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2pndr · 24 days ago

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Dinner In a Winter Wonderland

Hi! This is my first ever fic! Hope you enjoy it :D

Winter x Male Reader Fluff

8.4k words (sorry)

“We’ll only agree if you guys bring along a fourth friend, ok?”

Your three friends all recited to you the conditions a “goddess” had set for the Christmas quadruple date they were dragging you into.

You sat at your desk, speechless as you scanned the pleading faces of your roommates and long-time friends, stunned by their brazen appeals to you. It was probably that last sentence that bamboozled you the most though. Sure you were the closest to them, but it’s not like they were short on other friends. Why did you of all people have to come along?

“Why me of all people?” you asked again, this time out loud.

“Well, apparently, they have a you in their friend group too,” one of your friends began.

“A me?” you scoffed.

“Yeah, a you,” he continued. “Y’know, a stubborn, reclusive homebody who needs to be dragged out of their room every time their friends wanna hang out. All because they enjoy their ‘me time’ a little too much,” he joked, perhaps a bit too accurately imitating your increasingly weak excuses to leave the dorm.

“Ha, ha,” you mocked.

“No seriously! Apparently, her name’s Winter.”

“Winter?” You stifled a snicker. “Like the season? That’s her real name?”

“I mean, that’s what they told us,” your friend replied with a shrug. “Who cares? It’s kinda cute.”

You silently agreed, hiding a smirk as to not concede that your interest was piqued. “So let me get this straight,” you began, folding your arms in an attempt to appear unfazed. “The only reason I’m being dragged along is because you guys need someone to pair up with some girl who—what?—shares my hate for leaving the house? The hell’s in this for me?” You asked, feigning anger.

“Dude, it’ll be a perfect match!” another friend enticed, desperately trying to paint the situation in an appealing light. “You both don’t like leaving your rooms, you both hate meeting new people. It’s like the universe is aligning for you two to meet.”

Did he even realise the irony of that sentence?

“C'mon man, spending Christmas alone in your room three years in a row is some of the saddest shit I’ve ever seen,” The first one remarked.

Well he wasn’t wrong, but you couldn’t let him get any ground.

“Some people can’t help it,” You retorted.

“Well those people probably don’t have a chance to go out with the most attractive women they’ll ever see.”

You scowled, about to add fuel to the fire before your third friend cut you off.

“Think about it,” he chimed in, shifting the conversation away from an argument. “If she’s anything like you, she’ll probably want this whole thing over with as fast as you do.”

“Uh, huh…” You leaned back in your chair, tamed, but staring at the ceiling unconvinced. A girl like you? With how active the rest of the campus was, you found it hard to believe there was actually someone out there like you—someone cynical and uncomfortable with social gatherings of any form.

To be clear, you didn't have poor social skills—in fact, you’d argue you had a certain way with words—you just avoided any chance to use them. You had a knack in discerning the smallest shift in someone’s expression, adjusting your tone, words and body language to suit.

But that knack was often overshadowed by an unshakable urge to assess, to weigh every syllable and gesture, scanning for the faintest sign of discomfort or misinterpretation.

This hyperawareness turned into a road-block for any conversation. Instead of letting the flow guide you, you’d find yourself scrutinising every word you said the instant it left your mouth, wondering if it had landed right, if it was too much or too little, or if you’d somehow veered into awkward territory.

The more you tried to keep things smooth, the more you’d find yourself caught in these spirals of self-correction, only to create the very awkwardness you’d been trying to avoid.

So in the rare case you did end up at a social event, it was like you were playing a part. You stuck to the same few openings, the same practised routes for small talk.

There was nothing organic or genuine about the performance, nothing personal or meaningful. It was merely for show—a facade to keep up appearances.

It was all exhausting, and that’s what you had reiterated to your friends time and time again.

Regardless of your scepticism though, a strange part of you was actually a little curious. Not about the date itself—no, that was still a nightmare—but about this mysterious girl who apparently shared your introversions.

“Look, all we’re asking for is one night,” one pleaded, hands glued together as if he was in prayer. “One night! Just hang out with her for a couple hours while we chat up her friends, and you never have to do this again. You don’t have to see her again, talk to her again or anyone else if we ever ask. We’ll owe you big time.”

“Seriously dude, we’ll pitch in for the PS5 Pro or something!” another added in further pleas.

You let out a long sigh, staring this time down at your desk. Not in a million years would you even consider buying that atrocious excuse for a cash grab, but the sentiment of your friends owing you that colossal amount was admittedly tempting.

And then there was this Winter girl. The one who was apparently as much of a hermit as you were. You couldn’t ignore that meeting her was happening during Christmas, the very time of year you tried to avoid going out the most. But you almost couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person she was, if she really was as closeted as you or just some exaggerated myth your friends had conjured up to lure you out.

It shouldn’t have, but just the idea of her tickled something deep in your brain, flooding your subconscious with various guesses of her character.

Your mind conjured up an amalgamation of the most attractive women you had seen throughout your life; famous actresses and idols, the cute barista at the Starbucks down the road, that one girl at the airport who caught your eye but you never ended up talking to. Their looks, personalities, whatever alluring details you could recall were being melted together and forged into what became your own expectation of Winter.

You imagined a stunning slim and quiet girl—that much was obvious—with milky white hair, and fair complexion. They were traits all befitting of a girl named Winter. But in your mind something about her attitude, her facial expressions… they radiated… cold. It wasn’t unlike how you appeared to strangers—irrationally concealing your timid fear of interaction with a stiff stare and an emotionless face. As you considered how similar your vision of her felt to you, it was strangely… warm…familiar.

Within a matter of seconds, your apprehension had transformed to a hesitant desire to meet her. Or rather, this idea of her you had thrown together.

You sat in a long silence, wrestling with your inner turmoil—your shameful, uncharacteristic urge to discover the truth about this girl.

Seriously man? You asked yourself. There’s no way in hell she’d look anything like that if she was anything like you.

Your asshole of a subconscious did have a point.

But something about this tugged at you in a way you couldn’t help but notice. If this girl was like you, really like you, you had to know.

“Alright,” you eventually grumbled, putting a hand over your face to suppress the oncoming wave of regret already washing over you. “I’ll go.”

Your friends erupted in cheers, high-fiving and dapping each other up like they had just won themselves a date with the hottest girls on campu–Oh.

“YES! You’re the man!” one of them yelled, giving you a ‘pat’ on the back that almost knocked you out of your chair.

"You won’t regret this!" another exclaimed, jabbing a finger toward you, though deep down, you already kind of did.

“FUCK YEAH!” the last one punched to the sky. “We owe you man,” smiling from ear-to-ear as cheers followed him out of your room.

As you hastily cleared the other two from your territory, you felt the dread settling in. One night, that’s all it was, you told yourself. Just one night with this girl named Winter, who was probably as opposed to this as you were.

What’s the worst that could happen?

---

Before you knew it, you were in your friend’s car, dressed in your Sunday’s best—which, admittedly, was a hastily thrown together fusion of your roommates’ closets.

An attempt had been made to make your less than desirable features appear at least mildly presentable to the outside world. Your hair had been styled with some expensive hair product you could barely pronounce, your caveman scent obscured by some B-list celebrity’s cologne, and your abhorrent posture—honed through years of agonising abuse to your spine—was being corrected by your friends’ frustrated hands what felt like every other second.

They had half-jokingly, half-100%-seriously subjected you to some correction exercises over the past few days, few of which you actually bothered to attempt. Obviously, the few you had tried didn’t work, as your friend had stopped bothering to correct your posture himself, instead resorting to giving you a stinging slap every time your spine inevitably slumped from upright.

The swelling of the handprint forming on your back had charitably distracted you from the metric-shit ton of adrenaline coursing through your veins. It caused your breathing to grow heavy and your heart to feel it was going to burst from your chest. A couple sleepless nights and a few too many hours of staring blankly at your PC monitor had transformed your strange curiosity for meeting Winter back into dread.

You had moronically forgotten you actually had to talk to this girl for a couple hours instead of just confirming if she was similar to you.

Either you forced some kind of pitiful attempt at conversation with her—risking major embarrassment—or both of you succumb to sitting in introverted silence.

Even if you could properly wrestle with overusing your little talent, the fact was, any attraction whatsoever to a girl caused you to fold like a cheap suit, rendering your ability useless. If Winter was any bit as alluring as your mind made her out to be it would be more than disastrous for you. It would be like every ounce of composure was swapped out for a hyperactive inner monologue—one that left you stumbling over your own thoughts.

As your friend’s car hummed along the bustling holiday streets, your mind continued to spin in overdrive almost as quickly as the neon red and green of the city's Christmas ornaments seemed to appear and disappear all around you. You aimed to avoid risking any conversation that led to your humiliation, desperately mapping out the possible routes for conversation. This process was standard yet exhaustive at this point—your own RPG dialogue tree being mapped out in your mind.

"Hey, nice to meet you. How’s it going?"

"Fine."

[ No further options.]

You could already feel the weight of the dead-end conversation dragging the both of you down. That wasn’t going to work.

“So, what kind of stuff are you into?"

"Not much."

[FAILED: Charisma check too low.]

Your mind projected you staring at the ceiling, desperately trying to find something, anything, to say while Winter twiddled her thumbs, wondering out loud with a groan,“Why did I even bother to show up.”

What the fuck brain? That wasn’t helping your confidence at all.

“Hey, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

"Yeah, same."

[Neutral response. Proceed carefully.]

This felt promising. You could try pushing deeper, maybe ask a follow-up question, but you could already feel how you would screw it all up—one wrong word, one wrong look and kaput.

How about…

[Say Nothing.]

[No response.]

Yeah, that’s probably how it’s gonna go.

The car hit a bump in the road, and so did your only shred of confidence in this turning out well. You sighed quietly to yourself, senselessly running through these hypothetical scenarios in your head, frantically searching for the “good” dialogue option that simply wasn’t available to you.

There was no save scumming in real life, no charisma stat to help you bluff and charm your way through the whole thing, no getting lucky with your dice rolls either. It was just your limited social ability, a few thinly veiled attempts at small talk, and the faint hope that Winter might somehow be interested in having a conversation. It all reminded you why you avoided these kinds of situations in the first place…

You suck at them.

What felt like eternity with your own thoughts was soon interrupted as the car pulled up to the curb. You noticed the Christmas themed sign of the barbeque restaurant in the evening dusk. You stared at it, utterly terrified like it was signalling the entrance to some twisted version of hell—a place where your date, crowds of people, and the inevitable crushing embarrassment of being out of your element awaited—your hell.

Your friends on the other hand were already pumped, talking over each other in excitement as they recounted for the hundredth time just how hot these girls they scored were. Meanwhile, you were still stuck somewhere between resignation and panic.

Their voices blended into background noise—drowned out by the mental gymnastics you were performing to figure out how to survive the next couple of hours. You hadn’t even walked into the restaurant yet, and you already felt like retreating into the comforting embrace of your bed sheets back home.

As you resolved to follow your friends inside you were instantly hit by a wall of warmth, thick with the smell of grilling meat and the hum of lively holiday celebrants. The restaurant was buzzing—waiters weaving between tables, the sizzling of meats echoing from grills, and laughter rippling across the room like a contagious wave. Already the ‘energy’ in here was too much for you, prompting you to take a moment to adjust the atmosphere—all while your friends strode in like they owned the place.

This was the kind of scene you’d typically steer clear of: crowded, chaotic, and packed with people who simply enjoyed the presence of others. The holiday season did nothing to ease your anxiety, doing its part to gather everyone together by filling every seat in the restaurant. You shoved your hands into the unfamiliar pockets of the jacket your friends threw on you, hyper aware of how out of place you felt.

Your friends were greeted with warm smiles from the hostess—predictably, since they looked like they had just stepped off of the cover of Vogue magazine. Meanwhile, you were certain you looked like you’d rather be anywhere else.

She led you all to a private booth which was, thankfully, designated its own corner far away from the rest of the vivacious dynamic of the restaurant’s other patrons. Your relief didn’t last long though, as your heart leapt into your throat when you spotted four girls already sitting there. Three of them stood up to greet you, all endearing smiles, waves and the obligatory “Merry Christmas.”

Your fear was instantly frayed as the first girl began her introduction. Her name was Karina, and you were taken aback at how uncannily beautiful she was. In fact, it was almost unsettling how flawless she looked. It was like she had been engineered in a lab or generated by some AI algorithm designed to create the perfect face. Everything, right down to her sharp profile and unnaturally smooth skin was other-wordly perfect. A small mole dotted the edge of her chin, like an anchor tethering her otherwise impossibly symmetrical features to reality. She greeted your friends with a poised smile, but there was something behind her eyes—sharp, calculating, and trained on you—like she was sizing you up in particular.

But your mind paid that no attention as the next beauty introduced herself as Giselle—Her confident demeanour being the highlight for you. She moved with an ease that gave the impression she wasn’t fazed by anything or anyone. Her posture was relaxed, yet somehow commanding, exuding an energy that screamed, I’m hot, and I fuckin’ know it. The assertive eye contact she made with each of you as she introduced herself caused you to shrink back, almost out of respect for her authority. In contrast, her voice was steady and warm, but her eyes flicked back to Karina’s every so often, like the two of them were communicating without saying a word.

Then there was Ning Ning, who practically radiated excitement. Her lips curved into a smile that was bright and infectious, the kind that lit up her entire face. She greeted you all with a playful wave that bordered on adorable. Yet there was a switch in her—something in the way her expression shifted mid-conversation from lively and sweet to striking confidence—which could flip in an instant. She seemed to live in the moment though, completely detached from whatever silent exchange was happening between the other two. It was hard to tell if Ning Ning was more girl-next-door or temptress, and that fluidity made her all the more intriguing.

Your friends weren’t exaggerating. Each of them was stunning in their own way—like the kind of women you’d expect to see gracing the pages of a high-fashion magazine or as models strutting down a runway.

Yet, you couldn't help but notice the girl still seated at the inner end of the table, toying with her sleeves as the soft glow of her phone lit her face. Winter, you assumed. She didn’t stand, didn’t do so much as glance briefly at the four of you. But even in her stillness, she drew your attention. Her beauty wasn’t like Karina’s polished perfection or Giselle’s self-assured allure and most definitely not like Ning Ning’s bubbly charm. Winter appeared different—there was something so fundamentally distinct about her that interested you, piqued your curiosity when you thought you were infallible to such feelings. Regardless of what you heard about her, you found yourself encapsulated by nothing but her sheer beauty.

As your eyes lingered on her you didn’t feel like you were looking at a person. Instead it was as if you were gazing upon the natural landmark of a frost-covered landscape—pure, serene, and silently breathtaking. It was as if she belonged more to the cold elegance of nature than to the warmth of human company. Her presence was subtle yet striking, like the clear, crisp air on a winter morning. The restaurant's soft, amber light caught her pale complexion in a way that made her seem almost ethereal, yet still grounded. Her silvery-white hair cascaded around her face like freshly fallen snow, soft and shimmering, as if her namesake itself had carefully crafted each strand to highlight her delicate features. Somehow, Winter lived up to that paradoxically beautiful expectation you had envisioned, but seeing her in person gave the impression she transcended it.

You stumbled through your own introduction to the rest of the girls, utterly captivated by what most people would consider a bad display of manners. Anybody in your shoes would have had their eyes glued to the trio of goddesses standing before you, but you could barely spare them a second—alright, a third glance.

Predictably, the small talk that followed didn’t include you. Your friends however—more eager than you’ve ever seen them—quickly launched into banter with Karina, Giselle, and Ning Ning. Normally you would be in awe of how easy they made the whole thing look, but you could only half-listen, your thoughts and eyes constantly drifting toward Winter, who remained seated quietly at the end of the booth.

Eventually, Karina offered you all to sit, prompting one of your friends to shove you along to your side of the table. The little collision knocked you out of the fugue-like state you were in, drawing a quiet cry that caused laughter to erupt around you. Quickly realising that you’d be facing Winter, you hesitantly sat down, your eyes flicking back to her every now and then.

When she finally glanced your way, there was a brief pause, her cool eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, you were caught, held in the silence between you. Her gaze was steady, unwavering, but a hint of vulnerability showed itself as she studied you. Before you knew it, you were staring—completely absorbed by the depth in her eyes. They weren’t just cold or distant as you first thought—they were calm, almost reflective, like a still lake that hid something beneath its surface. The more you looked, the harder it became to pull yourself away.

Seconds passed—maybe more—and you didn’t even realise how long you’d been holding her gaze until your heart gave a sudden jolt, reminding you that you were looking at a person and not nature’s pièce de résistance. Embarrassment shot through you as you quickly broke eye contact, feeling a heat crawl up your neck.

“Winter, right?” Your voice came out much too casual, completely betraying the fact that you were just caught staring at her like an absolute buffoon. How did you already manage to mess this up?

Winter tilted her head ever so slightly, a small flicker of amusement ghosting over her lips before she nodded. She blinked more than once, her lashes fluttering to mask brief hesitation. Her gaze softened just slightly. “Yeah,” she replied simply. Her voice was soft, but clear. There was no hint of awkwardness or hesitation, but the slight shift in her posture, the way her fingers brushed the sleeve of her shirt said otherwise.

You nodded, you’d only asked one question and you already felt like your dialogue options were exhausted. But on the bright side, the mere fact she replied meant things were already going better than they did in your head.

The silence between you both stretched for a beat, then another. Neither of you spoke, but remarkably it felt like the words were there, waiting to be said. Winter’s fingers continued nervously with her sleeve, brushing the fabric in small, rhythmic strokes, while you found yourself looking at empty plates, the table—anything but her. Both of you seemed unsure of what to say next, letting you confidently conclude that she was indeed as nervous as you. You noticed her lips parting as if to speak, only to close again after a moment of hesitation.

A few more seconds passed before you both spoke at once.

“So—”

“Did you—”

You stopped mid-sentence, catching her eye before you let out a quiet, awkward chuckle. “Uh, sorry. You go first.”

Winter looked down briefly, as if gathering herself. When she lifted her gaze again, there was a softness in her eyes, and a hint of vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. Her thumb brushed the edge of the table, tracing it gently as she glanced back at you. “They had to bribe you too?” She asked timidly, lightly gesturing to your friends who were engrossed with hers.

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, you could say that. It’s a whole mess, isn’t it?”

Winter nodded, her own smile flickering into existence, delicate but brief. Her voice softened as she admitted, ”These three promised me free food for a week just to get me to show up.” Winter scrunched her face, slanting her eyebrows in an attempt to scowl at them, but failed miserably, producing an adorable pout that was more endearing than anything else.

Your heart may as well have melted right there.

You laughed softly, buying yourself time to regain your composure. From afar, she was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, but up close? When that cold, hard exterior began to fade, she doubled as the cutest too.

Your little chuckle successfully let you continue the eerily natural flow the two of you had going. “Mine offered to chip in for a game console.”

“So that’s what got you, huh?” Her eyes brightened with amusement, and for the first time, you saw her smile linger just a little longer. It wasn’t just her smile though. A slight accent softened the edges of her naturally sweet tone. Everything she said felt so easy on the ears, so digestible, and you—despite your scepticism and bitterness towards being here—found yourself hungry for more. Your friends would have called you a hypocrite, but in your defence, they both contributed to this perfect image that sat opposite you. You couldn't help but think it was the cutest sight you’d ever seen.

Perhaps that’s what gave you the strength to say this next part.

“Well not exactly…” You trailed off, breaking eye contact as your fingers fidgeted nervously under the table.

Winter tilted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow in anticipation like a puppy awaiting a command. God, how was everything she did so adorable?

You leaned in, still avoiding her gaze and turned your head slightly toward the wall, hoping the others wouldn’t overhear what you were about to say.

“I was uh…” You began, almost a whisper as the words struggled to leave your suddenly dry mouth.

This time Winter leaned in, meeting you at a distance a little too close for comfort.

“I was curious about you…”

Your words were like bullets, creating an embarrassing recoil that sent you hurtling back into the headrest, your gaze pointing straight down as a crimson flush seized the skin of your cheeks.

Your friends would have scoffed at how trivial that whole exchange seemed, all the while you felt like a timid middle schooler confessing to his crush. You managed to baffle yourself with your boldness, not daring to look up and see Winter’s reaction.

To your further surprise, your little self-conscious introspection was interrupted by a giggle. Not just any giggle. Winter’s giggle.

You looked up to meet her face—equally as rosy as yours. But in place of your distraught expression was Winter, giggling like a child on a sugar-high. Her laughter was light and melodic, bubbling up like it couldn’t be contained. She leant back covering her open mouth with her hand. Her whole face had lit up, it was the kind of laugh that crinkled her eyes and shook her shoulders ever so slightly. It wasn’t just the sound, though—it was the way she smiled from ear to ear, so unguarded and genuine, a welcome contrast to the shy and distant she showed otherwise.

You lied earlier. This was the cutest thing you’d ever seen.

At first, you were confused by her sudden outburst, but as the infectious warmth of her laughter sunk in, a mutual smile spread across your face. The tension you’d been holding onto for several days seemed to melt away with each lingering note of her laugh. You honestly had no idea what she found so funny, but in the moment, you were just happy to go along with it, confident that you were doing at least something right.

Your friends, noticing her giggling, shared amused glances but didn’t interrupt. From the way they were staring, they were just as surprised as you were at how well this was going. They all held an expression that confessed we didn’t know you had it in you.

Ning Ning too giggled under her breath, playfully nudging Giselle. “Look at that—actual progress,” she muttered teasingly, her tone dripping with mock disbelief.

Karina though, was different. She subtly monitored the interaction, her sharp gaze softened now, intrigued by how Winter was opening up. It felt like she approved though, commending you in getting Winter out of her shell. She stayed silent though, still content to just observe.

Winter’s adorable outburst slowly ebbed, her shoulders still shaking slightly as she tried to catch her breath. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, an adorable mix of bashfulness and amusement colouring her features.

“So…” she began meekly, eyes flickering down before meeting yours again. “Do I live up to your expectations?” Her tone was soft, tentative, as if she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer.

You were caught off guard by Winter’s own intrepid addition to your conversation, feeling your face heat up as you struggled to find the right words.

I—well…” You exhaled, trying to pull together the honesty that was suddenly a challenge to articulate in her presence. “You’re not what I expected,” you admitted, a gentle smile finding its way onto your face. “I don’t think I could’ve pictured someone quite like you, even if I’d tried.”

The sudden spark of vulnerability in Winter’s expression tugged at something in you. You realised your answer might’ve sounded too cryptic, maybe even evasive. The faint quiver of her brow and roll of her Adam's apple told you she wasn’t sure how to take that.

You cleared your throat, glancing up at her cautiously as you explained, “I mean that in a good way!” Winter had a beauty that seemed too obvious, too stunning to need validation, yet you couldn’t help but want to say it aloud. “I thought you’d be stunning and well…you are.” Winter turned away sharply, hiding her flushing face with a hand. “I just thought that you’d be a lot more.. distant. But meeting you here, seeing you laugh and smile…” you were thinking of an eloquent way to put this, but you found yourself beholden to the truth right now.

Winter was having this… effect on you. You weren’t one to ‘open up’ or ‘talk about their feelings’ and yet you felt compelled to here. “Seeing you laugh and smile… I can’t help but think it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” You had no idea where this newfound confidence was coming from, but you had a sneaking suspicion it was spurred on from what you’d just described.

Winter’s cheeks deepened from a soft pink to a vibrant flush, and she let out a shaky breath. Her fingers lingered over her features, like she was trying to shield herself from the intensity of the moment. Her eyes darted back to you and the delicate gleam in her gaze made your heart skip.

“Really?” she murmured, her voice barely audible, as though she feared saying anything louder might shatter the fragile honesty between you. She dropped her hand from her coloured cheeks, her eyes tracing your face for confirmation. “You really think that?”

You nodded, the sincerity in your gaze unwavering. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” You chuckled softly, hoping to lighten the air.

Winter’s shoulders began to relax, she herself not realising that they were glued to her neck. Her face remained flushed, but the tightness in her posture had vanished, leaving her more relaxed and open in how she sat.

“Thank you…” she let out. Her voice remained soft, but they certainly carried more weight.

“I’ll admit I’m surprised too…” She hesitated, glancing away, lips curving into a soft smile. “I thought you’d be just like everyone else…” You listened attentively, holding her gaze while she spoke tenderly, honestly.

“So I didn’t expect you to be…well, this easy to talk to,” she admitted, rubbing up her arm. “You don’t feel like everyone else, all practised lines and smooth talking,” she let out a faint chuckle. “ You make mistakes, you slip up. You’re like me. And um… cute too.” It was your turn to look away, your own cheeks starting to heat up. “So there’s something really nice about that...”

You pinched yourself under the table. This was going too well for you. This had to be a dream.

“I’m glad you think that,” you told her with a smile. Your voice was lower and steadier than you’d expected, though a trace of disbelief lingered beneath your words. Because, truthfully, you could never have imagined this going so well—not in a million lifetimes.

To your absolute delight, Winter sent you another wide smile. You didn’t think it could get much wider, but somehow she pulled it off.

You hadn’t realised it till she brought it up, but with Winter, you didn’t need to use those memorised openers or routes. She enticed you in such a way that just encouraged you to just… be you. Everywhere else you went you always felt an expectation to act like everyone else, to sound like them. But in the short time you’ve been around Winter, you hadn’t felt that at all. Was it because you two were similar?

“So,” You began, searching for your answer. “I take it you’re not a big fan of all this?” You gestured to the six other residents of the table, and by extension the rest of the restaurant.

Winter raised an eyebrow, leaning back into her chair. She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs under the table, almost like she was trying to ground herself. “More or less. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate people... I just like my space, y’know? Too much noise, too many people... it feels like I’m in the wrong place.” She paused, glancing briefly at the rest of the table. “But you get it, right?”

“More than I care to admit,” you replied with a sigh, feeling some strange sense of relief wash over you. “It’s exhausting. I never know what to say, or how to keep up.”

Winter’s lips curved upward again, knowingly. She seemed to relax even more, sinking into the conversation as much as she did her seat. "Exactly. It always feels like everyone has these… scripts. Like they know exactly what to say and when to say it." She gestured lightly toward your friends, still engrossed in their own lively conversations. "But it’s… difficult. It’s all tiring,” She confessed with a little pout. “It doesn't feel natural or genuine to me, it feels like I'm… like I'm…”

“Like you’re playing a character,” you finished, taking the words right out of her mouth.

Her eyes widened a fraction, a glimmer of recognition passing through them. “Exactly!” she rejoiced. A quiet laugh escaped her, one that sounded relieved. “All our friends can happily be themselves, but we’re stuck acting like someone else.”

As Winter continued, you noticed a subtle shift in the way she spoke. It wasn’t just about her anymore—she was talking about the both of you. There was something comforting about the fact that she felt like you were in this together, like she saw a bit of herself in you. You weren’t just sharing a conversation anymore—it was an understanding.

You nodded, staring into her opulent orbs as if she were a reflection of yourself.

But before either of you could say more, Karina’s voice cut through the air, pulling you both back into reality.

“Hey, are you two lovebirds ready to order?” she teased.

You blinked and glanced around, realising that everyone else had been staring at you—impatient, but knowing smiles all around. Even the waiter at the head of your table, pen poised and all, gave you a subtle, approving nod.

“Oh, uh…” You stammered, feeling a rush of heat crawl up your neck. You turned to glance at Winter, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you. Her eyes, wide and glimmering, were so close that you could see the subtle flecks of silver and blue swirling within them. The space between you was almost nonexistent; you were close enough that you could feel the warmth of her breath, your noses almost grazing. Wait, what? The realisation hit you both at once, and in an instant, you jolted back into your seat, wide-eyed and startled, your heart pounding from the unexpected proximity.

Winter did the same, recoiling sharply and causing a small tremble in the table. Her face flushed a deep, rosy pink, the sudden burst of colour creeping from her cheeks down to her neck.

“I’ll have the—”

“Could I have—”

You both started at once, then stopped, exchanging an awkward, embarrassed laugh. You gave a little nod, gesturing for her to go first.

“ I’ll have the…”

Winter’s voice trailed off as she scanned the menu in a hurry, cheeks still rosy. She managed to mumble her order, then you fumbled your way through yours right after, both of you clearly rattled but trying to play it cool.

As the waiter left the table, a heavy silence settled over you and Winter. The energy from before—where genuine laughter and soft words had filled the space between you two—seemed to have dissipated. Now, you found yourself unable to speak, the memory of that fleeting, close encounter hanging thickly in the air, making it difficult to breathe. It rendered thinking of something to say practically impossible.

You glanced at Winter, only to find her just as quiet. She was staring at the menu again, though you knew she wasn’t really reading it. Her fingers brushed along the page absentmindedly, putting in no effort whatsoever to make her rapid flicking believable. Every so often, her eyes would dart toward you, only to quickly return to the menu the second she thought you might notice.

Despite the tension, a sense of relief came over you. The silence gave you an opportunity to collect yourself, to push back the storm of emotions swirling around inside you. You sank a little further into your chair, quietly thankful for the momentary ceasefire.

Your mind wandered to all those couples who roamed the city streets—it was the bitter truth that you wouldn’t fit in as one of them. The way you’d always seen yourself didn’t align with how those people acted: smiling and talking for what felt like forever. For years on end you considered yourself emotionally unavailable, selfish with any time you had. Yet, here you were, sitting across from Winter, someone who was...different. Someone who made you feel like, maybe—just maybe—you were capable of being one of those couples.

You shook your head slightly, dismissing the thought as quickly as it came. No, that kind of thing didn’t happen to people like you. You were reading too much into it, weren’t you? It had to be just the heat of the moment, the proximity playing tricks on your mind. The sincerity in her gaze, the warmth of her breath—it was just...well, it was nothing, really.

But then why was your heart still racing?

Winter shifted slightly in her seat, her eyes still trained on the menu. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but stopped herself, the words catching before they had a chance to escape. You could almost feel her nerves mirrored in your own chest.

You too thought about saying something—anything—to break the silence, but every possible word felt clumsy in your mind. You were far too embarrassed to speak up, but at the same time, you wanted to recover the soft energy that radiated between the two of you—the thrill of a conversation where you felt at ease, where you could be you.

"Sorry, about… uh, that," you forced out, sending her a sheepish smile. “I didn’t mean to make things weird.” There was no reason for you to take responsibility, but you assumed it would ease her if she was absolved of fault. After all, it would have eased you.

Winter shook her head quickly, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “Trust me, if anyone made things weird, it was me.” You couldn't help but laugh—she was trying to do the exact same thing.

“Don’t worry about it, Winter,” you assured, her name slipping out instinctively.

There was a shift in her posture as her name escaped your lips, subtle but noticeable. She uncrossed her legs under the table and leaned forward ever so slightly, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her sleeve again. She seemed on the verge of saying something important. You could sense it in the way she glanced at you—anxious eyes, cheeks flushing scarlet.

Her lips pressed together for a moment, then softened as if she’d finally made up her mind. Her eyes met yours, letting you peer into that reflective lake once again. But this time, you could almost make out what was below— she was letting down a wall, one you’d wager few have ever seen behind.

She took a breath, her chest rising and falling with a quiet resolve, and then, in almost a whisper she spoke.

“Please. Call me Minjeong.”

The simplicity of the words didn’t match the weight they carried. There was something so incredibly personal in her request, something that felt like a secret being shared between just the two of you. Her gaze stayed locked on yours, as if waiting to see how you’d react, her vulnerability laid bare.

“M-Minjeong,” you stuttered delicately, the name feeling both foreign and intimate on your tongue, like you were stepping into a space no one else had been invited to.

Minjeong’s expression softened even more, a glimmer of relief flashing across her eyes. She let out a breath, one she seemed to have been holding in anticipation of your response. A curve played across her lips. It was pure, unguarded. You almost could see the warmth radiating off of her, like this simple act of you saying her name had drawn you two closer.

“I— I like the way you say it,” she confessed quietly. Her voice was shy, as if she wasn’t used to hearing her own name spoken aloud.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, unsure of how to respond but feeling the gravity of the moment pull you deeper into her orbit. The vulnerability in her tone, the way her eyes softened when she looked at you, made everything feel so surreal. You had no idea what to say next, your mind scrambling for the right words, but none seemed enough.

Multiple pairs of eyes fell on you from around the table, but neither you nor Minjeong were in the right state to acknowledge it. As far as you were both concerned, you two were the only people on Earth right now.

Before you could manage a reply, Minjeong spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “Most people just call me Winter. It’s easier for me… less personal.” She glanced down at the table, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the edge of her sleeve. “But I dunno…” She trailed off. “Minjeong feels right with you.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and meaningful, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were seeing something fragile. It was like she was giving you a piece of herself, trusting you to hold it gently.

“Minjeong,” you repeated, this time more certain. “It’s a beautiful name.”

She met your gaze again, her eyes shining with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “Thanks,” she murmured, a shy smile tugging at her lips, but this time, there was no hesitation in the way she looked at you. No walls, no pretence. Just Minjeong, in all her quiet, ethereal beauty.

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest, the kind you hadn’t experienced in years. It was like being a teen again, that rush of excitement and nervous energy coursing through you—the way it used to when you’d catch your crush’s eye across the room and feel your heart race. But this was different—it was deeper. As you sat there, looking at Minjeong, you realised it wasn’t just her beauty or the way she had let you in. It was the feeling she stirred in you, something you thought you’d long forgotten. She wasn’t just someone who caught your eye—she made you feel alive again. Like you were rediscovering that fluttery, intoxicating rush from your youth, but unlike then it wasn’t fleeting. There was a quality to it that you just couldn’t articulate—your years of social isolation, your unending cynicism towards basic human emotion left you that way.

But you tried, tried to put a label on this unfamiliar feeling. You searched your mind for a word, a description, anything that could encompass what was building in your chest, but nothing came close. It was a bewildering sensation that refused to fit into the neat definitions you knew.

The tension in your mind dissipated the moment the waiter brought the food, and you watched as everyone’s attention turned to their meals. The table filled with idle chatter and silverware scraping against plates, grounding you back to the present. You took a steadying breath, grateful for the pause and the warmth of the meal as it cut through the delicate web that had woven itself between you and Minjeong.

Still, you couldn’t help but notice her in the little pauses and movements—the way her eyes sparkled with each glance around the table, her small, quiet smile at each bite. Even now, Minjeong’s presence felt magnetic, she occupied her space without demanding it, a rare grace that felt refreshing. Each time she looked up, she met your eyes with a soft, almost bashful smile that sent an echo of warmth through you. It made you want to reach out, to learn more, to let her know how much she’d already begun to matter to you.

The conversation around the table grew louder, but your own exchange with Minjeong stayed quiet and gentle. You spoke in low tones, sharing snippets about each other’s lives. Every glance, every subtle word between you seemed to deepen the quiet understanding you shared. Gone was your lacking composure, the insatiable need to assess and please. Your exchange with Minjeong felt like a safe space, a judgement-free zone to be yourself in public. You’d explain to her all your nerdy hobbies, and she would listen with genuine attentiveness, her eyes adorably lighting up when you’d find something else in common. In return, you found yourself hanging onto every word she offered back, falling deeper and deeper into the conversation as she opened herself up to you

And when there were lulls—as there inevitably were between introverts such as the two of you—you both found comfort even in the silence. It was strange, feeling so drawn to someone you had known for only a few hours. The part of you that usually resisted connections seemed to fall silent in her presence. And as she leaned in closer to share an amused thought, her fingers playing absently at the edge of her napkin, you felt something within you shift.

What was this feeling, exactly? You had tried to put it into words, only to come up empty. You were someone who could gauge how a person was feeling from body language alone, like you could measure and judge everything they felt. But when it came to yourself—your feelings, your emotions—you came up short.

But as the evening wore on and the rest of the table grew quieter, you found yourself looking at Minjeong with a soft certainty. From the way Minjeong looked at you, you got the impression she was struggling with the same dilemma. But you didn’t need to name this undefined feeling that stirred in you. Every shared glance, every smile that lingered a beat too long—these were all the words you needed. There was an understanding—unspoken yet undeniable—that whatever this was, it was real. And in that moment, with the quiet warmth shared between you two, it was enough.

---

You emerged from the restaurant, taking in the brisk air of the Christmas evening. Typically, retreating back into the bustling street was your first step in your retreat to the solitary comfort of your dorm room. It let you breathe a sigh of relief for escaping whatever social event you had been forced into.

But tonight? Tonight your steps were unhurried, in fact you felt the urge to linger. Tonight, Minjeong was by your side, her soft smile mirroring your own. The breath you let go this time was instead a remorseful one, a signal that your time together was almost over. Of course as much as she looked the part, the girl before you wasn’t some unreachable, otherworldly angel—she was real, and very much contactable.

You both watched from afar as your friends exchanged phone numbers with Karina, Giselle and Ning Ning. On any other day, you would have looked on in unspoken envy,but alas, tonight was different. You stared at the new contact sitting in your phone—a beautiful name befitting of an equally beautiful woman, punctuated by two snowflakes either side of it.

“Minjeong,” it read. Simple, familiar now, but it held a weight you’d never thought a name could carry.

You grinned, feeling a warmth unlike any the night’s chill could steal away. The white-haired girl handed your phone back to you, sending a sincere smirk your way.

“Make sure to call me, okay?”

Her tone was light and gentle, but her eyes were serious, like this meant more to her than anything else.

“Of course,” you assured. There was nothing in this world that could make you shatter the joy reflected in that smile.

Without warning, she stepped forward, instantly closing the distance between you. Her arms wrapped around you—warm, gentle and tentative. For a moment, you were too stunned to react, but the heat of her body—which was now flush to yours—quelled any concern. Instinctively, your arms folded around her, drawing her closer, absorbing her presence. The soft scent of her hair drifted up to you, and you felt her heartbeat against your own.

“Thank you for tonight.” She whispered, her soft voice muffled by your chest.

You didn’t know how long you two were standing there, pressed together as one, but in the moment it didn’t matter. When she finally pulled away, you saw her face, beaming like the sun shines.

“Have a wonderful night,” she said, her cheeks flushed, mirroring the festive glow of the streets around you.

“It already has been,” you replied, your heart full as you returned a gentle, loving smile.

Love. You chuckled.

Maybe that’s what this was.

---

If you got here thank you much for reading my first ever fic! I know there's a lot of filler here which could very easily be removed, but I really just wanted to keep everything I'd written. In the future, I'll make sure everything's more streamlined.

But apart from that I'd love for some constructive criticism. Thanks again!

#winter fluff #aespa fluff #minjeong fluff #minjeong x reader #winter x male reader #winter x reader #winter x you #winter #aespa winter #kim minjeong

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trippinsorrows · 6 months ago

Text

with me + part ten

authors note: none

song inspo: “with me” by destiny’s child

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive themes, angst

words: 5.8k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

You’ve never been a person who was big on holidays.

Never saw the massive appeal. Easter was annoying cause everyone and they mama showed up to church just to show off their kids silk press and frilly dresses. Halloween was too dark. Valentine’s Day was always a toss up, depending on where you and Amir were at the moment. And 4th of July….fuck America.

But Christmas…..in recent years, it’s starting to become a holiday you really enjoy. You owe a lot of that to Callie and her pure joy and excitement at the "most wonderful time of the year," for gifts, yes, but she loved celebrating “baby Jesus” birthday just as much.

And you couldn't deny that your town was most beautiful this time of year. Stunningly decorated, there wasn’t a non-resident building in town that wasn’t dressed down in HGTV worthy Christmas decor. Walking through town really felt like walking on the set of a Hallmark Christmas movie.

And the activities were endless, especially for kids.

Hence your current whereabouts, sitting on a bench with your mom as Callie partakes with a group of other kids in a workshop with some of ‘Santa’s elves’. Your eyes land on her more often than not, knowing you live in a safe area but never wanting to take any chances. You also notice how talkative she is at the table she’s seated at with another little girl. You smile. Seeing her interact with other kids always makes you happy. Once she gets past her initial shyness, you definitely see sprinkles of your extroverted personality in her.

Checking your phone from a text from Joe, you can’t avoid the pout when met with empty notifications.

Your mom, forever perceptive, notices this. “When does he come in?”

“Tomorrow,” you answer, unable to contain the smile on your face. You’re not sure who’s more excited about Joe’s return: you or Callie. Probably her, but you’re not that far behind.

And not even just for sexual reasons. Yes, that’s definitely up there, but also expected. Because one thing about sex with Joe: it’s addictive.

Having him like that for the first time in years awakened things in you that you forgot existed. No one could make you come like he could, and he knew it, hence his smug disposition during sex. One thing you were starting to realize was that Joe fucked like Roman, but he made love like Joe, and it was a deadly combination.

You woke up alone the morning after the date, but you knew that was the case because this man literally flew out for one night just to take you out. And dick you down.

But Joe being Joe, left you a note, like something out of one of those corny but sweet, romantic indie movies. It was thoughtful, but he’s always been thoughtful.

That shouldn’t have surprised you.

Just like you shouldn’t have been surprised to be woken up by Callie jumping on your bed, happy to see you and wanting to catch you up on her fun sleepover with Alexis. Alexis, who made sure that the first thing that she checked was the nightstand where that Plan B absolutely was nowhere to be found.

Used and discarded in your waste bin. That’s where it was.

The smirk she sent your way, you just knew she was gonna have a million and one questions. And clearly waiting for Callie to not be present to have that conversation was too much waiting, hence your phone buzzing with texts while you watched Wish with Callie.

Alexis: You dirty whore! I wanna know everything.

You: What’s there to tell? You don’t see the box anymore, do you?

Alexis: Bitch, you know what I mean. It was good, wasn’t it?

You: Girl…..good ain’t the word for it. 😩 I’m so tired and sore right now. He wore my ass out. Had me up all night.

You: I stopped counting after 4.

Alexis: 😖 You have no idea how much I love this for you.

Alexis: I’m also gonna take a wild guess that since you took the plan b, ya’ll didn’t use protection? He came in you, didn’t he? 👀

You: Every.single.time.

Alexis: Oh, he down baddddd.

Alexis: Shit, do I need to get you some pregnancy tests?

You: NO. It was just last night…..I may have to get on BC because that can’t be a regular thing.

Alexis: Well….don’t you want more kids anyway?

You: We’re not even dating, and you want me to get knocked up by this man?

Alexis: Bitch, you already have one child. Give her a sibling.

Alexis: And what do you mean you’re not dating? That is your man. Just own it.

It was a fun exchange, as are most things with Alexis, and it brought up a valid point. Joe was gonna have to either wrap it up or you were going to need to get back on the pill.

And you knew better than to tell her that this man literally asked you if you were on the pill and said good when you told him you weren’t. You haven’t given yourself time to process that….later date and time.

But Joe’s definitely been the subject of several dreams that left you waking up feeling aroused. Hence you counting down the days until his return, yes for Callie, but also because you desperately need your insides rearranged in a way only he can fulfill.

And you also just miss him.

Plain and simple.

“I take it things are going well between ya’ll.” Your mom gives you that all-knowing look that all moms possess. You roll your eyes, and she playfully nudges your shoulder. “I’m happy for you, sweetie. You deserve to be happy. You and Callie.”

“We’re just….I don’t know what we’re doing exactly, but….it is going well.” It seems a bit silly to not acknowledge that you and Joe are dating again, but until he confirms as such, you lean on the side of caution. Granted, you know he’s not fucking anyone else, and you damn sure aren’t either. You speak to each other as often as you can, and there’s seldom a conversation that occurs without one or both of you hinting at the mindblowing sex you’ll have once he returns.

Nope….not dating at all.

“Well, he’s divorced now, isn’t he?” You’d eventually caught your mom up on that important update, knowing that she would never really approve if his wife was still in the picture. She wouldn’t outright say anything, but her demeanor would be telling enough.

“Yes, but—”

“And he’s obviously very interested in being with you. I don’t need to ask if you’re interested in being with him, and Callie would do well in a healthy two-parent household.”

At that, you stop walking, arm in front of your mom. “Mama….you did amazing raising me all on your own. I owe you so much that it’d be impossible for me to ever repay you.” And it’s the truth. Definitely age and becoming a single mother yourself showed you just how much your mom sacrificed to keep a roof over your head and food in your belly. Your mom truly is your hero.

She smiles warmly, placing her gloved hand over yours. “I appreciate that, baby. But, if you don’t have to struggle, why should you? Joseph seems keen on being in Callie’s life and yours as well. What’s holding you back?”

You chuckle at her final question. “That’s more or less the same thing Alexis said.” Only gone for a couple days, you're starting to miss her too. She's been a great source of support the past couple weeks.

“I always did like that girl. A bit on the wild side, but I like her.” Oh, if your mom knew the extent of what that wildness looked like. Not just for Alexis but yourself. You’re certain your mom would have a heart attack if she knew you were a regular at the strip club in college. So much so that the owner knew you by name and often propositioned you for a job.

You’d be lying if you tried to say you didn’t consider it from time to time.

“Maybe it’s how we got together,” you guess aloud, sitting back against the bench. “I think I still have some guilt about doing that to his wife.”

It’s a take you’ve found yourself thinking about more and more over the past couple weeks. She may be out of the picture now, but she wasn’t when you first started messing with Joe. She was still his wife the first time you let him take you to bed, and that’s left a stain on your conscience you’re not entirely sure how to rid yourself of.

“I understand that entirely.” Hearing the change in your mom’s tone has you wondering if it’s truly wise to have this conversation with her. Is it still a sensitive subject? “But it seems they divorced before you even came back in the picture. Do you know why they finally went their separate ways?”

Shaking your head, you inform, “no, and a part of me wants to ask, but when he told me about it, I could see it was difficult for him. He had this….sadness in his eyes. And I don’t think it was because of the divorce itself but….something else.”

A part of you wants to ask him again, feels like it’s information you should know. But, another part of you doesn’t want to pry too much. If it’s a sensitive subject, you don’t want to reopen any open wounds.

“Well, if this continues to progress, it may be a discussion that needs to happen. Even if it just gives you a peace of mind.” You know she’s right. It’s just not something you’re ecstatic about having to do. “And you probably should also start thinking about what changes you may have to make for this to continue to work.”

Confused, you ask, “what do you mean?”

“He can’t keep flying in and out sporadically just to see his child. Or you. That’s not fair to any of ya’ll and not sustainable. You’re gonna have to relocate to wherever he lives.”

That….that is not something you’ve thought about until this very moment. You know Joe bends over backwards to make these visits work, but it hadn't occurred to you how long this dynamic could continue.

Your mom must see the wheels in your head turning, adding, “and think about Callie, once she finds out that’s her daddy, she’s gonna wanna be around him as much as possible. It could be easier if you’re a bit closer.”

You don’t know how true or untrue your mom’s take is, but it’s also another conversation that will have to happen between you and Joe. He’s always on the road in general. Will moving really do anything to help with his visits? Relocating is something you’ve never ever thought about. This is your home. You grew up here. Callie was growing up here. You always saw her growing up here.

But, that was also a version where Joe wasn’t in her life. Now he is. So, of course, some things would change.

You just didn’t imagine that is what would change.

Even if your mom’s guidance now has you wondering what it would be like to have a house together, the three of you, Callie, with an actual backyard she can run around in. Not just limited to the space of your apartment.

“I’m gonna go say hi to Gloria.” She taps your leg, gesturing to her friend’s store. “I’ll be right back.”

Nodding, you sit there, focusing on Callie instead of the nuggets of wisdom your mom just dropped on you.

“Long time no see, stranger.”

And just like that, you’re regretting ever agreeing to leave your place. You should have just done something at the apartment with Callie. Invited your mom over. Baked some cookies and shit.

Crossing your arms, you refuse to look his way. “Amir, it’s the happiest time of the year. Please leave me alone, and let me stay in my happy place.”

“You’re still upset with me?” He seems genuinely surprised at this, like you cussing him out in front of your daughter’s preschool wasn’t a good indicator of how upset you were. “Gotta let that shit go.”

“I don’t have to do anything but live, be black, and love my child.” Scooting to your edge of the bench, you tell him again. “Now go away.”

“We clearly need to talk this out—”

“No, we don’t need to do anything because there is no we.” You catch Callie’s eyes and remind yourself that you don’t need a part two of the last time. “I told you before. That’s done and over with. In all areas. You’ll never see my name pop up on your phone ever again.”

And that’s a promise.

“You’re so fuckin’ dramatic.” He’s growing annoyed. If only you cared. “Stop playing. What you doing tomorrow?”

“Sitting on my man’s face.”

Your answer seems to take him back. “He still around?” You don’t say anything. “You’re not stupid enough to be fucking him again, are you?”

“Amir, the only reason I was ever fucking you was because he wasn’t around, but he’s here now, and he’s not going anywhere. And without hurting your feelings before Christmas, I can promise you, dick is not something I will ever want or need from anyone else ever again.”

He scoffs, just looking at you with disgust. “Mariah was right. That nigga really does have you acting different.”

At that, your head snaps in his direction. “What did you just say?” Instantly, you see it. The regret in his face in realizing he’s fucked up. “Why were you talking to Mariah?” Your best friend couldn’t take your calls or texts, but she had time to fill your ex in on your private life? “When?”

He looks off, trying to hide the guilty expression you’ve already clocked. “We ran into each other at the store the other day.”

Lie.

Scoffing, you lean back against the bench. And you laugh. All you can do is laugh because never in a million years would you have put these pieces together, but it makes so much sense.

“Yeah, you can get the fuck away from me. Now.” Seeing him about to open his mouth again, you decide to separate yourself. “Fine. I’ll leave.”

And you do just that, moving to another available bench where you can still keep a close eye on Callie. It seems they’re nearing the end of the activity. One glance over to your previous seat, you see that Amir is gone.

Good.

Pulling out your phone, you send a simple text.

You: If you were too busy riding Amir’s average dick to message me back, you could have just said so.

There’s barely any time for you to slide your phone back into your purse when it beeps.

Mariah: ??????

It actually takes a lot in you not to call and cuss her out right then and there. You’ve been trying to get in contact with her for weeks and the minute you send her that, she remembers how to reply?

“Mommy!”

You’re grateful for Callie’s distraction. Smile on your face, you see she’s approached you with not only the little girl at her table but a man also wearing a friendly expression.

“This is my new friend! Her name is Taylor!” Taylor appears to be the same or around the same age as Callie, box braids styled into two space buns, and she and Callie share giggles like they’ve been friends for years. In a weird sort of way, she reminds you a lot of Callie.

“It seems the girls have connected,” the man speaks with a chuckle. He offers his hand. “I’m Darius. Taylor’s dad.”

Your phone goes off and you quickly glance, hoping it’s Joe.

Mariah: Can we talk?

Instantly, you reorient yourself to the conversation at hand.

“It appears they have,” you agree, offering your name and asking, “are you from around here?”

“Naw. Just visiting some family. Me and my wife.” He looks around. “She should be somewhere around here. Her parents only live about an hour out, so they came to meet us.”

“Oh, cool.” Glancing at the girls, you recognize that plotting look on Callie’s face and wait patiently. Coyly, you share with Darius, “I believe a request is coming.”

“Oh, most definitely.”

Sure enough, Callie is holding onto your leg, face peering up at you. “Mommy, can we see the fireworks tomorrow?” That’s certainly not what you expected to hear her ask. Callie has never been too big on fireworks. When she was younger, you’d have to lay in bed with her and soothe her to sleep because they made her nervous. Now she wants to go to an actual show? “Taylor is going too, right Taylor?”

Taylor nods happily. “And my mommy and grandma and grandpa.”

It's like the mentioning of additional parties triggers something for her, Callie offering suddenly, “Joe can come too!”

That gives you a pause. Joe’s never gone out in public with the two of you, outside of the hospital, but that doesn’t necessarily count. It was an emergency, not happy hour.

There’s a bit of anxiety, even though you know your town is the perfect place to do so. You’d put your head on the chopping board that less than five people would actually approach him, asking for autographs and such. They might recognize him, but they’d never approach.

It’ll also be the first time Callie can refer to him as her father instead of just Joe.

Finally deciding, you answer, “if you want to, baby.”

You and Darius share a laugh as the girls rejoice together. He pulls out his phone and offers, “why don’t I give you my wife’s number? You two can communicate regarding the meetup and whatnot.”

“Yeah, of course.” Exchanging information, you program Bianca Johnson into your phone, sending her a text after Darius says he’s already messaged her regarding Taylors new best friend.

It’s in programming the number though that you see an incoming call from Mariah. It’s an immediate decline.

Mariah: Would you pick up the damn phone, please?

Navigating to her thread, you put her on mute. It’s almost Christmas. You refuse to allow her or anyone else to ruing this for you or Callie.

________

Personally, you believe that there should be a mandatory set time for Children to wake up on Christmas. Preferably, any time after 10am. 12pm would be even better but highly unlikely given most kids go to bed extra early on Christmas Eve. Callie is no different. You and Joe get her down by 6:30pm which should have given you ample time to bake cookies, finish wrapping her gifts, the whole nine yards.

If only you two had a better sense of self-control, because the minute you were confident Callie was out for the night, he had you bent over the kitchen island. And that was….that was fine, because you’d been thinking about him being inside you from the moment he stepped foot in your place. Hell, from the moment he left.

But then you somehow ended up riding him on the living room floor, his back propped up against the sofa as you bounced on his dick, surrounded by the toys you should have been wrapping for your daughter. And while you eventually did get the gifts wrapped and cookies baked, you weren’t even able to change from out of your towel and into pajamas when this man propped you on your bathroom counter, spread your legs, and ate you out like he’d been fasting for 40 days and 40 nights.

It wasn’t entirely surprising. Joe’s always had a big appetite for sex, for you. Not that you were any better. And the fact of the matter was that having a kid meant you had to take advantage of the little free time you had, which you clearly did.

But it was now coming to bite you in the ass, because it’s goddamn 9 o’clock in the morning, and Callie is jumping up and down on your bed when all you want to do is sleep for another ten hours.

“Mommy! Joe! Santa came!”

It’s nearly impossible to hold in your groan, so you suppress it by turning over and pressing yourself into Joe. Of course, he’s already got his arm around you, holding you against his body. He’s also still knocked out.

Finding the strength, you shove on his chest. “Wake up.” It’s a bit incoherent, sleep still heavy in you and hindering your speech. Blinking your eyes open to allow the sun shining from the open curtains (courtesy of Callie) to motivate you to get your ass up, you punch him in his stomach. “Joe.”

He grunts, and you smile. “She’s up.”

Pleased with the fulfillment of her alarm clock duties, she jumps off the bed, yelling, “come on!”

At that, you sit up from the mattress, scolding her, “Calista Manaia Anoa’i, you got one more time to jump off this bed, sis!” Looking back to see Joe still trying to wake up, you shove him again. “You better get your daughter before she gets punished on Christmas.”

This helps to stir him as he lays on his back, hand on his forehead. “Leave her alone.” It takes a minute for you to refocus. His voice in general is sexy as hell, but that morning voice is something dangerous.

“Her ass is always trying to jump on and off shit.” Kicking off the blankets, you stretch and make your way into the bathroom to do your hygiene routine. Joe is not too far behind, coming in a few minutes later, slapping your ass as you’re bent over the sink spitting out your toothpaste. “Behave,” you warn. The two of you share the sink and counter space to get ready with you finishing first.

Back in the room, you make up the bed and check your phone, sending out a few, quick Merry Christmas texts, Bianca included. Even though you’ve only texted since yesterday, she seems pretty chill and you have a couple of things in common, kids around the same age, both working as teachers. It’s just unfortunate that she lives further down South. You’re not sure how you’re gonna break that to Callie, but that’s a task for another day.

Today is an exciting, happy occasion, and you’re not gonna let anything or anyone ruin it.

Joe is suddenly behind you, arms around your waist and mouth on the side of your neck.

“Merry Christmas, baby” he murmurs, pressing kisses against your skin.

Chewing down on your bottom lip, you turn around and lean up to kiss him. “Merry Christmas.” Hands on his chest, you ask, “You ready?”

He looks at you, clearly thinking about what you’re asking. This is what he’d been building up to, but you’re certain there’s some level of anxiety.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” he finally answers. You’re not certain if he’s speaking more to you or himself.

“She’s gonna be happy, Joe. I promise.” Stealing one more kiss, you take his hand. “Come on. She’s gonna start getting impa—”

“Come on!” She shouts from the living room, and you give him a look.

“That’s your child.” His chuckle follows you out of the bedroom and into the living room where Callie is literally bouncing on the heels of her feet near the Christmas tree. You’re not entirely certain, but you could have sworn there weren’t as many gifts there when you left for your shower and eventually bed.

“It’s Christmas!” Running over to Joe who swoops her up and kisses her cheek as she tells him Merry Christmas, you patiently wait for your turn, giving her a kiss and hug too before she’s pulling the both of you over to the tree.

Using your phone, you snap photos and record intermittent videos of her opening her gifts. And in doing so, you’re certain Joe added a couple more when you were in the shower. He’s definitely that dad who doesn’t see an issue with spoiling the shit out of his kid. And as long as Callie remains kind and respectful, you won’t stop him. He’ll definitely hear about it tonight, but you won’t actually interfere.

Alexa playing Christmas songs in the background helps to set the tone as well. Mostly Mariah Carey because it’s literal law that one must listen to All I Want for Christmas is You on Christmas day. Really, starting the day after Halloween.

You don’t make the rules.

Literal fucking law.

Callie suddenly pulls a gift, small and rectangular shaped, that you definitely don’t remember wrapping. “Mommy, it’s for you!” Thinking it’s something she made for you, you put your phone down and take it only to recognize that the writing is clearly too nice to be written by a child, not to mention that it has your name instead of mommy.

Your eyes land on him. “Joe….what is this?”

“Open it,” he encourages, waiting patiently.

Still in somewhat belief he would actually get you something, you rip off the packaging and gasp. You almost drop it reading the brand name written in gold calligraphy. “Chanel? Thee Chanel?”

“Who’s Chanel, mommy?”

“It’s a brand, baby,” you answer, distracted because you’re still stuck on the fact that you’re actually holding in your hand something that had to cost at least a thousand dollars. If not a couple thousand.

“Open it, mommy,” Callie presses. This girl is both nosy but also loves to see people receive gifts.

And so, you open it, gasping louder this time.

“Joe…..” It’s absolutely stunning, the most beautiful necklace you’ve ever seen. Gold. An intricately decorated ‘C’ pendant with a diamond in the middle. C for Chanel for most people. C for your heartbeat for you. “It’s beautiful….”

He moves over to you, helping to remove it from the box. As your hair is already up in a messy bun, he has no difficulty placing it around you, as Callie exclaims happily, “it’s a C!.”

“C for Callie,” you answer her, cupping her cheek before turning to Joe. “Thank you…..” Pulling him in for a hug, there’s something so emotional about this moment, something pure. You’ve never felt so cared for by anyone.

Never felt so loved.

He kisses your temple. “You never have to thank me for anything I do for you.”

Hating the fact that tears are brimming your eyes, you punch his shoulder, needing to not be so emotional. “You should have told me you got me something. Now I feel bad because I didn’t get you anything.”

Thumb caressing your cheek, he answers, softly. “You already did.” Confused, his eyes discreetly focus on Callie who’s back trying to figure out which toy she wants to play with first.

That….that does something to you.

You look at him, ready to say something, when you see it. See it in his eyes. A deep level of appreciation that indicates a story, a reason as to why this means the world to him. There’s something there. Something more he’s not saying, but you know it’s neither the time nor the place.

Now….now is the time for something else.

“Baby.” It’s surprisingly easy to catch Callie’s attention, so you pat the space in between the two of you. “Come here. We need to talk to you about something.”

Wordlessly, she plops right between ya’ll with that naturally inquisitive expression.

“Callie….” Joe feeling a bit nervous made sense to you, and you expected as such. But you never thought about your own trepidation in this moment. It’s difficult, but you do your best to push it away. “Do you….do you remember when you asked me about your dad?” She nods. “And why…..why you didn’t have one?”

She nods again, Joe this time grabbing her attention. “Callie, do you know why I came back in your mom’s life?”

She thinks about his question, answering tentatively, “because you missed mommy?”

He chuckles. “That’s true. I did miss her. A lot.” You try not to think too much about his words, to not make this moment about you or you and him. It’s about Callie. “But, I mostly came back because I wanted to meet you.”

Her eyes light up. “Really?”

He nods, “Calista, you are the sweetest, kindest, and smartest kid that I have ever met. And I love every second that I get to spend with you.” Joe brings his hand to gently palm her face. “And I especially love being your dad.”

You’re not quite sure if you’re breathing or even fully present in the few seconds it takes for Callie to process what he’s just said. But then, you see it, a smile that could light up times square. “Really?” She snaps her head in your direction, looking for confirmation. “Mommy, is Joe really my daddy?”

Sniffling, you wipe at your eyes. Damn feelings. You’ve been way too emotional lately. “He sure is, baby.”

Squealing, she literally throws herself against him, hugging him tightly. “It’s the best Christmas ever!”

“I love you, Callie.” Joe shuts his eyes, taking in this moment, kissing the top of her head. “And I’ll always be here for you.”

“I love you too, daddy!” If you could capture this moment, capture those words leaving her mouth, forever keep them as a keepsake to be preserved for all time, you would. Because it’s everything you’ve ever wanted for her. To know she’s wanted and loved by both her parents. And finally, that moment is no longer a hope but a reality.

“Wait!” She suddenly pulls away, grabbing the picture she’d drawn for Joe and given to him as a Christmas gift. “I’ll be back!”

He looks over at you. “What is she—”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” you answer with a murmur, still partially overcome with emotion.

However, Callie is back in a matter of minutes with that beautiful smile on her face. Flipping it over, she exclaims, “I fixed it.”

Your eyes immediately land on what she “fixed,” and your heart swells. She’s crossed out Joe’s name with a black marker and instead written above it “daddy.”

“I love it.” His voice is thick with emotion, and you move closer to him, laying against his side. Wanting to be with him in this precious moment.

Callie wasn’t lying.

This truly is the best Christmas.

________

“Come on! We’re gonna be late!”

Callie’s animated voice somehow travels to you and Joe despite all of the hustle and bustle occurring around you, the sea of bodies waiting for the fireworks show to begin. There’s not much distance between the two of you and her, enough for Joe to grab her if need be.

You walk close with him, you hands locked around his bicep.

His discomfort is obvious, so you assure, “relax. You’re not the tribal chief around here.” He glances at you. “They may notice you, but they’ll leave you alone. Especially since it’s Christmas.”

This seems to relieve him as she explains, “tonight is about her. I just don’t want to take away from that.”

“And you won’t, I promise. Just….just be present in this moment.” He takes your hand in his, giving a gentle squeeze. Continuing to walk with him, your eyes land on Taylor, Darius, and a woman who, even from a distance, looks vaguely familiar.

“Taylor!”

Callie rushes over to her new best friend, and the two embrace. You almost wish you had your phone out to take a picture. The woman wears a friendly smile, but instantly, something feels off. She approaches you, asking, “Y/N?”

Nodding, you’re shocked when she pulls you in for a hug and then apologizes. “I'm sorry. I’m a hugger, and I just feel like I know you already.”

Callie takes this moment to jump back in the conversation, rushing over to Joe and introducing, “this is my daddy!”

That settles some of your anxiety. You’re not certain you’ll ever get tired of hearing her refer to him as such, and you know he won’t either.

“Man, uhh, hi, nice–nice to meet you.” Immediately, you know that Darius most definitely recognizes Joe. “Big fan.”

“Thanks, man.” Joe, understandably, keeps it simple, and you clear your throat.

“Thank you for arranging this with us. Callie seems to really like Taylor.”

“Taylor too,” Bianca expresses with a smile, as you realize she also has dimples. It’s a little thing, stupid, but as much as you try, you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. “I swear, you would think they’ve known each other for years.”

Joe chuckles. “They’ve hit it off pretty well.”

“I’m sorry.” You hate being so off-putting and direct, especially given all of your text exchanges with this woman have gone so well, but you have to ask, “have we m—-”

“Bianca!”

A woman’s voice calls out, interrupting your conversation.

She looks past you and smiles, waving whoever it is over. “My parents,” she informs. “Over here!”

Callie and Taylor are immersed in a conversation, as you make eye-contact with Joe who gives you that ‘what’s wrong?’ expression. Answering truthfully, you shrug and murmur, “I don’t know.”

The presence of Taylor’s grandparents snatches her attention from Callie. “Grandpa!”

Turning around, you manage a small, inauthentic smile to introduce yourself when you see it. And everything is suddenly ten ways wrong.

There’s a brief second where you question yourself, question your vision, question your entire existence. But as he smiles, holding and kissing his grandchild on the cheek, you just know, know that you’re not wrong.

“Dad,” Bianca speaks, but you’re someplace else, someplace much different. “This is Y/N and…..”

She’s talking, but you’ve completely dissociated. You can’t say anything, paralyzed with shock and an overwhelming feeling of heartache.

That’s why she looked so familiar. You saw her that day at the precinct, coming into his office to inform him of her sibling’s misbehavior. This is his daughter.

This is your sister.

The daughter he picked over you.

And this is your father.

You’re going to be sick.

Partially aware of Joe’s suddenly cautious gaze on you, you place one hand over your stomach. “Excuse….excuse me….I—” You feel like you’re going to pass out, like four walls surround and are gradually closing in on you. Your throat is about to close up. “I have to go.” And you run, you run as far as your legs can take you, away from that situation, away from that visceral blast from the past, away from the overwhelming emotions that are threatening to overcome you.

And you don’t stop.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #roman reigns x black!reader #arisnotebook #black writers

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clockwayswrites · 1 year ago

Note

I would like. To propose a trade. If you tell us what Danny ~totally didn’t~ buy for Hood I definitely won’t do my level best to draw both items on their respective wearers. Doesn’t have to be a full blown… part? Chapter? …link on the masterpost that doesn’t exist or anything I’m just desperately curious and “not” willing to resort to bribery 👀

... I'm not bribe-able! Totally not! I would never.

Don't look under the cut.

cw: continuation of this, still at the kink shop, still talking mild bsdm

“You know, I think we have a leash that will match that one beautifully. Should we ring you up?”

“I, yeah, yes,” Danny said. He watched Liam look over the leashes, finding the right one. Which was really for the best, Danny didn’t know if he could manage to pick that out yet. He might just start with the collar. He was pretty sure Jason would enjoy it. But what about Hood? Sure they were the same person so they were both getting this present, but they weren’t the same. “Hey, um, you mentioned restraints?”

“Yes, we’ve got quite a selection, though you shouldn’t add too much at once,” Liam said, turning around with a rust colored leash that did indeed match the collar beautifully.

“No, not for me, well, I mean, yes but not… just is there anything that’s good for a person who might not like actually feeling too trapped? Like handcuffs are way out…”

“Ah, to tie up one of your boys.”

Danny gave a little nod.

“We do have some things,” Liam said, leading them off again. “Some people actually like it more. There is something about tying someone up and knowing that they can get out of it at any time. The only reason that they don’t is because they want to be tied up by you. It is often called honor bondage.”

That… okay, Danny could really see the appeal behind that.

Liam stopped plucked a red silk ribbon off of a display. It was an absolutely delicate looking thing with it’s subtle details and tasseled ends. Hood could snap it in an instant.

“Did I pick the right color?”

Danny swallowed. “Yes, it’s perfect.”

#askme answeryou #anevensmollersnek #dp x dc #dead on main #the fic that i'm not writing

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yesimwriting · 2 years ago

Text

Sick Day

Set in the Final Girl universe, but it is a stand alone fic that can easily be read with no context :)

Summary: Billy and Stu don’t get why they’re so antsy about the latest addition to their friend group being absent from school. Sure, they talk about her more than they talk about anyone else, but not seeing her for one day isn’t enough to justify panic, right? Guess that doesn’t matter, because they find a way to justify checking in anyways.

a/n if you haven’t read final girl and this makes you curious,, the main fic and extras can be found here: Final Girl Series

fun fact, this is chronologically set at some point after ‘first impressions’ but before the main series, if you haven’t read either that’s fine, it’ll still make sense, i just like building “lore” lol

also if there are any typos i’m sorry, i’m stuck wearing a wrist brace for a little while, especially while writing

also this was really fun to write so i might do some more mini fics in the final girl universe in between full chapters, it’s more low stakes and is a good way for me to work on adding to their dynamics,, so if you have any ideas/requests for final girl universe specific stuff pls feel free to ask!

----

It didn’t take Billy long to realize that part of your appeal comes from the fact that you’re not as predictable as everyone else. Maybe it’s because you’re still new, but that’s easy in Woodsboro, where lifelong friendships are practically assigned by the locker you’re given on your first d of middle school.

You’re also a contradiction. Almost everything you’re feeling is visible on your face, but what you’re thinking isn’t as easy to guess. It balances you out, keeping you from being unknown enough to be threatening but still letting you pop enough to keep you from blurring into the background.

That’s part of the reason he picked up on your routine so quickly. What he knows about you isn’t as concrete as what he has on the people that are a part of his plan, but he knows enough. More than he intended to. He memorized your classes without meaning to and knows the time you get to school and the approximate time you leave. It’s useful, he tells himself, you’re around Sidney and Tatum all the time and him and Stu are still working on fitting you into the plan.

Sure, they’ve decided that you fit as their potential final girl, but it’s rocky. You bring out something panicky in him and some days it’s too much to be around you and know you have the ability to affect him. It’s not the same, not at all, but Billy can’t help the way it reminds him of what his mom’s distance used to make him feel. At risk. And Billy knows Stu, knows that he probably thinks about you twice as much as he brings you up and that there’s such a thing as Stu liking someone too much.

When there’s uncertainty, it’s easy to fall back on routine, and you stick to a relatively simple one. You get to school riding close to late more often than not, during your study hall you tend to study outside unless Randy doesn’t use it as an excuse to leave early, then you bother him in the library (something Billy doesn’t get), and you take a little longer at your locker at the end of the day. Billy also knows you’re not one to skip.

You’re never not at school (which may or may not have lead to an increase in the regularity of Stu and Billy’s attendance). You’re too hyper focused on your grades to not show up without a reason. So when Billy passes by your locker right before the home room bell rings and you’re not there it’s weird.

Billy knows you really must not be here when his eyes land on Stu, who’s staring at your locker. Stu walks you to most of your classes and always walks you to homeroom.

“She’s not here,” Billy summarizes flatly.

Stu turns his head, a little unsure. “Or she went to class without me.”

The jab would be subtle to anyone else, but Billy knows what Stu’s getting at. “She’d still be at her locker, she’s always running late in the morning.” Billy focuses on hearing his words, tries to feel them. “We can check her homeroom.”

A casual enough suggestion. Still not overly concerned. Stu has to walk past your classroom to get to his anyways and Billy takes that route sometimes. With that justification, the two walk down the hall and peak through the door’s long window as un-notably as possible. You’re not in your usual spot, at the desk right behind Casey Becker, who you talk to from time to time (a potential future problem they’re both aware of).

By lunch, it’s confirmed that you never showed up. You’re not in the first period you have with Stu or the third period you have with Sidney and Billy. Tatum brings it up first. Where’s Y/n? Sidney shrugged and mumbled about how you weren’t in second period today. It only took a minute for the girls and Randy to brush over your absence with a simple she must be sick.

That got under Billy’s skin a little and he couldn’t figure out why. You’re almost weirdly into the whole school thing--everyone here could likely list your top 3 colleges--and stubborn. Even if you’re only absent because you’re sick, you must be pretty knocked out to not be here. But why should he care about you being really sick or your friends being relatively dismissive?

“Isn’t she a little...Annie Wilkes about school?” Stu’s question comes out casually enough.

Randy looks up, “She’s not that bad.”

Stu blinks, forcing himself to stay in the moment. Randy was quick to defend you even though Stu’s seen him call you worse to your face. Maybe that back and forth is a sad attempt at flirting. “Easy, no one’s saying anything bad about your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Knock it off, Stu, they’re basically related,” Billy forces the words out as casually as he can manage.

Sidney picks up on the joke, mumbling some comment about how they do sort of act like siblings, which gets Tatum off on some tangent about her brother. The conversation doesn’t circle back to the person that’s missing.

In the english class you share with Billy and Stu, the teacher hands back an old essay and gives out a homework packet. The two of them exchange a look. That’s a good enough excuse to stop by your house...if they...wanted to, which they don’t because it’s not like your absence is that relevant.

Billy talks to the teacher after class anyways, saying that he could make sure you get the graded essay and homework. You’re friendly enough that he’s sure he’ll be able to get it to you before you come to class and it’s never a bad idea to have options. Stu doesn’t say anything when Billy gets the papers and neatly places them in a folder.

----

There’s all this energy and there’s no real outlet for it. Stu doesn’t know what it is, he can’t tell what he wants to do with it or what’d make it feel better. He’s felt versions of it all day, having it drop and morph into an off-brand version of that dark, craving feeling he gets at the thought of feeling a knife plunge into someone and rise back up to an antsy-ness that’d better fit a kid in line for a ride at a theme park.

The energy reaches its peak on the front steps of your porch, but the feeling doesn’t settle on a particular charge. It remains focused on the more positive side of the spectrum, but it’s undercut by some of the urgency of the other urge.

He had been the first one to bring it up after school, when Billy and him were finally alone. It had started relatively detached, things are still weird when they mention you outside of certain contexts. They’re so used to being open about other things that the fact that they’re both almost shy about something--someone--is twisting. It’s a feeling they’re still learning to take in larger doses.

They had spent a little too long trying to find an angle to justify a pop in to themselves. It’s one thing to think about you, to talk about you, to like you even. But it’s something else entirely to openly care. To worry about why you’re missing school or if you’re sick.

Eventually, want won and Billy finally said something that stuck. She can’t be a final girl if she’s dying, and we need her to trust us, to like us.

This is stupid. A flaring feeling in Billy’s chest has been yelling at him to stop since the idea first formed his mind. It’s a distorted echo of his father’s voice.

Billy swallows once, forcing himself to finally knock. The only thing more pathetic than what he’s doing is lingering, coming here and then turning back.

The seconds pass and with each of them, they both feel worse about their decision. And then they hear the lock click and the front door opens and they see you.

You look more tired than usual and the blanket that’s practically swallowing you whole makes you seem smaller, more vulnerable even though you’re more covered than usual. You squint at the sunlight in a way that makes them think you’ve spent the day in intentionally dimly lit spaces. It takes you a second, but once you finally register them, it’s visible. You’re grinning, practically beaming.

Billy feels the reaction in his chest. It strains uneasily beneath his ribs, not much unlike what he imagines a heart palpitation could feel like. He briefly thinks he might be able to hold the discomfort against you, but even that thought mostly fades.

Stu’s flooded with the strange desire to wrap you up in bundles of blankets the way that his mom used to when he was younger. The few times it happened, it was weirdly comforting. He can’t remember the last time she took the time to make sure he was warm until his fever broke, but he knows his dad put a stop to it at an early age. Too needy, too dependent.

“Hi?” It’s partially a question, and your voice hints at raspiness.

Snapping back into reality, Billy answers, “You weren’t at school.” Your eyebrows draw together and Billy realizes that that wasn’t the easy reaction he thought it’d be. It’s too open and implies concern.

“Yeah, I kinda have a cold-fever-something. It’s a bug my mom brought home from work. I thought she was being dramatic, but it totally knocked me out.” You lean against your front door. If you sense either of their conflicts, you give no indication of it. “Karma, I guess.”

Stu lets out a laugh at that. “Karma? You were that mean?”

Your lips pull into an almost-smile. “The universe seemed to think so.”

“You think the universe gave you a punishment cold, but your mom’s the dramatic one?” Stu’s biting down a grin, all concerns about showing up melting.

You glare halfheartedly, “You can’t be not-on-my-side when I’m sick. That’s like...against friend...rules.” Your eyebrows draw together. “That was--that was really lame, forget I said that.”

The reaction is so warm and you’re doing your best even though you’re clearly still not feeling well and Billy feels an awful swell of what’s likely fondness. “Not sure I want to.”

Rolling your eyes, you relax even more of your weight against the doorframe. The shift is small, but Billy can’t help but note it. Are you just being casual or are you that tired? “You’re both here to cause problems.”

“We’re here to be nice.” The look on your face says you might be a little out of it but you haven’t lost IQ points. “We got our essays back and some homework. Billy picked up yours and I drove him to school, and because one day felt way too long to go without seeing you...”

Your laugh is punctuated by a brief cough you burry into your elbow. It’s not like you’re coughing up a lung, but it is a little concerning. “You guys grabbed my stuff?”

The genuine surprise in your voice sticks out. “Yeah,” Billy slides his backpack off of his shoulders and starts unzipping it, “One of those friend rules.”

Billy finds his folder as you roll your eyes. “Funny.”

“It’s what I’m known for,” he keeps his voice flat, and the sarcasm feels a little off, but you smile and that makes it a little easier.

He hands you the papers, his fingertips brushing against yours. “I see why.”

“I never get that many gold stars.” Stu leans forward, re-reading some of the notes scribbled on next to your grade. “Maybe you should invite me over, tutor me...”

Your nose wrinkles. “Shut up.” By now they’ve learned that that’s the closest you’ll come to retreating.

Stu exaggerates a frown, “What? Bringing you your stuff doesn’t get us invited in?”

The redirect is a bit of a stretch, but you’re used to the jumps and you’re tired enough to not read much into it. Not as much as Billy does, who’s a little surprised because he and Stu never talked about what they’d do after. He decides that it’s harmless enough.

Turning your head a little, it almost feels like a part of you forgot there was anything to be invited into. “I don’t want to get you guys sick.”

It’s such a you response. Always considerate, polite. Billy looks past you and into the house. There’s no noise indicating that anyone’s in there, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re alone. Though the one time he came over to work on a project, he briefly met your mother and was given the impression that she likes making her presence alone. There’s also your mother’s boyfriend, who wasn’t around when Billy came over but based on your comments, he’s not sure being alone with him isn’t worse than being alone.

“Are you okay?” The question comes out of Billy a little unexpectedly. “You don’t look too...”

You glare. “Thanks.”

“Not like--” Billy cuts himself off with a sigh. Your eyebrows pinch together briefly. “You look too sick to be alone. At least say your mom’s here.”

Billy takes in the details of your reaction even though he already has a good idea on what you lying looks like. Harmless, white lies often used to seem more okay with things than you actually are. He sees something similar in the way your chin tilts upwards slightly. “I’m fine.”

That’s all the confirmation Billy needs. You’re definitely alone. The lack of lie and attempt at dismissal is oddly endearing, especially while you’re like this, leaning against the front door and squeezing your blanket a little tighter. Wait--are you colder? It’s warm out today and there’s not even a breeze.

A half thought embeds itself beneath Billy’s skin. He gives in, extending an arm slowly. You’re just as confused until Billy’s turning his hand so that the back of his palm is facing you. “I’m--Billy, it’s--”

The cutoff of your words is sudden, your lips still partially parted, some other jumble of words dying in the back of your throat as Billy’s hand meets your forehead. You don’t move away. It’s been a few seconds, definitely long enough for Billy to have deduced whether or not you have a fever. How did his mom use to do this?

He takes his time dropping his arm back to his side. Billy doesn’t have too many references to what a fever feels like on someone else, but you did feel warm. “You have a fever.”

You press your lips together briefly in a forced pout. “You’re worse than my mom.” The blanket is slipping off of your shoulders, you tug it back up. “I’ll take some Tylenol, find a jar of vapor rub.” Angling your head to glance behind you again, you’re returning to that awkward uncertainty.

The small dismissal digs at them both. It’s bad enough that they let themselves get to this point over one absence and here you are, alone and unwell and completely okay with sending them away. “You sure you’re good here?”

This time you’re considering it. The proof of the deliberation is there in your silence. More often than not it takes you two or three offers to accept anything you think is an inconvenience. You’re nice to a point of fault. “I’m okay, because no one dies of fever, but if hanging out for a little and seeing absolutely nothing happen to me makes you guys feel better, that’d be cool. But you need to be careful.”

Stu grins, “I thought no one dies of a fever.”

You take a step back, offering some space for them to pass, “I hope you get this, I think you could use a karma cold.”

“Now I see why you have one,” Stu mumbles, pretending to be more annoyed than he feels as he steps into your house as you turn your head to stick your tongue out at him.

Billy follows, lingering in your doorway before shutting your front door. You’re approaching the kitchen, turning your head to look Billy in the eye, “What do you think? Stu deserve one?”

He briefly pretends to debate, “Worse.”

You laugh at the irritated sound Stu lets out at the back of his throat. “Do you guys want anything?” They swear they’re fine as you pour yourself a glass of water and use it to down two tylonel tablets. “If my mom gets back from work and thinks I haven’t offered you guys anything to eat or drink, I’m not hearing the end of it.”

“We’ll defend you.” Stu rests his weight against the kitchen counter, noting the bottle of cough syrup still out. “You need this?”

You shake your head immediately. “I took some earlier and still feel foggy. I slept most of today.”

Stu runs his thumb over the white cap, watching it spin without coming off. He considers pushing. Billy changes the subject before Stu has fully made up his mind, “You would be the type to have the most boring sick day.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You’re offended, and it’s oddly soft. “I didn’t just sleep.”

Billy’s amused enough to press, “What else did you do?”

“I think I know...” There’s a smugness in Stu’s voice that instantly floods you with embarrassment. Oh no. He’s found them. You snap your head up in time to see Stu holding up some of the tapes you left stacked on the counter. “Beverly Hills 90210, the first four seasons.”

Billy looks right past you and focuses on Stu. “Only four?”

“Uh--” You’re caught. “Five’s on right now...and I don’t have a copy of six.” They’re both too quiet, fighting the urge to burst into laughter. “Don’t judge. Trashy teen soaps are popular for a reason.”

“What about artistic integrity?”

You dismiss Billy’s question with a scoff that’s a hint too raspy. “Cheap writing in Hollywood isn’t my fault.”

Instead of returning with another joke (maybe some comment about what Randy would say if he ever found out), Billy pushes himself off of the wall he was leaning against and approaches your refrigerator.

Billy knows he’s at least heard of the usual home remedies, but he can’t quite place them. Won’t place them because the only person that ever worried about these kinds of things isn’t someone Billy’s willing to think about right now.

Starve a fever or maybe that’s colds. There’s also...electrolytes? And hydration. That’s probably the best idea. Why does it matter? That thought bothers him, digs under his skin and settles at a wrong angle. He’s seen you. You’re alive, unscathed, and relatively fine. It’s not like any of the bad thoughts were proven right--you weren’t skipping for some other person or leaving.

But you’re uncomfortable. And alone. And vulnerable. Billy hates it. Hates that his awareness of your feelings is lodging itself in his mind and that he can’t really help and that it matters. He’s not sure he remembers the last time anyone besides Stu’s feelings actually mattered. Maybe Sidney’s did once, awhile ago, but that--that didn’t feel nearly as urgent as this.

“You okay?” Your voice snaps him back to the moment, to the glass of water he was getting. “You’re kind of staring at that glass like it knows something it shouldn’t.”

You drop your voice a little, chin tilting down as you try to be funny. The humor is real enough that Billy doesn’t feel overly pushed, but he does note the thinly veiled genuineness in your words. That’s another thing about you. You say things and you mean them. Even if it’s completely casual, even if it’s a sentiment you’ll forget about immediately until it comes up again. You mean it.

Billy sets the freshly filled glass on the counter, “Drink more water, your voice sounds like it could be used by a horror movie villain.”

You frown like Billy’s offended you beyond repair. Just as he thinks you might protest, you pick up the glass and down a fair amount in a few gulps. “Happy?”

“Oh, he’s thrilled,” Stu hums, “That’s what he looks like when he’s happy.”

“I think I believe you.” Billy waits until your attention is fully on Stu before letting himself give in and smile a little.

Stu takes a step towards you, “I’d never lie to you, baby.” He ignores the slight face you make at the nickname. Being sick must make you more irritable because you’ve let much more creative nicknames slide. Stu cups your face between his hands before you can protest. You don’t move or try to shake him off. He takes a second to exaggeratedly feel your skin. “You’re as hot as you look and that’s saying something.”

“I’m wearing Christmas pajama pants that I got in 8th grade and I spent half the morning on the bathroom floor. No one could find this look attractive.” Stu half shrugs, protests already building, but you snap back to reality before he can get them out. “And if I’m that hot,” you step back, using your hands to pry him off of you, “You shouldn’t be touching me.”

He takes a step towards you. “My immune system’s strong.” Stu briefly flexes an arm, “You think all this could be supported by a weak one?”

You half smile, giving Stu the opportunity he needs to place his hands on the soft blanket still on your shoulder’s. Again, he’s pleasantly surprised when you don’t brush him off. “You’re gonna get sick.”

Stu rubs a hand up and down your left shoulder, hoping the gesture comes off as light and comforting. “I’ll be fine.”

Nothing about Stu has given you the indication that he’d be a tolerable sick person. Also, a small part of you is worried a cold like this could really take him out. He rarely dresses warm enough and you’ve seen the amount of energy drinks he’s willing to consume on one day. You’re also not sure you’ve ever seen him eat anything with significant nutritional value. “Every day I find out you’ve managed to keep yourself alive, I’m pleasantly surprised.”

He squeezes your shoulder. “You’re cranky when you’re sick.”

“At least she said pleasantly.”

Stu looks past you to throw a dirty look in Billy’s direction. “Aw, he’s jealous of what we have.”

Okay--you might be drowsy but you know where the play fighting over you goes. It starts off lighthearted enough, but if you’re not careful it can end kind of sour. One second everyone’s joking and the next Stu’s actually pushing you to pick a side on something that should be harmless but feels heavy. Sometimes Billy gets a little more involved than you think he wants to seem and it never feels fully about you. It’s like half of what they say means something else to them.

“Okay, no fighting over me,” you shrug Stu off as best you can without losing your blanket, “I belong to this blanket and the couch.”

You grab your cup of water off the counter and start walking to the living room without checking if they’re following. You hear their footsteps, but pay little mind to that as you settle on the couch and set your glass on the coffee table.

Billy sits down next to you. “Couch and not your room?”

Reluctantly sighing, you drop your head back, letting your neck rest at an awkward angle. "I live here now.”

He can’t tell how much of that is a joke. Are you feeling that sick? “Right.”

Your attention briefly flickers to the TV, the cliche teen drama that’s still playing being enough to suck you back in even though you’ve missed some context. To him it just looks like overly pretty-ed people overreacting. The scene ends and you return to the present enough to shrug off your blanket and settle the fabric more comfortably on your lap. “You guys can change the tape if you want.”

A small mercy. Billy stands and begins looking at the tapes stacked on a shelf near the TV. It’s a fair collection, but the movies he saw in your room the time he came over to work on a project were better. He picks the first title that feels decent enough for background that doesn’t seem like too much just in case you’re prone to nausea.

You’re patiently waiting for the tapes to switch out. Stu’s being quiet, which would have clued you in on a better rested, less sick day. You don’t realize he’s planning anything until you feel the side of your blanket being tugged on. “Stu.”

He scoots closer, “It’s cold.”

Stu stretches his legs, weaseling himself under your blanket. You weakly try to push him out “There’s another blanket over there.” He ignores you, adjusting so that your legs overlap. “You’re going to get sick.”

“Your pants are soft,” it’s said so softly, like a kid getting clothes fresh from the laundry. You’re not sure you have it in you to ruin his good mood. He stretches a foot past your knee and a few inches up your thigh before relaxing back into place. “Fuzzy.”

Despite what you’re wearing, you can feel the comfortable warmth radiating off of him, turning the space beneath the blanket into a space heater. “You’re like a radiator.”

“I’ll keep you warm an--”

“Don’t ruin it.”

He frowns, mumbling something about you being “no fun” before sinking further into the couch. You pull more of the blanket onto you and Stu’s hit with the realization that you might not be warm enough. “You want another blanket?”

You’re clearly surprised by the question. “Uh--no, I think I’m--”

Stu pushes himself so that his legs are almost off your lap in order to reach the fabric draped over an armchair. He moves back into place and makes a point of draping the blanket over you. “Warmer?”

“Yeah,” the admission is hesitant.

That is so like you, needing a little push to accept what you need. “Told ya.”

He must be right because you don’t say anything else. Silence is usually your way of being reluctantly wrong. Stu takes his victory as an excuse to move a little closer.

Billy sits back down, settling a little closer to the side of the couch. He’s not exactly jealous of how open Stu is. Distance is a good thing, a smart thing. But he does--

A weight on his shoulder. It takes less than a second for realization to wash over him. You’re relaxed, head resting on his upper arm. The room feels a little snugger but it’s not an uncomfortable change.

The opening credits of the movie are rolling off screen and your eyes are focused on that. “Not to make this weird or lame,” you pause, sniffling slightly as you breathe, “But you guys are kind of nice, sometimes.”

That has to be a sign of you being tired. Billy fights down a smile. “Sometimes?”

Stu turns his leg to tap your knee, “I think we deserve a little more than that.”

You move your hand under the blanket to halfheartedly flick his leg. After that, your hand relaxes and rests there. “Fine. Most of the time.”

#scream x reader #scream 1996 #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher #stu macher x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface #poly! ghostface x reader #final girl fic

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arliedraws · 20 days ago

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I think one of the main reasons I object to wolfstar is because it kind of subordinates Harry’s relationship with Sirius. Like, wolfstar being an old married couple takes away from the codependence (which I don’t mean in a bad way at all) of Sirius and Harry in GOF and OOTP.

I wish I could love it but anyone who thinks Sirius was being all cutesy and domestic with Remus in OOTP is reading a very different book than me. The only person who is rivalling Harry for Sirius’ time and attention is James which is such a big part of his appeal!

I think the way that fanon portrays Sirius/Remus is precisely this. Sirius is totally, 100% preoccupied with Harry. Well, maybe not 100%, as he’s dealing with massive trauma and depression.

I think the reason Remus stays at Grimmauld Place in OotP is because he’s worried about Sirius. If they were sharing a room in OotP (they weren’t), I can almost guarantee there wasn’t any sex going on. I don’t know if people are aware of what often happens to libido and attraction when you’re depressed, but it’s virtually nonexistent.

Remus prompts Sirius to get dressed. Remus gently puts away the alcohol. Remus doesn’t fuss when Sirius breaks down unexpectedly—he’s just there. And Remus feels really terrible when he has to leave Grimmauld Place for long stretches at a time. I don’t feel like this needs to be romantic. It could be, sure, but trust me—I’ve looked after people while they’re depressed and it wasn’t romantic or sexy. At all. It’s a lot of sitting around and not knowing what to do for that person. (Even when I’m caring for my partner—to whom I am very, very attracted—I do not want to have sex with him when he is massively depressed and he does not want to have sex with me during that time either.)

I’m really not anti SB/RL, but the way it’s often written as cutesy or whatever just rubs me the wrong way like you said. Sirius is a very serious person—not that he isn’t funny or charming, but he’s a person who isn’t frivolous and he is NOT submissive. And yet he can turn sooooo OOC in Wolfstar. And looooook, I am a professional Sirius multishipper—you can keep these two people in character and give them a relationship. I just rarely see it done well.

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dozing-marshmallow · 1 year ago

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chris mclean x reader when reader finds out they are pregnant?? Smth like that or just chris with his and readers baby? How he’d act like a dad or smth

I can’t lie, this motivated me since I always tend to think about how Chris would be as a dad 😭 Daily reminder to drink water and eat well everyone💗! Enjoy reading!

CHRIS MCLEAN AS A DAD HEADCANONS

Chris definitely has thought about being a parent during his occupation of hosting a show of teenagers.

He just didn’t expect that thought to become a thing so soon.

He used to internally mock a lot of the contestants’ parents for the way some of them turned out. Now here he was, worrying how his seed will bloom.

Having children actually did appeal to him, he’s just aware that being a dad would require a lot from him and he wasn’t sure if he could dedicate himself to that for the next few decades or so, especially at a time where his career was opening so many opportunities for him.

You were excited, holding the positive pregnancy test to him,“Isn’t this amazing, Chris? I’m holding your baby! You’re gonna be a dad!”

“It really is mine, huh?” He blinks, scratching the side of his head,“Sorry if I don’t sound excited or anything... It’s sorta hard for me to feel sentimental about this kind of stuff instantly.”

“Don’t worry.” you kiss his cheek,“You’ll feel something, sooner or later.”

He nods in consensus,“‘Course! But don’t take it that I’m not happy; when you first told me, I wanted to celebrate by pouring ourselves a glass of fine wine...just for me to remember you can’t drink alcohol for the next few months.” he chuckled at the last part.

“Chriiis...” your saliva was now filling the back of your mouth at the thought of that strong daring drink,“Why would you say thaaat?”

“Don’t worry! If it makes you feel better, I’ll give it up for you until the baby comes. Until the baby comes... Huh.” a bemused look crawls on his skin,“Never thought I’d say that.”

“Didn’t you think about having a baby before, Chris?” now it was your turn to blink.

“That’s a question you can ask anyone, (Y/N).” his eyes slide around,“But sure. It’s about time I passed my amazing, talented, good looks down the family tree.”

You made it clear to Chris that while you were in full agreement to spoiling the baby, you wanted them to know about gratitude and patience.

Chris was set on your condition, because there was no way he wasn’t going to spoil this child.

He has money to spend.

Often, you have emotional outbursts, thinking you’re ugly and that Chris was going to leave you for a more attractive woman.

”It’s no fair...” you sobbed,“If my body was going to be made to give life, why is it reacting so dramatically?”

Chris wasn’t cruel enough to involve your side effects of pregnancy with his sadism,“Dramatically is a big stretch... It’s your first time, you haven’t done anything like it before.”

“True... But I’m worried you don’t think I’m attractive anymore. I mean.” She scanned him up and down,”You haven’t changed one bit this entire pregnancy and here I am, a weeping sack of fat. I wouldn’t be surprised if...if...you...saw other girls...”

“(Y/NN)...” he gently lays his head on your tummy,“I know being on TV may have made you super insecure, but you’re still the same beautiful thing I fell in love with. Pregnant or not, no other gal could be as cool as you are.”

He wasn’t going anywhere,“Thanks...Chris.”

Also if you wanna know how the contestants reacted...they were horrified. For a variety of reasons- the future of the child’s life with a dad like Chris, what Chris had to do to even conceive that child etc.

The only ones that properly congratulated you were DJ and...

Yeah, just DJ.

You knew their reasons to be concerned, but you trusted Chris to be a good dad, even if he was eccentric, both on and off TV.

When labour rolls around, you’re clutching Chris’ hand. At contractions, you would bite onto the edge of his shirt. He knows he has no right to tell you to calm down, so he uses his other hand to pet your head and his mouth to tell you everything was going to be fine.

Thanks to all the remedies Chris bought for you during the pregnancy, the birth was bearably fast and you didn’t suffer any complications.

It was all worth it, to hear the crying of your reddening flower, alive and well, seeing the face your and Chris’ DNA fused.

You had never been more grateful for him.

One of the few times he cried. Holding that bawling bundle of love, the paternal sentiment dawned on him at last, in the room of white on a cloudy day.

“So... I’m...a dad now...” he settled, looking down at the scrunched up face of the baby he’s made, wet nose twitching,“Hey there...”

You nod, peering over, whole family in tears,“Welcome to the world, sweetheart.”

He was a lot more affectionate than he thought he would be. He enjoys cradling the infant, keeping an eye on her as you rest, feeding her, as part of his routine.

He always finds a way to include her in any conversation he has.

Even at night, when she cries and he’s woken up, groggy and heavy-headed, it never fails to bring a smile on his face, that it was his baby he’s shushing back to slumber.

The baby loves feeling around Chris’ face and his black hair whenever he holds her on the couch.

And we all know how tight a baby’s grip is.

Well Chris didn’t until his daughter held a batch of his hair in her first for an hour.

“(Y/NNN)! Make her let go of me!” he begged you, holding her away as far as her stubborn arm would allow, having enough.

Rather than assisting him, you remained where you were and chuckled at the little one’s mischief,“She must really like your hair.”

“I like my hair too, but you don’t see me grabbing it for an hour!” he whined.

Hearing her dad’s harmless frustration, the baby giggled and let go.

Chris froze. With his ageing umber eyes, he locks them onto the fulgent new, squinting from smiling, eyes of his baby. Next thing you knew, he juxtaposed what he was whining about ten seconds ago by bringing the soft face of his daughter right onto his, stroking, sniffling,“I have the most adorable baby in the world...!”

Though being a dad did undeniable changes to Chris, he was still him, you know? No amount of children could ever erase his personality.

For example, you’ve caught him several times trying to get the baby interested in violent movies and sharks.

“Chris! You’ll scare her little mind half to death!” you scold, picking her up from his side.

“What, like our generation didn’t grow up with scary stuff? She can handle it, put her back down!” he argued, annoyance gracing his gorgeous face.

Considering she’s Chris’ child, she probably could.

It’s not surprising that Chris would feed any offspring of his the tv show he was most famous for and even bring her on set.

You admit you felt a bit unsure about her being exposed to a lot of the content of Total Drama, but you knew, without a scent of doubt, Chris would keep her safe by all costs.

He’d do this thing where as he’s addressing his viewers on Total Drama, he’d have the baby on his lap and she’s just mindlessly looking around or sucking his hand. He’d give her a remote control to release something dangerous like a bomb on the campers and laugh when she unintentionally activates it by putting it inside her mouth.

Rewatching old episodes though, the child squealed every time Chris came on screen, Dama! Dama! (Drama! Drama!)

You weren’t surprised when she cooed “Dada” before “Mama”.

There you go, she had two names for Chris. You?

Nothing.

Were you upset by it? Eh, maybe a little. You found the more important part being your husband discovering to really enjoy being a dad to a child who really loves him too.

You turn to see Chris playing peek a boo with her.

Mother’s paradise.🌺

#chris mclean x reader #tdi #td chris #tdi x reader #chris mclean #total drama #total drama chris mclean #request #total drama island chris #td chris mclean x reader #total drama chris #total drama headcanons #total drama scenarios #dad chris mclean

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starwrighter · 1 year ago

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I am not a baby!! (yes you are)

(Ao3) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

(Chapter 14)

Damian was fighting for his life, for his dignity! Uproarious laughter rang in his ears, his siblings cheering for karma.

“This is the best day of my life!” Tim cried. “The tides turn! It’s a miracle!”

“I let him win!” He defended, watching the hatchling swim around.

“Sure ya did,” Jason added sarcastically.

“He’s smaller than a Mesmer! You’d have to be an idiot to think I couldn’t defeat him!” The hatchling is tiny, likely twice as fragile as the rest of his clutch despite his ferocity.

“Can we please not goad Damian into killing the guppy?” Dick admonished, the eldest being the only one of his siblings with sense.

“I’m just saying, a hatchling got him to back off twice,”

“I didn’t want to crush him!” He snapped, “What was I supposed to do?” Damian could’ve easily snapped his tail and thrown the hatchling away. He just didn’t want to hurt the guppy.

“I get it. Babies are a terrifying force to be reckoned with. We’re all glad you escaped with your life,” Jason teased with faux sympathy.

“He didn’t scare me! And he sure as the Lava zone didn’t defeat me,” He screeched, tail thrashing back and forth through the bright red grass of the grassy plateaus.

“Listen,” Tim started. I know how hard it is to admit defeat,”

“Of course, you know how to admit defeat Drake,” Damian interrupted. “But I wasn’t defeated, so I can’t relate,” He sneered.

“It’s worse than we thought,” Tim replied sadly, “He’s in denial!”

“I am not in denial!!” He roared, startling the hatchling. The hatchling fled his nest, swimming back into his egg.

A noxious cloud of decay spilled into the water. A putrid scent of death assaulted his senses. Worse than anything a gaslopod could shoot out but still appealing to the scavengers of the shallows. Blood clouding the water smelled too rotten to belong to the living hatchling but was similar enough to send his heart racing.

Often these eggs hatched one or two babies, the amount of viscera spread out through the shallows was enough to suggest two babies had been inside that egg. One child rotting before they even got a chance to hatch.

The living hatchling emerged alone once again… Depressing.

“What're we going to call him?” Dick asked.

“The girls would be pissed if we named him without them,” Jason added.

“They should’ve been here if they wanted to name him,” Damian said. “ They have no reason to be mad at us for their tardiness,” He finished.

“Disrespectfully, I don’t want to die,” Jason said.

“Can we at least discuss names?” Dick whined.

“You haven’t even met him!”

“Only because you’re hogging him!” His older brother pouted.

“He’s very stab happy, would you rather I let him swim to you and attack a reaper on the way?” Damian sniped back.

“I’d rather you let us help you guard him,”

“No! I’m perfectly capable of watching a hatchling,”

“…but he stabbed you?”

“Just a scratch, barely a concern,” Damian defended, “A tiger plant could hit harder than he did,”

“I for one, vote we keep the stabby teenager away from the stabby baby,” Tim suggested.

“Shut up or I’ll teach him to stab you on command!” Damian sneered, cutting off the bond. He needed time to think.

Damian turned, but the hatchling was nowhere to be seen. His blood froze, gills flaring. No no no no no no no, he couldn’t be the one to lose this hatchling. Father would never trust him with anything ever again! Shooting over to the little one’s nest, Damian tapped on the barrier.

Tap…Tap…Tap…

Nothing

Tap…Tap…Tap

Again

Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.

Faster, more consistent, he braced himself for the hatchling to shoot out and start mauling him again. Still nothing, not a peep or shuffle.

He lost the hatchling.

@ashoutinthedarkness @avelnfear @meira-3919 @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @hugsandchaos @blep-23 @zeldomnyo @bytheoldwillowtree @justwannabecat @shepherdsheart @starlightcat04 @stargazing-bookwyrm @pupstim @dragongoblet @noxcheshire

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #subnautica au #Danny escaped by swimming above Damian #Damian didn't think to look up

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mundanemoongirl · 2 months ago

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I just finished Gideon the Ninth and I have THOUGHTS

I’ve seen people talk about this book for a while but never about the plot, so I pretty much went in blind. I wish I knew before reading it that there is a glossary at the end. I was so confused for most of the book and would have gotten invested a lot faster if I understood the terms. That one was on me. My bad.

Okay so obviously there are some issues—every book has their own. It took me over a hundred pages to really get into the book because I didn’t understand the world or plot. I think more can be explained at the beginning. It’s such a fascinating world; Muir should give us much more of it. My other main issue is that sometimes there are paragraphs after paragraphs of dialogue and each line has a dialogue tag. There’s only two people talking. You don’t have to keep telling me who they are.

For a book I thought I wouldn’t like for the longest time, I was pleasantly surprised. Like I love it so much that I got on here to share my thoughts, which isn’t something I usually do. It’s not my favorite, but it sure is unique and entertaining.

I love the different houses and how they interact with each other. I actually wish we learned more about them. We understand the Ninth House, but what is life like on the different houses. I at least liked the little bits I learned about the fourth with the child soldiers. I also like that each necromancer has a different title because each house serves a different function. But seriously, how are you gonna casually write about princesses and give no details about what they do on their planets?

This book has some of the best character development I have ever seen. Especially with Harrow. She and Camilla were my favorites so I’m glad they made it to the end. I also think it’s really funny how there’s all these fantasy names and then there’s Camilla.

I like when Gideon gets more depth too. She went from seeing the fourth as bad teens to trying to protect them. That was one of my favorite parts.

I can’t believe Gideon forgave Harrow. I’m glad she did because I love them, but I have held grudges over much less offenses. I like that Gideon comes off as abrasive at first but the more you learn about her you realize she’s really compassionate. It’s amazing considering the environment she grew up in. Such a great character.

I LOVE the trials. I just love when people slowly figure things out, and this is also when I started understanding necromancy so I was really into the learning. I also appreciated that even though Harrow and Gideon hated each other, they made such a good team and that without trying, Gideon made such a good cavalier.

I often say I like the idea of enemies to lovers and not the common execution of it, but this book embodies that idea perfectly. Gideon and Harrow never become lovers, but the emotional growth they go through and the passion they have for each other kinda represents that feeling. They don’t need to be lovers for this trope to work. This is exactly what I’ve been looking for instead of just an asshole male lead who was never actually going to kill the female lead and they’re both attracted to each other from the start. Nah, these two despised each other and still worked through it. Other authors need to take notes.

The ending was so good. I loved Cytherea flirting with Gideon while fighting her. There’s something about evil characters having a soft spot for a character that is so appealing to me. I’m also an absolute sucker for characters from the far off past existing in the present. Give me this and I will love you forever.

Cytherea is actually a lot like the villain in my wip for the exact reasons I like her. The more I thought about it, the more surprised I was about how much my wip ressembled parts of Gideon the Ninth considering I wrote this stuff before reading the book. The houses are like my clans, the necromancy is similar to the spirits, and both sets of characters are shuttled off to a new location that is full of death. That’s probably like I like this book so much.

Also—the quote “And God said, ‘And I am not enough.’” is one of the best quotes I have ever read. It solely makes up for all the book’s flaws.

So that’s it. I hope Harrow the Ninth is just as good. I get scared to read sequels now because certain sequels are genuinely the worst things I’ve read. I also hope the next book goes more in depth with the worldbuilding. I’m excited to continue this series.

#gideon the ninth #booklover #book review #bookish #books and reading #writer thoughts #reader thoughts #reading rambles #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus

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inbarfink · 1 year ago

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Okay, the thing is that I’ve seen some people speculate about the Winter King’s backstory and past assuming, like, that he’s always kinda been Like That. Like, that this version of Simon Petrikov has always been an evil heartless bastard or at least just a little less caring and loving than Mainworld Simon and that’s what led him down the path of the Winter King.

But speaking personally… I think this is a less compelling story as it relates to Simon’s character arc. I think it’s a lot more interesting if the Winter King was indeed ‘once just like’ Mainverse Simon.

That he used to be that selfless, dedicated and loving man - and he still managed to stoop this low. I mean, well, Simon seems to have come to the conclusion that this version of him was just ‘messed up’

and that was mostly part of a trend of him in these last two episodes just kinda going

You know, like, I don’t think that the lesson he should’ve learned from his adventures in Winterworld is just “wow, that one specific alternative version of me sure does suck!”. Farmworld, via its version of Finn, was a reminder for Simon of just how much of a traumatic experience the Curse of the Magic Crown is. Winterworld should’ve reminded him of the torment and indignity he was trapped in and how often he was a danger to himself and others

And of the truly fucked-up and terrible things he was capable of doing due to that torment and desperation of the Curse.

The Winter King is like a Whole New Exciting Way for Simon to lose his identity due to the Magic Crown, preserving his mind and memory by destroying the love and dedication and care that the Magic Crown never quite managed to fully burn away - his actual ‘immutable essence’. And this doesn’t work if the Winter King was always just Intrinsically a significantly different and worse person than Mainworld Simon, y’know?

And remember, we know the Winter King was in full on Ice King mode when he ‘conquered the crown’ (AKA cast that terrible spell to condemn Princess Bubblegum to the same terrible fate he’s been suffering).

And Mainverse Ice King was absolutely capable of trying to perform some fucked-up mind-altering spells of his own.

The only thing is that he was never quite that successful.

The main thing I am still unsure of with my favored reading/interpretation of how Winterworld Simon became the Winter King is…. There’s like, two different mutually-exclusive readings of what happened after the Curse was cast on Peebles and Simon regained his lucidity that are both very appealing to me from a thematic perspective. And I’m really not sure which one I like best.

Because the real issue was never ‘would Ice King be willing to cast such a horrible immoral spell?’, especially as one could easily imagine that whatever lucidity would allow Ice King to understand how his Crown is harming him and devise such a complicated spell would not necessarily extend to enough lucidity to fully understand the consequences of his actions. The issue is Winterworld Simon Petrikov, having regained his clarity of mind, choosing to maintain this spell for a hundred years. There's a reason why that's the thing Mainverse Simon fixated on when he figured out what's going on.

My first thought (and that’s something I went into more detail in a previous post) was this: Ice King’s madness was never wholly separated from Simon’s personality. Like, yeah, it was the Crown’s Magic that drove him so Mad and Sad - but it was also the trauma of losing Betty and surviving through the Mushroom War and feeling forced to abandon his beloved Marceline.

And that Madness was based on Simon’s psyche. Ice King’s loneliness and romantic obsession and Princess-nappings are all based on how much he loves and misses Betty

And now, Princess Bubblegum has been forced into a mirrored recreation of them.

The Candy Queen isn’t suffering from just the Magic Crown’s madness in general - but specifically from how it was shaped by Simon’s heart. And since you can’t actually separate this manifestation of Ice King’s Madness from Simon’s love for Betty - the Winter King ridding himself of one also rid himself of the other.

And since so much of Ice King’s Madness was interwoven into Simon’s psyche and especially his love and his kindness - throwing away all of this Madness into someone else also decimated these aspects of his personality. Princess Bubblegum already paid the ultimate price for Winterworld Simon’s sanity - but in a way he also paid a grave cost as well; becoming an unrecognizably different person he would previously find morally disgusting - even morso than Ice King.

Because the lines between Simon Petrikov and Ice King are always going to be a bit blurry and messy, and because Simon can’t probably live a life totally free of his Madness and Sadness but he’s gonna have to accept it for an actual mostly happy and sane life as someone who is recognizably Simon Petrikov.

Buuuut… that still basically means that casting of that Curse just kinda irrevocably transformed him into a Heartless Bastard. And that’s maybe not as compelling as if this change from kind and dorky Simon Petrikov into Evil Brian David Gilbert was done of his own free will

Hundreds of years of the Magic Crown eating away at his sanity and memories couldn’t truly destroy Simon Petrikov’s ‘immutable essence’. He still missed Betty more than anything even as this longing was twisted into something horrible, and still loved Marceline like a daughter even if he didn’t understand it. The one thing that could truly destroy this love that is so core to Simon’s being is him choosing to become selfish and cruel and uncaring.

And since he was in Full Ice King Mode when he cast the spell… I dunno if I can actually call it a fully-conscious act of cruelty. Deeply fucked up? Yes. But it’s hard to say how much Winterworld Ice King actually understood what he was doing. And while I think it’s much more emotionally compelling if the Winter King started from the same place as our beloved Mainworld Simon. The only difference can’t just be the pure luck that Mainworld Ice King was just never lucid or focused enough to successfully cast a spell that would transform him into an equally terrible person.

For this angle to work, this decision to continue doing the bad thing has to come from a lucid Simon who is still kinda recognizably Simon and still chose to continue perpetuating the Curse Ice King cast on Princess Bubblegum.

This might seem unthinkable, especially considering how obviously disgusted Mainworld Simon was at the Winter King’s actions. But you have to consider just how much Winterworld Simon would be desperate to not be Ice King again, Mainworld Simon was once willing to die then live the rest of eternity as IK. The fact that he’s so willing to throw away his sanity again now is so worrying because it shows just how badly he’s being doing - because at first, Simon was fighting so badly to avoid diving back into this pit of madness. And that Spell must've seen like the only chance he was gonna get.

And, yes, Simon Petrikov is a character full of kindness and love and selflessness - but that never meant he was the sort of Cinnamon Roll incapable of ever hurting anymore and especially not when he’s desperate or lashing out. That’s kinda the fallacy Simon himself fell into when he had that total identity crisis in the second episode. He just couldn’t find a way to join his previous identity as the patient and fatherly man who took care of Marceline

With the fact he made a little girl cry.

But yes, both we the audience and Simon himself have to face the fact that despite possessing such strong fatherly instinct and a desire to help children - Simon can also lash out in his trauma in a very cruel manner that goes against all of his own values.

And by the end of the fourth episode, he was tempted to let himself die - even though that will also utterly destroy a whole universe of sapient beings living in his head. It was brief thanks to Fionna knocking some sense into him and obviously the Literal Suicidal Depression involved was also seriously clouding his judgement. But that is still Simon nearly dooming a whole realm of other people because he was feeling absolutely desperate.

Not to mention him kidnapping someone and forcing him into a terrible experiment for the sake of trying to summon GOLBetty.

A desperate attempt to reconnect with his lost love (and in a way, a missing part of his identity as Betty Grof’s other half). Which I mean, yeah, ‘it’s just Choose Goose’, but also last time GOLB was summoned it nearly fucked up all of Ooo and the only thing GOLBetty could do about that is get herself as far away from Simon as she can. And now Simon is gonna try and summon his Eldritch GF again in the middle of a major population center.

And of course, Winterworld Simon and Mainworld Simon are never going to be fully exactly the same person because ‘Simon Petrikov’ is not some immutable unchanging concept and we know that they’ve had different experiences. It was really so sweet to see Mainverse Simon pay forwards the kindness he’s gotten from his loved ones when he was stuck as the Ice King towards the Candy Queen

But it also reminded me that the Winter King himself never got that sort of kindness and grace in the first place. The Curse was cast one hundred years ago. Back then, Marceline was still avoiding him because she couldn’t stand to see what he had become, Finn and Jake were not his friends on account of neither of them being born yet and… they also directly or indirectly helped him get his entire rest circle of friends.

So Mainworld Simon emerged from an Ice King who was not absolutely free from misery and loneliness… but has also experienced happiness and friends both from people who just loved him for who he was at the moment

And grace and kindness from those concerned for his condition and honestly doing their best to make sure he’s doing his best in his current state and trying to bring out whatever of Simon was left in him.

While Winterworld Simon emerged from Ice King at his worst and his most miserable.

And while the Winter King’s callousness about Betty would kinda always be a worrying testament to how much Simonness he has lost - it is extra disturbing for the viewers and Mainworld Simon because they have seen Betty sacrifice her entire being for his sake. That would just reinforce his own love and dedication to her in his mind… not always in the healthiest of ways.

But the Winter King has experienced nothing of that sort. He was not freed in a self-sacrifice fueled by love that literally defied time itself. Wintdrworld Simon only regained his lucidity because of a deeply fucked up and selfish action he has taken as the Ice King. And as far as he knew, that was his only choice except death or the eternal despair of being the Ice King.

And so maybe Winterworld Simon managed to convince himself that he can stay like this for just one day. Just one day of enjoying both lucidity and Magic and then he’s going to undo it because obviously he knows that it’s terrible what the Ice King did! I mean, yeah, Princess Bubblegum and the rest of the Candy Kingdom are suffering but they’re also going to suffer when the Ice King comes back so it’s really a lateral move for them. For just one day!

And then by the next day, Winterworld Simon finds one more excuse why he can wait until tomorrow to bring everything back to normal. And day by day it becomes just a little bit easier to justify perpetuating something so terrible. Day by day he gives up a little bit more of his morals and his selflessness and his love. Until he finally finds out that he just doesn’t care anymore about being a selfish heartless bastard.

The same way the Magic Crown took his sanity and identity gradually - he’s now so desperate to cling to them that he chose to tear away at what was once the core most parts of himself

Until he became just as unrecognizable.

Both of these ideas are really compelling to me but they’re also kinda opposite. Maybe there’s a way to balance them both in a way that preserves what makes them so interesting for Simon’s character in the first place??

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communistkenobi · 1 year ago

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i know next to nothing about queer theory, but i did exist online during (what felt like) huge exclusionary periods (ace discourse, bi/pan discourse, and transmedicalism were the big ones i remember)

i wonder if the first drive for sexuality being something unchangeable and intrinsic to you had something to do with those things, that queerness was fixed and definable, which meant that there were strict lines to be drawn about who was and wasn't gay/lesbian/bi which was only made worse by trans and nonbinary people who didn't exactly fit the previous molds

ill be doubly honest and say i only interacted w/ the community online at the time bc living in a homophobic country doesnt give you a lot of opportunities to meet up in person which means my view of the whole thing is skewed. im not sure if this makes any sense

What I’m about to say isn’t a diagnosis of the causes behind those discourses (partly because i don’t think there is a single reason animating those arguments), but like I guess in general a very baseline authority people fall back on is biology. Dominant reactionary discourses describe being gay trans etc as a lifestyle choice, as an active decision to participate in sexual and gendered degeneracy, and so a very appealing counter-claim to make is to point to biology - we are born this way, we can’t help who we are just as cishet people cannot help who they are, so you should accept us because we can’t change our identity. That rhetorical strategy requires/assumes a stable sexual and gendered ontology, a primary authority of the body that can’t be altered. While I believe this argument is fundamentally flawed, I think this is a straightforwardly easy argument to make re: sexual orientation. With trans and non-binary people this is more difficult because the foundational claim to our existence is that gender is mutable, is alterable, is subject to change (and also “I’ve felt this way since I was a child” is a pathological model of gender dysphoria that is enforced through medical and psychiatric institutions, not a reflection of lived reality for many, many trans and non-binary people). That doesn’t necessarily mean being transgender is a “choice” (although if someone said they woke up one day and chose to be transgender then that is a perfectly authentic justification), especially because “choice” in these discussions is often framed as individualised, private, detached from the social world - we are all just free agents making rational autonomous decisions in a field of equally rational choices, etc. which I think is a very impoverished way to understand choice and agency. Gender is an institution, it is a set of behaviours and performances that we choose to engage in in many different ways, and my use of the word ‘choice’ there does not imply these choices are free from coercion, violence, or harm. I chose to transition, I chose to engage in performances and behaviours that signal to the social world that I am a man - where that desire to make those choices arises from is another matter, and honestly not one I’m super interested in figuring out. Like if I discovered the ‘origin’ of my transness it wouldn’t make any difference to me. Similarly, how I choose to signal masculinity is very obviously bound up in dominant gendered assumptions. Trans people get accused of upholding gendered norms a lot, but that’s only because we aren’t taken seriously unless we do so! It is a survival mechanism that allows us to better navigate incredible amounts of violence and social exclusion, and arguing that our desire to do gender with our bodies comes from some grade-school assumption that dress = woman and pants = man or whatever is pure projection on the part of cis people. cis men think if they drink pink wine they’ll become gay - trans people are not the ones enforcing these norms here.

Getting a bit far afield here, so to loop back around - I think a stable state of sexual and gendered subjectivity or “being” is very appealing to a lot of people because it’s a way to dismiss reactionary fears and to justify to yourself that your oppression is entirely out of your control (which is true obviously!). Again I think these arguments are flawed because they buy into cisgendered and heteronormative ideas about gender and sexuality, that it is a biological burden imposed on us, that deviance is not a choice, that gender is done to us as opposed to being gendered agents, that we are similarly trapped in a sexual prison and should be accepted on those grounds, etc, but they have massive rhetorical power.

As I’ve said before I’m a pretty staunch believer in Butler’s assertion that it is social all the way down, that gender is not discoverable in the body but rather the body is the medium through which gender is done in the world. Cis people choose to do gender just as much as trans people do! The only difference is that institutional architecture is set up to facilitate and make invisible (in very misogynistic and racist ways) those gendered practices. I think the stronger counter argument to make is that cis- and het-normativities are deeply violent and miserable status quos that need to be dismantled and discarded, that true choice can only emerge vis a vis gender and sexuality once those institutions are abolished, and that choice is actually a desirable end-goal - I want people to be able to participate in gender and sexuality as free agents, as non-coercive practices that are sites of great joy and wonder and pleasure. And this world is only possible if we accept that there is no gendered or sexual ontology, that it is all smoke and mirrors, that this current system’s primary function is to reproduce the nuclear family, to maintain the hereditary nature of class and wealth and race, to provide a standardised system of labour division, to maintain a distinction between the public and private labour realms, and so on.

So again like, is this what animates discourses about who gets to be counted as lgbtq/queer/whichever label you want to use? I don’t know. Probably some of it has to do with that. Queerness is in party a pathological category that is used to describe a failure to meaningfully reproduce cishet norms and practices, it is a set of relationships you have to legal and political and medical and administrative institutions (which is especially true for trans/non binary people). I like this definition because built into it is the possibility of change - I do not want trans people to be assimilated into cishet society, I want society to become transgender, thereby making transgender an irrelevant medical and legal category of person. Much like communism aims to abolish class by universalising the proletariat, I want to abolish gender by universalising the legal and political and medical mechanisms of transition. Only then will cisgenderism be abolished.

One thing I have been thinking a lot about is something a friend said to me, which is that human rights to do not begin with a definition of human - in the same way, I think trans rights do not require a definition of transgenderism. Just universalise and de-pathologise the mechanisms through which transition is expressed. Make it easy to change your name, remove all barriers to hormones and surgery, make everyone economically secure enough that they can change their wardrobe however they please, desegregate all gendered spaces, de-gender clothing, remove gender markers from all documents, and so on and so on. Doing so would make both cisgender and transgender an irrelevant legal and political category and, again, allow choice to emerge as a meaningful mechanism of gender expression.

This isn’t a comprehensive policy platform, there are many things I’m sure I haven’t thought through and a large portion of this discussion has to contend with the colonial and white supremacist nature of the western binary gender (bringing us into discussions of decolonial efforts, socialist efforts, and so on), but this is already getting long and I feel like I’m rambling. But like fundamentally I believe in a radical political imaginary that argues that all of this is subject to change and therefore any arguments about an essential gendered or sexual being is, at the end of the day, a reactionary description of gender and sexuality

#asks #even old new york was once new amsterdam #effortpost #um. hope that makes sense lol #DO NOT START ARGUING ABOUT THIS IN THE NOTES BTW. FUCK OFF I AM NOT DOING ‘DISCOURSE’ ABOUT WHO COUNTS AS LGBTQ #I reject the premise of the question genuinely I think it is fundamentally irrelevant to our liberation

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wheredafandomat · 2 years ago

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The Royal Ruse 👑

Prince! Loki x Asgardian reader

18+ | this fic contains angst, eventual smut, probably some bad language, little bit of a slow burn?

Chapter 1 Next

“Well then I’ll marry.” Loki declared, almost triumphantly as if he had just solved the biggest problem known to the kingdom of Asgard.

“Loki, you can’t be serious.”

“I am” he insisted, pausing his pacing “if marriage is what it takes to get the throne then I am to wed.” Loki stated.

“And who will you marry?”

“There are a few ladies in which I am courting, I’ll simply marry one of them and then take my rightful title as King of Asgard.” He began to grin.

“And who’s to say any of these maidens will agree to marry you?”

“The promise of a throne” Loki shrugged as if the answer was simple and obvious “I myself wouldn’t even turn that down and I’m already a prince” he scoffed “I’m sure any of them would be delighted to marry me. They could even been Queen consort for a few decades and then perhaps they’ll get bored and then leave or if not, perhaps an accident befalls them and—”

“Loki!” He was cut off.

“Remind me, why am I even talking to you.” Loki sighed, annoyed by the interruption.

“Because I’m the only person you trust.”

“That’s right.” Loki agreed, turning towards the clone of himself he had deployed to reason with.

“What you need to do is find someone who will be willing to pretend to be in love with you up until a wedding occurs where they will then disappear leaving you crowned King of Asgard.” It plotted.

“You’re right” Loki smiled “I’ll find some sort of hopeless maiden and promise her some golden coins or something in return for her hand in marriage.” Loki declared.

The following day, Loki decided to go on a walk to clear his head. Like most walks, this one consisted of visiting the more lowly parts of Asgard where the peasants and working folk resided meaning hearty mead and the occasional leg up in the back of the brewery. Loki often imagined the look on his fathers face if he ever discovered that he frequented such a dingy place, risking the integrity of the palace and all its occupants; it made the whole clandestine visit that more appealing, that more desired. He walked through one of the alleyways, picturing Odin’s face before he felt a weight crash against his chest followed by a yelp.

“Watch where you’re going.” He instantly spoke, assuming the figure standing to their feet was a drunkard.

“Likewise.” You scoffed, pushing his steadying hand on your forearm away. Once you were on your feet, firmly rooted onto the ground, you looked up at your attacker, narrowing your gaze. “I feel like I’m supposed to know who you are.” You challenged suspiciously.

“I guess I just have one of those faces.” Loki excused.

“No” you began, grabbing his chin as you inspected him “you look familiar, really familiar.” You continued, the man pulling away from your touch.

“Unhand me deprived wench.” He scorned, stepping backwards causing you to gasp as it hit you.

“You’re the pri—”

“Shhh.” He silenced you, covering your mouth with his hand. “You know not what you speak of. Why would a prince be somewhere as unpleasant as here?” He queried.

“You know, Thor sometimes comes here.” You replied.

“He does?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

“Well I’ll be sure to—”

“Ha!” You beamed “you are Loki.”

“Fine” he relented “but don’t breathe a word of my being here to anyone.” He warned menacingly.

“Okay.” You shrugged just as Loki began reaching into his pocket. “A-are you trying to buy my silence?” You asked, watching him rummaging through his pocket.

“Yes, how much will it cost?” He asked.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, besides, who’d believe me, I’m just a deprived wench.” You huffed.

“Sorry.” Loki apologised.

“Anyways, I’m just on my way home so if you’d excuse me.” You dismissed.

“Of course.” Loki spoke, moving out of your way, his eyes rounding when he realised you were going into the little door that was behind him. “This is where you live?” He questioned almost aghast.

“No, there’s a magical portal inside that transports me to one of the rooms in the palace” you answered sarcastically “yes, this is where I live.”

“It’s tiny.” Loki noted, stepping towards the door and looking inside.

“You’re insulting me again.” You remarked.

“Sorry.” He apologised again.

“I would offer you something to eat but no.” You decided, walking further inside and leaving the door open.

“No?” Loki spoke, raising an eyebrow as he cautiously took your nonverbal invitation and stepped inside.

“No.” You nodded.

“No what?” He replied, recognising the pictures in the callander on your wall; they were all of the palace.

“No, I don’t want to offer you something to eat.” You explained.

“Well I’m not hungry.” Loki argued.

“Good, because I wasn’t offering.” You replied.

“Fine.”

“Fine.” You finished, Loki unmoving as he subtly glanced around your place, eyes lingering on the pictures of the palace you had stuck to the walls. It felt surreal having one of the actual princes stood in your room but you put the whole experience down to having too much mead. You decided to further test this delusion and continue the conversation. “Well unless you’re going to offer me a seat at the royal dining table or an audience with the queen, I suggest you leave.” You broke the silence causing Loki to snap out of his staring competition with the picture of the palace that showed part of his room as he remembered his dilemma.

“And what would you be willing to do for a seat at the royal dining table?” He questioned, smirking making your eyes round in realisation.

“Not that!” You gasped.

“It would only be until I am crowned king.” He tried to explain.

“You want me to sleep with you until you’re a king? What the fu—”

“I think we’re thinking of two different things” Loki interrupted leaving you confused “tell me ummm—what’s your name?”

“Y/n.” You answered.

“Lovely” he clapped “tell me y/n, are you married?”

“No.” You almost laughed, you weren’t even courting anyone.

“Good.” Loki smiled.

“Why is that good?” You questioned defensively.

“I’ve got a proposition for you y/n, let’s discuss this over wine.”

“You’ve got wine?”

“I assumed you did.” He replied, brows knitting.

“I’ve got wine, my wine, you can have water.” You disagreed with him, no longer sure whether this was real or fiction conjured up by your besotted mind. He looked real enough, smelt regal enough.

“And why can’t I have any wine?” He asked incredulously.

“It’s my wine, I don’t see you bringing me any wine. It’s expensive you know, I can’t just waste my wine.” You tried to explain to him.

“Y/n, I am a prince.” Loki reasoned.

“Exactly, you should have bought wine.”

“Well I’ll make sure I remember it for the next time I bump into a stranger in the street.” He puffed, taking a seat as well as the glass of water you were offering him before he began to divulge his proposal.

You listened intensely to his plan, the realisation that he wasn’t a mirage making you a little giddy as you downed your drink, nodding along to words.

“I’ve got one question.” You spoke once he was finished.

“Anything.” He nodded.

“Are you insane?” You asked causing him to sigh. “I mean how would we even do it? We don’t even know eachother.”

“I can easily remedy that.” He assured.

“And pray tell prince, what’s your smart idea?”

“I can create a link between us, it’ll give me access to—” he began, placing his fingers against your temples as you moved your head away “you’ve got to trust me.”

“Well I don’t.” You affirmed.

“What reason other than what I just said would I want to do this with you?” He sneered.

“Fine.” You answered, rolling your eyes before he continued.

“As I was saying, I could create a psychic link between us which would enable us to send thoughts to one another.” He elaborated.

“And why would we need to do that?”

“Because when my mother asks, which she will, things about yourself, my future wife, it’d be good if I could actually answer. Vice versa” he clarified “you’ve got to know a little about me.”

“I know two things” you grinned “arrogant, prince.”

“Behave” he cautioned “so y/n, for the promise of a fortune, would you play the part of my doting betrothed?” He asked, looking into your eyes.

“Yes.” You replied with a small nod, unsure of what you were actually getting yourself into.

Loki on his way to kingdom 😂 as always whenever I start a new fic, let me know if you wanna see more or if I should start a diff story

Tags:

@lokiprompts @mischief2sarawr @lulubelle814 @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @eyesbluelikethetitanic @vickie5446 @mcufan72 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @xorpsbane @sailorholly @anukulee @yukio369

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#oc fiction #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki of asgard #prince loki x reader #loki au fics #loki au #loki laufeyson x female reader #loki x asgardian reader

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agaypanic · 1 year ago

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request: ok hear me out!! touchy!reader is the new girl at whitechapel and everyone just kinda gravitates towards her but somehow the main friend group (rory, erica, ethan ect) basically adopt her into the friend group unbeknownst to them Benny has a HUGE crush on her and often sulks while hanging out with them because of how touchy she is with everyone else,, then they figure out theyre just both 2 idiots in love!!! bonus points if she’s secretly a vampire too!! (not touchy in a weird way physical touch is just her love language btw) I love your work smmmm btw :D

Looking For Affection (Benny Weir X Vampire!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: The gang makes friends with the new girl at school, who turns out to be a vampire that likes being affectionate with her friends. Benny gets pouty because his crush seems to be touchy with everyone except him.

A/N: this idea is so cute!! Benny would def sulk and be whiny about it and the gang would have to be like “bro get it together” lol i cant remember if full fledged vampires can drink animal blood or only human blood, so for the sake of the story full fledged vampires can drink animal blood, also warning for eating/drinking an animal ig…

***

Being the new girl was always hard. You didn’t know anyone, you didn’t know where half of your classes were. Hell, you weren’t half convinced you could find your way home. You were dropped off at your first period and basically left to fend for yourself. Then you had to force your way through an icebreaker while everyone stared at you, and when you sat down, you realized you had no idea what was going on because everyone had been doing this for weeks while it was your first day.

So yeah, being the new girl sucked. But it was ten times worse when you had to try to push down the deep insatiable thirst for the blood of the kid sitting next to you.

“Before you all pack up, listen to me really quick.” The teacher said as she concluded the lesson. Everyone groaned but waited for her to continue. “I want someone to show Y/n around the school and help her find her classes. Would anybody like the volunteer?”

Surprisingly to your teacher, practically everyone’s hand shot up. It wasn’t too surprising to you, though. For some reason, the transformation made vampires very appealing to people. It got on your nerves on the days that you just wanted to lay low.

“Wow. Okay…” Your teacher looked at all the hands and then at you. “Y/n, how about you pick?”

You looked around the room. You had to be strategic about this. Someone who wasn’t too excited to be around you but wouldn’t abandon you before the end of the school day. It would also be a plus if you didn’t have an insane urge to suck them dry like a juice box.

You pointed at a girl that sat on the other side of the room, closer to the back.

“If you don’t mind?” She grinned at you.

“Sure!” The bell rang, and everyone left to go to their next class. You and the girl walked out together. “I’m Sarah, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.” Sarah took hold of your backpack, helping to guide you through the crowded hallway. When she took you to your second period, she stopped you from going through the door.

“I’ll come back after class to take you to your other ones. Since I’m like, your guide, I guess, do you wanna sit with me and my friends at lunch? They’re a little weird, but I swear they’re nice.”

This was going better than you expected. Someone nice was helping you find your way around, and you didn’t have to go through the new kid struggle of trying to find somewhere to sit at lunch.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

***

Before you knew it, third period was over, and Sarah was walking you to the cafeteria. You insisted that you weren’t hungry, so she took you straight to her table. Only one other girl was sitting there.

“The boys will come soon; they’re getting food,” Sarah told you before gesturing to the blonde. “This is Erica. Erica, this is Y/n; she’s new.”

“Hi.” You said a bit nervously. Erica gave an intimidating smile, looking you up and down.

“Hey.”

“Who’s this?” A new voice asked. You turned to see three boys looking down at you with curiosity. You stared back, waiting for Sarah to introduce everyone as they sat down.

“She’s the new girl, her name’s Y/n.” Sarah smiled at you before gesturing to each of the boys. “Y/n, this is Rory, Ethan, and Benny.”

“New girl, huh?” Benny asked from his seat next to you. Even sitting, he had to look down to make eye contact with you.

“Yeah.” He seemed to smile at your slight nervousness.

“How’s your day going so far?”

“Pretty okay. Kind of waiting for it to be over.” You tried to not get flustered when he laughed.

“Yeah, that’s fair. What do you have after this?” You reached into your pocket and pulled out your schedule. Benny looked it over, and his grin widened. “Oh nice, we have English together.” This made you excited for some reason. Maybe it was because you now have another friend (hopefully) to hang out with in class. The fact that, upon closer inspection, you realized Benny was kind of cute might have also been a factor.

“Y/n, if you don’t mind, maybe Benny could take you to your classes for the rest of the day?” Sarah suggested.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” You looked at Benny. “I mean, if you don’t mind, obviously.”

“Of course. We’re your buddies now.” You mirrored his grin. It was your first day, and by lunchtime, you had made five new friends. This was easier than you thought.

***

It had been a week since your first day at Whitechapel, and things were going great. You had Sarah in your first period, Benny in fourth, and Rory in fifth. None of your new friends seem to wonder why you never ate during lunch. In fact, Benny and Ethan were the only ones who came to the table with food. Despite harboring such a big secret, you felt so normal.

Today, Ethan invited everyone to come over to his house after school. The group got excited, but you became anxious. You always ate when you came home after school, and you don’t think your new friends would appreciate a detour from Ethan’s house so you could juice an animal. Luckily, you lied and said you’d have to talk to your parents first, and they believed you.

When school was over, you raced home. You had to wait for the streets to clear of students going home so you could hunt. There wasn’t much to do in town in terms of hanging out, so soon, you were free to roam. The park was your best bet. You could easily catch a squirrel or a bird.

You had a squirrel in your sight when your phone buzzed. You pulled it out slowly, not wanting to startle your prey.

Sarah

hey! we’re picking up a pizza for tonight. if you want, we can swing by your place on the way back to Ethan’s

You quickly typed a response. You didn’t want to miss out on your dinner or worry Sarah by not responding quick enough.

Y/n

sounds great! see you soon :)

Sarah

Looks like you were having fast food tonight. You quickly nabbed the squirrel, making it drop the nut it was looking over. You didn’t like thinking too much about what you had to do to eat, so you closed your eyes and sunk your teeth in. God, it was so good. You had been starving all day.

You were lucky the sun was setting. You don’t know what you’d do if anyone saw you right now.

“Y/n?” You froze in your crouched position. The voice terrified you. You didn’t want to look up, focusing on the five pairs of shoes just feet away from you. This could not be happening. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” You answered quickly, hiding your food behind your back as you stood up. Pursing your lips, mainly to keep your bloody fangs hidden, you looked at your friends. They seemed either concerned or confused. “What, uh, what are you guys doing here?”

“We were coming to get you,” Benny answered.

“Oh! Well, here I am.” You smiled awkwardly at the group.

“What’s behind your back?” Erica asked, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, Y/n. You can tell us.” Sarah stepped forward, trying to coax you into telling them. She stopped herself from taking another step, staring at your face. “Y/n, is that blood?”

You swiftly used your sleeve to wipe your mouth, trying to get rid of any evidence of what you were doing. But during your panic, you forgot you still had a hold on your food, allowing everyone to see it. They all gasped, looking at you with strange looks.

“Fuck!” You squeaked. You gently set the squirrel down and looked at your friends. “Guys, I know it looks bad. But I-”

“Were you eating that?” Ethan asked.

“Of course, she was eating it. What else do you think she was doing?” Erica asked, rolling her eyes.

“You guys are freaking her out more; look at her!” Benny scolded, and he was right. Tears started to fill your eyes. There was no way you could talk your way out of this situation. You’d have to leave town, and you just got here. Things were going so well, and you messed it all up by not being careful enough.

“Guys!” You didn’t mean to yell, but it felt like you had no control over anything anymore. They all looked at you, startled by your outburst but waiting for you to continue. You took a deep breath to swallow your nerves and tears, but it didn’t help much. “I… I’m not bad, I swear. If I was able to change, I would. But I can’t. If you don’t wanna be friends with me anymore, believe me, I get it. But I’m fucking begging you, don’t tell anyone about this. Please. I don’t know what I’d do if-” Your speech was cut short by shock. Sarah had launched herself at you, taking you in her arms to hug you. Rory and Erica joined her, while Ethan and Benny gave you small smiles. “What are you doing?” You whispered.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” Sarah said, hugging you tighter.

“Yeah, don’t sweat it,” Erica added, rubbing your back. “Everyone gets caught eating an animal at least once.”

“What are you talking about?” You were definitely confused. There was no way they were saying what you thought they were saying.

Rory grabbed you by the shoulders, taking you out of Sarah’s embrace so you could look at all three of them.

“Welcome to the club, dude!” After an exchange of glances, Sarah, Rory, and Erica grinned at you. But they weren’t normal grins. Their canines were larger and longer, just like yours. It all made sense now. Why they never ate during lunch, or stayed in the shade whenever possible, or sometimes had an orange-yellowish tint to their eye when they seemed a bit more emotional.

Tears kept coming, but your smile mirrored the vampires in front of you, albeit a bit bloodier. You lunged at them, bringing them into another hug. Relief washed over you, and even more when Benny and Ethan joined the group’s embrace.

You were so happy that you didn’t have to hold back from giving your friends affection anymore. Before you were turned, you were very touchy with your friends. Not in a weird way; it was just the way you showed that you loved them. But after getting your fangs, you were more hesitant, the fear of hurting someone you cared about making you reluctant. But now that most of your friends didn’t even have blood for you to sense, you didn’t have to hold back anymore.

“Wait.” You loosened your hold, taking your head off of Sarah’s shoulder to look at the boys. “What are you guys then? Are you just humans?”

“Not exactly.” Ethan smiled, somewhat awkwardly. You were convinced it was the only smile he could make. “I’m a seer. I get visions when I touch things or people.” You nodded before looking at Benny.

“And you?”

“Spellmaster.” Benny held his hand up to your view and magically produced a tissue, using it to wipe away the panic and joy-induced tears. “At your service.”

***

Discovering each others’ supernatural identities brought you closer to the gang. Before Whitechapel, you didn’t know any other vampires except for the one that had turned you. You could finally talk about the stuff that you struggled with without feeling weird about it; the cravings, being wary about making friends because what if they found out or you lost control, being hyper-aware of all the mirror’s in your house so your parents didn’t wonder why you didn’t have a reflection.

But getting closer to the gang meant getting closer to Benny. You quickly learned that that was both a curse and a blessing.

Benny was so sweet, and funny, and caring. Always interested in how you were doing and ensuring you were included in group plans. It was a big plus that he was very pretty as well.

One day in English, you two were reading together for an assignment. Benny turned the page, but wasn’t careful enough. He sliced the tip of his finger, and the scent hit you like a truck. It smelled so good, it scared you. Instead of being concerned, you stared at his wound when he hissed at the pain.

“Sorry.” He said, licking the blood off. You stood from your seat abruptly, running out to the bathroom. You knew Benny would understand, but you still felt bad.

It was bad enough that you now had a crush on one of your best friends. But smelling his blood, his delicious blood, made Benny seem even more insatiable.

To fix this little problem of yours, you decided to keep your distance for a while. That would be hard because you were together almost every single day. So you just made minor, subtle changes in your routine. You started sitting on the opposite side of the lunch table from him. When walking somewhere, you walked with anyone besides Benny. At Ethan’s, you’d sit in an armchair by yourself so he couldn’t sit near you.

It hurt you, and you felt terrible, but it was for the best. Besides, how could a mortal be with a vampire?

Tonight was one of those usual nights where Ethan’s parents were out doing something, so he invited you all to watch some movies.

Erica and Sarah nabbed the two armchairs in the living room, so you had to sit on the couch. You could sit on the floor, but you didn’t want to be uncomfortable. You burrowed yourself into one of the corners, wrapped up in a blanket. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Benny eyeing you. He sat down in the middle of the couch, a respectable distance from you but still close. You wanted so badly to be near him.

“Start the movie, Ethan! What are you waiting for?” Rory asked, dropping himself on the couch between you and Benny. The tension, whether real or imaginary, disappeared, and Ethan pressed play. You leaned against Rory, using him as a pillow as you tried to watch. But all you could think about was Benny and the little pout on his lips.

When the movie ended, you unraveled yourself from your blanket cocoon and Rory’s limbs and excused yourself. You went to the bathroom to splash water on your face. Even though vampires didn’t really sleep, you felt so tired.

Face wet, you grabbed a towel to dry yourself off. When you were done, you looked up and became surprised at the lack of reflection in the mirror. No matter how long you’d be a vampire, you’d never get used to that.

“What’s going on with Y/n?” Your ears picked up on Benny’s voice in the living room.

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.

“Why is she touchy with you guys?” He sounded sad, and kind of offended.

“That’s just how she is, B. You know that. It’s how she shows she likes you.” Ethan said, sounding done with the conversation that had only just started.

“I like that she’s all cuddly,” Rory said. “She’s really warm for a vampire.”

“Then why isn’t she like that with me?” Benny asked.

“Maybe you did something to piss her off.” You could practically hear the smirk from Erica.

“I don’t think I did.” Benny paused, probably to look back on your interactions with him. But he seemed to come up with nothing. To be fair, he didn’t really do anything. “It’s like she’s avoiding me.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked Y/n, Benny.” Sarah laughed at him. Ethan groaned.

“Don’t get me started; he won’t shut up about her.”

“Shut up, E!” Having enough of this conversation, you threw the towel in the hamper and went to the living room. Everyone looked at you as if they had seen a ghost. Pursing your lips, you decided to pretend you didn’t hear anything.

“What did I miss?” You asked, grabbing your blanket.

“Nothing,” Benny answered quickly, cheeks pink. You were about to sit down when Rory moved to your spot. He just smiled up at you, gesturing for you to take the place that he sat in.

The place that would sandwich you between him and Benny. It was better to go along with it than argue, so you reluctantly sat down, wrapping the blanket around you once again. Benny felt stiff beside you, and soon another movie played.

Did Benny actually like you? Your friends talked about it like he did, but it wasn’t necessarily confirmed. His reaction to them talking about his potential feelings for you could have been a tell, but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

You became so suddenly aware of Benny beside you. It was like he was trying to keep himself compact, arms close to his body and long legs crossed out in front of you. It seemed like he didn’t want to be near you.

Or maybe he felt like you didn’t want to be near him. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

You felt so terrible. All this time, you were telling yourself that the distance was good for the both of you. That he wouldn’t notice, and if he did, he wouldn’t care because it’s not like he liked you in such a way that he’d be sad that you gave him less affection than you gave your other friends.

Maybe you were overreacting. Maybe you were scared of getting close to Benny, scared of what could happen if you were close to someone you were so infatuated with but also had such a thirst for.

But you supposed it couldn’t hurt to try.

Your movements were small, barely noticeable. Your hand inched its way to his. Eventually, the back of your hands touched. Benny took a deep breath from the contact, glancing down at you. But you kept your eyes on the screen.

Benny’s hand slowly moved over yours, feeling hesitant. He kept moving until, eventually, you were holding hands. It felt nice. You wanted to kick yourself for acting the way you did. Your body fell lightly on his, sides pressed against each other.

You stayed like that the rest of the night. You didn’t want to move away, not wanting to lose the chance of being close to the boy you liked so much after distancing yourself for so long. When the last movie was over, Benny seemed happier than before, a smile decorating his features.

But all good things come to an end. You had to go home, so you let go of Benny’s hand and stood up, throwing the blanket onto Rory, who gladly accepted it.

“Okay, I gotta head out.” Everyone stood up to hug you goodbye, Benny being the last one. You hoped no one noticed that you clung to him longer.

“I can walk you home.” He suggested when you pulled away.

“B, I thought you were sleeping over,” Ethan said, looking at his best friend, confused. Benny waved him off.

“Nah, I got some stuff to do. Besides, I don’t want her walking alone at night.”

“You do know Y/n is a bigger threat than any mugger, right?” Erica asked with a raised brow. Benny just ignored her, looking down at you hopefully.

“What do you say, Y/n?” You should say no. You didn’t want Benny walking home alone this late. But as always, he was being so sweet.

“Sure.” He quickly gathered his things, and with one last goodbye, you were out the door. You mainly walked in silence, but that was broken about halfway through your walk.

“Can I ask you something?” Benny asked, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.

“You just did.” He laughed sarcastically and nudged you with his shoulder, making you stumble. “Damn, okay. What is it?” Benny blew a loose hair out of his face, looking nervous.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” You stopped walking, shocked by the question. But you should’ve seen this coming. “Come on, Y/n. What did I do?”

You suddenly became overwhelmed with guilt. Benny thought that he had done something wrong when in reality, you were just a coward.

“You didn’t do anything, Benny.” You said quietly, kicking rocks.

“Then what happened?” Benny grabbed your shoulders, getting you to look at him. “Please, Y/n. It’s like I’m the plague or something to you.”

You mumbled a response, and he didn’t catch onto it. He sighed.

“Y/n, speak up.”

“I like you.” Your voice was weak, and you felt like you wanted to cry. Benny looked taken aback, still holding you by the shoulders.

“What?”

“I like you, Benny. Like, have feelings for you. But I had to stay away from you.”

“Why?” Benny asked, exasperated.

“Because how the fuck can I be around you when I’m busy worrying about whether or not I’m gonna suck your blood?”

Benny stared at you, eyes wide with surprise. That didn’t make any sense to him. According to other vampires, Ethan had even better blood than Benny, and you were just fine around him.

“It smells so good, Benny.” You said fearfully. “That day you cut your finger, your blood smelled so, so good. And it really scared me, because what if I get too close to you and I lose control? What if I try to hug you or something, and I hurt you? What if-“

Your ramble was cut off by Benny wrapping his arms around you, practically slamming you into his chest. You hugged him close to you, as tight as possible without crushing him.

“You won’t lose control,” Benny said into your hair.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do. You’re not hurting me right now.” He was right. You weren’t digging your nails or fangs into him. You were calm.

“But what if-“

“No ‘what if’s.” Benny interrupted you again. “You like me, right?” That seemed like a silly question; you had just confessed that you liked him a few minutes ago.

“Yeah…”

“Great! Because I like you too.” Benny grinned down at you, all bundled up in his arms. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.” There seemed to be no room for argument; deep down, you didn’t even want to argue against it.

“Okay.” You pressed your forehead to his chest. “I’m sorry for basically ignoring you.”

“It’s okay.” Benny kissed the side of your head, rubbing your back. “You were just scared.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Benny gently pulled your arms off of him, hand trailing down to interlock with yours. He started to walk, tugging you with him. “Come on, I gotta get you home.”

“I could speed us there.” You suggested. Benny shook his head, smiling down at you.

“Nah. Wanna spend as much time with you as possible.”

#benny weir x reader #benny weir #my babysitter's a vampire #my babysitter's a vampire x reader #agaypanic

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hae-yeon · 13 days ago

Text

335.The Second & The Third (4)

두 번째, 세 번째 (4)

I was sipping from a coconut that Hyuna-ssi had oh-so-kindly inserted a straw into, when Myungwoo arrived. What exactly spurred people to drink such a thing, I wondered. There were snacks that included coconut meat that were tasty enough, sure, but I couldn’t really wrap my head around the appeal of the water.

“Myungwoo-yah~”

I greeted him with a bright smile. It was harder to grow angry at someone who was smiling at you, right. Myungwoo placed a box of beverages he’d brought with him on top of the table.

“I said that you didn’t have to bring anything, y’know.”

“How could I possibly show up empty-handed, though. How’s your body doing?”

“Right as rain! But really, I’m doing fine. There hasn’t been anything out of sorts, and I’m all set to check out by tomorrow.”

I reiterated, making sure to put emphasis on things being a-okay. I’d just have to explain away the wound on my back by saying that it was an accidental injury from before, that had ended up lingering because I’d been recommended against using any potions or healing Skills on it.

“Sorry to call you away like this, I’m sure you must be awfully busy right now.”

“I don’t mind coming to check in on you whenever you need–I just wish it wasn’t for a hospital visit, like this.”

There was a hint of steel beneath those words, even as he said them with a smile. Just then, Eunhae suddenly materialized and made a beeline towards Myungwoo. It began chirping busily at him, apparently airing its grievances.

“...you wouldn’t happen to be able to understand it, can you?”

“No. But I can understand well enough to figure that you went and pulled another stunt of some sort, Yoojin-ah.”

“It’s, that’s right! The reason Eunhae is upset must be because it’s had a fight with Rinie!”

“‘Rinie’? The Fire elemental?”

I quickly nodded my head.

“Um, yeah, the two of them fought, y’see. They never got along from teh start, though. The phrase Eunhae says the most is ‘bad lizard,’ right.”

“That so? I wonder why. It didn’t seem to have any issues getting along with Ismoire.”

“Irin and Ismoire seem to be pretty different. Ismoire is fairly composed, for one.”

“He’s not always like that. He sulks and has tantrums more often than you’d think. I wonder if it’s maybe a maturity difference. I’m Ismoire’s second owner, after all.”

“His original owner was Shalos-ssi, right? Have you heard any info about that person, perchance?”

A Transcendent who had been capable of creating something like the Golden Forge realm, and then tie it to a Skill like that; it didn’t seem like they would’ve been an ordinary master artisan, for certain.

“I’ve heard a lot regarding the kind of things they crafted, mostly. Apparently, he’s heard of the Devouring Sovereign’s Sword(1), too.”

“What? Really? What did he say?”

“That, as far as swordsmithing goes, the person who forged it can be considered the most skilled among them. It’s real high praise coming from Ismoire, who exalts the Creator with his every breath, so I thought that this person in question must be an incredible individual after all. But on that note–the SSS-rank magic stone you gave me before, were you still intending to make it into a sword?”

“Why?”

“Since you’re planning on gifting it to your dongsaeng, right. But since he’s got the Sovereign’s Sword now, I was wondering if we shouldn’t turn it into a different type of weapon instead.”

There would be no downside to possessing another SS-rank sword, but since Myungwoo had brought it up, it did make me feel pensive. Since, the way things were right now, it would most likely end up being used as a sub-weapon, in all probability. Yoohyunie was capable of dual-wielding two swords, true, but for him, having a hand free to use his flames would likely be more advantageous than even having an SS-rank sword in each hand.

“Is it possible to veer course like that this late into the process, though?”

“This would be the perfect opportunity for it, actually, since the smelting process is just about wrapped up now. It took a while longer this time, since I was trying to ensure it would result in a product that’s SS-rank or above.”

“Ah, let me think… It’d be nice for Yerimie to get an SS-rank weapon of her own too, so maybe we should just scratch the one we were going to put out as bait for the ranking tournament. But a sub-weapon wouldn’t be bad either.”

More than anything else, with the Blade’s Predator Skill on the table now, it definitely made me hesitate. It really did seem absolutely unhinged to think about feeding an SS-rank weapon into a single-use instance, but we couldn’t discount the possibility of a situation that would warrant such a response actually coming up. But it also meant that it would be wasting away in his inventory in the meanwhile, otherwise…….

“There’s still a few days left, so think it over for a bit.”

“Yeah. You mentioned before that it seemed particularly suited to be made into a sword though, right?”

“According to the attributes held by the monster you described, true–but it seems to possess an unexpectedly strong Water affinity, too.”

“Water affinity?”

My ears pricked up. Now that I thought about it, it had been classified as <the Benign King’s faction>, ergo one of the <Sea of Fog>’s denizens. And if it was called the ‘Sea of Fog,’ then it was nearly a given that it probably possessed a Water affinity.

“Then, I suppose this weapon really should be spec’d for Yerimie instead, if that's the case.”

“If you want it to go towards Bak Yerim’s weapon, then I can also use it to upgrade her existing lance as well.”

“For real?”

“Since it’s something I made.”

Woah, so something like that was possible too, huh. I’d have to consult Yoohyunie about it first, though. Considering that I’d originally intended to give it to Yoohyunie, and because he might be in need of a sub-weapon after all.

“I’m also in the middle of processing those SS-rank magic stones we got from Japan. I’ve actually just finished up making the pistol, did you want to take a look? It’s only a D-rank, though.”

“Already? Yeah, I wanna see!”

It hadn’t even been very long, but he’d already completed it. Even if it was of a lower rank, as it had been intended for low-ranked Hunter use anyway, a D-rank grade was still a thank-you-very-much get.

“Peace-yah, we’ll be back in a blink. Stay right here, ‘kay.”

- 끄우응.

“If anyone comes by, let them know we just went to Myungwoo’s Forge, alright.”

I instructed him, scribbling a note down on a memo on top of the table. Peace gave a slightly unhappy flick of his tail.

The Forge brimmed over with the smell of wood and smoke, as always. Ismoire waved a hand at me in greeting.

“It functions as normal outside of the continuous firing mechanism, once it’s charged. The wielder should be able to take down an E-rank monster no problem, so long as it’s been supplied with enough mana.”

Myungwoo handed what looked to be an ordinary pistol to me, and then motioned towards Ismoire. A tiny ball of flame materialized, and transformed into the shape of a bird that fluttered over. Taking aim at it, I pulled on the trigger. 퍽, with a small thud, the bird made of fire absorbed the mana bullet and dispersed into the air.

“I think you should be able to instantly charge and fire two rounds or so, even with an F-rank mana reserve. Something like this might prove fairly popular overseas, for self-defense use? Since possession of a firearm is illegal here in Korea, but that’s not the case overseas.”

It was a weapon that even an FF-rank Awakened, who was below the cutoff for recognition as a Hunter, would be able to use. While Korea could be considered safe enough at this time, overseas was a different matter; and so, it seemed that many would be clamouring for such an item.

“And because its lethality level is comparable to an ordinary pistol’s, they shouldn’t say that it’s too dangerous, either.”

The reason ordinary firearms didn’t work on monsters was because their bodies were cloaked in mana. It was still possible to eliminate some of the lower-ranked ones with modern weapons, true, but the drop in effectiveness was quite steep. Since even an F-rank monster, which could be dropped by a Hunter with a few stabs of a blade, would require several magazine’s worth of bullets before they could be successfully felled.

At my words, Myungwoo shook his head.

“I wouldn’t be able to handle mass-production of it by myself. Not even if we were only looking to arm only the lower-ranked Hunters. It’s less of a problem regarding the ingredients that go into it, than it is a manpower issue.”

“I s’pose that makes sense, yeah. What about your apprentices?”

“They’d be able to craft something like this gun if I showed them, sure. But even then, their numbers wouldn't come nearly close enough.”

So it really did come down to a lack of manpower, huh.

“We could try gathering capable individuals from all around the country, then. The people currently working at your shop don’t necessarily possess crafting-based Skills either, right. If we have people go into Dungeons and tell them, ‘only the people who manage to make the following objects the fastest will be able to escape‘ while they’re placed under duress from monsters, and have them Awaken that way… Well, I suppose that would be straying into ethical dilemma territory, then.”

“We could recruit only the people whose desire to craft weapons outweigh the associated risks, that they’d be fine with those parameters.”

Saying that it didn’t seem to be a bad proposal, Myungwoo nodded his head. We’d definitely have to implement a NDA, in that case.

Nibbling on the snacks and tea Myungwoo brought out for me, we discussed the pending expansion of the blacksmith shop. It seemed like keeping the central shop at its current location within the building, and then constructing a separate wing nearby at a different location, would be the ideal way to proceed. Though it would have to be left until we’d amassed enough personnel to warrant the addition, most likely.

“In any case, what did you call me over for? It wasn’t because you needed to talk about the weapon, I reckon.”

“Ah, that’s…….”

It was probably better to lead with Blackie’s stone, I figured. As I fumbled to find the right words to explain the situation with the Mana Seal, Myungwoo watched me silently for a moment before opening his mouth.

“Is it regarding Noah?”

“...eh?”

“He seems to be pretty deep in his own head, following his return from Japan.”

At Myungwoo’s words, I gave a big nod.

“Since it’s difficult to broach such a subject first, y’know, but I still felt concerned. Has he said anything to you?”

“He’s gone even quieter than usual. If his previous problems seemed to center around his noona, right now, it feels like he’s grappling with something of a more fundamental nature.”

“Fundamental?”

“About ‘only amounting to mediocrity,’ or the like. That there’s nothing about him that can be considered particularly outstanding.”

That Noah-ssi was someone who tended to lack confidence in himself was something I’d been aware of. But it was something that was difficult for me to fully comprehend, as someone in my position. He came off as being plenty exceptional in my eyes.

“Even objectively speaking, Noah-ssi is most definitely an accomplished Hunter, right. So I’m even more unsure on how I should approach this sort of issue.”

“It might seem like a privileged concern to someone else, true. But feeling ‘just mediocre,’ it can be more challenging that you’d think. He’s an S-rank Hunter, but considered ‘weak’ for an S-rank. Since he only possesses a single healing Skill, he can’t be classified as a Healer either. And a Support-type is, well, simply ‘support,’ right.”

Not that ‘Support’ wasn’t an essential function, too. But that was how the world saw things, wasn’t it. Not just for Hunters, but for other occupations as well; when a prefix like ‘sub-’ got attached to a title, it became easier to discount the person bearing it. When it resulted in a juxtaposition being drawn up between what was considered ‘essential’ and ‘optional,’ a gap couldn’t help but stretch out between them.

The experience he’d undergone at Medsang may’ve ended up rubbing more salt in the wound, I considered. It was a situation where he’d been shown that even a Support-type could excel; but changing reality was a far bigger struggle than it seemed. And on top of that, the city called Medsang had only been able to come into existence because of that remarkable entity called ‘Mu.’ Meanwhile, all of the other cities had been established by Combat-types.

“Just giving up and resigning himself to receiving your protection would be an option too, Yoojin-ah. But he’s not ready to give up that easily, either, it seems.”

“Then, the new Skill he’s received must be either ‘Ghosting(유체화)’ or ‘Miniaturization(소형화),’ after all.”(2)

Whether to use the Skill, or abstain from it; it appeared Noah-ssi had found himself at a crossroads. He could remain sequestered in the arms of safety and be doted upon, or resolve for higher aspirations as a Hunter. That might have been why he’d been avoiding me as of late. In order to come to a decision, of his own volition.

‘Yerimie had mentioned that the reason she felt capable of spreading her wings, was because she knew there was a home she could always return to.’

But Noah-ssi wasn’t able to entrust me to such an extent, it seemed. Although that was really the normal response you’d have, wasn’t it. It wasn’t as though we’d known each other that long, and our acquaintanceship had been the result of the Keyword’s effect, besides. It was Yerimie who was the actual outlier. Perhaps I just needed to be more deliberate about relying on him, as Hyuna-ssi had mentioned. What a complicated issue.

Draining the last of my tea, I let out a sigh.

“Interpersonal relations aren’t easy to navigate, I’ll say.”

“People can still go astray even with the utmost attention devoted to them from the moment they’re born, after all. Even if you dedicate as much as you can to an individual, Yoojin-ah, it’s inevitable that there’ll still be a limit to what you can do. And there’s also the possibility that the aid you’re trying to lend might even end up having a detrimental effect, when it’s all said and done.”

“That’s true.”

Even when Yoohyunie and I had been acting with each other’s best interest in mind, we’d still managed to miss the mark, and inflict hurt on one another. Just because you were thinking of someone else, didn’t mean that whatever you were doing would turn out to their benefit. Unless you could see into the future, how could you ever be sure. You had to keep pressing on even if you made mistakes, and then apply yourself to correcting those mistakes.

“The best outcome would be for Noah to become like me, but, well, that’s easier said than done too.”

“Like you, Myungwoo?”

“Yeah. I’ve changed a lot, haven’t I.”

Well, certainly, he’d changed to an almost unrecognizable degree. I glanced over at Myungwoo, who was sitting across from me.

“...looks like you’ve grown even taller as of late?”

“By only about a centimeter or so. But I’m talking about disposition, and not appearance.”

“You certainly don’t act like the you I met back then, true.”

“It’s a difference in confidence, more than anything.”

Myungwoo’s lips pulled into an easygoing smile.

“A confidence that I’m the best. A certainty that there’s no one else in the world capable of reaching that number one spot. Where it’s a given, that no one is capable of replacing me.”

His voice was measured, and equally self-assured. It was just as Myungwoo had said; at present, there was no one in the world who could take his place. Even if it came down to a decision between an S-rank Hunter and Myungwoo himself, a hundred times out of a hundred, they would choose the Blacksmith in a heartbeat. After all, so long as they had Myungwoo, it would be easy enough to command those S-rank Hunters as well. And just wait until he completed that SS-rank weapon; an absolute frenzy was guaranteed.

For a moment, it felt as though I could see a halo of light illuminating Myungwoo from behind.

“...you’re pretty awesome, huh.”

“Same goes for you too, Yoojin-ah.”

“No, that’s, I…….”

I was different from Myungwoo. Though I may have assisted the process, the Golden Forge Skill and his talent at craftsmanship–those had been innate qualities he’d already held within himself. But that hadn’t been the case for me; my abilities hadn’t been earned through my own power. Nor had they been something I could have obtained on my lonesome, either.

“But, in any case. If Noah-ssi were to achieve the position of the world’s greatest Support-type–d’you think his worries would be alleviated, then?”

“The issue is that that in itself is contentious. Besides, I managed to reach the top while pursuing my actual dreams, didn’t I. Even if I hadn’t started out intending to build weapons–regardless of that detail, I was nevertheless able to see my ultimate objective in life through.”

Saying that there were probably very few people in the world who could report a similar level of satisfaction as he enjoyed, Myungwoo smiled.

“That is, aside from having to worry about you, Yoojin-ah.”

“...yessir, ’fraid I can’t refute that, sir.”

Especially at this moment–even if I’d had ten mouths, there wouldn’t have been anything I would’ve had the face to say in response to that. Feeling guilty, I gingerly brought a glass container out of my inventory and placed it on top of the table.

“It’s a magic core. It should be a C-rank one–could you assess its condition for me?”

“A C-rank?”

Myungwoo took out Blackie’s magic stone and gave it an examination.

“A dragonoid type, huh. And a poison-curse trait on top of that?”

“That’s right. So its attributes haven’t deteriorated, then?”

“Yeah. It appears to be in decent shape–what’re you planning on crafting with this? Even if dragonkin are on the rarer side, as far as the grade is concerned, C-rank is a bit too low, isn’t it.”

“Ah, I wasn’t planning on crafting… That’s to say, it’s a kind of ‘crafting,’ but…….”

Eventually, I fessed up to him about the magical beast synthesis Skill. Myungwoo’s face twisted in a faint scowl.

“Incubate it? Inside your body?”

“Erm, it doesn’t really result in any problems. It just leaves a small scar behind, that’s all. And I was intending that this kid be the last one, anyway.”

Once I explained how Blackie had gone out of its way to help me, Myungwoo brought a magic stone out of his inventory with a resigned expression.

“Here–it’s a SS-rank magic core. Use this.”

“Huh? But…….”

“It’s an older stone, so it’s inadequate to be used in Item crafting. It would probably work as a sub-component still, but–you said that this magical beast was one that had protected you, right. If it’s a C-rank, then even if you supplemented the process with an S-rank magic stone, it would be difficult to ensure that it comes out to be an A-rank. And it’d need to reach A-rank at least, to be safe from danger.”

“...thanks, Myungwoo-yah.”

“Just be aware that it’s deteriorated enough that the original attributes aren’t discernable, so there’s no knowing what kind of monster it might’ve been.”

Expressing my thanks again, I took the SS-rank magic core from him. I should begin synthesizing it as soon as we got back to the hospital room.

“And… There’s just one last thing…….”

Seeing the hesitation I was displaying, Myungwoo’s eyes narrowed once more.

“Go on.”

“Ah, there’s this thing called a Mana Seal, that isn’t supposed to pose any harm to your body. It’s apparently helpful for me, y’see.”

“A Seal?”

“Yeah–it’s on my back.”

Putting the magic cores away into my inventory, I took off my shirt.

“Here–d’you see it?”

“.......”

A brief silence settled. 끼익, with the small screech of a chair being pushed back, Myungwoo rose from his seat. Without warning, a hand shot out to grab me by the back of the neck, and pinned me down against the surface of the table. And though I struggled against the tabletop to break free from the position I’d abruptly found myself in, considering the stark differences in our stats, it only amounted to a futile effort at best.

“Hey, what gives!”

“The hell is this. What sort of deranged thing have you gone and done?!”

Ah. …he seemed to be upset.

- - - - -

(1) 침식하는 군림자의 검 (‘encroaching/eroding/corroding’ + ‘sovereign/ruler’s sword/blade’)

(2) 유체화 (‘phasing through’ ability/Ghost (LoL)) / 소형화 (‘miniaturization’/’shrinking’)

+(Q&A)

Q) is there a plot-related reason that yoojinie is unable to use the sapling Skill to look at his own stat window? A) as a passive effect of the Nurturer title, the sapling Skill can only be used on others who hold the potential to become a candidate for ‘nurturing’. to be precise, it is a limit imposed by the System; and, should Han Yoojin make the decision to protect and look after himself as well, he would be able to overcome the bounds of the System and use it on himself, too.

+(Q&A)

Q) would it be possible to hear a bit more in-depth about the circumstances that allowed han yoojin be able to use diarma’s Skills, such as the magical beast synthesis, mind dimension Skill etc.? A) diarma’s ability is akin to a subtype of the ‘perfect nurturer’. it possessed the ability to rear new dragonoid beings via synthesis. because the dragonkin-synthesis Skill was something diarma possessed prior to becoming a Transcendent, it was simply a case of the Skill having evolved alongside its owner; its original Skill grade ranked below that of the ‘perfect nurturer’. additionally, the title that han yoojin gained from defeating the lauchitas–which allows him to subjugate curse-poison type dragons–worked in tandem with the ‘perfect nurturer’ title, which is how he was able to acquire diarma’s ability. regarding the possible combinations: with the buff provided by the ‘perfect nurturer’ title, it evolved to overcome the limits of race as well. it would have been impossible under normal circumstances, but you could say that the circumstances were serendipitous ^^

+(Q&A)

Q) the optimized Skills(?) picked up on by the sapling Skill the main character uses, can they be hereditary? for example, if one of the parents has a talent for agriculture cultivation, and they happen to Awaken and develop a Skill related to that, I was wondering if their child may Awaken to possess something similar A) as innate proclivities and temperament, etc., do affect Skill development, there is a chance that such a thing could be passed down. though the humans in the novel don’t really have a particular ‘characteristic’ for their race(human), in the case of the dokkaebi, ‘flying’ and ‘transformation’ are akin to ‘basic skills’ innate to their race. if it’s a household that has a particular proclivity for x, then their offspring will probably have a high chance of displaying a corresponding or identical Skill^^ however, unless one Awakened fairly early, as what carries a greater influence is ‘life experience’ rather than ‘innate(born) disposition’, there are many cases of one acquiring a Skill with completely different properties than their parents’.

+(Q&A)

Q) this is something i became v curious about while re-reading the epilogue: is it correct that the reason the ‘final gratitude(마지막 보은)’ Skill disappeared, was because yoojinie didn’t want it? A) because han yoojin’s Nurturer title had that task of having raised han yoohyun as its foundational condition, the ‘final requital(마지막 보답)’ and ‘final gratitude(마지막 보은)’ skills were a product of han yoohyun’s influence. in truth, it’s a Skill that’s vastly different from han yoojin’s natural disposition. from the ending’s pov, with the twenty-five year old han yoohyun having been born anew through the Source; and the twenty year old han yoohyun having decided to stay together with hyung while acknowledging his own desires, instead of continually repressing himself for hyung, the power that is granted in return for a blood-related nurturer’s sacrifice disappeared from the new Nurturer title ^^

+(Q&A)

Q) s-ranks have immensely sturdy bodies, right… then, is their mental fortitude greater than that of an un-Awakened person as well? like they receive less stress, for example…. or don’t get depressed… that kind of thing. A) mental fortitude is included among the stats that level up corresponding to rank after Awakening. cases do exist where, due to an uneven distribution of stats, one may end up with particularly low resilience values; but, typically, mid-ranked and higher Awakened tend to possess greater mental fortitude than most un-Awakened. as a result, unlike low-ranked Hunters, Hunters who are mid-ranked or above will generally adapt quickly even on their first foray into a Dungeon. during the story, bak yerim also displayed a distinct lack of fear when dealing with monsters. han yoojin, too, was also able to withstand the trauma of losing his keyword application target better than he normally would, while the buff to his mental fortitude stat applied by the ‘Requital(보답)’ Skill was activated.

+(Q&A)

Q) han yoojin’s fear resistance that appeared when he re-Awakened, it didn’t seem to have much to do with the king of curses and poisons, lauchitas; was it something the reprobates had deliberately given to him, or was it something that appeared in accordance with han yoojin’s situation at the time? A) his fear resistance is a Skill that appeared as a result of a convergence between the situation at hand + han yoojin’s personal attributes. the mental fortitude shown by an f-rank taking the lauchitas head-on, was multiplied by the resolve shown through his enduring devotion to a born s-rank, who he’d held no reservations with and had never given up on, even after their relationship grew strained. even aside from han yoohyun, it’s the accumulated experience from the times he’d stood his ground while faced with other high-rank Hunters, including sung hyunjae and song taewon, manifesting in the form of a Skill.

+(Q&A)

Q) could we know a bit more background info about the Golden Forge’s previous master, shalos? A) shalos was a Dragon Lord who hailed from a world where all living beings were capable of ascension into dragonhood, once they had surpassed a certain cultivation threshold; therefore, even after he had become a Transcendent, rather than seeking eternal life, shalos sought to be reincarnated instead. and though he wished to be returned to the Origin, to be born anew in a renewed world, it wasn't his objective to have the Origin also ‘reset’ everything else in the process as well. it was mentioned in the novel too, that some aspects ended up being absorbed, while the rest became ‘reborn.’ ismoire was the ‘thread’ he left connecting him back to the outside, so that he might be successfully reincarnated into the universe once more. of course, reincarnation cannot be absolutely guaranteed even with a strong ‘thread’ that ties one back, but rest assured that shalos did manage to safely reincarnate somewhere ^^ having concluded the necessary preparations for reincarnation with the creation of ismoire, shalos constructs the Golden Forge with the remainder of his power before it disappears alongside him, out of regard for the ones who will be left behind to face the impending end(멸망/apocalypse). because it was something he crafted for the one who will continue his legacy, he created it with utmost love and care.

+(Q&A)

A) (yoo myungwoo’s ideal type) yoo myungwoo isn’t particularly interested in getting involved with someone else. he's content enough to just have the person(s) he cares about be involved in his life.

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