#are these all the tags? am i doing this right?

[ellecdc]

no fondling in the dog house

Sirius Black x fem!reader who has to pick him up from the kennel [1.1k words]

CW: talk about fondling bollocks, a police station, Sirius being the least serious person, a good humoured argument between partners, threats of neutering/castration

“Now, ma’am, you are aware that under the highway code, dogs must be kept on a lead?”

“Yes sir.” You offered as earnestly as you could, though you couldn’t help the indignance that coloured your voice at the fact that you were the one being scolded for this misdemeanour right now. 

“And that they must be accompanied by their owner.” The enforcement officer continued, cocking an unimpressed eyebrow at you for your insolence. 

“Of course; I really am sorry, sir.” You offered more sincerely; you were really very sorry that you were here at all. 

“They’re also meant to be microchipped by the time they are 8-weeks old.” He continued, sifting through the numerous documents you signed after proving that the large black dog that had been picked up by muggle animal control did, indeed, belong to you. 

“Oh, he’s going to be microchipped alright.” You grumbled, adding a quiet “gonna look at having him neutered, too” under your breath. 

The officer ignored you as he called to his coworker to bring the stray out. 

“What did you say his name was again?”

But before you had a chance to answer, his coworker let out a surprised ‘oof’ when you heard the sound of paws galloping down the kennel hall before a large, long-haired black dog came barrelling through the doorway and sat excitedly at your feet.

“Padfoot.” You offered reproachfully, both in answer to the enforcement officer you just spent the past forty minutes being chastised by and in greeting to your boyfriend who was officially in the dog house. 

Padfoot offered you a bark back in response; the enforcement officer still seemed rather displeased with the both of you, but the kennel attendant let out a pleased laugh at the exchange. 

“What the fuck?” You asked the dog, to which he responded by nuzzling against your hand with his snout. You gently shoved it away from you. 

“He’s really quite a well behaved dog.” The attendant offered, either missing the disbelieving and reproving looks from both you and the enforcement officer respectively, or choosing to ignore them. “Usually strays are all stressy and anxious, but he sat patiently during intake and followed me right to the kennel without any hesitation.”

Padfoot looked between you and the attendant as if saying “did you hear that? I was good!” whilst you and the officer both stared at them a little bit longer before you ultimately broke the silence. “Yeah,” you deadpanned, “I’m sure he was a real treat.” 

“Don’t forget to invest in a tag for him.” The officer called as you slid a collar and lead onto Padfoot.

“Will do, officer. I really am sorry for all of this. I swear, it will not happen again.” 

Seemingly appeased, he waived you off, and you and Padfoot exited the police station. 

You dropped the lead and let Padfoot drag it himself as you turned down the alleyway - nearly snapping your wand with the force you used to tap the enchantment that brought you back to the magical side of London - and stepped right into Diagon Alley. 

“Baby-”

“Oh don’t you baby me, Sirius.” You hissed as you turned on your heel to glower at your boyfriend; you watched his cupid’s bow flatten as he folded his lips over his teeth in an attempt to keep from laughing, though you were pleased that the furrowing of his brows and the fact that he was wringing the collar and lead between his hands let you know he was at least somewhat contrite. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me?”

“Uhm, I think it was a little bit more embarrassing for me, doll. The intake form asked if I was altered or not, which ultimately saw that attendant fondling my bollocks.”

“Oh, and I’m sure you hated that.” You spat as you turned on your heel, fighting against the smile that threatened to take over your face at Sirius’ bark of laughter. 

“Baby, I’m sorry. You know you’re the only one I like fondling my bollocks.” He laughed as he jogged to catch up to you.

“Yeah well, it won’t be happening any time soon, I can tell you that much for free.” 

“Oh come now.” 

“What were you even doing!?” You asked then, stopping in the spot and nearly causing Sirius to collide with you. 

“I may have said something to James, Remus, and Pete about how stags love Padfoot, and they argued that Prongs didn’t exactly count as a stag, so I wanted to prove them wrong.”

“They dared you, didn’t they?” You surmised, hearing Sirius’ half truth for what it was.

“It wasn’t so much of a dare as it was a scientific experiment-”

“Sirius.”

“Okay! Okay, yes, they dared me. So, I figured I’d head over to Richmond Park and befriend myself a stag. I would have, too! If that fuckin’ auror hadn’t gone and foiled my plan.”

“They’re called officers, Sirius.” You corrected darkly. “You were caught by muggle officers.” 

“Why do you think you had to pick me up!?” Sirius exclaimed then. “I couldn’t very well turn back into myself and explain the situation away. And you know I’m pants at obliviation.” 

“Shame.” you huffed as you carried on towards Gringotts. “I was hoping you could obliviate this entire memory for me.”

“I would, too. Better than being stuck in the dog house.” Sirius muttered, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “Where are we going?”

“The bank.”

“Why?” 

You halted in your quest again, this time causing Sirius to trip in his attempt to avoid slamming into you. “You owe me - I had to bail you out, Sirius! They charged me fines; I have a record now.” 

“Completely fair, doll. I’ll be right back.” He agreed, pressing a kiss to your cheek that had you pretending to shove him away before he started towards the bank. 

“And take out enough to buy yourself a collar and a tag with my contact information on it!” You shouted, pausing before you added “And enough for ice cream!”

“Consider it done, babe. Anything else?”

“Yeah,” you called as you started walking towards Flourish and Blotts, “you’re getting microchipped.”

You didn’t need to turn around to know that Sirius was looking at you quizzically. “What’s a microchip?” He called as you kept walking. “Babe? Oi, babe! What’s a microchip!?”

[chibinasuu]

Hello! I saw your req’s were open >.< so I was wondering if I could ask for a zoro or Sanji x sleepy reader. Specifically where reader is constantly sleepy and NEEDS their naps or they will be cranky like a toddler XD sorry this is just exactly how I am and I think it’s kinda silly <3 thank youu && I love your work

asdjkdlakdj this is such a cute prompt!! thank you so much for the request! i know you said zoro or sanji, but i couldn’t decide so i just did both :) 

hope you enjoy <3

Much-needed Nap

Pairings: Zoro, Sanji x Reader (separate)  Tags: sfw, fluff, established relationship, GN but written with F!Reader in mind, no use of y/n

Zoro

“Zorooo,” You pouted from your perch on the bench of the crow’s nest, “How much longer are you going to take?” 

The swordsman in question was doing some push-ups effortlessly in the center of the room, “I literally just started warming up.”

“Oh, come on!” You went over and crouched beside him, poking the hard muscles of his bare back, “It’s nap time.”

He paused and looked at you incredulously, “You already took a nap right after lunch!”

“I can’t help it that I’m already sleepy again!” 

“Well, go take another nap then.” He said, continuing his reps, “I gotta finish this set.”

“But I wanna nap with you!” You whined as you belly-flopped onto his back without so much as a warning, your arms clinging to his neck, “Now, Zoro!”

Zoro, the monster that he is, didn’t even stumble and continued with his push-ups as if there was no added weight of another person’s whole body on top of his.

“Fifty more.” He compromised. “You can stay where you are. Hell, you can just nap like that if you want.”

After a few more reps, he chuckled, “This is actually great training – I could use the extra weight.”

You swatted the back of his head, and with an exaggerated gasp, you joked, “Are you saying I’m heavy?!”

His movement actually stuttered as he burst into laughter, “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you love me anyway.”

“That, I do.”

The motion of Zoro’s exercise had a similar effect on you as a rocking chair, and you felt your eyes getting heavier and heavier. 

“...Forty-eight, forty-nine,” You vaguely registered Zoro counting, “Fifty!” 

He carefully lowered himself onto the mat and you rolled off him, “Ugh, finally.” 

Before Zoro could get up, you draped one of your legs and arms over him, trapping him to your side. 

Zoro laughed, “At least let me get dressed first.”

“No, don’t get up.” You snuggled closer to him, “I’m comfy.”

He squirmed to get you both into a more comfortable position. Now on his back with your head resting on his chest, he said, “Hm. Can’t believe I found someone who likes to nap more than me.”

“Seems like you met your match then.”

“Seems like I did.” He agreed.

It was dark when you were rudely awoken by Usopp’s shouts from below the mast, calling out that dinner was ready.

You sighed as you felt Zoro’s steady breathing, indicating that he was still fast asleep. You might be insufferable whenever you needed a nap, but your man was definitely more so whenever he needed to be woken up from his. 

As you gently shook him awake, his arm, which had snaked around your waist in his sleep, tightened even further. He buried his face into your neck and refused to open his eyes.

You let out another exhale. You could only hope that Luffy had not already inhaled all of the food by the time you two finally got to the dining room.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Sanji

“Hey,” Sanji called out, hands busy filling the kettle to make some tea for the two of you, “Do you want the blue mug or the yellow one?”

You were seated on the dining chair, your body slumped forward onto the table, arms pillowing your heavy head. It had only been a couple of hours since you woke up from your last nap, yet you could barely keep your eyes open now. 

The rain pattered on, the faint sound of it hitting the deck outside and the window of the dining room only added to your drowsiness. 

You had heard Sanji talking to you, but in your half-asleep state, you couldn’t find the energy to give him an answer. 

Sanji, still facing the stove, repeated the question in a slightly louder voice, thinking you hadn’t heard him. 

“I don’t care, Sanji!” You snapped as you put your forehead down on the table and closed your eyes.

Sanji paused, before immediately turning off the stove and putting away the mugs. Tea time could wait, he thought, but first, he needed to take care of his beloved. 

He walked to where you sat and touched your back gently to get your attention.

You lifted your head and looked up at him, about to open your mouth to apologize for your ill temper, but he already had a knowing smile on his face.

“Come on,” he said, offering his hand, “It's time for your nap, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed as you took his outstretched hand, “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Sanji only chuckled while he pulled you to your feet, “I know. You’re just tired, aren’t you?”

He led you to the plush couch on the other side of the kitchen, then sat down and patted his lap. 

You curled up on the couch, placing your head on his lap as you’d done countless times before. The cook’s delicate fingers automatically went to your hair, his gentle strokes slowly lulling you to sleep. 

“The blue one,” you mumbled sleepily, causing Sanji to reply with a confused “Huh?”

“I’d like the blue mug, please.”

Sanji smiled in amusement, “Sure thing, dear. We’ll get the tea brewing once you’re up from your nap.”

He touched his fingertips gently to his lips, then to your forehead, before returning them to your hair, “For now, sleep.”

You obliged, falling into a peaceful slumber, as you always do with him around.

a/n: FYI, i'm currently holding a cozy holiday drabble event so please join and send in your requests if you're interested!! check out the details here <3

[siriuslylantsov]

mistletoe

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: in which you and spencer decorate your apartment for christmas.

tags: fluff, roommate!spencer, gn!reader, idiots in love, pinning, decorating!, spencer lifts reader up super quick, reader teases spencer bcs its fun, a little singing.

a/n: woahhh first christmas fic. MY BAD i listened to our love by curtis harding when i wrote majority of this so it just became what it did (not rlly sure what that is). you'd think a reader fond of christmas would only be playing christmas songs (esp when decorating), but she doesn't even?? idk guys. also i gave a hack making a header for this one, might continue making them. anyway lmk what you think, happy reading :))

wc: 1.7k

“tacky, tacky, tacky...” you drone, fingers skimming over the themed trinkets and signs on the shelves. you’re christmas decor shopping with spencer. it's almost the end of november, which you personally think is too late (being a strict ‘christmas starts on november 1st’ believer), but you had no choice in the matter, wanting to wait for spencer's schedule to free up so you could go together. 

“oh cute!” you chirp, picking up a porcelain snoopy with a santa hat on. you show it to spencer, who trails behind you with a sparsely filled cart. “beside the-”

“tv,” he finishes for you, nodding in agreement. you place it in the cart and continue walking down the aisle.

“i hope you’re checking the price tags,” he muses from behind you, scanning over all the items. you shoot him a look paired with an unconvincing “yeah.”

“be serious,” he says, though a little amused.

“i am,” you step closer to him, meeting his somewhat challenging gaze. you try to hold your ground but something about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners as he squints at you makes you want to look away. “fine, i'll look over everything before check out. deal?”

he smiles, victorious. “deal.” he holds out his hand and you give it a firm shake before continuing your perusing.

you spend the next 2 hours like that, complaining about the abundance of generic things and squealing when you do find something nice. in the end, settling on an assortment of baubles, to add on to the ones you already had from last year, a new green blanket, a mulled-wine scented candle (that took you way too long to pick), the snoopy ornament, and 2 matching mugs which you had to sweet talk spencer into buying. you can never have too many mugs. 

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

you light the new candle and set it on the dining table, briefly glancing at the flame. the warmth on your face feels nice but you pull away quickly, knowing that if spencer catches you that close to the candle, he’ll chastise you about the fumes. 

he's digging through the closet for last year's decorations. the tree is already up–7ft something–tucked in the corner of the living room, bare and in dire need of some personality. he finds the box, and you pull out the fairy lights, starting to swirl the wire from the top down, spencer opposite you to help.

music faintly plays from your speaker, so you turn it up, landslide by fleetwood mac.

you circle around the tree with a handful of baubles, a collection of reds and whites, hanging them up where they felt right. spencer nudges you for approval on a few placements and you give him a reassuring smile. the two of you move in sync, on either end. he places a custom ornament of his team somewhere to the front of the tree. when you put up the last of the new ones, you take a step back and give it a good look. happy, spencer hands you the star. he hovers two tentative hands under your arms, over your rib cage, to lift you. there’s a stool near you that would’ve been perfectly fine, but you wiggle in his grasp anyway, telling him he can. despite his lanky frame, he picks you up with ease. you place the gold topper on firmly. when he puts you down you lean back into him, swaying. you hum quietly to the music. he presses his lips into your hair, lingering, before pulling away. you instantly miss his warmth, but you don't dwell on it, why should you?

the click of the kettle sounds from the kitchen, he's probably making tea. you think to tell him to use the new mugs, but he already knows. you're still swaying, head dipping up and down as you move across the room. you look through the box for more things to decorate with when your eyes land on a sprig of artificial leaves held together with a red bow.

“hey, when did we get mistletoe?” you call out, hoping your voice carries to the adjoining room.

“hmm?” he pokes his head through the door, looking at the item in your hand. “oh... penny got it for us last year, didn't put it up though.” he explains before returning to the tea, you put it in your pocket for later. you were well aware of what his teammates thought of you, or rather you and him. over the course of the 2 years you lived with spencer, you’d been taken to their family dinners and get-togethers as his plus one, never a girlfriend or a date, you. they ceased their relentless teasing for your benefit, but you knew spencer got the brunt of it when you weren't around. they mean well, they’re just annoying, he told you after you met them for the first time. 

you saunter over, ready to tease him. you can't help but want to, he's just so easy. plus, you think it's endearing when he's flustered. “you wanna put it up?” you ask with a smirk, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“what! oh- i don't know, no- uhm- well i don't mean no like it would be bad a bad thing- i just mean–” he stammers nervously, eyes wide and slightly panicked, before you cut him off with a laugh. 

“calm down, pretty. i'm just joshin’ ya.”

he lets out a sigh of relief, though it's laced in hidden disappointment. he wouldn't mind if you put it up, wouldn't mind at all. he hands you your mug, navy with little yellow speckles that resembled stars. with his own in hand, he leads you out of the kitchen.

you settle on the couch beside each other. your shoulder lightly bumps against his in steady beats because you're still swaying, as you blow at your drink. worried about you spilling he peels it from you and sets it down on the arm rest to cool on its own. your knee is bouncing now as the next song starts playing, our love. 

“there's a girl in town and words gone around she's just fine,” you sing quietly, head dropping onto his shoulder. “so i don't worry my head cause i know her heart is tied to mine.” you tip back onto the cushions, and you raise a dramatic hand to your chest, over your heart. “the life that we live and the love that i give to her. each day it grows more and more i'm sure, it shows. well,” you shift to face him, leaning closer. 

“our love, is a bubblin' fountain. our love, that flows into a sea. our love, deeper than any ocean. our love, for eternity.”

you quiet as the second verse starts playing, switching to mouthing the lyrics instead. you look at him with a reverie, head tilted in observation, that makes him nervous. “…he holds me down for sure.” in diligent self-sabotage, he combats this by starting to sing along with you, putting his mug down beside yours, effectively ending the moment as you spring in recognition.

your eyebrows furrow in amusement as you follow suit, planting your hands on his shoulders to move his in tow with yours. the angle is awkward, and he looks a little silly as he does it but it's fine. the chorus plays through and you tire, dipping your head back into his shoulder as he returns your mug to you, albeit still quietly mumbling the lyrics. 

you practically chug the tea, having reached an ideal temperature. spencer sits sipping slowly, a serial sipper. you curl into his side in the meantime, arm looped through his. after several minutes, he finishes and you take both mugs to the sink, rinsing them swiftly. 

you slowly but surely continue decorating. two stockings adorned with your initials hang from the key rack in the hallway. handmade paper snowflakes are stuck to the window, snowflakes that had you and spencer hunched over in concentration on the floor a few nights ago, tediously cutting away. you go back and forth on whether the tinsel would go well with the tree, realising all it missed was something sparkly, you wrap it around. spencer nails a simple wreath on the front door, there's a little purple bow on it. snoopy is placed in the midst of the trinkets that sat at your tv table–good choice, you think. you change out the pillowcases on the couch for ones with a red flannel pattern and throw the new blanket across the back. 

the space is perfect, standing in the middle of the room you take a deep breath. waxy candle scented greatness fills your senses, and somehow pine? from the wreath you assume. it's dimly lit, and the low light reflects off the sparkles on the tree gracefully. you wish you had a fireplace during times like this, you take a picture to preserve it anyway. 

you leave to change into your pyjamas, quickly so the cold doesn't linger on your skin. when you return to the living room you find spencer on the couch, a book perched in his lap. you come up to the back, mistletoe that you fished out of your pocket in hand. you crouch behind him, a little to his right, with the leaves dangling over his head. you graze it lightly on his hair and he looks up. his eyes widen slightly in realisation, but he doesn't try to move, he's intently still. with an amused huff, you lean in and kiss his cheek softly. he's still frozen in place, so as to prolong whatever's happening, a flush spreading across his face. you lean back and drop the sprig into the seat beside him. 

“goodnight spencer,” you whisper, suddenly timid. he touches his fingers to the area as you walk away. 

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

a few hours later, he walks into your room, quietly padding across the floor, to your side of the bed. he made the mistake of drinking a cup of coffee a few minutes after you left and now, he can't sleep, naturally. he bends and presses a kiss to your forehead, in some kind of implied reciprocation. you don't feel it, you don't even stir, but for now, that's alright with him.

he’ll put the mistletoe up, maybe in the doorway to the kitchen. and hope to god you both find yourselves under it at the same time.

m.list | comments and reblogs are appreciated :)

[gingernut1314]

The Water's Embrace ch. 7

Summary: You and Silco talk about recent events happening within your friend group before one simple act has everything exploding in your faces.

Content: female reader, gendered terms, pre-season 1 arcane, young Vander, young Silco, young Sevika, young reader, young Felicia, young Connol, Nadia & Nikolai are Viktor's parents, silco POV, fear of rejection/ruining friendship, rejection, reader has water manipulation, smoking, slight Arcane season 2/League of Legends spoiler (Janna, Felicia & Connol)

Word Count: 5.9K

Tag List: @miffysoo , @teriyakiitae

A/N: So.....that series finale.....how we feeling about it? I'm feeling unwell SOB. Anywayy here is the next chapter and I hope you all enjoy!!

↞ to The Water's Cold Embrace Masterlist | Arcane Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

Three years later

“Felicia’s pregnant!” You gaped at Silco from where he sat on the edge of the small pool of water you swam in. It was a pool located in the cave you once called home, though nothing but a rotting, makeshift bed remained of that past. Even Janna had left this place.

You had noticed she hadn’t been around much for a year. A long time for her to be away at sea…if she was even out at sea at all. 

To say her disappearance didn’t worry you would be a lie. She may be an emotionless wind spirit but she was still the thing that had raised you. You still found love for her in your heart. 

You ducked under the surface of the inky black waters, swimming forward till you popped up at the edge of the pool. Silco unbent his legs from his chest only to criss cross them, making it easier to lean closer to you and your utter shock. 

“Shocking, right?” Silco's seafoam eyes tracked you as you placed your arms on the stone floor beside him. 

“Shocking is quite the understatement.” You let your feet kick aimlessly through the waters, enjoying the feel against your skin. It’d been too long since you’d been swimming like this. “She--with who? Connol?” Silco nodded. 

“It would seem.”

“Damn… damn .” Silco nodded in agreement. “What--I mean--I’m happy for her.” Silco raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Are you?” He teased. 

“ Yes .” You huffed back. “I’m just…worried.” Silco again nodded.

“Yes…as am I.” You scooted closer to him then. “She made us promise to make Zaun a reality for her child.” 

“And it will become reality.” You confirmed only for Silco to sigh deeply. 

“It’s been years .” He murmured. “We’ve continued to let Piltover stomp all over us. We are no closer to freedom let alone Zuan.” 

“You’re giving up?” Silco leveled you with a fierce look. 

“Hardly. I’m just tired of waiting and waiting for the “right moment”.” You hesitated before placing your hand on his knee, rubbing your thumb over the fabric. Silco’s eyes tracked the touch before they found yours again.

“I know we’ve all been patient for a long while, but I think we need to be patient a bit longer. Especially now that Felicia is expecting.” Your mind went down a dark train of thought. Of the reality that pregnancies down here so rarely made it to full term. To the reality that, even if her child was born safe and sound, it could kill her. To the reality of just how little food there truly was to go around and how babies were such fragile things that had a tendency to die before they reached the age of one. “We don’t want to stress her more than I’m sure she is now.” 

Silco nodded, eyes darkening in those very same thoughts you had just had. He placed his hand over yours, turning it so that it would rest in his palm. 

“Do you--” Silco began but seemed to think better of it. You gave his hand a squeeze, pulling yourself further on land to peer more closely into his eyes. 

“Do I…? Come on, don’t hold back on me now.” Silco looked over your face slowly. A slowness he had been doing a lot more recently. Not that you minded. You quite liked his attention but it still didn’t help you in your mission to keep your feelings for him smothered. 

“Do you wish for children?” You blinked up at him. And blinked again. And again.

“Me? Have…a kid?” Silco shrugged. 

“Just curious. We’ve never talked about such things before.” A pinkish hue began to spread over his cheeks. A pinkish color you had missed seeing on him. 

“Well, I’ve never really thought about it before. I…really didn’t think I’d make it this far in my life.” Silco smoothed his thumb over the back of your hand in a comforting manner that had you fluttering your feet in the water a bit more. “And not to mention I would be a horrid mother.” Silco scoffed. 

“Hardly. You are great with kids.” 

“What kids have you seen me interact with?” 

“Those kids you helped get away from those enforcers.” You thought back to that day which had happened a year ago. All because a few of them had stolen something for some Topside douchebag. It seemed to give those enforcers some grand idea to not only ruin a perfectly nice day, but to invade the stream and connecting lake kids went to swim around in and use unnecessary force to find the little thieves. 

You had been working when it started. Had only showed up because you had been… called there by some tug you still didn’t know what it was. Some tug that felt too much like magic. You’d gotten there just in time to find enforcers trying to drown some of them, others getting dragged away and beaten up, and others trembling in fear looking like they were praying to some god that you knew wouldn’t show up to help them.

You just assumed it had something to do with your magic and their connection to the waters the enforcers were using to try to harm the children with, so you stepped in and ended it.

Of course, you didn’t tell any of your friends that.

Not even Silco, who knew of your magic and who you practically told everything to. 

You just told them you had left work early because you were feeling unwell and stumbled upon the scene by accident. 

You tried to call out to Janna afterward to see if she knew what that--that calling had been but she had never shown and was nowhere to be found. It was then you first figured out she was missing. Had been missing for a while before.

“They don’t count.” You quickly said.

“Why?”

“Because I hardly even spoke to them,” A lie. They had tried to talk your ear off afterward about your magic, but Silco didn’t need to know that. “And because I said so.” Silco huffed.

“Fine. It doesn’t matter because I’ve seen you interact with Viktor and you do so very well.” You chuckled, a smile blooming at the thought of that kid. 

“Viktor is a sweet thing. Only reason I’m good with him. Most kids are like you and I were. Bad-mouthed little ankle biters.” A smile pulled at Silco’s lips. 

“I suppose you're right.” You both huffed and chuckled at the thought of your younger years. 

“What about you?” You asked as your amusement died out. “Do you want a kid?” Silco fell quiet for a long while. You saw a thousand and one thoughts rush behind his seafoam eyes. 

“You have.” You beamed, pulling your hand from his only so you could plant it on the ground, pulling yourself further upward, now at eye level with the very much blushing Silco. “Oh tell me about it, pretty please.” Silco almost seemed to lean away from your eagerness, eyes scanning and scanning over your face as if he couldn’t get enough of it. 

“There’s--nothing to tell.” You rolled your eyes on a groan. 

“I told you what my opinion on the matter was.” 

“Your opinion was hardly a true answer.” You huffed. 

“Fine. No. I don’t think I will have kids. There. Now tell me what you’ve thought of.” A heaviness filled his eyes. A heaviness you’d also been seeing him show more and more often. Always when watching you. Always when you said something to him. You thought maybe you had upset him somehow but he was always quick to speak and shove the look away. 

“I’ve just thought about it since Felicia’s going to have her own.”

“And…?” You egged him on. 

“And I don’t think it could ever become a reality.” You watched him closely. Watched that heaviness flicker through his eyes again.

What was he thinking about? What was he feeling to make his eyes look like that?

“But you would want one? In an ideal world. In Zaun?” Silco watched you just as closely back.  

“I…suppose.” You grinned up at him, legs kicking upward and making the water splash about. 

“I think you would be a good father.” Silco rolled his eyes. 

“Are you just saying that because I said it about you?” You shook your head. 

“Nope. You also are good with Viktor.” Silco gave a small huff in amusement. 

“Well, Viktor is the ideal child. Very sweet. Doesn’t steal flasks from random strangers off the street and explode them before their very eyes.” Your grin only grew wider as he spoke of your very first meeting. 

“Well, I also don’t think he would beat other children up and then refuse help for his boo-boos.” Silco narrowed his eyes, leaning ever closer to you. 

“I didn’t get any boo-boos and I won those fights fair and square.” 

“And I did go through all that trouble to replace your flask with a much nicer one.” You responded, bringing a finger up to tap at the flask which sat in a pocket on the inside lining of his jacket. 

“It is very nice.” You smirked. 

“You’re very welcome.” Silco gave another small laugh, lips relaxing into an easy smile. His seafoam eyes started up their scanning of your face all over again. A scan that made your heart beat painfully against the cage you had trapped it in to ward it against whatever deeper feelings you had for him. 

Your breath lodged itself in your throat when he brought his hand up to brush away a droplet of water from your cheek. And then to do it again closer to your lips. 

You--you didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know whether to pull even closer so that your noses might brush or jump back into the inky waters to disappear from view. 

But what you did know is you liked the touch. You wanted it to keep going on and on despite your struggle to fight back your feelings. 

Silco said your name softly in question and you thought shit was this--was he going to lean in closer?

“Are you…are you human?” The question took you off guard. Made quickly reel back all those feelings you had stupidly let slip from your iron hold of them. 

“What kind of a question is that?” You huffed, letting your body dip back into the waters, your hands the only thing still holding you to the surface. “Of course I am.” But Silco continued to watch you too carefully. “Why did you even ask me that?”

“Because…you feel different somehow.” Silco shrugged like you weren’t talking about the one topic you avoided speaking of like the plague.

“Are you trying to piss me off?” Silco sighed your name.

“I’m serious. Magic is rare.” 

“You know I don’t like talking about it.” You fully let go of the pool edge then, making to disappear like you had first thought until Silco’s hand shot downward, grabbing hold of your wrist. The action nearly had your heart stopping in your chest.

“You once told me you trusted me enough to tell me those things. That you wanted me to know.” That pink cross over his cheeks once more, burning brighter than before. “It's…just me.” 

Even when you wished to forget about your feelings for him, even when you wished to not talk of your magic, you knew you couldn’t deny him. 

Not ever. 

It was a flaw. Something that should have been corrected a long time ago but was left to fester and grow within you like a fungus. 

“I…know I was born. Only humans are born, right?”

“Magic is mysterious.” You huffed. 

“You don’t need to tell me that.” You thought of Janna. Of all the things she had told you in your youth. 

You thought of that calling . Of how those kids had been praying for help before you had arrived. 

“Maybe…maybe I am but I’m…not?” Silco blinked at you, looking just as confused as you felt. “You remember I told you how my guardian found me, yes?” Silco nodded. 

“When you were small. In the water.” You nodded back at him.

“She’s…well she’s not human.” Silco's eyes sparked at this. 

“Truly?” 

“Annoyingly so. Her “human” body isn’t even human. It’s more elven and even then you can tell she’s other.” Silco gently pulled you back towards the edge of the pool as you spoke and you let him without any fuss. “She spends most of her time as The Winds. She’s old. Came here when The Gray first came to be.” 

“Winds… your guardian is--she’s real?” Of course, he knew of Janna. Most miners did. She uses most of her energy trying to keep them safe from the choking smog that seeped through the tunnels they were forced to work in; it was only natural for them to appreciate her, even when some didn’t believe.

“Yes, but she’s a lot more irritating than you all give her credit for.” Silco chuckled then. 

“She took you in because of your magic?” You nodded. 

“She says our magic was what led her to me. I don’t know much else besides that.” You answered, worrying your lip between your teeth. “You said I feel different? Like in a bad way?” 

“What? No. Like--other. Like…you’ve always given me the feel of the sea, even when I’ve never been sailing out on it. Like if I were to close my eyes right now, you might melt into the very waters you are in.” He paused for a moment, eyes flickering over your features once more. Something like…worry? Nervousness growing at what he was about to say. “When you hold me, I feel as if I am in the water's embrace.” 

“And…is that a bad feeling? Feeling like water has hold of you--like it might drag you under?” You asked, voice coming out low as if scared of the answer. 

“No. Never.” He spoke quickly. “I find…peace.” Your heart beat just a bit faster then.

“You don’t let me hug you often. How can I believe you?” You asked, partially teasing so that you could try to regain some semblance of control over yourself. You thought, almost hoped , he would tease you back, but what you hadn’t expected was him to stand and begin pulling his jacket off. “W-what are you doing?” Your eyes flew wide as he kicked his shoes off, leaving him in his patched-up socks. 

Your eyes only grew wider when he pulled his shirt off. The first grayish-white layer came off, followed quickly by his bright red shirt, giving you a full view of that thin, yet undoubtedly strong body he typically kept hidden beneath it all. 

You weren’t completely unfamiliar with seeing him shirtless. You had once lived at The Last Drop and the boys had a tendency to sleep in nothing but their boxers. 

But it didn’t matter because you hadn’t seen him in such a way in years . And you couldn’t help yourself as you looked over every inch of exposed skin. Drank in every scar, bruise, and lean plain he was made up of. Drank in that blush that grew richer and spread down the sides of his neck.

Couldn’t help but feel yourself grow restless at the sight of him.  

“Silco, what are--what are you doing? ” You repeated, not knowing what else to say in that moment. 

“I can’t swim.” And before you could ask another question or shout at him to stop, he was cannonballing into your pool. You panicked at his warning, diving instantly after him. 

It didn’t take you long to find him, your magic helping you feel for him in the darkness. You quickly grabbed and yanked him back to the surface, where he gave a gasp for air. 

“What the fuck!” You hissed, struggling a bit to keep both of you above the surface. To ease the struggle you commanded the waters to flow beneath him to keep him up. But he didn’t seem at all bothered by this, because the sound of his laughter filled your ears. 

Laugher that had your annoyance dissipating nearly all at once.

“Since when can you not swim?” You shouted as you began to swim him across the small pool till your feet found the sandy bottom in the shallows. You watched him move a bit of his long hair that had fallen out of his bun behind his ear as he found his footing. 

A loose bit of hair your fingers itched in their want to move for him.

“Since forever.” He spoke between his dying laughter. 

“Well get ready 'cause I’m going to teach you. Ridiculous.” You huffed with a playful shake of your head. You knew he was stubborn and hesitant to ask for anything for himself but this was something you could have taught him a long time ago. 

You had taught Sevika to swim so she wouldn’t be so nervous to sail on your Boss’ ship. Taught Vander and even helped teach Viktor, despite his leg. 

Swimming was essential. It could make the difference between life and death. Especially since your friend group was always messing around on the docks. 

You went to pull your arm away from where you had it wrapped around his waist, but Silco grabbed your forearm, stopping you. Your skin began to burn so hot you thought it might evaporate the water clinging to it. 

“If you insist.” His voice came out softer than you would have thought it would. 

Why was--you were again confused. 

Confused about him jumping into your pool and about why he was trying to be so…so close to you all of a sudden. 

“Yeah. I do.” You playfully snapped back. Silco’s lips pulled into an easy smile, his fingers drawing lazy circles over your skin that was making your brain buzz loudly . Making you feel all fidgety on the inside. 

Making you suddenly remember he was shirtless. That you were practically shirtless except for the ratty sports bra you typically wore to swim. 

“But…why?” Silco’s seafoam eyes glanced towards your lips as you spoke. 

“To show you.” He simply said. Words that only further confused you. 

“I--show me what?” Silco chuckled, bringing his other hand up to brush more water off your cheek. To hold it. To make your mind switch off and leave you only able to think about him touching your face and arm. At how close he was. 

“To show you that I don’t think anything about you is a bad thing.” Your lips parted on the slightest shuddering inhale. “That I would willingly slip away in your waters because I would be surrounded by you. Because it's you.” 

“Silco--I--” You didn’t know what to say. What to do . Could hardly even think past the pounding in your ears. Not when he was coming closer . 

How was he getting that close? 

Why ? 

“I don’t--I don’t know what to say to that.” You managed to breathe out, eyes flickering from his thin lips to his seafoam eyes which were full of that--that heavy look again. 

A look that, now that you were so close, made you think it was longing . 

Longing for--for you?

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t wish.” You swallowed the growing dryness in your mouth back, only for your lips to all but gasp back open when you felt the tip of his nose brush against yours. 

“What…what are you doing?” You whispered, fingertips digging lightly into the skin of his side as if to ground yourself. To make sure that this was real. That this wasn’t some messed up dream. 

“Showing you.” He whispered right back, breath ghosting over your lips. 

He inched closer ever slowly. So slow as if to give you a moment to say something more. To push him away. To stop him. 

Lips brush against your lips, sending a shock through your spine. A tingling warmth that stuck to your lips and pressed closer till he was kissing you. 

This…this was happening. 

It was finally happening after years of pining after him. After dreaming of this very moment.

It was-- intoxicating . 

Driving you to seek more to sate that drug-like addiction his lips were poured into you. A rough yet gentle hand moved over your skin to find rest on your back. A hand that guided you ever closer . 

And yet--yet even though you finally had it, your brain began shouting at you. 

Why?

Why now? 

Why when he had never once tried before? 

Why on some random Wednesday? 

Why when just last Wednesday you had seen him with another girl? A girl Benzo had laughingly congratulated him on finally winning over. 

Why when he had been pining after someone else?

Why, why, why?

You shoved abruptly away, water sloshing at your legs as if to try and soothe your hurt. 

“Are--” Silco started, breath heavy on his lips from the recent lack of it. “Are you alright?” He sounded almost--nervous. Anxious as you continued to place distance between you and him. 

Game . 

He likes to play the game. You’ve seen it multiple times before. 

He’s bored. He got bored and wanted a challenge. Or maybe he thought he could win the game against you easily? 

You didn’t want to play. Not when you truly had feelings for him. Not when playing would only get your feelings hurt.

Your eyes burned as you started out of the water, grabbing for your bag which held your overlayers. 

“I should get back.” You somehow managed to get out past your tightening throat.

“Back? Get back where?” The sound of the water moving alerted you to Silco’s exiting the pool. You quickly tugged the dress you had packed on over your soaked skin and clothes. 

“I--uh--Sevika. She’s waiting for me.” You pressed your fingers into your right eyelid, trying to rub away that burning. 

“Sevika--wait a moment.” But you didn’t wait. You slung your tote over your shoulder and started for the cave mouth. “Wait--” Silco grabbed your wrist in his hand, fingers feeling even colder thanks to the chill air and their dampness from the water. “I--are you not going to look at me?” You ran your free hand over your mouth to keep him from hearing your elevated and shaky breath. “I didn’t mean--I’m sorry if I overstepped. I just--well I thought…” His voice died out then, leaving his words hanging in the air. 

“It’s okay.” You schooled your face as best you could into that of its normal easy-going features before you turned to face him. His face was in that same calm it usually sat but his eyes--his eyes were raging like a stormy sea. So many emotions flashing through those eyes you could hardly even pick up on one of them. 

“No. No, it’s not. I--I overstepped. I can see I’ve upset you.” You shook your head, all but yanking a smile to your lips. 

“It’s okay. Really. I just--I have to get going.” Silco watched you for a moment longer. A moment when that heaviness returned to wrestle with the rest of those emotions in his eyes. 

“I--why do I feel like you are?” He asked softly. And just as softly you pulled your wrist from his hand. A hand whose fingers dragged along your own as if to weakly try to keep you there. 

“I’m fine.” You held your hand to your chest as if his touch had burned you. As if to keep your heart shielded. “I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Silco watched you as you began to back away again. 

“Okay.” You gave him one last, all too forced smile before rushing from the cave. A rush that grew into a run as your eyes blurred and your mind screamed at you for letting him get so close. Screamed at you for being such a coward.

Silco stood in that dank cave for a while. Just staring at the exit which you had rushed out of. Just thinking and thinking and thinking about what had gone wrong? About why the hell he had tried to kiss you in the first place when you didn’t want to. 

He thought you wanted to. He thought he finally saw that you might want to…with him . 

He was wrong. 

Very much wrong and now he had upset you. 

Very much so. 

Silco pulled his clothes back on and made his way out of your childhood home. 

Why had he done that?

It was so stupid. So, so stu--

Gods but he had wanted to. Had wanted to ever since you had saved him from that gang on the docks when you were teens. Had wanted to ever since you had told him you wouldn’t tell Vander of his failure and meant it. 

He’d chased many girls before. Had caught many of them too, but you-- you …he didn’t want to chase them like he wanted to chase you. You who he would risk drowning in the sea if it meant he could be by your side. 

But…you didn’t want that. Obviously, you didn’t want that. He was just trying to figure out why he had been so stupid in his thinking you might want to chase him back.

The Last Drop was rather packed for a Wednesday night. Though, he guessed it made sense, wanting to have a little fun and drink your sorrows away when cave-ins had started to become more frequent. When enforcers were marching through the streets looking for blood anywhere they could get it. 

Silco glanced towards the table he and his friends usually occupied and instantly regarded doing so. Regretted it because Sevika sat there, blunt between her lips as she smirked triumphantly at an easy win against Connol and Felicia. 

You were nowhere in sight. He scanned over the entirety of the bar to make sure of it. 

“Did she come find you?” Silco couldn’t have stopped his feet and mouth from moving even if he had wanted to. Sevika hardly glanced up at him as Connol began to deal out more cards for a new game. 

“Who?” A frustrated hiss shot from Silco’s grit teeth at Sevika’s words, hand all but slamming down on the table before her. Sevika blinked slowly at this. Blink slowly, leaning back in her seat to look at him near bored.

“Who else would I be looking for?” Sevika pulled her blunt from her lips, blowing a line of smoke into his face he only narrowed his gaze at. 

“I don’t know, Silco. You go lookin’ around for lots of girls.” Silco gruffed, pulling away from the table. 

You hadn’t come to find her. You would be by her side trying and failing to win the game if you had. 

He couldn’t help the small hurt that flashed through his chest at the lie you had given him. At your…your rejection of him. 

His eyes snagged on Felicia then, who was giving Silco an almost knowing smile. Caught on her pink painted fingernails running through Connol’s short cropped hair. 

A small touch. One Silco ached to feel from you. 

“You okay?” Felicia asked, pulling Silco from his hurt-filled thoughts. 

“I’m fine.” Felicia hummed, looking like she didn’t believe him at all.

“You two got into a fight huh?” Silco narrowed his eyes down at his friend. 

“Hardly.” She gave another hum, keeping that amused disbelief plastered on her face.

“Really? She is the only one who gets you all fussy like this.” Normally, Silco would laugh and play along but--but not now. Not tonight. 

“Keep your nose out of it. It’s none of your concern.” Silco snapped too harshly. A harshness Felicia only shrugged at but one that pulled Connol’s rust-colored eyes to look up at him. 

“No need to take it out on Felicia, yeah?” He spoke calmly. A calm that carried a very loud warning to back off within it.

“You heard the guy. Nothing to take out. She’s not bothering him. He’s unbothered.” Sevika chimed in, only making Silco’s mood worse. Felicia rolled her eyes, patting Connol’s shoulder as she started to stand. 

“Let’s talk, Silco.” Felicia nodded towards the bar.

“There is nothing to talk about.” He tried to keep the bite from his voice, but it slashed through his words regardless. “There was no fight. There was nothing. Nothing--” 

You came through the doors then, dripping water everywhere. More water than you had left the cave with.

He knew instantly you must have run to the docks and dove into the waters there. 

“Here we go,” Sevika muttered, only adding fuel to the fire burning in Silco’s belly. 

You caught sight of him and almost paled . Like you thought he wouldn’t be here. Of course, he would be here. He lived here. 

“Go for a swim?” Silco couldn’t stop the words from spilling from his lips as you came closer. 

“Uh--yeah.” You spoke as you came to a stop before him and the table. 

“You said you needed to go find Sevika.” You glanced Sevika’s way like she might give you an answer. An answer Silco knew she wouldn’t provide just by the sound of her shuffling cards. 

“I can’t go swim?” 

“You had just come from a swim.” He could see your frustration beginning to boil in your eyes. Could see he was toeing a very dangerous line and he knew he shouldn’t be this--this hurt. Knew he was only lashing out to lash out but he just couldn’t stop himself. 

Why couldn’t he stop? 

Why couldn’t he just walk away ?

“What does it matter to you?” You quickly questioned back. 

“It matters because you lied .” He responded just as fast. You rolled your eyes at him.

“I’m not in the mood for this.” You huffed, but Silco wasn’t done. 

“If you lied about such a simple thing as going to see a friend, then how do I know you aren’t lying about other things?” Stop . He needed to stop but his hurt was too strong. Was awakening his anger which he had been trying to keep under control ever since he was a kid.

“What--” You have a huff in your own anger. “If I lied then you lied.” 

“There was no lie.” You watched him for a long moment. A moment that had your own hurt flash through your eyes. A hurt he had seen flashing through them when you had left earlier. 

“I am not in the mood for your game, Silco. Never have been.” You all but hissed at him. Game? What game? He didn’t know what you were talking about. “But there are plenty here that might want to give it a go.” Silco pulled closer so that he could lean down to catch your eyes fully. 

He thought of your lips. Of how soft they had felt against his. How they held a bit of salt from the waters you both had just swam through. How you had kissed him back .

Why had you kissed him back? Why did you run away?

“And what is that supposed to mean?” You bore your dagger-sharp anger right back into his eyes. 

“It means go find someone to fuck and leave me be.” Silco felt those daggers skewer right through him at your words. 

“Maybe I will.” Again that hurt flashed through your eyes. Hurt you quickly masked with anger. 

“Go do it then.” You shot back. 

“Fine.” Silco shrugged. 

“Fine.” You mimicked. Neither of you moved. Not until Vander’s voice filled the space between you.

“What’s goin’ on you two?” You were the first to look away. He watched your eyes shift when they fell onto Vander. Soften.

Oh , it made his blood boil. Made his fists clenched so tight his fingernails dug into his palms.

“I was just leaving.” You pulled a half smile to your lips that had Vander sighing.

“You just got here, sweethea--”

“Don’t call her that.” Silco snapped before he could even think. Vander turned his cool, gray eyes onto him then, a frown pulling deeply at his lips.

A finger was shoved into Silco’s chest, a small pain blooming there. It was you and you looked very much over his poor behavior. 

“He can call me whatever the fuck he wants to call me.” You bit, pressing your finger harder into him. “You don’t get any say in that.” 

“Oh yes, I--”

“ Enough ,” Vander commanded, cutting Silco off from saying anything further. “What the hell’s got you two like this now?” 

“Nothing!” You and Silco both hissed. You both turned to find the other's eye again. 

Hurt . That’s all he saw in your eyes. 

Gods Silco was an ass. Gods Silco had messed up. 

“Nothing happened.” You spoke in a too- quiet voice. Said it like you were speaking directly to Silco. Your finger fell away from his chest then. He wanted to grab your wrist to keep it there, but his body couldn’t seem to move. “I just came to say hi. I’m…busy.” Vander sighed through his nose at your words, but nodded. 

“Alright, sweetheart.” The nickname had always grated at Silco’s nerves, but it shredded at them tonight. 

Silco watched you walk back through the bar. Watched you slam open the doors and let them slam shut behind you. 

He almost ran after you. He should have run after you but…he was still too angry. Too hurt. Too stubborn .

Felicia gave Connol another loving pat on the shoulder before rushing after you herself, not sparing him a single glance as she left. Sevika grumbled at this, throwing the cards back into the table. 

“What happened?” Vander asked again, voice more stern then it had been with you around. Silco waved him off. 

“You heard her. Nothing.” He made to walk past Vander to head to his room, but his brother grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. 

“You two butt heads a lot. Enough I can see this was different.” Silco yanked his arm from Vander’s hold on a scoff.

“Leave out of it.” 

“You made a move on her?” Silco leveled Vander with a look that had made many before turn tails and beat it. But not him. Not his brother. 

The worst part was that Vander had always hit the nail on the head when it came to Silco’s feelings for you. 

“Just talk to her. Tell her what you're feeling . ” Vander had told Silco many many times over the span of time they’d known you. Silco had always brushed his brother off. Always denied his feelings for you. But Vander was no fool. He knew. 

“Nothing happened.” Silco insisted, though his voice having lost a bit of its bite was a sure give away that something did . 

“I hope to the gods you meant it. She’s our family . Not someone you can have your fun with and leave.” He let go of Silco’s arm then. 

He wanted to hiss sharp words at his brother. Wanted to use the man as his own personal punching bag, but Silco’s feet were moving before they even caught up with his brain. 

They brought him up the stairs, down the small hallways, and up onto the roof where he fit a cigarette between his lips and watched as you marched off back through the dark streets. 

His lips itched to call out for you to come and have a smoke with him. To come sit with him and talk about anything . 

But again, he didn’t. Just watched and willed the heavy smoke filling his lungs to ease the onslaught of thoughts and feelings rushing through him.

Nothing.

There has always been nothing.

Though it didn’t hurt any less, knowing he could never have you.

Previous | Next

[planetpedri]

Hi!! Can i request for a pedri fic. About a fluffy argument. The reader is a skincare enthusiast and is very serious about sunscreen and often told Pedri to put it on. But Pedri keep on forgetting and care less about it and got a bit of sunburn and reader is angry at him and ignoring him.

Tuesday waltz — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend never seems to listen to you, but it was time he finally paid the price.

Word count: 355+

Disclaimer/s: banter , fluff

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOML PEDRO GONZÁLEZ LÓPEZ🫦💕 this was lowk so half assed sorry

The heat of the sun beat down on your shoulders, which you’d just freshly lathered sunscreen onto. Spending a weekend in Tenerife with Pedri’s family was always fun, except for when your boyfriend didn’t listen to your advice.

“Ouch! Don’t—Fernando!” Pedri snapped, swatting his brother’s hand off his shoulder. “That hurt!”

Rolling your eyes, you snap the top of your sunscreen bottle closed. “Well, if you would’ve just listened to me..”

Pedri scowls in your direction, “I forgot!”

“You mean to tell me, you don’t listen to your girlfriend?” Fernando quirks an eyebrow, adding fuel to the fire. “A shame, truly. I’m so sorry.” He nods his head in your direction.

Your lip curls, “thank you!”

Pedri gawks at the interaction. “What the hell is going on? I forget once!”

“You forget all the time.” You huff, reaching for your book and Airpods. Pedri’s complaint’s and pleads drown out with the music that blasts into your ears.

Sighing contently, you ignore the man and open your book. Peace and quiet only lasts a few moments before Pedri is shaking your arm, whining for you to look at him.

With an annoyed look, you take out one Airpod. “What!?”

“Sunscreen? Please..?” He gives you a shameful smile, which you roll your eyes at.

“It’s not going to do much now. Go inside and ask your mom for some Aloe Vera. It’ll soothe the ache and cool your skin. Don’t go in the sun till it’s dry—“

“Okay! Okay!” Pedri interjects, hopping off his lounge chair, bending down to place a kiss on the top of your head. “Sorry.” He murmurs, dragging out the ‘Y’.

Waving him away, you mumble a, “yeah, yeah.” Before opening your book again. “Next time listen to your girlfriend, then you wouldn’t have these problems.”

Pedri’s tongue pokes his cheek, but he lets out an amused laugh. “I know! You’re always right and I am always wrong. Thank you for your expert advice.”

“Go inside, loser.” You grin up at him, pointing with your thumb to the house.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future Pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @sakashq @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie @joaoflms @hrts4havertz

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (5)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 5.8k

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: mature language, mentions of an injury, jungkook is drowning in the sea of denial, heavy angst, misunderstandings, disagreements

A/N: well, i don't have much to say about this chapter. however, i am making a taglist, so please let me know if you want to be added <3 thank u for making it this far into the series, stay tuned for more !!

part 5: gears and vines of tension

You absently twirl the ramen in your bowl, your chopsticks moving in slow, deliberate circles as a heavy sigh slips past your lips. The warm steam rises from the broth, but it does little to soothe the tight knot forming in your chest.

Just an hour ago, the townhall meeting about the town fair ended, and now you find yourself seated at a small booth in a Japanese restaurant just around the corner, surrounded by your friends who, as usual, are keenly aware of what's going on in your mind..

You try to focus on the food, the familiar scent of miso and soy sauce, but your mind keeps drifting back to one thought: Jungkook. The idea of working with him for the fair that is set to happen two months from now, has lodged itself in your brain, and you can’t shake it off. Of all the people in this town, it had to be him, the one person who managed to make your blood boil with nothing more than a glance.

It's almost amusingly comical, if it weren’t so frustrating. The universe, it seems, has a twisted sense of humor, and today, it has decided that you must work side-by-side with him, out of all people.

The sheer irony of it... the fact that you, someone who prides yourself on peace, order, and avoiding conflict at all costs, are now paired with Jungkook for something as important as the town fair. It gnaws at you.

You feel your grip on the chopsticks tighten, the wood digging into your palms as you try to concentrate on anything other than the growing sense of dread in the pit of your stomach. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t escape the reality that you’ll have to spend an extended period of time with him, and that thought alone is enough to make you want to scream.

From across the table, your friends are watching you with knowing glances, their eyes flickering back and forth between you and the others. They know exactly what’s going on in your mind, and judging by the subtle smirks on their faces, they’re enjoying this more than they probably should.

Taehyung leans forward, a grin spreading across his face as he watches you with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Teaming up with Jungkook for the fair? Oh, this is gonna be good.” he teases, the amusement practically oozing from his words. His grin grows wider as he waits for your response, clearly relishing your discomfort.

Seokjin chimes in next, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d have to cooperate with the infamous biker boy. What’s next? You two finally getting along?” His eyebrows rise dramatically as he leans back, laughing.

You slump further into your chair, your fingers still gripping the chopsticks so tightly that you feel like you might snap them in half. A tired sigh escapes your lips. “I highly doubt it.” you mutter under your breath, your frustration clear in your tone.

“It’s bad enough I’m stuck with him for the fair, but do I have to hear this from you guys too?” You look up at your friends, meeting their teasing eyes with a halfhearted glare, but it’s impossible to stay mad at them for long. They’re enjoying this too much, and you can’t help but feel like the punchline of some inside joke.

“Come on, Y/N...” Namjoon says, his voice soft and rational, like he’s trying to calm you down. “You two have history, right? Maybe this is a good chance to... I don’t know, put the past behind you??” he suggests.

You shake your head almost immediately, a quiet laugh escaping you. “It’s not that simple.” you reply quickly, the words tumbling out without thinking.

“We don’t get along, Joon. This isn’t some... rom-com where we magically start clicking after a few awkward encounters. This is real life. And in real life, I can’t just forget about everything that’s happened between us.” you pause, taking a deep breath.

“Sure, sure,” Juwon adds with a teasing smile, her tone a little too playful. “Just don’t kill him before the fair is over, okay?” She laughs, but there’s an edge of genuine curiosity in her voice. She's not sure whether you’re joking or not.

You roll your eyes, half-annoyed and half-amused. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” you reply dryly, your voice thick with sarcasm. But even as the words leave your mouth, you can feel your thoughts slipping into darker territory.

The teasing continues as your friends rally around you, throwing playful jabs and remarks that only seem to make things worse. It’s hard to stay angry at them when they genuinely believe there’s some kind of positive outcome buried somewhere in this mess.

They see the potential for you and Jungkook to patch things up, and while part of you knows they mean well, another part of you can’t shake the nagging feeling that this situation is just a train wreck waiting to happen.

You might not be as optimistic as they are, but they’re all so convinced something good could come out of this, and it makes your frustration feel even more intense.

//

Jungkook, on the other hand, feels just as conflicted, though he’d never admit it. The whole town fair situation is just another annoying obstacle in his otherwise meticulously curated routine.

He’s not keen on the idea of working with you, at all. In fact, the very thought gnaws at him, like a thorn embedded deep inside, constantly prodding at his sense of control.

He’s already juggling a whirlwind of emotions—feelings he doesn’t fully understand, confusions he’s too afraid to face. And if that wasn’t difficult enough already, now he has to stick by you and actually work with you. All those stolen glances, those subtle moments of help, the cold silences... it all amounts to this, and he has no idea how to deal with it.

Even though both of you haven’t fought in a while, the tension still hangs thick in the air when you're in the same vicinity. It’s so glaringly obvious, like a dark cloud that refuses to dissipate.

The truth is, Jungkook has grown to admire you from a distance, but that only makes the situation more complicated. His feelings for you are a constant ache in his chest, something he can’t quite untangle. And now, here he is, stuck with you in a situation that feels like the last thing he wants.

But no matter how much he wishes it weren’t true, when Mr. Kwon’s words echo in his mind, he knows there’s no escaping it. The town fair is something both of you will have to navigate together, whether you guys like it or not.

Still, that doesn’t mean his friends are going to let him off the hook so easily.

“Seems like you have no choice but to get along with Y/N, huh?” Yoongi’s voice is low, almost teasing, but Jungkook can hear the hidden challenge beneath the surface. It’s a comment that cuts deeper than he wants to admit.

Jungkook scowls, his fingers tightening around the soda can he’d just grabbed, the metal crinkling under his grip. “Shut up, hyung.” he mutters through clenched teeth, the words more defensive than he intended. "I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but we’re just going to work together, and that's it." he states, trying and failing to keep his voice neutral. The words taste like ash in his mouth.

“Yeah, sure.” Hoseok adds, leaning in with that familiar, mischievous grin of his. “Just working. The way you look at her says otherwise, though.” His tone is light, but it’s clear he’s enjoying Jungkook’s discomfort a little too much.

“Shut up.” Jungkook snaps, his irritation flaring. He can’t stand their constant teasing, the way they poke at something he’s not ready to face. It’s as though they can see right through him, and it makes him want to retreat even further into himself. And since, he’s been avoiding you... avoiding everything about you like it’s some kind of plague, having to confront it head-on seems impossible.

Jimin, however, is the one who really gets under his skin. “I’ve noticed all those lingering looks you give her. I get it... you’re still holding on to something. But come on, man. It’s been ages. Just face it and talk to her.”

“That’s none of your business.” Jungkook growls, his voice low and thick with frustration. His temper is a simmering volcano, and it doesn’t take much for it to erupt. He hates that they can see through him so easily, as if every thought, every feeling, is written on his face.

And worst of all, he doesn’t want to think about you. Not now, not ever. But there you are, constantly in the back of his mind, disrupting his every thought.

“Maybe this is your chance to… fix things.” Yoongi muses, his voice taking on an almost knowing tone, like he understands something Jungkook isn’t ready to admit to himself.

Jungkook remains silent, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turn white. His jaw is set in a firm line, but inside, he feels a stirring unease. Fix things? With you? No, that’s not what he wants. Not at all.

But something about the space you’ve left in his life lately, the absence of your presence,,, it’s bothering him more than it should. It feels... wrong. And he can’t figure out why.

The emptiness in his chest is growing, and it’s eating away at him. He tries to ignore it, to shove it back down where it belongs, but the truth keeps creeping up on him and he’s not ready to face this. Not yet.

//

When the meetings finally start, you and Jungkook sit across from each other, a few feet apart, neither of you daring to breach the silence in the community center. The air between the two of you feels charged, thick with tension, like an invisible wall keeping you at arm's length.

Each glance, each shift of position, carries an unspoken weight, and even the faint sound of your breathing feels too loud. Every word spoken feels like an effort, a conscious choice to avoid snapping, but it’s almost impossible not to.

The first task at hand is the layout. You, the florist, are in charge of the decoration, but you know full well that it’s a collaborative effort, especially with Jungkook needing to ensure the space is functional. You’ve done this before, worked under pressure, but with him? It feels different. The stakes are higher, the frustration more palpable.

“So..." you start, forcing your voice to remain steady and calm, even as the anticipation lingers in your chest. “We need to figure out where the booths will be placed. The flower arrangements need to complement the flow of traffic, and we can’t block the stage view.” You turn to him, meeting his gaze for a brief moment before quickly averting your eyes, as though the intensity of the connection might shatter the thin facade you’ve managed to maintain.

Jungkook, however, seems unfazed. His eyes flicker briefly towards you, but it’s clear his attention is elsewhere. “Fine.” he mutters flatly, his voice devoid of any real emotion. He scrolls through his phone as if he’s in a different world entirely. “Tell me where to put the tents.” he says.

You feel a flicker of irritation at his nonchalant response, but you force yourself to stay composed. “It’s not that simple.” you reply, your voice sharper than intended. “You have to work with the dimensions. The booths need to be spaced properly to avoid crowding. Otherwise, the flow will be a mess.” you explain.

He hums in acknowledgment, but his focus never leaves the screen of his phone, his posture relaxed, almost too casual. He gives you nothing to go on, no acknowledgment that he’s actually listening, and yet, he doesn’t argue.

He’s making an effort, or so it seems, but the effort feels as half-hearted as his tone. You lay out the details of the booth placement, watching as his eyes dart back to his phone, the quick flicks of his thumb on the screen like a rhythm you’ve grown all too familiar with. It’s frustrating, to say the least.

Still, he doesn’t outright ignore you. That’s something, right? A small victory, perhaps, but not enough to quell the simmering unease that’s growing within you. He’s pretending not to care, pretending like this is just another mundane task in his life. And maybe, in his mind, it is. But in yours? It’s so much more than that.

//

The following days unfold in a similar pattern. The meetings don't happen every single day. Maybe just two to three times a week. Whenever you sit down to discuss, you both speak in clipped tones, each of you trying to push your own agenda without crossing the invisible line into conflict.

It’s a game of subtle manipulations, of measuring your words carefully so as not to give anything away. Jungkook does his best to remain distant, as if he’s above it all... his expressions impassive, his body language indifferent. It’s the perfect mask, and he wears it well, making it nearly impossible to gauge what he’s really thinking.

And yet, despite the stone-cold exterior, you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more beneath the surface. You catch the fleeting glances he throws your way when he thinks you’re not looking, the slight tension in his shoulders when you speak, and the subtle shift in his tone when he responds.

He’s trying to remain uninterested, trying to pretend he doesn’t care. But the little cracks in his armor? They don't fully hide from you.

However, neither of you is willing to make the first move. The walls you’ve both built around yourselves remain as sturdy as ever. The resentment, though unspoken, hangs in the air, a silent presence that neither of you dares to address. The past still looms large between you, an unspoken history that neither of you is ready to confront.

And so, you continue to go through the motions, working side by side but never truly together. The tension remains thick, like a fog you can’t see through, and the distance between you only seems to grow with each passing day.

For Jungkook, the real battle wasn’t the fair planning... it was you.

Every time your voice echoed in his ears, or your eyes briefly met his, it felt like a thousand invisible threads tangled around his chest, pulling him in every direction at once.

He didn’t understand it. He couldn’t. He tried so hard to stay indifferent, to bury it all beneath layers of cold indifference, but no matter how hard he fought, you had a way of slipping past his defenses.

The harder he tried to focus on the task at hand like the booths, the layout, the logistics, the more you seemed to invade his thoughts. It was maddening, the way you lingered in his mind even when he tried to distract himself.

The sound of your voice, the soft rhythm in your words, the way your eyes sparkled when you were engaged in something you loved... everything about you pulled at him, and he hated it.

He hated how easily he found himself drawn to you, despite everything. Despite the history between you, despite the distance he worked so hard to maintain. He had a job to do. He wasn’t here for this. He wasn’t here for you.

But it didn’t stop him from noticing.

He would notice the way your hair fell in soft waves, catching the light just enough to make it look like something from a dream.

He would notice the curve of your smile as you spoke to your friends sometimes, right before looking at him as he waits for you to head towards the community center together, and the way your smile instantly drops when you spot him makes his chest tighten in ways he didn’t know how to explain.

He would notice how your fingers gently caressed the petals of the flowers you arranged, each movement graceful and deliberate, like everything you touched turned into something beautiful.

It was all so distracting. And in that distraction, Jungkook found himself irritated by his own reaction. He hated how you made his heart race with the simplest of gestures, how his breath hitched when your gaze lingered on him a fraction longer than necessary.

He hated how much you affected him, how your presence seemed to make everything else fade away, as if the world revolved around you and him, suspended in the space between words.

He tried to shut it out. He tried so hard to ignore the flutter in his chest, to keep his focus sharp and steady, but each time you spoke, each time you glanced his way, it became harder. He tried to play it cool, tried to act like none of it mattered, but the truth was... it did matter. It mattered more than he wanted it to.

He despised how beautiful you were, how effortlessly you seemed to captivate every room you entered, how every little thing you did seemed to leave an imprint on his soul. You were the storm he couldn’t weather, the fire he couldn’t outrun, and he hated that he couldn’t escape it.

Every glance, every moment of interaction, felt like a slow burn, a tension he couldn’t release no matter how hard he tried. And the worst part? He couldn’t even find it in himself to want to escape it anymore.

Maybe, deep down, he didn’t want to. Maybe he was tired of pretending that it didn’t matter, tired of trying to push down the feelings that seemed to bubble up from the depths of his chest, no matter how hard he fought them.

There were nights when he would lay awake, the weight of the day pressing down on him, and he could still hear your voice echoing in his mind, still see the way your eyes flickered with a hint of something... something he couldn’t quite place. Something that made him think maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one feeling this tension.

But he never asked. He couldn’t. He didn’t know how to start.

So instead, he buried it, deep down where it could fester. He buried the way his heart seemed to beat a little faster when you walked into the room, and the way his thoughts would drift to you even when he tried to focus on something else.

He buried the guilt of knowing he was avoiding it, of knowing that he was pushing away something that, in some twisted way, he was beginning to want more than anything else.

Because, no matter how much he tried to pretend he didn’t care, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it was all just a fleeting distraction, he was lying to himself.

He cared. More than he should. And it terrified him.

//

The days continue to blur into one another, each meeting a subtle repetition of the last. But as time passes, you both start to find a rhythm. The awkward silences between you become less frequent, and though the tension never fully dissipates, it becomes something more manageable.

Now, with only one month left for the town fair, your tasks seemed to intertwine more seamlessly, and while Jungkook still maintains that nonchalant, almost aloof demeanor, there’s a strange sense of understanding that develops between you two. It’s not friendly, but it’s cooperative, a balance struck somewhere between resentment and reluctant teamwork.

You start to notice the little changes. The way Jungkook no longer scrolls through his phone during every conversation, or how he no longer avoids your gaze completely. He still doesn’t speak much, but when he does, his tone is less dismissive, more practical, like he’s acknowledging that you’re both in this together, for better or for worse.

You can’t quite tell if he’s faking it or if something is actually shifting beneath the surface, but it doesn’t matter. You focus on the work, pushing through the awkwardness because at least, for now, the process is getting done.

As the days progress, there’s a certain ease in the way you both begin to collaborate. You don’t always agree, and you still bicker over details... where exactly the tents should be placed, what color scheme will work best with the space, and how to arrange the flower displays.

But the exchanges are less sharp, less pointed. It’s as if the constant friction between you has smoothed out into something more tolerable.

You start to enjoy the process in small ways, even though Jungkook remains stoic through it all. The occasional glance exchanged across the table, the rare, almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment when you make a valid point... those moments feel like victories.

And just when you start to think that maybe this partnership, while not ideal, could work out after all... just when the days seem to stretch into a predictable rhythm and the weight of the past starts to seem less suffocating, you're pulled out of your trance as you glance up at Jungkook who barges into the community center, his shoulders harshly pushing the door open.

Today, you and Jungkook were supposed to sit with Mr. Kwon and a few other committee members to discuss the progress of your planning and work. They're all seated around the table as they watch Jungkook walk inside.

There’s something off about him today. His usual confident stride is replaced by a more cautious pace, and the first thing you notice is the bruise on his cheek... a faint purple mark that looks like it’s only just begun to heal.

Your gaze travels down, noticing the bandages wrapped around his knuckles. For a split second, your stomach churns. You want to ask, to understand, but before you can even take a breath, he’s sitting down without a word, his usual aloofness firmly in place.

You saw him two days ago, and he was completely fine so you look at him, wondering what exactly happened between the interval.

He doesn’t meet your eyes, though you can feel the tension in the air between you. It’s as if the bruise on his face, the bandages on his hands, are somehow adding to the already thick layer of silence between the two of you. His presence fills the room, but in a way that feels more distant than ever.

You’re suddenly acutely aware of the tightness in your chest, the way your heart begins to race, but you force yourself to push those thoughts aside. It’s none of your business, you remind yourself. He’s clearly not in the mood to talk, and you have no right to pry into his life. Your ego keeps you silent, your lips pressed together as you try to focus on the meeting at hand.

The conversation begins, and for a moment, the work distracts you from the storm of emotions swirling inside. But the normal rhythm of the meeting is shattered when a disagreement arises.

It starts with something small... where to position the flowers around the booths, which side will get the best sunlight. The back-and-forth is nothing new, but today, it feels different. Jungkook’s voice is sharper than usual, his irritation more obvious.

“No, it’s wrong.” he snaps, his tone clipped and harsh as he shoots down your suggestion. “I don’t care what you think, it’s just not going to work.” he spits out.

You feel your frustration rising, the familiar tension between you flaring up once again. But this time, it’s worse. Usually it's just the two of you, but today you have spectators. His words hit a nerve, and before you can stop yourself, you shoot back, your voice laced with annoyance. “You don’t have to be so rude about it.”

Jungkook doesn’t back down. His eyes flash with a sudden intensity, his jaw clenching as he leans forward, almost daring you to push him further. “If you stopped pretending to know what you’re doing and actually listened to someone who does, maybe you wouldn’t be so completely useless.”

The words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, everything goes silent in the room. You feel your blood run cold as the sting of his words sinks in. There’s a moment of disbelief, followed by a sharp surge of anger.

You didn’t expect him to snap like that, especially not in front of everyone. But the truth is, you don’t care about the others in the room right now. All you care about is the unbearable pain in your chest that his words have left behind.

Without thinking, you stand up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor, the noise cutting through the tense silence. You don’t even spare him a glance as you turn to leave, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

Every step feels like it’s pulling you further away from the meeting, from him, and from the tight knot of emotions you’ve been trying to ignore for so long. The door slams behind you with a resounding finality.

Mr. Kwon and the others in the room are left in stunned silence, but Jungkook doesn’t move. He doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t say a word. He just sits there, staring at the empty space where you had been, the tension now painfully thick enough to cut with a knife.

He doesn’t know what’s worse... the physical pain in his body from the fight with the rival gang he just had before coming here, or the way his words just pushed you further away. But he’s not ready to admit that. Not to anyone. Not even to himself.

"Well..." Mr. Kwon starts, carefully eyeing Jungkook as he glances at the other members. " A little bit of a disagreement, I suppose." he breathes out.

"Let's talk about this calmly in the next meeting." he finally says, after a few seconds as the others silently agree with him. He stands up, softly patting Jungkook on the shoulder, before he exits the community center with the others.

It’s clear that something has shifted. And whatever fragile understanding you had begun to build between the two of you, now seems like a distant memory, lost in the wake of that one, harsh moment. Jungkook doesn’t know how to fix it, but somehow, he knows he’ll have to face it. Eventually.

//

The moon hangs heavy in the sky, casting its silvery glow across the empty streets below. Jungkook walks towards his shop, hands buried deep in his pockets, but there’s no warmth in the gesture. His body moves, but his mind churns, restless, unwilling to give him the peace he so desperately craves.

The meeting replays in his mind over and over, each iteration like a fresh stab to his chest. He can’t forget the sharpness of his words, the way they cut into you, when he knew better than anyone that you did absolutely nothing to deserve it.

A long, heavy sigh escapes him, but it offers no relief. The tension in his shoulders feels like an unshakeable weight, a burden he can’t cast aside. It wasn’t your fault, none of it.

You had no part in the chaos of his morning... a rush of irate customers, a critical delivery gone wrong, and an absurd brawl with a rival biker gang over something that, in hindsight, seemed like pure stupidity.

Yet, somehow, you ended up on the receiving end of all his frustration, a target for everything he’d been bottling up. Guilt gnaws at him as he walks, the sharp taste of regret lingering on his tongue.

Passing your shop, a soft, golden light spills from the glass door. His steps falter, a flicker of curiosity cutting through the wall his pride has built. It's late, and yet you're still here. He pauses for a moment, unsure, torn between his ego and the pull of something deeper. And then, against all reason, he steps closer, pressing his face to the cool glass, eyes narrowing to catch a glimpse.

The sight of you makes something tighten in his chest. Your back is facing him, but your shoulders tremble, faintly at first, but enough to set his pulse racing. His breath catches, and then the realization hits him like a punch. You’re crying.

His heart slams against his ribs, the sight of your silent sorrow unraveling him in ways he can't fully understand. His legs go weak, and the weight of his regret threatens to crush him. He's the cause of your tears, the reason for this moment of pain.

He stands frozen, torn between guilt and fear... fear that his presence will only make things worse. But the guilt surges, a relentless tide that drowns everything else.

His knees threaten to give away under the pressure of his own actions, and for a fleeting moment, he considers turning away, disappearing into the night. But the ache in his chest keeps him rooted to the spot.

Finally, he exhales, slow and deliberate, and pushes the door open, the soft chime of the bell echoing in the stillness. For a heartbeat, he wonders if you’ll hear it, if you’ll acknowledge his presence.

He steps inside, quiet, careful, as though every movement might break something more fragile than glass. The door closes gently behind him, and he moves closer, inching towards you, but the distance between you both feels like an entire universe.

The words he wants to say get caught in his throat. He doesn’t know if any of them will ever be enough. “Y/N…” His voice cracks, quieter than he intended, raw with the weight of unspoken regret.

You don’t turn around. You don’t flinch. The silence stretches between you like an impassable chasm, and the space feels impossibly wide. His chest tightens further as he watches your back, every muscle in his body aching with the need to fix this, to make it right. But he doesn’t know how.

“Y/N, I…” He swallows, fumbling for words, but none come. He knows an apology won’t undo the damage, but it’s the only thing he has left to offer. “I’m sorry. I...I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I shouldn’t have—”

His words fall short as he sees your shoulders tremble harder, your body shaking with the weight of everything you’ve been holding in. You turn slightly, enough for him to catch the tear tracks on your face, and the sight of them, the way your pain is laid bare before him, pierces him in ways he can’t explain.

“I didn’t mean to … to snap at you like that…” His voice falters, breaking under the strain. He knows it’s too late for his apologies to fix anything. You’ve already heard too much of it, seen too much of his anger.

You wipe your eyes hastily, trying to erase the evidence of your tears, but when you face him fully, there’s nothing but raw pain in your gaze. “No, Jungkook,” you cut him off, your voice trembling with anger but steady, unwavering. “You DON’T get to do this.”

He instinctively steps forward, his hand reaching out, but you step back, sharp and defensive.

“You don’t get to come in here now, after everything, and act like you can fix this with a half-hearted apology!” Your voice rises, shaking with emotion, and the dam finally breaks. “I don’t NEED your apology. I don’t WANT your apology!”

The words hit him like a physical blow, but he doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t try to stop you. He just stands there, feeling the weight of every word, every accusation, land deep in his chest.

“You made me feel small, Jungkook,” you continue, your voice cracking as tears brim in your eyes again. “Ever since you moved next door, that’s ALL you’ve been doing. It’s like you go out of your way to make my life miserable. Everything you say, everything you do, it makes me feel like I’m constantly losing control over the one thing I’ve built with my own hands. Like me and my shop have always been a joke to you.” You pause, breath hitching as you try to steady yourself.

Jungkook knows exactly where this is coming from. He’s the cause of every inch of this. He feels it in his gut, the crushing weight of his mistakes, and he knows he has no right to defend himself. All he can do is stand there and listen.

“You don’t care. You treat me like crap... like I’m just some part of your day that you can lash out at whenever it suits you.” you spit, your voice trembling with fury. “In your world, it’s always about you. Your thoughts, your problems, your emotions... it’s like nothing else... like no else... exists. You never stop to think about how your words affect anyone else. You never stop to think about how your words affect me.”

Your chest heaves with each word, your voice raw with hurt. And as the weight of your anger presses down on him, Jungkook feels a heavy suffocating knot coil in his stomach. This is all his fault.

“You think I don’t have enough to deal with already?” you continue, voice breaking as your tears spill again. “That I need to be the punching bag for your anger? You don’t get to treat me like that, Jungkook. You have no right to make me feel like I’m the problem when you’re the one who’s always pushing people away.”

The words echo in the empty space between you, a finality that’s impossible to ignore. Jungkook stands there, silent, broken. Each word feels like a strike, each accusation hitting him harder than the last. “Every time I think we’re okay, every time I think we can coexist in peace, you give me a million reasons to prove me wrong. You make me feel so fucking stupid for even thinking we could be friends.”

You run your hands through your hair, tears falling like rain as you try to catch your breath, but it’s hard. The storm inside you isn’t over.

A few moments pass in silence, but it’s deafening, suffocating. You close your eyes, letting out a long, strained sigh. “I’ve had enough.” you whisper, voice raw and exhausted. “I can’t do this anymore... Not with you. Just... just get out, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t move. He can’t. He stands there, paralyzed by the weight of his own guilt. No words come, because he knows that nothing he could say will make things better.

You turn away, your shoulders shaking with the weight of everything you’ve just said, and as you walk further away from him, Jungkook knows he’s lost more than just your trust tonight. He reluctantly steps back, still watching you as he moves towards the door. He knows it won't change anything but before he leaves, he still says it. "I'm sorry."

<- part 4 // part 6 ->

series masterlist

taglist: @kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 (let me know if u wanted to be added !!)

[alecvolturiswifeforever]

a kiss for a promise 𝜗𝜚 alec volturi x reader

warnings: none!

tag list: @your-next-daydream @agirllovespancakes @icefrozendeadlyqueen @iloveslasher @pawspurpaw @alecvolturi @kiiwiigii @im-ovulating

a/n: was not expecting to write today but hey ho! this was not proofread so just don’t mention it okay!!!

Staring out into the streets of Volterra you couldn’t help but let out a sigh, basking in the peaceful silence and the soft breeze that greeted your face. The nightlife had died down a while ago and you couldn’t help but feel somewhat relieved. The loudness was never fun to listen to and, it only seemed to remind you of the fact you were stuck up here. In this stupid room of this stupid castle.

It could be worse.

You let out another sigh.

At least you have a nice balcony view.

Completely lost in thought, you failed to hear - and notice - the door opening and closing, yelping with a flinch as a voice spoke from behind you.

“Are you okay?” Alec’s eyes met yours, the unusual flash of concern floating through his red iris’s and spreading across his face into a frown. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I’m good. Thank you.” With a soft inhale you caught your breath, heart still racing slightly in the presence of the deadly twin. He nodded in response, eyeing the space next you. “Can I?”

You gestured for him to stand next to you, mirroring your movements and leaning against the handrail to follow your eye line into the street below. After a moment he broke the silence.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been better.”

You always kept your answers short, not feeling in the mood recently to deeply converse with anyone.

Alec sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Y/N. Please-“

A groan left your lips, turning to face him.

“I’m fine, Alec. Okay?”

He frowned again, not liking the way your voice wavered. “I can tell when you’re lying,”

You scoffed and pushed yourself away from him completely, an attempt to leave however he gently caught your arm before you could. The vampire pulled you back (albeit a little closer to him than you wanted to be right now) and looked down at you in exasperated, voice breathy as he tried to reason with you.

“I just want to help, sweetface. Please.”

His fingers brushed a hair away from your face, and you just about missed the way his eyes fell to your lips before moving back to your eyes. The vampire listened intently as you opened up to him, soft murmurs and grumbles spouting out from you.

“I just don’t get why I have to be stuck in here all the time.”

He sighed, “It’s for your own safety… and ours. Master Aro-“

“Yeah, yeah. He thinks i’ll expose the secret. I’ve heard it all before -“ You rolled your eyes, “But I think if I went around town hollering about vampires I would be locked in a padded cell for life.”

Alec chuckled in response, loosening his grip on your arm and trailing his fingers down your hand. “I am sorry, Y/N.”

It was your turn to frown, shrugging lightly.

“It’s not your fault we were written into the stars by some ancient gods or something.” You giggled to yourself as you realised how silly it truly sounded. A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, happy to see you smiling for the first time since you were placed in the room.

“I’ll talk to them, see if they’ll let you wander for a little bit. Would you like that?”

Your eyes lit up with a gasp, taking his hands in yours with a light bounce.

“You would do that for me? Please?”

He chuckled again with a nod, feeling your hands tug at his own.

“Thank you! Thank you!” You giggled.

Without thinking you leant forward, pressing your soft lips against his own. It was like second nature, the way you connected. The vampire kissed you back, barely moving as if frightened he would hurt you.

Basking in the gentleness for a moment, you quickly came to your senses, realising you had kissed him without even comprehending the action and pulling your lips away from his. Spilling out a slew of apologies you tried your hardest to tug away.

He whined quietly, lifting a hand to cup your cheek with a breathy whisper, “come here.”

Alec pressed his lips against yours once again, rougher than you and previously but still far from hurting you.

You melted into him immediately and the kiss deepened from a peck for just a moment. Your vampire pressed closer to you, trying to steal some of your warmth for himself, the friction of your soft skin against his own sending sparks down his spine, electrifying his thoughts until the only thing on his mind was you. The way you felt pressed against him, the way your hands gently gripped his forearms, the way your lips carefully followed his movements. Everything about you was perfect to him. Perfectly made for him.

Hands moved from your face to your waist, fingertips brushing beneath your shirt and forcing you to pull away with a hiss.

“You’re freezing, Alec!”

He simply smirked back at you, pulling your shirt down to cover your skin fully before tugging you close and resting his chin on top of head.

“Don’t ever try to lie to me again.” He spoke against your hair, pressing a kiss to your head “I’ll make sure they let you out of this room,” And another, this time laying his cheek against your hair after, “I promise.”

[zhoudadudugongjin]

You know what actually no I'm not going to just tag this with Liu Bei and Cao Cao I am gonna explain WHY it is literally them with a full-ass timeline (pulled from their wikipedia pages)

c189 - Liu Bei (aged 28) and Cao Cao (aged 34) first meet on the same side when they join the campaign of the 18 lords against Imperial Chancellor Dong Zhuo, with the shared goal of freeing Liu Bei's distant kid cousin the Emperor of the Han from the tyranny of his regent. Such a noble cause! Could this be the start of a long, solid friendship for life...?

192-194 - A couple of other warlords turn on each other and decide to fight it out, but Liu Bei and Cao Cao back different sides. Liu Bei is completely destroyed in battle by Cao Cao. Their first fallout.

195-196 - Cao Cao beats up a guy called Lü Bu, who then scurries off to take shelter with Liu Bei. But then! Lü Bu stabs Liu Bei in the back, so what does he do? He flees to the capital, which is now under the control of... you guessed it, Cao Cao!

198 Now that Liu Bei and Cao Cao are friends again, they team up together to take Lü Bu down. Cao Cao promotes his old friend to General of the Left and they become best buddies! "Cao Cao treated him with great sympathy. When they went out, they would ride in the same chariot and when they sat, it was on the same mat.[Sanguozhi zhu 13]"

199-201 But! Oh no! There's trouble in paradise! Because now Cao Cao he has the emperor in his pocket and the entire government under his control, just like Dong Zhuo once did. And Liu Bei does not like that!! Because it is a betrayal of all his noble ideals!! So while still living in the capital and wiling away his time gardening, he joins a secret coup to attempt to assassinate Cao Cao and free the Emperor (which fails). It is also around this time that Cao Cao makes his famous quote: "Currently among the heroes of the empire, there is only you and I." So romantic.

Tired of being kept as Cao Cao's pet, Liu Bei takes the excuse of leading a campaign to run away from the capital. Cao Cao sends spies after him, but begrudgingly has to let him and his hot valiant generals go.

201-208 These are the years where, hurt by betrayal, Cao Cao chases Liu Bei across the country and whoops his ass several times, stealing his provinces and commanderies and forcing him to take shelter under various lords. During this period he also steals one of Liu Bei's sworn brothers (Guan Yu) and tries to turn him into his sugar baby, but that's a whole different story... Their final big fight in this period was the famous Battle of the Red Cliffs, where Liu Bei allied with Sun Quan in the south and together they burnt Cao Cao's army to ash.

208-217 We enter the prime years of the Three Kingdoms era. The eternal squabble between Cao Cao, Liu Bei and Sun Quan, and we learn why you should never have three children. Because they will endlessly gang up on each other 2v1. It is also during this period that Cao Cao declares himself King of Wei, still with the rightful emperor of the Han under his thumb.

218-219 - Liu Bei and Cao Cao get involved in another big fight over Hanzhong Commadery and Liu Bei wins and also declares himself King (of Hanzhong).

220 - Cao Cao finally dies, aged 65. But it's not over, it never will be. Liu Bei continues fighting against Cao Cao's son, who deposes the Emperor and claims himself as the son of Heaven. When he learns that his poor distant cousin Emperor Xian is dead, Liu Bei then ALSO declares himself Emperor because at least HE is a scion of the imperial house, dammit!

223 - Liu Bei finally also dies, aged 62. But his campaigns against the northern kingdom of Wei do not. His Prime Minister Zhuge Liang continues the fight until his death in 234, at which point his protege Jiang Wei picks up the mantle and makes no less than ELEVEN failed attacks against the Cao family before also dying.

In the end, they are all defeated by this guy:

i love it when two adult men have a homoerotic teenage girl friendship and falling out

[lokidjarin-7567]

Folks.. I am already 4k words into a Viktor x fem!reader smutty, angsty, fluffy one shot and ngl, I’m insanely proud of it. Trying to get the right balance of his character has been so enjoyable; I’ve seen so so many mischaracterisations of him so I really want to do him justice. Anyway, let me know if you’re also in love with this man and want to be on the tag list lol, I’m working on it tirelessly so it will be out in the next day or so I reckon. And it will be long oops - I simply don’t have the time to keep up more than one multi-chapter fic so I have to try and fit all my adoration of him into one shots 😭

[illbegottenfaith]

lucky pt 3 - theo nott x reader

Theo doesn’t seem to care about you, and you can only lie to yourself that it doesn’t bother you for so long

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

a/n - the final part! so happy to finally write a happy ending :’) wasn’t planning on writing this until my finals were over but um here we are 🙈

tropes/warnings - tw smoking, a lil slapstick comedy ft the other slytherin boys, slight platonic hurt/comfort, angst, soft ‘smut’ (quite mild idt it warrants an 18+ tag)

word count - 3.4k

Two can play a game.

A week had passed since you submitted your Potions project, and after that one night of Theo staying up to help you, things went back to going from bad to worse. What were once paltry tiffs had now disappeared altogether. Theo attended and left lessons as if you didn’t exist. And you supposed you didn’t. At least, not to him.

Ivy worried over you, bless her. She’d noticed how listless and distracted you’d gotten, how much more prone you were to staying holed up in your room, how exhausted you seemed by the most mundane tasks. But this was something even she couldn’t help with. No one could help, you decided mournfully, resting your head against your dorm’s cool window pane. So here you were, staring out the window at 6.30 am on a Monday morning with irritated and aching eyes after a restless night of tossing and turning.

That was when you decided that the only thing there was to be done in a situation like this was to do what you did best - going head-to-head with Theodore Nott. He wasn’t the only one who could play at being emotionally avoidant, and it would be a cold day in hell before you let Theodore Nott best you in anything, including this.

And ignore him you did. You didn’t know or care if he noticed, but soon your already limited interactions became highly unabsorbing and apathetic. You barely acknowledged him in your shared classes. You matched every careless toss of his head with one of your own. As little as Theo cared, you could care even less. 

Finals came and went. The morning after your last paper Ivy came barging into your room, demanding you come for an end-of-semester gathering by the Great Lake the next day. No amount of begging or burying your head in your pillow seemed to deter her. She was determined to see you there even if she had to drag you out herself, the recluse that you had become. She finally left after you very unsportingly relented and unsuccessfully tossed a book at her head.

You were already regretting being worn down by the next morning when you were deciding what to wear. Was Theo going to be there? Not that it mattered. You weren't about to pick an outfit around a guy who may or may not be present.

You met Ivy and Katie near the castle entrance and once you started walking down to the lake, you started feeling better about your decision. The weather was surprisingly cooperative and it was perfect picnic weather, if a little windy. It was a little early, only shortly after breakfast, and the refreshments were still being set up. From the few that had already arrived, it seemed to be a rather intimate gathering of mostly familiar faces. If you were especially lucky, Theodore Nott might not make an appearance at all.

You watched a group of Slytherin boys flail and struggle to set up a folding picnic table and put a sheet over it. Enzo Berkshire had flopped onto the table to stop the sheet from flying off while the table groaned underneath his weight. Draco Malfoy was crossly telling him off and trying to get him to stand while Mattheo Riddle stood a little to the side, still frowning over the table's instructions. Draco had now moved onto threats when there was a terrible creaking sound and the table collapsed under Enzo.

"I was just about to say," Matheo started offhandedly, while Enzo moaned pitifully, "I don't think we put the table together right."

"I told you we should have waited for Theo."

Speak of the devil.

“Ladies,” Theo drawled from behind, in his appealingly lazy accent. You turned to see Theodore in a relaxed button-down folded at the elbow, wearing a simple but likely designer pair of black sunglasses, holding a red solo cup. You instinctively glanced at his tanned forearms before snapping your gaze back to his face. Did he notice? It was hard to tell with the sunglasses.

“Hi, Theo,” Ivy said awkwardly when you stubbornly refused to respond. “What's that you got there?”

"Punch. Enzo had me taste test it."

"Oh. Is it good?"

He gave a wry smile. You wanted to roll your eyes. You had no patience to tolerate his irritating posh affectations.

"A little strong for my taste, but it'll do."

"Have you seen Ivan?"

He waved his hand carelessly. “He’s…around.” He turned, peering in the distance. “Right. There he is, by the steps. He’s bringing the drinks.”

“I’ll go help him!” Before you could reel Ivy back in and threaten her to stay with you, she was already halfway down the path, heading straight for her boyfriend. You scowled, your impassive mask shattering. You turned back to see Theo grinning at you with his stupidly mysterious sunglasses and you shot him a dirty look. 

“Nice weather we’re having, hm?”

You schooled your features and shrugged noncommittally. The silence stretched unbearably between the two of you. Theo vaguely gestured to the boys with his cup.

“I should help them with the table."

You stayed tight-lipped, refusing to give in to the sense of camaraderie he seemed to be trying to foster with you. After all, you weren't friends. He made sure of that.

As he set his cup down and started looking over the instructions with Mattheo, Ivy returned, drinks and Ivan in tow.

“Punch?”

You raised your eyebrows. Even from a distance, the bowl reeked of booze. Still, you accepted a cup, downing it even as your eyes watered. You pulled a face.

“Merlin, that’s awful. Pour me another.”

You ended up sitting in a cluster of lawn chairs around a picnic blanket with Ivy, Katie and some other girls in your year. You were all giddily tipsy and in very silly moods, gossiping and swapping terrible first date stories.

The drunker and drunker you got, the harder it was to pull your eyes away from Theo. After all, as your inhibitions dissolved, what was there to stop you from glaring a hole into his skull?

Not that he noticed. He was sitting some distance away with his own friends, examining the bottom of his red Solo cup disinterestedly. The other Slytherin boys were absorbed in a spirited game of Exploding Snap. In the unassuming midday sun creeping up on them, he was a refreshing sight, sleek and cool in ways mere mortals could only dream of wishing for.

You scoffed under your breath. What, were his childhood friends too boring for him? Was that it? Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? You had half a mind to strip naked and run into the lake. Maybe that would finally be captivating enough for the oh-so-hard-to-impress Theodore Nott. 

How many other girls did he help write essays for late into the night, letting them doze, holding their hand? You shook yourself. He never held your hand. He helped you with your project, brought you breakfast, and that was it. Still, your gaze stayed fixed on the back of your hand. Whatever possessed you to think he held your hand?

The sky had gotten a little cloudy. Theo pulled off his sunglasses, blinking, and cast his eyes around, looking for a place to put them. Finally, he settled on hooking them on the open collar of his shirt and looked rather pleased with himself. It was almost endearing.

Your gut told you to avert your gaze, but you didn't, and the next second his gaze was on you. For the first time in weeks, his eyes met yours, intense and unforgiving. You told yourself it was just his gaunt complexion and bruise-like eyebags, but that didn’t stop your throat from seizing with some inexplicable want. Even when he moved away to rejoin his friends, your skin tingled; your body positively thrummed with it. Any hope of playing at sanity was out the window at this point. No, you just had to accept that the two of you would always be unfinished business.

But that was it - he wasn’t playing at this like you were. This was all a pretence for you; the unaffected stares, the nonchalant nods, the afterthought smiles. This was all just you pretending you weren’t watching his every move. Pretending your attention wouldn’t stay fixed on him in a room full of burning bodies.

But he wasn’t pretending. Not for one second.

All of a sudden, you felt queasy. You were going to be sick.

"Y/N?" Ivy was saying, looking concerned as you unsteadily got to your feet. You could feel the back of your neck prickling with Theo still watching you.

"I'm - I'm fine," you slurred, fanning yourself weakly. "Stay - I'm okay. Just...s'hot. Need to -" 

You put your cup down somewhere, stumbling back to the castle as fast as you could, your head spinning as the ground wobbled dangerously under you. You weren't sure how but you somehow made it to your dorm, flung open the bathroom door and reached the toilet just as your stomach started emptying its contents. 

You vaguely registered that you had never been this drunk - it felt like you were slipping in and out of consciousness. You were only distantly aware of a familiar pair of hands holding your hair back, rubbing soothing circles on your back as you heaved. It was a cathartic kind of release, a purging of all the toxic anxiety that had been festering inside of you. And just like that, a dam broke. You started crying, sobbing like the world was ending, slumped against your best friend.

“Oh, Y/N…”

“I don’t understand,” you choked out, leaning your forehead against the tiled bathroom wall. “Why doesn’t he like me anymore? Why does he h-hate me?”

Ivy delicately smoothed some of your unruly hair down. “He doesn’t hate you, honey.”

“I’m not a k-kid, Ivy," you hiccuped. "You don’t have to lie to protect my feelings.”

Ivy hugged you close as you sniffled. “I’m going to kill that asshole if Ivan doesn’t beat me to it.”

“No,” you said in a shaky voice, gingerly sitting up. “Promise me you won’t tell Ivan.”

“Y/N - “

“They’re friends! I don’t want to spoil that for him.”

“Trust me, if he knew what Theo was doing, he wouldn’t be feeling all that friendly.”

“Don’t, Ivy,” you pleaded. “This is just…it’s just between us. I’m fine, I swear.”

Ivy looked highly unconvinced. You let out a frustrated sigh.

“Look, at least give me a week to work through this on my own, alright? Then you can sic your boyfriend on Nott.”

“You’ve already had your week. Weeks, in fact.”

“Ivy.”

She pursed her lips. “Fine.”

You felt a lot more sober after throwing up. But you still weren't feeling up to returning to the party, so once you finally managed to shake Ivy off, you wandered the deserted halls of Hogwarts. Just like that one evening lifetimes ago, when Mattheo had insinuated Theo might have a thing for you in the library, you ended up at the Astronomy Tower.

It was peaceful. You could see why Theo liked to come up here to think. You looked up as you heard a scuffling sound from behind one of the pillars, near one of the stone arch windowsills. You walked over to find Theo sitting there, smoking, his long legs barely fitting across the length of the window. He didn't expect to see you either, if the way the cigarette was dangling from his lips was any indication.

“Put that out.”

It was the first thing you had said to him in weeks. You felt almost as surprised as he looked. He started, as if he had forgotten about the cigarette, and took another puff.

“I said,” you started again, half-heartedly raising your voice, “put that out.”

It was weak and unsurprisingly ineffective. If Theo picked up on what it truly was, a plea for normalcy, he didn’t let on.

Your already thin patience snapped. You stalked over, stealing the cigarette from his lax fingers. What you weren't expecting was Theo's fingers closing around your other wrist and firmly pulling you down to press his mouth hard against yours. It was a clumsy mess of teeth and tongues as you ungracefully reached for his arms to steady yourself. His grip lessened when he got the inkling you weren't about to pull away and sock him in the jaw. His hands drifted to your waist as the two of you fumbled for a more proper kiss. You could taste the lingering salt of the cigarette and your senses felt overwhelmed by the distinct feel of Theodore Nott.

“Tesoro -“ he wheezed, twisting away from where your hand had dropped to his bicep, the smouldering cigarette having singed through his shirt.

“Shit, sorry. How do you -?”

Theo plucked the cigarette from your hand and dropped it on the floor, grinding it with the heel of his shoe. He looked up to where you were still hovering above him before pulling you down into his lap by your hips. He grabbed your wrists, placing your hands on his shoulders, and you had to bite back a smile over how adorably particular he was.

“Telling me where to place my hands? And I thought I was the bossy one.”

Theo quirked an eyebrow. "Maybe I'm just sick of waiting." He tipped his head back against the rough stone wall. "And...wanting."

You smoothed a thumb across his collarbone, not missing the way he shivered under your touch. “So what do you want, Nott?”

He tipped you forward, kissing you much more properly this time. You didn't bother pulling much away as you broke apart, whispering with your faces inches away.

“We're actually doing this.”

“Seems so.”

He cupped your face, swiping a thumb under your eyes as his expression flickered.

“Were you…crying?”

You sniffed, dragging his hand off your face, and looking away. "Just - allergies."

Theo blinked, watching your face with a stunned (and slightly dumb) expression as if you hadn't said anything.

“But you never cry.”

You gave a bitter smile. “Congratulations, Nott. You’re officially the first person to ever reduce me to tears.” You desperately hoped he would drop the subject. Just talking about it was enough to make you want to start sobbing again.

"Did someone say something to you? I swear I - it's not because of me, is it?"

Your face crumpling was the only confirmation he needed. “It was like you - I don’t know. Like you hated me, or something.”

Theo captured your hands in his own where they had slid down to his chest. “I….hate you?”

“Or something. Probably the something.”

“But - why? How? If anything, I’d say you hated me.”

Your lips parted as your brow furrowed. “What gave you that idea?”

“What gave me the - I don’t know, all the scowling? The glaring? The snide remarks? The bodily harm?”

You flushed at the memory of the Potions storeroom incident. You could kind of see his point. “That was one time.”

“You owe me new pants, by the way. New pants and a new di-“

You muffled his rant with a kiss and instantly felt him relax beneath you, the tension and annoyance draining from his limbs as he moulded your body to fit more perfectly against his. So eager, so insistent, so different from the past couple of weeks. 

“I don’t know," you started once you pulled away. "This felt worse than hate. It felt like…like you couldn’t even be bothered to hate me." You swallowed hard, eyes fixed on where you were fidgeting with the edge of his shirt's collar. "As if that was how little you thought of me.”

"Mia cara," he sighed, almost dejectedly. "Small is the last thing I think of you." He ran a hand through his hair frustratedly, searching for the right words.

“I’m not good at expressing…fondness.”

“No. You don’t say.”

He wet his lips. You could see the smile he was holding back.

“I’m not good at being honest or direct. Everything - my mind, it’s a mess, it’s always about what I want, and how to get what I want, I never - I never meant to make you feel that way."

Maybe it was still all part of some elaborate scam. But sitting there with the rough stone arch digging into your sensitive skin, the distant scent of holding Theo's face in your hands like he was moonlight, you believed him. You didn't even have to try. You just did.

“I’m not used to playing the part of the fool, bella. But when I see you smile, or read, or fiddle with your hair…" He reached out to free the lock of hair you were nervously tugging on, "...I never feel more foolish.”

"I don't think I've ever hated you either, for the record," you said, smoothing out his shirt where you had crumpled it in your fists. "I might have thought I did, but..." you trailed off, looking into his mesmerisingly blue eyes. No, you decided softly, you never could hate the boy.

"I never thought anything could come of us. You were - you are - so brilliant. You're on the road to brilliant things. I was only going to get in the way. And...I don't think I could live with myself if I did." He glanced up and, seeing the crestfallen look on your face, hastily amended his statement.

"That, and you had no patience for pretty boys.”

You scoffed half-heartedly. “I have no patience for you, either.”

Theo grinned, shifting you up his lap, as if you could never be close enough to him. He looked so carefree you couldn’t hold back a small smile of your own. “You keep me so humble.”

“I try.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, tracing burning expanses of skin, staring at each other like you could never get your fill. You’d occasionally press soft kisses down his neck and jaw while his hands would drift up your ribcage or down your thighs. Both of you moved at an unhurried pace, because now you had all the time in the world to have and hold each other.

“It’s getting late,” you murmured, hours later, now tucked into Theo’s side as you lightly traced shapes on his chest. It was pleasantly warm and given the late hour, you could feel your eyelids growing heavier. When he didn't respond, you lifted your head.

Beneath you, Theo breathed deeply and evenly, looking half-asleep. You rolled your eyes and gave him a hard jab in the ribs.

“Hey. Nott.”

Theo grunted, stirring, swatting your hand away. You grinned to yourself - annoying Theo would never lose its appeal. Eyes still closed, his hand haphazardly searched for you to once again pull you against him. You ignored his efforts, deliberately unhelpful.

“You need to pick another name, y’know. This whole last-name business isn’t going to fly as my girlfriend.”

You felt yourself unreasonably perk up over his words. “Your girlfriend? Me?”

He cracked an eye open. “I thought the exclusivity thing was obvious. You're a serial monogamist.”

“Yeah, but you’re not.”

Theo groaned, too tired to keep up with you. He rolled you onto your back and propped himself up with a forearm. You giggled softly, flustered by the heat in his gaze.

“Then I guess you’re lucky I like kissing you the best, amore.”

He dropped his head, and you got the distinct impression you could never tire of the feel of his hands and lips on you. 

“What were you saying before?” Theo inquired, while his hands continued their distracting exploration under your clothes.

“It’s late.”

“Right.”

“You have Charms right after breakfast. We should,” your breath hitched, “um, go to bed.”

Theo grumbled something in the crook of your neck, sending the most delicious vibrations down your spine.

"Fine," you sighed, encircling your arms around his neck. "Five more minutes."

He barely made it in time for Charms the next morning.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unwanted 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, bullying, insults, body insecurity, perversion, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You’re used to being unwanted, but a strange man might just convince you that’s a good thing.

Note: this is a sequel to Unsolicited/Unexpected, but with a different reader. This is Lloyd’s sequel. Peaches is flourishing somewhere else.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You run away from the uber and nearly crash into the front door. You scramble to get the keys in the lock as you refuse to look back at the car idling at the curb. You shake as you twist so hard your wrist throbs. You swing inside and just as quickly turn the lock. 

You heave and turn your back to the door. You can't believe what just happened. What he did with you right there in the back seat. Your eyes tinge with hot tears and your nose tingles. 

“What’s it this time?” Derrick scoffs as he appears in a pair of loose grey sweats and oversized hoodie. You can’t tell that he’s been sleeping all day. “You’re such a cry baby.” 

“Nothing,” you turn and drop your bag on the side table. “It’s cold, that’s it.” 

“Sure,” he peels open the bag of chips in his hands. 

You shrug. He doesn’t care. He just likes an easy target. 

You unzip your coat and hang it. You leave your boots on the mat and swipe up your bag. You tramp past him and up to your room. 

You shut the door and throw your bag on the end of your bed. You’re restless. Unsettled by that strange man. Why is he bothering you? Of all people. How did he tack onto you. You’re nothing. You’re insignificant. Maybe that’s why. Just like Derrick, he knows you’re weak. 

Your phone vibrates in your back pocket. You flinch. It’s probably your mom ready to bitch you out about the dishes or dinner. You slip the cell free and check it. Private number. 

You answer, it could be your manager. 

“Hello?” You quaver into the speaker. 

“Mmm, there’s that caked-up cutie,” the gravely purr makes you shudder. “I was just thinking of you. Again.” 

“No,” you exclaim and hang up. You throw your phone and pace around. Why? Oh, maybe it’s all your own fault. 

You’re used to being unnoticed. Being the forgotten one. And for so long, you just wanted to be seen. You dreamed of some guy way out of your league picking you out of the crowd and telling you you’re special. But not like this. No, never this. That man is a creep. 

But who are you to be picky? 

No! No. Don’t do that. You’d rather be alone. The way he talks about you, the way he looks at you, even you can see that he’s no good. He’s just a pervert and you’ve seen enough Tiktoks to know better. 

Your phone vibrates again. You ignore it. That’s your only option. 

You leave your room and your cell. You go down and start on dinner. At least your mom won’t have anything to rant about, but you’re sure she’ll think of something. 

You glaze the chicken breast and put it in the oven. You start on the potatoes, seasoning them and adding lemon wedges to the pan. You slide those on the middle rack and rinse asparagus. The front door opens and closes as you focus on the simple tasks over the complicated thoughts nipping at your ears. 

“Smells good,” your father chimes as he enters, then clears his throat, “oh, your mother isn’t home?” 

“Not yet,” you look at the time. You know she had her office holiday party but it is getting late. 

“Hm, well, put some aside for her,” he says. “Is it almost done? I’m starving.” 

“Yeah, twenty minutes,” you answer. 

He doesn’t say anything else before he leaves. You hear him upstairs as he gets changed then comes back down to flip on the television. Your brother’s surround speakers blare through the other wall as he games on his PC. 

The front door opens again. Your mother’s shrill voice carries through with a gust. 

“Oh, that’s so wonderful,” she preens. “How sweet of you.” 

You put the asparagus in the pan and pause. Who is she talking to? You turn with the spatula in hand and near the doorway. You peer down the hall and see a broad set of shoulders. Wait, you know the back of that head. 

“I mean, much more considerate than my own daughter. She’s never mentioned you,” she touches his chest as you see the smirk on her face. You grimace. 

“I think I spoiled the surprise,” Lloyd says. “We were just talking earlier and she told me to come for dinner.” 

“She did? Well, isn’t that spontaneous. So unlike her,” your mom muses wryly. “Just like having a secret boyfriend. Older too.” 

“What’s going on?” Your dad’s growl wafts through and you shrunk back behind the doorframe and listen with dread. 

How are they not freaking out? This weirdo forty-year-old is just waltzing right into your house. This isn’t happening. 

“Hello, sir,” Lloyd says before he gives his name, “I’m here to see your daughter.” 

“That would explain the flowers.” 

“Scotch for you and wine for the missus, of course,” Lloyd explains. 

“Hm, that’s... top shelf,” you dad comments. Of course, he would care more about the fancy bottle than his own daughter. “Mitch,” he introduces himself. 

Your mom hollers your name, “you have companyyyyyy.” 

You cringe into yourself. How did he do it? How has he escalated everything so quickly? And why? Because you hung up on him? Because you closed your eyes when he-- 

Ew! 

She calls you again. You put your head back and gather what little courage you have. You turn and step into the hallway. 

“I’m just cooking dinner,” you say. 

“Get over here,” your dad demands. You know better than to disobey. 

“So when were you going to tell us?” Your mother prompts. 

“Tell you what?” You look at Lloyd sheepishly as he spins to face you and grins. 

“About us, sweetie,” he holds out a bouquet of pink roses, “oh, shoot, did I get the wrong day? I’m always forgetting these things, you know? I’m an executive and I have a pretty full calendar--” 

“Executive?” Your father echoes. 

Your mother hums, impressed. 

“We didn’t...” you try to summon a lie but you’re speechless. “Ummmm.” 

“I don’t know why you felt you had to hide us,” your mom challenges. 

“I didn’t? What?” 

“Well, it is about time, isn’t it, Enid?” Your dad intones. 

You gape at Lloyd as he shoves the flowers towards you, “these will need some water, sweetie.” 

You reach for them and look between your parents. You plead silently for help. Aren’t they supposed to protect you? Shouldn’t they be concerned that there’s an old man bringing you gifts? 

“Oh, dear,” your mom says, “do put them in crystal. They are so pretty.” 

“Just like her mother,” Lloyd adds. 

“Eh,” your father grunts playfully, “you could at least pour me a drink before you start flirting with my wife.” 

[the-barefoot-hatter]

kill that bug dead! he said all of that right in front of the kid too? no mercy!

steve is very, very loved <3

-◬--◬--◬-

Imma tackle the questions posed here! (readmore cuz i get yappy)

(I am so jazzed for Q&A, I get so nervous just talking outside the tags on my own and i have feeeeeeeelings)

do you think bill felt guilt for passing down his single eye down to Steve. or if ford felt guilt for passing down the six digits.

I think Bill's strange eye wasn't weird for the number of eyes, but for what he can see with it. And Bill is certain Pyramid Steve inherited his special vision, because his baby is special and spectacular and all other babies are boring diaper-rashed losers in comparison!!!

(Bill is feeling some kinda way about P.S. maybe inheriting ALL of Bill's powers given Bill's track record at handling his own abilities. at the same time. ex astris, ad astra)

Ford doesn't really have the context to be entirely sure what Bill's kind is supposed to look like (Bill really likes all Ford's fingers so clearly six isn't the normal number), but it does make Ford feel all soft and fuzzy inside to share his polydactyly, something he's never had in common with anyone before, not even his own twin.

(once P.S. hits school age Ford will start worrying history will repeat itself and his toes will get him bullied, overlooking the rather obvious fact that other kids will notice he's a triangle with no arms first)

(in general both Ford and Bill think it's sweet how much P.S. looks like the other one. Both of them are shocked whenever someone says the obvious "oh he looks like just like you!" lines (triangle/triangle for bill, blue eyes/blue eyes for ford))

#what if when Steve grows up he’s casually chatting with his dad Ford#and then he casually drops all the stuff bill did that he didn’t tell ford#including the pediatrician incident

Oh, Bill has 100% let things slip around Pyramid Steve, thinking he was too baby to notice or remember. Plus a lot of the typical "don't tell your father!" incidents that come out years later (ranging from the normal to the 'he let you steer a WHAT when you were WHAT?!')

(Bill burned down at least three more pediatrician offices. Actually, they finally found a good match right in Gravity Falls. Go fig, the weirdness attracts weird parents with weird kids)

#THE TAGS IN THE ORIGINAL POST KILLED ME. KILLED ME DEAD

yay! I tend to yap in there about extra feelings stuff. i think i actually hit the tag limit lol

pediatricians are hard to find.

you aren't broken and other important things a triangle needs to hear

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Jack and Joker - final thoughts

Since the takes in the tags are... quite all over, I just want to be open about how I approach watching QLs.

1. I'm here to have fun. Real life sucks immensely right now, and QLs are my happy place.

2. I'm very aware that I am a white woman from a Western country and that I am a guest in East Asian spaces. I have internalized biases because of my background, and I believe it's my responsibility to learn and grow and figure out how to be open to other cultures & experiences without jumping to assumption.

3. I love metaphorical storytelling. I love when people take risks and try something new. I don't care if there are some logical inconsistencies or issues with budget. I am here for how it makes me feel, and what I can learn from it.

So, all that being said...

I had such a good time with this show!

I'm still processing a lot about it, and I know I will be thinking about it for some time to come. But they did so much that I appreciated. I don't have the time to go into great detail, but in very broad terms - what I loved:

Of course Yin and War. What an incredible job they did. I know this was a really challenging project for them, and they took a lot of personal risks. They are so conscientious about harmful tropes and stereotypes, and deliberate in working to break those down. I'm so proud of them, and excited to see where they go from here.

The characters. From the leads to the sides, I just adored so many of them. Jack and Joke were both such imperfect and flawed characters, but that made them so interesting to me. I loved our little troupe of idiots. I loved Toi Ting. I loved Grandma. Everyone was so vividly portrayed. Hope and Save's devotion to one another. Tattoo and Arun gradually becoming boyfriends without either one noticing. The fanfics are gonna be fire.

The storytelling. Yin and War could have easily made a fluffy romance, and people would have eaten it all up (and probably complained a lot less, lol). But it wouldn't have really said anything. They wanted to do something more complex than that. They had a lot to say about being trapped in a political & economic system that is not of our choosing and that we have no control over, and what it means for individuals to try and live out their ethics and values while knowing the system is not going anywhere. Save being the new Boss isn't a perfect solution, it's not a "yay, it's all better now!". It's a "well at least this position that will be filled one way or another is filled by a slightly less shitty person now, so maybe we can live our lives without being beaten up this year". And the Four Horsemen don't go anywhere, because systems of power are fixed. We remain beholden to them. But we can still try to carve out our little pieces of a place to hold true to ourselves and those we love.

Overall, this show made me laugh, made me cry, and made me literally applaud alone in my apartment. It wasn't perfect, there were flaws, but damn was it an incredible experience.

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

how about A Gordon and Edward Analysis

Ooh yes… the OG dynamic! The first one, the foundation for everything!

(Unless you count “Edward and railwaymen”... or “Edward and coaches”... which, to be fair, I do…) 

These two are insane (affectionate). Hot take but this may be the saddest relationship on the N.W.R.?* They’re my two bestest boys but, man. Their dynamic is fucked. Edward and James are nothing compared to this. Gordon and Henry are healthy, relatively. 

tl;dr: They need couples counseling. 

Jobey, aren't you being a little dramatic? 

Am I? Take my hand. Let's do a close read… 

* This is going to focus on RWS (not tv series). Right now and for the rest of this post, I’m going to be talking strictly from the Wilbert books (and, thus, analyzing their relationship from the ‘20s to the ‘60s only) unless I specify otherwise 

Part 1 (this post): Gordon, what's your damage? 😭 / The Doylist Reason / Rent. Free. 

Post 2 (upcoming post, link later): Edward's Defences / Gordon's Growth

Post 3 (upcoming post, link later): Collision / Uh… Cleanup Crew?

tagging @weirdowithaquill because you asked for Edward+James and i wound up folding in most of what i have to say about them into this analysis 😅 in RWS they're a good foil for understanding Edward+Gordon

Gordon, what's your damage? 😭

There is a strong drive, right here on ttteblr, to portray how despite some notorious conflicts these two are canonically old friends. Also that maybe Gordon’s bad behavior is not so bad. 

That is a valid mission, indeed I flatter myself that I had some influence steering us down this road a few years back, however sometimes I think we're in danger of forgetting how often Gordon really has just been like… This: 

"You watch me this afternoon, little Edward," he boasted, "as I rush through with the Express; that will be a splendid sight for you." (1923) 

“I’ve done it! I’ve done it! I’ve done it!” he said proudly, and forgot all about Edward pushing behind. He didn’t wait to say “Thank you”... (1923) 

Edward puffed and pulled, and pulled and puffed, but he couldn’t move the heavy coaches. / “I told you so,” said Gordon rudely. (1923) 

So Edward found coaches for the three engines, and that day the trains ran as usual. / But when The Fat Controller came the next morning, Edward looked unhappy. / Gordon came clanking past, hissing rudely. “Bless me!” said The Fat Controller. “What a noise!” (1926-1934) *

When Gordon and Henry heard about the accident, they laughed and boasted. “Fancy allowing cows to break his train! They wouldn’t dare do that to us. We’d show them!” they boasted. (1952) 

“The Fat Controller would never approve,” said Gordon loftily. “Branch Lines are vulgar.” (1965) 

Edward scolded the twins severely, but told Gordon it served him right. Gordon was furious. / A few days later, some Enthusiasts came. On their last afternoon they went to the China Clay Works. / Edward found it hard to start the heavy train… / “Just pathetic,” grunted Gordon. “He should give up and be Preserved before it’s too late.” (1965) ** 

I am sportingly not even saddling Gordon with the blame for the line "Driver won't choose you again. He wants strong engines like us." (In TTRE, this is said by the collective of big engines – although the illustrations do clearly point a finger at Gordon. Still, like I said, I'm going to be sporting. The pictures aren't canon.) Also note that in RWS Gordon doesn't say "No use at all" when he learns Edward has come to push his train; that whole bit of dialogue was something Britt and David cooked up. 

Even being as generous as possible, this still leaves us with… seven. Seven instances of Gordon taking a shot at Edward. 

That’s actually quite a… lot? 

I mean, not necessarily if we were racking up all the complaints, ranging from major to miniscule, that you’d have about someone you’d lived and worked with for over 40 years, lol. 

But we shouldn’t actually be expecting a complete inventory at all. RWS books are minimalist on detail. There's just so much less in 'em than the sprawling TVS with its 24 full series, lol. And let’s focus here on just the Wilbert canon, since that’s where all these examples of Gordon being rude to Edward come from. Seven times, in 26 books. For context, the number of times Thomas teases Gordon in this same corpus is… three. Three times. Thomas cheeking Gordon. Also kind of a fundamental dynamic. THRICE! 

Passengers saying What a Bad Railway It Was… two. Number of times Thomas and Percy squabble… three. Number of accidents that Percy gets into (and this includes the piddling stuff, like crashing into that wagon of flour that was left on the rails)… five. Reflect on that for a moment: Gordon is a dick to Edward in canon more often than Percy's had an accident. That's crazy. Indeed, there are plenty of RWS characters who are canonically friends or who shed together who don't even get to have seven shared moments. It's actually kind of a fun game, to try to think of any two of them who, like Gordon and Edward, have seven of a specific kind of interaction. Have at it! There has to be something I've missed. 

But I hope it's clear, that by the standards of these books this character dynamic is hit A LOT. You know me, I'm going to go on to contextualize a lot of these seven examples, and I'm going to play Gordon defense attorney to a certain degree, and plead mitigation. But I can't possibly explain away the sheer size of this pile of evidence. This specific dynamic is not meant to be overlooked. It's not meant to be minimized.

This is a big inescapable part of what their relationship is. 

The Doylist Reason

Now, in fairness, the meta reason this dynamic is so pervasive and repeated is that it's The Template. 

“Big braggadocious engine needs help from humble plucky little engine” was trite before The Three Railway Engines was published. This is not a slam; I’m not gonna get on another parent’s case about the story they improvised for their kid because “it relies on cliches.” But it’s just a fact: Edward and Gordon, to begin with, are simply THE foundational cliche of “anthropomorphic train” media. 

One of the reasons the RWS (and the whole subsequent TTTE juggernaut) is so successful is because it features so many creative variations on this template. Most of the relationships are just "okay so one of them is the Gordon, and one of them is the Edward, but this time there's a twist!" (This is how you get Thomas as the big breakout character – because the Thomas and Gordon variation is a lot less cliched, and a lot more fun.)

Just an observation. 

Now, Awdry did keep writing the OGs again and again and again, for a couple'a decades, and he developed them both quite a bit. So by the end of his run we do have a very elaborate Jenga tower built on this template. Loads of fun* to be had yet. So let's jump right back into analyzing this shit in-universe. 

* For certain definitions of fun 😈

Rent. Free.

The first thing I wanted you to note about Gordon’s Edward-directed crimes was that there were a lot of them. 

The second thing I want you to note is that… these are, perhaps, not all so very criminal? 

Some of it is – the group harassment about the strikebreaking and the “Just pathetic!” bit (more on both of those later). But a lot of the rest of it strikes me as more the results of being blunt or un-self-aware or even just plain boisterous than actively choosing to bully anyone. In particular, the early stuff, the Three Railway Engines stuff on which the whole foundation of their relationship is laid… 

"You watch me this afternoon, little Edward," he boasted, "as I rush through with the Express; that will be a splendid sight for you." (1923) 

Condescending. Tone-deaf. Belittling (literally). But… not actually spiteful?

“I’ve done it! I’ve done it! I’ve done it!” he said proudly, and forgot all about Edward pushing behind. He didn’t wait to say “Thank you”... (1923) 

That's not cool, but it's also not… that bad. 

At the point where The Three Railway Engines ends with the claim "all three engines are now great friends," it's like, sure. You can see that. Indeed you can see it much more easily for Gordon and Edward than you could with Gordon and Henry – Gordon's behavior toward the latter (though in a similar vein of "kick a fellow when he's down") was much more extreme, and Henry's behavior was so bizarre that you hardly know what to expect from him next. (What you don't expect is that those two will be joined at the hip for the next thirty years.) By contrast the Edward and Gordon relationship should be kinda easy, the former's really nice so the latter just has to remember some basic manners and they should be okay. Right? 

But that's not how it goes. Partly of course because Gordon has much more out-of-pocket shit in him than he ever displayed in TTRE. But I'm going to set aside some of the more severe tests that Gordon makes of these friendships till later – stuff like punishing Edward for breaking his tender engine strike and "Just pathetic!" (not to mention all the needling of Henry around the Flying Kipper accident). Setting that aside, Gordon's original sin is simply being a dumb, self-centered, out-of-touch rich jock. Yes, he’s consistently “rude,” but usually more in an ignorant, superior, “I cannot be bothered to try not/learn how to prevent myself giving offense” sort of way than an aggressive, malicious “hurting you for fun and profit” sort of way. In contrast to, say, James. Whose behavior really is consistently mean. And who is hurtful on purpose, because he’s having a bad day and tearing someone else down is how he copes. James insults; Gordon (except in those couple of asterisked cases that we’re tabling for later discussion) merely boasts. And it’s really quite interesting to me how Edward seems to have much less problem with the former than with the latter! 

Because he does have a problem with it. We know, because for most of this long list of incidents the source must be… him. 

This is a series where canonically the Author is a human “friend of the railway,” collecting and publishing these stories in order to publicize the railway to the world. This is something that really can’t be forgotten when reading these (indeed, thanks to the “Author’s Note” each time, the books will not let you forget it). The narrator is canonically a figure in this universe, and is not omniscient. 

And, when it comes to the Edward/Gordon dynamic, the Author’s point of view is consistently collapsing into Edward’s point of view. 

Certain times when the narrator editorializes about details, we can be pretty sure, are lifted straight from Edward’s take on the moment (and, if not Edward’s, then The Fat Controller’s, which to be frank is also roughly aligned): 

Edward puffed and pulled, and pulled and puffed, but he couldn’t move the heavy coaches. / “I told you so,” said Gordon rudely. (1923) 

That Gordon said that, I don’t doubt. That the adverb is necessary, or even correct? That’s… that’s interpretative. I totally understand why Edward and TFC, respectively, took it that way, but I’m not 100% convinced it was meant that way, nor that everyone else on scene regarded it as much more than Gordon glumly colour-commentating the group effort to recover from his breakdown. Is he being ‘rude’? Or is he merely too blunt for North Western sensibilities?

Anyway, even if ‘rude’ is the correct interpretation, it is again worth noting that it’s certainly not part of the narrative as Gordon would have been telling the story in the 1940s. (The 1940s! It's over twenty years later! And Edward is getting his side of the thing in fuckin' print… Big win, that.)

So, if we agree that Edward is the source the Author primarily relies on for these 2+4 scenes, what does this show us? Well, for one, I'd say it shows us that Edward may ‘forgive’ all this but he is certainly not forgetting one bit of it. Indeed the narrative’s repeated return to this dynamic almost certainly mirrors how much room Gordon’s superior attitude occupies in Edward’s headspace.

Which is kinda wild. There's no evidence Edward is petty by nature, if anything there's a lot that suggests the opposite. Gordon getting this far under his paint is… something of an achievement. 

But we can see how he managed: 

Even discounting the illustration. Even if Gordon isn’t the speaker. He was one of Them. The other big engines who tormented Edward may have been worse, were probably worse, but they are gone and Gorson remains, an eternal reminder of 1922-3. Of the primordial period when Gordon has the power, Edward doesn't. Gordon is on top of their world; Edward is left alone in a shed, cut off from all his former friends and supporters, afraid for his life, roundly denigrated by the engines he lives with, and quite possibly lost his previous job directly in favor of Gordon. Who, at best, is careless and oblivious. Who, at worst, is belittling and rude. 

Ouch. 

Gordon's arrival is still bound up, probably even the direct cause, of one of the most miserable and humiliating year of Edward's life. And – maliciously or not – everything about how Gordon conducts himself only serves to keep tearing again at that wound.  

Ouch. 

If Edward were to write off Gordin as a potential friend till the end of time, well, you know, it would be valid. Not very "wise" or anything, but it’d be understandable.

To be clear, I don't think this is what happens. I'm not going to argue that the famous line from the end of TTRE is a lie, some sort of diplomatic fiction. No, Gordon and Edward quickly make a go at genuine friendship. Indeed, throughout all this mess, even as I analyze it in excruciating detail… there's something kind of touching and weirdly wholesome about the way that they both try so hard to make it work despite the headwinds against them. Edward (and Gordon, for that matter) make sincere efforts to overcome the wounds they have inflicted on each other's egos. Kudos, lads. 

However, I also don't agree with a vast assumption on the part of many fans that Edward solves the issue by simply… rising above. Puts aside his own ego, takes a pacifist approach to all the jockeying for position, acts purely as mentor, just sits on the moral high ground and philosophically accepts everything as it is. 

This is canonically nonsense. Yes, Edward was passive in his first-ever story – he was at the end of the line; he needed someone to give him a damn break before he even had options – he doesn't actually remain passive after that, though. Indirect (he’s allergic to conflict), but not passive. We see very clearly that Edward may be judging status by a bit of a different yardstick than Gordon et. al., he doesn’t think picking up the slack on secondary or support jobs is a source of shame and his relative physical weakness drives him to find different ways to distinguish himself, but, like, when it comes to points-scoring, he’s still very much in the game. Of course his first priority is just to be wanted and useful at all, but that is not the end of it. Edward is competitive, with a proper amount of pride (“Good! Don’t let them beat you”) and he has normal engine-y desires and ambitions (“Look at me!”). ‘Course, in his case they don’t drive him to make a straight-up nuisance of himself. But, still. It matters to him that he gets to be the Smartest Engine in the Shed. It matters to him that he has nice blue wheels. It matters to him that he’s important, it matters to him that he’s respected, and he’s quite as pleased to get important jobs as any other engine (even if he doesn’t begrudge an engine who gets a jammier job than him). When canon kicks off no driver at Vicarstown has laid a claim on Edward, Topham Hatt has just succeeded some previous General Manager and shows no sign of knowing or remembering that Edward exists, and Edward has nothing – no job and no allies. It is not an accident that all three of those things change. It’s not even merely a natural karmic reward for being a nice, humble engine with a winsome smile. Edward set out to earn recognition. His main method (be helpful and reliable to others) is admirable, but it is also a means to a goal (be recognized as important and ensure he's never again stuck in the sheds). And he succeeds wildly. There’s luck there, sure - there always is, with success - but he didn’t have a lot of natural advantage at his tender, either. What I’m saying is that he’s not some innocent unworldly soul who aww-shucks’d his way into it. He meant for this to happen. He played smart and he worked hard for it – but, like, he had to know what it was he wanted. 

Am I belaboring this point? Maybe. But I feel like so many people only see Edward as nothing more than a dutiful, responsible, maybe even stuffy oldster with at most an occasional twinkle of fun in his eye and, hell, often that’s not even a big problem (though I think it sells short later characters who arrive and who are ACTUALLY more unambitious and above-it-all than Edward - for instance, I think Donald and Douglas are actually our first tender engines who show up and legitimately just never once give a shit about their status, at least not beyond the status of ‘alive’ vs. ‘dead’). But I think it IS a problem, that it does lead you wrong, when you bring that assumption to bear on Edward’s relationship with Gordon. Edward never "mentors" Gordon. It’s a fundamentally competitive relationship. Oh, maybe it shouldn’t be! It shouldn’t be, because Edward is not jealous by nature and so if Gordon were halfway chill himself it never would have been. And it shouldn’t be, because Gordon so easily outclasses Edward that there should be no reason for Gordon to ever get jealous, either. But they both manage, somehow. Edward’s not just benignly pulling a quarter out of Gordon’s ear every so often, to gently remind him that Gordon doesn’t know everything yet. He might have settled into this role, if Gordon hadn’t scared the existential shit out of him throughout the ‘20s, but Gordon did and so Edward didn’t. Edward’s in it to win it, babe! He accepts that his express days are over, but he’s not willing to be told he never again gets a cut of the cake, either – and, when Gordon snubs him, Edward is not just rising above the fray and letting it go. They’re always playing tug-of-war. 

To reiterate: I don't think Edward is faking friendship after Gordon's failed express. He's really working on it – and he might have had more success letting go of the previous wounds Gordon inflicted on his ego – if only Gordon had stopped that sort of shit, going forward! 

But that's asking too much. It's still the 1920s, baby; Gordon's gonna Gordon; so what's a little tender engine to do? 

[le-trash-prince]

I am flipping out over this news, y'all, I cannot contain my excitement to the tags I'M SORRY

10Dance is THE slowburn BL of all time. THE!!! SLOWBURN BL!!! I wish it were getting a full series, but the fact that it's directed by Otomo Keishi (Rurouni Kenshin & Sangatsu no Lion) makes me wonder if we'll be lucky enough to get two movies, if it does well. PLEASE DO WELL!!! 🙏

10Dance is so absolutely full of physical tension, longing glances, intimacy and restraint and bickering and did I mention tension?? Rivalry?? And slowburn??? There's also a lot of exploration of queerness through the lens of ballroom dance and its gender roles, and the types of masculinity expected from standard and latin dance.

Also I am SO happy to see Machida Keita (Cherry Magic) playing Sugiki!!

Gosh I'm so excited I'm going to go re-read vol 1 right now!!!!

10DANCE - Upcoming JBL Film

Based on the manga by Inouesatoh, "10DANCE" is being adapted into a film by Netflix, coming in 2025.

Shinya Suzuki (Ryoma Takeuchi) is the Japanese champion of Latin Dance, while Shinya Sugiki (Keita Machida) is the Japanese champion and second-ranked dancer in Standard Ballroom in the world. They are often compared to each other because of their similar names despite dancing in different categories, which frustrates the competitive Suzuki. One day, Suzuki receives a surprise when Sugiki asks him to team up and win the 10-Dance Competition. The 10-Dance is a competition in which top dancers perform five varieties of Latin Dance and five varieties of Standard Ballroom. Knowing how difficult it would be, Suzuki initially rejects Sugiki's proposal to teach each other their respective styles and compete on the world stage, but Sugiki's provocative attitude sparks Suzuki's competitive spirit and spurs him to begrudgingly accept.The two men's opposite personalities clash as they devote themselves to daily lessons, but they grow steadily closer over time. Before long, Suzuki realizes he has started developing a romantic attraction to Sugiki.

[source+more info]

[sharpbutsoft]

Wip Wednesday!

Thank you @buick118 for the tag 💞 tagging @cranberrymoons @clytemnestraaa and anyone else who’s writing right now!

This is from a buddie college au I’ve been toying with after a conversation with cly got me in my feels about mature student single father Eddie bonding with post-peru Buck over a college elective they’re both bad at in different ways. Under a cut cause it’s a long snippet :)

Eddie gets the text a little after eight on Friday while he’s curled up on the sofa with Christopher half asleep by his side. Party at mine, u in? Followed by an address in an area he’s unfamiliar with.

It’s from Buck, because of course it is.

I didn’t know you lived in a frat house.

The tv’s turned low, so as not to disturb Abuela and her friends’ weekly card game, though they should be finishing up soon. Pilar likes to be in bed by nine, though Ana Maria keeps trying to convince Abuela to let her leave first, then continue the game when she’s gone.

Or so he’s heard.

It’s just a normal house lol

Normal house party

There’s even going to be girls…

Eddie laughs, though it turns to guilt when he realises the noise disturbed Chris.

“What’s so funny, daddy?”

He’s getting so big. So wide-eyed and happy, so trusting.

“Nothing, kiddo.” He slowly takes Chris by the arms and, when he receives no protest, pulls his son all the way into his lap. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

“No, I wasn’t sleepy,” Chris lies. He’s getting really good at his developmentally appropriate lying. Which is a weird thing to be proud of, Eddie knows. But as soon as it became apparent Chris wasn’t going to make certain milestones, or would be late to them, or would need surgery to even have a chance to see them…

So Eddie just lets himself hold twice as much pride when Chris lies, or when he reads his book aloud, or can tell the time on Abuela’s big red analog kitchen clock.

“Well, you might not be sleepy, but-“ Eddie yawns as long and wide as he can until Chris is giggling beside him- “I definitely am. Do you think maybe you could try and go to bed, so I can too?”

Chris looks at him with furrowed concentration, then down at the sofa they’re sharing which, when he goes to sleep in Abuela’s spare room, will become Eddie’s bed. And concedes, a little.

“Okay, but I’m not even a little teeny bit tired so I think I can get in bed but stay awake.”

They brush their teeth together, and change into pyjamas, and by the time Chris is settled and Eddie’s returned to the sofa he has four more texts from Buck.

And booze

Probably some casual games like beer pong

But yeah it’s kicking off around 10 I think

I’m working until 11 so if you wait til then I could even pick you up?

If you live nearby

Wow.