#but I just can’t believe she said these things about me

[misaerabl]

Kiss and Tell (or Not)

"Teach me how to kiss"

SUMMARY: When your best friend Ellie—an awkward disaster with an inflated ego—casually flaunts her dating experience, you jokingly ask her to teach you how to kiss. Things escalate quickly from a half-hearted peck to a proper tutorial, leaving both of you flustered, laughing, and maybe questioning what this whole "friendship" thing even means.

WARNINGS: just kissing, r and e are "friends", just two losers

A/N: i know i said i wouldn't post today but this isn't rlly Christmas related and I'm just about to go to bed so... (I'll add the wordcount tmrw, i typed this up literally straight into tumblr idk this might be word vomit)

MINORS AND MEN DNI / word count : ??

It started as a joke, as most things with Ellie did. She was lying on your bed, her legs kicked up against the wall, her favorite beat-up hoodie pulled over her head. You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, the laptop in front of you long forgotten as the conversation shifted to relationships—or, more specifically, your lack of one.

“I can’t believe you’ve had two relationships, and I haven’t even been kissed,” you said, throwing a pillow at her. She caught it with a dramatic grunt, smirking like the smug idiot she was.

“What can I say? People can’t resist me,” Ellie replied, brushing her knuckles against her chest like she was the hottest thing alive.

You rolled your eyes so hard you thought they might fall out of your skull. “You’re so full of it.”

“Full of charm,” she countered, grinning.

But the grin faded when you didn’t say anything for a moment, staring down at your lap instead. Ellie noticed, propping herself up on her elbows to study you.

“Hey,” she started, her voice softer now. “You good?”

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip before blurting out the thought that had been simmering in your head for the past few minutes. “You could teach me.”

“Teach you what?”

“How to, you know... kiss.”

Her jaw actually dropped, and for a moment, you thought she was going to laugh. But she didn’t. Instead, she blinked at you like you’d just asked her to solve world hunger.

“Wait, are you serious?”

“Never mind. Forget I said anything,” you said quickly, heat rushing to your face.

“No, no, no. Hang on,” Ellie said, sitting up completely now. “You’re telling me you want me to teach you how to kiss because I’ve dated two people?”

“Well... yeah,” you mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

She was quiet for a moment, and then: “You really think I’m qualified for that?”

You shot her a look. “Ellie, you’re the only person I know who’s been in a relationship. Twice.”

“Fair point,” she muttered, scratching the back of her neck. She still looked like she couldn’t believe what was happening. “Okay, so, uh... how do we do this?”

You gave her a flat look. “You’re the one with the experience. Shouldn’t you know?”

“Right, right,” she said, nodding like she was about to present a PowerPoint on the subject. She leaned forward a little, her expression awkwardly serious. “Okay, so... uh, close your eyes, I guess?”

“This is so weird,” you muttered but did as she said, squeezing your eyes shut and waiting.

You felt her shift closer, the bed creaking beneath her. Then, after a beat, her lips brushed yours��soft, hesitant, and barely there. It was over almost as quickly as it started, and when you opened your eyes, Ellie was already pulling back, her ears a suspicious shade of red.

Ellie sat back, rubbing the back of her neck and looking anywhere but at you. “Well, there you go. First kiss—check. You’re welcome.”

You frowned, feeling the heat of embarrassment crawl up your neck. “That wasn’t... I mean, it barely counted.”

She gawked at you. “What do you mean it barely counted? You said you wanted to learn, and I taught you!”

“That wasn’t teaching, Ellie. That was, like... the demo version,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

Ellie groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Are you kidding me right now? You want a full-on tutorial?”

“I want a proper kiss,” you said firmly, though your voice wavered just slightly. “You’re supposed to show me how to do it right, aren’t you? I mean, how am I supposed to learn from that?”

She looked at you, her eyebrows raised like you’d just asked her to climb Mount Everest. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“Yes, I do,” you shot back, though the flush on your cheeks was betraying your confidence.

Ellie groaned again, flopping back onto the bed. “This is the weirdest thing you’ve ever asked me to do, and that’s saying something.”

“Ellie, come on,” you insisted, tugging on her sleeve. “Please? Just... one more time? A proper kiss.”

She let out a long, dramatic sigh, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling. “Fine. But if this ruins our friendship, it’s on you.”

“It won’t ruin anything,” you said quickly, though a tiny voice in the back of your head wondered if that was true.

Ellie sat up again, her face pink but determined. “Alright. Sit here,” she said, patting the bed next to her.

You hesitated for a moment before climbing up and sitting cross-legged across from her. The air between you felt heavier now, charged with an energy that hadn’t been there before.

“Okay,” Ellie said, clearing her throat. “This time, no half-assing it. Got it?”

“Got it,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

She leaned in again, slower this time, giving you plenty of chances to back out. But you didn’t. Her hand found its way to your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin in a way that made your breath hitch. When her lips met yours, it wasn’t hesitant like before. It was soft but certain, warm but not overwhelming.

This time, it wasn’t over so quickly. Ellie tilted her head slightly, her movements careful and unhurried, as if she was trying to make sure you understood each step. When she finally pulled back, her face was redder than you’d ever seen it, and she couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

“Happy now?” she mumbled, her voice almost gruff.

You nodded, your heart still racing. “That... yeah. That was good. Proper.”

“Good,” she said quickly, standing up and pacing the room like she needed to burn off some of the awkward energy. “Glad we got that out of the way.”

You watched her, biting back a smile. “You know, for a self-proclaimed charmer, you’re awfully flustered.”

She shot you a glare, though it lacked any real heat. “Shut up.”

Ellie had been pacing the room after the kiss, her hands stuffed into her hoodie pocket, muttering to herself about how "this was so weird" and "friends don’t do this kind of stuff." You had stayed on the bed, still trying to process what just happened, your fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

Eventually, her pacing stopped, and she leaned back against the wall, her head thudding softly against it as she exhaled a long breath. “Okay, so... that was... something,” she muttered, glancing at you.

You looked up at her, and suddenly, her eyes locked with yours. Neither of you said anything, but the room seemed to shrink, the air thickening with something unsaid.

Her gaze was steady, and before you knew it, she was pushing off the wall and crossing the short distance between you. The tension that had been simmering finally snapped as she leaned in, her lips finding yours in a kiss that wasn’t hesitant or experimental this time. It was deliberate, almost urgent, like something she couldn’t hold back anymore.

Your breath hitched in surprise, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into her, your hands clutching the fabric of her hoodie as if you needed something to hold on to. The kiss was different—less about teaching and more about... feeling.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, and her breath came in soft, uneven puffs. “Sorry,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible. “I... I don’t know why I did that.”

You swallowed, your chest tight. “Don’t be sorry.”

Ellie leaned back slightly to look at you, her expression conflicted. “This was supposed to be a lesson, not... whatever that was.”

You didn’t know what to say, your mind still spinning from the kiss. But instead of answering, you reached out, your fingers curling around her wrist. “Ellie...”

Her name on your lips seemed to ground her, and for a moment, she just looked at you, her green eyes searching your face like she was trying to figure something out. Then she sighed, a soft, almost defeated sound, and flopped onto the bed beside you, her hand brushing yours.

“Well,” she said, breaking the silence with a dry chuckle, “you’re officially not bad at kissing now.”

You laughed despite yourself, the tension easing just a little. But even as the two of you fell back into your usual banter, a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you had changed—and that maybe, just maybe, Ellie felt it too.

[sunsburns]

this came to me in a dream last night but imagine bsf!vi spying on you and your date (fem!reader, hints of caitvi x reader)

clearly, violet isn’t the jealous type, there wasn’t much that she was usually up against anyway. she was just… looking out for you—it was hard to trust some random date you met on an app or through some mutual friend.

“you don’t trust anyone, vi,” you said, smoothing the last stray pieces of hair in the mirror. vi stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame like she had nothing better to do, her arms crossed over her chest.

“i trust people,” she shot back. her tone was defensive like you’d accused her of something worse. “i do!”

“right,” you replied, your smile a little too knowing for her liking.

your phone buzzed on the counter, and vi’s gaze flickered to the screen. here, it read. she watched as your expression shifted—nerves and excitement mixed together in a way she didn’t see often.

“they’re outside,” you said, glancing at her. vi didn’t budge, just gave a small nod like she wasn’t planning to leave her spot anytime soon.

“have fun,” she said after a beat,

you grabbed your jacket and stepped past her, pausing just long enough to catch her eye. “don’t wait up.”

vi smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “sure. i’ve got better things to do than babysit your bad decisions.”

and by better things, she meant standing there, riling herself up for no reason. vi lingered in the doorway long after you left, her arms now loosely hanging at her sides. she could picture it too clearly: you sitting at some café, that soft, nervous smile you got when you weren’t sure what to say, your fingers brushing over the edge of your cup, looking as good as you always did. only this time, that smile wasn’t for her. it was for some fucking stranger.

her jaw tightened as the thought settled in. what kind of person even asks you out like this? who were they to deserve your attention, your time? vi didn’t even know their name, let alone what they looked like, but the image of some faceless jerk talking too much, maybe trying to impress you with something lame, was enough to make her roll her eyes.

she wasn’t jealous. she wasn’t.

jealousy was messy, and vi didn’t do messy. she wasn’t the type to get all worked up over something that wasn’t her business. this wasn’t her business. except—what if this person turned out to be trouble? what if they hurt you?

shit, what if you liked them?

“sounds like jealousy to me,” caitlyn’s voice chimed through her phone’s speaker a few minutes later.

vi’s jaw tightened as she paced the room, staring at the faint reflection of herself in the window. hooded sweatshirt, messy hair, no real plan—she looked like someone gearing up for trouble. “shut up, it’s not.”

“uh-huh,” caitlyn said, entirely unconvinced.

vi exhaled heavily, tugging her hood up like it might smother the heat creeping up her neck. “i just… wish i knew what was going on. that’s all.” her voice was quieter this time, almost an admission.

she hated not knowing. not knowing who this person was, what they wanted with you, what you were saying to them right now. were you laughing? leaning in close?

“you just gotta chill,” caitlyn said, her tone softening slightly. “you’ll hear all about it when the date’s over, i’m sure. you’re overthinking this.”

“i have an idea,” vi said suddenly, the words spilling out before she’d fully thought them through.

“oh no.”

a slow, mischievous grin pulled at vi’s lips, and her pacing stopped. her fingers flexed at her side as a plan began to form. it wasn’t smart. it wasn’t subtle. it was terrible. “how quickly can you come over?”

“vi, whatever you’re thinking—”

“just get here.”

——

“i can’t believe you’ve dragged me into this,” caitlyn muttered, her voice low and filled with annoyance as she tugged the brim of her cap down further over her face. the fabric shadowed her sharp eyes, which were darting toward the café window like she was already second-guessing her decision to come.

“you love this,” vi said casually, fiddling with the drawstrings of her hoodie.

“no, vi, i really don’t,” caitlyn shot back, her words pointed but softened by a resigned sigh.

as they approached the café entrance, vi glanced inside, her eyes instantly locking onto you. there you were, seated across from somone who smiled at you. vi hated them already.

caitlyn slipped into a barstool near the window, unfolding a newspaper she’d grabbed from the stand out front. her face was completely hidden behind the thin pages. vi, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as subtle.

her hood was yanked low over her face, and the sunglasses perched on her nose were oversized and crooked, like she’d grabbed them in a hurry. vi hovered awkwardly by the counter, pretending to study the menu even though her eyes kept flicking over to you.

“you’re staring,” caitlyn hissed from behind the paper.

“am not,” vi muttered back, but she didn’t look away.

you were laughing now, that light, effortless kind of laugh that vi rarely saw unless she was the one making you smile. her chest tightened as she watched you tilt your head toward your date, your expression so open, so trusting.

“they’re not even funny,” vi grumbled, narrowing her eyes at your date.

“oh, please,” caitlyn whispered harshly, her exasperation cutting through vi’s muttering. “you’re acting ridiculous. do you even have a plan?”

“i’m working on it,” vi mumbled, finally tearing her eyes away to stare at the drink options on the board. she wasn’t working on anything. she just knew she had to be here—close enough to hear the cadence of your voice.

your date said something else, and you laughed again, this time louder, brighter. vi’s fists curled at her sides as her gut twisted uncomfortably.

“this is a terrible idea,” caitlyn said, sighing heavily as she lowered the paper just enough to glance at vi. “you’re a disaster.”

“shut up,” vi shot back under her breath. but deep down, she knew caitlyn was right.

disaster or not, she wasn’t leaving until your date was over.

[rheeblogs]

★ — HELP WANTED

★ — pairing : canon/contractor!abby anderson x fem!reader

★ — as a new homeowner, paying full price to get a remodel on things was so expensive. luckily abby anderson gave pretty faces major discounts.

★ — warnings : sexual content

🔖 : @thaatdigitaldiary @d3arapril @rosemariiaa @ashortyluvsports

you weren’t much of a handyman—or handywoman, for that matter. when you moved into your new house, you quickly realized that the charm of its old bones came with a laundry list of things that needed fixing: a leaky faucet, creaky doors, shelves that threatened to collapse if you so much as looked at them.

that’s how you met abby anderson.

the first time you saw her, she was unloading a truck across the street, all lean muscles and work boots, her blonde braid sticking out from under a baseball cap. you didn’t think much of it at first, too busy trying to wrestle a box through your own front door. but when you dropped it with a loud thud, she appeared out of nowhere.

“you need a hand?”

her voice was warm, slightly teasing, and when you looked up, you were momentarily struck by her presence. abby was… well, extremely beautiful. sun-kissed skin, broad shoulders, and a crooked smile that could melt steel.

——

after helping you with the box, abby quickly learned about your diy incompetence.

“so,” she said a few days later, leaning against the doorframe as you struggled to fix a curtain rod. “you always this good with tools, or am i just special enough to witness it?”

you turned, rolling your eyes at her smirk. “yeah, yeah, laugh it up. at least i’m trying.”

she chuckled, her gaze dropping to the small pile of mismatched screws and nails at your feet. “tell you what—how about i come by this weekend and help you out? i’m pretty handy, if i do say so myself.”

you hesitated, but the truth was you needed the help. “are you sure? i don’t wanna intrude.”

“darlin’,” she said, stepping closer and giving you a lopsided grin. “it’d be my pleasure.”

——

that sunday, abby showed up in a tank top and work pants, a toolbox slung over one shoulder. she whistled low when you opened the door.

“well, look at you,” she said, her eyes dragging over the black cropped tank you had on, showing off the bold tattoo on your right shoulder. “you dress up for me?”

you blushed, shaking your head. “you wish.”

“maybe i do,” she replied, her voice dropping slightly as she brushed past you, her shoulder grazing yours.

the day passed with abby fixing things at lightning speed while you hovered nearby, asking questions and offering her water or snacks. she made it impossible to concentrate, the way her muscles flexed when she tightened screws or hammered nails.

at one point, she caught you staring.

“enjoyin’ the view, ma’am?” she asked, smirking as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

you stammered, “i—i was just tryna’ make sure you were doin’ it right, that’s all.”

“uh-huh.” she leaned closer, her voice dipping into something more intimate. “if you’ve got any other… inspections in mind, let me know.”

your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face.

——

by the time the sun set, abby had fixed more in one day than you thought possible. the two of you were sitting on the floor of your living room, surrounded by tools and scraps, laughing about the crooked shelf you had tried to install before she arrived.

“i can’t believe you thought duct tape would hold that up,” she teased, nudging you with her knee.

“look, desperate times, desperate measures,” you defended, shaking your head. “besides, you’re the expert. that’s why i have you now.”

her smile softened, and for a moment, the teasing faded. “yeah,” she said quietly. “you do.”

the air between you shifted, tension crackling like a live wire. abby’s gaze dropped to your lips, and you felt your breath catch.

“i—“ you started, but the words got stuck in your throat when abby reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“you’re something else, y’know that?” she murmured, her voice low and husky. “been drivin’ me crazy all day.”

your heart hammered in your chest. “abby…”

“tell me to stop,” she said, her forehead nearly touching yours now. “i will. just say the word.”

instead of answering, you closed the gap, your lips meeting hers in a kiss that was so soft at first but quickly deepened. abby’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer as the tension of the day finally snapped.

when you pulled back, breathless, she smirked. “so… does this mean i’m gettin’ that ‘thank-you’ dinner you promised?”

you laughed, tugging her back in. “dinner can wait.”

——

abby had you sprawled against your bed, the same bed that she fixed hours earlier. your bra was thrown across the room, landing on the vanity she just remodeled.

“fuckin’ beautiful, i fuckin’ knew it,” she says, looking at you like prey, and you can feel yourself salivating at the way her muscles bulge when she manhandles you. “spread those legs, sweetheart, lemme’ see you.”

you spread yourself to abby’s liking, your pants and panties discarded on your rug, leaving you fully bare in front of your next-door-neighbor.

her mouth damn near waters at the sight, your folds glistening in slick, simply because she talks to you nice. abby eats that shit up, making sure the neighborhood knows she does this to you.

“let me in, baby.” she says, as her fingers start pumping in and out of your pussy, the squelching noise driving her batshit crazy. she’s on top of you, kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. “pussy’s talkin’ to me, isn’t she?” she says, inserting another finger inside of you.

“shitttt, abby, don’t talk like that.” you whimper, causing abby’s pace to speed up when she hits that sweet spot inside of you, causing your moans to grow louder and louder.

“shh… gotta be quiet sweetheart, you just got here—you want the neighbors to know my name already?” she whispers against your skin, leaving messy kisses along your tits.

she’s forcing you to grind into her fingers, the show your giving alone making her boxers a soaked mess.

“p—please, abby…” you pant, your head spinning and baby hairs sticking to your forehead.

“i’ll give it to ya’ sweet girl, always so fuckin’ patient, yeah?” abby’s breath starts to hitch as you dig your nails into her back, her chest clad with a black sports bra.

“gonna… abby please, i’m so close—,” you manage to let out, and abby takes this as a signal to let you finish. she holds your body down, pumping at lightning speed, listening to your moans grow and watching your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“c’mon sweetheart, all over my fingers.” your stomach snaps, and sudden flow rushes through your body and right onto abby’s digits. you were shaking, abby’s thick fingers leaving you in a trance, all of her handy work being put to use.

“jesus, abby. you do this to all your new neighbors?” you say, attempting to catch your breath.

“nah, just you honey.”

——

the night stretched on, filled with whispered laughs and stolen kisses, and for once, you were thankful for all the broken things that had brought her to your door.

[girl4music]

“So why does She-Ra’s power of love ending work? The simplest way to put it is that She-Ra is a show about love (among other things), so rather than seeming forced and incongruous, making love the heart of the show’s climax makes perfect sense.”

Simply put. As you said.

Because the entire show as an emotional resonance for the audience that is watching is a complex love story.

“Is Power of Love stronger than the Love of Power?”

Nailed it!

And yes. The fact that it is a queer love story between 2 lead female characters adds on to the Power of Love theme because there is more challenges in queer love.

It’s not as easy as straight love and it should be depicted that way. She-Ra pulls no punches on it.

The ending in the theme of Power of Love hits and lands because they really make it something to work towards as a victory by employing how hard and scary it is to love and be loved as a queer person throughout the entirety of the TV show. It’s a real triumph as a culmination of so much difficultly and hardship both lead characters have dealt with - and kids show or not - are honest with. Indy knew this was the RIGHT ending.

The Power of Love is a theme or trope that’s exploited in TV so much that I always just groan and roll my eyes whenever I see it used as a “conclusion” because in essence, it’s just not used in the RIGHT way in that it’s not taken seriously as the very complex theme that it is and it’s why I can’t stand watching pure romance TV shows/films or just romance storytelling in general. The stakes are never high enough so it all just falls very flat.

She-Ra takes the Power of Love theme and trope as a serious conclusion and it resonates so very strongly and powerfully emotionally, narratively, thematically, sonically… Characteristically…

It just works because the show itself is all about love and the power that it can have on an individual life.

It’s the right ending for She-Ra - for the lead characters especially - because it concludes their individual arcs.

Adora learns that she can have love and she doesn’t have to throw away her destiny or duty to have it. That it doesn’t have to be either one or the other. It can be both and that she deserves to have both as a person.

Catra learns that love has always been at the forefront of what she wanted, most desired, she just needed to be brave enough to reach out for it and grab it and hold it and it will be what replaces that dark empty unsafe void that abuse and trauma and hardship has put there.

What they’re saying isn’t just that love wins (that’s obvious), but love heals too. Love is what heals pain.

Whether it be romantic love, maternal love, familial love,… it doesn’t matter. The Power of Love is the point.

The fact a kids show can do that and so many adult shows struggle like hell really just goes to show that people do really believe that love is weak and finite.

I pity those people so much. I know why I’m not like that and it’s because of another TV show where the Power of Love - redemptive love in particular - is present and done so well that I am grounded in its lessons and it will always be what I believe in most.

And She-Ra very much reminds me of that TV show. A children’s animated version of ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’.

@boopblep

@sevenlascaras

@itsaboringname

This is the final post of my not-quite-thesis on why Catradora is the greatest love story in the history of kids TV and arguably the greatest love story in TV history, period. In the first installment, I covered how Catra and Adora’s character arcs compliment each other and how they come apart and together over the course of the series. In the second, I covered how the ambiguities and conflicts of their relationship deepen their story and, by making their relationship conflict the central conflict in the story, make the relationship itself the center of the story. In the third I talked about how important Catra and Adora’s (intense) desire for each other is both in the show’s plot and in its themes. If you want to read these, I’ve linked them below. To tie these together and wrap everything up, I’m going to talk about what these elements add up to on the screen: She-Ra is the rare show that actually pulls off a Power of Love ending. More than pulling it off, She-Ra makes the power of love one of the most inspiring and stirring and exciting themes I could imagine. And I hate power of love endings. So how did they do it?

First, let’s talk about the power of love as a trope in the conclusion of action/adventure fantasy or sci-fi stories. So to clarify, when I say ‘the Power of Love’ I mean the use of love as an explicitly or implicitly magical source of power (or, in more realistic stories, inspiration) that allows a hero to overcome their final challenge and triumph. It’s common, perhaps particularly common in kids media. I suspect one plus it offers to writers is that it gives a romance sideplot more narrative significance, thus tying it into the main plot, plus it’s inspiring and warm and fuzzy and optimistic. But it’s deployed so often that it’s essentially a cliche, and if we look at how it’s used I think we can see why. Here are several ways in which The Power of Love doesn’t work. Most of these involve it not fitting with the rest of the story, or seeming contrived, IE a Deus Ex Machina, but the different reasons for this are important:

Most mundanely, the Power of Love couldn’t have any place in the story’s world. Introducing love as a powerful force at the conclusion of your story when you haven’t mentioned it beforehand can feel like a worldbuilding Deus Ex machina as you change the rules to suit narrative convenience.

More deeply, sometimes The Power of Love doesn’t fit thematically or tonally with the rest of the story. If a story is emotionally realistic and fraught, with lots of shades of gray, pain, and even atrocities, and doesn’t include notes of hope or humanism, throwing in ‘and then he was saved by the power of love’ at the end is practically a Deus Ex Machina, thematically. If you’ve created a cynical world, a gushingly optimistic ending is jarring. It may outright contradict a lot of the show’s other themes. A milder example are shows that are optimistic but not particularly concerned with love, thematically, and how these may do a disservice to their other themes by placing so much emphasis on love (particularly romantic love) in their conclusion. Ideally, a story’s ending should wrap up the themes its concerned itself with - it should provide the audience something to take away. This doesn’t have to be a decisive or triumphant conclusion, it could be an open question or even something that is quite disturbing, but the ending of a story should be -about- the same things that the story was about, generally speaking.

On a similar note, sometimes The Power of Love doesn’t fit narratively. If a romance plot is a fairly minor part of a work of fiction, having the final battle hinge on the power of love derived from that romance plot feels like a -narrative- nonsequitur. If a TV show has spent most of its run time on political plots, training montages and action sequences and three episodes on a romantic arc and then it’s the romantic arc that turns out to be the most decisive in the end, there’s a disconnect between the emphasis that the narrative itself puts on the various threads of the plot, versus what the ending is -saying- their importance is. 

Relatedly, On a character level, if most of the story has been about a character’s growth as an individual and if that has no connection to their romantic relationship then a power of love ending is irrelevant to that development, and might even subvert it (as might be the case if a straight, female protagonist whose been presented as independent is saved by the power of her love for a minor male character). Digging deeper, if characters aren’t motivated by love, if it isn’t want drives them through the story, then making love the narrative hinge of the story’s climax doesn’t fit with what the characters want and thus who they are.

Finally, and more philosophically, generally speaking these kinds of endings just feel kind of glib and false. Not only optimistic, they feel naive or even dishonest in telling us that the power of love can save us. Because nothing is ever that simple in our lives, is it? Love isn’t simple. It is often painful, fraught, and difficult. Stories that ignore this and simply celebrate love’s power aren’t true to our experience. Put another way, stories can fail to land a power of love ending when they don’t understand what love even is.

Now all of these reasons are closely related. A story that doesn’t provide much narrative emphasis on love probably doesn’t have love as a major theme. And a story that hasn’t explored love in any kind of depth will naturally feel kind of false and glib when it concludes that The Power of Love WIll Save Us. Really, this applies to any thematic conclusion, not just this one - whenever a story’s ending doesn’t reflect what the story itself is about and whenever it doesn’t show thought and depth in how it delivers it, it feels false and hollow. Looking back at how much I’ve enjoyed, or not enjoyed, various endings, I think that this explains a lot of my reactions.

To use an example, Steven Universe was a great, complex, emotionally nuanced and often very dark show with a lot of fascinating themes and insights into human psychology and relationships that ended its Diamond Age arc on a simple message about accepting yourself, and I feel like that’s one of several reasons the Diamond’s ‘redemption’ (such as it is) rings hollow (there’s more wrong with that than this, though). None of that complexity or nuance or darkness or depth was addressed, let alone incorporated into the actual ending of the original TV run (I won’t get into Future and the Movie). At least, I didn’t see it (then again, this is very much tied in with my larger feelings about SU, which is my frustration that it didn’t double down on and follow through with my favorite elements and characters, which I loved so much, and instead began to emphasize simpler and more easily digested themes and easier answers).

So why does She-Ra’s power of love ending work? The simplest way to put it is that She-Ra is a show about love (among other things), so rather than seeming forced and incongruous, making love the heart of the show’s climax makes perfect sense. But this is me, so let’s dive into the details of this - how is She-Ra about love, and how does Catra and Adora’s relationhip’s culmination in the kiss tie that up?

The first key is that She-Ra is -narratively- and structurally a love story, not simply an adventure story with a romance plot. As I mentioned in the first essay of this series, Catra and Adora’s arcs are interwoven as they diverge and then converge over the show’s run. More than that, their arcs are compliments to each other, and at the end of them Adora and Catra have grown into more compatible people. Seen through the lens of their relationship, both Catra and Adora’s development is about them growing into women who are capable of loving each other (as well as growing into their own women, and these two are linked). 

In addition, from the very outset the show has established how central Adora and Catra are to each other, and has also shown just how big a hole they leave in each other’s lives, and how only their reconciliation can fill that hole. Put another way, the converse of Adora’s statement in The Promise that ‘Nothing bad can happen as long as we have each other’ is proven in the worst way possible when Adora and Catra both nearly self-destruct when they are apart from each other, because they are missing the person who understands them well enough to help them when they need it most. That, and Adora and Catra -want- each other so much (see the third part of this series), and its established so clearly that to be loved and wanted is central for both of them. Catra doesn’t think she deserves it, and Adora doesn’t think she can even -ask- for it (or even fully think about it) without betraying her destiny or her duty. It’s only at the heart that this central question is answered with their kiss. By making both the depth of their affection and the strength of their desire for each other clear throughout the show, Noelle and the showrunners sell us on how much this relationship and that kiss mean to these characters.

Moreover, because the conflict between Catra and Adora drives the central conflict of the story (as I mentioned in my second essay), the final and decisive resolution of this conflict (indeed, it’s transformation into love) in the kiss is the perfect culmination to the show’s central arc. Rather than a final fight, Season 5 of She-Ra shows Catra and Adora working through the root causes of their conflict now that they’ve grown as people - it is a dramatization of a couple working out their relationship problems, and somehow it is actually riveting TV as opposed to feeling like a John Gottman book in narrative form.

Just as She-Ra is narratively a love story, thematically it is also a Show About Love, or perhaps more precisely, about relationships and how people can relate to each other in healthy and unhealthy ways. So much of what all the characters struggle with are relational questions - questions of how they can be a good friend, how they can be loyal yet true to themselves and their ideals, how they can honor other people's autonomy while also looking out for them, etc. Not just Catra and Adora but all the characters have learned more about being there for each other, about respecting themselves, and about admitting when they’re wrong and making it right. More mundanely, the power of love (as an inspiration and also a source of magical power) has been present since the first season.

While a lot of this exploration has been about friendship, the show has also explored the power of desire as well as the things that keep us from naming and acting on our desires. Catra and Adora’s love for each other, while appropriate for a Y-7 show, is not desexualized or abstracted, and this also gives it a realism and a poignancy, as well as a power. Among other things, it very much feels like a real relationship between two early 20-somethings.  

Moreover, She-Ra has not pulled its punches about how messy all of this is, and I think this is key. Like I said earlier, She-Ra understands that love isn’t always a good thing. It understands the power of love, good and bad - “for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.” The show has explored obsession, jealousy, control, incompatible values and the psychological hang ups and traumas that keep us from being vulnerable, as well as the havoc that can wreck. Instead of showing all the relationships in the show as uniformly good and supportive, its explored dynamics that are unhealthy or even disturbing, and in Catra’s case, we’ve seen just how twisted love can become, and how closely linked it is with hate. But then the show has shown how people can choose to grow and change and heal. The show, and its characters, have confronted the dark side of human relationships head on and triumphed. So instead of feeling glib, naive and possibly insincere, the ending of She-Ra feels hard-earned and triumphant as well as genuinely moving and insightful.

Another way of looking at this is to say that She-Ra has been deploying the Power of Love all along - seemingly naively in season 1, but with the disintegration of Catra and Adora’s relationship serving as a kind of tragic, sinister counterpoint to all the Princess Alliance’s celebrations of togetherness and friendship. Then it complicates the Power of Love in season 2, especially showing how it fails (or perhaps betrays) Catra when she lets what I think is her lingering love for Shadow Weaver make her vulnerable to manipulation. Ironically, so much of Catra’s schemes in the first parts of the show only work as well as they do because she’s similarly exploiting Adora’s feelings for her, though unlike Shadow Weaver I don’t think she fully understands that’s what she’s doing (but Catra has very much adopted Shadow Weaver’s view that Love is a Weakness). And the Power of Love isn’t enough to keep Adora and Catra together in the portal - indeed that ends with Adora decking Catra, Angella sacrificing herself and Adora sending Catra off with a death glare. Season 4 is very much about the -failure- of the power of love, perhaps because both Glimmer and Catra choose power over trust and connection. This is shown most brutally in ‘Boys Night Out’, which plays like a dark parody of the sometimes too-pat, too-simple conclusions of Season 1 episodes, and leads right into Fractures. So after 13 episodes celebrating the power of love (with those weird undertones from Catradora’s...complexity), the show spends 26 episodes subverting the original optimistic set up and pointing out that it’s much more complicated than that, and sometimes people who love each other hurt each other, and somtimes love isn’t enough to fix it (which to be fair, is very much present in Season 1 in Promise, which is hindsight sets up the tone of the show much more than the cheery end of The Battle of Brightmoon). But Season 4 ends with DT’s speech making the subtext of Season 4 text - that Catra’s domineering and posturing are there mostly to cloak her underlying need. Season 5, then, is all about repairing the rifts of the past 4 seasons (starting with the wreckage Glimmer leaves at the end of S4) and making something better. 

Indeed, the question ‘Will Love Win?’ and ‘Is Power of Love Stronger than the Love of Power’? Is central to the show. As I mentioned above, this is spelled out most explicitly by Shadow Weaver, but it is an idea held by Hoard Prime as Well: both believe that Love is a Weakness, an irrational prejudice or a passion to exploit. Both Catra and Adora have internalized this, in different ways - Catra perhaps has better internalized the idea that love is an exploitable weakness, while Adora has internalized the idea that it is an irrational distraction from What Must be Done. Throughout the entire series, we see characters destroy themselves by following the logic of Shadow Weaver and Prime, and finding redemption and grace when they embrace love and vulnerability instead. There is so much more to say about Shadow Weaver and her importance, here, and more about Prime, but this is a Catradora essay, so let’s just say that Catra and Adora’s narrative arc is a refutation of both Prime and Shadow Weaver’s worldview. They are at their lowest when they reject  their love for each other, and at their strongest when they embrace it (and each other). So when Catra and Adora kiss, they’re not just answering the great question that the narrative has been setting up in our minds (when are these two just going to make out already!?) but answering the question the show’s been posing all along. Love wins.

Last but not least, it’s important that the ending of She-Ra is queer as all hell. This isn’t a story about the power of straight love, and that’s important. Not only is the power of heterosexual love is a cliche; when used to reinforce the primacy of monogamous heterosexual marriage and normative family structures (and their implied gender roles), it can be downright oppressive.* By contrast, celebrating the power of queer love is inherently a rebellious, defiant act of joy. This is especially true when queer love has been shown in its warts-and-all, messy, passionate fullness. Because that reflects our own love when it isn’t neat or tidy or perfectly well-adjusted. It reflects us when we’re not well-adjusted or self-aware or ‘together’. And it affirms that there is still so much power in our love, in us. Maybe the power to save the world.

And it’s so fucking hokey, and so fucking sincere, and yet so thoughtful, and that’s why I love this show. So much media for adults is one step away from being some James Incandenza film from Infinite Jest - a meaningless stylistic exercise or homage to some other, more sincere, more meaningful work of art (Quentin Tarantino, I am looking at you. Yes you.) She-Ra has the fucking guts to be about something, even something as mushy as The Power of Love, and to mean something. It goes for it, and it sticks the landing. And in times like these, that’s what I fucking need, and I don’t think I’m the only one.

Well Noelle, you Magnificent Bastard, you pulled it off. I’m still kind of blown away.

*Yes, you could do a non-terrible story about the power of heterosexual love - in many ways a lot of the novels of Ursula K LeGuin and the films of Jane Campion are about this, and I fucking love both as you may have noticed. But celebrating queer love will have another element that makes it more interesting. Queer love stories are operating on an additional level.

Previous essays in this series:

[happypartytrain]

i wholeheartedly believe clay terran was the funniest (and most frustrating) motherfucker to ever grace planet earth

- would always jailbreak new phones immediately & constantly had his location set to antarctica. this made it impossible to locate him

- sometimes screamed after he popped his neck and then pretended nothing happened (in public)

- found a bottle of ketchup in his grandma’s pantry that expired in 1999. proceeded to steal it and kept it at home in his shower to confuse any guests. he only had like 1 friend & apollo can’t really do anything but wonder about it now (“he was probably fucking with me, but it slowly started getting more empty….”)

— btw, when apollo went to clean out his apartment after everything happened, the bottle was gone. yuri cosmos later found it in clay’s HAT-2 belongings. he was 100% going to target starbuck with this in space.

- had a phase where he would only use microsoft bing & said “binging it” instead of “googling it”

- he had a bit of an irrational stapler fear because he got himself once, so until he got over it he’d MAKE APOLLO STAPLE THINGS FOR HIM. this included his GYAXA application.

— he got over it one day, but he kind of started punching staplers to get the job done. clay was ballsy and would jump fences & stage sabotages but he would get nervous around staplers. (“IT’S TOO CLOSE!” grown ass man)

- was very conventionally attractive & overall kind. so “how are you still single?” was a common question at bars until clay started ranting (unprompted) about how much he hated the voice they use at crosswalks or some shit (“oh. that’s why.”)

- never really cared about winning in multiplayer games or anything. he just really really wanted to make sure a person of his choosing lost. cosmos picked the right guy for the job — sabotage was in his blood since day 1 when he was steering himself and apollo off the rails in that mario party minecart race

— btw he mained donkey kong in mario party. if you stole donkey kong from him you would be losing that game hell or high waters. he is stealing ALL YOUR STARS

- did his taxes on the last possible day (that, or apollo would do them for him because as much as he loved the guy, he really didn’t have high faith he’d get around to it. he…………. also probably did wright’s taxes while he was in the beanix phase. ….and athena’s because she didn’t know how. oh, someone please save apollo.)

[rocknrollsalad]

rating: gen cw: drinking/getting drunk, high society expectations, cranky steve and robin, period typical homophobia tags: no upside down au, rich kid steve au, steddie and Buckingham double date, chirstmas parties, Eddie learns whats in eggnog word count: 2412

-

written for the steddiemas prompt "eggnog" but it's a good week late, another victim of the plague I caught lol

“You better go collect your man,” Robin whispered, having appeared out of nowhere.

Steve hissed, “Stop calling him that.”

His eyes darted around the room, both to make sure he wasn’t heard. Robin was right, he hadn’t seen his boyfriend (who was definitely not his date tonight) in a while. Probably not a good sign.

“Well he is,” she scoffed.

“You are supposed to be my date, that’s the cover story. For you and for me. Doesn’t really work if you go around talking about how I really brought Eddie.”

It shut Robin up for a second, just long enough for Steve to enjoy the victory, before she said, “Tell your parents to stop being so uptight.”

Except the counter to that was the same as it always was. “And yours are so cool about it.”

Probably not the round and round Robin wanted when she walked up here on some high horse. One she had no business climbing on. She knew Steve was always a little extra stressed at these stupid dinner parties and that tonight was going to be worse. Instead of being supportive, it was almost like she was trying to sabotage things.

They could talk about it later. Right now, Steve apparently had to go find Eddie because there was no way Robin was saying that for fun. He was doing something. Probably making a run for it…which was smart. Steve could, at least, show him the best escape routes and let him know he didn’t take it personally.

Especially because it was a lot harder for Steve to make that run for it anymore. Ever since they’d brought him in from the kiddie room (which was actually the garage), his moves were tracked. Sure he wasn’t sharing one sad, toppingless pizza with a bunch of kids he didn’t know anymore but at what cost? At least the garage had video games…and no one talking about investments or how he should have gone to college.

Steve went off to find out what was going on with Eddie. Robin, in her endless helpfulness, decided to stay put and give no direction. It left Steve to go from room to room, asking everyone he could. No one had seen him. Something that was maybe a good thing? This meant he wasn’t standing on expensive furniture telling some amazing and elaborate story that would be wasted on these stuffy assholes.

Things got so desperate, Steve asked his mom if she’d seen Eddie. She always knew everything that was happening at these parties. Yet she hadn’t seen him. It seemed unlikely and a quick segue into tired reminders to not cause a scene. This one came with the bonus lecture of not ignoring his date because “no respectable woman is sidelined for a friend, dear.”

And nothing proved more that Steve’s mom didn’t see everything. Not only would he and Robin stick by each other through anything, she wasn’t even his actual date. Though, Steve did have to admit the only people in the world who believed they weren’t dating were them. Probably Chrissy and Eddie but sometimes Steve wasn’t so sure.

Moving on from his mom before he got roped into some mind-numbingly boring discussion, Steve ran into Chrissy. She was Eddie’s date who was really Robin’s date and had been folded into the group shenanigans. Which meant Steve was so ready to drag her into this quest. If he couldn’t have Robin, he could at least have help.

“We’ve lost your date,” Steve sighed, trying not to freak out yet.

“What do you mean?” she asked, instantly jumping to freaking out.

Steve linked their arms together and continued walking on, trying to think of where else he’d hide out. “Robin came up to me and told me to go collect my man. I thought he was doing something embarrassing but, like, I can’t find him. Do you think he’d leave?”

“No,” she cooed. “He’s been so worried about this night, there’s no way he’d leave you. He wouldn’t.”

Something that would have been so much more flattering if Steve had any fucking clue where the guy was.

“The garage!” Steve said, realizing the one place he hadn’t looked.

Chrissy didn’t say anything, just picked up her pace and they sped off toward the kiddie party. Of course. it was in the detached garage. Heaven forbid the kids breathed in the others, dad’s cars would lower in value at the mere thought.

So they barged through the door and onto the familiar path, still arm and arm, laser-focused on the only place it made sense for Eddie to be.

Before the door closed behind them, the soft exclamation of “Steve” was sung out and Chrissy and Steve both leaped into the grass, barely holding back screams as the voice startled them.

Steve easily moved Chrissy behind him as they both looked for the source of the voice, rather than some creepy old guy or party crasher, it was the exact person they were looking for. Both of them let out a matching, but quiet, exclamation for finding Eddie.

He was sat on a stone bench, leaning against the house, and smoking. Not only was he well hidden by shrubbery but Steve had expected to find him indoors. He needed that last glimmer of hope that Eddie was still at the party. And he hadn’t exactly left so that was…something?

“Hey man,” Eddie drawled out.

Steve’s eyes narrowed but he turned to make sure Chrissy was stable and had recovered from the little fright neither of them was going to speak about.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Chrissy said.

Resigning to her point, Steve nodded and went for the “what she said” shrug.

“I’ve been ri-ight here, baby.”

“He’s drunk,” Chrissy and Steve whispered to each other.

“Oh no!” Eddie cried out, dropping his head back. “Who told you?”

“I think you did, champ,” Chrissy laughed.

This probably wasn’t great. Steve went into panic mode immediately, ideas on what to do next sped through his mind followed by the consequences of each. A drunk Eddie was less likely to keep up the ruse, one he and Robin had organized so carefully.

It wasn’t time to come out, yet. Steve knew that time was rapidly approaching. Each and every day he had to lie about who he was with or what he was doing was another stab in the chest but at The Harrington Christmas Soiree? That was not the time. If they could just get into the new year, Steve would come clean, and probably get disowned, but at least it wouldn’t go down for “trying to steal the spotlight”.

Chrissy rubbed her hand between Steve’s shoulder blades. He had to be thinking awfully loudly right now. Where was Robin when he really needed her?

“I didn’t mean to,” Eddie pouted.

Steve watched Eddie pat around the bench and his own clothes, looking for his lighter. It was such a distinct move but it brought in this creeping feeling of normalcy with it. They’d done this before. Both drunk and sober.

As he had many times before, Steve reached into his pocket and got his lighter. Once he was close enough, he shielded the flame so Eddie could re-light his cigarette. Which he did with ease. The smoke billowed from Eddie and cleared both of their heads.

“How’s that work, though?” Steve asked. He then turned to Chrissy and leaned in a bit. “Could you go find Robin, remind her not to gloat, and maybe get a glass of water? In that order of importance.”

“She’s not going to gloat,” Chrissy said but it’s already an apology. They both know the truth. It’s part of Robin’s charm but it’s always extra annoying in moments like these.

“That’s the spirit, let's hope for Christmas miracles.”

They share a giggle that they’ve earned by being as close to Robin as they are and Chrissy disappeared back inside. Steve sat down next to Eddie and moved his hand so Steve could take a quick drag off the cigarette. He’s going to need it…or some of whatever Eddie had.

“Alright, what’s the story then?”

“Have you ever had eggnog,” Eddie asked. A question that feels wildly off topic but, again, he’s a little drunk so a coherent sentence is a great start.

“Yeah, it’s disgusting.”

“No-ooooooooo. No. Look, listen, I mean. It’s not. You’re wrong. Wayne makes it all the time,” Eddie leaned in closer, a hand cupped over his mouth as he whispered. “Every year.”

“Yeah, my parents do too. It’s nasty. The one in the punch bowl is the one you want.”

“Au contraire, that one has alcohol in it and I’m supposed to behave,” Eddie has his finger raised, wagging in the air like a cartoon teaching valuable life lessons.

“And so’s the eggnog.”

“Mmmmmm, no. I think I’d know that.”

“I…actually, yeah. I’d have thought you knew that too. Wait, so how– you know you’re drunk now, right?”

“Yeah but, ya know, we’re not telling Steve. He’s going to make me sleep on the couch for a whole week.”

“Sure,” Steve pressed his lips together and nodded. This was ridiculous and he kind of wished Eddie was just giving some rambunctious nerd speech. “But how’d you get drunk then?”

“Sabotage, obviously. The Harrington’s don’t want the heir to their throne with a commoner like me.”

“So they spiked your drink?”

“Totally.”

“Somehow complimentary you think they’d waste liquor on that,” Steve shrugged and he snatched Eddie’s pack of cigarettes to light one for himself.

“So it was Robin!”

“More believable actually. No, it was the eggnog.”

“There’s not alcohol in eggnog, Wayne wouldn’t give me it if there was.”

“Because you have to put it in, which my parents do.”

In a different situation, this would be funny. Steve might even find a way to laugh about it later but the guilt simmering in his chest for not teaching Eddie about which drinks had liquor is too strong to enjoy the laughable way his boyfriend accidentally got drunk.

All the solutions Steve had run through didn’t fit the situation anymore. They were likely both going to have to leave. Or worse, Eddie and Chrissy were and that’d ruin so many people’s nights.

Before he could think of a way to save everyone’s good time, Chrissy returned. Robin right behind her. Steve quickly stamped out the cigarette like Robin wouldn’t see and stood to talk to them.

He filled them in on the whole eggnog situation. It earned the appropriate level of laughter but once it subsided, they started trying to actually solve the problem. Eddie sat content on the bench, watching them adoringly as they worked out his fate. Steve had to give it to him, he was a very happy drunk.

“Hey, psst, hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” Eddie said as they were finalizing some plans to get him upstairs to Steve’s room and full of coffee.

“Oh my god,” Robin said, trying to shut him up.

Steve walked over, leaning into his space so he wasn’t towering over him. “Yeah, man. What’s up?”

“I just need you to know-”

“Oh boy.”

“I came in with a smoking hot blonde but she’s not really my date.”

With all the patience in his body, Steve let out a sigh that was every bitchy comeback he had rolled into one sound, and said “Yup.”

“You’re way better.”

“You didn’t even commit to that. At least hit on me. Ugh. Can you just be cool for like two more minutes?”

“Cool? Yeah? Yeah! I can be cool for so many minutes. Two, ten, six, eighty. I’m good at it.”

“You’re not, so we better do something quick.”

“We should fool around is what we should do. This place has to have so many rooms. I didn’t even peek in half of them.”

Steve turned around and looked at the girls, “I think we gotta leave.”

“You can’t leave your own family Christmas party,” Robin said.

“I’ve done it so many times. Chrissy and Eddie have to go because Eddie’s sick. You and me can work something else out.”

Eddie stood up and leaned on Steve. “You should have some of that eggnog. I guess they make it with alcohol here.”

“Will you stop acting like we don’t know each other!” Steve scrubbed his hand over his face.

Robin sucked her teeth, “Might be for the best, he won’t blow anyone’s cover that way.”

“But he’s being so obnoxious about it,” Steve groaned.

“Good thing he’s the only one being obnoxious,” Robin said, crossing her arms over her chest.

A pose Steve mirrored, “What do you suggest then?”

“Let him sleep it off. He’s right, there’s plenty of rooms here and all we have to do is tell the truth for once. He didn’t know there was alcohol in the eggnog.”

“I didn’t know. I gotta tell Wayne though, it’s way better this way.”

“Who doesn’t know,” Steve groaned. Not frustrated at Eddie for not knowing, not really, but stressed out by the situation and that had to go somewhere.

“What if,” Chrissy said with her shoulders pulled up to her ears. The meek injection spoke to her nervousness but she got everyone’s attention. “We joined Eddie?”

Eddie, who was draped on Steve’s back with an arm over his shoulder and idly rubbing Steve’s chest, hummed in approval. The comfort of Eddie’s weight had Steve forgetting everything they were supposed to be hiding as he melted into the comfort and contact.

Still, he and Robin voiced matching sounds of confusion.

“It’s not embarrassing if the ‘kids’ got drunk. It’s our first time here, they almost expect us to overdo it so…let’s overdo it. Eddie won’t be the one who didn’t know this or that, we’ll all just be young adults doing what’s expected of us.”

Steve pondered the plan. “We couldn’t go wild.”

“It’s not a frat house,” Robin said for Chrissy.

Eddie gave a soft “Yeah” that Steve knew was meant to mock Robin but came out like agreement.

“It could work.”

“It could be fun!” Chrissy cooed, jumping up and down a few times. Maybe they all needed to take the edge off here.

The hand that was on Steve’s chest now held his cheek as Eddie kissed the other one.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go have some fun,” Steve groaned, doing his best to act like he hated this.

“Finally!”

[anonymousewrites]

Lavender for Royalty; Sage for Wisdom

Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Chapter Nine: Heliotrope for Devotion

Summary: While the Host Club argues about the events at the beach, Kyoya decides to try to teach a lesson.

            “I can’t believe Tamaki said that,” said Haruhi, still fuming as she and (Y/N) went to the basement. The lights had gone out due to the storm, so they needed to flip up the circuit breaker. “What does being a girl have to do with anything?”

            “Even if we got into a bit of trouble, it was the right thing to do,” agreed (Y/N). “We can’t just run away when men act like that. It lets them get away with it again.”

            “Are you sure you’re okay, though, senpai?” said Haruhi. “You hit the water pretty hard.”

            (Y/N) smiled. “Yes, I’m fine.”

            Haruhi breathed out a sigh of relief. “I don’t think Tamaki is right, but I would have felt pretty bad if you’d gotten hurt,” she admitted.

            “You wouldn’t have to,” said (Y/N). “It was my decision to fight them like I did. If I hadn’t landed the hits I did, they wouldn’t have thrown me over the cliff.” (Y/N) walked to the circuit breaker and flipped it. The lights flickered back on, and (Y/N) smiled at Haruhi. “And I don’t regret hitting them. It was extremely satisfying.” They grinned wider. “The only thing I regret is not breaking that guy’s arm when I had the chance. I had the right leverage, just a little more force…” They brightened. “Oh, well. It wouldn’t have been the best for my reputation, I suppose.”

            “Senpai…You’re a little scary.” Haruhi sweat-dropped.

            (Y/N) chuckled. “Let’s get to dinner.”

            Haruhi nodded, and they walked back up the stairs together.

            “By the way, how did you end up in a sundress?” said (Y/N). “Did Tamaki put that in your room?”

            “My dad,” said Haruhi, deadpanning. “He replaced all my changes of clothes.”

            (Y/N) chuckled. “That sounds like your dad. You can borrow some of my clothes if you don’t feel comfortable.” They had simple loose trousers and some simple collared shirts—put-together enough as a host but relaxed enough to just hang with their friends.

            “I don’t mind dresses,” said Haruhi, shrugging. She glanced at (Y/N) as they walked. “Do you…?”

            “Mind dresses?” (Y/N) waved a hand. “Don’t worry. I don’t mind answering questions.” They shrugged. “I don’t mind dresses. I wear a lot of masc clothing during school, but I occasionally wear some fem clothing when off campus.”

            Haruhi nodded in understanding and pushed open the door of the dining room where the other hosts and Nekozawa were playing some strange game (really, the hosts were playing, and Nekozawa was “terrorizing” Tamaki). Tamaki and Nekozawa were screaming as the lights flickered on, and Haruhi rolled her eyes.

            “The circuit breaker was down,” said Haruhi. “We found it in the basement and flicked it up.”

            “No ghosts,” said (Y/N).

            “…Haruhi, are those clothes yours?” said Hikaru, surprised.

            “Yeah. My dad repacked my bag,” said Haruhi. “Not very practical, but it’s what I had.”

            Good job Haruhi’s dad! thought the twins and Honey (and Tamaki, secretly, but he was still frustrated with Haruhi).

            “Haruhi, you’re so cute!” said Honey.

            “Where’d Nekozawa go?” said (Y/N), looking around. The host of the Host Club had disappeared.

            “He wanted to turn in early,” said Kyoya, not looking up from his notebook. (Y/N) frowned as their heart clenched at his lack of acknowledgement of them. “The electricity was a shock to him.”

            “(Y/N), Haru, we have fancy tuna!” said Honey, gesturing the table.

            They sat down, and Haruhi was about to reach for the fancy tuna, but, childishly, Tamaki grabbed it and stuffed it into his mouth (he wanted Tamaki’s attention but wasn’t willing to speak to her). Everyone deadpanned, and (Y/N)’s eyebrow twitched.

            “There’s…um…crab, too!” said Honey hurriedly.

            “I’ll have that,” said Haruhi, picking it up and cracking it open.

            (Y/N), wisely staying out of the situation, reached out to eat some oyster spaghetti instead of crab.

            “Crab, Tamaki? Here.” Haruhi held out a leg.

            Everyone stared. She was talking to him? Tamaki’s eyes widened, and he took it. He deadpanned.

            “It’s just the shell,” said Haruhi, monotone.

            Payback for the tuna… thought everyone.

            In retaliation, Tamaki reached for some crab, but Haruhi stabbed the table with her knife, blocking his path.

            “Haruhi can be…childish, apparently,” said Kaoru.

            Kyoya hummed slightly in acknowledgement, but as he looked up, his eyes only went to (Y/N) where they ate calmly. They didn’t seem shaken or thinking at all about what they had done in the afternoon, the danger they’d been in.

            “Who do you think you are, the twins?!” said Tamaki, glaring at Haruhi.

            “I thought you weren’t talking to me?” said Haruhi, rolling her eyes.

            A giant irk mark appeared on Tamaki’s forehead “So you have no intention of reconsidering. Fine, then! I’m going to bed!” He walked to the door, and a servant bowed.

            “I will show you to your room. This way,” said the servant.

            Tamaki peered down the dark, spooky corridor. “Um…Kyoya…?” He pouted. “Aren’t you ready for bed?”

            Kyoya sighed and stood. “I’ll turn in early, too.”

            He and Tamaki headed out, and (Y/N)’s eyes remained on the door as it swung closed. They hesitated before standing. “I’m going to head to bed, too.” They smiled. “Goodnight, everyone.”

            “’Night!” said Honey.

            “I’ll see you in the morning,” said Haruhi, nodding.

            (Y/N) headed to the door and stepped out. They turned down the hall and walked in the direction of their and the rest of the hosts’ rooms. They were tired, yes, but they had business to attend to before dinner. Tamaki and Haruhi fighting was disrupting the peace, and they needed to get them to talk things out and explain they were both right and wrong—Haruhi and (Y/N) had gotten into some trouble, but they had done the right thing, and Tamaki had been right to be a bit worried, but he had been wrong to get angry instead of expressing his concern in a healthy manner.

            And so, (Y/N) was going to talk to Kyoya. He knew Tamaki well, (Y/N) knew Haruhi well, and together they could get them to talk. (Sure, Kyoya preferred not to get involved in these things, but (Y/N) knew he would want the Host Club to remain cordial and working well).

            They arrived at his door and knocked. “Kyoya?” The door opened at their simple knock, not completely closed. Awkwardly, (Y/N) stepped in and looked around. “Kyoya?” A gust of wind blew the door closed, (Y/N) jumped. The shutters banged as the winds of the storm picked up, and (Y/N) huffed. They walked over and pulled the window closed properly.

            “(Y/N)?”

            (Y/N) turned, and their face could’ve been painted red. Kyoya stood in the doorway of the bathroom, shirtless with pajama pants hanging loosely around his hips. Quickly, they bowed apologetically. “I’m so sorry, the door was opened, I didn’t realize you were showering—”

            “It’s fine,” said Kyoya, running a hand through his damp hair. Without his glasses on, his dark eyes were more piercing than usual, and as his gaze landed on (Y/N), they found themself rooted in place. “I wanted to speak to you.”

            “You did?” (Y/N) had thought he was frustrated or something since he hadn’t spoken, but if he wanted to talk, that was good, right?

            “Yes. You and Haruhi caused quite some trouble for us,” said Kyoya. He walked towards (Y/N). “Tamaki told me the twins nearly tried to kill those boys. We had to send flowers worth several thousand dollars to our guests.”

            (Y/N) winced. That was trouble.

            “But there is an easy solution.”

            Kyoya stood in front of (Y/N), and as they took a step back—oh my god, he’s so close, spiraled their thoughts—their legs hit the bed. Kyoya caught them as they teetered back, and he lowered them to the bed. (Y/N)’s eyes widened as he leaned over them, his legs between theirs, one hand at their waist as their shirt rode up to expose skin, and the other above their head. Instinctively, (Y/N)’s hands went to his shoulders, unsure of what was about to happen. This was very forward of Kyoya, and their heart thumped quickly in their chest.

            “You can pay me back with your body,” said Kyoya, his breath ghosting over their ear. “After all…I’m a man. You’re attractive and weaker than me. It would be quite easy for me to take advantage of that.”

            And then all of (Y/N)’s surprise, nervousness, and tiny amount of fear left them. They smiled and laughed. Kyoya’s eyes widened slightly at the reaction, and (Y/N) lifted a hand to his cheek.

            Kyoya’s heart thumped suddenly in his chest at the touch and the softness in their gaze as they looked up at him. Suddenly, although he had intentionally placed himself in such a situation, Kyoya was acutely aware of the feeling of their legs almost wrapped around his hips and his hand on the skin of their waist. He sat back, heart still pounding, and (Y/N) sat up.

            “You were trying to teach me a lesson, weren’t you?��� said (Y/N) gently. They chuckled and shook their head. “You certainly do things in a unique way.”

            “You were in danger,” said Kyoya. “You didn’t even think; you immediately put yourself in harm’s way.” His dark gaze pierced (Y/N)’s once more. “Do you understand what it felt—what is was like to see you falling from the cliff? If you had hit a rock, you would be dead. Or if those boys had done something to you—”

            “I know,” said (Y/N), reaching out and touching Kyoya’s arm boldly. “I know I should’ve thought more. Haruhi and I should’ve hit them and run with the girls. But we gave the guests a chance to leave, first. We’d rather be in danger than them.” They smiled gently and squeezed his arm slightly. “And I can’t regret protecting people. Do you understand, Kyoya? I don’t regret it. I understood the danger. I know what men are capable of. But…thank you for worrying.”

            “How did you know?” said Kyoya, looking at them. “How did you know I wasn’t capable of that?” He needed them to understand there was always danger. He didn’t want them to trust the wrong person and get hurt. He didn’t want them hurt.

            “Kyoya, you wouldn’t take advantage of someone,” said (Y/N) simply. “That’s not who you are.” They smiled at him. “I could never fear you.”

            Kyoya stared at them, and that sudden twisting in his heart lit up into a fire. Oh. He had never felt this feeling, but he recognized it immediately. He knew it from the way he watched the moonlight slant across their face—the one that was so handsome. He knew it from the way he enjoyed the softness in their gaze. He knew it from the way he listened so eagerly to their honesty and trust. Kyoya liked (Y/N). He had feelings for them.

            Kyoya smiled slightly and chuckled as the feeling welled up in his heart. “That’s not who I am? I’m sure many would disagree.”

            “You’re strategic, sure,” said (Y/N). “You’re the Shadow King of the Host Club. But you’re not a cruel man. Not in that way. Not ever. I trust you.”

            “What an interesting notion…” said Kyoya softly, gazing at them. His hand raised to cover theirs on his arm. “You have a strange perspective of me.”

            “I’m your friend. I see you for who you are,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            Kyoya’s newfound feelings burned more ferociously within his heart as he heard their words. “I…apologize for attempting to frighten you. It was wrong of me.”

            “It was,” said (Y/N). “But I don’t mind. I’m alright.” In fact, it was kind of nice… They had to quickly shake that thought away. They dropped their hand from his arm and stood. “I’ll leave you now. I just wanted to say that Haruhi and Tamaki need to talk.”

            “Tamaki already plans to speak to Haruhi,” said Kyoya.

            “Good,” said (Y/N). They smiled. “Well…goodnight, Kyoya.”

            “Goodnight, (Y/N).” He watched them head to the door and hesitated. “(Y/N).”

            They looked back at him. “Yes, Kyoya?”

            “I’m glad you’re alright. I don’t enjoy seeing you in danger,” said Kyoya. He was quite pleased as (Y/N) smiled wider.

            “I know,” said (Y/N). “Thank you for saving me.”

            Kyoya nodded and watched them leave. As the door swung closed, he spoke softly. “I always will.”

Taglist:

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[swanimagines]

Hello! So I've been reading a lot of your works *cough* mainly Kaz and Pin *cough* and I was wondering if I could request one? If so, A6 from your dialogue prompt list with Kaz Brekker. Have a great day <3

Prompt: A6. “Ugh, people are so weird.”

A/N: I still can't look at him without remembering I actually have HUGGED that man and I get to do it once more in two months I-

RUMOUR TOLD ME

Ketterdam, in its darkness and grimness, was the last place Kaz would expect to find someone like you. You, a cheery, warm person who believed all people were good unless proven otherwise. And even working with the Dregs hadn’t wiped that attitude off you, which had always puzzled Kaz. And maybe it was the way you always saw the good in everyone was what made him develop feelings for you. Or rather, as he convinced himself, he was maybe slightly interested, but not necessarily romantically.

Either way, he treated you like he had always treated you, as another Crow, and he thought everyone else thought so too. And maybe that’s why it was so shocking when you came to the Slat one day, laughing as you slid to sit at the bar counter, one stool away from Kaz.

He stared at you for a moment, and you locked eyes with him. “I just heard the funniest thing.”

“Can’t wait to hear it,” Kaz mumbled, glancing at the barkeeper who immediately started preparing a drink for him.

“There’s a rumour circling around that Kaz Brekker has a crush,” you snickered, and Kaz immediately froze. “And the crush being me. Ugh, people are so weird.”

A short silence descended upon you, and your giggling echoed in Kaz’s mind.

He closed his eyes for a moment. Get it together, Brekker.

“And you find it funny?” Kaz grumbled, which earned a frown from you.

“Well, we are complete opposites. I mean, I guess people who sent this rumour going are probably avid romance novel readers whose favourite trope is ‘opposites attract’ but I have no idea what kind of drink they took to get themselves so drunk that they spun out this kind of theory.” You shrugged, gesturing to the barkeeper to prepare a drink for you too.

Kaz scowled. “Those kinds of rumours should be cut off before they have a chance to fly.”

You laughed. “Oh come on Kaz, it’s just some children spinning stories for their entertainment, it won’t hurt anyone.”

Kaz almost barked at you, telling you that children of Ketterdam should know better than joke with things like that before someone teaches them what it’s like to lose the fun in their life forever, but he held himself back. His mind momentarily filled with pictures of what could happen if the wrong kind of people found out about that rumour and believed it. You’d disappear and eventually come back to the Slat, carried by Matthias, with a knife in your heart, your body already cold, eyes open, beginning to rotten, your mouth opened in an eternal scream–

Kaz shook his head, forcing himself to stop thinking about that scenario. 

“Rumours are dangerous,” he said, leaning towards you slightly. “Even ridiculous ones.”

You scoffed, waving your hand. “I know, but no one is going to believe something like that.”

Kaz withdrew, taking his cane and gripping the silver crow head. He wanted to tell you you’re off duty for a while. He wanted to claim he needed help in office work, which would bind you into Slat for a few weeks. He wanted to find whoever is spreading this rumour and warn them off, threaten them. Maybe even break their legs to ensure they won’t sing about it.

But even if that would work, and Kaz knew it would, it could be a sign that the rumour actually had truth to it. It would make him look weak, even if that person would never tell about his visit.

You got the drink and downed it, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, before you looked at Kaz again. “Do you have any tasks for me? If not, Inej said she’d like to have company when she goes to run an errand but if you have something more important to do, I’ll pass on that.”

Kaz clenched his jaw, staring at his still full glass of kvas. “No.” Be careful.

You nodded and disappeared to the crowd, and Kaz told himself to not look at you walking away. And as soon as your steps faded, he downed the drink and stood up, making his way to the attic. He needed to take his mind off of… this, whatever it was.

But of course, on his way, he came across Jesper waiting by Wylan’s door, spinning his other revolver. Kaz already saw from Jesper’s grin what he was going to say, that he had also heard the rumours. “Hey, Boss. Word is you’ve got a crush on our Sunshine the Second.”

Kaz cocked an eyebrow at him. “What makes you think that?”

Jesper stopped spinning his revolver and shrugged. “Well. It’s been obvious for all of us for a while. I suspected it, so I told Nina, and she listened to your heartbeat while our star Sunshine was around, and–”

“And nothing,” Kaz barked. “Whatever you have heard or understood, is not true.”

Jesper cackled, and Kaz wanted nothing more than to stuff the handle of Jesper’s beloved revolver into his throat at that moment. But it was more because he realised everyone knew. His Crows, at least, knew.

When Jesper stopped cackling, his tone was more serious. “But hey, I understand that this… thing isn’t a good thing to be circling around. If you want some of us to go uh, find out who put the rumour to circle in the first place, just tell us.” He winked. “And of course, no telling your beloved.”

Kaz thought, staring at Jesper. He wanted to keep denying it, tell Jesper everyone are idiots, doubt Nina’s skills as a heartrender. But he knew that nothing would work anymore, everything would just confirm their every suspicion, those that were true and those that were not true.

So he nodded. “Deal with it. Quietly.”

Jesper nodded in return. “Always, boss.”

And when Kaz continued ascending the steps, he could almost hear Jesper’s grin. If there had been some doubt in Jesper’s mind, now there most definitely wasn’t.

Kaz knew that his Crows knowing except for you was miles better than the whole Ketterdam knowing. If everyone knew, or if such suspicions would rise to any extent, they would inevitably eventually go straight to rivaling gangs. And at that point, depending on how stupid they were, they could follow the rumour just in case and ambush you.

They would be stupid because if you were killed by a gang, Kaz wouldn’t rest before each one’s guts had painted every wall of their past territory, but they would also be smart because they’d take away the one thing Kaz truly cared about in this world, and it would be the second time around. Kaz wasn’t sure if he would ever recover, which would potentially make him weak in a way, maybe even suicidal with his hunger for bloodshed. He could be the most feared person in all of Kerch for a few weeks, but constantly throwing himself in situations he could get killed would eventually kill him. It could even be his goal, to die fighting and take as many of his enemies with him before that.

But after those little gossipers would be getting caught and warned off, things would maybe become better, and Kaz would be able to forget about this whole mess.

---

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[jessicaloons]

INVISIBLE STRING: FROM THE VAULT

Part 3: A Christmassy story…

Masterlist

Merry Christmas everyone 🎄🎅🏻♥️

Better late than never! As it is during Christmas, it all gets a little hectic and what I wanted to post last night had to be postponed to today… it’s a little something I started to write a year ago, at Christmas, while watching one of my all time favourite Christmas movies.

And now no more talking, here it is…

Christmas 2027:

"Radiation?" Joris cocked an eyebrow.

"Radiation." I shrugged my shoulders and he chuckled "Don’t ask. It’s- it’s her newest ick…"

"You’re surrounded by radiation the entire day with having your phone with you? So where’s the difference at ni-…"

"That’s exactly the point. Your body is exposed to radiation all day long, so at night, when it resets, there shouldn’t be any radiation!" Lizzie’s voice rang out behind us, making Joris flinch "I’ve read it in various magazines! So it can’t be that wrong!"

I had to chuckle, looking at Joris’ petrified face when Lizzie glared at me, although I could see her eyes getting watery.

"It’s not funny!" her voice strained.

"It’s not, cara mia. You’re right. I’m sorry." I replied.

"I’m not crazy…" she sniffled a little and I felt bad.

"No, you’re not! I know that, okay?" I said immediately and got up from my seat, cupping her cheek and gently stroked the side of her bump "You’re doing everything to protect our babies… so whatever you think is best we’ll do! You’re an amazing mum, okay?"

She only nodded slightly and turned away, her shoulders slumped.

"I lay down for a bit…" she whispered and waddled off, taking a short look into Emmie’s room, before she continued to our bedroom.

"I swear I didn’t want to upset her!" Joris looked at me with big eyes and I sighed, sitting back down.

"Believe me, same. The last 2 or 3 days it’s been tough, she’s more emotional than usually…" I rubbed my temples, leaning back "One moment she’s happy and bubbly, the next moment she cries about how there’s only one apple left and that it might feel alone… and then she’s mad at herself for crying about such ridiculous things which makes her cry even more because she thinks I’m annoyed of her being an emotional mess… which is not true at all. I love it. I swear."

"You’re probably the only guy on earth who loves his pregnant wife’s mood swings." Joris laughed.

"It’s cute… when she’s this bubbly Lizzie, who turns over a jar she can’t open first super frustrated and then grumpy like never seen before and curses it like there’s no tomorrow, just to be sad the next moment that whatever’s in the jar is lost forever…"

"And then you chime in and save the day…" he wiggled with his eyebrows and I held up my hands.

"You know, not all heroes wear capes… but they still get a proper thank you… if you know what I mean…"

"Yeah. No. Gross…"

Right when I wanted to reply I heard the soft steps of Emmie and Arlo approaching and when I turned a little I saw them both walk around the corner.

"Dada? Mummy look sad?" her sweet little voice sounded truly concerned and I opened my arms, hoisting her up into my lap "Why mummy sad?"

"She’s not sad, Emmie. Just a little emotional."

"Emonal?" she repeated and I smiled.

"Emotional…" I said slowly, while she quietly said the word again "That’s when you feel all sorts of emotions… that’s feelings. Sad, happy, tired, funny, moody… and you just don’t know what’s the real feeling. So you get a little overwhelmed with emotions… it’s nothing bad. It happens. Especially when someone carries a baby, or like mummy two, in their belly…"

"Mummy feel for baby one and baby two?" Emmies eyes widened and I had to chuckle.

"Yes, my little princess, that’s exactly what mummy’s feeling. Her feelings and baby one and twos feelings."

"Lot of feelings!"

"Oh yes! A lot of feelings!" I nodded and she sighed, cuddling into my chest "You know what? Why don’t you help me and Joris make some hot chocolate for mummy?"

Emmie’s eyes lit up and she jumped off my lap, already pulling me up on my feet before she grabbed onto Joris hand, doing the same.

"Comes on, Jojo! Hot chotlat for mummy!" she chirped and pulled him with her.

"I’m coming, Emmie-bug." he laughed and picked her up, following me into the kitchen, where he sat her down on the kitchen island.

"Emmie hot chotlat, too!" she looked first at me and then at Joris with her big puppy eyes and I could melt away on the spot.

"Let’s make hot chocolate for us all, okay? And then we can watch a movie before bedtime, how does that sound?"

"No bedtime."

"Emmie, we have to get up early tomorrow! We’re leaving for Christmas!" I reminded her but she shook her head.

"No bedtime." she repeated, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"No bedtime means no Christmas, and no Christmas means no pops and grams, no granny, no Liam or Elijah… no Arthi!"

"No Arthi?" Emmie whispered and I nodded.

"Also no presents…"

"Emmie like bedtime."

"Yeah?" I asked and she nodded.

"Bedtime comfy. Jojo read story?" she turned and looked at him "Pwease?"

"Of course, Emmie-bug. Every story you want!" he cooed at her and she clapped happily.

"Now chotlat for mummy!"

"Now chocolate for mummy."

"Charles?" Lizzie whispered and I turned a little, trying to make her out in the dark "I’m sorry…"

"What do you mean?" I asked, voice still hoarse from sleeping. I looked around, my eyes trying to adjust to the darkness and saw her perched against the headboard.

"For being over emotional… and unreasonable…" she said and I sat up to switch on the lamp on the night stand.

"Hey, you’re not over emotional or unreasonable!" I replied, rubbing my eyes, facing her.

"I am. The other day I cried because of a pair of socks I had to throw away since one of them had holes…"

"It was a nice pair of socks!"

"Charles…" Lizzie chuckled and I grabbed her hand, kissing her knuckles "I’m serious! I feel like I’m way worse than when I was pregnant with Emmie!"

"Yeah of course! You’re carrying twins, cara mia! Double the trouble!"

"Is that why I could eat all the damn time? I’m always hungry…" she sighed and I laughed, looking at her pouting.

"And what does my pretty girl want right now?"

"Now? Oh… umm… I’m not hungry…" she looked away and I gently grabbed her chin, turning her head.

"Lizzie… I know you… it’s 1 am that’s your time… so, what can I get for you?" I stifled a yawn.

"I’m fine… you’re tired and we’ll be picked up early…" she mumbled but I shook my head.

"Pretty girl…" I scooted closer, cupping her cheek "What do you want? Fruits? Something salty? Ice cream? A burger?"

"Some sour gums and-… it’s weird, because usually I don’t like them… salt and vinegar crisps? Do we have that?"

"On it…" I pecked her lips and shuffled out of the bed, stretching as soon as I stood up "Anything else?"

"Umm… one of these strawberry lemonades maybe?"

"Anything my pretty girl wants." I said, grabbing my sweatpants that got stuck somehow and I pulled harder almost tripping over when I finally freed it.

"Are you okay?" Lizzie looked at me and I nodded.

"It got stuck somehow… I don’t know… get comfy I’ll be right back." I slipped on my pants and left our bedroom, down the hall to the kitchen I stopped at Emmie’s bedroom and took a look inside.

Our little girl tucked in under her blankets, Arlo guarding her, sleeping right in front of her bed. He must’ve felt my presence, lifting his head looking at me. He got up, yawned and then trotted over, tilting his head.

"All good, Arlo. Just me." I whispered, kneeling down "Go watch our little princess." I stroked his fluffy fur, scratched his ears before he stretched “Ohhh big stretch! Good boy." I scratched his ears and got up "Go back to sleep…" he turned around and walked away, plopping down back at his old spot.

I rummaged through the pantry, grabbing everything Lizzie graved and trotted back to our bedroom, where a big smile spread over her face as soon as she saw me walk in.

"I can already taste the lemonade…" she made grabby hands and I laughed, handing her the can of lemonade and the crisps and sour gums.

I climbed in bed next to her, lying down and watching how she happily scrunched up her nose as soon as she ate the first sour gum, closing her eyes savouring the taste.

"Remind me to pack strawberry lemonade, salt and vinegar crisps and sour patch kids…" I yawned.

"I’m so excited for Christmas, our last without the twins… next year we’re already a family of 6…" Lizzie whispered and I cocked an eyebrow.

"6?"

"6…"

"Of course… Arlo…"

"I told you he’s our first born." Lizzie’s happy giggling made me smile and I nodded.

"You’re right. He is. And he’s an amazing big brother, guarding his little sister."

"He’s a good boy." she happily munched and I smiled, yawning again "You can sleep… you don’t have to stay awake with me…"

"Yeah?" I mumbled, fighting to keep my eyes open.

"Yeah…" Lizzie replied and leaned down, kissing my cheek "Thank you…"

"You need anything else?" I asked but she shook her head.

"No. We’re all good now. Sleep, pretty boy."

I didn’t know if I replied or not, I fell asleep almost immediately.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

An annoying ringing inside my head. But was it inside my head? I groaned and turned around, Lizzie next to me fast asleep, the ringing that definitely wasn’t just inside my head didn’t seem to bother her.

"Dada… make it stop…" Emmie rubbed her eyes, stumbling to our bed, her hair her a hot mess "Head owie!"

"I know…" I picked her up and sat her next to Lizzie "I’ll go…" I kissed her cheek and scrambled out of bed, looking for the source of the horrific sound. The door bell. And the landline phone. Both ringing at the same time. Just like my phone "What the hell?" I grabbed my phone and picked up "Hello?"

"Ah, Mr. Leclerc! Finally! I wanted to come up myself and look if everything is alright!" Matthieu, our concierge, said and the landline phone and door bell stopped ringing.

"Of course, everything’s alright? Why wouldn’t it be?" I was confused, looking around.

"There are two cars here to pick you up. They’ve been waiting for a while now and we tried to call you then-…"

"What?! But the cars should be here at 8?" I replied.

"Mr. Leclerc, it’s 8:30 am…"

"WHAT? What? How? I- what?" I checked the time at my phone and cursed "Oh shit… umm tell the drivers we’ll need a moment…"

"Can I send them up to get your bags?" Matthieu asked and I nodded.

"Yes. Everything is packed. All the bags are at the elevator…" I hastily walked back into our bedroom, pushing the buttons to open up the blinds.

"Alright. I’ll tell them." he hung up and I gently shook Lizzie.

"Cara mia? Wake up please… we need to get ready…"

"Hmm?" she mumbled, blinking a few times.

"The cars are already here… we need to get ready." I said again and her eyes shot open.

"What? But you set your alarm? What?" she scrambled up looking at Emmie next to her "Did we oversleep?"

"I don’t know. I didn’t hear the alarm. But that doesn’t matter. We need to get ready. Now. Come on." I pulled her gently off the bed and she sighed "I take care of Emmie, okay?"

"Hmm…" Lizzie mumbled and waddled away to the bathroom, yawning "Did you not set the alarm?"

"I did. I don’t know what happened…" I mumbled and picked up Emmie "Come on girlie, let’s get ready."

"Ready for Crimas!" she clapped her hands and I chuckled.

"Christmas. And no. Not quite yet. We have to get there first."

"To Christ-as?" she tried again.

"Almost, Christmas, with an 'm'… Christ- mas."

"Christ-mas." she repeated and I smiled.

"You got it right, Emmie! Good girl!" I sat her down on her bed and grabbed the clothes Lizzie had put out already "Now let’s get dressed and then we’ll have a little snack in the car, how does that sound?"

"Car?" she tilted her head, scrunching her nose.

"Yeah, we have to drive to the airport. And then we get into the jet to fly to Switzerland. To this big chalet in the mountains where all our family is waiting! To celebrate-…"

"Christmas!" she clapped excitedly and I nodded.

"Exactly! But we’re a little late. So we need to hurry up a little!"

"Houwy up! Houwy up!"

"That we have to! So let’s have a look. You look adorable, now we just need to take care of your hair and-…" I began when I saw Lizzie waddling towards the kitchen, still in her pyjamas "Alright… wait a minute…" I sat her down "You pack your sleep plushies into your backpack and play a little with Arlo, okay? I’ll be right back and make your hair." Emmie nodded and I followed Lizzie into the kitchen, finding her rummaging through the fridge "Lizzie?"

"Why is there no food?" she sniffled, turning around "I’m hungry. But there is nothing to eat. What am I supposed to do now?"

"Cara mia, we have breakfast in the jet, okay? It’s all prepared-…"

"But I’m hungry now!" she was grumpy "The babies and I are hungry now!"

"I understand, but we have nothing here, because we’re leaving now… we can stop at a bakery on the way?" I tried it again and she sighed.

"Okay… I go and take a shower…" she walked past me and I followed her.

"Cara mia, you don’t need to shower. We don’t have time. You can shower as soon as we arrive in the chalet…" I said carefully but she shook her head.

"I smell… I’m not arriving smelly for Christmas…"

"Technically it’s not Christmas yet, so… and also you don’t smell… you just had a bath last night and I can still smell your coconut butter on your skin, so please. Just get dressed and let’s go. The cars are waiting. For over half an hour now…"

"Then why didn’t you set the alarm?" she looked at me annoyed.

"I did! I don’t know why it didn’t went off! Stupid alarm clock…" I walked over to my night stand to find the alarm clock to be off, not plugged into the wall "What the… oh no… my sweatpants… fuck…" I mumbled, remembering the struggle I had at night with my pants "With my phone this wouldn’t have happen…" I groaned more to myself when a half naked Lizzie stepped out of the closet.

"What did you say?" she cocked an eyebrow and I held my hands up "Is it my fault now for protecting our babies? Last night you said I was the best mum because of it!" her bottom lip began to wobble and I hastily pulled her into me.

"And I meant it! Okay? It’s all good. Just-… please get ready. I feel bad for the drivers to wait this long because of me… and the jet and everything…" I whispered against the side of her head, kissing her temple.

"Okay. I’m almost done…" she breathed out "You need to get dressed yourself…"

"On it…"

15 minutes later I strapped Emmie into her seat and gave the driver the all clear to drive, although I had a feeling like we forgot something at home. I was nervously fidgeting with my phone next to Lizzie who happily munched on the croissant I got her from the bakery.

"What is it?" she asked after another minute of me nervously tapping my foot.

"I feel like we forgot something…" I mumbled, going over the list inside my head "I just don’t know what…"

"It can’t be important if you don’t remember it."

"I don’t know…" I looked outside the window, the car approaching the little private airport.

We had all of the bags, there was nothing left when we left the penthouse. I checked Emmie’s backpack and she had packed all her night plushies. Arlo laid on the floor in front of me, his bag with his toys and leashes in the back. Lizzie packer her bag with her books and computer last night herself and it rested now next to her on the seat. The bag with her snacks on the floor next to my feet. I couldn’t grasp what was missing but still I felt like it.

"Charles?" Lizzie grabbed my hand, squeezing it "We’ve got everything. It’s fine, you’ll see…"

"Yeah… I hope so…" I mumbled watching the car in front with our baggage stopping on the tarmac "It’s too late now anyways I guess…" I unbuckled Emmie and got out of the car, taking her with me. I helped Lizzie out of the car and she took Emmie from me, walking with Arlo towards the jet while I helped loading our baggage onto the cart, before I walked up the stairs of the jet myself.

"Welcome on board, Mr. Leclerc." the pilot shook my hand and I smiled.

"Thank you, and sorry for the delay… it got a little hectic this morning…"

"All good, Sir. Why don’t you take a seat and we’re preparing for take off."

"Thank you." I took off my jacket, handing it to the flight attendant who stored it away.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" she smiled and I shook my head, sitting down on front off Lizzie, Emmie next to her on the seat, looking outside the window.

I leaned my head back. Closing my eyes. One last time going over the list in my head. One last time going over every piece of baggage we just unloaded from the car. Lizzie’s suitcases, my suitcases, Emmie’s suitcases, the bags full off her and Arlo’s toys, the bags full of presents. The bag with Lizzie’s snacks and last but not least the 2 suitcases and backpack of…

"JORIS!" I shouted, Lizzie and Emmie both looking at me "WE FORGOT JORIS!" I took my phone out, about to call him when he already did the same.

"Jo-…"

"I can’t believe you forgot me at home…"

"I swear-…"

"Like seriously? What is this? Home alone? Your alarm doesn’t go off and you forget me in all the hectic?"

"I’m so sorry! I send the ca-…"

"Just be glad it’s more like Home Alone 2. I woke up by myself and-…" he hung up "And got in the car right in time… I just wanted to wait how long it would take you to figure out that I wasn’t with you…" Joris walked inside the jet, plopping down in the seat next to us.

"I’m so so sorry!" I looked at him sheepishly and Emmie climbed off her seat, walking over to Joris who picked her up, sitting her down in his lap.

"Jojo made Emmie hair look nice." she smiled and I looked at her, then at him.

"What?" I said and looked at Lizzie "I thought you did that?"

"I thought you did?" she replied and Joris laughed.

"Nope, I did, right Emmie bug?" he cooed at her and she smiled "And now that we’re all here… I say let’s go. Christmas is just right around the corner…"

"Christmas with pesents! Pesents for evyone!" Emmie said excited, clapping her hands "Mewwy Christmas evyone!"

🎄🎅🏻♥️🎄🎅🏻♥️🎄🎅🏻♥️🎄🎅🏻♥️🎄🎅🏻♥️🎄

I hope you enjoyed this (not so) little something and I hope you all had amazing Holidays!

Taglist: (If you don’t like to be tagged for this, let me know)

@itsjustkhaos @eugene-emt-roe @sunny44 @silkenthusiasts @glitterquadricorn @aundercover @kakorrhaphiphobia @alittlebitofbooksandmagic @ru-kru @shimmermotorsport @janeh22 @kahhorri @18754389 @chiliwhore @hellowgoodbye @queensassybitchsworld @harrysdimple05 @skynel09 @fangirlforever2000



[feng-shui71]

soo since i love your content i wanna ask more ask's muhahaha>:D in all seriousness, how is Jordan's relationship with Chris (or the other S.T.A.R.S members in that case) like i figured that Chris wont be glad after finding out his traitor of an captain is married to his friend/comrade

Ohhh!!! I love asks like these yes yes

Formatted in headcanons because I didn’t feel like writing paragraphs, just thinking of it is giving me a headache. Includes every single S.T.A.R.S. member from Alpha and Bravo team, the rest is under the cut. The lesser known members don’t have a lot of information though and some of them are a bit short because I didn’t know what else to write.

ALPHA TEAM

Albert Wesker:

Not going to put much on these two and their dynamic since I can’t shut the fuck up about them but I’ll drop a few S.T.A.R.S. era tidbits.

Married, however nobody on the force knows except for Irons, Barry and Jordan’s twin, Jaiden. Irons is their employer so he’s obligated to know, and he’s not stupid he could see it. However with Barry, Jordan accidentally let it slip one time and had to make that man swear to secrecy. He regularly teases the two about it.

Guy does NOT play favourites at all which pisses Jordan off. He’s actually way harder on her than the rest of S.T.A.R.S. and expects the best from her, god forbid she hands in a report past the deadline because he’s going to be very pissed. Very firm believer in keeping work and personal life seperate.

When he’s stressed he likes to call her into his office, blinds shut and sunglasses taken off as he holds her. Face buried in the crook of her neck to try to ease the aching migraine that seeningly never goes away. Probably because you got 2 jobs bro.

Speaking of his office they fuck in there all the time sorry

Wesker initially never intended to harm Jordan during the mansion incident and originally was going to try to keep her away from his plans until they were carried out, taking her with him. This obviously failed and Jordan caught onto his true nature because of that one Umbrella researchers photo, confronting him in his lab. Chris was supposed to see those, to confront him, not her. It was foolish of him to bring her. To improvise, he shot her instead and was planning to bring her body with him, infecting her with Progenitor to ensure her safety + turn her into a superhuman like him. Unfortunately the surviving S.T.A.R.S. crew brought her with them so he couldn’t even do that. (Sorry if this bit is wonky, I’m still working on their Re1 lore)

Friendship scale is womp womp an 8/10. Wesker lies far too much to her and manipulates Jordan regularly, scale is nowhere near a 10/10 because of it. Don't get me wrong they have good chemistry and love eachother but y'neow, it's Wesker. No relationship with him is exempt from being toxic.

Chris Redfield:

They’re pretty close I think, she appreciates Chris’ rebellious spirit and honestly just sees a lot of her younger self in him. Chris thinks she’s cool, like an older sister or “girl next door” type and has no clue why a prude like Wesker is so close with her. Little does he know ..

He definitely pisses her off a ton though LMAO he’s so stupid.

I think sometimes it gets a little awkward because she’s like .. 11 years older than him. So some of the dumb shit he says goes over her head and some of the dumb shit she says makes him cringe a little. They get along nonetheless.

“You like Billie Holiday?”

“.. Oh, yeah, yeah sure I love him!”

“… Dude..”

Wesker ABSOLUTELY despises their relationship and does not like how close Chris is to her. He barely voices it, however a common thing he does is bring up negative things about Chris in hopes to deter her from interacting with him. Yeah, he’s controlling. Jordan does get weirded out if, say for example, he brings up a misogynistic remark that Chris said, but she gets over it after a day.

A lot of common interests, they both love Queen! I like to think that if either of them need a smoke they go to eachother since they’re both avid smokers. Smoked weed on the job one time and Wesker had to hose them both down because the office reeked of Alaskan Thunder Fuck.

I think after the Arklay Incident Chris was suspicious of Jordan because of her affiliation with Wesker however this skepticism dies down after he realizes she was also a victim of Wesker’s plans. (cough.. cough. shot.) Alongside this, Jordan vehemently denied knowing anything regarding Wesker’s double life and shared Chris’ intense feelings of resentment and hatred towards the man after Arklay. Chris is sympathetic of Jordan, she felt used and disgusted with herself considering how long she’d been with him, how much of it all was a lie? she fell in love with a facade, a fake constructed persona, hell, did he even love her? spends a lot of his time comforting her and keeping her company because of it.

This sympathy doesn’t last for long though, after Re4 and especially post-Re5 this guy is so sick of her ass for going back to Wesker time after time, he understands Jordan loves him to the point of it being unconditional, which is why she always runs back to him but come onnnn. Girl if you don’t get your ass back here I will smack the shit out of you. Their relationship is definitely strained at this point, tons of resentment between the two. I cover Chris’ feelings about this in this ask.

You guys got a friend where they have a toxic relationship and always go to you for advice but never listen? you tell them the exact same thing every time but don’t go through with it anyway? Yeah that’s Jordan to Chris. She’s the problem here.

"I miss him"

"Shut the fuck up"

They love eachother though.

Jordan thinks Re8 Chris is cute but you will never get this out of her ever especially since she feels guilty about Wesker’s death still. He is rolling over in that volcano everytime that thought crosses her mind. She will never act on this though, widowed Jordan is real.

Friendship scale sat at a 9/10 during Re1. Anything beyond Re4 is extremely strained and sits at a 6/10. Too much resentment.

Jill Valentine:

Uhmmm definitely not as close as Barry and Chris however they are friends, yeah. Her, Jordan and Rebecca stick together at RPD since they’re all women, they try to look out for eachother and talk to one another often. Jordan is definitely close to Jill than she is Rebecca though.

Jordan sees Jill as a bad ass little sister that needs to get her ass whooped sometimes, however Jill doesn’t make Jordan mad to the point of crashing out unlike someone. (Chris) It’s kind of just a mild annoyance like she’ll sigh really heavy if Jill does something stupid.

They definitely gossip a ton though, Jill pulls Jordan aside and rants about whatever is on her mind at the moment, whether it be a guy or something Chris did earlier that day. Literally world’s biggest haters god forbid you wear a terrible outfit around them they are pointing and laughing at you to the point of snorting and wheezing. Brad is a common victim.

She is definitely super sus of Jordan and Wesker and thinks they’re friends with benefits, interrogates Jordan on it regularly and asks her why she’s so close with the Captain. This is a mild accusation though I think Jordan gets flack regularly at the office because of her affiliation with Wesker, a common one is that she “slept to the top hence her position at S.T.A.R.S”

Uhhhmm besides that though I think their friendship is mainly confined to RPD, I don’t think they go out a ton besides the S.T.A.R.S. troupes occasional bar runs. I think either her or Annette would be Jordan’s girl best friends but i’m not sure !

Their friendship is pretty good! I'd say it's around a 7/10

Barry Burton:

These two have the cops from Superbad dynamic. Barry is the Seth Rogan cop and Jordan is the Bill Hader cop. You can't tell me Barry doesn't have the Seth Rogan laugh because he does I mean just look at him. (Jackie and Jordan have this exact same dynamic too)

Cue these two doing donuts in an empty parking lot in their cruiser.

God forbid you catch either of them hungry I think both of them could clear a buffet in like 30 mins tops and they would still be starving. Barry brought her a whole rack of ribs one time while he was barbecuing and it moved her to tears. These two are fat as hell sorry.

Speaking of food I think Barry invites her and their family over when he’s throwing anything, Wesker would rather not but Jordan convinces him every single time. Guy just wants to go home but is forced to be social for hours, I think Barry and the rest of the neighborhood dads kidnap him though and keep Wesker with them, he has no idea what to talk about until cars are brought up and he uses the opportunity to brag about the Porsche he splurged on.

Hands down Jordan’s best friend from S.T.A.R.S. (if we aren’t including Jaiden, Wesker or Silna’s OC, Jackie)

Due to their closeless I think their children are close too. Mainly Junior and Moira, both rebellious little shits who resent their fathers, perfect combo.

Friendship scale sits at a 9/10. Practically family.

Joseph Frost:

Not as close as Jaiden is to him but yeah they’re cool I think.

Honestly I think the Forest, Chris and Joseph trio are all cool with Jordan and Jaiden since all of them are mischievous shitheads who like to cause trouble and have fun while on the job. Jordan doesn’t really join them as often as Jaiden does though. Irons HATES all of them with a passion

“Are you wearing a durag?”

“???? No???”

I think if they got into an argument it’d be the worst thing ever to deal with, both Joseph and Jordan are crashouts due to their temper so they’d 100% be at eachothers throats trying to kill each other. Joseph throws a paper airplane at Jordan’s head, Jordan retaliates by picking up one of the tables in the breakroom and hurling it at the poor guy’s head. Fortunately, Jordan has Wesker to ground her so this doesn’t happen a lot.

Also another reason as to why they never really fought is because they both have that very chipper, humorous and optimistic attitude.

I remember seeing somewhere that his nickname was “Frosty”, I like to think it’s because both Jordan and Joseph’s nicknames were “Joe” within the team so to avoid confusion, Joseph was coined the nickname “Frosty” and Jordan was “Jords”.

6/10 friendship, they're cool with eachother but she flocks more towards the other S.T.A.R.S. members.

Brad Vickers:

Mannnn he is the Family Guy Meg of the friendgroup god bless his soul Jordan thinks it’s funny to make fun of him LMAO

I think she’s like.. okay with him but I don’t think they’re friends, more of acquaintances if anything. Some of the shit he says pisses her off and honestly I don't think he's too fond of her either, she's mean.

I think she’s wayyy more nicer to him than Jaiden is though this guy is a fucking bully. Brad catches strays in every single argument.

Jaiden: “Bro I’m literally prime Michael Jordan like 91 MJ.”

Jordan: “Nah you’re more like Celtics Shaq”

Jaiden: “Shut up, not even, but you know who is? Brad.”

Brad: “Oh…”

Poor guy gets peer pressured to do shit. Like hey Brad!! go lick that pile of white dog shit. Or like hey Brad !! eat this handful of 300 mg edibles that’ll leave you seeing demons. This guy is always like what.. why me ??? until money is mentioned and he jumps on the opportunity. Easy 60 dollars.

The making fun of Brad jokes have to be funny though otherwise Jordan is just going to stare at you

Like there’s a point.

She respects the fact that he works such a profession with an attitude like his, the fact that he can overcome his cowardice in order to pull a job off. Not a lot of people can do that.

Friendship sits at like a 5/10, poor guy just wants to live in peace.

BRAVO TEAM

Enrico Marini:

Another guy who’s super sus of Wesker and Jordan’s relationship. Like his feelings towards Chris and Barry, I think he was scared that she’d take his position as second in command as well. One of the few guys that conspired that Jordan “slept her way into S.T.A.R.S.”

Besides that though I think they’re on good terms. They’re acquaintances at most I feel, really the only thing that keeps them together is the fact that they’re both close friends with Barry and are part of the same team.

Okay so I think this guy is half Hispanic (Maybe Ecuador) and half Italian, hence the Marini last name. Just wanted to throw that out there sorry he is not white he has a little bit of spice.

I think they spar often when Wesker isn’t in the office, gee I wonder where he went.

Again, this is another individual where Jaiden would be closer to them rather than Jordan, they mainly just coexist. I like to think Jaiden is Enrico's right hand man and helps keep Enrico's attitude optimistic in such a profession, nobody has a clue as to how Enrico is so patient with this guy.

Friendship scale sits at a 3, their friendship is strictly professional however they're on good terms, he just gets uhh, envious.

Rebecca Chambers:

Oh my sweet baby Rebecca I love you

Definitely calls her “Bex” or “Becca” as nicknames.

They're both basketball lovers so they definitely play every so often, I like to think when they take their 15, these two, Jaiden, and a few other S.T.A.R.S. members join them for a few games of ball. Rebecca is capable of some nasty crossovers, absolute demon on the court.

Jaiden accidentally posterized her so bad to where she fell face first once and the entire team was fuming at him LMAO sorry he will not pass up on the opportunity to flex. Other than that he's like an uncle to her.

Similar to Jaiden, Jordan assumes a motherly role towards Rebecca and feels inclined to look after her, especially since she's so young and naive, she knows people like to take advantage of girls like that, the world is corrupt and she'd rather not have Rebeca be affected by it. Jordan knows how it feels to be creeped on and it's disgusting, if Rebecca was ever a victim to that Jordan wouldn't be able to forgive herself.

Before Alpha Team was dispatched to investigate the Spencer Mansion, I think Jordan was terrified that something would happen to her specifically (Besides worrying about Jaiden), Jaiden and the rest of Bravo are more than capable of protecting themselves, however Rebecca is a medic with not a lot of combat experience, hence her concern.

Friendship scale is at a 6/10! I'd say they're friends yes but not that close.

Richard Aiken:

Again, another guy she's acquintances with at most.

She thinks he's really sweet though, pretty nice guy. Very appreciative of how protective he is over Rebecca as well, we all love Becca here.

Felt really bad for his girlfriend, Bridgette, after his death. Jordan thought their relationship was really sweet and super cute, seeing another woman so heartbroken over their lovers death made her feel worse.

Friendship scale sits at a 3/10, she doesn't really know him but they do have mutual respect.

Edward Dewey:

Okay there's not a lot known about this guy in general so this'll be short.

Jordan calls him "Speddie Eddie" she thinks it's funny LMAO

Since dance is a hobby they both share I think they like to indulge in it their spare-time, I can see this big guy b-boying, yeah. It's not a thing that's done often though.

She thinks he's very sweet! nicest member on S.T.A.R.S. by far, I think he was the first person on Bravo team she befriended because of it.

Friendship is 5/10. Sweet guy, but he's just an acquaintance.

Forest Speyer:

This fucking guy

Out of all her homeboys he pisses her off the most by far but I think besides Chris and Barry, Forest's one of her favourites. I like to think he's the worst out of the Chris, Joseph and Forest trio I mean just look at him.

This guy is sooo fucking cocky oh my god, they hangout at the shooting range pretty often because that's literally the only thing Forest is willing to do because he's so good at it. Rubs it in Jordan's face everytime, pretty sizeable ratio going 34-20.

She has to call Chris over to humble him every single time

Him and Jaiden's combined ego is horrible they are both extremely insufferable.

I have a feeling this guy is extremely funny though, like snorting and wheezing levels, humour is a characteristic that Jordan loves so I think that's what draws these two together. Common interests in general like tattoos, I think they both like Ed Hardy.

Friendship scale is around uhmm probably like a 7-8/10. They're pretty friendly with one another and she thinks his cocky attitude is a bit charming, albeit annoying.

Kenneth J. Sullivan:

Ehhh

Not that close but this guy is cool

He seems really nonchalant I think she'd go to him for advice and wisdom considering he's the oldest S.T.A.R.S. member

Ball-ups with him are insane he will drop the deepest statement/speech ever and then act like everything is normal.

Okay considering Jordan's a Filipino and one of our martial arts is knife fighting (One of his strengths) I think they'd spar together often so she could hone her skill since she's kinda meh at it. Helps her with posture and getting accustomed to the ice-pick grip.

Kind of hard on her, he's a perfectionist.

Friendship scale is like uhmm, a 4/10. They're cool but they wouldn't go out of their way to seek eachother out

[bring-forth-his-sac]

The Christmas Party - Finale!

summary: the Christmas Party is finally here! … and you and Negan are not on good terms

tags: Modern AU, Teacher AU, Gossip, Swearing, Pet Names, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Flirting, Kissing

word count: 7.1k

A/N: this is the final chapter! thank you to everyone who's read this and left comments!! For some reason, I always hesitated doing multi-chapter fics because I didn't think my writing was good enough to keep people captivated for more than one chapter but this has given me a serious confidence boost! and that's thank to all of you!

Merry Christmas and I hope you enjoy!!!

Negan doesn’t know if you can be pussy whipped when you’re not getting any pussy, but damn that’s exactly how he feels with you.

He’s always been a fan of temporary pleasures, quick fixes for the emptiness that gnawed at him. He wasn’t interested in long term or relationship—at least, not in the way most people understood it. Love was something people with hope clung to. 

And Negan? He had lost hope a long time ago.

He’s had women, plenty of them, but none of them have ever meant more to him than a night of fleeting connection. Negan never made a fool of himself ice skating for some pussy, nor has he ever wined and dined them.

And he would say he still hasn’t, mainly because that would mean referring to you as just another piece of pussy. And no matter how hypocritical it may be, he doesn’t like that.

He doesn’t know how you do it, how you can penetrate the walls he’s spent years putting up. You’ve never been impressed by his bravado or his flirting. 

No, instead you’re the sweet type. You like the little moments, the playfulness, the cheeky texts neither of you should be sending during work hours.

Negan’s known it for a while now. He doesn’t want you like the others. He doesn’t want a night away or a quick fix. He wants the ice skating, the banter throughout the work day, the hot chocolates and dinner dates. 

Fuck, all you’ve given him is a kiss and Negan’s smitten. 

Waking up the morning after your sweet kiss, you’re the first thing that pops into Negan’s head. More specifically, it’s you in his truck, his leather jacket over your shoulders and eyes crinkling at the corners as you laugh at some dumbass joke he made. 

He woke up alone, having gone home the night before and spent an hour on the phone to Mark Smith. 

Negan couldn’t believe he actually sat on his couch and willingly listened to his colleague talk about some upcoming market by where he’s staying in Jamaica. Negan even asked Mark how his wife and kids were doing– voluntarily!!

He didn’t recognize himself anymore. The pain, while still there, isn’t as strong. Negan can’t find the strength to harness that resentment he had at the world and himself. 

Because how could he hate himself when he’s had your sweet lips on his not even 24 hours earlier?

But his Thursday goes downhill from the get go. Negan has a pep in his step as he leaves his house, quickly locking the door behind him before heading for his truck. A part of him hopes the smell of your perfume will still be lingering in there.

Aaaand that’s the start of a very bad day. Negan never gets to his truck, instead stopping a few feet away when he sees someone else parked behind him. 

His lips twist downward in a slight sneer. It’s the kind of look that says, “I don’t like you, and I’m not hiding it” without needing to say it aloud.

Sherry has her car parked directly behind Negan, purposefully blocking him in. She stands outside, her arms crossed as she tries to keep warm. 

“Hi…” she says plainly, trying to ease into this. 

When he speaks, it’s deliberate. His voice is dry, almost bored, but the weight of his words hangs heavy. "This is private property, ya can’t park there" Negan’s tone is laced with the kind of casual authority he’s so used to. 

It’s not a request. It’s not even a command. It’s a fact, something he’s not even sure needs to be said, but he does anyway because she’s standing there like this is some kind of game. 

Starting for his truck again, he only stops when she says his name.

Sherry huffs, rolling her eyes. Of course he won’t make this easy. “Negan,” her tone is firmer now “I want to cash in that I-owe-you. Now”.

His hand rests on the truck door but he doesn’t make a move to open it yet. Instead, he turns his body slightly, pivoting so he’s facing her fully now. Negan’s posture tightens, shoulders squared. 

“And you think that means you show up to my home at…” he makes a point of bringing his wrist up to read his watch “seven forty five in the damn morning?”.

“I said whenever and wherever,” she shrugs “and I remembered where you lived, so…”. 

Now it’s Negan who rolls his eyes. Because, yes, out of everything, he needs a reminder that he brought her home once upon a time ago. 

Seeing his little cooperation is shrinking, Sherry cuts to the chase “You have a motorbike, right?”.

“Used to” he corrects her vaguely. Medical bills are a hell of a hit to the balls… and bank account.

“Ok, good,” opening the passenger door to her car, Sherry begins to walk back over to the driver's side “well, get in”.

Negan doesn’t move. “This is kidnapping” he states.

Sherry tries not to lose her patience, nibbling on her bottom lip so she doesn’t let out a string of curses. “No, it’s the favor you owe me,” she corrects “and it’s for Christmas, so c’mon”.

Despite every fiber in his being telling him not to, Negan takes a step closer. “Unless you’re gonna drop me off at the school, we’re gonna be late” be points out.

With the wave of her hand, Sherry dismisses him and gets in. “It’ll be fast” is all she says to assure him.

Glancing back to his truck one last time, Negan sighs before reluctantly getting into Sherry’s car.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

By the time Negan gets to work, he’s pissed off, late and hungry. You’d think as the head cook of the cafeteria, Sherry would’ve had some snacks hidden away in her car but nope, Negan had to starve.

Negan tries to stay positive. He reminds himself that once he knocked out a few more classes, he would have time to do something he’d been looking forward to—setting up the Christmas tree with you. 

But as the day drags on and the hours tick by, his phone remains suspiciously quiet. He sent you a few texts, nothing crazy, just simple check-ins asking when you’d be free to hang out later. 

A casual message, nothing too pushy. But now, after getting through some classes, it has been hours and there still isn’t a reply.

At first, he figures you’d just busy, maybe caught up in teaching or managing your unruly students. He knows you have a lot on your plate and he didn’t want to be that guy who expecta instant responses. 

It’s fine. He’s patient. You’d get back to him when you have the chance.

But as lunch rolls around and there’s still nothing, he can’t shake the nagging feeling that something isn’t right. It’s subtle at first, just a flicker of unease, but it grows with every passing minute. 

He finds himself glancing at his phone more often, tapping his fingers against the desk, trying to focus on his work but getting distracted.

Something is off.

Negan gives the little pumpkin statue on his desk a quick rub, as if the small gesture might bring him some kind of luck. 

He doesn’t know why he’s so worked up. It’s not like he’s a clingy guy. But the silence between you two today? It’s not like you and it’s starting to eat at him.

First stop is the teacher’s lounge. Empty. He checks your classroom next— locked. No sign of you. Then, he heads to the sports hall, hoping you might be there, finishing something up. No luck.

Hell, he even hangs around the women’s toilets for a minute. It’s stupid, he knows, but he figures if you’re dealing with that time of the month, you might need a minute. 

He leans against the wall, trying not to look too out of place, but when Sasha passes by with a raised brow, he realizes how ridiculous he looks.

“Shit,” he mutters, pushing away from the wall.

He’s not the clingy type. He knows that. But by the time lunch comes to an end, he’s sent you a decent amount of texts. 

Negan: you ready for the tree?

Negan: it’s in the hall

Negan: u ok?

Negan: is this hide and seek? Where are you?

Negan: hellllllllooooooooooo? My messages are going through so I know you don’t have me blocked

More classes pass and Negan’s patience wears thinner with every passing minute. He yells at a group of rowdy students, his voice echoing through the sports hall as he orders them to watch out for the cheerfully decorated tables as they do their jumping jacks. 

He checks his watch, the second hand ticking a little too loudly for his liking. It’s almost the end of the school day and Negan can feel the weight of his frustration pressing down on him. 

He hasn’t heard a damn thing from you, not a single text, not even a “Hey, I’m busy.” Nothing.

And the silence? It’s driving him nuts.

By the time he’s checking the teacher’s lounge again, he’s about ready to give up… but then it happens. Just as he’s walking by Ms. Peletier’s classroom, the door clicks open.

You step out.

It’s like a moment of clarity hits him and for a second, all his frustration melts away. There you are— looking like you’re trying to escape something. 

You’re not your usual self. There’s something different about you today, something… timid. You’re not holding eye contact, your shoulders are a little hunched like you’re trying to make yourself smaller.

“Holy fucking shit,” Negan says, his voice full of relief “I was about to send out a search party, where the fuck have you been, doll?”

He expects a smile, some kind of warmth in your eyes. But instead, you tense. For a heartbeat, your body locks up, like you didn’t expect to see him. 

He watches, confused, as you quickly gather yourself. For a second, he thinks you might be walking toward him, like you’re about to talk, to explain yourself.

But then, just before he can take a step forward, you say it.

“Fuck off”.

Negan’s a man that likes to curse. He likes to throw in a few fucks, pricks, shit balls, whatever he feels in the moment. 

But this is different. 

The curse slices through the air, harsh and bitter. The venom in each syllable sticks in his chest like a jagged piece of glass. 

Negan’s stomach drops. He watches you walk past him, not even sparing him a glance and strut down the corridor without breaking stride.

For a moment, he’s frozen. The anger, the confusion— it all hits him at once. He isn’t the kind of man who gets easily thrown off, but right now? Damn right he feels uneasy.

“Woah, sweetheart, what’s that for?” Negan calls after you, confusion and hurt twisting his words. 

He takes a step forward, instinctively wanting to follow you but before he can move another inch, a voice calls his name.

“Negan.”

He turns, annoyed, ready to snap at whoever’s interrupting him but when he sees Carol standing in the doorway of her classroom, he stops dead.

“Let her go,” she says, her tone calm, but firm.

His brow furrows. What the hell is this?

“What?” He takes a few strides toward her, his voice rising. 

Carol raises a hand, palm out, silencing him before he can continue. “Let her go,” she repeats, her expression unreadable “She’s not interested”.

Negan’s chest tightens. Her words hit him like a punch to the gut but it’s the way she says them so matter-of-fact that makes him freeze in place. He opens his mouth, but the words don’t come. 

He looks at her, searching her face for some hint, some sign that this is a misunderstanding. But Carol doesn’t flinch. Instead, she just watches him, her eyes steady. 

“She’s not interested,” she repeats, softer this time, but still unyielding.

The truth stings. It settles over him like a weight, heavy and suffocating. The realization that everything he thought he knew about what was happening between you two—what he thought was real—might have only been a quick flash in the pan.

Negan stands there for a moment. The hallway around him feels too quiet, too empty. His chest tightens again and he can’t tell if it’s from anger or hurt or pure disbelief.

He looks back down the hall,  where you disappeared, then back at Carol. With a sharp exhale, Negan turns away, heading in the opposite direction without saying another word. 

What else is there to say?

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Friday feels like damnation, and not just because of the party. You purposely come in earlier than usual, not wanting to run into Negan as you set up the last remaining decorations for the gym. Even Joey isn’t in yet.

You can still feel the rush of anger, the way it surged through you when you saw them together, Negan and Sherry. You wouldn’t say you’re a jealous person but to see them arriving together, after everything?!

After Sherry warned you away from him, the dates that weren’t dates you went on with Negan… the kiss. You wonder if you didn’t move fast enough for him and if he went straight to Sherry’s after dropping you home that night. 

You’re pissed—so fucking pissed—but more than that, you’re hurt. The way he acted around you was like you were something special. It was as if maybe, there was something more between you two, more than banter and attraction. 

But now? Now it feels like a fucking joke. He’s out there, probably flirting with whoever is next on his hit list while you’re here, stewing in your own mess of feelings and sticking wreaths on to tables.

You want to punch something just to feel like you’re doing something to get rid of this ache in your chest. 

Your mind races—did they sleep together? Was it just another one-night thing for him? Did it mean nothing? 

The thought of it gnaws at you, each question digging deeper. The betrayal, the feeling of being tossed aside, his voice when he called after you yesterday, the knowing look on Carol’s face when you told her what you had seen… It's too much. 

You wish you could cry but you’re too damn mad. So you keep working, head down, fighting the sting of tears that are just waiting to break through. 

The good news is the sports hall is finally done, besides the Christmas tree that was never put up. 

The high, vaulted ceilings are draped with thick strands of sparkling tinsel in gold and silver, catching the light from the overhead fluorescent bulbs and making the whole room shimmer.

Long rows of tables are now covered in bright red and green cloths, each one bordered with tinsel and a wreath hanging off the front. Paper snowflakes some of the students made dangle from the walls, swirling like an indoor blizzard.

Around the room, there are signs that read things like “Merry Christmas!” and “Season’s Greetings!” in big, bold letters and decorated with holly.

Even the basketball hoops are dressed up, with thick, red ribbons tied in bows around the rims, and a few oversized ornaments dangling from the netting. 

Everywhere you look, there’s something to bring a smile to your face— and yet that’s the one thing you can’t do. 

“Well, hello there,” you don’t tense when you hear the masculine voice. 

It doesn’t have that deep drawl Negan’s does. Nor does it make you want to shiver and purr at the same time.

“Hi, Joey” You don’t even glance at him as you say it, your eyes fixed on the twinkling lights that are tangled up in tinsel, casting a soft glow across the sports hall. 

“The place looks great!” he says, his voice a little too bright as he walks deeper into the room, clearly trying to make conversation.

“Uh-huh,” you reply, your voice flat and distracted “It’s basically done now. Just have to run home after school to grab the drinks, and it’ll be ready”.

You don’t want to engage much more than that. The last thing you need right now is small talk or having to deal with anyone else. 

“And the food?” Joey presses, his tone a little too chipper.

You force a tight-lipped smile, your jaw set as you turn toward him briefly. “Can you let Negan know that’s his shit to sort?” you ask, trying to keep your voice neutral, though it comes out cold.

“Uh—sure! Yeah!” Joey nods quickly, probably sensing the shift in your mood but not wanting to push it. 

Without waiting for another word, you head toward the door, not bothering to look back. The last thing you want is to stick around the hall in case Negan shows up unexpectedly. 

You can feel the tension already creeping up your spine at the mere thought of seeing him, of dealing with whatever’s going on between you two.

So, you leave, eager to put some distance between yourself and the mess you’re caught up in.

The school day drags, yet somehow, it feels like it’s slipping away too fast. The hours blur together— teaching feels more like a flurry of words and half-attention from your students as they count down the minutes to the end of the day.

You try to keep them engaged but it’s obvious they’re all just as eager for the holidays as you are. 

The morning feels slow, like every minute stretches just a little too long. You try to get through your classes but every time the clock ticks, your mind drifts back to the party— back to everything that’s been weighing on you. 

By the time you hit the afternoon, you’re caught in this weird mix of excitement and dread. Each class passes, each bell that rings to signal the end of a period feels like a countdown to something you’d rather not face.

The students, for their part, are bouncing off the walls. They’re eager to get out, to be free from school and homework and whatever else hangs over them. 

You watch them, their chatter almost deafening and you can’t help but feel a sense of urgency in the air. It’s almost like the whole school is vibrating with the countdown and the seconds feel like they’re slipping through your fingers.

The lessons go by in a haze—you’re teaching, but you’re not fully there. You’re running through the motions, reciting your notes and trying to keep your class on track but you know that the closer you get to the end of the day, the closer you get to the party, to seeing Negan again, to dealing with whatever awkwardness looms between you two.

Finally, the last bell rings, the sound cutting through your thoughts like a knife. You breathe out a little too heavily, a mix of relief and frustration swirling inside you. 

It’s over.

The school day’s done. 

The holiday break is here and the party is just around the corner. You grab your things quickly, eager to get out of the classroom but the thought of facing the party, of facing him, slows your steps.

You want a moment of quiet before everything kicks off but you can only have such a luxury when you get home to quickly dress into something a little nicer and bring all the alcohol back here to the sports hall. 

The noise in the hallways is deafening, students filing out, chatting excitedly about the break. Your thoughts, though, are already on the evening ahead. 

You rush home, the quiet of your place a welcome relief after the chaos of the day. You head straight to your room, pulling off your teaching clothes and slipping into something nicer for the party—nothing too fancy, but enough to feel put-together. 

A soft sweater and dark jeans, something comfortable but still festive. You grab the bottles you’ve set aside for the party, having to make multiple trips to your car before they're all loaded.

A quick glance in the mirror tells you that you’re ready but the knot in your stomach tells you the opposite. You grab your keys and head out the door, locking it behind you before making your way back to the school. 

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

It’s almost half six when the first few people trickle in and you’re glad to see their faces. 

For the past forty minutes, it’s just been you, Joey and Negan in the hall, stealing plates and cups from the home ec room and putting all the drink on display. And in that forty… long… minutes, you and Negan exchanged a total of seven words.

“Where’s the tequila?” he basically huffed at you.

“Still in my car” you retorted, giving him the same energy.

You got a grunt in response and he yelled at Joey to go out and grab it as Negan left to get more plates.

But now the sports hall is buzzing with that awkward in-between energy—everyone’s showing up but the party hasn’t fully kicked off yet. There’s a nice hum of conversation, teachers hesitantly reaching for liquor and some commenting on the decorations.

Every time you cross paths with Negan, you veer the other way. It’s like there’s an invisible wall between you two, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. 

You’re doing your best to keep yourself busy— lining up glasses, making sure the food table’s stocked thanks to the newest light in Negan’s life, Sherry (you swear you’re not jealous)—but it’s hard to ignore the tension, the way Negan moves around you, not quite looking at you but not completely avoiding you either.

In one corner of the hall, you see Aaron head towards the large speaker that sits silently waiting.

After a few seconds of fumbling with the speaker, the opening chords of ‘Last Christmas’ filled the room, too loud at first, making everyone glance at each other nervously, unsure if they were meant to sing along, dance, or just pretend it wasn’t happening.

Some teachers head over to the food. Thankfully, you haven’t run into Sherry yet, nor is that something you wish to do. But to give credit where credit is due, the food smells delicious and it’s not as plain as the food usually served at the cafeteria. 

Fingers quickly grab skewers of chicken satay or tiny puff pastries as the music loops on, providing a kind of strange comfort. 

"I swear," Morgan says as he fills his plate, laughing awkwardly as he nudges a colleague "I only came for the pigs in blankets".

Everyone chuckles the first real laugh of the evening and suddenly the awkwardness seems to melt away, if only a little. Yet it’s enough to kick off the night.

As the evening stretches on, the awkwardness begins to fade into something more familiar, a sort of communal ease that only happens when you’ve spent enough time around people you mostly like, but don’t quite know how to relax with. 

You stand back and watch, nursing your drink. 

A few teachers have found their rhythm, wandering between the buffet table and the cozy clusters of conversation, laughing a little too loudly and talking shop just enough to remind themselves they’re not too far from the classroom.

Jesus walks up to you and a few others, gesturing towards one of the empty corners. “Where’s the tree I gave you guys?” he asks curiously, no annoyance in his tone.

Taking a deep breath, you struggle for an answer “We uh, ran out of time to put it up”. 

Jesus gives a quick laugh and a nod, taking your answer for what it is. “And you still have the extra baubles I donated too?” he clarifies, taking a sip of his drink.

You nod and hesitantly explain “Yeah, the tree and baubles are uh… they’re under the bleachers. We didn’t have the space in the storage room”.

Looking around at the other teachers listening, Jesus smiles “Well then, who’s game for putting up a tree?”. 

Before you have time to process that, there’s a burst of energy. 

Jesus and Morgan help bring out the tree. Tara takes the box of baubles, standing with her hands on her hips as she looks down at the box. 

Aaron, ever the optimist, picked up a string of lights and began untangling them with the patience of a saint.

You stand there with a surprised look plastered on your face. Even the people who aren’t helping, stand by and watch. Michonne snaps a few pictures before typing on her phone, no doubt sending it to her husband or Carl. 

Jesus, who has already taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, grabs the tree stand. 

“The tree’s the easy part,” he tells the crowd “the real challenge is making it look intentional when you know it’s probably just going to be… well, a mess”.

Eugene, who has been quietly inspecting the box of ornaments with Tara, looks up at the group. 

“I must admit, I find the idea of a decorated tree somewhat... quaint. But I’ll go along with the sentiment if it makes the rest of you happy,” Eugene says, picking up a candy cane ornament “Plus, I believe we can all agree—Christmas lights are critical”.

Aaron chuckles “Of course you’d have a whole theory about the importance of lights”.

With Eugene’s help, the tree is quickly set up and anchored in its stand, though it wobbles slightly, as if unsure of its purpose. 

“No, no, no, it’s leaning to the left!” Gregory tries to direct them. As you all listen to Gregory and Sasha bicker whether the tilt gives the tree character, you notice a figure lurk closer to you.

Out the corner of your eye, you see Negan. His every movement seems charged, as if he’s on the edge of saying something but never does. And you? You’re not sure what to say either. 

So instead, you both continue this dance, each of you pretending that the other isn’t right there, just a few feet away, caught in the kind of silence that screams everything without a single word being spoken.

“And where’s the tinsel?” Rosita rummages through the box of ornaments. 

“I think there’s some old tinsel in the storage room,” you call out, wanting an excuse to get away from him “I’ll go get it!”.

Negan lowers his head, watching through his lashes as you hurry off to the storage room. He suppresses a sigh, wondering if it’s really that hard for you to be around him.

Do you seriously prefer the cramped, shitty old storage room compared to him? 

This should have been fun. You two should be celebrating! Fuckin’ finally! You’ve made it and now the others are having the time of their life by willingly doing a team building exercise! 

Right now, you should both be teaming up to haggle Michonne for a raise, not barely looking at one another.

And yet Negan can’t do it. He can’t find the words to say this to you. And so he stays in his spot and listens to the others make the task of decorating a Christmas tree seem impossible.

Ten minutes pass. 

Still nothing. No you. No shitty tinsel. Just a whole lot of avoiding. 

Negan can’t believe this. You’d rather hang out in the storage room? Or quietly slip out early? All that hurt and tip toeing around each other starts to bubble in Negan, slowly reaching it’s boiling point.

With a sharp turn, he makes his way through the crowd and towards the storage room. He figures he’ll check in there first and then check the parking lot to see if your car is still here. 

His hand comes straight out as he opens the door with enough vigor to make it fly open. Not that he’s thinking about the door when he sees you, just standing there.

“Are you really gonna hide on me?” He starts, boots slamming against the messy floor as he leaves the doorway and walks deeper into the room, closer to you.

For a split second, you freeze. But as you see your opportunity for escape closing, you rush forward. 

You don’t pay any attention to his question, trying to get past him as you blurt “Wait! Stop! Don’t let the door—”.

But before either of you can reach it, the door slams shut with a resounding thud, cementing back into its frame. Negan’s anger falters when he realizes what just happened.

He doesn’t know how many times he warned you about the old storage room door being hard to open from the inside, yet here you are— and now him, victim to the heavy door.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me…” His voice drops to a low, venomous growl as he steps back to the door. He tries to yank it open once, twice, thrice! And yet it stays in place.

With the click of his tongue, Negan looks to you “You seriously got yourself locked in here?”.

You don’t appreciate the mocking tone and so you bite back “Yeah and now you have too!”.

With a sigh, Negan leans up against some of the boxes. His anger is gone and now he’s just unsure what to say to you

You step up and try the door again. You yank the handle again, twisting it violently but the door stays still. 

“Dammit!” You mutter under your breath, before you get a new idea and begin banging on the door. 

“Hey! Hello? We’re in here! Help!” you shout, your voice rising with each strike. 

Unfortunately it’s still not enough compared to the loud thumping of bass and jingle bells from the Christmas music blaring in the adjoining room.

Negan watches you with a mixture of bemusement and annoyance. He chuckles lowly, folding his arms across his chest.

“Well, that’s one hell of a performance,” he comments with a grin, the sarcasm dripping off his words. Stopping for a moment, you throw him a glare before continuing again.

“You’re bangin’ on beat with that Christmas nonsense. Hell, they won’t hear you over the jingle bells and whatever crap is playing” he points out, taking no notice of your glare.

You stop, staring at him with an annoyed look “I don’t need your commentary right now, Negan”.

He shrugs, uncaring “Just callin’ it like I see it. Looks like you’re stuck with me. Again”.

Ignoring his comments, you listen to the party outside. Laughter. Chatter too loud that it drowns out your shouts for help. The occasional cheering as they continue to decorate the tree. 

“Sounds like they’re having fun” you grumble.

Negan waits a moment before replying, his tone losing his sarcasm “So should we”.

There’s a tightness when he says that— but not the good kind. You’ve always been one to blurt things out, Negan should know that better than anyone. 

Although hearing you quietly mutter “Yeah, I’m sure you and Sherry should be having the time of your lives”, throws Negan’s head in a tailspin. 

“What? Sherry?” The edge is back in his voice as he asks, making you go quiet again. 

You shrug in response.

He narrows his eyes as you stay silent. When you don’t say a word, Negan shakes his head “Fuck, I thought we were gettin’ somewhere, and now? Now this shit?”.

Negan takes a breath before deciding to start small. “Why’re you bringing up Sherry?” he lets the question hang in the air.

Eyes flickering to the ground, your voice feels tight as you reply “I… I saw you with Sherry, arriving to work with her, and—”. You stop yourself, biting back the words. 

It doesn’t matter that you stopped anyways as Negan interjects with a slightly sarcastic laugh “You thought I’d what? Sleep with her?”.

He steps closer, trying to get you to look at him.

“Doll, she just wanted to cash in that I-owe-you,” he says before deciding you’ll need more of an explanation “she wanted to buy her boyfriend a motorbike for Christmas but she knows fuck all about bikes… I, however, have had my fair share so I went with her to get give her my expert opinion. Nothing more. I just spent the morning looking at shitty second hand bikes”.

You nod, eyes still down as you process his answer. But now it’s Negan’s turn to get some answers.

“You really think I’d kiss you, then go and sleep with someone else right after?” his voice is firm but tinged with hurt “Is that how little you think of me?”.

That makes you look up, eyes wide before they soften with regret “No! I don’t— It’s just, you didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to think. You didn’t tell me anything about her or what you were doing”.

You hesitate, realizing how much you’ve misinterpreted “I should’ve talked to you first. I’m sorry, I just… I didn’t want to make a fool of myself”.

A few hollers can be heard in the sports hall as Negan pauses, letting out a slow exhale.

“You don’t have to apologize for giving a damn. I get it, though, how that would’ve looked,” he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself “I mean, Sherry and I, that was a one time thing that neither of us want a round two of”.

You nibble on your bottom lip, unsure whether you’ll like the answer to your next question but needing to ask nonetheless. “So… what did happen? Back then, between you and Sherry?”.

His posture shifts slight as if he’s physically as well as mentally letting down his guard. 

“Sherry and her man were on a break, she wanted a distraction…” he trails off, letting you fill in the details “and then when they got back together, she had to really prove to the guy that she wasn’t interested in me anymore so she went from thinking I was good enough to fuck, to straight out hating me”.

“Huh… I kinda presumed you just cut contact with a lot of them after the deed is done” you reply, not expecting to hear that Sherry hated Negan anyways, whether or not he ghosted her.

“Oh I do sometimes, other times it just fizzles or it’s decided beforehand that it’s just a one night kinda thing” he explains “We both get something out of it”.

“A two way system” You call it.

Negan tilts his head as he thinks, “‘I wouldn’t exactly call it that. It’s just… mutual benefits.

A faint smirk ghosts his face “A two way system is you arguing with me, me arguing with you, you taking me on a date, me taking you on a date, me flirting with you, you flirting with me”.

You can’t help the smile at that, rolling your eyes teasingly, any annoyance you had for Negan melting away.

He continues, poking his tongue out of his mouth “Me kissing you.. you shoving your tongue down my throat”.

“I did not do it like that!!” You exclaim with a laugh.

He chuckles, his own annoyance gone now too. “You’re right, you’re right,” he concedes before thinking up a better way of saying it “you… oh so subtly slipping that dainty tongue of yours into my mouth all sexy like”.

“I didn’t use tongue!” You declare, throwing your hands up before the playfulness fades into a somber silence.

“I am sorry,” you reiterate ”I guess I should’ve trusted you more. I should’ve asked, instead of assuming.”

He gives you a look you can only describe as tender. 

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly the talking-about-feelings kinda guy and I kinda thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore,” he tells you, his voice a gentle hum “But if you’re asking— I want this. I want you. No more games, no more misunderstandings. Just… us. Alright?”.

A small, relieved smile tugs at the corners of your lips, tension easing. “I think that would be nice” you agree, trying to drown out the loud Christmas music during your intimate moment.

There’s a quiet between you both, no more words needing to be exchanged. Negan begins to move again but instead of heading towards the door, he briefly disappears to the back of the storage room.

“Negan?” You call out.

He strolls over to one of the old boxes and starts to look through it. The musty smell of forgotten storage fills the air as he pulls out a dusty, crinkled piece of tinsel, its once-silver strands now dulled and faded with time.

“If we’re all good now…” he says as he stops and reaches down into the box “y’know what we gotta seal it with, right?”.

His mouth twitches with a hint of amusement and as he steps back toward you, dangling that goddamn piece of old mistletoe in front of you. 

His expression is half-mocking, half-playful, as if he’s trying to make light of getting stuck in here. 

You look at the mistletoe and then back up at him. “Well, it is tradition…” you tilt your head up, expecting to see that cocky expression of his but instead it gives way to something more sincere.

Before you can say anything, he’s lifting the mistletoe above your heads, positioning it just right. 

Not being one to waste time, Negan presses his lips to yours, the kiss soft at first, just a light brush but as if giving into the moment, you deepen it. 

His lips are warm and steady against yours. The taste of him lingers as it becomes more heated. Negan drops the mistletoe, both of you each other instinctively pulling closer.

His lips press more urgently against yours, like he's unable to hold back anymore. His hand slides from your waist to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, pulling you into him with a force that makes you gasp into his mouth.

That gasp seems to push him further, the heat between you intensifying. His tongue sweeps against yours in a coaxing manner. Backing away, you pull him with you until your back is flush against another stack of boxes. 

There's nothing tentative about this anymore; it's a powerful, consuming kiss, raw with hunger and desire.

Negan’s hands slide under your festive sweater, skin on skin. The contact sends a shiver down your spine, heightening every sensation. Your fingers clutch at his shirt, needing more of him, more of this. 

His body presses against you, hips aligning with yours, and the pressure builds as you feel the weight of him against you. His breathing becomes heavier, his chest rising and falling in sync with the erratic make out session.

The words around you fall on deaf ears, neither you or Negan paying attention to the Christmas music or the mumbling of Gregory outside saying “It’s in here, you say? Oh Christ!”.

Suddenly the music is clearer and another light source shines across your face. “Mm?” You question, although it’s hard to get the words out with Negan’s lips still on yours.

Pulling away, you see a look of shock and disgust on Gregory’s face.

He clears his throat, trying and failing to regain some semblance of control. “This… this is—uh—what is happening here?” his words came out in a disjointed jumble, bringing the other’s attention to the storage room.

“They’re together?!” you hear Rosita’s voice.

“You didn’t know about them?” the voice of Michonne reaches your ears “Carl told me they were a couple ages ago!”.

Suddenly you realize you’re like a deer in headlights, just frozen and watching. That is until Negan takes you hand in his and yanks you out of the storage room while the door is still open.

You follow his lead, letting him bring you out to the middle of the sports hall until he turns to face you again. His hands find their home on your back and he begins to sway to the slow Christmas song.

“Are we… dancing right now?” You question, clasping your hands around the back of his neck. 

The others stare for a few moments before carrying on with whatever it is they were doing beforehand. Some drink, some stuff their faces and chat, while others grab a partner and dance too.

Negan doesn’t answer with words, instead giving you a little spin before finding you back in his arms.

“So… you still spending Christmas alone?” Negan says it casually, though there’s a subtle trace of concern in his tone.

You inhale before replying, shifting slightly in his arms “Yeah”.

“You sure about that?” He leans in a little closer, his face now just inches from yours, as though trying to read between the lines. 

There’s a small, almost imperceptible shake of your head, showing you’ve already made peace with the decision as you sigh “I think it’s for the best I don’t change plans now and go spend it with my family”.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I was kinda trying to crash your plans, not suggest you skedaddle out of town” Negan’s grin widens, and he gives you a playful nudge

“What?”.

His smile deepens as he watches your reaction, fully aware of how bold he’s being. “Well, you’re spending Christmas alone, I’m spending Christmas alone,” he explains “we get on like a house on fire, you’re hot, I’m hot”.

“Negan!” you exclaim, a mix of embarrassment and amusement flooding your chest.

“I’ll bring the mistletoe” the offer hangs in the air, and you can feel the moment shifting, building toward something neither of you is fully ready to name, but both are undeniably feeling.

“… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you were there too” you slowly admit “but you have to bring me a present!”. 

Negan chuckles, keeping his hands on the small of your back as he looks up and pretends to think. “Hm… I might be able to do that” he says. 

He tries to act as though he’s debating the condition, as if he hasn’t already bought you things.

A cinnamon candle.

A pumpkin statue to match his own.

A winter coat that will actually keep you warm (that may have some leather accents so you’ll match his own jacket).

Some snacks he’s been picking up whenever he’s out.

And a list he’s made himself of the corniness Christmas movies he could find on the many streaming services that are around.

“Maybe I could do with that mistletoe now,” you tease, showing off your actual flirting skills.

Negan smirks down at you, one of his hands trailing up your back as you both sway to the music.

“Darlin’ I think we are way past mistletoe now,” he quips back before he leans down.

Despite being in the sports hall that made you and Negan go at each other’s throats. Despite being surrounded by your colleagues …

You kiss him.

[fizzie-frog]

Blitzø: core self, trauma and healing (part two)

This is a continuation of my previous post. Thanks to Tumblr limitations, I had to split it into different parts (trust me, I wish I could've made it just one big post).

PART ONE

This might be long...

He tried to waddle through the trauma of existing as someone as self-loathing as himself.

He denied;

“I didn’t do anything, it was an accident!”

He isolated;

He minimized, often with humour;

“Uh-oh, looks like it sucked all the fun outta you!”

He avoided being vulnerable;

“I DID CARE!”

And felt awkward/uncomfortable when he did end up spilling out his emotions;

“Weeeeeeeell, fuck you!”

Suppressed his emotions;

… Cause they’re blinding and suffocating, and it’s easier to avoid them.

He hated himself and didn’t believe there is anything good about him, despite having changed lives for the better;

And he dipped if he got too close (everything literally burnt down when he tried getting closer, didn’t it);

He often didn’t believe others would hold any endearment for him, even taking it as a joke;

“I destroy everything, everyo— I make everyone’s lives worse!”

And that’s it, really. He believes he’s a pest, a virus, something that can only do harm. While his core self still showed itself from time to time, he was blinded with the trauma of all his wrongdoings. All the people he’s hurt and that, in a self-fulfilling prophecy, made him hurt even more.

Everything he couldn’t look straight in the eye. The death of his mother, caused by him. The hurt of his friend, caused by him. The hurt he’s caused around himself. He couldn’t bear see it, knowing it would break him down. That’s why he avoided it. Thinking about what happened, what he did is suffocating. But that also blinded him from seeing his good deeds too. As usual, we’re more likely to see the negative over the positive.

Blitz picked himself up by the bootstraps as they say, but it didn’t help him, not within himself. So what did help?

I think it started in Oops…

He didn’t wanna be vulnerable, but after so much hurt and things left unsaid, it spilled. It all spilled out and made him into a crying mess right in front of Fizz, cause as much as he tried to act unbothered, he did care (as he said in the episode). He was vulnerable, he explained to Fizz exactly what happened instead of holding it in anymore, he apologized to Fizz. They both learnt what happened.

And the kicker? It paid off! Blitz was finally vulnerable to someone, his former best friend, and Fizz forgave him. He got his dear friend back for this. Not only did he win someone he loves back, but also this came as a punch to those unhealthy beliefs, cause he was vulnerable and it didn’t turn out bad.

We have Ghostfuckers.

After being plagued by his memories, Millie came to his aid. She not only reminded him of a time he actually changed her life for the better, but also confirmed that he indeed cares for Blitz.

Then the moment of truth…

Can’t get anymore raw than the moment when his death was imminent. It’s often in times like this that we people’s raw emotions.

In a moment when even Loona was tearing up at the thought of losing Blitz. When all his friends were already mourning him, crying for him as he was about to lose his life.

And in that moment, when he was sure he was gonna die, he could finally say it…

“I love you, guys”

There was nothing to be lost. He was gonna die and the last thing he knew was that his friends were crying for him, but were safe. He could die happy.

Of course though, he didn’t, as we know. Once he was outside the court room, he was pulled in a sobbing hug by his friends and daughter that were relieved he was okay. Even further proof of being loved. Despite the horrible circumstances, it must be so healing to his heart to have that.

True, unfiltered confirmation of being loved. He is loved. The possibility of someone you love dying shakes you. Loona realized it wasn’t worth pretending anymore - life is so short, especially for low class hellborns.

And probably so did Blitz. He was finally in a happy place. His daughter loved him, his friends loved him. Stolas loved him.

He is loved.

So in the Sinsmas episode, we started seeing so much more of who he once was.

He was goofy,

Attentive,

Listening,

Supportive,

Cheerful,

Encouraging,

Patient,

He looked at potential future,

He was selfless,

Protective,

Kind,

Even romantic.

And he was happy…

That’s not to say he’s completely healed. I think you can never truly heal from something like this, especially the magnitude of what Blitz went through in his life, and his issues can resurface.

But at this point in time, he’s finally in a happy place. He was affirmed, comforted and reassured. He’s content, and that’s the most healed he can be.

His core self is finally seeing the light of day. He is more himself than he’s ever been since that day.

So that was it. I’m sorry if I was a bit messy some places; as mentioned, life is kind of a struggle. Sometimes I feel like my brain is deteriorating or something, lmao, but I wanted to put this together cause I feel like Blitz has such a good, painfully relatable (to me anyway) arc and he’s such a complex character.

My love for Fizz remains the biggest, but I couldn’t deny the love I have for Blitz. He’s just such a good character with such good development. Selfish yet selfless, careful yet careless… So many dimensions.

If you made it this far, thank you! <3

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 8

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- Hi lovelies! Plz don’t forget to like & rb. It means the world to me! :)

Remy’s POV

“Look at you. You don’t even respect your fucking self, man.” Billie mumbled, barely making any sense. Her eyes looked angry, bothered, annoyed. It wasn’t her.

“Let’s go home, you’re drunk as fuck. You don’t mean that.”

She swayed to the bass in place, slightly nodding her head to the beat. I didn’t even notice how much time had passed, standing there awkwardly to the side of the dance floor. Finneas came up to us. He had probably seen her yank her arm away and wondered what was going on.

“Let’s head out. She’s had too much.” I pointed towards the exit.

He took one look at her and nodded, calling the car out to the front.

“No! Fuck it, I do mean it. You’re too fucking scared to take a risk, so you keep sitting in your fucking office hoping one day you’ll do more than shred paper.”

That stung. I ignored her as Finneas and Claudia began to walk her outside. I wasn’t much of a help since I was struggling on my feet too.

“When I get back, you’ll be right where I left you. You’re not gonna go anywhere working for a fucking pig like him.”

“Is that what you think, Billie? What else?” I knew it wasn’t a good idea to argue back, but I didn’t care what state of mind she was in. I couldn’t believe she was saying any of this to me.

“Let’s just get in the car, Rem. She’s too fucked up, she doesn’t know what-“ Claudia shook her head.

“No! I’m not! And I’d like to- I want you to know I’m so serious. You let everyone treat you like shit! Your fucking ex, your boss, your parents!” She pointed.

“Shut up, Billie! Stop talking!” I put her seatbelt on her, struggling to put the buckle in the hole the first few times as Finneas drove off.

“Who took care of you when that motherfucker left you for another bitch?! Who lived with you and held you all day and night, and fed you, and made you whole again?” She shouted, scrambling her words, closing her eyes for emphasis.

“You want to throw that in my face now?” I was pissed. How dare she bring that up. There was no need to be that petty. I didn’t understand what brought this on her. She had never said anything so mean before. I knew it was the alcohol talking, but this hurt deep.

“And now! You’re just gonna leave me!” She pointed her finger.

“Leave you? Like you said, I’m not going anywhere! You’re the one leaving me!”

“She doesn’t mean any of this Rem, just ignore her.” Finneas reassured me, trying to deescalate the situation.

“No, say how you really feel, Billie!” I looked at her, squinting.

“You don’t believe in your fucking self! You beg me to believe in you, when you won’t even give yourself a fucking chance!” Her eyes closed as she tried to be louder.

“Oh, is that why you boss me around and tell me what to do with my life? Because you think I could do so much better being your fucking groupie?” I snapped back.

“You might as well be my fucking groupie! Better than being assistant TO the groupie!”

“You wish! So I could clap for you and gas you up every night? Like everyone else does?” I shouted back.

“Well, it’d be nice to have you be there for me once in a while, instead of putting work first like you always do!” Billie crossed her arms.

“You KNOW I can’t just do that!”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. You just wanna stay there and be a martyr so you can have something to complain about!”

“OH! So now I bitch about everything! I thought I kept things to myself and didn’t accept people’s help? Which one is it, Billie?”

“Whatever dude, you wanna be a sexy little office receptionist, and bend over for some bald fuck, and write some bullshit on a magazine, when you know you want to do more with your life.” She waved her hand around, her eyeliner running a little on the corner of her eyes.

“No, that’s your girlfriend Rachel! Weren’t you the one trying to suck her dick so she’d let me hop on a damn column?”

“I was trying to help you, dumbass!”

“I was trying to hang out with my best fucking friend before she travels the world for, like, a year!”

“Right! That’s why you wanted to get fucking wasted tonight! So you wouldn’t even remember our last night together.” Billie got teary eyed, blinking away her anger. “I didn’t even want to drink tonight!”

“No one forced you! You got all weird when that guy talked to me, and you shoved 2 shots consecutively up your ass!”

Claudia looked at Finneas. They shared a look and I wondered what that was about. He turned the corner toward my apartment and turned on his hazard lights.

“No one is concerned with who you wanna make out with, Remy!” She mumbled.

“Except you, because you act like my damn mother anytime anyone even looks at me!” I pointed at her. She stared at my finger, looking nauseous.

“Maybe if you had better judgment I wouldn’t have to fucking-“

“Whatever bro! You don’t get to tell me what to do with my life! And when you get back, you’ll see how fucking wrong you are! And how shitty of a fucking friend-“

“Shitty friend?? Because I want better for you?!” She leaned forward.

“You wouldn’t even know what being wrong feels like! Everyone always tells Billie Eilish yes!” I said, immediately feeling terrible. Immediately feeling like I crossed a line. But she had crossed multiple already.

Her face turned a shade of hurt I hadn’t seen before.

“No, fuck that! Fuck you, Remy!” She yelled.

“Fuck you, too!” I open the door and slam it, walking out before the car was even in park. Finneas fully stopped the car and ran out. He walked me to the door as I keyed in the code.

“I wanna make sure you get inside safely.” He held the door open for me when it unlocked. “God, I’m sorry, that was a lot.”

I held back tears and rubbed my arms, feeling the midnight breeze give me goosebumps before quickly walking in.

“She’s definitely not in the right mindset and I really don’t think she meant to be that-“

“Honest?” I asked, tears starting to stream down my face. “I think she did.” I called the elevator, pressing the button 18 times.

“Remy, she loves you. More than you think. You’re everything to- She just-“

“It doesn’t matter, Finneas. That fucking hurt. Drunk or not.“ I stepped into the elevator as the door slid open.

“Please, Rem. Listen, I know she was pushing it. I’m not gonna make excuses-“ He was visibly frustrated, pushing his hair back as he spoke. “And trust me, she’s going to feel like such a dick tomorrow-“

“I don’t care. I don’t want to hear it anymore from-“

The elevator door began to slide, when he stuck his hand in the way to stop it from closing. “Promise me you’ll see her tomorrow before she leaves for tour.” He looked serious, as if it would change anything. As if seeing her tomorrow would make it hurt any less.

I didn’t say anything. I just leaned back on the elevator wall, crossing my arms.

“Please. Think about it… I’m sorry, Remy. Have a good night.” He nodded, removing his hand and letting the door shut. My heart dropped as the elevator rose to the 5th floor.

In my apartment, I got ready for bed and threw myself into the pillows. My head spun and throbbed as the effects of alcohol slowly left my body. I knew everything would hurt tomorrow morning. I stared at my ceiling, hoping to fall asleep. I thought about Billie’s face when she said those things. When she told me I’d stay exactly where she left me. How can I give up all the hard work I’ve put in. I wonder if she was ever proud of me. I wonder if she knows how much I care about what she thinks of me. I thought about her face when I practically told her she doesn’t know what no means. I thought about her face when she told me “fuck you”. I wonder if tomorrow she’ll be hurting about all this as much as I am right now. We’d never spoken to each other like this before. It felt like she wanted to say more than she actually did…

Eventually my eyelids became heavy, and I drifted into a deep, deep sleep.

******

My eyelids slowly blinked open, staring at my wall. I groaned, stretching and turning on my other side. The light from my window was so uncalled for, causing me to squint and curl up into a ball. My head pounded, reminding me of the events last night.

“Oh shit.” I gasped, grabbing my phone faster than my brain could register. It was 1:02pm and a missed call from Billie displayed on my screen. I put my passcode in, messing up twice before finally being able to call back. The phone rang for a while. I sat up in bed, impatiently. No answer. I had overslept and didn’t have a chance to say good bye before she left on the tour bus. She was probably so angry at me. I remembered how much she hurt me last night, the words all freshly dancing around in my mind. I didn’t know what to make of it, but clearly she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I figured if she did, she’d call back.

I threw my phone at the foot of the bed and pulled the covers over my head, wishing away the awful headache. I closed my eyes and tried my best to fall back asleep so I didn’t have to think. Obviously, that didn’t work out. My brain wanted to walk me through the least blurry bits of our fight instead.

I threw the covers off and got up, going straight for the medicine cabinet and taking some Advil, dry. I rotted into the couch for the rest of the day, watching the tv show I wasn’t allowed to watch without her. I don’t know if I did it out of spite or to feel close to her. I’m sure she’ll be watching it without me anyway.

Each time I checked my phone for any calls or texts, my stomach did this weird flip thing. I waited all day to receive anything from her to no avail.

Around 8pm, I realize I haven’t had a bite to eat. As I put some almond butter toast on a plate, my phone dinged. I pulled it out of my pocket to see Billie had posted on instagram. An update to her fans letting them know she was on the road, and excited to see them in Quebec, Canada.

I made it a point to like the insta story post, so she knows that I know she’s ignoring me. This is bullshit, I thought. How petty, I thought, the irony going straight over my head.

[chanranghaeys]

🎥 chemistry read

in which junhui’s casting director gets a little bit too jealous during a chemistry read

pairing: actor!junhui x afab!casting director!reader word count: 2.1k+ genre: hurt, comfort, nsfw rating: r-18. nsfw, mdni! tags: established relationship, JEALOUSY, fluffy ending, reader is mentioned to be smaller than jun, i claim no accuracy over the movie industry processes nsfw warnings: heavy makeout, petting, voyeurism (if you squint?) a/n: mainly inspired by lana condor and noah centineo’s chemistry read for “to all the boys i’ve loved before” and it still lives rent-free in my head because it made me feel so, so many things. also my first nsfw-rated fic oh my. took me a while to make sense of where the story was going but it seemed all roads led to this. credits to @strxwberry-skiess, @diamonddaze01, @haologram, and c for beta reading because this took a village to get out!! thank you bless your souls 🫶

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Do you believe in the red string of fate?”

“The what?”

“The red string of fate. Have you seriously not heard of it?”

Jun was pulling out all the stops for this one. He had cranked up his charm to the max level evident in the smiles and subtle glances towards her direction. He knew exactly what he was doing.

It was sickening.

You were sitting on the opposite end of the screen in another room. Yes, you chose to go into a separate room today.

“It’s to see the literal on-screen chemistry,” you said. “We can’t have the face-to-face chemistry not translating well on camera.”

Just as well. You’d had enough of them making heart eyes at each other right in front of you anyway.

Today’s schedule was packed with absolutely no time for breaks in between and no time to even sit for a proper meal which you knew you’d only get by the end of the day.

And no time to actually sit down with the actor you were working with—who you were also lucky enough to call your boyfriend.

If you too were an actor, you’d truly believe that Jun was the perfect fit for you. It was something about his carefree presence and easygoing demeanor that turned shy when praises were directed at him no matter how much he deserved it. It was something that made you want to keep rooting for him.

He saw precisely that in you: your unwavering dedication and quiet support, whether in giving him insider tips and tricks to get ahead or letting him run wild with his character at every casting call. It was something he had never seen so strongly in someone during his time as an actor.

“You remind me of my members,” he told you the very first time you had coffee together—as colleagues who were on the verge of becoming something. “They’re my brothers. And I mean that in the best way possible! Not that you’re my brother in the messing around and crazy kind of way,” he quickly added when you raised your eyebrows in question. “I mean in the ‘always being there to stand by your side no matter what’ kind of way.” He sips from his drink nervously. “Don’t ask me to explain please, because I will not stop rambling until I say something even more stupid than I already have.”

You laughed because he’d already rambled more than he usually did. As a casting director, it was your job to match actors to roles that suited them perfectly. But as people, you both could say you did a mighty good job in matching each other’s quirks and freaks.

Professional mode on during work, you two agreed. And you two did very well on that promise.

But bringing her in for the role made it infinitely difficult for you to keep up your end of this deal.

“She’s an old friend of mine! We worked together on one of my very first projects, the small ones I used to tell you about.” He said this when you asked about her. You knew all that already, of course—it was part of your job.

But when the two finally met again in person, you saw it. As a casting director, your professional instincts felt it. You saw it in the way they instantly gravitated to each other, the way their eyes both sparkled, the way their hands naturally connected even after all those years apart.

They were perfect for the role.

And in your head, a small voice continued the thought you didn’t want to touch.

They were perfect for each other.

It was the same voice nagging in your head throughout the duration of the chemistry read. You knew this scene by heart as if you were the one auditioning for the role. You’ve watched how many callbacks and chemistry reads of this scene. And you knew what came next.

After the back-and-forth dialogue was a moment of silence, followed by a lingering gaze, which was sealed with a kiss that escalated to a bed scene. It was a pivotal moment in the film so it had to be perfect.

You’d almost been desensitized to your boyfriend doing such scenes—professional mode on as always. But all that work crumbled the moment you saw their eyes lock onscreen. Slowly, slowly, their faces inched closer together to meet in a kiss.

Your eyes burned. Your fist clenched as you saw his hand fist in her hair. Your jaw tightened when you saw her lips land in the corner of his jaw. And just as he brought her head down on the couch, the director called “Cut!” and you stood up to walk out of the room, not without feeling a stray tear fall down your cheek.

Jun heard the slam of the door and jerked his head toward the sound. That was all it took for him to know what happened.

He wasn't the only one to notice. Jun found the director’s eyes meeting his with a knowing look. “Alright,” the director started. “Well, they don't call it a chemistry read for nothing!” Scattered laughs filled the small room. “Thank you to both of you, that was absolutely amazing.”

The producers took the actress aside for a few words with other managers and staff. Your presence was notably absent.

Before Jun could slip away, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “That was the best read so far,” the director said.

“I know,” and with his eyebrows raised he continued, “I heard the door.”

The director just gave him a lighthearted laugh. “I’m sure we all did. But you know she would agree.”

Jun knew. So while everyone was preoccupied, he glanced at his manager—who already knew what he’d do—and set off to find you. It wasn’t a hard task because he opened the nearest door to the stairwell and found you leaning against the wall.

You met his eyes when you heard the door open, following him and his slight smile until he ended up a short distance beside you with his shoulder against the wall. You were adamant about not wanting him to see you break. You’re a professional, right?

“You know it’s not real,” he starts.

You scoff. “How is it not real when it was right in front of me?”

“Stop that, green isn’t a good color on you.”

“What?” Jarred, you look down at your staple all-black ensemble. “But green’s my favorite color. You told me you liked me in green.”

“Not when it’s green with jealousy.”

It took you two seconds to register what he said. The corner of your mouth twitched involuntarily at the quip. “I am not jealous.”

Jun barely held in a laugh. “Yeah, sure you aren’t.”

“I’m not!”

“Jealous you’re not the one I was kissing?”

“No, I—”

“Jealous you’re not the one I’m holding?” He reaches out and loops his finger through one of your belt loops to pull you closer, closer, until you’re both joined at the hip. He shifts to effectively pin you against the wall with his height. You shiver against his touch when his fingertips graze the base of your neck.

“Now, you stop that,” you breathily let out.

“Stop what?” He asks oh so innocently.

“This.”

“No. Not until I prove to you how real this is.” He grabs ahold of your hand, and places it somewhere you did not expect it to go: right over his clothed crotch.

He was wearing loose slacks, a piece that could easily hide things that need to be hidden. But if there was one thing you did know about Jun is that he gets hard quick and easy and it takes him a while to calm down. With your hand on it, you could feel it was anything but hard.

“You know me. You tell me if that read did anything remotely close to what you do to me.”

You open your mouth to speak, but before you can let out a reply, his lips land on yours. His actions catch you off-guard and you instinctively clutch onto his arms and your last bits of sanity. Just as quick, he breaks away and grabs your hand again to return it to where it came from.

“Keep it here, love. I need you to have the proof in your hands.” He brushes a stray hair from your face, and you see your own desire in his eyes reflected back to you. He leans in, but stops short of your lips, leaving you to chase after his touch. The smirk that followed was telling of his thoughts. He was teasing you. God.

You had no more patience for his fun and games. You could feel the pent-up frustration building. Whether from anger or sexual arousal, the line has been blurred irrevocably. With your free hand, you latch onto his hair and pull him in aggressively into an open-mouthed kiss.

It was at this moment that you both decided to think “fuck it” to all modes of professionalism.

He takes advantage of your open mouth and wastes no time diving deeper. You find yourself reciprocating his kisses, pulling him in closer as if recreating the scene you watched him do but making sure it was imprinted with your mark on him.

“I love you.” You hear it whispered, feel it muttered against your lips. “I love you, and only you,” he continues in between kisses. “I love you.”

And there it is: the proof you could feel quite literally in your hand, at the crux between his legs. If you weren’t too in the heat of the moment, you could almost laugh. He decided to prove his loyalty to you by showing that he did not get a boner during the chemistry read. It was your lips and your hands, and yours only, that could do this to him. It was peak Junhui.

But now, you were only aroused beyond comprehension, apparent in the pit of your core and the slick pooling in your panties. You squeeze him through his slacks and he moans lewdly in your mouth, echoing in the empty stairwell bearing witness to this obscenity.

He starts kissing and licking down your neck as you feel his hands snake under your blouse and your bra to squeeze in return, earning a gasp from your swollen mouth. You fist the hand you had in his hair tighter, fully aware that you are indeed messing it up and you will very much get a word from his stylist about this.

Your ringtone effectively silenced all other sounds you both made before things could go any further. You both stopped to look at each other with expressions that were hard to decipher whether in alarm or in exhilaration.

“Hello?”

You hear your director on the other end. “So have you two kissed and made up yet? Not literally, I hope.”

From the corner of your eye, Jun chuckled. You cleared your throat, but your voice was still a pitch too high when you replied, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Alright, now come on back here. We have dinner prepared for everyone, including the new girl. We still need to talk about her.”

“Got it, boss.”

“Now, okay? We’ve been stalling for you two.”

Ah, shit. “Okay. On the way.” You dropped the call and looked at Jun leaning back against the wall, whose hair he managed to salvage and whose clothes were almost presentable. You couldn’t say the same for your half-open jeans and messed-up lipstick.

Wordlessly, he pulls you in and helps tidy you up—fixing your hair as you put your clothes back together and wipe off the stray lipstick from your face.

“For the record,” he says as he tucks your hair behind your ear, “whatever chemistry you see on the screen is only because I have you in my head to draw inspiration from. There’s a reason why people close their eyes when they kiss. It’s you I see every time.”

You usually love it when Junhui rambles like this. You still do now, but you also recall his “green with jealousy” line and it fills you with embarrassment.

“It’s just…it looked so real. It felt so real. That was the best chemistry read out of all of them.”

“So I was told earlier.”

“It made me feel so many things.” The exasperation was evident in your voice.

He takes your hands this time and holds them tight. “I’ll make you feel even more things, I’m sure. But I will not let you forget that I will make you feel loved the most. Okay?”

You sigh. You love him. “I love you, Jun.”

“I love you, too.” He raises a hand to press a kiss on your knuckles.

“Also remind me to call building security. I must tell them to delete that footage from the stairwell.”

Jun gives you a quiet smile, one full of mischief. “Not without securing a copy first. For me. Please?”

“I thought we were professionals!”

“We could add professional rule-breakers to that title, you know.”

Hmm. You reconsider his request. Yep, you could definitely match his freak. Perfect chemistry.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

post a/n: inbox is open for requests or additions to taglists!

[dodger-chan]

On this, a totally normal day, please enjoy this short scene featuring demon Steve Harrington:

“They’re con artists,” Steve asserted, rolling his eyes. “They’re nothing I need to worry about.”

It wasn’t that Eddie thought Steve was wrong. He’d read a book about their involvement in that possession and murder case in Connecticut five years back. It had certainly read more like fiction to him.

It was just that demons tended towards overconfidence. Or at least Steve did. Maybe that was more of a jock thing than a demon thing.

“You’re bound to the mortal plain by a two-bit ring from a Crackerjack box,” Robin snarked. “Forgive me if I’m a little concerned.”

There was that, too.

“I’ll have you know that ring cost me fifty cents. It’s solid nickel,” Eddie joked. But he kind of agreed with Robin. The ring was a flimsy object, and entirely incongruous with Steve’s preppy look. Even if the couple weren’t practiced demon killers, the ring would be an obvious target.

“So that’s why my finger keeps turning green,” Steve mused. “Look, I can’t let this stand, but one of you can wear the ring until they’re gone, okay?”

-------

Which was how Edde found himself twisting his old ouroboros ring around his finger, sitting in a diner booth across from Robin. Stealthily watching the demon hunters eat their lunch. Waiting for Steve to arrive. The wait wasn’t long, but it was tense.

Steve ignored them when he walked in, only paying attention to the couple seated behind them. Robin leaned forward and stole some of Eddie’s french fries.

“I think we’re in trouble,” she whispered. She was only half joking. They weren’t supposed to be there; Steve didn’t want either of them associated with a demon. But Robin was not about to let Steve face even fake demon hunters completely alone. And - coward or not - neither was Eddie.

He shushed her, keeping an eye on Steve as he sat down at the hunters’ table.

“I read the contract you signed with Susan Mayfield. Book rights to her daughter's story for a flat fee? Seriously? My deals are more fair.” Steve was facing away from them, so Eddie had to imagine the smug expression on his face. The older couple looked confused.

“Your deals?” The man asked, like maybe he hadn’t put it together yet.

“I’m sitting here right in front of you and you still have no idea.” Steve shook his head. “And you call yourself demon hunters. I knew you were just con artists.”

Understanding dawn on the woman first.

“You’re the demon,” she said, fear in her voice. “The one who killed those kids.”

“I am a demon. But no, I haven’t killed any kids in Hawkins,” Steve corrected. “Those three dead kids, the Mayfield girl’s injuries, that really was a human. People can be evil all on their own, you know.”

“Why should we believe you?” the man asked. He didn’t appear as afraid as his wife, but Eddie was an expert on posturing. The guy was about thirty seconds away from shitting his pants.

“Believe, don’t believe. I don’t give a fuck. I’m not here to keep you from writing your little book and ripping off the American public with your absolutely true demon stories.” Eddie would bet good money Steve was rolling his eyes. “I’m here about this.”

Robin nearly turned around to see what Steve was holding even though she knew what it would be. Eddie kicked her ankle and she turned back.

“You see,” Steve went on, “I made a deal with the Mayfield girl’s brother. It means I owe her a certain amount of protection. So this contract you sweet-talked her mom into signing? We’re going to rework the terms. I’m thinking percent off the gross?”

-----------

Notes:

"that possession and murder case" refers to the Arne Johnson murder trial, where the defense tried to argue the killer had been possessed by a demon. The book was titled The Devil in Connecticut and published in 1983. It's also the inspiration for one of the Conjuring films.

Allegedly (and I'm not doing enough research to confirm it because this six hundred word story has enough notes already) the Warrens paid people flat fees for the rights to their stories and then made bank themselves off of books and films about the 'hauntings' and 'possessions.' Frankly, everything I've read about them makes them sound like unscrupulous con artists.

"two-bit ring from a cracker jack box" is a reference to a Firesign Theatre sketch (The Further Adventures of Nick Danger) released in 1969; Robin knows it from her parents.

Two-bit means cheap in general, but also two-bits refers to a quarter, so when Eddie says he paid fifty cents for the ring he's saying it cost twice as much as Robin implied (still pretty cheap)

I doubt Eddie knows for sure what alloy any of his rings are made of, but cheap jewelry often contains nickel, and nickel can turn your skin green.

"percent off the gross" is revenue percentage rather than a percentage of the profit, so Max can't be cheated out of money via creative accounting.

[fanfictionstuff]

Family Christmas (Amaimon x Reader)

Amaimon and Reader as parents of a little girl (5)

The little girl isn't given a name, but she's called Amaimon's Mini-Me, she looks just like him.

It is not stated if Reader is human or demon.

Merry Christmas!

I'll write a new year GN reader one soon.

Amaimon turns his attention from the TV to the child standing on a step stool by the bar. Her golden eyes are focused on the object before her, and when she feels eyes on her, she glances up she has an expression that mirrors his own. “I think you’re rolling it too thin.” He casually comments as he eyes the thin dough. “Your cookies are going to burn.” And taste bad. She stops, and lowers her head to get a better look at the cookies. “Mama! Daddy says my cookies are bad.”

“I didn’t say that.”

You let out a sigh and set aside the gifts you are wrapping. Both you and Amaimon had procrastinated, waiting until the last minute to prepare the gifts from Santa. Amaimon’s mini-me is supposed to be in the kitchen, rolling out dough and cutting sugar cookies, and she typically is pretty good at it. However, your five-year-old has a flair for the dramatic, so you quickly abandon your task and head to the kitchen, making sure to lock the door behind you.

“Daddy, no!”

“What if it’s not good?”

“Mama said we can’t eat raw cookie dough; we could get sick.” 

Amaimon sighs. “We’re demons, we’ll be fine.” He says, holding some of the dough up to the child’s mouth. 

“You have to leave some dough, or Santa won’t have any cookies.” You frown at the two green-haired demons as they eat the cookie dough. You watch as your daughter’s eyes widen with realization, and you continue, “We won’t have enough butter to make more cookie dough if you both eat it all. So, no cookies for Santa.”

“Daddy, stop eating it!”

“You were eating it too.”

Stepping into the kitchen, you pinch Amaimon’s hip. “Go finish my paperwork; I’ll handle this.”

“How much paperwork do you have left?”

“A lot. Have fun.” You push him towards the bedroom to wrap the presents.

By the time Amaimon finishes wrapping everything up, you’re just taking the cookies out of the oven, while Amaimon’s mini-me is glued to the TV, eagerly watching Santa being tracked. “Santa will be here soon! We have to go to bed!”

“Okay, okay. The cookies are done, get the milk, okay?”

I can’t believe everything is going smoothly this year. Amaimon isn’t grumbling about not understanding Santa, you’ve got your daughter ready for bed already in her pajamas, and she’s excited to go to bed.

It can’t be that simple, can it? As soon as the milk and cookies are perfectly arranged by the tree, she wants to say goodnight to Behemoth. Without a moment's hesitation, Amaimon summons him. The first thing he does? Happily tackle your daughter to the ground. But then he catches the scent of something. The milk. The milk that is right beside the tree. Within mere seconds, he’s summoned, greets your daughter happily, and then darts toward the milk. But he moves too quickly. With a powerful crash, he collides not only with the milk and cookies but also takes the tree down with him.

The room falls silent as Amaimon, Behemoth, and your daughter stare wide-eyed at the sight of fallen ornaments, spilled milk, and crushed cookies. Suddenly, tears begin to well up in the little girl's eyes as she looks to you and her father, her expression horrified. "Santa... he won't... he won't come now...?" Your daughter gazes up at Amaimon, distressed, tugging at his pants in desperation. His expression remains stoic, but his golden eyes soften considerably when he meets the gaze of his tearful daughter. He bends down to pick up the crying child. “Why are you crying? We have more milk. I’ll clean up the tree and set out more milk and cookies. If Santa doesn’t come, I’ll kill him," he states. 

"Telling our daughter you'll kill Santa isn't helpful." The demon frowns, shifting uncomfortably with his daughter still nestled in his arms.

"Right," he mutters, amending his statement to a quieter, "I won’t kill Santa. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Santa will come.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I just know.” 

You sigh, listening to their conversation; he can be such an idiot sometimes. Despite his inability to explain how he knows, your daughter quickly accepts his answer as the truth and jumps from his arms to run to the kitchen for more milk and cookies. “Go help her so she doesn’t spill the milk,” you nudge Amaimon towards the kitchen while picking up the tree. Despite how bad it looked after the incident, it’s not nearly as terrible as it seemed. The tree is easily set back up, and only a few ornaments have fallen off. 

Once your daughter sees it’s not as bad as she thought, she’s easily put to bed by Amaimon.

You lie on the sofa when Amaimon walks into the living room again. Without hesitation, he climbs over you and comfortably settles on top of you. “I can’t believe you told her you’d kill Santa.” You roll your eyes, wrapping your arms around the demon’s shoulders. "Sorry.” He shrugs, lifting himself up slightly to meet your gaze. His hand slips under your shirt, gently brushing against your abdomen.

“She told me something interesting before she went to sleep.”  

“Oh really?”  

“She wants a brother or sister.”  

“And what do you think about that?”  

He smirks, his gaze playful as he leans down, brushing his warm lips against yours. “I don’t want to disappoint my little princess.”