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redrobin-detective · 4 years ago

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The late Daniel Fenton

It was shaping up to be a beautiful if chilly December day and Casper High, as always, was bustling. It was 7:49 and class was about to start. The teacher watched the last few kids stumbling in at various levels of wakefulness. He already knew who would be the ones to rush in after the bell but that was alright. Life was too short to stress about being a few minutes late to class, especially in Amity Park of all places.

He looked up to see Madison, one of his shyer students walk in before making a beeline for his desk. She was biting her lip and nervously rubbing her hand down her skirt. “Hey,” she began quietly.

“Good morning. What’s up, Mads?” He asked casually. She looked upset, he could probably put on a video for the class if she needed to talk. They really needed a permanent counselor but the constant ghost attacks ran off most of them so he’d taken up the unofficial mantle. It felt good to help his students like that, make up for past wrongs.

“Are we um, expecting any new students?” She asked, her eyes darting over to the door she’d just come through. “Any transfers, exchange students or anything like that?”

“No,” the teacher frowned. “Amity isn’t the kind of place people transfer into. Why?”

“There’s a kid in the hallway,” she mumbled. “I don’t recognize him, he’s got a backpack and everything but he’s... I don’t know he doesn’t feel right.”

“Oh you’re talking about that weird dark haired kid,” Kyle said as he entered and sat down with a slouch. But even the class slacker looked unusually tense. “Dude’s creepy, can’t put my finger on why but he definitely doesn’t belong.”

“Oh,” was all the teacher had to say. Suddenly he realized how cold the classroom had become, the uncomfortable feeling that was pressing ever so slightly down on them. “I suppose it makes sense, the ghosts have been quiet lately with the Truce and all. He probably got bored.”

“Sir?” Madison said.

“Shannon,” he said instead, looking over at the frizzy haired girl hunched over her sketchbook furiously at work. “Would you do me a favor and move to the vacant seat in the second row? Just for today.”

“What? Why?” the girl whined even as she gathered up her various arts supplies and got ready to move.

“That’s Mr. Fenton’s seat,” he said taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes in preparation for what he was about to see. Danny would come here, of course he would. This was Lancer’s old classroom and Danny had him for first period English Lit. He and Dash both did.

“Mr. Baxter? What’s going on, is it a ghost?” Malik asked from the back row while Shannon shuffled to her new temporary seat.

“Yes but you don’t need to be scared,” he said softly, evenly. “He won’t hurt you.” The bell rang but Dash didn’t start the lesson. Instead, he waited. Danny had never been on time to class the entire time Dash had known him, of course death wouldn’t change that.

“Sorry, I’m late Mr. Lancer,” Dash gripped his desk so he didn’t jump when Danny Fenton simply appeared in front of his desk instead of walking through the door like any other student. “My folks couldn’t drive me, they’re still working on their stupid ghost portal.” A quick glance over at this class showed varying levels of fear, shock and curiosity but they were Amity kids through and through. The cold, powerful energy radiating off Fenton told them it was best to play along with whatever the ghost wanted.

“Perfectly alright Mr. Fenton,” Dash said softly, searching the 14 year old’s perpetually young face. He hadn’t changed a bit since Dash last saw him their second week of freshman year. It seemed unreal seeing how the years had taken their toll on Casper’s favorite son, Dash Baxter. God had they really been that young once? “Take a seat and we’ll get started.”

Danny shrugged and walked over to the seat Shannon had just vacated. He sat just the same, one leg stretched out and the other propped up against the leg of the desk. As soon as he took off the backpack and put it around the chair, it disappeared. He didn’t say anything else, just sat as stared at Dash with piercing blue eyes like he could see right through him.

“We had been talking about the lead up to the Civil War but let’s table that for today,” Dash said, proud his voice only wavered a little. He knew other people had seen Fenton around town. Lina saw him standing outside the Nasty Burger maybe five or so years ago. Dale, who used to live near Fenton Works swore he sometimes saw someone moving through the windows of the long abandoned house. He’d always secretly dreaded the thought of seeing Danny Fenton again, afraid he’d finally get was coming to him.

“Instead, we’re going to talk about local history,” he continued, not daring to take his eyes off the undead teen. Every other living student was tense, afraid. He wished he could assure them that the ghost wouldn’t lay a hand on them. In the event Fenton decided to ditch the hero schtick, it would be Dash and Dash alone he’d come after. “Amity Park has long had rumors of being haunted dating all the way back to the 1600s. It wasn’t until the last century that scientists determined that Amity Park is located on top of a thin spot between our world and the ghost realm. Natural portals form here all the time allowing spirits to pass through.”

No one spoke and barely anyone breathed except for Danny would wasn’t breathing at all. He just sat and stared at Dash with steady, unblinking eyes.

“Jack and Maddie Fenton were the scientists who discovered the weak point in reality in Amity. They devoted their entire life to the study of ghosts and made remarkable advancements in our knowledge of ectobiology and culture, the first being,” he paused as Danny cocked his head in confusion, squinting his eyes suspiciously at Dash. “The first being their manmade portal to the ghost zone. The portal remained active for almost two decades for research purposes but was shut down following their deaths.”

“You’re not Mr. Lancer,” Danny said suddenly, his eyes shifting from baby blue to an ectoplasmic green. Marty, who was sitting to the left of Danny, swallowed a squeak of fear and squeezed his eyes shut.

“No,” Dash sighed, “Lancer died almost thirty years ago now. Best teacher I ever had, he gave me his blessing when he passed on the job to me.”

“I,” the ghost ran his hand through his hair which was starting to lose its color. Seeing Fenton looking so scared and confused made him ache. It reminded him of old times. Dash had spent most of his life making sure he helped hurt kids if only to make up for the one he’d never been able to make it up to. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s okay, Danny,” he soothed. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“The portal, it wasn’t working at first,” Danny justified, his aura glowing a little more. “Sam and Tuck, they were curious. They wanted to look but I told them it wasn’t allowed, Sam, Sam she dared me to go in. I put on the hazmat suit and went inside and found the on button inside. I accidentally hit it and-” he paused midsentence and looked down at his hands. They weren’t pale flesh anymore but covered in white gloves. The black was completely bleached from his hair. A few of the students gasped as they saw the strange would be student melt into Phantom, the ghostly hero who’d been protecting their town since their parents were young. “I died.”

So much time had gone by. People were born and people were buried and the truth became distorted until it was just a legend passed jokingly around cafeteria lunch tables. Amity’s youth had forgotten their town’s history until it was sitting in a desk, trying once more to be one of them.

“You did,” Dash said sadly. He remembered hearing the news of Fenton's death. An assembly had been called the morning after the accident. Lancer had cried at the podium, Manson and Foley hadn’t returned to school for a week and had never been the same again. Dash hadn’t known what to think at the time, only that the kid he’d beat up for the crime of being different would never show up to school again. Or so he’d thought. “It was a tragedy, you were mourned by a lot of people.”

“I know you, don’t I?” Danny said quietly before he sat up straighter. “Dash?”

“In the flesh,” Dash grinned shakily.

“But you’re so old,” Danny said, once more distressed. “Your hair is grey and there’s wrinkles on your face and-and you’re a teacher now?” The last line was said with incredulity, his eyes flaring again. “You used to push me down the stone steps of the school and shove me into my locker and call me names.”

“Yeah, I did,” he sighed, feeling every one of his years. He was pushing 70 but he didn’t think he’d ever stop feeling like a stupid 14 year old who took out his frustrations on the ones who didn’t deserve it. “But you were the last; I never touched another kid again. I’m married now, four kids. I’m vice principal now, teach History and coach the school’s football team. It’s,” his voice caught again, still unable to process how young and stupid Fenton looked sitting there like no time had passed at all. It made Dash feel like all his accomplishments and attempts to be better would never amount to anything so long as his last victim roamed the earth unable to find peace. “It doesn’t fix what I did back then but I make damn sure that there won’t be any bullying at Casper so long as I’m here.”

“Huh,” Danny said, slouching once more in his seat but it looked less like his earlier teenage laziness and more weary. He and Dash were the same age after all, just because only one of them got old doesn’t mean time didn’t still affect them. “You did change, a lot of things did.” Danny looked down at the desk, “how long has it been?”

“Almost 50 years,” Dash sighed. “My wife wants me to retire but I guess I always find more things to do.” He paused then decided it was now or never. “I’m sorry Danny, for hurting you back then. I wish I'd gotten to know you better.”

For just a moment, Danny was perfectly clear. Even half floating out of his chair and looking like the local celebrity, his eyes were so painfully human. A boy killed before he ever got a chance to get started. Who’s will to protect was so strong it lasted half a century. It haunted him late at night to think of the glory and power of Phantom overshadowing just how incredible Danny Fenton had been. Not that anyone had seen it at the time. Soon there wouldn’t be anyone left to remember that quiet, kind teenager and then Danny Fenton really would be dead. Kill him just as thoroughly as that portal had.

The moment was broken by a breath of cold leaking out of the ghost’s lips and, just like that, his highschool classmate was gone and Phantom was left in his stead. He looked curiously around the classroom as if he didn’t know how he’d gotten there.

“There’s a ghost, stay here and don’t leave unless the fighting gets too close. I’ll get it though, don’t worry. No kids are dying today.” Maybe it was Dash’s imagination but he thought he saw Phantom’s eyes linger on him for an extra moment, trying to place where he knew the teacher from. Dash just smiled.

“Our lives are in your hands. Good luck, Phantom,” the ghost teen saluted before fading away entirely. Dash let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, suddenly exhausted but also lighter at the same time. It wasn’t every day you got to look your mistakes in the face and apologize. “Shannon, you can move back now.”

“No, I’m okay here,” Shannon said as she flipped to a new page in her sketchbook and looked intently at the spot where Fenton had once sat. “It’s like you said, that’s Danny’s seat.”

“I had no idea, Phantom’s been around for like, ever,” Freddie mumbled, pushing up his glasses. “But he used to be just like us.” And still was, Dash thought sadly. Danny would never grow old, never go to space like he’d always dreamed or marry Manson like he’d probably intended to. He was stuck, in more ways than one for who knows how long.

“Yes, that’s why it’s important to know your history. The Civil War and my other lessons are important but we can’t forget these smaller, more intimate histories. If we lose these lessons to time then we risk repeating the same mistakes over again.” He looked his students in the eyes, holding their attention.

“So we’ll continue today with the local history. Before he was ghost butt kicking superhero, Phantom was Danny Fenton, son of the local ghost hunters and a bit of an outcast in town. The Daniel Fenton Foundation was founded about a year after his death and was-”

#danny phantom #dead danny au #if bitch fartman won't redeem dash then I guess it up to me #god can you imagine growing up and growing old only to look at your past victim in the eye and see nothing has changed for him?#i could go on and on about what other characters got up to #but this is about the tragedy of the loss of Danny Fenton #not only his life but his memory #time moves on and Fenton got lost in the mix #once Dash's generation dies then Fenton will just be a cautionary tale #a ghost story #No one will remember that their hero was one long before he got his powers #god Im fuckign sad now #eat up and enjoy your angst

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marchyslove · 3 years ago

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That Smile

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

It’s our one-year anniversary and I have no idea where he’s taking me. I see a blanket in the back seat, and I know it’s going to be something romantic because that’s how he is. He’s not one of those over-the-top romantics, but he has his moments.

We pull up to a big open park, not many people around but it’s dinner time so no surprise there. He got out, almost sprinted around the car to get the door for me.

*11 months earlier*

“So this is your place.” It’s exactly what you’d expect of someone like him, big, fancy, granite countertops, leather sectional, open spaces, a balcony with a hot tub and some couches. Rich people might not always look rich when you see them out on the street, but once you see where they live, there’s no denying they have money.

“It’s beautiful.”

He scratched the back of his neck nervously, “thanks, I’m not around enough to make it look the way I’d want it to, but I was thinking in the summer I might move some stuff around… make it more home-y.”

I eyed the guitar in the corner, ‘cliché,’ I thought. So many douchebags have guitars on display with no idea how to play them. So I challenged him to it. “you play?” “Yea, I do.” “Are you good?” “I’ve got a couple songs up my sleeve,” he said with a chuckle.

I plopped myself on the couch and pretzeled my legs, staring at him eagerly, “well, by all means, I’d love to hear one.” He didn’t hesitate, walked over and picked up the guitar, he came back and sat right next to me.

“any requests?”

“you know any Clapton? Cliché I know, but I love his music.”

“not cliché at all, anything specific?”

“surprise me.”

In an instant I knew the song, my favorite. When I was younger my mom and I would always listen to 70’s and 80’s radio whenever we were in the car together. Softer, slower music, played later in the day. Then there was bedtime radio that started at 9 at night. It would always start with “Wonderful Tonight” by Eric Clapton.

He must’ve noticed the smile on my face, because he started smiling too. “You like this one?”

“Love,” I answered, almost too quickly.

His smile grew.

He had one of those smiles that could make flowers bloom, or make babies stop crying. It wasn’t perfect by any means, even a little crooked, but it made fireworks go off in my stomach.

“It’s a great song, and easy enough to learn cause it’s slower. Not too many different chords.”

“It’s one of my favorites. The lyrics are incredible.”

“Can you sing?”

“Not even a little bit, I’m so bad.” Trying to find something to change the subject I started glancing around the room. My eyes went to the balcony. I got up from the couch and went over to the door. I felt a presence behind me. “We can go out if you want.” So I opened the door and step outside.

The warm, summer breeze felt like a hug. I walked around a bit, glancing at the lights and down at the street below. “Careful,” he said as he took a cautious step towards me. I didn’t realize how much I had been leaning over the edge. “Heights never really scared me.” “Well that’s good, but still… careful.” “I always am.”

I looked up; outside the city the stars were a little more visible. “Beautiful,” I said under my breath. Again, I felt a presence behind me. “You big into astrology?” “Only enough to know my star sign, and that it apparently fits me well. Beyond that, I just like to look at the stars.” “Do you know the names of any of them? Or constellations?”

My confidence grew a little bit. My summers laying outside in the grass playing around with the app on my phone that labeled the stars if you point your camera at the sky were finally about to pay off.

“That one is Sirius. It’s the brightest of them all.” “That’s easy to remember. That’s one of the dippers right?,” he asked, pointing up. “The big dipper, the little dipper is right there, and over there is Ursa Major, its shaped like a bear.” “That means there’s an ursa minor, right?” “Very good work detective,” I teased jokingly, pinching his cheek. He gave a giggle and winked at me. My heart skipped a beat.

“So you know a decent amount about stars?” “I know where they are and how to find them, I don’t know much past that.” “Impressive,” he said as he kissed my cheek.

We walked for a little bit towards the center of the park. He carried the basket; I had the blanket. “I’ve never heard of this place.” “I had to do a bit of research to find it.” “Any reason you chose this park in particular?” “You’ll see.” There’s that smile, after a year I still get the same fireworks when I see it. I glance over at him, and he’s already looking at me. “What are you looking at?” “My girl,” he said with a wink.

He stopped walking abruptly. He looked up at the sky, then around the park. Looking back at the car he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He put down the basket and looked through his phone for something. “Are we stopping here?” “One sec, I have to check.” “What’s the difference between here and 5 feet away?” “You’ll see, but I have to make sure we’re in the right spot.” He put his phone back in his pocket, took 8 steps forward, turned back towards me and grinned, “here.” “Fair enough,” I walked over.

He laid out the blanket, put the basket on it. I hadn’t seen him pack the basket; I actually only saw it for the first time when he picked me up today.

He opened the basket and pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses. I sat down and started pouring. “Shit, give me one second,” and before I realized what was happening, he was running back towards the car. I took this opportunity to sneak a peak in the basket. Chocolate covered strawberries, little triangle-cut sandwiches, a little bin of grapes, some crackers- “no peaking!,” he yelled as he made his way back to me. “Too late babe.”

He was carrying four pillows and dropped them when he came over. “What are these for?” “Comfort, we might have the blanket, but it won’t be comfortable without the pillows.” “Yea, I guess I could’ve put that together.” “I mean if you had an idea of doing more, the pillows will definitely help,” another wink.

He had all the makings of a douchebag, on the surface level. He has that superiorly confident look to him. The way he walks, he doesn’t think he’s better than anyone, but that’s the vibe you get from him if you judge him solely based on looks. If you saw him on the street you might think he was the biggest fuckboy on the planet, but then you talk to him.

He’s goofy, in the best way. He’s smart. You wouldn’t think it, but he’s better at quick mental math than anyone I’ve met, and he knows geography like he’s traveled the entire world himself. He likes to talk about anything and everything. On our first date we spent an hour talking about different birds we’d both seen, and our favorites. He likes loons because they sound funny, I like bluebirds because of their beautiful color. I didn’t have much interest in birds until that conversation. Now every time I see a bluebird I think of him. My family went on vacation last month and we rented a lake house. Every morning I’d hear the loon calling and think of that smile.

“Hey you, whatcha thinking about?,” he poked my cheek, I snapped out of my zoned out state, “you.” He turned away a little but I saw the blush creeping onto his cheeks. He had pulled everything out of the basket and tossed it to the side. “Grapes?,” he offered, holding one up in front of my mouth, I opened, and he placed it in my mouth gently, like it was fragile. The sun was starting to set, that’s when I realized there were no lights around. All we had was a tiny lantern he had pulled out of the basket. The view we had of the sunset was incredible, I hadn’t kept track of time on the drive here, so I really had no idea how far outside of the city we were. “How much research did you do exactly?” “Alright to be fair I asked a buddy if he knew any romantic spots and after I got him to quit joking about sex, he gave me a few. Then I googled them and found this place.” “It’s beautiful.” “Not as beautiful as you.” “Oh hush-,” he interrupted me with a kiss.

We ate as the sun set, starting the strawberries just as the last bits of golden light dipped below the horizon. He turned on the lantern.

The glow lit up his face, he was really handsome. His skin looked so smooth and he had those long eyelashes that all guys have, it made me jealous. That smile, again. He kissed me, again. He shut the lantern off while we were kissing. He pulled the pillows over and put them behind us, he laid back and spread his arm out. I laid down and put my head on his arm.

He kissed the top of my head, “Sirius,” he pointed toward the star. “Glad you remembered,” I teased. Another wink. He pointed up again, “look.” As I glanced up, there was a light that shot across the sky. “A shooting star. I’ve never seen one,” he was staring in awe. “Make a wish.” “I don’t need to, I have you.” I rolled my eyes, “you are such a cheeseball.”

We laid there pointing out the different stars and constellations. “You’ve been studying,” I glanced up at him. “I wanted to impress you,” he stated, followed by another kiss. I’ve never seen the stars so bright and clear. “Is this why you were so stingy about the spot?” He looked down at me, “I needed to make sure the view was clear so we could see everything.” Like I said, he’s not a huge romantic, but he has his moments. We kept watching the stars in the most comfortable silence. Then, almost as if he let it slip out accidentally, he whispered, “I am so in love with you.” I waited to see if he’d say anything else, but he was quiet, a nervous quiet. “Ditto,” I giggled and glanced up at him. And, without fail, there it was again, that smile.

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Okay be nice! It's my first work, and like I said- I don't consider myself to be much of a writer. I hope you guys like it, I kept thinking about the idea and wanted to give it a shot! I purposely left names and too-specific details out so people can think of whoever they'd like, and hey! feel free to add the person you thought of to the tags if you reblog, I love stuff like that! Maybe I'll write more if people like it enough :)

If you like it please give it a like and reblog, it would be much appreciated!

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butwhyduh · 4 years ago

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Jumping

Tim drake x reader

This is during the time that Dick has to fake his own death. I’m also ignoring most of canon tbh. Mentions suicide ideals.

You worried about Tim. I mean, you always had since you met him in a coffee shop and they gave him your order instead of his and all he did was ask for a shot of espresso to go with it. But tonight you were terribly concerned because Tim was so sad that he was dull. His shiny black hair hang limp and his bright blue eyes looked dull and blood shot.

You couldn’t exactly blame him. It was only 2 week before that his brother Dick had died. He hadn’t touched his computer all day but instead sat staring at various places around his apartment. You forced him to eat a very late meal and he took all of 3 bite from his food.

You washed up and went back in the living room for him to be gone.

“Tim? Tim?” You asked. You noticed the window to the fire escape was open. You walked over and shivered at the cold breeze.

He was standing on the edge of the roof and you froze. Your first thought was ‘is he going to jump?’ Your heart pounded as you gently called him and it scared you even more when he didn’t respond.

“Tim? Timothy? Tim, what are you doing?” You said with fear creeping in your voice. There was no way that you could climb the stairs up a level to stop him if he jumped right now. He looked down at you disoriented.

“What?”

“Please step back. You’re- you’re scaring me. Tim, please,” you said and he took a step back but looked bewildered. You quickly climbed the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” He asked in a daze. You pulled him into a hug and farther from the edge. Your body was shaking and he confusingly pat your back reassuringly.

“Don’t scare me like that,” you chided him before mentally kicking yourself. If he was that bad, he needed support not anger. He really didn’t seem to get it.

“What are you talking about? What’s got you so scared?” He finally said clearly.

“I thought- I thought you were going to jump,” you said burying your head in crook of his neck. Your fingers gripped the back of his shirt tightly and you listened to his heartbeat. You might never let go of him.

“Oh shit. I wasn’t- no. I just needed to think,” he said rubbing your hair gently. “Sorry I scared you.”

“It’s okay. I’m just worried. It’s a lot to lose your brother. Maybe you should talk to someone,” you said gently. He looked at you guiltily.

“I’ve been a little too lost in it, hu? Sorry. It’s just that.... I never expected this to happen. He always seemed invincible. He’d jump off the roof with no hooks or nets and swing on light poles before landing on the ground and wouldn’t hurt a thing. He’d take on metas and come out unscathed. That was just Dick, you know?” Tim said after a minute. “Nobody knew how he did it.”

Tim pulled you both to sit on a lawn chair on the roof. Your fingers played with the back of his hair and you couldn’t stop looking at him because you had never been so worried to lose Tim before. He flinched at the sight of how you looked at him. You were genuinely terrified earlier.

“I wouldn’t jump. I wouldn’t do that. Especially not to you,” Tim said and it scared you that you weren’t sure if he meant that he’d never do it or not where you’d possibly see. “Don’t worry. I’m right here.”

You let yourself believe that and you leaned into him, pressing your ear against his chest. His heartbeat calmed you and you listened to it as he rubbed your back. He stared out at the sky and Tim didn’t know how long you were both out there before he noticed that you had fallen asleep. He smiled a little.

Then his next thought was the logistics of getting you down to your bed without waking you. The fire escape wasn’t exactly built for carrying people through. Soft goosebumps were on your arms in the cold and Tim carefully picked you up and miraculously made it back into your apartment. After a few hair raising seconds where he almost smacked your head and feet on a door frame, he managed to get you in bed.

You hands had a death grip on his shirt and Tim was pulled into bed. It wasn’t the worst idea to get some sleep. And he certainly felt that he owed you some peace of mind after he scared you so bad. When was the last time he fell asleep? He laid back and you clung to him tightly.

The next morning you woke up warm. Far too warm. And arm was thrown over your face that you wiggled out from under and another held your back. You stretched your fingers that felt like they had been gripping something all night. The sun was out and Tim was still in bed. You put the pieces from the night before together and looked up at his face.

There was no scowl or wrinkle in his brow. He looked peaceful. His lips had a slight pout in sleep. His face had a light smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks and his hair had fallen over his eyes. You gently brushed it back to get a better look at his beautiful face. You held the back of his head as light as you could while staring at him. You almost never got this view and you just watched him sleep for a few minutes.

“Isn’t it rude to stare,” he said after a while. You jumped a little and laughed.

“Did I wake you?” You asked.

“No. I think I actually got a full night sleep,” Tim said and he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“Yeah, we should probably get breakfast,” you said moving to get up. Tim wrapped his arms around you tighter and squished you to his chest. You squeaked.

“Not yet. A few more minutes,” he mumbled almost back asleep. You chuckled and booped his nose. Tim’s eyes flew open. “What was that?”

“Waking you up,” you said and he gave you a fake glare before his arms slowly moved. Then Tim attacked your sides with a tickle. You shrieked and jumped back before he stopped. He smiled at you almost ruefully before gently kissing you chastely. His smile fell when he pulled back.

“I’ve got to go to Bludhaven today. Take care of some of his stuff that he’d want to keep,” Tim said and you frowned.

“Do you need me to go?” You were still worried about him.

“No, Jason is going. Don’t worry about me, okay,” Tim said seriously. “I need to get up because he’ll be here in 30 minutes? Maybe?”

The knock on the door said that his timing was a little off. Tim got up to go answer it. Jason stood there and he frowned as he looked Tim over.

“That’s your clothes from yesterday.”

“I’ve got to change,” Tim said, letting him in. You came out of the room with a sweater over your clothes and smiled at Jason who nodded his head at you. Tim went in the bedroom to change.

“Hey,” you whispered, barely audible. Jason looked at you confused. You hadn’t really interacted much before. “Watch out for him. He’s not okay. Alright?”

Jadon just nodded. “Anything I should know?”

“No. Not really. He scared me last night,” you admitted as you put on a pot of coffee. Jason gave you a look that clearly read ‘do I need to kick his ass?’

“What did he do?”

“He just stood on the roof edge. I thought- I thought he was going to jump,” you whispered and Jason’s face dropped. Tim hadn’t exactly had the most self preservation in his history.

“Shit, seriously?” He said with a sigh. You nodded.

“But he just seemed confused when I found him. I’m worried. Just watch out for him, okay?” You said.

“What are you two talking about?” Tim said walking in the room, throwing on a tie.

“Really? A full suit?” Jason said rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, one of us needs to look like a functional adult in case someone stops by. I can’t exactly wear sweats everywhere as WE’s CEO,” Tim said. You straightened the tie and collar.

“... and then there is you,” Tim said looking at Jason after you were done. “You look like you tattoo out of the back parking lot of a Denny’s.”

“Maybe I do,” he said dryly with a little curl to his lip. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

Tim nodded and gave you a kiss and Jason groaned by the door. He gave the ‘come on’ hand gesture. Tim rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know when I’m going to be back. See you later.”

“Bye.”

Half ways down the highway, with Tim as a captive audience, Jason starts to talk.

“How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

“Cut the shit. For real,” Jason said, violently passing a slow car on the highway in his truck. Tim grips the dash and is sure he’s going to die.

“I’m fine. Why do you think I’m lying?” Tim said through gritted teeth. Jason keeps driving roughly.

“Well, your girlfriend thought you were going to kill yourself last night and that isn’t exactly the first thought I’d have if I saw you on the roof. So either she’s being dramatic or you’re acting really off. Which is it, Timbo?” Jason said. Tim never missed Dick more. Jason had the subtly of a butter knife to the gut.

“I might be a little sadder, sure. I mean, my brother died,” Tim said. “Can you drive without trying to kill us?”

“I’m driving fine. Go on,” Jason said, crossing 3 lanes. The squeals of car horns behind them tell Tim he isn’t the only one that doesn’t like his driving.

“I’m gonna die in this car,” Tim muttered. Jason glared at him. “Watch the road! Okay. Fine. I feel numb. Okay? Like I don’t feel happy or sad about anything. And I’m fucking guilty because I should be over the moon because I just moved in with my girlfriend and then...”

“Then your brother died. It’s normal to feel like shit Tim. But to be numb.... you ever think you’re depressed?” Jason asked.

“I don’t know. I have anxiety,” Tim answered.

“You can have both. Is it this exit or the next?” Jason asked two second before the ramp comes up.

“This!” Tim yelped and Jason turned them off to a side road going at least 70 mph. Tim held the dash and considered praying despite being an atheist. Jason finally slowed down enough to not look like he’s driving a getaway car.

“I think you should see a therapist. I can give you mine’s number,” Jason said and Tim quickly turned to look at him.

“I didn’t know you went to therapy.”

“I was tortured, beat to death, and had to dig myself out of my own coffin. Does that seem mentally okay in anyway?”

“I mean, no. But I don’t know,” Tim said with a shrug. He just hadn’t thought about it.

“Anyways that’s not the point. The point is that she’s used to Gotham’s brand of bullshit and will help you. Okay?” Jason said driving into a parking lot and skidding into a space. “If you scare your girl like that again, I’ll knock you out.”

“Yeah. I won’t scare her again. It was an accident. And I’ll talk to your therapist,” Tim agreed. Jason nodded.

“Let’s go do something I’ve been dreading all week. Clean out golden boy’s apartment,” he said with a grimace. And they did. Anything of value was personally taken by the pair. Anything of Nightwing or Robin. Any Flying Grayson stuff. Anything that his brothers had gotten him. A moving service was moving the rest to a storage unit later that day.

Jason sat on the concrete steps outside the apartment and tossed Tim a beer. Tim barely caught it before sitting down himself. Jason pulled out his own.

“Jason, I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars to not drink that before we leave. Can we have this moment at the manor after we survive the drive home?” Tim asked and Jason sighed.

“Sure kid. Dickhead wouldn’t have liked me getting you drunk anyways. Let’s get this stuff back,” Jason said and they both went to the truck.

After dropping off the stuff and talking to Alfred, Tim and Jason were back in the truck. The beers were mercifully forgotten. Jason passed him a paper with a name and number.

“My therapist. You better call them. If not for you, for your girlfriend. You can just talk and shit,” he said not looking off the road. Jason knew better than to think that this kind of thing could be done for someone else. But he also knew it probably only took a tiny push for Tim to get help.

“Yeah, thanks.”

A few hours later Tim sat on his bed with his phone in hand. Yeah, he needed to call them.

#tim drake angst #tim drake x reader #Red Robin x reader #Jason todd is a good brother #dick is dead #batboy x reader

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jedivszombie · 4 years ago

Text

Okay gang, since there are a bunch of anons going fucking wild across the dash tonight about some joking posts about Mark Webber and Ann Neal - that were someone’s shocked reaction to the age difference between them. I thought it would be interesting to go on a little journey together.

This little journey is the story of how Ann and Mark met, and will hopefully give you guys some insight as to why the ‘sexism’ and ‘ageism’ arguments you are currently using are bullshit - and why using these words in such a buzzword way actually is not the kind of critical thinking you think it is. And why this situation is more akin to a student and teacher starting a relationship - which I think we can all agree is not advisable, even if you don’t know why.

Below the cut is going to be a little discussion of Mark and Ann the early days; the reason the age difference is iffy at best and fucked up at worst; and, a little discussion about how these situations require nuance and the ways in which f1blr often likes to blow situations out of proportion.

I have split it into three parts:

Mark and Ann: The Early Days (1994-1997)

Nuance, my old friend. Anon hate, my enemy. (tw: for racism here, be careful)

The pitfalls of discourse and the importance of looking after yourself.

A little disclaimer for you guys: I do not pretend to know anything about this relationship, other than what is readily available to learn about it from what they themselves have put out about it. I am just providing a timeline and some facts. Whatever conclusions you draw from it are your own.

Feel free to come for me if you so desire.

Mark and Ann: The Early Days (1994-1997)

We start our story in Australia in February, 1994. Mark is competing in Australian Formula Ford Championship and Ann Neal is the new media and PR officer for the category. This is their first meeting. Just so we know what’s up here Mark was 17 at the time, and Ann was absolutely an adult (apparently there is a 13 year age gap, which may not sound like much but we will get onto that later, which makes her roughly 30 when they first met).

Some key things to be aware of from this first meeting:

Mark is 17, Ann is about 30. Mark is a young racer, Ann is the media and PR officer for the category he races in.

In an excerpt from Aussie Grit, p. 57 to be exact, we get to find out what Ann had to say about the first time they met:

“She thought I was a bit of a smart-arse when we first met. ‘But I liked how bold and cheeky he was,’ she says, ‘and how mature he seemed. When I asked someone how old he was, I was shocked when they said 17 – he was confident beyond his years.’”

In another excerpt from Aussie Grit, p. 61, Mark tells us other things Ann remembers about their first meeting:

“Ann remembers our first meeting and my opening remark about her being so important. She can even remember what I was wearing – a stripey green and red top, one of those United Colors of Benetton things – so that was pretty prophetic, as things turned out!”

Now this may sound extremely cute to some of you, like they’re just having a normal ‘aww remember how we met’ moment. But let me please re-direct your attention back to the fact that Mark is 17 (and still not an adult yet if this is what you are gonna nitpick about) and Ann is very much an adult, in a position of power.

So, a teenager makes a quip about how important you are and you commit to memory what he was wearing the day it happened?

Now let’s bring in the first quote I put up there where Ann herself was recalling the first time they met. I would like to draw your attention to the following sentence: ‘and how mature he seemed. When I asked someone how old he was, I was shocked when they said 17 – he was confident beyond his years.’

Hmmmm, where have we all heard language like this used before? If, like me, you have some experience of adults trying to start inappropriate relationships with you as a teenager then you will be very familiar to this sort of language. The emphasis is on how mature he seemed, is what’s sticking out for me here tbh.

Now, if this had been a fleeting meeting, and they had met again a few years later, I would be more on board for whatever justification some of the anons have been trying to use. However, it wasn’t.

Again from Aussie Grit, p.61:

“After that first meeting we kept in touch. My family sometimes met up with Ann and Luke for weekend get-togethers, and I ensured she got her motor-sport fixes by dragging all my old F1 tapes out. By way of revenge she would bring down all her British Formula Ford tapes for me.”

Oh cool, so she gained the trust of his family and Mark was hanging out with her son. This is so sweet Alexa, play Chosen Family by Rina Sawayama. Real talk though, again if this is how it had ended - with them just being family friends - then we would not be having this conversation.

BUT, we all know how this little story ends so onwards we march. We shoot forward to late 1994, Mark has done okay in Formula Ford but his Dad is no longer able to fund him. SO, he turns to their old pal - the ever present and super helpful Ann, bless her heart - to try and drum up some sponsorship for Mark so he can race.

Little background on why Ann was chosen to try and help with this, I’ll give you 3 guesses and only one of them is correct. Yes, that’s right, it’s her experience - which she has managed to get by being 30 and having a background in motorsports. She started out as a motorsport journo and ended up dealing with press and PR for Paul Warwick (Derek Warwick’s brother). In 1986 she started dealing with Johnny Herbert’s media before working for Formula Ford in Europe in 1991.

Ann begrudgingly accepts and draws up plans with Mark, which leads him to a Yellow Pages sponsorship for his next season in Formula Ford, and beyond - how sweet, how nice, they are #winning! We stan teamwork besties! And Ann started working with Mark and his family to further his career.

Ann had a plan for Mark, as outlined in Aussie Grit, p.69-70:

“By the end of 1995 Annie told me, in no uncertain terms, that – and I quote – I had to get my arse out of there. She didn’t just mean Australian Formula Ford, either: she meant Australia. She thought it was time for me to go and have a crack at some of the big guys, and she proposed to help me go about it in a serious, business-like way.

‘How the f#*k are you going to get to Formula 1 coming from Queanbeyan?’ Anyone who wants to trace my journey should start with a piece of paper that Ann drew up on 6 July 1995.”

So, now Ann has outlined her hopes for Mark and a glimmering career in motorsport. I would like us to know that at this point in time Mark was the ripe old age of 18, going on 19.

In 1996 Ann and Mark moved properly to the UK so Mark could drive in the British Formula Ford Championship - at this point Mark is still 19. At this point he is living in the UK with Ann and her mother, and Ann’s son.

So this is probably sounding pretty okay so far and sure it’s just a business relationship with a business set up, like no real cause for concern. But then we discover that this business relationship had turned into a relationship-relationship pretty damn fast.

From the horses mouth himself, Aussie Grit, p.87:

“Back in England, Ann and I moved house to Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire, on the edge of motor sport’s equivalent of Silicon Valley. We had started out as teammates and friends on a mission but over time our friendship had deepened into something else. I enjoyed spending time with her and we felt entirely comfortable in each other’s company. Moving to England was a huge step for me and I think it was a case of us needing one another and that’s how the relationship was formed.”

Okay, okay, okay so I know at this point Mark is 19/20 he’s an adult right? He can make his own choices. But, can we please admit that at best it’s an iffy situation because of the position of power and authority she was in? In his life? For his career?

There are a few other excerpts I found particularly interesting, about Mark’s family’s reaction (all from Aussie Grit, chapter 3):

“My parents came over to the UK in the English summer of 1997. While they were thrilled about how things were developing for me in racing, they’d been less thrilled by the romantic relationship that was developing between Annie and me....” “...Annie was bitterly disappointed at my behaviour. Her plan to take me to the highest level of motor sport was starting to go horribly wrong, so she left Australia earlier than planned and headed back to Europe. My family arranged for Alan Docking to collect my belongings from the house we had been sharing and the one and only car Annie and I had at that stage...Campese Management told her that they had been instructed by the Webber family to terminate her role as my manager and that Campese Management would be taking over all aspects of my career, including the negotiation of my driving contracts.“

“While I knew Annie provided the support and guidance I needed in my racing career, I was missing her in so many other ways too. We were such a dynamic force in every sense; we could make things happen when we were together. We were teammates, soul mates, call it what you want.“

“As to Mum’s concern about our age difference, that has never been a factor for us. When we began to be more open about being together, perhaps the top end of the age gap shocked a few people. In those days people were less accepting of a big age difference between partners, especially when it’s our way round. It’s not such a big deal nowadays and it makes us laugh when so-called celebrities reveal they’re dating an older woman or younger man!“

While the Daily Mail is trash, the beginning of this video is very revealing to me - particularly Jackie Stewart’s comments from 00:12.

Obviously you can make up your own conclusions from all of this information, and I would once again like to point out that none of us - not me, not the anons, not you - actually know the nature of their relationship. They have been together for 24 years - good for them! Whatever they have going has obviously worked for them, this is not me trying to shit on that or anything, and I’m gonna be real I’m not the biggest Mark Webber fan.

Nuance, my old friend. Anon hate, my enemy.

All I want to do is add some nuance to the conversation, an overview of the timeline, an understanding of what the facts are. So that some of those cowardly anons (or anon) can hop off their self-built thrones and get a grip. The sexism and ageism argument literally does not apply here, for all of the evidence and reasons listed above - if the situation was flipped we would still be calling it out. The only difference is you guys would probably be on board with it being called out.

So Ann is a woman? So, what? Do you think she’s above reproach? You think one person’s 50 note post on this site is gonna rock the foundation of a relationship that has been 26 years in making? If you have answered yes to any of these questions then you are either: a) Mark Webber himself, or b) delusional as hell. You really think that responding by sending anon hate to a teenager, who btw only made a post calling out the age difference because she was shocked and had just discovered it, is the right way to go?

You really think that sending me this message, attacking other people in such a vile and racist manner is okay?

So you don’t like Nehir and Sera? Good for you, go block them, if you follow them, unfollow them. Those options are free and readily available to you.

For me, it’s so funny to see you hiding behind that little Anon mask spewing this vile shit. The commitment you have to proving that you are just a cowardly person with nothing better to do than rag on a bunch of different people for reblogging a post, that in the long run is not going to reach the people it’s about, is outstanding. I really hope you pat yourself on the back for this one.

The pitfalls of discourse and the importance of looking after yourself.

There has definitely been a spate of ‘conversations’ that have been happening recently that have very much been straying into the land of discourse, over very small comments or posts. I think that some people need to remember that we’re all here for our own entertainment and as soon as it stops being fun - you are allowed to log off; you are allowed to block people; you are allowed to unfollow people.

Sending anon hate is so counterproductive to whatever conversation you think you are starting or having with a person. Also guys, sometimes it’s not that deep - sometimes jokes are just jokes, sometimes someone finds out something they didn’t know about a driver or an ex-driver and they make a joke post about it. That does not give you the right to send them hate, or to make racist comments in other people’s asks.

Sometimes these discussions require a debate and sometimes discourse can be good - but honestly? I’m worried about some of you guys, it is not healthy to get so angry at other people for the things they post on their blogs that you are not obligated to follow or interact with at all.

I am also worried about people who turn every little thing into something discoursey. There are causes and issues to care about in this sport and community, for sure. But sometimes you also have to pick your battles - especially when I know a lot people in this community have fragile mental health. I do not say this to patronise any of you but to just provide a reminder that you do not need to engage with everything that makes your blood boil, and furthering some of these conversations sometimes is not doing you guys any good. Burnout is real.

Please take some time to take care of yourselves, the pandemic is doing a number on all of us and I know being online gives you a gateway to being connected to people, but sometimes you just have to walk away from a discussion. Sometimes you have to just go and reblog something unrelated, or stare at a photo of your favourite driver, or listen to some angry music. Anything else to process your knee jerk reaction, to give yourself time to figure out how you feel about something and whether it’s worth engaging in or not.

#maisie talks #the post that no one asked for but we sure as shit needed #anon hate below the cut #would also like to say that i am not pretending to know shit about their relationship and this is all information provided by the couple #themselves #under the cut is a bunch of information about their relationship up to you how you take it but i know how i feel #tw racism #i went insane i've seen the opposite of god #thnx ana for supporting my rage #here i am a hundred years late and a dollar short #mark webber

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madamewriterofwrongs · 4 years ago

Note

“Let’s share my coat, since you’re so cold.” For Buddie plz bc imagine the potential 💛🥺

So sorry about the long wait, my darling. I hope you enjoy <3

Hold My Hand When No One’s Looking

911/Buddie

Honestly, Eddie hadn’t noticed it right away. He and Buck were relatively the same size (though the other man was a bit wider in the chest and arms) and spent much of their day in uniforms. It also so happened that the two of them had similar styles when it came to their civilian clothing. There was a lot of denim and a lot of circle-necked shirts in their shared wardrobe.

He’d known that asking Buck to move in with him would mean surrendering to the fact that everything he owned would slowly become ‘theirs’. His favourite show became their late-night binge, his unhealthy snack choices mysteriously disappeared whenever Buck was left alone to babysit Christopher, and one time he swore that his toothbrush had been moved – though he’d never been able to prove it. But Eddie didn’t mind, not really. Buck had already stolen his heart, so he’d happily let him steal the rest of his life.

Telling Carla that very thing when she’d asked him about his mismatched socks had earned him a side-splitting laugh and a text to Buck, who later teased him mercilessly for the rest of the week.

He still had no regrets about letting him in.

Because that was what you did where there was love and trust. You didn’t mind sharing because you had someone who wanted to share with you in the first place.

He was even becoming better at opening up about personal things. He still struggled to admit when he was scared or upset about something because for so long, he’d understood that expressing his feelings wasn’t his job. Though he knew better now, it was still a monumental task for Eddie to share some anecdote about his childhood or speak up when Buck said something that struck an errant nerve.

But it was worth it, he vowed. It was worth it to try, and he didn’t mind sharing those things with Buck. He didn’t think he minded sharing anything with his partner.

That is to say: he was fine, until he searched through his closet one morning, scrambling to get to work on time because someone had hit the snooze button one too many times.

“Where is my grey sweatshirt?” He threw the pile of clothes from the closet floor to the bed. “Where are any of my sweatshirts?”

“Laundry?” Buck called from the bathroom, poking his head out with a toothbrush still dangling from his lips.

“There’s no way I got every single one of my sweatshirts dirty since the last time I did the laundry.” As he continued his search, he could hear Buck rinse and spit before beginning his morning routine of styling his hair with way too much product for Eddie’s liking (though he’d never complain because it gave him a chance to play with his hair throughout the day until it was exactly to his preferences). Sure enough, he found a collection of clothes in the hamper that definitely resembled his but he did not remember wearing.

Though he did remember watching Buck spill ketchup on a grey sweater that looked suspiciously like his.

How had he not noticed before? How long had Buck just been taking clothes out of his closet? Why hadn’t he bothered to ask first? He would have been happy to share – well maybe not elated but he wouldn’t have minded – but for Buck to just take them without permission (and then get them dirty)? It bothered him more than he thought it should have.

He wants to wear your clothes, the untamed romantic portion of his brain swooned.

He’s stretching out your shirts without asking, the frantic portion grumbled as he searched for a wearable sweatshirt from the pile of clothes that had apparently become communal without his knowledge.

“Did you find it?” Buck reentered the bedroom, now looking much more put together than Eddie felt.

“I found something.” He grumbled as he threw the black shirt over his head, grimacing at the old clothes smell that lingered on the fabric. “When we get home, you’re doing laundry.”

Buck squawked as he threw on his own – clean – shirt. “Why do I have to do it?”

Because it’s your fault I don’t have any clothes to wear. If he’d had time, he might have launched into a lecture about why this small thing frustrated him so much. But alas, they were already running behind, so he silenced them both with a kiss.

“No complaints.” He gently ordered, smirking at the way Buck immediately melted under his touch. It was a nice reminder that the feeling of adoration was very much mutual between them.

“Okay.”

“Let’s go.” He smacked Buck on the behind as they stumbled out the bedroom door. “If we’re late again, Bobby will make us scrub the truck with a toothbrush. Again.”

After that morning, it was as though Eddie became hyperaware of how often Buck wore his clothes. At least twice per week, he’d find his favourite t-shirt in the back of his boyfriend’s closet, or search for several minutes only to discover someone else’s ass in his only clean jeans.

Once, he’d grabbed one of Buck’s pants in protest, but spent the entire day pulling at the inseam and ended up rolling the pantlegs just to avoid tripping.

And yet, when the boy with the giraffe legs wore his pants, it looked hot.

Did it look hot? Of course, Eddie had surrendered to his physical attraction to Buck long ago. Nearly anything that man wore would get him going. Was there something about seeing Buck in his clothes that made him look exceptionally appealing?

The day he pulled one of his nicer dress shirts over his head, only to find the sleeves had been completely stretched (and there were definitely a few seams missing) was the day he decided that no amount of sexiness would let him forgive Buck for stealing his clothes.

Maybe it was petty of him to start hiding his good clothes. And maybe it was immature to start separating their laundry – not to mention a waste of water – but at least he knew he’d have his own clean clothes to wear. It wasn’t like Buck was lacking for wardrobe. The man took up the majority of their shared closet with his selections. “Something for every occasion.” He’d told Eddie. Which made it all the more confusing that he would want to take from Eddie’s meager pile.

“Hey, Eddie, can I borrow your green long sleeve?” He asked as he searched the closet for the item without waiting for a reply. Of course, Eddie knew that he wouldn’t find the shirt amongst its brethren because he’d hidden it in a bin under the bed for this exact occasion.

At least he’s finally asking for permission. Too late for him, now.

“I don’t have a green long sleeve.” Eddie continued to dress with the picture of innocence masking his satisfied smirk.

“I’m sure you do.” Buck mumbled as he headed towards the dresser (also 70% Buckley). “I wore it to Bobby’s BBQ three weeks ago.”

“Oh, so he admits to wearing my clothes.” His mumbled sarcasm was intended to only pacify his own needs, but unfortunately, his boyfriend had excellent hearing at the most inconvenient of times.

“What do you mean ‘he admits’?”

Well, Eddie glanced at the alarm clock to confirm they had just enough time to get into their discussion, he might as well bring it up now instead of months in the future when it had grown into an even worse frustration and festered into every aspect of their relationship. Or they could nip it in the bud now.

Despite the topic of discussion, he was still surprised when he gave a long sigh and turned around only to find a very shirtless Buck standing before him. He was only momentarily distracted by the smooth lines and soft, exposed skin – he was only human – but he recovered with most of his dignity intact.

“You have so many clothes but you always wear mine. Why?”

Of course, Buck looked sheepishly adorable, and perhaps a little confused at the hostility being directed towards him. “I like your clothes. I didn’t think you minded.”

“Well I do mind. You keep stretching the fabric and then you get them dirty and I have nothing to wear.” Eddie was proud of his composure in the face such a stunned and sweetly wide-eyed expression.

“Oh, I-I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

The logical portion of his brain knew very well that if Eddie simply told Buck that this was bothering him, he’d stop immediately. Why it took him so long to bring it up and then felt surprised by the outcome, he still wasn’t sure. One look at the sincerity on his boyfriend’s face and him reaching an arm to summon him to his side.

Buck took his hand immediately, letting himself stumble into Eddie’s embrace and throw his arms around his waist with practiced ease. This was comfortable. This, he could do: hold Buck close and tell him the truth.

“I don’t like that you didn’t ask me first if you could borrow my clothes. That bothers me more than a few ruined shirts (although, I’m still not letting you wear my green long sleeve. It’s one of my favourite shirts and I’d like to preserve some of the shape).” Buck opened his mouth to call out his lie from moments earlier but wisely closed it a moment later. “Just ask, okay?”

The man in his arms quickly nodded, a shy smile on his lips. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I’ll ask before borrowing your clothes again.”

He knew he was being too cheeky for his own good, but how could he resist those kissable lips? “I’m sorry, I’m what, now?” Buck scrunched his face, preparing to protest, silenced a moment later by Eddie pulling him just close enough for their lips to meet.

Kissing Buck had quickly become one of Eddie’s favourite past times. A quick peck at work, a long reunion after a long day, a sloppy smooch against the truck after one of them had consumed too much alcohol but they were both drunk on each other (and he’d wisely kept that particular nugget of poetry to himself, lest he face more ridicule). The largest change when taking the sidestep from ‘best friends’ to ‘lovers’ had been their level of physical contact, which had always been comfortably close. Now, there was no space between them. No barriers.

But they still had to wear their own clothes. That was where Eddie drew the line when it came to sharing their lives. It was an arbitrary line, to be sure, but it was one to which he held firm. As predicted, Buck was quick to respect the line and stick mostly to his own wardrobe. When he asked to borrow a dress shirt or shorts, he made a habit of coming up behind Eddie and wrapping his arms around his middle, gently murmuring his clothing request in Eddie’s ear like a salacious secret. Was it a dirty move? Absolutely. Did Eddie cave every single time? Without a doubt. Did he respect that his boyfriend exploited his weaknesses? Somehow, it made him love him more. He also respected that Buck didn’t abuse his super power for every clothing item. He accepted Eddie’s distaste for ill-fitting clothing and always turned to his wardrobe first.

Miraculously, many of Buck’s clothes started getting thrown in the donation hamper – almost as though he hadn’t worn them in months or years and no longer had need of them. Soon enough, their wardrobe had evened out and Eddie could actually mark the distinction between his and Buck’s side of the dresser.

Suddenly he could breathe again.

“It wasn’t about the clothes.” Eddie informed him one night as they lay in bed.

Of course, Buck propped up on his elbows to face Eddie despite the darkness. “What wasn’t?”

“The clothes borrowing thing.”

“The clothes borrowing things wasn’t about the clothes?” It was understandable to hear confusion in his voice.

“I brought it up to Frank the other day. And we talked about why it bothered me so much.”

“You said that I was stretching out your clothes (which I’m choosing to take as a compliment, by the way).” As a show of comfort, Eddie ran a hand under the sleeve of Buck’s night shirt, only to laugh when his boyfriend pulled away a moment later. “Why are your hands always so cold?”

“Not all of us are a furnace.” He gently reminded, knowing it would go completely unmarked by the human stove. “And while I am definitely not a fan of you stretching my shirts, it wasn’t actually about that.” One thing he loved about Buck from long before their romance began, was his ability to wait for Eddie to gather the courage to continue speaking. He rarely prompted or interjected when time stretched between them; he gave Eddie the space to find the words.

“It felt like I was losing a part of myself when I saw you in my clothes.” Surely, he could find more words than that. “When I look around this room – when I look around the house – I see us. I see you and Christopher making a pillow fort even though I told you not to take the cushions off the couch. I see me and my son trying to bake a cake for your birthday and actually making one that was edible.”

“Well”

“Are you going to tell Christopher that you hated the cake he made you?”

It was a cheap shot but it hit its mark every single time. “Wow.”

“I see you and me getting ready in the bathroom the first time I told you I loved you.”

It was one of his fondest memories, and one he would treasure forever; the day he’d been brushing his teeth beside Buck, staring at the man who’d come to mean so much to him, and the words tumbled out (along with a glob of foam) before he’d realized how true they were.

“We are all over this house and I love that. But my clothes? They were this thing that was just mine – one little thing I didn’t have to share. And when you took them without asking, it was like you were taking more than just my shirt. If that makes sense.” Clearly, he was out of practice with this sort of discussion (and he ever had this sort of discussion?) because the rambling was making him lightheaded.

“It does.” He could feel his boyfriend shift in the moonlight to something less than a hover, relaxing onto his shoulder so they both faced the ceiling but still felt connected to each other. “And I never meant to make you feel that way. I guess it was that cliched thing where I like smelling like you and having a piece of you with me all the time.” Eddie willed his beating heart to calm.

“Buck, we live and work together, how are you not sick of having me around?”

Another wonderful thing about dating Buck was his newfound ability to feel his eyes on him from across the room. Even in the middle of an emergency, he could look up and find Buck and know what they needed to do. When he was at his side, the stare was overwhelming.

“I will never get sick of you.” Buck’s voice was filled with more emotion than Eddie had words to describe and yet he knew exactly how he felt. “But I won’t wear your clothes anymore.”

His instinct was to protest, to concede to Buck and let him have whatever would make him happy. It had been his instinct for most of his life: make sacrifices so his loved ones would be happy.

You are allowed to have what you want. Buck will still be happy.

He found Buck’s lips in the darkness. “Thank you.”

The scene was a mess. One kitchen fire had spread to several houses before emergency services were even called – Buck admired that the neighbours had all tried to deal with the problem themselves; Eddie thought they were idiots for trying to douse the grease fire with water and then continue to pour water when the flames grew higher. It was a simple enough task to put out the flames and get everyone to safety but it left foam and shivering bodies and bits of debris scattered from the lawn to the street. The cleanup took longer than the rescue, completely unaided by the mid-day son beating down on the scene, melting both foam and firefighter with equal measure.

Mercifully, Bobby was the first to remove his jacket and throw it on the pavement so he could work with more ease, leading the way for his crew to strip off their heavy turnout gear and throw it in a pile. While their equipment wasn’t any less boiling to the touch, they were at least given this small reprieve while they continued to work.

And if Buck and Eddie were separately caught distractedly watching their boyfriend work in their form-fitting pants and sweat-soaked shirts, that was an added bonus of just doing their job.

Once they were finally in a position to leave (after doling a few lectures and congratulations to the civilians who’d tried really hard and only made things worse), the crew grabbed their coats from the pile and headed back to the trucks. Eddie would never admit it, but sometimes, he was distracted by the mere sight of Buck. The blond was teased constantly for his so-called ‘heart eyes’ whenever he thought no one was looking, but Eddie knew he was just as bad. It was difficult not to – considering his partner’s attractive physical features – but even to admire Buck’s enthusiasm and heart were unavoidable when he let himself enjoy a moment of peace.

Life since they’d begun their romance had been calm in a way Eddie never imagined his life to be – because there never really was a moment of calm, and yet it was the most serene he’d felt in a very long time. Every day was an adrenaline rush of emergency calls and worrying for his son. He still awoke with nightmares of the past and future reminding him that every one of his failings had consequences. His wounds still ached in the daylight and his life was constantly in peril. He still stumbled over milestones when it came to raising Christopher without the mother of his child, and no amount of forgiveness could completely erase the shame he felt in asking for help. But through it all, through every loss and victory both at work and at home, he didn’t feel alone. He had a partner in all things who loved his son and tried every day to be there for the two of them.

He wished he could say he wasn’t surprised at how well Buck fit into their domestic lives but it had never occurred to him to imagine it until he was asking his boyfriend of six months to move into his home because so many of his things were there anyways. The first morning he awoke to fresh coffee and the smoke alarm screeching in his ear, it somehow sealed his fate: he and Buck fit comically well together.

And the man knew him in a way no one had (not his wife, not parents, not any friend he’d ever had). He liked to think he knew Buck just as well but he enjoyed every time that he discovered something new about his partner. It sent a shiver of delight through his bones when he realized that he never wanted to stop learning about this man who made him feel happy.

He did, however, need to talk to Bobby about ordering a new jacket because his current one was much too big, especially in the shoulder area. Which was odd because he didn’t remember having that problem earlier. Of course, Eddie rolled his eyes, he must have grabbed the wrong coat – probably Buck’s – which would explain his sudden lack of stature. As he swung the offending item off his back, he searched for his partner in order to toss the coat in his face (as one does when one is hopelessly in love with a dork), only to stop short when he finally caught sight of him.

Whether by accident or design, Buck had grabbed Eddie’s coat and was proudly wearing it as he went about his normal duties, completely unaware that the sleeves were just a little too short, and the back was stretched a little too tightly. In fact, it was stretched taut in a manner that displayed the LAFD logo and bright stripes for all to see; and right underneath was Eddie’s last name. Four letters he’d seen all his life were suddenly given a different meaning.

‘Diaz’ had never been just his, it has always been something he shared: first with his family, and then Shannon, and then to Christopher the moment he held his son in his arms. He had been lectured by May once about the concept of ownership and the woman having to take the husband’s last name as though she belonged to him. He was well away of the history of name changes in marriages and significance in contemporary society of couples choosing different ways to express their commitment to one another. Call him old fashioned – and he knew that he was – but he had never seen Shannon taking his last name as a symbol of ownership; to Eddie, it meant that they were a family. A clan. Together in all things. There was a sense of pride in knowing that his name would live on when he was gone and that he was able to share this thing with the people he cared for most.

As if it were nothing at all, there was Buck, walking around in public with the name Diaz on display. Anyone who didn’t know them might believe that was his name. What would Buck say if a stranger called him ‘Mr. Diaz’ or ‘Firefighter Diaz’? Would he blush and smile, would he vehemently correct them, would he brush it off but realize he didn’t want to be associated with that name ever again?

Did he want that? Did he want Buck associated with his last name? There was no guarantee when they got married that either of them would change their names. Maybe, they could hyphenate.

When they got married.

Eddie didn’t ask for his jacket back.

Later, when someone asked him how dinner went, Eddie would have no earthly idea what they even ordered. He remembered confirming with Buck that they had reservations for their anniversary dinner, he remembered Hen picking up Christopher for his overnight playdate, he remembered kissing Buck against the bathroom door when he emerged in his dress shirt and tie, he remembered driving to the restaurant too afraid to hold his boyfriend’s hand because his palms were suspiciously clammy.

It was just a dinner at a nicer restaurant to celebrate their anniversary together. They’d had one of these already and a million dates in between. Yet it sent his heart racing every time. Not only was he a fan of Buck when he dressed to the nines (he loved that man in everything and nothing, but the tight dress pants were a treat) but it was also a celebration of their time together. Of how far they’d come as a couple and as individuals. Going out in public came with a small amount of anxiety and guilt, of course, but they’d worked through every setback as partners and would continue to do so.

On their first official date, Eddie had called Buck at 3am to inform him that they could never see each other again because he was betraying his wife’s memory by moving on. Another time, they had run into one of Buck’s previous conquests who was alarmingly cavalier about their sex history but incredibly judgmental about Buck’s current situation. Introducing Buck to his parents was more than a little nerve-racking (though significantly better than meeting the Buckleys for the first time) but had turned out amiably enough when they saw how much Eddie and Christopher cared for the man – and more importantly, how much Buck cared about Christopher.

Christopher had been his saving grace in so many ways, not the least of which was figuring out how to introduce Buck at school functions. ‘Boyfriends’ was the term they used most often but it still felt juvenile whenever he said it out loud. ‘Lover’ had made both of them double over in laughter, and ‘special friend’ was off the table before it had left his mouth. Though he’d never said it out loud, Eddie was saying the term ‘Partner’ for a special occasion.

The first time Eddie had brought Buck to the afterschool pick up so his teachers could meet the other adult with special permission to care for Christopher, he’d stressed to the point of tearing a small hole in the steering wheel cover about what to call him.

And then Christopher had run into his best friend’s arms and introduced everyone to ‘His Buck’ as though that name was the only explanation anyone needed. But it did the trick. Everyone greeted him with kindness and respect and when one of the teachers asked Eddie if this was, indeed, ‘His Buck’, all he’d been able to do was blush and nod.

They’d overcome every little thing that life had thrown their way. They could get through one little dinner.

“You have been fidgety all night.” Buck teased through another mouthful of garlic bread. Or maybe they couldn’t. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing is up with me.” He lied. “I’m just tired. Long shift.”

“Boring shift. Four false alarms, seven car accidents, and one heart attack. I would have killed for a house fire or even someone stuck in a tree.”

“How would they have gotten stuck in a tree?”

Buck shrugged, stuffing another loaf into his mouth. “Maybe they were skydiving but the wind picked up and they got carried away.”

They continued their hypothetical discussion (which turned to the topic of craziest saves, most disgusting encounters, and most obvious lies) until their shared appetizer arrived and he realized how at ease he felt despite his earlier tension. That was another miraculous thing about being with Buck. Without meaning to – for he did it far too often to be intentional – he could pull Eddie from whatever wave was threatening to pull him under and keep him company by just being himself. They would talk and laugh and find companionship with one another until suddenly, the waves had subsided.

“Where’s my phone?” Buck patted his entire body, despite only possessing two pockets in which he could fit his cell. Upon finding nothing, he concluded “I must have left it in the truck, I’m just going to go grab it.”

When Buck reached for Eddie’s jacket pocket, knowing the keys were always in the right, Eddie felt a new wave of panic suddenly submerge him and he shouted “Don’t touch that!” too loudly for anyone at the adjoining tables to misunderstand him.

The way his boyfriend instantly paled, told him that no one had misunderstood his harsh reaction. Buck released the jacket, letting it fall to the ground, but hesitated to grab it. A thousand curses and warning bells echoed through Eddie’s mind, knowing full well how far his partner’s mind could travel down a dangerous path before he ever reached him.

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” he sputtered. “I know we talked about the clothes thing, I just forgot.” Only then did he finally reach a hand to take the jacket on the tasteless restaurant carpet. “Can I grab-”

“No.” He snatched the offending object before Buck could finish his sentence; flinging it away with such force that the contents of his pockets spilt onto the floor. Another curse barely left his lips before both men were on their hands and knees, scrambling to retrieve the objects.

Buck found it first.

“What’s this?”

Eddie froze with a hand on his keys, eyes locked on his partner – his best friend – holding the small velvet box that had once been housed in his jacket pocket. Abandoning all else, Eddie crawled to meet Buck beside the table. He breathlessly watched the other man examine the box, feeling the edges with sharp anticipation

A voice that wasn’t his own whispered in the space between them “open it.” With medical gentility, Buck pulled open the lid and Eddie watched his expressions shift as understanding took hold.

He’d been so careful, to the point of paranoia, about picking out the perfect ring. There had been incognito browser searches, late-night chats with Hen about same-sex protocol (for which he repaid her with many cups of espresso), and one very anxious expedition to the jewelers to find the perfect one. And right at the finish line, he fumbled over his own two feet.

The only memory that mattered, though, was the look in Buck’s eyes when he saw the ring and realized what it symbolized to both of them. What Eddie was asking for wasn’t marriage: it was everything. A life of sharing their darkest selves and celebrating every triumph. Being both an individual and a pair in equal measure – partners in every sense. Respect and trust and joy would become home, security would be a given; everything was asked with that circle bonding them together.

“I’m sorry for grabbing your jacket.” Buck whispered when he finally looked away from the box in his shaking hands. The laugh that escaped Eddie was barely more than a cry of barely restrained tears but it brought a smile to both their faces.

“It’s okay.” Neither could look away now that they’d found each other in the silence. “Do you like it?”

“It’s nice. Did Maddie help you pick it out?”

“She offered when I went to ask for her blessing but this was all me.”

“You asked for her blessing? How traditional.”

“I’m a traditional kind of guy.”

“I know. Sophia told me what you did to her first boyfriend.”

“It was only meant to scare the guy. How was I to know he had asthma?”

“He was 15, you shouldn’t have done it anyway. I think it might be illegal now.”

“Oh my god.” Both men looked up at the waitress standing over them with their food in hand. “Will you ask him already?” A few chuckles from curious onlookers reminded them that they were still kneeling in the middle of a restaurant with Buck holding the ring he wasn’t meant to see yet.

The blush that crept on his partner’s face matched his own, but Eddie’s only focus was on fulfilling the server’s request.

“Marry me, Buck?”

His smile outshone the entire city of Los Angeles.

“Yes.”

As cheers erupted around them, Eddie scooted across the carpet to pull his fiancé into a kiss saturated with joy and laughter. His hands fairly shook as they clasped Buck’s cheeks to hold them steady but nothing else matter to him but that smile.

Slipping the engagement band onto his finger was prolonged by the trembling in both their hands but with time, he stared down at the circle, knowing it was finally where it belonged.

He only realized he had stared for too long when the waitress cleared her throat to grab their attention.

“If you folks wouldn’t mind taking your seats; these plates are kinda hot.” The men scrambled back into their booth, offering copious apologies to the woman who simply rolled her eyes and told them that dessert would be on the house. A handful of patrons offered their congratulations but Eddie rarely turned his attention away from the man across from him. Every time their eyes met for the rest of the night, he could feel the dopey-eyed grin that refused to melt away. He hoped it never did.

The evening had not gone the way he’d planned in any shape of the word but for years to come, he would relish in telling the story of their engagement, and of the full lives they shared together.

#cj writes things #softboiidiaz #love sunny #buddie #buddie fic #911 fox #911 fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #established relationship #clothes sharing

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staycult · 4 years ago

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highschool!minho as your boyfriend

pairing — fem!reader x minho

genre — fluffish angst-ish ? bullet scenario but mostly not, enemies to lovers

word count — 2k

happy birthday to our precious cat boy! 🐈

happy birthday lino!

you’re one of the best dancers in your school

competitions arent complete without you

i guess the popularity with dancing got over your head a little bit

to you, you were just proud

but others took it the wrong way, as per usual

“alright we’re going to have a new member in our crew, please give him a warm welcome!” your dance instructor clapped

you wiped off your sweat and sat down on the floor to listen further

“come in, lino!” she urged

the young man came in wearing gray sweats and a plain black shirt with a poker face on

you didnt really care nor felt a bond forming between you two

“hi, lee minho, nice to meet you” he smiled half heartedly

you heard the other girls in the room swoon at the sight of him

you were about to nudge your friend who was obviously squealing when the instructor interrupted

“[y/n]! stand over here, please” she pointed beside minho

so you complied

his scent was manly with a hint of softness

he was taller than you and had a lean body structure

your instructor was eyeing the both of you from head to toe and proceeded to call over another instructor

“see, they would be perfect for it!” she whisper shouted at her fellow instructor, still eyeing the both of us

“i do agree with you but dont you think minho is still new? he just came in” the other replied

“minho if you don’t mind? can i show him your audition video?” she asked

minho gave her a nod while he looked around the place with his arms crossed, while you looked like an idiot just standing there like 🧍🏻‍♀️

“wow! his body is flexible, you made the right choice with these two" the male instructor commended

“right?"

"alright, you two would be assigned to create a new choreography for the up coming dance competition. it should be hip hop styled, music of choice is yours." she instructed

your fellow dancers already went home since it was getting late, so you did too after the discussion

you didnt really talk to minho

you felt like you didnt need to, yet

unless it was about the dance

practices were always held after classes. you and the crew decided to brainstorm possible songs that you guys could dance to. all of the songs they were suggesting was boring and at this point you were frustrated and threw a fit. "god, think!" you sighed at your fellow dancers as you ruffled your hair in anger. "do you have any better ideas?" minho asked, nonchalant. "i evaluate whether or not the songs can be used. do you have any ideas?" you rolled your eyes, copying his tone.

he shook head and let out a light smirk, a rather amused one. he suggested songs and remixes that were actually good, but you can never say that. for the first time, someone actually had the courage to speak back to you during your angry state. it did hurt your ego a bit.

"no, i dont want that, it's ear-bleeding" you lied, just for the sake of your reputation in front of your fellow members. "im not asking for your permission, im showing this to noona," he said getting up from the floor with the computer and walked out to find our older instructor.

whispers and held back laughter was heard in the room while their eyes are focused to either you, or minho's back who just disappeared

being a little brat, you stomped over to minho ( who you found in the hallway, just outside your instructor's office ) "you!" you stormed over until youre close enough. without looking, he let out a sigh, "what?"

"what the hell was that about!" you half-shouted, eyebrows furrowed. "what? did i hurt your ego?" he raised an eyebrow, giving you a smirk. you were taken aback by his choice of words. no body has ever came this close to you. all he did was say the truth, because he really did hurt your ego. you hate being told what to do and you hate getting embarrassed in front of people.

your face turned red, "you know what? fuck you" you turned around and left. leaving him with this annoying smug look on his pretty face.

it became a routine

to argue with him during practice

you guys were partners in the said dance

being close with his body gives you the chance to take revenge

by making yourself heavy every time he has to carry you

but you learned that he's not the one to hold back

by letting go of you, causing you to fall off ass first

after a month straight of practice, it went like that

safe to say you hated each other's guts

he hated your bratty and egotistic attitude, and you hated him for pointing it out in front of every one

there's 3 more days until the performance

and somehow, nervousness was getting ahead of you.

"one last practice for today! let me see what you guys got." your instructor said as you guys were positioning yourselves in place. during the dance, you knew you made so many mistakes but you were still hoping it would go unnoticed. making the ending pose, every one clapped as well as the instructor.

"over all, it's a winning dance for me!" every one cheered for the mentor's compliment while you were feeling unsteady. "[y/n], work on the dance a little more okay? you seem a bit on edge" she gave you a small smile. embarrassment was written all over your face. improve? me? christ! it's much worse when minho, who is right beside you, heard that.

the instructor left and every one proceeded to pack their things. as you were about to close yours, "work on the dance a little more okay?" little shit minho repeated your instructors words, with a smug look on his face that you badly want to wipe off with a punch

"okay" you replied dryly, not wanting to engage with crap because of your rising nervousness. "looks like im about to take your place, brat" he added. you knew he was just messing around since both of you had been fighting like this almost every day. you gave him a nod because you just wanted to escape at this point. you placed your bag over your shoulder and opened the door, "don't you think maybe it's because you're not that good-"

"can we not do this right now? alright? i get it. if you really are so fucking great, congrats! now leave me alone." you spat, walking past him and left the studio. the sun was setting when you got out and it was a rather chill weather. it was fine, we're in the middle of october any way.

you sighed as you hugged yourself for comfort due to the strong wind. walking home, you decided to stop by a vending machine.

great! your money just had to be stuck in the vent. just when you thought your day could get worse, this happens. you placed your head on the glass of the machine in front of you while mindlessly playing with the buttons.

you regret losing your cool in front of minho like that, because you know he was just messing around. at some point during practice, you were slowly learning that being a brat is horrible and not everything will go my way.

you noticed that you were starting to change too.

you let out another sigh and kicked a foreign rock to express your frustration. you eyes went back to the stuck money and tried to get it out again. a random finger from behind pressed a red button on top of the machine, which immediately retrieved your money.

you turned back around to thank the person, "thank you-" your smile faded when you realized who it was. he had a small cat eye smile on, "hi" he said in a low tone, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"hi" you said rather awkwardly. "what drink do you want?" he said as he brought out his wallet, positioning himself in front of the machine. "no you don't have to" you protested. "please, let me do this, it's the least i can do for pissing you off"

"banana milk, and im sorry too" you replied, playing with your fingers. he gave you this 'why are you saying sorry' look. "im sorry for all the mean stuff i said back there, i dont know what has gotten into me, im just so nervous about the performance"

he nodded, implying that he's listening while typing and inserting the money on the machine. "im just sorry for being a brat in general," you smiled apologetically as you accepted the banana milk from him. both of you sat down beside the vending machine.

"you dont have to apologize you know? im the one who took it too far" he said, guilt plastered all over his face. "it's fine, i deserve it. besides if it wasnt for you, i wouldnt have notice how much of a bitch i am." you admitted with a light chuckle.

"i didnt mean what i said earlier by the way," he spoke, finishing up his own banana milk. "which one?" you asked. "when i said you were not that good, i didnt mean it. in fact, youre one of the best." he admitted, placing his empty banana milk beside him.

"you think so?" you asked with a smile. "i know so" he smiled back, removing his hairband and placing it back again. "maybe that's why im falling for you." he mumbled.

competition day came

you were feeling energetic today

bratiness level lowered down by 70%

the performance went really great

every one at your school was rooting for your team

which made you even more giddy

"and the grand champion for this year is..."

you heard your school's name and immediately hugged minho unintentionally out of joy

your legs were wrapped up in his waist and he was swinging you around, happy to win as well.

he let go of you gently, trying not to make things awkward

youve already touched his body due to the dance steps but it felt awkward after he confessed

after the celebration, your crew was in the back stage, preparing for the surprise

today is october 25, meaning it's his special day

you got out the cake you personally baked for him and motioned everyone to gather around before minho comes in

"surprise!" every one cheered and threw random pieces of paper towards him when he came in the back stage

"happy birthday to you! happy birthday to you! happy birthday dear minho, happy birthday to you" you sang along with the crew and faced him his cake

"make a wish, lino" you said as you waited for him to blow.

"i wish to be with you" he said out loud, not even minding the people around us and blew the candle out. a lot of ooos and cheers were heard, making you blush. you gathered frosting all over your finger and proceeded to wipe it on his face

he let out a fake shocked face as he did the same to you. by now, every one around you has frosting in your faces. musting up all the courage left in you. you made your way to minho once more and placed a frosting on his lips. he smirked at your sudden action as he lifted you up.

you pressed your lips against his, licking the frosting clean off of him. he gladly accepted the kiss, ignoring everyone around the both of you. pulling away, "maybe i am falling for you too, lino" you confessed. making him kiss you once more.

bf minho is very tsundere

as usual, dance practices together

vending machine dates after practice

lots and lots of i love yous while dancing

SLOW DANCING IN YOUR ROOM!!!!!!

would let you meet his cats bcs "you are now worthy"

helping each other out with missed assignments

your best friend

kisses are wild but soft

dance covers together

will literally break the vending machine to give you your banana milk

would buy you breakfast

holds your hand during break

cuddling with his cats!!!!!!

forehead kisses with reassurance

people dont get your inside jokes

a tease !!!!!

"baby, there is no one else like you"

author's note —

i tried to make this gender neutral but i dont know much about mxm dancing together! sorry about that, i tried to lessen the female details though.

im open for constructive criticism! i made this a birthday special for our lee know <3

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elenajohansenreads · 3 years ago

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Books I Read in 2021

#84 - The Glittering Court, by Richelle Mead

Mount TBR: 70/100

Rating: 1/5 stars

What did I like about this? It was digestible. Having just come off a heavy, plodding, disappointing fantasy read, the easy YA tell-don't-show narrative style went down smooth like a slushie on a hot day.

And that's the best thing I can say about the whole book--it read fast and easy.

What didn't I like?

1. The fact that this touts itself as fantasy when it's not in the least bit fantastical. I don't require my fantasy to have magic or creatures or zombies or anything, but if you're going to call something "fantasy" it should at least be about fictional cultures that the author has invented. This is just England colonizing the Americas with the names changed. The only thing that could be said to be "fantasy" is that the population they're displacing in the process isn't an indigenous one, it was established by previous outcasts from their own country--though that wasn't clear to me until the first time we met them and they were white, blond, and used woad as decoration. So they're not supposed to be Native American analogues, they're supposed to be displaced Picts?

2. Either way, it's still racist and pro-colonization, because even if the Icori aren't meant to represent an indigenous people, they're still clearly Other, and constantly labeled as "savages" in order to justify taking their land, which all of our protagonists are participating in, in some form. Does it matter what color this fictional group of people is, if the narrative is parroting real history and real racism?

3. The second half of the plot feels, at best, tenuously related to the first half. The change in fortune for our protagonists that happens at the midpoint struck me as so flimsy and unbelievable that it was hard to take the rest of the book seriously, and that made it more obvious to me who the real villain was, despite whatever weak red herrings were planted along the way. Seriously--the first half of the story is The Bridgertons but the second turns into Little House on the Prairie. It's too big a genre shift to make the transition seem natural.

4. There were times when I was approaching a reasonable level of sympathy for our heroine, despite her many flaws, but every time the story had a chance to explore those flaws and perhaps let the character do some work on them...well, she just kept being headstrong and selfish and whiny, right up until the LHotP section where after a single pep talk from the hero, she's completely changed, resolved to her new station in life with a determination that seemed half-delusional and certainly out of character. She didn't work for it, so it didn't seem real.

5. I did not know, having picked up this book in isolation, that the rest of the "series" is actually the same time period from the perspective of one of the other girls, specifically the two best friends of the heroine. Now that I do know that, the giant blank spaces in this story where Mira and Tamsin constantly fall out of it without explanation--or with the pointedly obvious lampshade "it's not my business so I'm not going to ask"--make sense structurally. However, that doesn't mean I don't think it's a terrible flaw, because these holes are constant and irritating. For a while in the middle of the book, it felt like every time I turned two pages, the heroine was asking out loud, "Where's Mira?" And pretty quickly I knew that question wouldn't be answered in this book, so why keep asking?

6. I never found Cedric compelling enough a hero to justify the constant sacrifices that Adelaide made for him. I don't think he's a terrible character, and I enjoyed some of their banter and their occasional fights, but I'm also not about to add him to my book-boyfriend list, so it was hard to imagine myself, or anyone for that matter, doing as much for him as Adelaide did.

7. Religion. Woooo boy. I guess this part is the "fantasy" I was lamenting the lack of earlier, because if the accepted and heretic forms of this fictional religion are supposed to correspond to real-world counterparts, I didn't pick up on it with enough certainty to tell. But my problem is that it's suddenly a Very Big Deal that one character is a heretic, when religion had played such a small part in the story leading up to that revelation that I was mostly operating on the assumption that the main religion was socially performative, and that no one in the story was especially devout. Adelaide certainly doesn't seem to be. But since this heresy becomes central to the conflict later on, I wish it had been better established in the beginning, because (again) the second half of the book seems wildly different than the first, and this was another aspect that made it hard to take seriously.

8. Heteronormative AF. There's one token queer person who has a minor role, showing up just long enough for Adelaide to realize other women/cultures don't abide by her society's rigid norms and to feel briefly uncomfortable about it. But there's no follow-up, no depth, no opportunity for Adelaide to grow beyond what she's been taught. To some extent, I'm okay with that--not every story has room for fighting LGBT+ battles, and even more simply put, stories are allowed to be about other things. But parading just that one wlw character out for a moment, and making her a foreigner to reinforce her otherness, strikes me as a really poor choice if the story didn't actually want to fight that battle. Why bring it up at all? Especially as this is supposed to be fantasy, why couldn't the Glittering Court be an institution that provides marriage candidates to both men and women? If the candidate pool was both male and female, and so was the clientele, then many forms of queerness would be covered by it without having to dig into specifics about each character. (It doesn't directly address ace/aro people, but presumably they'd be less interested in a marriage mart anyway, on either side, and self-select out of it.) I mean, I know why, because that would mean that in the New World there would have to be women in positions of power who needed husbands (or wives, yes, but this wrinkle is about men.) And there's no shortage of men in the colonies, so that doesn't track logically the same way the actual setup does. But again, if this is supposed to be fantasy....

#booklr #book review #the glittering court #richelle mead #book photography #my photos #my reading challenges #mount tbr 2021

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Green Eggs and Ham: Here (Patreon Review for Emma Ficci)

Hello all you happy people! And I have my first fully paid for comission and patreon review all in one! Yes my good friend Emma became a patreon and you can too, go to patreon.com/popculturebuffet. Even one buck a month helps and 5 a month nets you a review of whatever of your choice a month. An episode of any tv show I have acess to. It feels good to have more than one person paying my salary, though I sitll want to thank Kev, my other patreon for helping with that.

So with that all in order, let’s talk about this thoroughly weird, thoroughly wonderful show from a couple years back. Green Eggs and Ham is modern adaptation of a Dr. Seuss book..... and I bet those of you who haven’t heard of this series before or it’s reputation just had your bowls clinch a bit. Yeah while I haven’t seen illumination’s takes on the maestro of children’s books, I haven’t heard the best things and the trailers and odd and counter productive marketing tie ins for the Lorax have made me want to stay 30 feet away from it at all times. Seriously you get certified Legend Danny DeVito.. and you waste him on “Dat’s a woman” a joke that I don’t have time to unpack all the ways it sucks. My point is Seuss really hasn’t had the best time with adaptations latey. But leave it to Warner Animation and Netflix to pull out a great one. Yeah I wasn’t too excited about a tv adaptation of one book at first due to all this and even a celebrity cast wasn’t a good sign. They roped Danny DeVito into the Lorax. So even with a whopper cast containing Michael Douglas, Diane Keaton, my boy Adam Divine, Ilana Glazer, Kegan Michael Key, Jeffery Wright, Eddie Izard and JIllian Bell.. I wasn’t convinced. But word of mouth was really good, and the animation looked downright gorgeous, perfectly mimicking suess’ work and feeling like an unabashed love letter.

So I did what I tend to do.. and sat on it for several years because I simply forgot to watch it till my friend comissioned it and here we are. And off the bat.. the reputation.. is not remotely overblown. This is easily the best Dr. Seuss adaptation i’ve seen in some time taking the best of his ideas and whimsy, with what little behind the scenes stuff I could get saying they specifically took art design from his art of book, with a modern and intresting story behind it and an all star cast that this time around are used well instead of just being there for Name Recogntion. Not only that but it takes inspriation form, of all things, Planes Trains and Automobiles, but does so well so far, getting the oddcouple dynamic down perfectly.

So join me under the cut as I cut this bit of green eggs and ham into bite sized pieces for you all and go into why it’s so delecitable.

This episode’s mostly broken up into bits to introduce all the main players, so as I tend to do when there’s multiple plots, I will be covering each one at a time.

Guy and Sam: The Failed Inventor and the Animal Thief

So our story begins with.. a ninja breaking into a zoo to steal the rare Chikaraffe.

Neither was the narrator, played by Key.. and the narrator naturally for a work like this delightfully interacts with things and is one of the best parts of the whole episode. But this already shows how well the series updates things. There’s one or two things like Ninja Sam or a family making ducklips during a photo, there’s even a fairly obvious trump stand in we’ll get to.. but none of it’s SO overdone it takes you out of things or dates the projects. The tech is kept to about the 70′s or 80′s with cameras still used instead of camera phones, crt tv’s, and what have you, and most inventions seens are susian. It feels wholly in line with his books while still nudging it into our current decade here and there. In other words.. how you SHOULD do it: add in a few things here or there but no overt pop culture refrences and at most a take that at something Seuss would gladly take aim at.

So we meet our other hero the next day, Guy-Am-I. Guy is the show’s version of the nameless harassment victim from the books, with a bit of a darker fur and hat, likely to help better distingish him from sam as well as sell him being older than his co-star. It’s a good change, and helps sell Guy as what he is.. a grumpy middle aged man who keeps failling in life as demonstrated by his way to the inventions: he falls in a puddle, signs no on a pettition because he’s in a hurry, reminds me of man in a hurry from hatchefield but I couldn’t find a good image of him saying that in time and takes a picture of the family “Say runing my life” “ruining your life!”. We later see after some of the following scenes Sam do the same.. but he hops over the puddle then dives ino for fun, signs an entire page of the pettition, and takes tons of pictures. It’s a nice establishing scene for both.

Guy is presenting his invention for Snerzco, your standard megacorp given a delightful Seuss twist with LITERAL pencil pushers and beancounters, to present his invention, with other inventors presenting, witht he hopes of presenting to Snerzz himself, having such delightfully bonkers and seussian inventions as a reverse umbrella (it rains on you) and an automatic fingercrosser. It’s touches like this that really tell me the series really loves Dr. Seuss.

Sadly things don’t go well for guy as he’s hoping his invention dosen’t explode, his invention being a backpack made of hands to help people fly. Most people are imprestted apart from Michelle a bean counter who.. randomly snarks she wouldn’t let her daughter fly on it.

Yeah it’s not a great introduction for one of your major characters to have her randomly mock something that hadn’t exploded yet, and to for no reason bring up what a paranoid and unfun parent she is. We’ll get to her more in a bit. But yes it does explode and Guy’s dreams are ruined.

And this whole picture.. shows who guy is. He’s someone whose kept trying agian, and again and again only for it not to work, and to get laughed at by the public and spat on by god themslef. It’s easy to see WHY he’s such a bitter curmudgeon: life hates him, so why shouldn’t he hate it back. That’s a self defeating prophecy of course but this is episode one and tha’ts probably the point of the series: to explore this. That being said I could see this coming from a mile away and felt it to be the most unupsired bit of the episode.

Guy enters a diner to get some Oatmush “The Sadmans Special” after the bus leaves before he can get to it because again, God hates him personally. No the sadman’s special is a famous bowl from KFC. I should know as a professional sadman. Regardless Guy is miserable.. and in enters sam, whose fascenated their “Breifcase Buddies” because thier briefcases match.. and unlike the above I like how they call attention to them being identical. We know wha’ts going to happen there but the lampshading helps it go down easier and makes us wonder if they will swap. Sam is a regular, being friends with Donna the waitress and ordering his usual green eggs and ham.

So we get the expected bit: Sam asks Guy to try them, he says no, but the show makes a good choice. Instead of just.. stalking guy for the next 11 episodes to get him to try it.. he simply asks if he’s actually tried it, Guy says no and makes a great poop joke, and Sam leaves it. He apparently asks once an episode, but it’s made more into a character thing; Guy refuses because he hates to try new things outside of his inventing and that’s hit a wall. It’s also a nice suprise that Devine and Douglas just play perfectly off one another. The two are from vastly diffrent generations and backgrounds acting wise, but they just work perfectly together and it’s what makes their interactions work.

Sam does leave it and the other inventors having ALL got the golden ticket, arrive and Sam treats them.. only to notice Guy’s paper and the fact guy failed, and asks donna politely to get guy his mush as he ordered first. It’s good setup for Sam. We saw him be nice and free and what not, but we also see that while he can be insietive (He asked guy what broken dream he had earlier in the scene) he does geniunely care and it isn’t just surface level. He loves people and helping them and getting to know them.

Of course while Guy is greatful, showing that beneath his own exterior he’s not a bad guy just one made miserable by life, he’s not going to be best friends or anything.. that’s a lot to ask they just met and takes his case after gulping down his oatmush.

That night Sam prepares to leave, having given Donna his adress.. multiple times. in the hopes someone comes over and hangs out. Can relate even if i’d never go that far. He does however reveal himself as the ninja and prepare to take the chikaraffe with him for whatever reason.

Guy goes to his hotel room to sulk, not helped by the other inventors partying outside, and full of misery and self loathing throws his suitcase in the fire.. until it makes a noise. He quickly pulls it out to find the Chickaraffe. Will he surivive? I mean probably. We have 12 episodes left. And a full second season. God this is going to take a few years.. regardless, let’s move onto the subplots.

MIchellee and E.B.

We meet Michelle’s daughter EB who just wants to live but her mom dosen’t let her have toys or shenaniagnas.. and comes off untetionally as really abusive. She’s SUPPOSED to be overprotective, but saying “I detect a hint of whimsy.. i’ll allow it” really just paints you as an overcontrolling psycho. Their headed on a trip and while EB wants to catch the chickaraffe for herself dosen’t have the time and her mom gives her a magnetic friendship bracelet.. that shackes her to her. Just... yeah Michelle has made me hate her in one episode and she’s played by Diane Keaton. How do you do that? Hopefully she’ll get better but hearing about these two characters was part of the reason I procastinated so long. The other is my brain being kind of a forgetful swamp.

Snerz: We meet Snerz himself who has someone bringing him the chickaraffe. Snerz is a cold, mean man with trump hair.. that in this case is a literal being he’s forcing to be his hair, has everything gold plated and keeps animals in a wall forcing them to stand on the other side and put their heads through like he mounted them because he’s a sociopath. And this is the refrence I meant. Snerz has many comparisons to trump, the hair, the gold platings, but it dosen’t really date the thing as Trump has been around since long before this and will sadly probably be around till his inetivitible jail sentence. But it’s not so overt or over the top that it takes you out of it it works. Okay one more.

BAD GUYS:

Two mysterious agents, one old and one on her first mission, go to the zoo and interogate the guy running it holding him over a slapping turtle exhbit. Their after the chickaraffe and depart.. with the yougner agent accidently dropping him. Whoops. At least he gets to get hit into space by a turtle. Some of us never will “Sigh”

Final Thoughts:

This was an excellent first episode. It fleshes out the characters well, sets up the story without feeling too slow, and the show strkes the right ballance of being it’s own thing while still feeling Seuss. It’s a wubusoully wonderful good time and I recommend checking it out. I look forward to the rest of the series over the next year.

Next on this blog: Sleepover time as Shadow into Light, my Lena Saberwing retrospective resumes.

#green eggs and ham #sam-i-am #guy-am-i #michelle #e.b.#snertz #dr seuss #netflix

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kisskissbanggang · 4 years ago

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The Sabotage of Simkung House pt. 5 — The Finale

[Stray Kids Multi Fic - 40Min Read/11.2K Words - Bang Chan x Female Reader - Non-Idol!au, Variety!au - NSFW/Smut, Plot - Reverse Harems, Variety Shows, Unfolding Plot, Suspicion, Scheming, Hostages, Overstimulation, Playing Pretend, Camboys, Secret Hook-Ups]

>>I’m watching the raw feed did I just see you leave?

>>If you don’t want to get us in a mountain of trouble you need to get back to set NOW.

You sighed at Felix’s berating on the screen in your hand, shifting uncomfortably in your heels where you stood in the cool night on the sidewalk. The house was only a block behind you. Looming. You took stock of what you had on you. You had the clothes on your back, your phone, and your apron balled up in your first, with your panties still shoved in the pocket. As if you hadn’t been thinking on your feet most of this time already, you needed to come up with something fast. You kept walking.

>I had to leave. You saw what happened back there.

>>NOW.

>I walked off in such a frenzy that I’m lost like a complete idiot. Please come get me. I don’t want to get in trouble.

You weren’t lost. You remembered a cute cafe that might be open late a few blocks away. If you hurried you could get there with enough time to look like you were waiting.

>Please Felix? I need you.

You paused on the sidewalk now. If Felix didn’t get back to you, you would need a new plan.

>>Okay. Tell me where you are and stay put.

Somehow, Felix took longer than expected to come get you, but the reason became apparent as a company car rolled up. For some reason you had been expecting him to come by himself instead of in a company car with a driver. Felix didn’t roll the window down, instead beckoning you inside with a curt wave of his hand. You looked grateful as you sat beside him and let out a giant sigh as the car lurched forward. The time on your phone let you know you’d only been out of the house for an hour. Felix was dressed casually, still in a buttoned shirt with jeans. You could imagine him back at his place, languidly watching the raw feed after an already long day of work.

“Thank you, really,” you gushed, “I was freaking out.”

“Me, too,” Felix exhaustedly laughed. He reclined limply against the back of the seat. “What happened, exactly?”

“It was stupid,” you sighed, and you weren’t exaggerating now. “Hyunjin and Jisung got into a fight. Over me. It was so childish.”

“Well, then, congratulations.”

“Congratulations? Is that sarcastic?”

“Nope,” Felix shook his head, “you may have lost 60 million each since they found out about each other, but you remember that secret prize level I told you about?”

You gawked at Felix, leaning up against your seatbelt. “That’s cruel.”

“That’s true,” Felix grimaced. “You got 70 million won each because they fought over it. It’s cruel, and it’s true, and you signed up for it without asking more questions.”

You sank back against the seat, miserable. “I wonder why Jeongin didn’t intervene.”

Felix shrugged. “He was probably being careful.”

“Is that part of why the boys don’t know who Jeongin is?”

His shrug renewed. “He really is only there for you and the equipment. The boys are taken care of.”

You had to think quickly if you wanted more answers, better answers, answers that could help stoke this fire that was burning up under you. The questions that had been stacking up had to tip over at some point and you were resolved to find out what you could, however you could. As for right now, the most pressing issue was how the hell anyone in this supposedly on-the-level production let you sleep with Jisung under the impression that he wasn’t a virgin. You felt taken advantage of, but Jisung was flat out exploited. No first-time performer knows what they’re getting into as is, and Jisung knew even less. You wanted answers, and you were going to get them. You sympathetically put a hand on Felix’s.

“How about you? Are you taken care of? I appreciate you coming to get me.”

“I’m just doing my job,” Felix shook his head as he eyed your hand. “I would do anything for you.”

The car pulled up to the front of the house. You checked the time on your phone and took a solid, confident breath before you pulled on a sweet smile. “Do you want to come inside? The boys are all going to be asleep by now. I still have my mic pack and I don’t want to go to the attic by myself in the dark.”

“Er,” Felix bit at his lip, considering you as you opened the car door and waited, “no problem.” He took your offered hand and let you lead him up the steps to the front door.

As quiet and dark as the house was, you still didn’t expect to find the attic completely silent as you opened the door. In all the excitement, Jeongin must have taken the opportunity to leave and try to find you. You closed the attic door before taking Felix by the hand and leading him to a small couch in the corner that the assistants and writers normally lounged on during downtime. Felix watched you carefully, even as he let you seat him on the couch. His breath cutely caught in his throat as you sat beside him, leaning into his space and letting him get the idea as your lips ghosted over his. It was almost sweet, nearly innocent, with how he instantly grew hard from your hand just resting high on his thigh.

Felix almost squealed as you roughly grabbed onto his erection, only silenced by your hand clamped over his mouth. He stared at you wildly in the dimly lit room, his whimpers muffled by your palm.

“What the hell kind of gonzo operation are you running here having me sleep with a virgin without any prior knowledge?” You hissed. Felix bit into your hand and slid out from under you. He landed on the floor with a thud and you quickly pounced on top of him, wrestling him around until you got a hold on him. You whipped Felix’s belt out from his jeans and lassoed it around his wrists behind his back before manhandling him up, grunting as you shoved him onto a chair from in front of the control console. With a confrontation like yours and a response like his, there was no way this was some huge misunderstanding.

“Who’s a virgin?” Felix panted.

“Jisung,” you growled, eyes narrowed.

“He never mentioned that to us,” Felix shook his head.

“Right, and none of them watch porn,” you scoffed. Felix shrugged helplessly. You spied another cord to bind Felix’s tied wrists to the chair backing. Finding two more in the grip’s toolbag, you were able to bind his ankles as well. He wasn’t even struggling, but you couldn’t be too careful. “I have more questions, and I’m sure I’m not the only one,” you warned, when you heard a buzzing emanating from Felix’s pocket. You reached forward, digging into his jeans for his phone. It was a text from Jeongin.

>>I could’ve sworn I was on her trail.

You eyed Felix and he stared you down, challenging you and ultimately unable to stop you as you began typing.

>It’s fine. I found her. I don’t see your stuff at the house so I’m guessing you took it. Get some rest and I’ll deal with this.

>>Are you sure?

>Yes. I got it.

“You stay put,” you warned.

“What’s stopping me from calling for help?” Felix smirked at you, unimpressed until you casually unfurled your apron, dropped in the scuffle, and pulled out your used panties. You stuffed them in his mouth before you found a roll of gaff tape.

“I saw a roll of packing tape over there,” you taunted, “tell me how many cameras and mics are in the house and I’ll use that instead.”

Felix’s knee bounced nervously as he stared at the gaff tape in your hand. He pathetically spit out your panties. “Your show doesn’t have any dedicated mics, only the on-board audio on the cameras. Three each in the common areas and your room, one in each hallway, one in each bathroom pointed away from the toilet, one in the laundry room, and one in each bedroom.”

“Night vision?”

Felix shook his head defeatedly.

“That’s such shitty coverage,” you smirked, “and here I was thinking there were more I hadn’t noticed.”

“Nope,” Felix grumbled, “just a tight budget.”

“You stay put,” you directed as you strolled over to the table on the other side of the room and grabbed the roll of packing tape, “and you stay quiet.”

You shucked off your heels and softly clicked the attic door closed behind you before you navigated your way through the dark house. Thankfully, being here and getting so familiar with the set over time helped you know where everything was, every jutting edge and squeaky spot in the floor. You didn’t predict that your paranoia would make every creak of the house unsettling, though.

Chan was bleary-eyed and bruised as he opened the door, and nearly exclaimed when he realized it was you. You pressed a serious finger against his lips as you pushed him back into his room and shut the door behind you. He watched curiously as you looked around his room until you came to his desk. You surreptitiously knocked over a wireless speaker while reaching for the lamp and quickly dropped a blanket onto the fallen device, adding a pillow for good measure.

“Did you know there was a camera hidden in your room?” You asked. In the light you could see Chan was actually still icing a bruise on his chin from the brawl earlier. He stared.

“Sure, but I was told the crew would always let me know me when it’s on.”

“Apparently not,” you shook your head. “I need your help. I have a problem.”

“Anything,” Chan eagerly said as he stepped forward earnestly. You stepped back away. He winced, almost as if he was burned by an iron he didn’t realize was still hot.

“I need to know what you know. I need to know I can trust you.”

Chan bit at his lip before he tiredly sat on the bed. He reached for his hoodie and pulled it on over his bare chest, zipping it up and snuggling into it. The sigh he let out felt preparatory. “I thought you looked familiar on the first day,” he began carefully, “but I wasn’t sure. I’d only ever seen parts of your face at once, you know? And I had to lie through my teeth and scrub my portfolio clean to even get this gig, like I already graduated two years ago, but I still said I’m younger in case they wanted younger. The big thing they sold me as the hook was that there was going to be a staff member casted to try and trip us up during the show. I thought that was exciting. And everyone thought it was the cook, because of course they did. And, I don’t know…”

“You thought it was me?” You smirked. The cook was outrageously villainous-looking, with severe features and a ridiculous mustache to boot.

“Yes, I thought the cook was too obvious,” Chan admitted shamefully, drawing his hands up into his sleeves before burying his face in them for a moment. “So I kept my distance. That morning you joined us for yoga, I knew it was you, and you were plotting something, I was so sure of it. Later that night I went to go see if I could find anything out and—“

“Me and Changbin?”

“You and Changbin,” Chan rubbed his face in his hands again. “And I knew for sure that I recognized you, because of, you know… your moaning. I at least know how you sound. It was unmistakably you, but I couldn’t tell you I’m me. I thought it was a crazy coincidence, being here with you, but I was afraid of anyone finding out and me getting kicked off the show.”

“So you knew it was me. What then?” You asked patiently as you pulled out the chair for his desk. There wasn’t a ton of time, but you had time for this.

“The next morning we had that challenge right at dawn. And we all had hints planted for us when we woke up, and you remember Minho had the red herring?”

You shrugged, vaguely remembering something along those lines earlier in the series. Chan charged on.

“The hints could’ve only been planted overnight, and you were, er, busy. You went to bed and I didn’t hear you come out before I gave up and went to sleep.”

You watched, almost touched by how clearly Chan was upset with himself, refusing to look at you as he fidgeted with his fingers, the zipper of his hoodie, your necklace he was still wearing.

“Originally, when Changbin was first wondering about you, I made up that thing about you wanting more screen time. I just didn’t want him to flirt with you. I didn’t want your big break to be filled with guys being creeps.”

“How ironic,” you mused.

“The more I saw you flirting with the guys, the more weird I felt about it. Something felt so off, and I was so on edge and paranoid, that I started to wonder if maybe you were that person, maybe you did want extra screen time or something. I had the brilliant idea to confront you in the attic, but I didn’t expose you or anything, I was only making an ass out of myself because I knew you were telling the truth as soon as you said it. I knew I was wrong. I was just being an asshole.”

A thought suddenly came to mind. “So the other night? When you were listening in on me?”

Chan flopped back into his bed in exasperation. “I was trying to see if it was a good time to talk, hopefully apologize.”

He sat back up, his head falling right back into his hands. You gingerly leaned forward to pick his head up. You’d imagined this, something like this, innocuous touches like this. It was odd to think just a night ago you didn’t know you’d actually be doing this with someone you’d known for years but never met.

“I’m so sorry,” he lamented as he leaned into your hand, “I hope I didn’t ruin acting too much for you. I’m an awful friend.”

“No,” you sighed, and you meant it. “I wanted to expand my acting resume, sure, but you knew I’d been wanting to try expanding my AV career more. I took the gig mostly for that.”

“What do you mean?” Chan stared blankly at you, head lifted from your hand. You stared back.

“What do you mean?”

“What does this show have to do with your AV career?”

You shook your head, flabbergasted. “It doesn’t have anything to do with it. At least, your show doesn’t. Mine entirely does.”

“Your show?”

Chan leaned forward as you leaned back, both of you with your lips parted in grand-scale confusion until you realized. And then you were furious.

“I told you I have a problem. You need to come upstairs. Right now.”

You pulled Chan along by the sleeve in the dark hallway and back up the stairs to the attic. He almost yelled when he saw Felix tied and gagged in the chair. You shut the door behind you. Chan was frozen, hand over his mouth in surprise. This looked bad, you realized. You took out your phone and played an audio clip. Felix’s voice crackled out of your phone, explaining how much money you’d won for inspiring the fight earlier that night. Chan’s face was cryptic.

“Do you know who this is?” You asked him. Chan barely shook his head as he still tried to process everything. “He knows who you are. Felix is the assistant to the executive producer of my show. Maybe yours, too. I have no idea, since I’ve never met either of them.”

“What exactly,” Chan murmured, “is your show?”

“Simkung House,” you sighed, arms folded. You felt so tired, so sore. “One lucky housekeeper has to try and seduce five young bachelors during a show they’re filming, without them finding out about each other.” You peeled off Felix’s gag and pulled your panties from his lips to drop them on the floor. “And tonight I fucked a virgin without my knowing.”

Chan watched the deep frown etching into your face. You could see his fists clenching by his side. “Who—“

“Jisung, apparently,” Felix rasped with a weak smile. “Tonight’s episode is yesterday, so tomorrow our paying audience is going to watch you take that nice right hook to the face he gave you.”

The slap Chan landed across Felix’s cheek reverberated in the attic before you could stop him, pressing your hands into the rough rise and fall of his chest as he seethed. Chan still elbowed past you and grabbed Felix by the collar of his shirt, pulling him against his bindings. “I have some questions,” he growled, “the first being why you didn’t get talent that actually fucking do porn.”

“Nice guard dog,” Felix laughed meanly as he looked at you, “does he do any tricks?”

“Yeah, I know a pretty fucking good one,” Chan gritted as he cocked his hand back into a fist this time.

“It wasn’t my fucking idea,” Felix spat, “but performers like her cost too much. The execs decided it was easier to hide clauses in your contracts.”

“Oh,” Chan scoffed, “so I could’ve gotten more money if you pricks were on the level.”

“Felix,” you stepped in, “what’s the bigger reason for you to use no-names and actors who never did AV’s? It can’t just be for authenticity. There’s too much liability. They don’t know how this all works.”

Felix wriggled in Chan’s grip as he eyed you warily. “Liability isn’t an issue if you sign it all away. Control and authenticity, that’s what we wanted. You were the most knowledgeable of the cast aside from maybe him and even then you both didn’t check all the clauses closely enough. Liability was defined as consequences and results of the show, and we’re absolved. None of you have good management, if any.”

Chan dropped Felix back into the chair, roughly enough that he tipped onto the floor with a crash. Neither of you paid him much mind as you leaned back against the console table with your arms folded. Chan was fuming as he paced with his hands on his hips. “You used her, and you used us, so give me a good reason why we shouldn’t walk right this second.”

“Because of your contracts, idiots. If you talk or walk, no one gets their winnings, on either show, and the producers have the right to sue for damages.”

“Winnings? We’re mostly getting tuition and grants,” Chan retorted.

“Not her,” Felix grinned. “She has 500 million won on the line.”

Chan’s head whipped toward you, slack-jawed. You nodded. In comparison, it was insulting. You looked up at Chan, who stopped his pacing to look at you. “You ever bundle up a bunch of blankets to look like you’re still in bed and then sneak out?”

“Sure,” Chan said, distracted by clearly wanting to beat up Felix still turtled on the floor, “why?”

“The cameras don’t have night vision. I’ll cut the lights in case anything is still on, and you get the boys. Don’t use your flashlights. We all need to talk.”

You walked over to the breaker box on the wall and opened it, flipping everything off but the attic. Chan nodded, giving Felix a wary look before creeping downstairs.

Felix let out a disgruntled sigh below you. “Didn’t you slap the shit out of him earlier? I saw it in the raw feed. I thought you hated him.”

“No, I’m just mad at him,” you grumbled.

“Hyung, it’s three in the fucking morning,” Changbin tiredly groaned as the boys filed in behind Chan. He had his arms crossed over the thin tank top barely shielding him from the cool air of the attic. Minho was still wearing a sleeping mask, pulled up onto his forehead. Hyunjin was sporting a dark bruise on his cheek to mirror the one on Jisung’s. Both the younger cast members looked particularly hurt, but in different directions — Hyunjin’s contempt versus Jisung’s heartbreak. All four boys froze as they took notice of you standing over Felix tied up on the floor.

“Apparently,” you sighed, “we’re not all on the same page. This is Felix.” You looked down and matched his nasty look. “Explain, dirtbag.”

Felix muttered under his breath before grumbling out the story as you all understood it — who he was, you were, the separate shows, the shady contracts, and your exorbitant prize at stake. You and Chan filled in the other pertinent details. The hurt in their eyes was heartbreaking, realizing they’d been played when they thought they each had your attention all to themselves. Bruised egos and hurt feelings and fear all around. They’d all shot porn without knowing it, and most of them had already had their scenes broadcasted. The boys all stood astounded and silent as Felix finished his story until Minho finally piped up, towards Chan.

“Hyung, they told you there would be a saboteur and you still didn’t think it was the cook?”

“It was too obvious!” Chan reeled, “and none of you knew?”

The boys collectively shook their heads.

“We were trying to make sure you would take the lead in the show, but we didn’t predict you to make it interesting by being stupid,” Felix sneered up at Chan, cut off into a yelp as he kicked at the chair.

“So if any of us walk, we all lose everything?” Changbin asked.

“Fine,” Jisung muttered, “you all do what you want, but that’s what I’m doing.” He turned to walk down the stairs and the remaining boys exchanged looks.

Chan folded his arms. “I think it’s the best thing to do, too. We’ve all been used.”

“No,” you shook your head, “we may have all been used, but I think the best thing to do then is wring these monsters dry. I’ll split the prize money.”

“Is that all?” Hyunjin glowered before Changbin shushed him.

“If you can all last today and finish the show, then I can, too,” you assured them. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“It sucks,” Minho shrugged, “but we understand. I do, at least. You were playing the game. You just didn’t know you were playing by yourself. I’ll stay.” Changbin and Hyunjin grumbled in reluctant agreement.

You gave Minho a grateful smile. “We should get some rest then. I’ll talk to Jisung.”

The boys sleepily trudged back downstairs but Chan hung back and detached Felix from his chair. Felix spilled onto the floor, wrists still tied. Chan rolled him onto his stomach with his foot before dropping down to sit on his back, trapping Felix against the hardwood.

“I know your plan now,” Felix grumbled into the floor. “What’s keeping me from outing you?”

“Because you’re just an assistant,” you pitifully shook your head at Felix as you lowered to squat down in front of him. You spoke in plain English now. Felix was the first to fixate on your multiple languages, and you’d always assumed it was at least partly spurred on by his own. Chan’s eyebrows quirked at the switch. You reached forward and grabbed Felix’s bound wrists, pulling them up and away from his back enough to make him grunt in discomfort. Chan watched, half curious, half goading as you kept a firm hold on him. “You’re just an assistant, Felix, and we’re not the only ones held hostage by this show. You’re such a good boy for the Big Boss that the moment something goes wrong, he’ll pin everything on you.”

Felix struggled hard under Chan’s weight and your hold. “Fuck you! I’ve put a lot of time into this—“

“Exactly, Felix,” you chided. You did drop his wrists now but lifted his chin to look at you. His English was cute. It was too bad he was a creep. “You put so much time into both these shows. You helped with casting and keeping production on time and within budget, you probably helped with costuming and product placement and location scouting and writing. You have your hands in a lot of pots. What I have are multiple texts of you being a flirty creep. And I have you recorded saying you would do anything for me and even come into the house with me.”

“Pig,” Chan shook his head disgustedly as he lifted Felix’s wrists behind his back himself this time, straining him until Felix cried out and you slapped Chan’s hands off.

You brought Felix’s chin up to look at you again. “If you’re proud of your work, then let us finish the shows. You’ll get your credit. If this ever does come to a head, I’ll destroy the recording and say I was encouraging you to flirt with me from our first meeting. But if you rat on us, the Big Boss will throw you to the wolves when we tear this down and there will be no help for you.”

Felix looked hard into your eyes, the pain of his choice apparent as he reluctantly nodded. You waited patiently for him to say something.

“Fine.”

You reached forward to untie Felix and motioned for Chan to let him up. Felix cracked his neck and massaged his wrists. You found yourself fixing the collar of his shirt as Chan carefully watched. “Thanks, Felix.”

Felix held his hand out expectantly and you thought he meant for you to shake it before you realized you were still holding his phone and belt. You placed them back in his hand, hoping the deadly look in your eye reminded him how serious you were. He sighed miserably, looking between you and Chan before silently turning to walk downstairs.

Now it was just you and Chan. You collected your panties from the floor before you walked over to the breaker box and flipped everything downstairs into the proper place. Your feet were sore as you slipped your shoes back on.

“I know I said we should walk,” Chan said as he gathered the bungee cords and put the chair back in its place, “but I admire you splitting the money.”

“Could’ve had more to split,” you tersely shrugged as you took the cords from him and put them back where you found them. You gave him a pointed look. Chan winced as you breezed past him and down the stairs.

You could’ve checked Jisung’s room to find him, but your feet brought you down to the study. Sure enough, there was Jisung, looking over the books on the shelves.

“You going to miss it?”

“Sure,” Jisung shrugged, “it’s my first show. Just last month I found out about the audition after my improv show one night, and now I’m being humiliated in front of a paying audience.”

“Jisung,” you lamented as you set a hand on his shoulder. He regarded it warily.

“I know you were just playing the game as you understood it,” Jisung sighed, “but my pride is hurt. All those people are going to watch me lose my virginity and get into my first fistfight.”

“That was your first? You don’t punch like it was your first,” you gave a light smile, and he eventually returned it.

“If you’re giving me a performance review, did I seem like a virgin?”

“Not at all,” you shook your head, “you’re great. You keep surprising me.”

“Thanks,” Jisung said quietly.

“Help me make this work,” you pleaded. “It’s not enough, but we’ll take home some extra money for our trouble. Please stay, and then you can forget about me and the show forever. I’ll leave you out of the aftermath as much as possible.”

Jisung meditated on it for a moment. “What if I don’t want to forget about you?”

“Then I’ll come see you when you go back to doing improv, maybe sit in on your campaign back home,” you reasoned sweetly, and it made him give up a wider grin.

“I’ll stay, then,” Jisung decided. “After all, it’s just acting.” You let out a thankful sigh and cautiously drew Jisung to you, careful that he might still be cold to you, and gently hugged him close. As he eventually returned the gesture, you softened and kissed his cheek goodnight before heading downstairs.

A glint in the light of the basement caught your eye as you neared your bedroom. Chan’s necklace hung on the doorknob. You held it in your hand, the light material heavy with the events of the day. There were still DM’s from Chan you hadn’t even read yet, and you eyed your phone suspiciously from where it sat on your blankets as you changed for bed. Finally, you allowed yourself to look through your notifications. You felt oddly bashful as you scrolled too far, up to the video he’d sent you the other night. Words were escaping you, attached to feelings that hadn’t even picked a shape to form into. However, you knew something needed to be said.

>I may have been too mean up there. I understand why you were being a dick for the most part.

>>I have been such an asshole. I’ve been out of line since day one.

>You were playing your own one-sided game, too. And with an extra obstacle thrown in.

>>Thanks for not saying anything to the guys, by the way.

>Too many surprises for one night. Do they even know you speak English?

>>Do they know YOU speak English? They know I’m older than I said, but I don’t think they know I’m older than you. They don’t know my real name.

>Well I know you speak English, and I know you’re older than me. Do I get to know your real name?

>>Chris.

>I like that. It’ll be weird to get used to, though.

>>How about Chan is an asshole, but I’m Chris.

>Nice try. Get some sleep.

>>I should’ve told you the moment I was sure. I’m sorry. Goodnight.

🎥🖤🎥🖤🎥🖤🎥

What little sleep you’d received couldn’t even be bolstered by the incredible amount of coffee you swallowed the next morning. You caught Chan doing the same over the lip of your mug and he choked on his coffee, ears reddening as he went to finish getting ready. The other boys looked just as puzzled at Chan’s outburst. Minho was quiet as he slid up next to you at the counter in the kitchen, letting the rest of the room talk over him.

“Porn, huh?” He wasn’t judgmental, he wasn’t rude. He was simply curious. He watched you carefully nod into your mug. “It’s good? You enjoy it?”

You nodded again. “Do you mind?”

“No,” Minho smiled, “I’m a little jealous, but that’s not your fault. I’m just glad you didn’t sleep with Hyunjin just because you wanted to. He’s been so dramatic about the whole thing.”

You tried not to laugh too loudly, settling instead for another helping of coffee.

“Who was best?” Minho smirked at you. “Objectively speaking, of course. Was it Channie-hyung?”

You did laugh now, but tried to keep it down. You shook your head. “I didn’t sleep with Chan.”

“Ah,” Minho smiled, “so I was probably the best.”

The two of you shared a snickered laugh between you before you set about the rest of the day. Truly, it was a bizarre experience. You and the boys all shared looks like you all knew something was running in the background. They were hyper-aware. Some of their actions and banter seemed stilted, distracted. Jisung had to run a line five times because his mind was so firmly somewhere else. Not to mention Minho and Changbin would not stop looking at you, and Chan was back on his trajectory of nervously avoiding you altogether.

Chan also happened to be where you were the most lost. You were still hurt, of course, that hadn’t changed, but you were conflicted. Here was this guy, this friend, this confidant that you’d known for so long, but now an unexpected series of events put a strain on that relationship, on that trust. You were confident that guy was still in there, but you couldn’t quite make an estimate on when you would be open to returning to that. Despite all logic saying otherwise, you almost hoped it would be soon. However, if he kept avoiding you, whether for shame or shyness, you wouldn’t get it in the near future.

You were still keeping up appearances, even so close to wrapping the show, taking care of the odd chore here and there and helping the boys pack. You were heading to Jisung and Hyunjin’s room to fix the beds when a hand shot out from the bathroom and grabbed you. Changbin held a finger to his lips as he did the same to yours while Minho leaned over and turned on the shower to its hottest and hardest setting, quickly filling the room with steam and the minor roar of running water. The three of you were huddled by the toilet, with Changbin letting you go so he could sit up on top of the tank and Minho leaned against the sink. The boys signaled for you to be quiet until the door opened again. It was Hyunjin. All three boys reached for their mic packs to turn them off and Hyunjin crowded in beside you.

“You didn’t sleep with Channie-hyung,” Minho said quietly as he eyed the camera, apparently hidden in a vanity light over the mirror.

“Yeah,” you ogled, “so?”

“So, noona,” Changbin explained, “that puts us in the odd predicament of—“

“We want that money,” Hyunjin blurted.

“We want that money,” Minho confirmed.

“What?!”

All three boys pounced on you to quiet your outburst.

Minho was the first to pipe back up. “Noona, you said it yourself. You want to wring these monsters dry. We’re not exactly doing that if you don’t run away with all the money you can. Don’t you want to win?”

“I am not sleeping with Chan,” you laughed tepidly.

“Why not? He’s crazy about you,” Hyunjin reeled, “at least, I hope he is with how he acts about you. Otherwise he’s a lunatic.”

“Well I’m not crazy about him,” you insisted.

“Then it’s work! It’s work like you were hired to do in this stupid game,” Changbin persisted. “What did Chan-hyung ever do to you?”

“Aside from being a creep?” You deadpanned. The boys all looked a bit guilty. You knew they were right, but you hated how much personal bullshit was in the way. “Besides, what would you even be doing with your shares? Hyunjin, you’re fucking rich.”

“And I’m very fucking close to being cut off by my parents when they find out where I’ve been this whole time,” Hyunjin retorted, “which is not at a couple conventions for school like they currently think.”

“Jisung isn’t rich,” Minho pressed, “he wants to open a game bar with his friends and needs a starting investment. I’m not rich either and while I would appreciate tuition to finish culinary school, tuition won’t help me move to Japan to keep training.”

“Well?” You looked at Changbin, exasperated. “Go on, then, tell me the awesome thing you’re doing with your share.”

“It’s a nest egg for my physical therapy doctorate,” Changbin admitted.

You let out a thorough groan. “Well, I can’t do it,” you flippantly explained, “and even if I did, I don’t have a plan.”

All three boys beamed at you, but Minho looked particularly proud. “We do.”

🎥🖤🎥🖤🎥🖤🎥

Finding Chan wasn’t difficult once you figured out his game. Whatever his reason was for avoiding you, you at least knew he would be doing his laundry again before he finished packing. You listened carefully in your room, waiting for footsteps to travel from his room down to the basement. This lined up with how you were sure you caught him coming down here earlier in the day. You stepped lightly, trying not to let your heels click on the floor as you let yourself in. Sure enough, there was Chan, oblivious as he finished loading his laundry into the dryer. It took him shutting the door to the machine to finally see you still standing at the doorway. You quietly pulled the door closed behind you.

Chan stood, surprised and silent while he waited for you to do something, say something. His eyes were on your fingers, watching as they gathered at the top of your blouse and plucked open the top button. Chan gulped. His throat apparently ran dry.

“What’re you—“

“Oppa,” you said clearly as you eyed the camera in the back of the room, “I’m sorry for yesterday. I was so intimidated when you revealed your age to me, but I know you only told me because you want to trust me. I want you to know you can. I trust you, too.”

It was cheesy and ridiculous and entirely unsubstantiated, enough so that Chan was bewildered as he checked the settings on the dryer and surreptitiously scanned the room to find the camera you were clearly acting for. He found it, nestled amongst the detergents and cleaning products on the shelves lining the back of the room. Chan rigidly turned back to see you undo the next button on your blouse. He visibly swallowed again before he started the dryer, the machine instantly broadcasting a solid hum as he warily approached you.

“What’re you doing?” He asked quietly as you worked at the third button. His ears burned crimson when you switched off your mic pack and drew him close, sliding your hands around his waist and doing the same for his, flicking the tiny black switch.

“I trust you,” you breathed, “do you trust me?” Chan nodded timidly. You looked up at him, your gaze meeting his and you could swear you could hear your heart thumping. Maybe his, too. You leaned forward first. He hesitated. His fingers swept your hair back like they had the previous night, only cautiously now. The pouty lips that inspired his username were parted, almost as if Chan wanted to say something, but instead closed the gap between your mouths as he finally kissed you.

You’d pictured this more than a few times, being kissed by Duckie — Chris — Chan — but you still hadn’t predicted how passionate this would feel, how he would groan low in his throat the moment you reciprocated as if he’d been craving it.

“Are you sure?” Chan murmured. He waited for your shallow nod before he kissed you again, his firm hands gently pressing you against the door and his parted lips grazing your neck. “Any rules?”

“Yeah,” you smirked, “make it look good.”

“Got it,” Chan laughed quietly, but even then he was surprised as you pushed him back and started working at the buttons of his shirt. He charged ahead and pulled off his blazer and shirt for you, dropping them to the floor and you found yourself suddenly confronted once again with this chest that you were very familiar with. You attempted to convince yourself that you were just making it look good, but you knew damn well that the camera could not see as you took a moment to run your hands over him, letting your fingers roam the dips and planes of his body. It was a surreal experience, walking your fingers along the lines of his arms, his torso, his hips, previously only committed to memory from pictures and videos. Chan capitalized on your distraction to take over in finishing undoing the buttons of your shirt, but even then his hands hesitated to open your blouse more until you finally came back around and did it for him.

If Chan was going to be as gentle as you predicted, you’d known you would have to wind him up. You had reviewed the entire Rolodex of mental notes you’d taken since knowing him before even coming in here, and hopefully it would pay off. Mostly, you’d hoped it would successfully rile him up, but you had to admit you mostly wanted to see his focus set entirely on you. Your hands swept up his arms to his neck to pull him close for another deep kiss, the speed of the gesture making you fall back against the door with him in tow. Chan instantly grunted at the move, especially as your knee rubbed up against his thigh. His hands were quick to respond, and you gasped as he grabbed your leg, wrapping you around him so he could press against you. He paused as he felt the garter holding up your stocking, intrigued by the discovery. Chan leaned away, enough that you could see his impressed smirk. You’d tried to remember every piece of lingerie, every hairstyle, every nuance of your makeup he’d ever complimented, just in case he’d needed any extra convincing, but that apparently wasn’t so necessary as he dropped your leg and pulled you along to back you up against the washing machine.

You were excited to see if Chan could think on his feet as much as you had been, and he didn’t fail to surprise you as he hazarded a quick glance at the camera to make sure you were both positioned at a good angle for coverage before he reached forward and brazenly unzipped your skirt. He watched with satisfaction as the garment fell to the floor, better revealing your garters and the panties that smartly complemented your bra. His gaze wasn’t just hungry, it almost looked affectionate, and you didn’t even know what to do with that realization before he thankfully interrupted it by easily picking you up and pushing you on top of the washing machine. Chan swept your hair back before he kissed you again, his hands gliding over around your waist and behind you to unclip and slip off your bra. You let out a content sigh as his lips trailed over your neck and shoulders, only stopping as he caught you unbuckling his belt. Chan kicked off his shoes and slacks, but suddenly put a hand on yours as you dipped your fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“I swear to god,” he laughed into your shoulder as he kissed you there again, “do not make me get naked on this show.”

You couldn’t contain your giggle and Chan quickly stifled you with another kiss to your lips, planting a trail of kisses down your chin and throat, down between your cleavage and down over your stomach before his warm breath ghosted over your soaked pussy. He tugged your panties off and let them drop to the floor before he grasped at the straps of your garters on your thighs, spreading you open and slinging your legs over his shoulders as he finally placed a kiss to your soft pussy lips. Your groans echoed each other as his tongue explored you, getting to know you on this new level as his hands hungrily grabbed onto you, rubbing affectionate little circles into your thighs with his thumbs. Somehow, it almost seemed like Chan also remembered some notes of his own as you felt his fingers probe against your entrance. He wasn’t fast with the thrusting digits, just like you liked it, as he slowly scissored them in and out of you in contrast with his quick tongue.

Chan held you down as you writhed against his mouth and fingers, easily making you sit and take it while he worked you into a breathless mess, and you could feel the seeds of an orgasm being planted. You quickly dismissed the thought; getting too caught up in the idea would put too much pressure to finish, especially with him. This, however, didn’t seem to be an issue that occurred to him as he continued to goad you into cumming, his other hand snaking up your belly and between your breasts to gently grip your throat. He didn’t squeeze, he really only placed his hand possessively around your neck — just the way you wanted it. You might’ve casually mentioned that to him, once, months ago, and that realization was what sent you over the edge into a shuddering orgasm, whining and whimpering as you threaded your fingers into Chan’s hair and tugged since he still wouldn’t let you grind your hips against or away from his tongue.

Chan finally pulled back, chin glistening and a satisfied smirk on his face as he came up for air and stood to straighten his back out. You caught your breath while you looked him over, his flushed cheeks apparent even through his light makeup and still contrasting with the pretty shade of pink that had spread through him, down to his chest and further down still to Chan’s rigid erection still concealed in his boxer briefs. From prior knowledge, you were sure his length was blushing as well and fit to leak precum at any moment. You caught each other’s eye, exposed in ogling each other and inexplicably bashful from it before you broke the tension and sat up on the washing machine to hop off onto the floor. Chan watched, patiently curious as you switched places now and pushed him back against the machine. His pupils were blown wide with arousal, taking in the sight of you pulling out his cock into your warm grip and, sure enough, it was cutely red and leaking the moment you felt it bare in your hand. Chan choked out a shivered moan as you gently stroked him.

You leaned up now, meeting his gaze before you kissed him deep, your tongue languidly swiping against his before you pulled back, just enough to make a show of letting a single drip of saliva fall from your lips and onto his cock in your hand before massaging it onto his length — just the way he liked it. Chan leaned forward, resting his head on your shoulder as you firmly stroked his cock, his moans almost pretty and restrained as he clenched his fists. He apparently didn’t want too much, his head leaning back once as he let out a thick groan before he grabbed your hips again, now impatiently bending you over the washing machine. The soft, slick head of Chan’s cock pressed up against your sensitive pussy lips before prodding into your entrance. You could hear him let out a steady breath, punctuated with his gripping fingers on your hip as he teased the length inside you. He bottomed out with a content sigh and, with the angle figured out, he pulled at your elbow to hold you back against his chest as he finally fucked you.

Chan was precise as you felt his fingers slide down your torso and between your legs to toy with your clit and you gasped, a sharp tingle of overstimulation shooting straight through your hips.

“Wait, wait,” you gasped, “too much—“

“I know,” Chan murmured as he dragged his lips along your shoulder and up to your throat, “I want to try something.”

Your nails dug into his arm as he softly stroked your clit, still soaked from his tongue as he fucked you. You knew exactly what he was trying. Again, ages ago, you had told Chan about the first time a guy got you to cum twice and you didn’t have to fake it, and it was by doing exactly this, fucking you from behind as he played with your clit. Chan almost growled against your neck as he worked you over, his turgid length hitting you at the right angle where he had you stood up like this so he could rub up against your most sensitive spot. You knew this had to be loud as hell, Chan groaning and you whining as his cock rammed into you, but you found it hard to worry about being heard when all that currently occupied your thoughts was white noise. The only thing you could focus on was Chan and fucking Chan, and fucking Chan while he intently worked to make you cum again.

“You feel so good,” he panted behind you, and it wasn’t a revelation, it was a confirmation. You wondered, for a moment, if he’d been thinking of this just as often as you had, if he casually thought about it every once in a while as you had for years now.

“You feel so good,” you gasped, even more so as his other hand moved up to gently hold your throat again. It hadn’t even occurred to you that another orgasm was actually building in you again until that pot boiled over, and Chan cursed and moaned out loud as you whimpered through your climax on his cock, the depths of your pussy contracting around and constricting his length.

Chan gently slid out of you and turned you around in his arms so he could lean you back against the washing machine to regain your composure. You allowed the exhausted kiss he pressed to your temple. He caught his breath as well, but he seemed preoccupied as you clung to him, your arms around his waist. It was for support, sure, but actually experiencing his presence like this was still a little surreal. His cock, streaked in your juices, was nudged up against your thigh as he held you. He raised a curious eyebrow as you lifted your leg and wrapped yourself around him as he had you do earlier. His eyes silently implored you as you reached down between your bodies to guide his slick erection back inside of you.

He hesitated. Really?

You nodded. Yes.

Between you still recovering from both orgasms and Chan still working on getting his, you both struggled out a moan as he rocked into you again, his persistently hard cock dragging along your sore walls. You were both a mess of tangled hair and perspiration. Chan held fast onto you, one arm around your waist and a hand still holding your spread leg around his hip, so intent to chase his peak that he wasn’t even opening up for the camera anymore. An odd sense of intimacy raised the hair on the back of your neck; it was just you and him right now. You reached for him, your fingers cupping his face and drawing him close for a shaky kiss. It was apparent from his eyes shut in concentration, his breathy gasps, his stuttered moans, that he wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer, but you knew you wanted to be the one to push him over the edge.

You leaned back just enough that he could sense you looking up into his eyes, but still staying close enough that you could speak to him under your breath. He gazed at you under his heavy eyelashes, his eyes soaked in infatuation to the point of intoxication.

“I want to try something,” you grinned exhaustedly. Chan couldn’t even muster the stamina to say something; he only nodded. Your fingers curled into his hair and drew him close, and your breath tickling his ear made him shudder.

“Cum.”

Your one-word command seemed to send a shock through Chan as he gritted and groaned through his orgasm, starting at his hips and emanating through to his fingers clutching onto you as his weight collapsed against you. His hips stuttered as he rode it out, your exhausted pussy still responsive enough to throb and milk his cock of every drop of cum he probably ever saved for you.

You held him like that, still dazedly stroking his hair with your fingers as he gasped for air where he was deadweight against your shoulder. Finally, Chan seemed to gain enough wherewithal to let himself slide out of you and finally grab his pants, digging out his phone to check the time. His eyes grew comically wide, blinking back to life as he realized he needed to put himself back together in time to film the formal finale when he was distracted by your fingers on his wrist. He looked pointedly at your hand there before his eyes followed your arm back up to your eyes, trying hard to make sure you wouldn’t forget this. His tense shoulders softened and he stopped where he stood, about to snatch up the rest of his clothes, and switched tracks to instead pull you close again. Chan stroked your hair back away from your forehead and kissed you gently on the lips when a crash came through the laundry room door.

You both jolted as Minho came clambering into the doorway of the small room, dragging Hyunjin by the collar of his shirt. They were both interrupted by the sight of both of you, practically naked and still embracing each other.

“You whore!” Minho theatrically denounced. He was aghast as he tugged Hyunjin to attention, who was currently distracted by your exposed form. “I was going to ask you why the hell I found your underwear in Hyunjin’s luggage while I was helping him pack, but I can see you’re a bit busy.” Minho even brandished the offending garment for effect.

Chan warily eyed the boys and then you before the pieces locked into place. He surreptitiously shoved his cock back into his briefs before he marched forward. You watched as Chan snatched the panties from Minho’s hand and quickly wheeled around to confront you.

“I’m sure there’s something I’m not understanding here,” Chan insisted, “I’m sure Hyunjin just stole these from you, right?”

You were suddenly very glad you were mostly turned away from the camera in the back of the room as Chan’s sudden dramatics nearly made you crack. Thankfully, Hyunjin saved you before you could be caught laughing.

“No, stupid,” Hyunjin sneered, “she let me have them after we fucked. Why do you think Jisung got all pissy with me last night? He fucked her, too.”

“Hyunjin, you fucked her?!” Minho reeled. Chan stepped forward, squaring up against Hyunjin in the doorway.

“When?!” Chan interrogated as he dramatically balled his fist into the collar of Hyunjin’s shirt.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Hyunjin giggled, his shit-eating grin wide before Chan beat his other fist into the door of the laundry room. The three of you silently alerted to Chan’s outburst, feeling a touch more genuine than the rest of the charade. Admittedly, the finer details of when and where you slept with them all was a bit glossed over in your impromptu meeting the previous night.

“Tell me, you little shit,” Chan theatrically pushed him, getting back on the level, “you get one last chance to say you’re lying.”

“Chan, I—“ you piped up behind them. All three boys glared back at you and you nearly broke into a fit of laughter again. Chan turned his attention back to threateningly cocking his fist back.

“You better admit you’re lying,” Chan warned, before Minho clapped a hand onto his fist. You quietly tried to grab your clothes as the boys hashed it out.

“What good is that going to do? I slept with her too,” Minho admonished. Hyunjin and Chan turned to gape at you in disbelief.

“Besides, I don’t need to tell you anything,” Hyunjin laughed as he turned his attention back to Chan, “she knows I was better anyway.”

“Or she pitied you,” Chan retorted. This was all so much more exaggerated than you’d imagined, and doubly so as he apparently struck a nerve with Hyunjin, who proceeded to headbutt Chan directly in his nose. He rocked back on his feet, a hand clapped over his nose as he cursed. You and Minho both gasped, unable to stop Chan as he reacted with a swift punch to Hyunjin’s stomach and sent him crumpling to the floor. Minho squared his shoulders against Chan as you sneakily began to get a little more dressed.

“You fucking brute, I’ve had it with you—” Minho barked, and Chan got in his face.

“Don’t be mad at me because I fucked her, too,” Chan shook his head, when Hyunjin got back to his senses enough to tackle into Chan’s knees. Chan dragged Minho down with him, and all three boys were suddenly in a scuffle on the floor, blocking you from leaving the laundry room.

It didn’t look like it could get much worse until Changbin strolled downstairs, supposedly unaware of all the commotion.

“Hey, we’re going to be filming soon—“ and Changbin was cut off as he witnessed all three boys wrestling and scrapping on the floor, with you still half-dressed behind them. Even as Changbin tried to break it up, the three boys accused him of sleeping with you as well and he was promptly dragged into the fray.

It was getting out of hand fast when Jisung finally arrived down to the basement. He stood, paused at the bottom of the stairs, and you again nearly burst into a fit of laughter at how preposterous this whole thing became. Now as Jisung entered the conflict, the boys all slowed to a stop to regard him. Comically suspicious looks were cast all around, from the boys tangled in a bruised heap on the floor, to Jisung pulling off what was probably the best performance of his life looking utterly destroyed, to you as you did your best to look as guilty as you had been. To top it all off, Jisung quietly shook his head before silently retreating back upstairs. It was a scene straight from a drama.

Seungmin came bounding down the stairs then, no doubt trying to find the cast and looking shocked at the scene he stumbled into. The boys all looked downtrodden, eyes shooting daggers as they untangled themselves and sulked back upstairs. Each of them caught your eye as they headed up, the small looks you caught ranging between bemusement to trepidation of if this would even work. Chan raised an eyebrow at you as he was finally able to grab his clothes. You were tempted to reach out, to try and tend to his nose still spilling blood, but he pulled away, seemingly in disgust as he gingerly pawed at it.

“Holy shit,” Chan laughed quietly as he turned away from the camera, “I didn’t know they had it in them.”

The finale itself seemed like such small stakes after the brawl in the basement. All the boys had a quiet intensity to them, especially after the fit the production crew threw after they had shown up bruised and beaten. They refused to tell the staff what exactly they were fighting over, so now they just sat, bandaged and extra made up, while they waited to film.

You had your own role to play, of course, the finale following some ridiculous plot where the ominous ‘headmaster’ had sent an inspector to expose a saboteur amongst their care staff. There was a chance for you, the chauffeur, and — of course — the cook to make your cases. You looked over all the boys as you stood before them, trying to decipher all their indecipherable looks.

“I wish I didn’t have to prove my innocence to you,” you told them, and it was like the cameras and crew weren’t even there as you were all assembled in the dining room, “and I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt me or distrust me. I care for all of you.”

The line girl behind the camera was bewildered at your admission, entirely improvised from what was on the script, but the director waved to signal that you were alright. Each of the boys all seemed to soften, to relax a little for the rest of the scene. Chan had a guilty smile until it agitated his nose (which had apparently been dislocated and needed to be reset before filming, much to Hyunjin’s pride and chagrin.) Minho looked pleased, either with you or himself, while Changbin still looked a bit concerned and nervous. Hyunjin was just bored by now, his ideas of acting completely thrown into perspective by all this. Jisung was harder to pin, and you still felt ultimately responsible for whatever he was coping with.

Obviously, the inspector spouted out a ton of exposition and off-screen reasoning before revealing the cook. Everyone looked the appropriate amount of scandalized before the cook was carted off by the inspector. The rest of the finale went just as smoothly, but felt so insignificant now. The boys looked humble and excited as they received their prizes and accolades, but everything was run through a filter. Did the staff see it like you did? The farewells after wrapping the show didn’t even feel final. Each embrace from them lingered, sharing meaningful looks that promised you would find them again, if only to make sure they got their cut.

Felix arrived then, the red bruise on his cheek contrasting humorously with his blue suit. Seungmin, the other staff, and even the director gave him a previously unseen gravitas, greeting him and sucking up as if he were the Big Boss himself and not just his assistant. Felix curtly congratulated the cast for wrapping the show and offered them company cars for rides. Everyone exchanged glances before tersely declining. Felix nodded, understanding, and all five boys exited with looks back over their shoulders to you as they left you in the house. You heart thumped, almost in pain as you watched them go.

The crew began to clear out as well, and soon it was just you and Felix, eyeing you suspiciously. The turnover was fast, a new crew rolling in right away to set up. Jeongin cheerily greeted you before helping light the living room. Felix was still staring you down. You approached him warily.

“Your face is going to get stuck like that,” you mused.

“I can’t believe what I saw in the raw feed today,” he glowered. He waved over a gofer and asked them for a coffee before turning back to you. “You’re greedy, you know that?”

“You’re going to be fine, Felix,” you scoffed. Felix paused as a coffee was promptly placed in his hands and he regarded it, disgruntled.

“I just have no clue what I’m going to do if I lose this job. I love my job.”

“Yeah, well,” you raised an eyebrow, “your job exploited some pretty great guys.”

Felix sighed, still gazing into his coffee cup. You took one step closer to him.

“You were exploited, too, Felix. I’m sure you’re great at your job. Don’t waste it on these people.”

The sigh in Felix’s chest renewed. He hung his head before he finally looked at you again. “You look good, by the way.”

“I know,” you deadpanned.

You sauntered away in search of Jeongin, hoping he’d be the one with your pages and a breakdown of the finale. It was certainly less fanfare and a lot less setup than the boys’ finale had been.

A host you’d never met before arrived and introduced himself, saying he loved working on your show as he shook your hand. Your finale was really an interview, where you got to pretend to be super proud of yourself and comment on the different cast members. The host’s questions were vacuous and no less exploitative than the rest of the show, and you spied Felix beyond the lights looking thoroughly miserable.

Your finale felt meaningless as well, just another step towards washing your hands of this forever, and you were grateful when you wrapped and went to change. The only significant part of your farewell was seeing your bedroom emptied of your belongings. A soft footfall at the door alerted you and you turned, finding Felix there again.

“I’m entirely on the wrong side, aren’t I?”

It wasn’t much of a question from him. You turned, now changed into a comfortable pair of jeans and a hoodie before you approached him. You set your luggage down, raising your hand to gently cup his face and careful to avoid the bruise Chan had slapped into him.

“You’re on the wrong side,” you agreed, “but you can choose to be better. Maybe I’ll run into you again someday.”

“Maybe,” Felix nodded with a reluctant smirk.

“Don’t stop being a fan, okay?” You grinned. Felix laughed before offering you a company car for a ride as he had with the boys. He wasn’t even offended as you laughed sarcastically and refused. You grabbed your bag and ascended the stairs. You walked into the living room. You walked into the foyer. You opened the front door.

And you walked out onto the street.

🎥🖤🎥🖤🎥🖤🎥

You picked a direction and walked. The house was only a block behind you, looming, when you found him. Chan sat atop his rolling luggage on the corner, flicking through his phone when he noticed you coming his way. He hopped off to greet you, only for you to breeze right past him down the sidewalk. Chan grabbed the handle of his bag and trotted after you. “Did everything go okay?” He asked as he kept up beside you. You nodded with a shrug.

“Sure. Sorry I can’t talk long; I have to meet up with a friend.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” you nodded earnestly, “I need to return something of his.”

Chan watched curiously as you fished the pendant of his necklace out from under your hoodie where it hung. “Weird,” he smirked, “I had a necklace just like that.”

“Weird,” you agreed. “Who are you again?”

It was your turn to grin as Chan dramatically slapped his forehead. “Of course; I’m terrible with introductions.” He stopped you on the sidewalk and grabbed your hand in his to shake it. “I’m Chan, but my friends call me Duckie, and my really good friends call me Chris.”

You grinned as you shook his hand. “Ah, right, Chris. I thought you looked familiar. I have something that belongs to you.”

Chan — Duckie — Chris — tried to restrain a bashful smile as you unclasped his necklace from around your neck and reached your hands up to clasp it around his. The moment it hung on him, his smile dropped. “I’m sorry again.”

“I know,” you nodded, “but you were there for me and I appreciate it.”

“I would do it all again if I had to,” Chris smiled softly.

“What,” you mused, “take advantage of a sleazy production like this to run off with way more money than expected?”

Chris nodded heartily. “In a heartbeat.”

“Sure,” you giggled as you waved down a taxi, “and while we’re at it we can make our own show that’s actually worth watching.”

“I mean, I don’t see why not,” Chris retorted. He paused as he watched you load your bag into the taxi that pulled up to the curb. He looked like he missed you already as you pulled open the door and looked back at him.

“Am I going to see you again?” He asked.

“What a dumb question,” you laughed as you waved goodbye. “Call me next time you have to do some laundry.”

#kwritersworldnet #kprosenet #skzsmutnet #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #bang chan breakdown #IT'S HERE I DID IT

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ilooklikeaburntchickenugget · 4 years ago

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Only Mine Pt. 3

A/N: I know this is a part 3, so it’s on the verge of a mini series, but I got this idea and thought it would be cool so we’re going with it. aLsO I know Instagram and most social media and modern iPhones were not around during the Black Parade era of 2007. But let’s all just pretend like they were for the sake of this fic. Also, if you have ever been to a Taylor Swift concert, I’m pretty sure you’ll understand that the entire things is based off of one, specifically 1989 (my favorite era if we’re being honest). Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Reader Words: 3,270 Warnings: Mentions of sex, a bit of swearing.

You could feel the corset back of your bodysuit be tightened and tied once again, after dozens of times. This was not your first rodeo.

Playing in front of over 150,000 people may have seemed impossible even a year ago. But the huge demand of fans and observers to see your tour led your record label to agree to send you on a solo stadium tour, something you had never done before.

“On in 5.” One of the stage crew walked back into your suite behind the stage to tell you. You nodded, looking over to your best friend, Y/B/F/N.

“You ready for another one?” You rolled your eyes and lightly laughed.

“I don’t think I was ever ready to go on a tour and play in front of this many people.” You admitted, getting up, “But I need to be.” She tightly smiled at you.

“Hey, you’re absolutely incredible at this. Like genuinely, fucking great.” She smiled. You had begged her months ago to go on tour with you as a companion. Ideally, your husband would have been the one to go with you, but he was touring at the exact same time. So obviously, that wouldn’t have worked out.

“Thanks.” You gave her a tight hug, her doing the same back, as the two of you walked out and into the main area behind the stage.

Going on tour had been exciting and fun in every way, but draining for so many reasons. You hadn’t seen Gerard in over six months until the night prior when he willingly flew in during a one week break MCR had from touring, so he could visit you. And, well, be a surprise guest for the show in New Jersey. Because who else would you have invited?

You had even put a sneak peek on your Instagram story earlier that morning, being up on your ginormous stage with a runway spanning over 70 feet and curving around so you could see everyone who was there. The free light-up bracelets everyone got helped too (if you’ve ever been to or seen a Taylor Swift concert, you know what I mean).

“Hey guys,” You smiled while recording yourself in one of your tour hoodies, during rehearsal on stage, “I’m super super excited because tonight, at MetLife Stadium in New Jersey, we have a very special guest. They’re literally one of my favorite people ever, if not my favorite person, and they’re so extremely talented. They’re so important to me, and I consider myself maybe their number one fan.” You lightly laughed before turning it off and posting it to your story.

“Already dropping hints, huh?” You heard Gerard walk the stage from behind you. You rolled your eyes.

“Of course I did Gee.” You smiled, “I’m just too excited!” He smiled back.

“How do you do this every night, by the way?” He asked, arms crossed with a water bottle in one of his hands. His hair was a mess, as per usual, and he had a jean jacket on.

“I don’t know,” You shrugged, “You just kinda get used to it.”

“It’s just so incredible,” He sighed, “I mean, genuinely, I don’t know how you do it.” You nudged him playfully.

“Oh please, Gee, you’re an absolute beast while you’re performing.”

“Makes sense, you’re the beauty.” You nudged him again, this time a little harder.

“You’re so cheesy sometimes.”

You walked out below the stage to where an elevator would lift you up onto it. Your nerves will still co-exist with your mind, as you took a single deep breath to calm you down. You and all your backup singers, dancers, and the band all put yourself in a circle, with your hands in the middle. “Ready guys?” You asked and everyone hummed and nodded with smiles, “I don’t know why but I feel like tonight's just going to be awesome.” You smiled. “3, 2, 1... Midnight!” Everyone shouted, cheering, and breaking away. The entire crew dispersed to their own areas where they would go out on stage as you prepared to be lifted up.

You weren’t sure whether it was the crowd or the fact your lover was there. Of course, Gerard has seen the show before. He was at the first one in a reserved section of the floor that was completely isolated from everyone with a minibar even where family and friends sat. And celebrities were invited. That entire show was basically you serenading him in front of almost 100,000 people by stealing glances during songs (all of which were about him) and motioning your hands and such towards that area. And you knew he noticed by the way his smile grew even wider than before whenever you did. And tonight would of course be no different.

“So what should I do?” He asked, standing next to you during rehearsal as you two began to plot and plan what would happen.

“Just be you.” You said.

“Babe,” He began, “I love you, like a lot, but I don’t know if me doing my usual thing is best.”

“Why not?” You pouted with a frown, “You’re fucking amazing on stage!” You argued.

“Because I tend to go a little wild, ya know, stage Gerard is different than normal Gerard-”

“Yes, I know, and that’s fine.” You insisted, “But, and trust me when I say this, stage Gerard tends to be more entertaining for a large crowd than normal Gerard. No offense.”

“No, you’re right,” He agreed, “But, ya know, we can get destructive sometimes.”

“Well you don’t get really destructive when you’re by yourself,” You said right back, “If Frank were here, that would be a different discussion.” He lightly chuckled, almost under his breath.

“You sure?” He asked again, “I mean, you’re a pop princess, and I’m a rock dude who kinda does random stupid shit like a 14-year-old with no understanding of what consequences are.”

“And love,” You told him, grabbing one of his hands, “That’s exactly what I want you to fucking do.”

The first part of the show went exactly as planned, everything went smoothly, and the crowd was incredible, to say the least. It seemed like everyone knew all the lyrics which made your heart flutter, and your glances and gestures towards Gerard always resulted in a little smirk or smile from it. You could’ve sworn you could see his blush through the nearly blinding stage lights.

It was time for another outfit change, this time Gerard would be backstage preparing for his section on stage, considering you had another song, then he would come on, then a few more before the finale. You crawled through some of the spaces in the back, running to the makeshift changing room. You saw him right outside, doing some vocal warm ups, but the moment he heard you he looked up and smiled, you return the gesture. “You’re doing incredible.” He told you, approaching you. You leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips.

“Thanks, babe.” You smiled, “I wish we could talk more but I gotta, ya know-” You motioned to the black box of a changing room behind you.

“Yeah, right, of course.” You ran in, stripping off your first bodysuit, with a second layer of spandex under it, with a group of three on your team getting you into your second bodysuit, this one a dark purple instead of light blue, and changing some minor aspects of your makeup like eye shadow color and lip color.

Running back out, you couldn’t help but notice Gerard’s stares of awe and confusion. “H-how’d you do that?” He asked, dumbfounded. You couldn’t help but laugh considering he had been in this business a few years longer than you.

“Magic!” You yelled back at him while running back to the stage door.

You crouched down again on the platform as it lifted you up, the music begging to play. You only had Cruel Summer, a relatively shorter song to play, before you could finally announce one of the most exciting things of all tour.

Once you finished the song you had to wait a few seconds, just standing there and smiling waiting for the crowd to settle down. “So guys,” You began, walking around the stage for a bit, “I don’t know how many of you may have seen this, but I posted something on my Instagram story today,” You smiled even more as the crowd cheered once again, “And I have a special guest for all of you to meet. He’s honestly the most incredible, genuine human being alive. I feel very lucky to be able to have in my life, and I don’t know what I would do without him. And I thought because we’re in New Jersey,” You shrugged, “There wouldn’t be anyone better to bring here tonight, so please, help me welcome Mr. Gerard Way!”

You could’ve sworn that you had heard the loudest crowds ever, but were you wrong. The moment you mentioned “Gerard” it was as if you were giving away free money, you were sure every person in that stadium was screaming to their fullest potential, it was almost deafening.

From the backstage lift your husband appeared, in his usual black jeans and leather jacket. Even better, one of your tour shirts on. You smiled at him as he smiled right back walking down the stage to where you were, the intro to Teenagers was already playing, everyone's light up bands turning red so the entire stadium was the color.

Gerard began singing as the crowd sang along. You could’ve sworn they were just as loud as you two were. What made it all the better was the level of cheers when he did his typical hip moves and bounced his leg to the beat. You could see a small smile form on his face, breaking his usual stage persona by the crowd’s reaction.

“Because, they sleep with a gun, and keep an eye on you, son, so they can watch all the things you do.” You sang next as he stopped to let you shine a bit before continuing the song on his own until the chorus where the two of you sang together.

You had to admit, you missed rock performances primarily because you could do whatever you wanted for no reason and people loved it. So naturally, both you and Gerard were jumping around and practically yelling, but the crowd seemed to love it.

Both of you stage personas took over which resulted in more PDA than usual, including a lot of close duets where you two were within an inch of one another, making deep eye contact while singing. The fans ate it up, yelling every time you two got within a reasonable vicinity of the other. Everyone seemed fascinated by the chemistry you two had, but you weren’t complaining.

By the end of the song, you two were standing next to each other at the end of the runway, smiling as the crowd roared like never before. You both looked out happier than ever, then back at each other where you smiled once again. While the crowd was still going crazy. “Can we give it up one for time for Gerard?” You asked, and even more, cheers erupted. You had never heard a crowd go this nuts before. Gerard smiled, even more, leaning in and giving you a quick kiss on the lips.

“Thank you, everyone!” He smiled, “And I have to give an even bigger thank you, to my wonderful, beautiful, talented wife beside me.” More people cheered, “She genuinely one of the kindest, and considerate people I’ve ever met. I feel incredibly blessed every day to have her be my wife, and she amazes me with everything she does.” He smiled, “So why don’t we give a quick round of applause to her too?” He turned to you and more of the crowd screamed and clapped in response. You scrunched your nose, smiling at him in an attempt to hide the growing blush on your cheeks. The two of you walked back up the runway and to the back, down the elevator together, Gerard giving a final wave.

One you two were out of sight, you looked up and just hugged him, squeezing him as tight as you could, him doing the same back. “You’re so perfect it hurts.” You told him, as he looked down at you smiling, his hand still on your waist.

“Can I be honest?” You nodded, “That was one of the hottest things I have ever seen.” You nudged him lightly, in a playful manner rolling your eyes. “What? I can’t say anything about my wife singing my song? Damn your hips were moving so right and-”

“Okay, c’mon lover boy, I’ve got a show I gotta get back to.” You reminded him, pulling away so you could get changed again. You could hear a light whine he let out in protest as you walked to your dressing room again, but you chose to ignore it.

You changed only two more times before the show was over. After the finale, you, the dancers, backup singers, and band all taking bows, you waved once more going back down to under the stage where you took off all your equipment and sighed in relief. Another successful show completed.

The adrenaline was still pumping through your brain as your boots clicked in the hallways of the empty backstage arena, into your dressing room. You first removed your makeup, redoing it to look more natural, and changing from the sequence dress you wore during the last song into a pair of jeans and a solid-colored sweatshirt.

While you were putting on one of your pairs of sneakers you heard a knock on the door. “Come in.” You responded. Opening the door, Gerard appeared on the other side, smiling and closing it behind him. “Hey.” You smiled back.

“Hey, babe.” He said, leaning on the wall beside the door. “You did incredibly amazing.” You lightly laughed.

“Thanks.” You got up from where you were sitting on the couch, walking over to him and placing your arms loosely over his arms and behind his neck. “I couldn’t have done it without my special guest.”

“Well, yeah, you probably could have-” You placed your lips on his, immediately making him go quiet.

“Just shut up and take the compliment, Way.”

“Only if you insist, Way.”

“I gotta go meet some fans.” You pulled away, grabbing your water bottle and taking a sip. “You coming with?” He gave you a confused look. “Oh, c’mon,” You grabbed his hand, “They’re gonna freak.”

You never did paid meet and greets. Instead, you had hand-selected some of the fans to meet you after the show for free or had some people in your team go and find some lucky fans who you would meet. But tonight they would get a two for one with both you and Gerard. “Stay right here.” You whispered to him when you got to the meet and greet area, you two hiding behind a curtain. He nodded.

You walked through the black felt, as all dozen of the fans looked up to you wide-eyed, one of them even screaming. “Hey, guys!” You said, which resulted in all of them screaming, and one of them began to cry. “Oh my gosh.” You looked at her. She couldn’t have been much older than 16. But when she looked up, you immediately knew who she was. “Hi, Rachel.” You said. At that, she began sobbing more. “Can I give you a hug?” You asked, trying to calm her down. She nodded frantically as you wrapped your arms around her, and she hung onto you for dear life. “Don’t cry!” You insisted.

After talking to each of them individually for a few minutes it was finally time for a photo op. “By the way guys,” You said, “I have one more surprise.” You smiled, going back to the curtain that you emerged from previously. You looked at Gerard, who got the cue to come out. Of course, the fans gasped again as they saw him standing there now next to you. “This is my husband, Gerard, he was the guy on stage with me. And he’s the lead singer of this really awesome band called My Chemical Romance.”

“Uh, yeah, duh.” One of the girls, Lyla, said and you all laughed.

One by one you took photos with the fans and the people they came with, some of them doing poses and such which both you and Gerard were down to do. You also handed out free merch bags, which had some collectible items that were exclusive to only the fans who had been invited backstage.

You said goodbye to all of them, leaving you, Gerard, and some of the team plus security behind. The two of you walked back to your large dressing room, grabbing your personal belongings, and going out back where a car was to pick you up and bring you back to the hotel.

In the backseat of the solid black car, you couldn’t help but lay your head on Gerard’s shoulder, having not done so in months. Everything from his scent to the feel of his various jackets on your cheeks always put your mind to ease. You could feel his hand on your thigh, giving it a tight squeeze of reassurance that he was there.

The car ride was silent. Not an awkward silence, but more of an enjoyable one. Just the presence of one another was enough to occupy your minds from any conversation.

Once you had reached the hotel, you two walked in hand and hand with security around you and up to your room. Inside the suite, you couldn’t help but take off your shoes and immediately sit down on the bed. “I’m really tired.” You admitted, “I’m sorry.” You looked up at your husband who couldn’t help but have an extremely confused look on his face.

“Why’re you apologizing?”

“Just because we would usually, well ya know, have sex which I’m pretty sure was on both of our agendas today.”

“Babe, you just performed a sold-out show in front of over 150,000 people. The last thing I want you to do is to worry about sex.”

“Okay,” You huffed, “I’m going to take a shower.” You got up giving him a quick kiss.

“I’ll be waiting for you, love.” He smiled. You got into the bathroom, closing the door, and stripping yourself of your current clothes. You took a quick and speedy shower. Considering your current state of being tired, you knew if you didn’t get in and out of there you would have just fallen asleep.

You changed into a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt, walking back out to find Gerard, comfortably suited on his side of the bed in his pajamas, reading a book. You went over, climbing next to you, prompting him to put the novel down. “You can continue to read with one of the lights.” You told him, feeling partially guilty.

“No need,” He said, “As cheesy as this is going to sound, I’ve been thinking about cuddling with you for months now.” He slumped down so he was parallel with the bed. You lightly smiled, moving closer. He wrapped his hands around your waist and onto your back, letting your place your face in the crook of his neck. “I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

“Thanks, Gee.” You responded, “I would’ve never gotten here if it wasn’t for my wonderful muse.”

#gerard way #gerard way fanfiction #gerard way x reader #mcr gerard #my chemical gerard #my chemical romance #My Chem #my chemical gee #my chemical romance x reader

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latenightcinephile · 4 years ago

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#658: ‘Drowning by Numbers’, dir. Peter Greenaway, 1988.

We’ll need to jump back in the count of films, and forward in time, to find Peter Greenaway’s next contribution to the list. In the grand scheme of Greenaway’s films, Drowning by Numbers is often considered to be a companion piece to A Zed and Two Noughts (1985), but I think this is a bit of an overstatement... or an understatement, perhaps. The fact is, any pair of Greenaway’s films taken together can be considered as companion pieces, and if the most recent film you’ve seen of his is The Draughtsman’s Contract, then the two seem to make sense together. A drowning (or a few), a system of organisation, and always, the women winning.

Let’s look at the most obvious things first: the film starts with a girl skipping rope and counting, naming the stars. She continues to do so, unbroken, until she reaches one hundred. When asked why she’s stopped, she replies “Once you’ve counted one hundred, all the other hundreds are the same.” Moments later, we’ll see the eldest Cissie Colpitts (Joan Plowright) walking home, passing the number 1 nailed to a tree. The count has begun. At the funeral of Jake, the first man to drown, Cissie and her daughter and niece, also named Cissie Colpitts, start to count in threes to distract themselves from grief. “What are they doing?” one mourner asks. “Counting,” Madgett (Bernard Hill) replies. “They often do that.”

The slow count throughout the film gives a sense of inexorable progression. We know when the count is complete, and when the film is over. The counting is one of the joys of this film, but it’s matched in the diegesis by games of all sorts, usually led by Madgett. Some of the games he leads are simple and easily grasped, but others, like Hangman’s Cricket, last for a full day and are closer to LARPs than any traditional sport. The counting and the gameplaying are Greenaway’s methods of categorising in this film, and almost every element of the film is made subservient to one, the other, or both.

Despite the men in this film being associated with and taking solace in rules, categorisation, and reason, Drowning by Numbers is a further development of Greenaway’s original motif - that all systems of organisation are of little help. The count from one to one hundred is, obviously, completely arbitrary. There is no reason to expect the film to end at 100, except for us being primed by that opening scene of the skipping young girl. It’s very difficult to tell whether the film is being planned out by that scene, or if the scene was written with the final goal of 100 in mind. Which part of the structure came first?

There are three Cissies, and each of them is saddled with a husband who is aloof, unfaithful, or who have simply already served their purpose. Each time one of them drowns, Madgett is called into service by the women to write up the death certificates. Driven by unrequited love for each of the women (to him, they might almost be indistinguishable), he thinks, like the titular draughtsman of Greenaway’s earlier film, that he can somehow help weave the web of lies and will be rewarded with loyalty and romance. If the men of Greenaway’s early films are aligned with reason, women are always aligned with nature - and even though nature has no rules, it is always more persuasive. Pressed by the two younger Cissies, Plowright cannot come up with a single reason why she has drowned Jake, and yet her decision to do so becomes more unquestionable with each passing moment. Throughout the film, the conspiracy of the women is brought up against the people who suspect the deaths are not mere accidents, and at the climax it seems as though they will get their just comeuppance. For that to happen, though, would demonstrate the powers of rationality, and so a combination of counting and gameplaying distracts everyone long enough for the story to reach its conclusion.

This works on the audience, too: there isn’t a great deal of realism on display here, outside of a few talented performances by the three actors playing Cissie, Cissie and Cissie Colpitts. We’re constantly being buffeted by strange images and the constant appearance of numbers: 85 on the swimming pool key; 45 and 46 painted on the backs of some dead bees; 66, 67 and 68 hammered out firmly on a deceased typewriter. Greenaway pulls in parts of another obsession of his: the skipping girl lives on Amsterdam Road; the runners who witness Hardy’s drowning are the Van Dyke brothers. Madgett’s bedroom features a painting by a Flemish master.

The levels of address bleed into each other, too, as the film grows more unhinged and bacchanalian. At the time of Bellamy’s drowning, Madgett’s fields are burning, the coroner growing despondent about his inability to seduce any of the women. Through the burning fields come the Van Dyke runners (who are always wearing their numbers, 70 and 71, even when attending a funeral), accompanied by the other members of the conspiracy against the Colpitts. They don’t acknowledge the women; they are just there, bringing one of the film’s codes crashing into another. These moments are seared into my visual memory, and they make the film a lot more significant than it seems it should be on paper.

It’s not just me this film has affected, either. The numerical structure of this film directly inspired an episode of How I Met Your Mother, and Greenaway’s visual style in this film clearly had an impact on Wes Anderson. This film is framed almost entirely symmetrically, and the camera almost never pans, but rather tracks horizontally or forward through a scene. These are mostly noticed during the funeral scenes, where Greenaway repeats this tracking motif.

While Anderson’s visual style is drawn from 1960s kitsch, however, Greenaway is playing here with the form of the British black comedy, where murder is a regrettable but commonplace occurrence. Some critics didn’t get the purpose of this film, but here is where I find it: everything in Greenaway’s films is arbitrary, but it is given meaning through its selection. Greenaway will always be interested in collecting and analysing, and elevating his choices through careful demonstration. Anything can be important if you pay it enough attention; anything can become enough to hang a film on.

#1001 movies #Peter Greenaway #Drowning by Numbers #genuinely good films

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blackcloverdatabase · 4 years ago

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English Translation of Novel 2: Chapter 3 – The Special Assault Squad Sprints Onward (Part 2 of 2)

Here’s the second half of Magna’s and Luck’s dungeon adventure! While the last chapter featured them taking care of some bandits pretending to be ghosts, this chapter’s enemy is much more formidable.

--- The Special Assault Squad Sprints Onward (Part 2) ---

“…….Alright. So, just to be clear, you guys are dungeon plunderers, and you created those monsters to chase us away…… am I right?”

“……Yes.”

They answered Magna’s and Luck’s questions as they sat on the dungeon floor, all beaten to a pulp and tied up together with a rope.

“You’re too quiet!!”

“Y-yes! We’re sorry!!”

Currently, they were in a chamber close to the treasure room. The dungeon plunderers used the route Morgan made to trespass into the dungeon and constructed their base here. However, when they were about to get ready to carry the treasure out, Luck and Magna entered the dungeon, so they created those monsters to chase them out.

Incidentally, when Morgan heard that they used the route she created to trespass, she said awkwardly,

“A ha ha…… I’m going to go search for the golem that took my grimoire.”

And escaped. However, she’ll get devoured by this dungeon if she tries to escape, so she’ll probably be back soon.

“Hmm, so those monsters were made using manipulation magic on the bones and armor here…….”

“A ha ha! That’s just what I thought. Still, don’t you think you’ll get cursed for doing that?”

Luck said with a cold smile as he looked at the ancient remains of the deceased and the full-body armor that lay piled up high in the corner of the room. Dungeons are often filed with the remains of people who tried to capture it in the past, as well as the remains of the things they wore. The dungeon plunders used those to make their skeletons and dullahans.

“And then you used voice amplification magic to make your voices monster-like, and you used smoke magic to make a ghostly atmosphere…..Damn, it’s like you’re putting on a play! What are you, some sort of monster circus!?”

“………”

“……..I don’t hear you laughing!”

“A ha ha……. Ah ha ha… A ha ha ha ha!”

Leaving such a hellish exchange of words aside, there were nine dungeon plunderers in total. Each of them had magic that would be considered “strange”, which they combined into a combo spell that created those monsters. They were also the reason that Luck couldn’t use his mana sensing abilities. One of the plunderers had Jamming Magic, which renders the use of mana perception useless while he’s nearby. However, mana perception is usable if you’re far enough away, so it’s still possible to grasp their whereabouts and launch an attack against them.

“You all kicked up such a mess…… but you’re just a bunch of old farts playing around with some bones and armor…….? Damn it all……”

“A ha ha! Now you know why I had such a bored look on my face earlier, right?”

They thought those monsters were something unknown, something that shouldn’t be here. They imagined all sorts of wild possibilities, but when they opened the lid, they saw that their enemy was the same old thugs they usually deal with. They put in so much work and time into this, but all they felt was empty disappointment.

“So? Where’s the treasure you stole? You’ve already carried it out of the treasure room, right?”

“N-no! You’re wrong! We haven’t even entered the treasure room yet!”

The plunderers shook their heads desperately in response to Magna’s menacing questions.

“W-we certainly tried to! But the door was locked…… plus, whenever we tried to get close, that thing kept getting in the way……”

“……That thing?”

“Magna-san! Luck-san!”

The one approaching them was none other than a very frazzled Morgan.

“I-it’s this thing! Anytime you approach the entrance to the treasure room, this thing attacks you!”

“…….Huh?”

They all stared at her, completely stunned. Then, they looked behind her…….

And they understood.

“I-I found the golem that stole my grimoire! Also…….”

The plunderers weren’t staring at Morgan……

“It’s totally chasing me right now!!”

[Magic power signal confirmed]

…… but rather at the black, two-meter tall, skeleton-like golem that was behind her.

“Morgan, duck!!”

The second Magna understood what was going on, Magna prepared a ball of fire in his hand. Luck, too, prepared a ball of lightning.

“Ah!? I-if you attack it……!”

Morgan tried to say something, but when she saw what they were doing, she immediately ducked her head. Luck and Magna aimed at the black skeleton, and,

“Flame Magic: Exploding Fireball”

“Lightning Magic: Thunderclap Crumbling Orb”

The balls of fire and lightning the two fired flew over Morgan’s head and landed a direct hit on the skeleton. Its enormous body spun in the air as it was blown away, and its skull crashed into the wall.

“Got ‘em!”

Since Morgan was close by, they held back. However, their timing was perfect, and they definitely hit one of its vital spots. No matter who their opponent may be, nobody could come out of that unscathed. At least, that’s what Luck and Magna thought.

“……You can’t……”

For some reason, Morgan looked at them with tears in her eyes.

“…….You can’t just attack this golem so recklessly!”

“……Huh?”

The two of them questioned, but then,

[Magic attack received. Commencing analysis.]

Pulling its head out of the stone wall, the skeleton spoke with an eerily shrill voice.

[Analysis complete. Lightning and Flame magic. Estimated output: 40%. Storing pain in memory.]

Its eyes began to glow with a silver light as it held both its arms forward. Then,

[Returning the pain. Flame Magic: Exploding Fireball. Lightning Magic: Thunderclap Crumbling Orb]

It fired two balls of magic with a thunderous roar – one made of lightning and another made of fire. Those balls of magic were exactly the same as the attacks Magna and Luck fired at it just moments ago.

“HUUUUUUH!?”

This time, Magna made no attempt to hide the fear in his voice as he ran out of the room to dodge the attack. Luck grabbed Morgan and escaped along with Magna.

“W-Wooaaaaaah!!”

“Gaaaah! Wait! The rope! Can’t you at least untie the rope!?”

Because the plunderers were still tied up, the room became incredibly chaotic, but there was no helping it. None of them were hit by the attack, so they probably won’t die. Probably.

Besides, the moment Magna and the others escaped from the room, the skeleton started chasing after them with its silver glowing eyes locked on them, and it seemed like it was going to catch up at any second. It was definitely targeting Magna’s group.

“What’s up with that thing, Morgan!? Why can it use the same magic as us!?”

He asked Morgan, who was behind him, as they were running away. She looked absolutely terrified as she answered,

“I-I’m sorry! I tried to tell you, but that golem……. It can return any attack it receives perfectly!”

Her voice trembled as tears pooled in her eyes. This must have been the fear she felt when her grimoire was stolen from her.

“Sniffle…… Moreover, once its hit by a spell, it creates antibodies and becomes immune to it, so if you try to hit it with the same attack you used before, it won’t have any effect…… Even if you put more magic power into your attack, it will create more antibodies and gain immunity in an instant……. Sniffle, and I tried attacking it, too, so…….”

Captain Yami said he fought somebody with copy magic in the cave at Nean. However, with each attack launched against this enemy, that attack will no longer be effective. This enemy’s magic is even more formidable than copy magic. In other words, their foe might be stronger than the one Captain Yami fought……

“I-I’m sorry *Hic* I just wanted to scout the area and then come back straight away, but I accidentally ran into that golem, and…… sniffle. And it followed me all the way here……”

“Seriously……?

Magna muttered as his voice shook, not hearing Morgan’s apology all too well. They were planning to enter the treasure room, so they would have to fight this skeleton at some point, anyway. However, after just battling those guys and their fake monsters, they weren’t at full power in terms of physical strength nor mana. He ate some medicinal herbs and was able to rest for a bit, but, right now, he can only output about 60-70% of his usual strength.

“If I fight that thing in this state, then……”

Magna looked back at the skeleton that was in vigorous pursuit,

“…….Then, I’ll definitely level up, without a doubt!”

He shouted with glee as he trembled with excitement.

“Huh!? What!? Level up!?”

‘How can he say that in a time like this……!’ Morgan thought. Luck seemed just as excited as Magna as he said,

“A ha ha! You’re right! Let’s take our frustration with those fake monsters out on this guy and make quick work of him!

He turned toward Morgan with excitement.

“So, Morgan-chan! Guide us to a room with plenty of space! Any room will be fine, just find one where we can have a death match with this guy!”

“And once you guide us there, run away! We’ll meet up with you after beating him!”

“B-but! I think we should all run away together…….!!”

“Also, stop crying over every little thing.”

Magna gave her a wry smile, as if he just couldn’t ignore her any longer.

“You’re wasting your time doing that. Use the physical strength and time you’d spend crying to think of a way to get us out of this mess. Unlike us, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, so it’d be a shame not to use it.”

“………..!”

……Certainly. Every time Morgan has been faced with a problem, she would freeze up, agonize over it, cry, and wait for somebody to save her. Conquering dungeons was the only thing she was confident enough about to not rely on anyone, but with just one slipup, she started depending on Magna and Luck for everything, just as she does for everything else.

……However,

“……S-sniffle.”

After blowing her nose one last time, she steeled her resolve and glared at the skeleton.

“……Let’s keep going straight.”

‘There are things that even I can do.’

“Going straight will lead us to the treasure hall, but there’s a large room right before it. That’s probably the sturdiest area in the dungeon, so you should be able to rampage as much as you want.”

There are people willing to give her a role. In that case,

“Also, let me fight, too! I promise I won’t get in your way! I’ll support you from a distance and watch for any weak points!”

She won’t cry or wait for someone to save her. She’ll look for something she can do, and she’ll do her best to fulfill it. If she doesn’t do this, she’ll remain a crybaby forever.

“……Okay!”

He wasn’t sure where this came from, but Magna grinned and said,

“If that’s what you say, then do it! We’ll devour you if you get in our way, though!”

“Yes sir!”

And so, they made their way toward the chamber before the treasure room.

“Lightning Magic: Thunderclap Crumbling Orb”

After entering the chamber and confirming that Morgan ran toward a corner of the room, Luck turned around and fired a ball of lighting magic. It landed a direct hit against the skeleton, but this time, the skeleton didn’t even pause as it got ready to launch balls of fire and lightning of its own.

“A ha ha! Amazing! Attacks really don’t work on you a second time!”

Luck smiled as he parried both attacks. Magna, too, smiled defiantly as he said,

“Yeah…… And even if we infuse more magic power into the attack, it will quickly generate antibodies against that attack, right?”

However, there was a bit of sweat mixed into that defiant smile of his.

“I was being all assertive earlier, but ……What should we do to beat this guy?”

The same attack with the same level of power won’t reach him twice. However, even if you put more power into your attack, it will quickly create antibodies against it, making that attack ineffective as well. Then, does that mean no attack exists that can hit him twice?

“Amazing! That means I’d be able to fight against it for the rest of my life! I want one for the base!”

For a combat enthusiast, such a trait seems to be a great feature.

“Well, jokes aside….. There’s no way that it can create antibodies for every attack. If we attack it so much that its whole body falls apart, there will be nothing left to make antibodies.”

“Saying that is easy enough, but……”

Magna studied the skeleton as he dodged its attacks. He wasn’t sure what it was made of, but whatever it was, it was quite hard. In addition, its whole body was covered in barrier-like magic. Destroying it won’t be easy.

“Well, it won’t be easy, but if we use our combo magic…….. and we attack it while it has a gap in its defenses…….. then I think we could break it, probably.”

“Probably!?”

Magna couldn’t help but sputter, but Luck was a genius when it came to battle. His analysis may be completely groundless, but Magna believed in Luck’s intuition.

“Yeah, but to do that, I think we should inflict a little more damage on him first.”

“…… Heh heh. Then, in the end, we’re gonna bulldoze our way through, huh?”

Neither of them were sure if they even had enough magic power left to do this, but……

“…….That’s just our style!”

“Right!”

After that short exchange, they looked at each other with a grin. To convey their intent to each other, that was all they needed.

“Alright! Our counterattack begins now, you skeleton bastard!!”

He bellowed as if to psyche himself up, holding a bat of fire in his hand as he activated his “Grand Slam” spell. No discussions were necessary. The two knew exactly how they should move.

“Lightning Creation Magic: Thunder God's Boots!”

The moment Luck shouted out his attack, lightning shaped like boots gathered around his legs. Using the thrust generated by those boots, he weaved between each attack the skeleton fired as he closed in on him.

“A ha ha ha! Let’s see what you can do against this!”

He took advantage of his momentum to give the skeleton a dropkick right on its face.

[Magic attack received. Commencing analysis.]

Luck’s attack blew it away, making its body bounce against the floor, but the skeleton repeated the same phrase it said earlier and stood back up, getting ready to fire another attack. However, at that point……

“Like hell I’ll let you!”

Magna had already circled behind it.

“Eat this!”

With a full swing, he used his Grand Slam attack, which struck the back of the skeleton’s head and caused the skeleton to spin around before crashing into the ground, leaving large cracks on the floor.

[Magic attack received. Commencing ana-

“And~ here~ we~………Go!!”

Even so, the skeleton attempted to stand up, but Luck kicked it into the air. As its body spun through the air, Luck struck it once more with a thunderous punch. He landed one final hit, launching it into the air as its body creaked.

[Magic-ic-ic attack re-received. Comm-Commencing ana-analy……]

“Magna! Now!”

“Fire Restraining Magic: Flame Rope Solid Binding Formation”

At Luck’s signal, Magna threw a fireball at the skeleton. When it landed, it turned into a rope of flame, and, in the blink of an eye, it restrained the skeleton’s body. The two coordinated their attacks perfectly, both aiming for the skeleton flying through the air.

[R-R-Returning the p-pain.]

“!!”

The skeleton cut apart the flaming rope, reoriented itself in the air, and aimed both its arms toward Magna and Luck. Generated in the palms of each of its hands were balls of lightning and flame. They were too close to dodge it. They had no way to guard themselves. Even if they unleash their combo magic, they’ll be a little too slow.

‘This is bad,’ they both realized, but at that moment,

‘R-return my grimoire right noooooooooooooow!”

Morgan threw a stone covered in her coating magic at the skeleton’s side. At some point during the battle, even though she was shivering with fear, she used her magic to support them. The stone was not strong enough to damage the skeleton. However, it did change the angle of its arm just a bit.

“……..Great job, Morgan!”

It was enough to buy them some time.

“Flame-Lightning Explosive Cannon!!!”

They shot a blast of fire and lightning at point-blank range, which smashed into the skeleton’s body, and, with a violent flash, blew its body apart.

“Eeeek!!”

The whole room shook violently, blowing Morgan away. If this room wasn’t so sturdy, the shockwaves of their attack would have certainly caused the wall and ceiling to collapse. Even though it was just a single attack, it was that powerful. If this doesn’t defeat that skeleton, then they’ll truly be screwed.

……But just as they were starting to feel relieved,

[…… Ma-Ma-Ma-Ma- Magic, Magic, Magic attack re-re-received. Comm-Commencing an-analy……]

“!!”

Though half its skull was charred black, it moved with a clatter. As they looked more closely, they realized that its bones that had been scattered by that attack were beginning to gather around the skull.

“S-seriously!? He can regenerate just like those fake monsters could!?”

“A ha ha! Hmmm, looks like it. But, I think that it will stop functioning after one more shot.”

“Why are you saying that so casually!? One more attack, you say……. I’m already all out of juice!”

At best, they only had enough mana between the two of them to fire one more attack. Plus, every magic attack in their arsenal has already been used. Even if their enemy is on the verge of death, they no longer had an attack that would work!

Magna was beginning to panic, but,

“A ha ha! What are you saying, Magna?”

Luck sounded carefree as he placed his hand on Magna’s shoulder.

“……We still have one more combo magic spell, isn’t that right?”

He said ominously as he increased the force of his grip.

“……Hey! HEY! What are you planning, you bastard!?”

“A ha ha ha! Combo magic, of course! A spell that we perfected even before the Flame-Lightning Explosive Cannon!”

“No, I wouldn’t call that combo magic! And I’m the only one who loses out from using-KYAAH!”

As Luck held Magna’s shoulder firmly, he gradually sent an electric shock throughout Magna’s whole body, all while he had a dangerous look in his eyes and a grin on his face.

“Electric Magna Typhoon!!!”

“WHY MEEEEEEEE!!?”

As he rotated with tremendous momentum, Magna crashed into the skull.

“U-um…… Magna-san. Are you sure it’s okay for you to start moving again?”

“……Yeah.”

Magna responded to Morgan’s words of concern with a slow nod. With the way his face was colored, it looked as if he could vomit at any second.

“……Electric Magna Typhoon……. Well, if you’re spinning that fast, maybe “tornado” would be a better way to describe it?”

Incidentally, Luck had been muttering things to himself for some time as he stood next to Magna, quietly enough for Magna not to hear him. Even if he picks a fight with him now, they were both too exhausted to battle.

Anyway, after defeating the skeleton, they returned to the dungeon plunderers’ basecamp and ate all the medicinal plants they could find. While they were at it, they checked to see if the plunderers were all still alive, and after a short break – which, unfortunately, did not cure Magna’s motion sickness after having used their secret technique – they made their way to the treasure room for the second time.

“So, Morgan, is the key to the treasure room really hidden somewhere in this thing’s body?”

Magna asked as she examined the skull of the skeleton they just fought. The second they arrived, she picked up the skeleton and started messing with it, but…….

“Yes. This type of golem stores important items and items it stole from its opponents in a magic space it keeps inside of its body. The switch used to eject items from that space should be somewhere……. Ah, here it is!”

As she said this, Morgan pressed the skull’s mandible with her pinky finger, and,

Clatter clatter clatter

The skeleton spit out countless relics from its mouth, ranging from clothing, weapons, equipment, accessories, and more. In the blink of an eye, the pile of relics was as high as Magna’s knees.

“A ha ha! Amazing…… But, we have to search for the key to the treasure room in all this?”

“Seriously, how many intruders has this skeleton killed?”

Luck and Magna wearily muttered to themselves while they sifted through the articles left behind by the deceased. Morgan casually replied as she returned to messing with the skull.

“But, when you think about how long this dungeon has been around, you could say that the number of people this skeleton has killed isn’t that many. There are several other golems here, so maybe they took turns standing guard. Like, if it runs out of magic power, then another golem replaces it. But, if that’s true, then it should have something like a magic power supply port…….. ah, here it is!”

After confirming that the supply port was in its mouth, Morgan held the skull out toward Magna to show him.

“If you pour magic power into here, then that should restore the skeleton’s functionality. Please give this to somebody in the Magic Appraisal Division. Of course, since its been damaged to this degree, I don’t know how much functionality will actually return, but……”

“……..”

Magna didn’t take the skull. Instead, he stared at Morgan, stunned. Though Luck continued to sift through the relics, he, too, stared at her in admiration.

“W-what is it? D-don’t tell me, once we’re finished with this dungeon, you’re going to tear all my skin off my body!?”

“No, we won’t……. anyway….”

Magna took the skull and said as if it were only obvious,

“Why don’t you join the Magic Knights?”

“……………Huh?”

In response to such sudden words, this time, it was Morgan who stared with stunned silence.

“Now that your siblings have grown up, there’s nothing left for you to do, right? Then, you should join the Magic Knights. You know so much about dungeons and golems, so I bet you’d be able to help out a lot.”

“A ha ha! I bet she would! If we’re with Morgan, then we can have fun capturing even the most dangerous dungeons! This year’s entrance exam already happened, but you should take the Magic Knights Entrance Exam next year!”

“Huh? Um, no……. I mean…… that’s just…….”

Hearing even Luck tell her this, she got absolutely flustered as she replied,

“There’s no way I’d be able to join……. I’m a peasant, and I’m too pessimistic……..”

…….Not just that.

She’s already…….

“It doesn’t matter if you’re a peasant or not. I told you earlier, didn’t I? I’m a peasant, too, and there’s a peasant even crazier than me in the Magic Knights! Hell, our Captain’s a foreigner! He won’t care about something like that!”

“A ha ha! You’re talking as if it’s already decided that she’s going to join the Black Bulls!”

“Well, is she’s gonna enter any squad, it would be the Black Bulls, right? Actually, we can probably get you in if we push for you hard enough!

As if to intercept Morgan’s pessimistic thoughts, Magna and Luck continued talking light-heartedly.

“Me and Luck can drill all that pessimism and good-for-nothing attitude right out of you! Our Captain’s also scary as hell, so even if you don’t want him to, you can rest assured that he’ll cure you of that!”

“And when he harasses you, Noelle-chan will step in to help you! She’s good at looking after others.”

“And there’s another girl on our team, Vanessa. I bet she would dote on-

Then, Magna and Luck realized it. As she listened to them speak so happily, she had a sad smile on her face. Then, tears began to pour down her face.

“……Jeez, why are you crying now? Now’s not really the time for that, is it?”

“……Huh? No……… Eh heh heh. Sniffle. It sounds like joining the Magic Knights would have been really fun…….”

She smiled at Luck and Magna as she wiped away her tears.

“We’re telling you. I bet you’ll totally pass the entrance exam, so-

“Sniffle, i-it’s not that.”

Morgan interrupted Luck as she wiped away the tears from her face,

“I’m already…….”

“……Oh?”

Just when Morgan was about to tell them something, Magna saw something sparkle near his hand.

“……Huh? Hey! Is this the key to the treasure room!?”

What he found was a key ornamented with a gaudy design. Magna picked it up and showed it to Morgan,

“……Ah.”

But her eyes fell toward a piece of paper that was fluttering in the wind.

“Ah…….Ahh, ahhh!”

Then she jumped back up and shouted with joy from the bottom of her heart.

“T-this is it! This is what I was looking for! This drawing!”

It was a portrait of a family with many children. It wasn’t drawn particularly well, but it was a warm piece that clearly conveyed how close the family was.

“…….Wait, huh? I thought you were looking for your grimoire?”

Magna asked her, completely befuddled. She hugged the drawing close to her as she cried.

“I kept this sandwiched in the pages of my grimoire……. Ah, I’m so glad it’s not torn! This was drawn by my older brother when my dad was still alive, so I’ve cherished it all this time!”

“……I see.”

Seeing this warm display, Luck nodded. Morgan’s reaction seemed a little over-exaggerated at first, but given her circumstances, it was no wonder that she would be so moved.

“So, where’s your grimoire, I wonder?”

Luck was about to continue fishing through the pile of relics, but,

“!!”

He found something else, a frilled top. It was exactly the same as the one Morgan was wearing.

These were the articles of the deceased - the articles of those who have been killed by the golem. If her things are here, then……

“……I don’t have a grimoire anymore.”

Tightly grasping the drawing in her hands, she smiled sadly at the two once more.

“After all, I’m…… already dead.”

“No no. This isn’t the time for crappy jokes…….”

Magna laughed at Morgan’s abrupt declaration, but,

“…………”

Morgan’s body slowly began turning transparent before their eyes.

“What……. The hell? What the hell!? You……. Why are you disappearing on us!? Hey!?”

“I don’t really understand it, either…… I think, since I don’t have any regrets left, I can finally move on to the afterlife……. I guess? This is the first time this has ever happened to me, so I don’t really know, but I feel sleepy, and I feel my mana leaving my body, so……”

She said nonchalantly, and then silently lowered her head.

“Um, I’m sorry for deceiving you. If I told you ‘Hello, I’m a ghost. Please help me achieve peace,’ I figured you wouldn’t believe me.”

“You’re a ghost? How...…….?”

Magna whispered, causing Morgan to make a troubled expression.

“…….Honestly, I don’t really understand how I became this way, either.”

She gazed at her own transparent body and smiled sadly.

“I know for a fact that I was killed by that golem. The moment I died, I thought……. I want to look at this drawing one last time. I felt this so strongly that my coating magic covered my own body……. After that, although my body was dead, I had successfully coated my consciousness…… and I became like this.”

“Is that even-

Magna was going to ask if that was even possible, but he did not finish. After all, her body, which was steadily losing both its magical power and its presence, was all the evidence he needed. She said that her coating magic covers objects with her mana. If she coated her own soul with her magic, and used her mana to make it take the form of her body, then it was possible…….

“No way. No way! You’re lying! Even if you managed to do all that, wouldn’t you have gone straight back to your family!? Why were you wandering around in such a dangerous place like this!?”

Magna blew up, but Morgan’s sad smile remained unchanging.

“I tried leaving here countless times, but I’m borrowing such a huge amount of mana from this dungeon that I’ve essentially become a part of it……. Whenever I tried to leave, I began to disappear.”

“…….H-Huh!? Don’t screw with me!! You should’ve just used your fighting spirit! If you pour in enough fighting spirit……. You might be able to get out! The Black Bulls’ employment conditions are pretty lax! Nobody’s going to care if you’re a ghost!”

Magna was fully aware that what he was saying was ridiculous. However, he didn’t want to admit it. He thought that the girl before him would become one of them. He didn’t want to admit that she was dead.

“Eh heh heh, sorry…….. it’s a bit too late for fighting spirit now. Now that my body is like this, it will be impossible for me to take your employment exam……. or see my family.”

She watched as her hands continued to fade away before returning her gaze to the drawing of her family.

“……That’s why, at least, I wanted to see this drawing.”

“……!!”

Magna reflexively reached for her waist and held her close. He could still feel her there as he held her. The girl named Morgan was still there, and yet……!!

“Umm….. this might be weird to hear from me, but cheer up! It’s my fault that I died, so…… I’ve already accepted my fate. I knew this would happen someday. I even worked hard so that this could happen someday.”

She smiled as she said this, but then, with a lowered gaze, she continued,

“…….But, still……”

Tears began to stream down her face.

“I would have loved to join the Magic Knights. If I was with you two, eh heh heh, I bet it would have been so much fun…….”

“……….”

Luck clenched his fists tightly, and Magna bit his lip, trying to endure the pain he was feeling. This was too sudden. Too cruel.

“……If I joined the Magic Knights, would even someone like me have been useful?”

“…….Yeah. Absolutely. You would’ve helped us out a lot.”

Luck was looking up as he replied, his replies short. He felt that he shouldn’t try to cram in too many words since she was going to disappear soon.

“Thank you……. Sorry, I’m getting really sleepy.”

The moment she said this, her presence began to diminish sharply. It was time to say goodbye.

“Well then, umm…… I’m not sure what would be a good thing to say, but, Magna-san, Luck-san, thank you for all you did for someone like me. I’m really-

“Hey!!”

Magna shouted, interrupting her final words. Then, he held up the key to the treasure room.

“…… We promise we won’t let what you left us go to waste.”

He removed his sunglasses and wiped his eyes. After doing so, he looked Morgan straight in the eyes,

“We’ll definitely use this!”

with his usual grin on his face.

“That’s why I’m telling you, there’s no reason to cry or be so pessimistic ……You’ve already helped us out a ton!”

“……Eh heh heh. Thank you!”

In response to his usual clumsy way of trying to look after her, a bashful smile bloomed on her face.

“……….”

And then she disappeared without a trace.

“……Well then, let’s open it.”

“Yeah.”

After she disappeared, the two stood still in a daze for some time. Then, they started sifting through the articles of the deceased once more. They folded her clothes and placed the drawing she had been looking for on top. When everything was over, they planned to go the village of Seitan and return her belongings to her family. Once they finished sifting through everything, they wordlessly made their way to the door leading to the treasure room.

This was all to fulfill their long-held desire. They were going to dig through those treasures and find something that might help heal Asta’s arms. That was their mission.

“A ha ha…… you okay, Magna? You can cry a little more if you want, you know?”

Luck said teasingly as he patted Magna’s shoulder. He was partly messing with Magna as he usually does, but he was partly sincere, too. It was shocking enough for Luck that Morgan was dead, but Magna’s heart was more human than his. There was no way that he would be able to accept such a sudden farewell, but……

“……We don’t have time for that.”

Magna responded to Luck’s concern by forcefully returning Luck’s shoulder pat.

“We’ll use what she left behind to help Asta. That’s the best farewell gift we can give her.”

“……Yeah.”

Being useful to someone - He honestly wasn’t sure if she was always that worried about being useful. Perhaps that line of thought emerged because she was faced with death and what she had done while she was alive. However, she certainly left behind something useful to them. He wasn’t sure if they would find something that would cure Asta’s arms. However, there had to be something in that treasure room that would prove useful to somebody. Even that skeleton’s skull that she left behind should be useful to their researchers.

Therefore, the best memorial service they could offer her was to add “meaning” to her death. To give her death meaning, there were things they needed to do. He didn’t have time to cry.

“Alright! Then, let’s fire up our fighting spirits and carry out all this treasure!”

He yelled loudly to dispel his current feelings. He put the key in the lock and threw open the door to the treasure room.

“!!”

The first thing that caught his attention was the dazzling glow of all the silver and gold treasures piled in the room, and there were just as many magic tools as there were treasures. Also,

[Magic power signal confirmed]

Inside the treasure room was another black skeleton, the same kind as the one they just defeated. In fact, there were ten of them, all saying the exact same phrase, all turning toward Magna and Luck at the exact same time.

“……….”

Magna slowly closed the door.

‘…….Come to think of it, Morgan did say that there might be other skeletons around.’

However, to think there would be so many of them, and they’re all here……

“Luck, how much mana have you recovered?”

“Hmmm……five…… no, I’d say I’m at about four percent.”

“……Me too.”

This wasn’t a question of leveling up anymore. There was no way they would be able to take on that many opponents in their current condition.

“……Then, we’ll have to do it.”

“……Right.”

This was impossible - not without surpassing their limits, that is.

“You say that, but…… A ha ha! You’re totally scared, aren’t you, Magna?”

“…….Who’re you calling scared?”

Luck covered his whole body with lightning while Magna laid his Grand Slam against his shoulder.

Even Morgan, as clumsy as she was, did her best and landed a blow against that skeleton. She surpassed the limits of life and death itself and guided them. That means, even they should……

“I’m shaking from excitement.”

After saying this, he threw open the door,

“Wait for us, Astaaaaaaaaaa!”

And the special assault squad sprinted onward into the treasure room.

--- The Special Assault Squad Sprints Onward: The End ---

I have to admit I’m generally not a fan of “oh, that character was dead the whole time” twists, but it works for a chapter featuring Magna and Luck. Magna’s one of the most emotional members of the cast, and Luck’s one of those types who understands conceptually that something is sad but doesn’t fully feel it. Seeing the two of them come to terms with her death and Luck trying to be considerate of Magna’s feelings makes for a good exploration of their characters, I think.

Anyway, this completes novel 2. The next chapter I will translate is from the first novel, and it features Yami and Magna teaching at a magic academy. And Fuegoleon’s actually awake for this one!

#Black Clover #magna swing #luck voltia #Order of Knights book #My translations

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kayliemusing · 3 years ago

Text

1: Name - Kaylie

2: Age - 23

3: 3 Fears - Spiders, failure, loss

4: 3 things I love - Reading, writing, Taylor Swift

5: 4 turns on - Kindness, nice hands, humor, someone who has a really warm heart.

6: 4 turns off - Arrogance, moustaches lmao, narcissism, basket ball shorts *shudders*

7: My best friend - Her name is Megan (but also my mom lmao)

8: Sexual orientation - Heterosexual

9: My best first date - I have never been on a date.

10: How tall am I - 5'2

11: What do I miss - My childhood mostly

12: What time were I born - 2:45 pm

13: Favorite color - Red, but sometimes a nice summery, pastel yellow

14: Do I have a crush - no

15: Favorite quote - I have so many that I can't say my utmost favourite, but one that I always think about is from Richard Siken "He was pointing at the moon but I was looking at his hand." I'm not even sure how this is supposed to be interpreted, but I just love the detail of this. Of someone looking at the moon and pointing at it, but you're looking at their hand because you're that consumed by them and also they're like your moon. anyway-

16: Favorite place - My house lol

17: Favorite food - Cheesecake

18: Do I use sarcasm - Yes, but very dryly

19: What am I listening to right now - Nothing actually. I'm just sitting in the quiet.

20: First thing I notice in new person - I used to think it was physical, like eyes or their smile, but I think it's actually their demeanor. i.e., confidence, if they're laid back, talkative or quiet, etc. Or even just how they handle things. Like when I'm at work and I meet a new co-worker I'm always noticing how they are with people.

21: Shoe size - 6.5 US but I can manage a 7 US too.

22: Eye color - Grey

23: Hair color - Ashy blonde, but I usually get it highlighted to be a brighter blonde

24: Favorite style of clothing - I'm super into the French girl vibe right now (elegany, classy, ribbed sweaters tucked into high waisted jeans or dress pants, a blazer thrown over and a nice gold necklace) but I'm also really into a summery boho look (flowy maxi dresses and skirts)

25: Ever done a prank call? No

27: Meaning behind my URL - On this account, it's just my name and then 'muses' because this account is just me talking to myself tbh. My main account is called autumnsletters which is just a combo of my fav things: autumn and handwritten love letters, and finally, my embarrassing taylor swift account is called sixteenavenue which is a lyric from her song I Think He Knows where she mentions her heart skipping down sixteenth avenue.

28: Favorite movie - I feel like i don't have one answer bc I always have a different answer to this question lmao. I think it's called A Christmas Carol (the 2009 version w/ Jim Carrey). It just makes me feel cozy and warm inside. Also: Clueless.

29: Favorite song - All Too Well by Taylor Swift I think.

30: Favorite band - Of Monsters and Men

31: How I feel right now - I actually feel really happy today, which is a change lol. I had an awful week last week, but over the last couple of days I've just felt more creative and happier.

32: Someone I love - My mom

33: My current relationship status - Single

34: My relationship with my parents - Excellent.

35: Favorite holiday - Christmas

36: Tattoos and piercing i have -0 :'(

37: Tattoos and piercing i want - I want to get my ears pierced again bc the holes grew over. Low key want a nose piericing and low key want a tattoo on my collarbone (or somewhere around there)

38: The reason I joined Tumblr - Because everyone else had it and I felt left out LOL

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other? - I don't have an ex

40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts? - No

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted? - No i've never been kissed rip

42: When did I last hold hands? - never but it's ok bc i can hold my own hand

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning? - Depending on what I'm doing. If I showered the night before and I'm just doing a very low-maintenance look, roughly 15-20 mins. On a normal day in which I shower in the morning and am trying to actually be presentable, roughly an hour.

44: Have I shaved your legs in the past three days? - Have YOU shaved MY legs? No. Have I shaved my own? Yes

45: Where am I right now? - My room

46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me? - Most likely I'm not drunk, but IF I WAS, it would be my friend, my mom, or my sister (my sister would probs make fun of me and film me tho tbh)

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level? - Loud if I'm jamming with nothing else to do but sing along. If I'm trying to do something, I'll turn it down bc I can't focus with loud music (especially if I'm trying to write something/talk to someone/text someone)

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad? - My mom bc my dads dead

49: Am I excited for anything? - My sister and I are going to Banff in about three weeks so I'm excited for a getaway.

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to? - No

51: How often do I wear a fake smile? - I work in retail so

52: When was the last time I hugged someone? - I don't know. I think I hugged my mom at some point this week lol

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me? - Bye bye babyyyy

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not? - my cat

55: What is something I disliked about today? - I had to go to work

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? - Taylor Alison Swift baby

57: What do I think about most? - Probably Taylor Swift.

58: What’s my strangest talent? - I can make stomach gurgling noises with my mouth closed.

59: Do I have any strange phobias? - Nah, pretty generic ones

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? - Behind the camera

61: What was the last lie I told? - Some lady asked if a product was good and I said yes so I wouldn't have to help her find another one

62: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? - Neither what the hell

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? - Neither

64: Do I believe in magic? - No

65: Do I believe in luck? - No

66: What's the weather like right now? - It's calm, but a little cloudy. It was really warm and sunny earlier, but it's gotten a little grey.

67: What was the last book I've read? - I just finished this series called The Winner's Curse by Marie Rutkoski and it was so good but so stressful omg. Still 5/5 stars.

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline? - Yes

69: Do I have any nicknames? - Not really, but sometimes my coworkers call my Kayls

70: What was the worst injury I've ever had? - Oh my god when I was like 10 I fell during grounders and the bar hit me right on the cooch. Most painful event of my entire life.

71: Do I spend money or save it? - Spend it bitch

72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue? - No

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me? - yes!! my blanket!!

74: Favorite animal? - I love hippos and I don't know why.

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM? - Reading on my phone to avoid sleeping so I could prolong not going to work

76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is? - Devil. Kind of like Satan The Devil is his full name

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it? - Shake It Off

78: How can you win my heart? - Learning Taylor Swift's entire discography for my sake

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone? - tbh I really don't know

80: What is my favorite word? - Wonderstruck

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr - n/a

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say? - stream fearless taylor's version

83: Do I have any relatives in jail? - no

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power? - Healing

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on? - N/A

86: What is my current desktop picture? - it's a misty forest

87: Had sex? - no

88: Bought condoms? - no

89: Gotten pregnant? - no

90: Failed a class? - yes

91: Kissed a boy? - no

92: Kissed a girl? - no

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain? - no but it's a dream

94: Had a job? - I've had two so far

95: Left the house without my wallet? - Yes, sometimes I do it on purpose so I can make my mom pay for something lmao (chill i'm talking something small like candy)

96: Bullied someone on the internet? - no

97: Had sex in public? - no

98: Played on a sports team? - no

99: Smoked weed? - no

100: Did drugs? - no

101: Smoked cigarettes? - no

102: Drank alcohol? - yes

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan? - no

104: Been overweight? - I feel overweight, but technically no

105: Been underweight? - No

106: Been to a wedding? - Yes

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight? - Yes, but not since I was younger. I'm mostly on my phone now.

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight? - Oh yeah lmao

109: Been outside my home country? - No

110: Gotten my heart broken? - Yes

111: Been to a professional sports game? - No

112: Broken a bone? - No

113: Cut myself? - Yes

114: Been to prom? - Sort of. I'm Canadian so I had grad.

115: Been in airplane? - No

116: Fly by helicopter? - No

117: What concerts have I been to? - Jonas Brothers when I was about 10 lmao and Marianas Trench when I was 15

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex? - No

119: Learned another language? - Tried to

120: Wore make up? - Yes. I do work at a makeup store.

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18? - no

122: Had oral sex? - no

123: Dyed my hair? - not a funky color, no

124: Voted in a presidential election? - Sort of; I voted for a prime minister

125: Rode in an ambulance? - Yes

126: Had a surgery? - No

127: Met someone famous? - No

128: Stalked someone on a social network? - No

129: Peed outside? - No

130: Been fishing? - No

131: Helped with charity? - Yes

132: Been rejected by a crush? - No bc I never fessed up to any crush lol

133: Broken a mirror? - No

134: What do I want for birthday? - A jewelry box

#survey

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thadelightfulone · 4 years ago

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The Firm - Chapter 14

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

Summary: Erik has been hired to find an embezzler for an old friend. Will Erik and LaNyah finally talk?

Pairing: Erik x Black!OC

Genre: Suspense

--- One Week Later ---

Since LaNyah has a late afternoon meeting with Stacey, she chose to go into work later than usual. A perk she decided to take advantage of since all her bosses wanted her at her best. She treated herself to a long and leisurely breakfast before going into the office.

LaNyah is offered a seat by the window, overlooking one of the many man-made lakes throughout the city. Before she sits, she changes her mind and requests a table outside. The waiter takes her out to one near the railing, as the wind blows through her skirt. Perfect. She nods at him as he sets her menu down and takes her drink order.

While sipping on her cranberry juice, she looks around her. It is a lovely and kool morning, and the weather should only reach the early 70s today. The sunlight is slowly rising into the sky, and she smiles. Already have placed her order, Nyah listens to the sounds around her. Parents asking their small children what they want to eat, the little excited voices asking for pancakes or juice. The wind blowing around, causing tiny ripples on the nearby lake.

Another waitress arrives with her Belgian waffle with strawberries and whipped cream and side of bacon. She quietly squeals to herself, dancing in her seat as the waitress leaves to bring back a refill on her water. LaNyah digs in, dragging bacon through syrup and humming along with the soft music playing from the speakers above her.

Breakfast finished, LaNyah sets her utensils down and leans back in her seat. She takes a few moments to close her eyes and some deep breaths. She looks at her watch and jumps up. She needs to leave now since she has another stop to make before going in to work.

Parking in the garage, LaNyah texts Stacey that she has something for her. She grabs her purse, tote, and lunch bags, with everything she will need for the day out of the back seat. She goes to her passenger side and picks up a pink box, before locking her car and heading for the lobby.

Riding the elevator to the 31st floor, she walks towards her office. She starts laughing upon noticing her visitor as she turns the corner. She shakes her head and hands her keys over to Stacey, who unlocks and enters before her. LaNyah takes her time, putting everything away in its rightful place before turning to grabby hands coming from her guest chair.

"Stace?” She gives her the pink box. Stacey rips off the top of the box, inhaling the pleasant scent of blueberry, cherry, and cinnamon.

“OMG,” she looks inside of the box, “All three? Nyah, are you trying to butter me up?” Stacey immediately reaches for the cherry Danish.

Sitting down behind her desk, LaNyah smiles while watching as Stacey moans around the freshly baked treat. “Not at all.”

Licking her fingers, “So, what’s with the bribery?” Stacey sets the box down and takes the napkin Nyah is holding out to her. Wiping her fingers, “You do not just do things. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Stacey eyes her, “Really. I just woke up in a good mood today. The late arrival allowed me just to enjoy the morning and take some time for me.”

"You know Green would still let you take more time off if you need it."

"Not like that, Stacey." LaNyah pauses as she searches for the words, "You know, like when there is a temporary change to your daily schedule.” Stacey nods at her, “Well, I used to not enjoy that. It always made me feel out of control. But today, it felt like exactly what I needed. Just some time to take in the morning since I am usually in the office as the sun breaks through the sky.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. That’s like when you have a weekday off from work. You get to see what you would normally miss at that time because you are working. It’s always nice to get a glimpse of that.”

“Exactly. I have never taken the time to do that. Even when I was off, I focused more on finding my way back to my routine.” Stacey nods before standing

“Well, I am glad to hear you had such a wonderful morning.” She picks up the box from Nyah’s desk, “I’ll see you this afternoon at the meeting.”

“Late lunch?”

“Nah, I can’t. What about dinner?” Stacey asks while opening the door.

“Sure, I’ll be ending the day with you anyway.” LaNyah waves to Stacey as she walks out while waiting for her computer to turn on. Stacey stands outside the door, looking in the window as LaNyah starts working. She turns on her heels, hoping that her boss and his wife know what they are doing.

---

Picking up the file folder from the passenger seat, Erik locks his rental. He decided to park on the executive level of the parking lot since he had a flight to catch after this. He was headed back home, and this allowed for a quick getaway. The embezzlement case for Alex wrapped up two weeks ago. He had other matters to attend to, and other people needed his help. It was time for him to leave Cali and move on. There is nothing more here for him, and no reason for him to extend his stay. The only thing Erik needed to do was send Alex the report. Which brings him to this moment, Alex wanted him to deliver it personally.

He approaches the building from the elevator, entering the code Stacey gave him for the private entrance. Erik went back and forth with Alex over the phone Friday night. His original flight was scheduled for the previous Saturday, and here it is Wednesday afternoon. Alex couldn’t see him any earlier and brought up Ashley wanting to apologize for upsetting him at dinner. Erik tried not to laugh at the man; he knew they just wanted to see him one more time in case they never saw him ever again. He couldn't blame them; he wasn't sure there was ever going to be another reason for him to return to California. Besides, if Ashley wants to apologize for souring the mood at the table, he definitely wanted to hear this face to face.

Hitting the button for the 35th floor, he stopped quickly and hit the button for the lobby. Two stories later, he stepped out and took in the familiar surroundings as the doors opened up. While standing in front of the building directory, a memory flashed before him as he saw two women running for the open car. Erik closes his eyes, thinking about the first time he saw LaNyah. Flustered and late for work, she never once looked up at him. Super focused on collecting her papers and waiting for the next elevator to arrive. It wasn't until she was getting out of the elevator that he finally got a chance to look at her when she spoke her first words to him —an apology for running him down.

Erik hears the ding for a nearby elevator car and looks down at his watch. He pushes the button and walks over as the doors open back up. He presses the 35, moves back, and stands with the folder in front of him as the car fills up. All the stops will give him time to relax and get LaNyah off his mind. He just needs Ashley and Alex to understand that he was here for a job. He did it, and now it is time for him to go even if that means burying his feelings.

He arrives on the floor, and it’s about 3:50pm, and he knows that he is early for his scheduled meeting with Alex and Ashley. But he doesn’t want to drag this out any longer. The plan is to have one last conversation with them, hand over the file, and take his leave. He can be in his own bed tonight. Erik walks over to Stacey, who didn't look up from her computer when the elevator arrived.

He taps on her countertop, startling her, "Hey Stacey, is Alex ready?" Stacey removes the headset from her ears.

“Sorry, working on a training.” She looks over at Alex’s office and notices that he is on the phone. “Not yet, it looks like he is still on the phone. Why don’t you wait in the conference room? Ashley will be here soon, too.”

Sighing, Erik nods at her and walks into the conference room. He sets the folder down where he plans to sit and continues over to the windows. Erik stands in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands behind his back as he waits for Alex and Ashley to come into the room. It'll be the last time that he gets to enjoy this view overlooking downtown Irvine. Even though it is mainly buildings at eye-level, he can see a few residential areas and parks a few streets over. He takes a few deep breaths as his mind starts to wonder.

---

LaNyah cannot wait for the elevator. She is already running late for this meeting with Stacey. She decides to take the stairs instead of walking across the department floor to wait for the elevator. She locks up her office with her notebook and a few pens in her hands. Turning left outside of her office, she opens the doors to the center stairs. She is unsure where these will open on the 35th floor, but she takes the time to think over what Stacey told her about this meeting.

Mr. Green wants to meet with both of them to discuss her future in the accounting department. LaNyah is not too nervous; he probably just wants her input on who he should get to oversee it. She knows Stacey would be the perfect choice for the position, but she knows that Mr. Green would rather keep her as his assistant. So, who knows what he is thinking about the situation.

She makes it to the door for the 35th floor and takes a deep breath. She opens it to see that she is across from Stacey's desk. Great. When the door closes behind her, she starts to walk past Mr. Green’s office when Stacey looks up at her and rushes across to her.

"Hey Nyah, I thought you were coming from the elevator," Stacey exclaims, shielding her view into the conference room. Her appearance from this side means she has to walk across the floor.

"I was running a bit late and decided to take the stairs." She stops for a moment to catch her breath. "Give me a minute." She looks down at her watch, 4:05pm. She is late. Damn.

“You’re fine. Mr. Green’s last meeting call ran over; he’s preparing to move into the conference room now. Go ahead and meet him in there, I’m on my way over.”

"Thanks, Stacey. See you inside." LaNyah walks over and notices Mr. Green's office is empty. She sees a man already standing with his back to her near the windows when she enters the conference room. She doesn't think anything of it and begins to set her things down. "Hey Mr. Green."

Erik tenses up as LaNyah’s voice reaches him from across the room. It can’t be. Why is she here? He slowly turns around and walks over to the table. She gasps and throws her hands over her mouth as he approaches the table. She takes in the neatly tailored navy suit, broad shoulders, and braided back dreads.

“Erik?” LaNyah whispers out in shock. He is standing across the room, with his hands in his pants pockets. He looks much more professional than the last time she saw him. No military fatigues covered in blood but as the businessman that she was initially met. He looks just like he did the day she met him. The day she figured out that she was attracted to him. But there is a look of surprise on his face.

He nods her way and opens his mouth, but no words come out as he looks her over. She is in a purple blouse with navy blue pants. Her light brown curls are down and framing her face. He watches as LaNyah rapidly blinks to make sure her eyes are not deceiving her, her wide eyes behind a matching purple set of glasses in a stunned expression.

“Wh- what are you doing here?” She timidly asks. And right when he is about to answer, he looks behind her and groans. All three instigators are standing at the door.

“You should ask them?” He points behind her and follows as she looks back at Alex and Stacey. Ashley is behind them and steps forward.

“We think you two should talk.” Ashley pronounces, and Erik scoffs from his end of the table. He opens his suit jacket and takes his seat at the table. LaNyah has not turned back towards him; she is stuck looking at her boss and friends.

“I- I don’t understand. What is going on?” LaNyah has a death grip on one of her pens. It suddenly snaps in her hand —the sound echoing through the quiet of the room.

Alex speaks up, "It is as Ashley said. We just think that the two of you should have an open and honest conversation with each other." He looks over at Erik. If looks could kill, he knows he would be a goner. But it was the only way they could think to get them together.

LaNyah looks them all over, Mr. Green and Ashley do not look ashamed of their actions. But she shakes her head as she gets to Stacey, who is looking anywhere but at her. Wow, so she knew this morning and didn’t say anything at all. Without a word, Nyah drops down into the seat in front of her. It is conveniently all the way across the room from Erik. They will have to project to hear one another. So what, she doesn't care.

Ashley grabs Alex’s hand and taps Stacey’s shoulder as they make their way out of the conference room.

LaNyah’s hands are in her lap, playing with the belt tie on her blouse. Erik watches her for a few moments. What is he supposed to say to her? She hasn’t even looked up at him since she sat down. He closes his eyes and runs his hands over his dreads. He never thought they would blindside the both of them, just to get them in the same room. He opens his eyes and discovers she is still staring a hole through the table.

“Uh, hi LaNyah.” He starts, “How have you been?” She quickly glances up at him then drops her eyes again. “You look good. Real good.” Erik can see her mouth curve up and then just as fast straighten out into a tight line. "How have you been? You know, since we last saw each other." He tries again, but there is no reaction from her now.

LaNyah follows her fingers as they move along the peplum edges of the blouse. He is here and for her, but why. She continues to hold her head down even as he tries to talk to her. She knows he is trying, but she doesn't know how to feel right now. How is it that she is both relaxed and scared at the same time? Her eyes glaze over, and she starts sniffling. She doesn't know when it happened, but hot tears land on her hands. Her breathing is calm, but Nyah can't help the little sounds she makes as she silently cries.

He hears LaNyah’s quiet sobbing and watches as she pulls her glasses off to wipe at her eyes. She is crying, and it's all because she is not comfortable with the situation, and with him. He figured she wasn't ready, and now he doubts if she ever will be. Erik knows he needs to let her go. There is no more significant sign than what he is witnessing.

Erik gets up and walks out of the conference room, making his way to the coffee machine. He waits as the water heats up and pulls down a mug. Looking over the choices, he grabs lavender and chamomile tea putting it into the machine as Stacey taught him. As Erik observes LaNyah replacing her glasses on her face, he gathers all the other things that he needs. Some honey packets, a spoon, and a few napkins.

The machine chimes letting him know the tea is ready. He collects all the items and brings them into the room. He walks over to LaNyah, and standing off to her side; he places them all next to her. Erik walks over to where he was sitting and grabs the report from the table. He walks to the inner door leading to Alex's office and puts the folder on his desk.

He looks around the office before walking to the elevator. While he waits for the elevator, he turns back to LaNyah in the big conference room. She was drinking from the mug, which makes him smile a bit. As the bell of the elevator's arrival chimes, she looks up in his direction. "Sorry, I'm not the man you wish I was," Erik speaks low, unaware that LaNyah could hear him.

---

“How do you think things are going?” Stacey asks Alex and Ashley. It’s been about 20 mins since they left Erik and LaNyah upstairs together.

“Only one way to find out,” Ashley replies as they all get off the elevator to the 35th floor. Looking through the windows, they all notice LaNyah standing in front of the windows, staring out with a mug in her hands. Ashley rushes forward into the conference room first. “What happened?”

LaNyah slowly turns around, her eyes puffy and red from her tears. She sets the mug down on the table and takes a tissue from the box; she blows her nose and walks towards them. “You want to know what happened?” They all nod their heads in unison. “Nothing. Absolutely, nothing.”

“Where’s Erik?” Alex asks, and LaNyah shrugs her shoulders. “He just left you here? Did he say anything before he left?”

LaNyah stops right in front of the trio, shaking her head. Her small hands curling into fists beside her as she looks at them. “You really don’t get it, do you?” Her chest is heaving as they all return blank stares in her direction.

“LaNyah, what are you talking about?” Stacey speaks first.

“I WASN’T READY!!!” She stomps her feet on the carpeted floor. “I wasn’t, I wasn’t ready. And you all knew that.” She points her finger at them accusingly. “But you knew that and tried to force the issue anyway. And you!” She turns to Stacey, “Why didn’t you say something to me?” Stacey can no longer hold Nyah’s stare and looks away.

“We just wanted you two to talk; you know after everything.”

“There is something you should know.”

“We didn’t mean to push so hard.”

“No, you don’t get to try and explain yourselves after the fact.” She moves away and sits down, picking up her mug of tea. Drinking it, she smiles through her anger. She waves to the chairs near them; they all move over and take seats across from her.

Nyah tells them about Erik trying to start the conversation and her being non-responsive. How she started quietly crying and him hearing it from across the table. He got up and made her a cup of tea, even included anything she might want. She takes another sip while discussing his thoughtfulness. She tells Alex he left something in his office and then headed for the elevator, finally leaving. "He mumbled an apology for not being the man I wanted him to be or something like that."

“Oh Nyah,” Stacey exclaims, “I’m so sorry about this.”

“Don’t be mad at her, Nyah.” Ashley speaks up, “I talked these two into it. And you know how forceful I can be. They only did it for me.”

“Stop. Just stop talking.” LaNyah stands up and starts pacing near the windows. “I-” she takes a deep breath, “I, I haven’t been completely honest with you. And I think that came out today.” She plays with her fingers while looking out over the city.

“It’s ok, sweetheart, but what is going on?" Alex gently asks.

“Well, I have been having nightmares about the kidnapping.” They all share a knowing look. Ashley explained it would be a normal response for someone like her. This was the reason she was happy about her keeping a new journal for the incident. "Erik saves me from Gina every single time." LaNyah turns towards them, "It doesn't matter where I am or how I got there. He always comes to my rescue."

Ashley and Stacey smile at this confession. She didn’t hate him, and she probably wasn't even mad at him anymore. She just didn’t know how to deal with her growing feelings for him. Ashley stands up and walks over to LaNyah. “That was Alex for me. He has always been my greatest protector.” She looks over at him, her love shining through her gaze.

“Yeah? So, even when you aren’t talking to him because maybe you are mad about something. You still feel safe in his presence?” LaNyah questions.

"Always. I may be mad at him, but that doesn't mean Alex will stop protecting me or making me feel safe whenever he is around. That doesn't go away."

“LaNyah, how did you feel with Erik just now?” Stacey asks.

“It was the safest I have felt since you all rescued me from Gina," LaNyah admits. She looks at Ashley, who is standing next to her, "Can I ask you something?"

“Sure anything.” Ashley sits down, “Why don’t we have a seat?”

Nyah sits next to her. She looks at Mr. Green and then back to Ashley, “Was Gina telling the truth? You know about the assault and Erik killing her brother.”

Ashley closes her eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply, "Yes, she was." She takes LaNyah's hands, "Remember when we first met, and I told you I had my own story." Nyah nods. "I was going to tell you when we found out Gina was involved with the embezzlement, but that was the same day Erik discovered that you were missing."

Ashley tells LaNyah about Alex and Erik watching over her from day one when they were first assigned to McCoy's team. She explained her history with him and how she was grateful that they took to her like they did because she felt safer with her brothers in arms around. When they found her after McCoy sexually assaulted her, the two of them did their own investigation into his background and knew he was guilty. While she was recovering back home, she found out that he was killed during an ambush.

Alex chimes in and tells Nyah that he actually found Erik right after he killed their commanding officer and helped him cover it up. He had stayed in touch with Ashley even after the team was separated and sent home. Eventually, telling Ashley what she already knew, that Erik killed him for her. Alex walks over to LaNyah and sits on the other side of her.

“I didn’t hire Erik to work with you, LaNyah. I hired Erik to protect you from whatever we all uncovered during the investigation.” He tells her that he knew someone was stealing from him long before she discovered it and brought it to him, and he knew they were trying to pin it on her. He was too close and needed someone completely outside to keep her safe while he continued his investigation.

“Oh, so he was my bodyguard?” She giggles at that.

"Well, he prefers personal security, but yeah, he was." Alex laughingly replies.

“Is.” Stacey tries not to laugh at Ashley’s interjection.

"Wow. So, all of Erik's actions were him taking care of me and keeping me out of harm's way."

Everyone nods at LaNyah while she sits in thought.

---

Erik exited the front doors of the building instead of heading to the parking garage. He wasn’t ready to leave just yet. But he needed to get out of there. He closes his eyes as the afternoon sun shines on his face. He decides to take a stroll down the main street to get a little fresh air.

While making his way into the more residential area of the city, his mind drifts to LaNyah. The reason that he is running. When he met her a few months ago, he just thought she was cute, and that would be the end of that, especially after Green explained her connection to him and his real purpose for being there. It was easy for him to lock her in a Do Not Touch box and never overstep those boundaries. But he never expected to fall for her.

LaNyah wasn't the only person shocked by what happened this afternoon. Erik was just dropping off the report and saying his final goodbyes. He didn't plan to say anything about leaving since LaNyah hadn't spoken to him unless it was work-related for a while now anyway. Why should it be different now, even if he did lead the effort to rescue and save her from Gina? It was all a part of his job. He chuckles to himself.

Erik figured he would be back home, back at work, and could put LaNyah back in her original place in his mind – Do Not Engage. But seeing her again after everything that happened. He wasn't ready for any of that. He runs his hands over his face, it had only been a few weeks, but she looked really good. Well-rested and back to her old self again. He meant what he said to her. But he didn't know what else to say to her. If he wasn't expecting her, then there is one thing he is sure of, that she definitely wasn't ready to deal with him either.

Yet being there together, in a room that they have both spent a lot of time in, he could think of nothing else but her. Something about being near her—the best way to describe it was the energy that she carried into a room; it was dazzling and always seemed to put him at ease. He could have stayed there in comfortable silence, and it would not have bothered him because he was near her. The only thing that changed that was hearing her in distress. It reminded him of everything that she had been through recently.

The last time she saw him, he was covered in blood, and he was someone who hadn’t surfaced in years. He was not the Erik she grew to know even if she was mad at him for being unnecessarily callous during the investigation. She did not know the man who showed up to rescue her a month ago. And he never wanted her to know him like that.

Erik has no idea what altogether Gina told Nyah about him and what he had done as Killmonger. He knows what he heard and saw when he was in that basement. What he does know is the looked that has haunted him for weeks. LaNyah's deer in headlights expression as they rush forward guns trained on Gina and, by extension, her. The way she flinched whenever he came near her.

He shakes those thoughts from his head. Erik stops in front of a sidewalk bench surrounded by trees marking the entrance of a park. He takes off his suit jacket and lays it behind him before taking a seat to watch the cars drive by. LaNyah was still afraid of him, and he couldn't blame her for not wanting to be in the same space as him. He never wanted that for her, but he doesn't regret his actions for one moment. If only, he had the opportunity to explain what he did for Ashley all those years ago.

Erik is good at a lot of things, but caring for someone while protecting them is not one. It is foreign territory to him. It has always been so straight forward. When someone hires him for protection, he cares about making sure he keeps the person safe per the contract. It was all good when Green told him that she was the favor – he wanted him as her personal protection/security. That was something he could handle; it left her off-limits. But for some reason, he never found his footing during this case to keep things separated.

She found a way into his heart just like Ashley did, but in a way that only Green understands. Cute, jumpy, and innocent LaNyah Cole captured the affections of cold-hearted Erik Stevens. He found her beautiful immediately, even with their first interaction in the lobby. Then he got to know her, and all he could think about was keeping her out of harm's way. Never letting anything happen to her and not just for work but for however long she needed it. He watched her try new foods, build a friendship with Stacey, her growth as an individual during Ashley’s absence – finding strength in herself.

He knew the moment he fucked up in her eyes, but he couldn't take it back, and she wouldn't talk to him long enough for him to apologize. But what could he really say, I like you, but you are a job and I shouldn’t. So, I am doing this the only way I know how; I need you to hate me. And yeah, I know you like me too. Erik slaps his thighs, “IDIOT!” He chastises himself.

If only he had found the courage to tell her how he was feeling, he could have been there like he was supposed to and prevented her from being kidnapped. Instead, Erik came clean to everyone else only to find out Gina already had her. The first job he ever fucked up, and it would be because he couldn't deal with his own damn feelings about his charge. This was why he had to leave and forget all about LaNyah.

---

Suddenly, LaNyah’s eyes go wide as she looks between Alex and Ashley. She stands up from her seat and walks over to the windows. She stares out of them before looking back to the trio. Fiddling with her hands, she asks, “How much does he know about what happened to me?”

They all exchange looks and silently choose the one who will answer that loaded question. Alex looks at LaNyah, “He completed a background check on you.”

"So, he knows about the incident that brought me to Ashley's care, too?" Ashley sadly looks at LaNyah, confirming her worst fears. She blinks away the tears, "Of course, he does."

“What do you mean by that, sweetie?” Ashley looks up at her.

LaNyah walks towards the door, and everyone follows her. “I need some air.”

“Nyah?”

“I’m ok. I just need to think outside of this space.” She hits the elevator button, “I promise I’ll be back. I just need to be alone right now.” She quietly waves at them as the doors close.

“Does it sound like they just switched positions?” Ashley asks.

"What?" Alex looks at her, confused while Stacey moves towards her desk.

"Yes, yes, they did," Stacey responds to Ashley's question, turning towards them. "Erik is gonna continue to avoid LaNyah, and she is now afraid that someone will not want her if they know her history."

“So, we made it worst rather than making it better.” Alex states. The ladies nod at him.

LaNyah makes it to the lobby of the building and decides to take a walk. Her autopilot leads to her favorite park a few blocks away. She didn't think she was walking that fast, but she made it in record time. She usually sits at one of the tables to eat her lunch or read. But once in a while, she comes for the swings. Today was definitely a swing day, and no one is over there, so she walks over and sits on one.

Placing her hands on each chain, she slowly pushes off, pumping her legs a few times to get some height. LaNyah just swings back and forth, steadily climbing higher in the air. As she feels the breeze against her face, she feels herself calming down. She swings and enjoys the quiet surrounding her. Since it's late in the afternoon, there is no one around, and she has the little park all to herself. As she inhales, she swings back and swings forward on her exhales. She keeps this up for a few minutes before crossing her legs and turning the swing side to side.

As she changes direction, her mind goes back to what Alex said to her. Erik was hired as her bodyguard. She laughs, thinking about how horrible a job he did on that part. But then again, Nyah wasn't talking to him when it happened although he had been trying to apologize. Who knows how things may have gone if she just spoke to him instead of running away and letting her anger control her response to him.

She knows there is more to her reaction than just being angry about his accusations. I like him. I have always liked him. That’s why it hurt so much. LaNyah had never actually liked someone before, and this was new for her. She was never truly angry at him, but mainly disappointed in how he turned on her.

It didn’t make any sense though, Mr. Green made it clear to him that LaNyah was not involved, and Erik said he believed her. So, for him to do what he did even if he didn’t know about the crush, really bothered her. Maybe more than it should have. The betrayal she felt at that moment, she knows it was ok to feel that way. He caused that, but he had been trying to do right by her ever since. Almost like he knew he fucked up somehow and wanted to make things right.

She stops twisting on the swing, and to now find out he knows about everything that she has been through. LaNyah focuses on the ground below her. But Erik never once treated her like she was fragile, unlike Mr. Green, who was getting better about that. He just didn’t act like anyone she knew, and along with Stacey became someone she trusted. Nyah always enjoyed being around him even if it was for work. She giggles as she drags her feet along the ground. Yes, even when she was not talking to him, she wanted to be around him.

Erik was always a place of comfort for her. And honestly, he still is. LaNyah had no idea how much until she was in the same space as him this afternoon. She made herself scarce for weeks just to avoid running into him. But for what? Ashley’s right. He is still acting as her protector.

When he noticed that she was not gonna talk to him and was clearly uncomfortable, he made sure she was ok before he left. He is still taking care of her, even though his job was over. She flattens her feet at that thought. Why did he leave like that? And what did he mean before he got on the elevator? “I have to talk to him.”

LaNyah stood up from the swing and looked up towards the sky. The sun was setting, and she could see the beautiful swirls of orange, pink, and purple along the skyline. She exits the park and walks along the main street back to GBI. Stacey is probably waiting for her since they were supposed to do dinner tonight. "I bet Erik is on his way back home. I scared him away."

She walks past another of her outside spots. It is the same lake from this morning, in the middle of a section of houses. Sometimes, she stares out into the water, which was moving due to the air around them. She senses something around her and slows down to take in her surroundings. Looking around, she spots some business guy walking down the street far from her. LaNyah turns back around, satisfied that it is just someone else taking a late afternoon stroll.

---

Erik notices the sun setting. He looked at his watch; he had been sitting on that bench and watching cars for over 20 minutes. He stands up, grabbing his jacket to put back on, and stretching his limbs out. He needs to go back to GBI and figure out his plans for the evening. It's time for him to leave California finally. His phone has been on silent, and he forgot to send a message to the pilot. "Damn," He checks his voicemails while walking back towards the building.

Standing at a streetlight waiting for his turn to walk across, Erik looks up, noticing he is about three streets away from the building. The pilot just told him that he could pick him up in the morning because he took another ride when he didn't hear from Erik by their scheduled time. He makes another call to see if he can go back to the condo for the night when something sparkled across from him. He looks up the street towards a lake in the middle of the houses.

The lamps on the walkways on either side of the lake are what caught his attention. They were casting shadows on the rippling water. As he continued walking, he saw someone walking along the same main street as him just on that side. The woman looks like she is dressed in business attire like him. She stops at the crosswalk, and Erik can just make out her features in the low light of the overhead street lamp. Glasses and curls, it can’t be?

He runs to the lights on his side, catching them in time to run across the street towards her. "LaNyah!"

Nyah looks around when she hears her name, stepping back from the edge as she notices Erik running towards her. He must have been the guy across the street. She smiles at him as he slows down and steps up onto the sidewalk with her.

Erik looks down at her as she continues to smile up at him. A genuine smile towards him -- the same smile that captivated him from the beginning. He can't help but smile back at her. He was about to ask her what she was doing out.

“Can we talk?” LaNyah blurts out now that he is right in front of her.

“Uh yeah. Yeah, we can.” He sputters out. Before he can ask where they should go, LaNyah turns around and walks off. She looks back at Erik, waving for him to follow her.

They fall into step together as LaNyah leads him to a bridge near the lake that they both passed. Walking onto the bridge, it leads to a gazebo with a couple sets of benches around. They are alone at this of day. He follows LaNyah to the railing, where they stand in complete silence for a few moments looking out at the water.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” They both speak at the same time and then look at one another.

“What are you apologizing for?” Erik asks LaNyah.

“Why are you?” She responds. They both laugh uncomfortably. Erik nods to her, letting her lead the conversation. “I’m sorry for how I have been treating you since the interrogation. I had every right to feel that way at that moment. But I dragged it out a lot longer for reasons." LaNyah starts playing with her hands before looking back at Erik. "I know now that you were just doing your job, protecting me."

Erik closes his eyes at that, “So, you know why Alex really hired me?”

"Yes, and I appreciate you shielding me from all that you did. I just didn't understand it, and I have been making you pay for it. And for that, I am sorry."

“You have nothing to apologize for, and I should have told you about that. But I didn’t want you to worry any more than you already were about what was happening at GBI. And it was going well until the interrogation,” Erik shakes his head looking down.

LaNyah grabs his arm, “It’s ok, Erik, I understand now, and I am glad that I had you as my protector through this whole ordeal, whether I knew it or not."

Erik leads her over to a bench close to them. He helps her sit down and looks at her, “LaNyah, are you sure about that? You may know that part now, but I know what I saw when you looked at me when Gina had you.”

LaNyah quickly blinks and runs her hands along the edge of her peplum top. "I'm not afraid of you, Erik." He lets out a breath that he didn't even know he was holding. "I feel safe with you."

Erik slowly stands to his full height, blinking away the tears that were threatening to fall. He starts to pace, “LaNyah, there is something that I need you to know.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“I need to, I need you to understand.” Nyah looks at him, and she can tell this is something that has been weighing on him heavily. She nods at him to continue, “I did kill Gina’s brother, but I did it because of what he did to Ashley. He deserved to die.”

“I know.”

Erik looks over to her, “You know?”

“Yeah, Ashley and Alex told me before I walked out.”

He stops in front of her. "Why are you out here anyway?"

“I needed some fresh air after everything they told me. It was a lot.” Erik nods in understanding. “I know you know my history, Erik. Alex told me you ran a background check on me.” He exhales loudly, about to say something when Nyah stops him. “It’s ok, why wouldn’t someone investigating an embezzlement case look into everyone including the patsy.”

Erik is stuck watching her and how calm she is about everything she learned today. This is the woman he has grown to care so much about over the last few months. LaNyah, who has become stronger both mentally and emotionally right before his eyes, but he was too focused on the job to see it. And the best part, she’s not scared of him. She said she feels safe with him. Nothing he has ever heard sounded so good to him until hearing those words come out of her mouth. There is no way he could ever forget a woman like LaNyah.

Nyah is watching him back, just as intensely. He looks like there is so much on his mind. She has been there before, lots to say, and no idea how to start it. She wants to be that peaceful place for him as he has been for her, even if it is as a listening ear. She pats the open space on the bench next to her, "Sit down and let me know what's on your mind. You look like you are about to bust."

Erik takes the seat, and while getting himself together, he takes a deep breath before making eye contact with her, “I need to apologize for my actions during my interrogation of you. I didn’t mean to attack you like that.”

“Erik, that’s not necessary. I get it.”

“No, no, you don’t. I did that to protect me, not you.” LaNyah looks at him, confused. Erik continues, “I thought if you were mad at me that I could do my job, and nothing else would get in the way.” He looks down and away from her.

It is quiet for a few moments before Nyah taps his shoulder, getting him to look back at her, “I am not good at this kind of thing, and I was scared.”

“Scared of what, Erik?”

“My growing feelings for you.”

“You like me?” LaNyah looks up at him to see if he was serious, the look she saw on his face took her breath away. “Ummm, really? Wow!” She exhales, and Erik softly laughs at her reaction.

“Yes, really. I like you, LaNyah. And since I don’t know how to do feelings and relationships –“

“You tried to scare me away.”

“Yeah.” He takes her hands, intently looking at her smaller hands in his – Nyah's palm side down and his palm up under hers.

Nyah's heart starts beating faster, and she feels her heart bloom. He likes her, too. This gorgeous man who can have anyone he wants, but he wants her. Even with everything she has been through and how she is. She looks as he holds both of her hands in his. His much larger hands encasing her smaller ones with such tenderness and care. She looks up to see a matching look in his eyes.

LaNyah hums, nodding her head. Erik looks out at the water. She squeezes his hands, bringing his attention back to her. “You almost succeeded.”

He sighs, “I know, and I regret that because my actions left you vulnerable. I couldn't protect you when it mattered the most, and that bitch got to you.” Erik weaves their fingers together.

She scoots closer to him, “But you immediately dropped everything and came looking for me, right?” He nods “and saved me from a crazy woman hellbent on destroying every person I cherish.”

“Yeah, Ashley and Alex.” He says.

Looking down at their interlocked hands, she clears her throat, “And you.” Erik looks over at LaNyah, who is smiling at him. “I like you too, Erik. But something tells me you already knew that.”

He smiles back at her, “I figured as much.” She bumps his shoulder, not wanting to let go of his hands. "Ok, ok. Yeah, I knew."

“So, am I the last to know?”

“About what?” He knows what she is asking but wants to hear her say it.

“Erik,” she groans. His shoulders shake as he tries to hold in his laughter. “Am I the last to know that you like me?” She suddenly stops, “Wait! Am I the last to know that I like you?” The look at her face as she asked the latter questions brings tears to his eyes.

His deep dimples appear, and he can no longer keep it together, “Yeah, you are.” Erik's full robust laugh reaches her ears, and Nyah shakes her head, of course.

LaNyah snatches her hands away from him, laughing as she stands up and walks back over to the railing. Erik walks up beside her, and they both peer out over the water, watching the lights turning on along the walking paths. She shivers as the cool night air settles over the two of them. He takes his jacket off and drapes it over her shoulders, and watches as she pulls it closer, inhaling his scent.

“So, what now?” He watches her big brown eyes gaze up at him, as she wonders where they go from there.

“I don’t know,” he opens his arms, and Nyah walks into them, “but why don’t we figure it out together?” Erik wraps his arms around her and settles his chin on her head.

She turns her head to the side against his chest and replies, “I’d like that.”

Epilogue

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#erik killmonger #erik killmonger x oc #black panther fanfiction #the firm #thadelightfulone

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