#i could literally entertain myself for days just going back and forth between this and wiki pedia | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rxqueenotd · 10 months

Text

The Girl Next Door part IV

Pairing: Jeryd Mencken x OFC

Warnings: sexual content, dubious content, age gap, read the previous tags and use your imagination.

A/N: this chapter was only partially beta’d, so forgive any mistakes. Also I have an issue with using commas where they don’t need to be used.

WC: 2250

That night I fell asleep to the soundtrack of my delusions. My mind ran amok with thoughts of him. Of his hands. Of all the places I wanted them and in what manner. The thing that drove me over the edge was the blue of his eyes and the intensity in which they had looked at me.

I woke aimlessly the next morning, thrashing in bed, absolutely burning for him in ways I had never experienced.

When my phone rang, I picked it up in an alarmingly quick fashion. It was Heather, informing me that the waterline break at The Marina wouldn’t be fixed for about two weeks.

“I felt like Rose floating on that fucking door when I tried to go downstairs,” she laughed out, “seriously, it destroyed so much!”

I thought about offering to fix it myself. Anything to get me out of the house and away from my own self. For a brief second, I entertained telling her about the debacle I had been through, eventually talking myself out of it as she droned on about how something like this would happen to her the first year she had managed the restaurant on her own.

When I finally pulled myself out of bed, I climbed into the shower, turning the dial to the hottest setting. I scrubbed at my skin, along the path his hands had roamed and when I felt myself get turned on all over again, I quickly adjusted the dial to the coldest setting and water boarded myself.

Nothing seemed to help. For the second time in two days, I laced up my tennis shoes and barreled out the door. I decided to go a different way that day. I veered to the left at the end of my driveway, setting a grueling pace. Unknown territory, or at least not as familiar as my old path. My usual journey took me through the residential area, the shade of the trees offering protection from the blistering sun on most days. Whereas left took me towards town, weaved in and out of traffic, and offered little to no protection from the weather. Had I been paying attention, I would’ve noticed the overhanging gloom. Hell, I might have even checked the weather channel. But I hadn’t been, trying to derail my one track mind had taken over most of my common sense. When the first rain drop hit the bridge of my nose, I shook it off. I hadn’t noticed the impending deluge quite literally making its way towards me. It was evident in the way the sun still shone, brightening the steaks of rain directly ahead. When it finally hit, coming down like daggers against my exposed skin, there was nowhere for me to seek shelter. I was at the halfway junction between the downtown area and the residential area, a void that existed between the two, which coincidentally, was exactly how I felt about my life.

I stood there, frozen, and let it soak me. I would’ve stayed there all day had a bolt of lightning not hit a little too close for comfort. I could barely hear the thunder rolling over the sound of my roaring heart in my ears as I took back off towards the shelter of my home.

“Liv!”

I didn’t stop at the sound of my name, better yet, I didn’t stop because of the voice calling my name. It was no use, though, and within thirty seconds, he pulled up beside me, crawling slowly enough to keep up with my pace. He rolled the passenger’s side window down, his gaze flitting across my face and back to the road in succession.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but it's coming a pretty nasty storm right now.”

I put my arms out beside me and felt the shards of rain pierce my skin once again.

“It’s just a little rain.”

“Get in the car, Liv.”

“Really, I’m good.”

“Get in the car, Liv.”

Back and forth.

I shook my head and continued running.

“Get in the fucking car, Olivia.”

That stopped me in my tracks.

I turned to him, wiping the rain from my eyes, and put my hands on my hips.

“Not sure if you’ve noticed but you and I cannot be trusted in small, confined spaces. Hell, I might even be gestating by the time I climb out of your car next.”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes, “Stop being dramatic and get in the damn car before you melt, Olivia.”

I didn’t like the formality of his tone when he said my full name. I sighed heavily and yanked the door open, sliding onto the cold, stale leather seat.

“Your kind melts, you know,” under any other circumstances, I would’ve laughed, but at that moment, any crack in my surface would’ve let the light spill in, and I needed to brood.

“If the wind picks up a little more, you might be in danger of a house dropping on you.”

“Just take me home.”

He sped off, making sure to roll my window up in the process.

“What’s wrong with you?”

I wrapped my arms around my middle, my sports bra and running shorts giving me no protection from the blasting air conditioner, and peered over at him.

“The Marina is closed for two weeks because of a waterline break and I’m unemployed. I just got trapped in a fucking monsoon. I don’t know, the list seems to go on.”

I watched as he leaned slightly towards the back seat, left hand still gripping the steering wheel, as his right hand felt around blindly in the backseat.

He dropped his blazer onto my lap.

“Put it on,” he adjusted the heat setting and looked back at me, “or freeze, your choice.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll ruin this if I put it on. I’m soaked.” I held up a strand of my hair and watched as water droplets leaked out onto the center console.

“I can have it dry cleaned.”

I reluctantly slid the blazer around me. I felt clownish, like a little kid trying on their parent’s clothing, by the way the sleeves hung over my hands. The entire thing basically made a dress on me.

“Come work with me,” he said.

“What? I don’t think I’m qualified to work with you.”

“Think of it as an internship. Grade a few papers, take notes, get coffee, make a PowerPoint or two.” He looked over at me and arched his eyebrow. “Surely you could do that.”

“Once again, I’m not qualified.”

“I can take care of that,” he turned right into his driveway and put the car in park. “Just think about it.”

_________________________________________

I thought about his offer for the rest of the afternoon. Weighing the pros and cons in my head, checking each box and then mentally striking through it all. Outside, the storm continued to rage, taking a dire turn around sundown, when thunder shook the house, plunging the entire neighborhood in darkness.

It took me a good while to adjust, feeling my way through the kitchen and over to the designated junk drawer where my mother kept a package of tea lights. Little by little, I lit them throughout the kitchen and living room, making my way upstairs to light a few of the decorative pillar candles my mother kept in her room so I could see my way to and from my bedroom.

With my phone dead, I did my best to keep sane. Brick Breaker would’ve been the best way to do so, but I settled for an old book by candlelight at the kitchen table. It was oddly comforting being shrouded in darkness and before I knew it, I was halfway through the book, the world outside left foreign to me as I meandered through the fictional world wrapped up in its pages.

Three sharp knocks at the door brought me plummeting back down to earth and for a moment, I thought of every horror movie I’d watched that began like this.

I reluctantly opened the door.

He shoved his phone into my face.

“Your mother thinks you’re dead.”

I looked at the phone confusedly, sliding it to my ear.

“Hello?”

She managed to bless me out caringly, a feat she had perfected when I was a teenager. I listened to her intently, walking through the living room and into the kitchen as a series of “yes, mom, I know,” and “uh-huhs,” left my mouth. I perched on the kitchen counter as she made me promise I would call her as soon as my phone was charged properly. Jeryd had followed me, leaning against the entryway, as I nodded along.

I tossed the phone back to him once the call had ended.

“Did you know the neighborhood has a directory?” He asked, sliding the phone into his front pocket.

“No, that must’ve changed while I was away.”

He stood there, watching as I looked around the room, my eyes finally settling back on him.

“Look,” I began, “I’m really sorry about last night. I know it’s no excuse but I was a little drunk. I had no business doing what I did and I really am so sorry.”

He said nothing, head angling to the side as he looked at me, blinking several times, face unchanging.

“Is this the part where I apologize?” He asked, a smirk appearing.

He walked towards me and spoke again, “because, to be honest, I’m not sorry at all.”

He stood between my legs looking down at me for, what seemed like, an eternity. His violent blue eyes illuminated in the strikes of lightning as he leaned down and kissed me. It was gentle, at first, until the urgency set in and we began to push and pull at one another, my legs snaking around his waist as he pulled me closer to the counter’s ledge. We didn’t break apart as he pulled at the waistband of my shorts, dragging them down enough until

I obliged him, raising my hips, parting long enough to watch with wide eyes as he slid them down my calves and tossed them carelessly behind him. He kissed me again, nipping at my bottom lip, as he worked at his belt and button, the harsh sound of leather sliding through his belt loops made me close my eyes and grind against the granite.

“Come here,” he pulled me off the ledge, spinning me around. I couldn’t see him anymore but I could feel his enveloping warmth as his hardened length skittered across my ass cheeks. He didn’t bother removing his pants entirely, evident in the way I could hear the material drag against the floor as he moved forward. He opened me up with deft fingers, entering me in one swift movement.

“Fuck,” I breathed out, leaning forward to rest my forehead against the countertop, hissing as I acclimated to him. He was quick to pull me back up to him, his chest flush against my back, as his hands gripped my hips.

He fucked me mercilessly. So hard and unforgiving that my feet occasionally left the floor due to our massive height difference. Even as my body bowed away from his onslaughts, he kept a firm grasp on me, never letting me get too far away. I felt him everywhere simultaneously. In my guts, my lungs. No part of my body was safe from him.

I mewled for him, clawing at his hands before he finally grabbed them, slotting them under his, over the soft skin of my belly.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” His soft breath against the shell of my ear caused me to shudder.

“Yes,” I cried, “please-“ I threw my head back into his chest, craning my neck uncomfortably in the hopes of getting a glimpse of his face.

He took the initiative, leaning down into my view by way of my right shoulder, gazing at me with eyes of elation, longing, enthusiasm all painted across his features. A look of expectancy flashed across his face and for a moment, I wanted to ask him what more he wanted from me. What more could I give him at that moment than I already had?

He must have clocked it before I did. With no warning, no rush, no ascending the peak and waiting expectantly to plant my flag at the top, it hit me. There was no riding the wave this time. I was the wave.

The noise that came out of me was nothing short of animalistic. Primal, even, reflected more so as I clawed at his hands, shaking uncontrollably as he continued to fuck me through my orgasm.

I came hard, loudly, and messily a second time directly after the first. He came with me, throwing us forward, my chest heaving against the counter top as he groaned into my shoulder blade, rooting his head along the bony flesh, spilling deeply inside of me.

We stayed there for a few seconds, minutes, hours. I wasn’t sure of how much time had passed before he planted a chaste kiss on the crown of my head and pulled out.

I stayed there, unmoving, until he bent low behind me, guiding my feet back into my shorts, pulling them up around my waist. I turned around slowly, watching as he buttoned his pants and began threading his belt through his belt loops.

“So,” he looked up at me with a glimmer in his eyes, “about that job…”

#Jeryd Mencken #jeryd mencken fic #jeryd mencken x ofc #jeryd mencken fanfiction #succession #Justin Kirk

16 notes · View notes

dreadfutures · 1 year

Note

For the director's commentary ask game thing: I'd *love* a director's commentary on your inspiration for/ thoughts on the academic texts in your amazing Dorian & Solas fic "strike a match (whisper my name)." Particularly Memories of Callistus, Magister and Scholar that shows up in chapter 3. Your descriptions of it and the passage you wrote for it were just *so* cool!!

Oh, thank you so much!

FIC: [strike a match (whisper my name)]

Rating: T | Pairing: Dorian & Solas | Multichap: 7/7

Dorian and Solas go back and forth during Inquisition, arguing over whether Corypheus' magic is powered by blood, red lyrium, the Blight itself, or some unholy combination of the two. An academic rivalry that leads to friendship - even in the face of the end of the world.

One thing Dorian expresses canonically in DAI, especially if you take him to the Fade in HLTA, is that he does not find it a beautiful place at all. Despite his disagreements with Vivienne on most things, he does align with her on the idea that everything beautiful in the Fade is a lie, a danger, and that underneath there is something that cannot be trusted and may very well be repulsive. In this fic, Solas offers Dorian a bit of an olive branch between their Blight-vs-Blood-vs-Red Lyrium tete-a-tete, and he lends Dorian a book that he hopes will show Dorian that there is beauty in the Fade, that can be trusted.

This book is a diary of Magister Callistus.

And... Callistus, the book, and the passage Dorian reads is from a Codex: Walking the Fade - Frozen Moments.

Only when I let go of my desires and humbled myself was the Fade opened to me. The spirits came and took it upon themselves to be my guides, my lanterns in the darkness. At their command, the paths grew still, and I could walk them again and again. I was shown vast oceans, containing not water, but memories, drawn from the minds of dreamers. I drifted through frozen moments, like paintings, perfect in each detail. As I explored this impossible realm, the spirits kept darker things at bay. I came to trust them, even love them, and I saw my own love reflected in them.

To know the Fade, one cannot seek to master it. The Fade is the master, the teacher. We are merely apprentices.

—Writings of Magister Callistus of Taraevyn, known to some as "Callistus the Fade-Touched"

I've been really touched that more than one person has so enjoyed the book exchange Solas and Dorian engage in! But this one isn't mine.

I go lore-hunting quite often and stumble across these codices, and then I dream up ways to include them in fics. Most often, these are notes and letters to discover, if I am trying to include them specifically, OR, they point me in directions of ideas and concepts that are known and discussed IN UNIVERSE between characters, and thus give me an idea of what people generally might know and talk about.

In this fic specifically, I knew I wanted Solas and Dorian to engage in a book exchange. Now, there aren't a lot of texts on the subject they're actually debating (blood magic, blight magic, and red lyrium). However, they are both surprisingly stuffy academics...each with a softer side that challenges and entertains the status quo. That's why Dorian was such a prodigy, a thaumaturge, becoming an Enchanter so young. He's a researcher, entertaining whimsical ideas others might write off. Solas, as both a Dreamer and an ancient elf who literally created the Veil, has a breadth of knowledge and experience beyond most - and because he values intellectual discovery, dangles that knowledge like a lure, hoping that someone else will appreciate the shiny things he has gathered.

And I needed them to be friends, after establishing them as barely tenuous, and quite contentious, allies.

So I thought: what's an event that might trigger Dorian to express an opinion that Solas can challenge? and how can Solas challenge it as an academic, rather than relying on the ol' "i dreamed about it" deal? How about a book! I listened to a bunch of Dorian's dialogue, latched on to this idea of a) Tevinter Magisters *know* about Dreamers, and have records of them! b) How do they truly view the Fade, and Demons? What do their *academics* think, versus Dorian's somewhat traumatized post-HLTA reaction? c) Are there any codices or books that relate to Dreamers, their experiences in the Fade, and beautiful experiences?

And with just a little bit of googling and wiki-walking, I found Callistus.

Now the other "text" in the fic is an unnamed tome written in both Elven and Tevene:

Dorian knows what the book is the moment he sees that the pages are mirrored — on the left hand side there is the unfamiliar and thought to be lost elven script, and on the right there is ancient Tevene.

And the pages are soaked in blood.

It is an ancient academic text, written by two collaborators studying the newly erected Veil! He has no idea where it has been hiding his whole life — or for the past several centuries — but it is the find of a lifetime, to be sure.

I knew pretty early on (because my brain is hung up on my own AUs) that this would take place in Ixchel's young!lifetime. Solas does not want to win. Solas sees modern people as people. He knows what will happen to them if he wins. And he is desperate for someone to stop him. Young!Ixchel gave up. But Dorian? Dorian, presented with a clue? Would he ever give up the search? No!

So I thought about what kind of thing might be the key to unraveling this mystery of the nature of magic and its subtypes, and the nature of time. They are all connected in DA, that's pretty clear to me. The question of how and why and when it all became that way is another mystery.

And I like to think about the peoples of Thedas as...people. Ancient elves survived the Fall of Arlathan/the Creation of the Veil. They interacted with the nascent Tevinter Imperium, exchanging ideas, religions, practices, beliefs, and skills. Surely--surely!--there were people studying the Veil, which had not been there before. What if they worked together?

People are people!

And how useful would it be, to have information from someone who knew what it was like before the Veil, and who could analyze and describe this new phenomenon in detail, and perform tests and such with lifetimes of experience and wisdom guiding them? Surely that would save Dorian a lot of time. And that would certainly be something that Solas could get his hands on, I'm sure.

This was roughly the same time as the DA Comic, The Missing, was coming out, which seems to be a game of cat-and-mouse and leaving clues behind between Solas and Varric, so it really felt in-character for Solas to leave this book where Dorian could find it.

I initially envisioned the fic to have Solas in the audience at one of Dorian's lectures, ask an impertinent question, and argue with Dorian briefly before Dorian realizes--this is Solas! but Solas would get away before Dorian could end his seminar and give chase. That didn't happen (boy, I did not want to write that seminar and question session!!! LOL just #thesis hell getting too real), so instead I implied that Solas was in the audience, had listened to Dorian's theories, and knew exactly what to give Dorian to push him to the next realization, and left it in Dorian's house.

Anyway, thanks for letting me ramble about how I find obscure codices lol. DA has so many! of them!

#long post #ask #dragon age fanfic #bloodied and broken bits

11 notes · View notes

ggstargetedlife · 2 years

Text

So, it is another day of the same old usual, soon as I woke up this morning. Was already expecting to be Sickened out through the Directed Energy Weapons so I just rolled with it best I could.

My V2K harassers are still pissed over me mentally going off on them last night, so they stepped up full force with the verbal abuse shortly after they realized I was awake. That pure moment of silence between the time I awaken to the time they start up is as peaceful as it gets. Just a few seconds, and sometimes I momentarily forget I'm a T.I. I feel as normally as I used to before I became a T.I. A beautiful bliss which unfortunately never lasts but ahhh well, still thankful for life itself.

Forced myself into "shutdown mode" rather than entertain the typical back-and-forth snub throwing between me and my harassers. Normally it's just the B.Y. neighbors who start up when I begin my day but this time I recognized a few other voices of surrounding neighbors. Like I said, guess I ruffled a lot of feathers last night, although they are the reason I became provoked practically beyond sanity. Abusers never take responsibility for their actions, their part in things though, so it just is what it is. Allowing them to wield their poisonous arrows, I blocked them out, purposely ignoring their words as I got dressed. They gave dang near a full commentary of everything I said, thought and felt, even as I expressed myself on my other pges on here. Anything I posted they snatched up for attack, no matter how positive it was. Rather than get offended, I found it a bit cute, because I am well aware I'm not that important, but to them I'm their world. The common complaint still revolves around their insecurity of me expressing myself in any way, shape or form. The whole, "You talk too much!" Unless I am completely mindless and immobile, they're never satisfied. I didn't even waste my time responding to their remarks. I've practically wrote books on how what I say, think, do or feel is none of their business in the first place and how silly, utterly insane it is to ceaselessly persecute someone for not being the way they want them to be. They can carry themselves however they want without anyone all over their backs about it and neither would they let someone be on their backs about it. But they sincerely believe it's ok to be this way towards someone else who has nothing to do with them. Smh. Anyhow, this logic always falls on deaf ears with them, they just want to do what they want to do regardless of who it hurts in the process so it's whatever.

Even as I prayed this morning, they persecuted me through V2K for that too. The entire time. Ignoring them, I focused myself on communicating with God. No true believer should ever allow anyone to come between their faith and prayers. The fact they don't even respect nor fear God and would try to keep someone else from grounding themselves in the Word speaks volumes on their true character, as does everything else they do.

Being a T.I. is a continuous walk of strength and faith as you are put through the most hellish wringers all involved would never be able to handle if it was them on the receiving end. You get little to no breaks, so you just have to keep pushing yourself forward against the winds of adversity until God provides the breakthrough. To everyone else it's "just a game." To us T.I.'s forced to endure it, it's a matter of life and death, literally. You give up you die. Instead, you have to fight to deaden yourself to the endless abuse and vile invasions done to you. Surviving and thriving. For a little while I'd been thriving, doing real well, which of course didn't escape the attention of the Elites nor the masses. "How dare a Targeted Individual thrive against us?" They hissed to themselves. "We'll show her!" So now I'm back in survival mode.

But my period of thriving will indeed return, and the next time I will carry it better. No arrogance, just complete confidence and gratefulness.

#targetedindividual #gang stalking #directed energy weapons #organized harassment

4 notes · View notes

shatterthefragments · 3 months

Note

🎵💛🌴

🎵 Last song you listened to?

Bad Omens’ Kingdom of Cards (I’ve been singing it to myself all day at work whenever alone ish) (I typed this yesterday after work but passed out)

(Like I am half considering recording myself singing this and seeing if it’s any good as I continue to think about my “record one song” mini project/assigned resolution plus once I figure out which daw I’ll use I can practice layering vocal lines for this too… but also I have been Very Wrong about all significant amount of lyrics oops) (…or I could just play Stardew valley it’s been so long 😭)

But also The Room Below’s Blood Sport video that I need to queue still UPDATE I HAVE QUEUED IT ♥️😭

But since I’m sort of going back and forth between tumblr and working on writing this I am BACK to kingdom of cards 💖

(When this fades a bit I’ll be back to Turntail probably or perhaps listen to something I’ve intended to or the new music from artists I follow or something. But today again has been Kingdom of Cards)

💛 Do you have any piercings?

I do not!

But I may get my ears done so that I can eventually switch to little gay silver hoop earrings arrrrrrr (<- meant to be read like a gay pirate)

Even my sister is so enabling of this that she has offered (unsure if still willing to) pay for it but I couldn’t take her up on it because it’s Jump In The Ocean Sail Away time for me soon!! (She has several ear piercings)

If I didn’t have major hang ups over stuff being inside my body and healing I would’ve probably had several many ear piercings by now at the least. (And started getting tattoos before uh. This year ✌️) but in my head I WILL get at least the one hopefully :) (fuck I want to do a semi impulse trip to go get another (my artist is in [redacted from public] which I love but that means I have to travel there… but I think I can make it work… if they haven’t filled up all their space for tomorrow…)

🌴 Desert island item?

I adore your answer of a sturdy knife. 100/10 very practical, so I’m going to go for some whimsy and rambling!

I’d love a ship. If it’s too cheating for it to be like. A yacht that has capabilities to make it easier to sail on one’s own (wait am I alone on the island or do I have a friend? If so: a nice, sturdy house) then a semi-cheat is a tall ship. It has enough space for me and all my stuff (probably) but is too difficult/LITERALLY NOT MADE (or able??) to be sailed on one’s own. (Literally the crew has to be at least 6 or seven people and we the 30+ trainees have to help too bc otherwise the whole thing doesn’t really work.)

Or if it’s not cheating to have to sail a ship on my own. Then a small sailboat that in theory can be sailed on one’s own. (I am… not a good skipper based on my dinghy sailing. I am good at following directions from the actual captains of tall ships. I primarily rely on other people knowing more than me bc even if I *should* be one with the ocean, I don’t truly retain enough of the knowledge I’d need to safely and reliably sail myself any distance. But if given long enough (and if there’s a desalinator on board 👀) with the sheets mostly in so I can keep relative control and uh. Hopefully not die. It could maybe be possible? Us sailing with only the jib on stormy days has opened up Options. (I was with a coach though so we got to go ZOOM and hike out and that was super fun!! Would be less fun if not with an expert though ahaha. Like these people have sailed since before they reached double digits. I started at. 22 I think)

If that or the house is too cheating.

Then. A lifetime supply of Tokyo Milk Cheese Factory cookies. (The single best thing I’ve ever eaten …honestly I think I just want one right now brb I have had one 😌)

Or An indestructible book with all the knowledge I’d need to survive (if I can’t refer back to something does that information truly exist?? It goes POOF!)

Or A storage container I guess.

Or for my entertainment (Assuming I have a dry space) a cello 👀 strings my BELOVED!!

Actually. Adding desalinator. Dehydration incapacitates me by lowering the threshold for my headaches by a lot so that would probably be the most important thing for me.

#asks #elkkiel #ask game #ask games #this was super fun 💖#food #fun fact I tried to paste it into here from my notes AND IT WOULD LET ME 😭 had to restart the app #shatters’ fragments

0 notes

softomi · 4 years

Text

Catfish

prompt: mother says to be wary of people you meet on the internet, especially since you never know who’s on the other side of the screen.

pairing: atsumu x reader

the unpaid extras: osamu, suna

general taglist: @graykageyama

Osamu liked to mess with his brother and lately he’s been planning the largest prank. It originally wasn’t supposed become a huge thing, but then Suna just kept edging him on; adding more things one by one and it just spiraled. Osamu was catfishing Atsumu with your pictures.

Now, Osamu knows that it sounds bad but technically you were in on the prank. You had never met nor even knew Atsumu, heck, you didn’t even know who Osamu was. You had been part of the prank merely through text messages and the occasional meet up with Suna.

To put it simply, Suna met you through one of his teammates; coincidentally you ended up in one of his classes and the two of you built a tiny friendship. Which was why, when Suna was thinking of the perfect person to catfish Atsumu with; your face lit up in his head.

You were the perfect candidate, exactly Atsumu’s type literally to a tee. When Suna pulled up your contact, the first thing he did was offer to pay you. Every picture you sent used for the prank, he’ll send you cash through an app and as a broke college student who needed cash fast, you agreed as long as the photos weren’t used for anything weird or sexual. He made sure to send you proof of each photo in use.

This brings it all back to dear Osamu catfishing his brother. He had created an entirely new Instagram for you, complete using your name and a cute description that him and Suna had spent two hours thinking of. They decided to even spend a few days perfecting it, posting pictures a few days apart with captions, following random groups, liking posts, essentially creating a whole new personality using your photos. Osamu had even developed a fake occupation for you; a foodie blogger to which some posts were dedicated to food reviews for restaurants Osamu deemed worthy of a post.

And when Osamu says that the prank spiraled; it fucking spiraled. Originally it started with Suna and Osamu following the account, suddenly Suna’s teammates began following the account. Osamu made the mistake of tagging Onigirl Miya in one of your photos, ultimately adding a few random people to follow the account. Suddenly after two weeks of having the account, you gained over two thousand follows.

It was no worries though, because Osamu can quickly catfish Atsumu, take down the account, and call it all good.

Safe to say, Atsumu accepted the friend request rather quickly. Osamu and Suna snicker to themselves, it took Atsumu less than five minutes to accept and he was already liking all of your photos. Not even ten minutes pass and he’s sliding into the DM’s.

The two men looking at the phone and burst into laughter. They spend five minutes cackling at Atsumu’s random ‘hey’ message that followed with a smiling emoji.

Osamu was absolutely entertained, it was hilarious that his own brother had fallen for his catfish and honestly, Osamu was ready to give up the act after three days but then Atsumu said something that just really pissed him off. He doesn’t remember what it was, he just suddenly ended up two more weeks later still having the fake Instagram account and still having Atsumu believe that he was falling in love with some girl.

Somehow the account ended up with over five thousand followers, Atsumu messages the account religiously, and Osamu for some godly reason is still managing the account three months later. It’s spiraled.

“I have a girlfriend!” Atsumu doesn’t know why his friend and brother are laughing. He’s scrolling through your Instagram, the catfish Instagram.

Osamu almost chokes on his food, “So what, have you guys gone on a date? Have you even seen her in real life?” Suna snorts into his drink, he coughs when he accidentally inhales the water sharply.

Atsumu slumps in his seat, his voice small, “No, but we talk every day and she likes me!”

Suna is coughing even harder now, tears threatening to leave his eyes to the point that he excuses himself to the bathroom. Osamu has a shit eating grin on his face, “How do you know she’s actually not some old dude catfishing you?”

“She’s not!” Atsumu stutters, “She’s real!”

“Prove it.”

Osamu was about to learn a harsh lesson about the world; the world loves to bite you in the ass when you least expect it.

Atsumu leans forward, an eerie grin on his lips, “Happily.” Atsumu whips out his phone, quickly presses a number and holds the phone to his ear. He holds a finger up to his brother, even gesturing for the returning Suna to remain quiet. The phone picks up, “Hey babe, you wanna meet me here at Onigiri Miya?” Atsumu looks at the watch on his wrist, “Twenty minutes? Perfect.”

Osamu’s believing his brother is bluffing. There was no way in hell he’d be able to somehow magically bring the catfish to life, heck, Atsumu would be a god if suddenly he could. Thirty minutes pass, Osamu is exchanging looks with Suna. It’s absolutely silent between the three.

Osamu is suddenly feeling guilty, Suna is uncomfortable to the point that he’s even texting you to make sure you weren’t actually coming, and you confirmed with him that you weren’t.

“Should we tell him?” Osamu whispers when another five minutes pass.

Suna is deadpanned, “I don’t know, we’re kind of reaching a sad territory now. Let’s just break up with him and ghost him.”

Osamu groans, “But do we want to deal with a sad Atsumu, I’ll take getting my ass kicked over him crying in my apartment.”

The door chimes and their jaws smack the floor. You walked through the door, eyes roaming the place before landing on the three huddled into the corner. Is he a fucking god? Atsumu stands from his seat, he meets you halfway, pulling you into a heartfelt kiss that has you swooning.

The closer you approach with Atsumu’s arm around your shoulder, the more they truly begin to believe that Atsumu is a god.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend.” This time it’s Atsumu who has a shit-eating grin, “Ain’t she a beauty, the pictures don’t do her justice.”

It takes everything in Osamu to not scream, “But, you said you’d never even met her before.”

Atsumu gazes into your eyes, hearts practically floating above his head, “I mean I guess technically this is our first-time meeting, right?”

You nod, a puppy like expression on your face, “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet. You must be Osamu.” You point to him then your fingers drag to the other male, “Suna.”

“Oh.” Suna sits straight up, “Oh!” He catches the glint in your eyes, the conniving little minx of a look. Suna was no longer calm, “We’ve been double crossed!”

There’s screaming, fingers are being pointed at each other, Atsumu is gripping Osamu by the neck of his shirt, Suna is literally calling your phone to make sure that it’s actually you, Osamu is pulling his brother’s hair. The customers of the restaurant stare with their jaws dropped at the scene.

Everyone is squished into Osamu’s small office. Suna is sitting on the desktop, Osamu in his chair, Atsumu in the spare seat, and you lean on the arm of Atsumu’s chair. His arm dangles around your waist, pulling you to lean on him with a cheery grin.

Atsumu leans forward, taking in the expressions of the two bewildered boys, “I guess let’s start at the beginning.”

While the story technically began three months ago with Suna asking for your cooperation, the story of you and Atsumu began two months ago.

The extra cash from all the pictures you sent Suna was giving you enough to be able to go out and live a little on the weekends. Originally the bar was dead, you and your friends were tucked into the corner in a booth when a rowdy bunch of men came in. Your friends gasped having recognize them as members of a sports team and with their excitement, they must have won a game.

It didn’t affect your group that much until it came to split ways; being in your last year of university, you excused yourself, insisting that you needed to go home to finish a project. As you stood at the register, card tapping against the counter, that was when he showed up.

At this point, Atsumu had spent the past hour believing the gods were on his side. He practically walked by your table ten times just to make sure the face matched the one in his instagram’s DM. After forty minutes of the constant back and forth, your quick gazes at him walking by the table seem to do nothing. Were you unable to recognize him?

He took his shot watching you stand alone at the counter. He finishes off his drink and smoothly strides to you.

“Hey!” Atsumu leans on the counter, flashing a smile despite alcohol dripping from the side of his mouth, “Wouldn’t you consider this fate?” He gestures between the both of you.

You’re confused, shooting him a puzzled gaze, “Sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else.” You hand the card to the worker, anxiously eyeing the male who’s increasingly invading your space.

Atsumu places a hand on the small of your back, it was something Instagram you had mentioned you liked, instead it triggered a fight or flight. Your hand makes harsh contact with his cheek, he retracts his hand immediately.

“Don’t touch me!” You bark at him, “Perv.” You’re aggressively signing the receipt, storming out of the door while other men seem to ooh at Atsumu’s situation.

“Hey!” Atsumu catches your figure outside of the bar, you’re waving a hand to catch a cab, “I think we got off on the wrong foot there.”

You don’t give him a second glance, “Look, I don’t know who you think you are.”

“Atsumu.” He stands right in front of you, blocking your sights for a cab. He’s got the widest smile on his face as he holds out a hand, “Miya Atsumu. Volleyball player. Setter for the Black Jackals.”

“Okay.” You run a hand through your hair, oddly taking his hand into a shake while eyeing him, “Miya Atsumu, volleyball player, setter for the Black Jackals.”

You step to the side, arm out still trying to catch a taxi but he blocks your way once more and he looks at you with such wonder. His eyes practically having stars coming out and his smile warm and inviting. He was wondering if you were a twin, maybe he had actually gotten the wrong person.

“You are?”

The wind is causing your hair to blow in your face, he wants to so bad to brush the strands behind your ears but the way you gave him a slap earlier makes him think that’s a bad idea. Your fingers pull your hair back, “Y/n. I don’t have a fancy title like yours but, I guess I don’t know, senior to be graduating at the university.” You sidestep him once more, “I’m just trying to catch a cab home.”

Once more he blocks your way and you look at him with defeat. He was persistent. He laughs, “Sorry, last time, but do you not know me?”

You’re still as confused as ever, “Look if you’re going to pull some cheesy line about seeing me before, it’s not going to work.”

“Wait, just hold on a second.” Atsumu pulls out his phone, his fingers are shaking as he presses onto the app. He pulls up your profile, handing you his cell phone, “This is you isn’t it?!”

Your eyes scan the social media page, your mouth falling open, there’s a hidden laugh itching in your throat. These were all the picture you had taken for Suna and somehow, you’re being shown by a stranger your fake profile.

“We’ve been messaging for like a month, I can’t believe you don’t recognize me.”

I don’t recognize you because I’m not the one talking to you.

You’re perplexed, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do, if you told him he’s being catfished you’d lose the flow of side cash you’ve developed but if you didn’t, isn’t that just wrong. And the more you look at him from under the stars, he’s rather cute; you suddenly feel bad for slapping his face earlier.

“Do you want to get some coffee?”

Your offer sends him over the moon, he’s walking alongside you to the nearest convenience; Atsumu is rather talkative, bringing up topics of everything and anything that comes to his mind. As the two of you look over drink options in the cooler, his hands pull two cans of black coffee.

“You’re favorite right?” He holds one out to you.

Your actively smiling, biting your lower lip and wondering if you needed to play along with the role but as he stares at you with such adoring eyes, it makes your heart skip a beat just taking in the fact that he would remember something trivial over text.

“Actually.” You place the drink back, opting for a sweeter caramel macchiato, “I would say that this is my favorite.”

Atsumu quirks a brow, “Are you saying you were lying to me?” He places a hand over his heart, “And here I thought we were soulmates.”

Your hand smacks against his arm, “Shut up.”

“So what are you studying for?” Atsumu sips his drink, the two of you leaning against the windows of the convenience store. There’s a slight sway in his body and you’ve unknowingly followed his movements.

“Literature. Once I graduate, an internship is probably where I’ll start but I’m hoping I can get hired into a publishing company.” He’s comfortable to be with and you aren’t sure if it’s because he thinks he knows you or because his presence is just like that; comfortable.

Atsumu finishes off his canned beverage, “And you do that, all on top of running a foodie Instagram.”

From what you gathered on a quick skim of the account; they have your occupation as a lower level food blog; it’s rather funny. You can only nod to him, “It’s just a side hobby really.”

“Well maybe I could join you on one of your little adventures.”

You try to suppress the immense grin that wants to grow on your lips, there’s an internal battle happening of whether you should tell him or not but once again, the way he looks at you, the cute doe eyed look; it puts butterflies in your stomach.

“How about tomorrow?” He lets out a small gasp, your hands pull out your cell phone and offer it to him, “Your number?”

“I’m free for lunch, just text me when and where.”

You press the number he’s inserted into his contact; in a second his cell rings and he’s showing off his screen, “Don’t message me on Instagram though, I’m detoxing from social media for a bit. Just, text my number.”

He walks you to the curb, helping you flag down a cab, and you give him one last gleeful glance before getting into the car. As you sit, you’re quick to dial Suna’s number. You know he’s probably sleeping but the light feeling in your heart overrides his sleep schedule.

“What?” He’s groaning.

“Suna listen to me carefully. The prank that you guys are doing.” You hear a small snore, “Suna!” He jolts awake and you groan, “You know what, go back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” He hangs up immediately.

Your phone dings, Atsumu’s name pops up. Can’t wait for our date. You bite on your thumb, a smile on you before you respond.

Although having just seen him forty minutes ago, you two text back and forth. First he wondered if you arrived home safe, next he sent pictures of himself insisting it’s for you to choose for his icon, then he proceeds to narrate his way home. You wonder if you’re responding like catfish you but the more he brings up random topics, the more you forget about that stupid prank.

Wait let me call you.

Your heart beats faster, your phone lighting up with his name. You press the answer button slowly, “Hello?” You giggle.

“You’re telling me that you like spikers more than setters.” His voice is nearly screaming and you lean back on your chair laughing into the phone.

The quick research you did on his team had you watching short videos, and while you had to admit it was amazing to watch, your eyes drifted more to one of his teammates than him, “What’s his name?” You lean to look at your computer screen, “Bokuto Koutarou?”

“No!” He’s whining out into the air, “If I had known you were a spiker girl I would have changed positions.”

Your eyes catch the time on your laptop, “Woah. It’s three in the morning.” That meant you had spent over four hours total texting him and now you were on the phone with him, “What are you doing awake?”

He blows out a breath of air, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well.” You draw out the word, dragging your self to your bed, “I’m going to go to sleep now.” There’s a pause on the line, “Atsumu?” He hums tiredly, “Good night.”

There’s a small snore from him before he shifts around, “Good night.”

The morning light urges you awake, for a second you peak at your phone’s time and it nears ten in the morning. You’re about to throw your phone back onto the bedside table until Atsumu’s name catches your eye. For having gone to bed at three a.m. he shot you a text at seven.

Morning beautiful.

It was sweet, simple, and it made you smile; giving you the extra push to get out of bed. You stalked your own catfish page, there hadn’t seemed to be any updates so there was still time. A quick search of the internet has you picking out a random restaurant nearby and you send off a text to Atsumu about a meeting time.

You were late, pushing through the doors of the restaurant, your eyes scan the place to see him raise a hand for you. He’s dashingly handsome despite being in casual wear, you wonder if he spent time like you did just trying to pick out an outfit or if he spent forever gelling his hair as long as you tried to get your strands into the perfect waves.

“Sorry, did you wait long?” You pull into the seat in front of him.

He’s smiling and you hope to god that when you break the news to him, he’ll still smile for you, “I just got here not too long ago too.” He looks over the menu quickly, “What do you think you’ll get?”

You inspect each dish, a light hum on you as you dance around the option, “The spaghetti sounds nice.”

Atsumu tilts his head, “It has red meat in it.” You stare blankly at him, “Aren’t you allergic to red meat?”

“Oh.” You set the menu down, “Actually.” He follows your actions, you’ve become nervous at what you’re suddenly about to do, “There’s something you should know.”

“Fuck this!” Atsumu throws the napkin on the table, you jump as he harshly stands, throwing the chair back.

“Atsumu.” You stand.

“No! Don’t. Were you just messing with me then? Did Osamu tell you I was going to be at the bar last night?” Atsumu’s fist ball, “You know what, whatever.”

“Wait.” You follow him behind, “Atsumu. I’m sorry.”

He harshly turns to you, god, even in sunlight you were beautiful to him. He wants to laugh, the month he spent talking to the fake you; yeah that was all bullshit to him but honestly when he saw you last night, when he spent over four hours actually talking to you; he actually felt that maybe this could be something deeper.

“I’m really sorry, I know I should have said something right away.” You have a soft pout on you and it makes him outwardly groan.

He runs a hand through his hair, “Okay, it’s fine. I probably deserved this prank too anyways; must have pissed him off somehow.” He waves a hand, “You can just go back to doing whatever.”

Your hand pulls on his wrist, “I owe you a meal.” You bat your eyes with a cheeky grin, “If you take pictures of me, we can send them to Suna and use the money for our food.”

“Oh.” He begins to smile, “I like that idea.”

Back into Osamu’s office, Atsumu has now pulled you onto his lap, your head resting on his shoulder with arms hanging around his shoulders. The two bachelors stare at the sickly loving sight.

A lightbulb goes off in Suna’s head, “Wait! My money!”

You snort a laugh into Atsumu’s shoulder, “Hey, I earned that fair and square. You paid for goods.”

Osamu is having a staring contest with his brother, “So you two have been actually dating for two months? Why would you still message the catfish account then, why not just kick my ass when you found out?”

Atsumu taps a finger on his chin, “Well, I was just originally going to ghost you guys but then babe here and I discovered that we could fund all of our dates with Suna’s money. We even started setting aside leftover cash from our dates to plan a trip.”

You giggle, “We’re going to Disney next weekend.”

“All the pictures.” Suna whispers.

There’s an amused hum in your throat, “Honestly I’m surprised you guys didn’t figure it out. We were dropping hints in the photos.”

Indeed, the two males looked at the pictures you sent them. If they backtracked to two months ago, there wouldn’t be any hints but the closer they get to the present; it was painfully obvious. They were just too caught up in their excitement to even notice. In one photo, part of Atsumu’s shoulder and hair was just barely in the picture; another had his reflection vividly displayed in the window of the restaurant, and somehow Osamu and Suna missed the obvious Black Jackals jacket sitting on the back of the chair next to you.

The two boys were having a mental breakdown.

You shifted on Atsumu’s lap, leaning forward to tap against the top of Osamu’s phone, “Now, if you’d please deactivate the account since this whole charade is over.”

Osamu ended up not deleting the account. He set the account to private because seeing how his brother was so deeply entranced by you, Osamu had a feeling this one was going to last and he was right; on Atsumu’s wedding day, his little best-man speech had him whipping out the catfish Instagram to display on the monitor for everyone to see.

#haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu scenarios #osamu #suna #atsumu

696 notes · View notes

skelswritingcorner · 3 years

Text

Heartslabyul + Autistic!MC

This was originally posted on my Wattpad in October 2020 (link here!), but I vowed to repost my Autistic!MC UA when I got around to making this blog. This series was written to imagine what the story would generally be like with an autistic & AFAB MC and their interactions with the cast in the main story would be like.

Please note that the fic uses femminine pronouns as I was writing it with the MC being female in mind, as I am a woman myself and find it easier to write female MCs/reader inserts (I’m posting it here as it’s written on Wattpad). However, feel free to interpret this MC as any gender you may please since this doesn’t involve things like menstruation (the next two parts do involve stuff AFAB and/or trans women have). Other than that, please enjoy this fic! Under the cut due to length.

Riddle Rosehearts At first Riddle just thought she was a shy person. He had a feeling that it wasn't the case, but couldn't be bothered to ask her. Prior to his overblot, he hardly spoke to her since she was in Ramshackle dorm. However, he noticed that she regularly avoided eye contact with everybody around her. He just found MC awfully passive.

The first time he saw her at one of the Unbirthday Parties, he noticed she often spun around or paced back and forth, occasionally fidgeting with her sleeves. After the party, he entertained the idea of asking her himself about her behavior, but decided to ask Trey if he had any idea after dealing with some rule breakers. Trey couldn't exactly pinpoint anything in particular, he knew she mentioned in passing that she finds certain textures weird or wanders into a quiet location because she says 'I'm a little overwhelmed.'

After his overblot, Cater mentioned in passing how MC had no sense of danger around him, and literally approached him like normal. Everyone, even Crowley, was baffled to her behavior. "She even squished your cheeks and giggled because your skin is soft?" Riddle vaguely remembered her doing that, and the absolute confusion running through his head at her lack of fear.

When he finally asked her about it, MC replied with, "Oh, I'm on the autism spectrum. Some of my behavior might be weird, and I don't know if there's any documentation of autism in this world." After she said that, all of her behavior made sense to Riddle. He even began documenting her behaviors when he could, actions she does to calm down (aka stims), and things like her special interests. He wants to make sure he can understand her, and maybe help her advocate for herself.

Trey Clover This man's pretty chill. He notices her behavior pretty quickly. He has a little sister, and he knows certain behaviors aren't normal. However, because his sister likely isn't as old as MC, he has to talk with Cater to see if any of her behavior could be considered "normal". When Cater confirms that he never seen similar behavior in his own sisters ("Then again," Cater chuckles, "not all women are the same.").

When he asked Ace, Deuce, Grim and MC to collect chestnuts to make mont blanc he noticed how she didn't really care, but she said she kind of wanted to stretch her legs anyways.

When the five made the mont blanc, Trey noticed that MC didn't eat much of it since she said she wasn't a big fan of the texture and wasn't really hungry, and gave the rest to Grim. He kept note of it, but didn't think of asking her.

Later, when the five of them and Crowley were in the library after the events of the Unbirthday Party the day before, Trey noticed she went missing and started to panic. A little while later MC came back with a book that caught her eye. He and Crowley had a word with her to tell them next time when she's going somewhere so they don't panic again.

Out of the five dudes of Heartslabyul, he was the last to find out that MC was on the spectrum when the six of them ate Riddle's tart. She said something along the lines of, "Oyster sauce can't change the texture, but it'll make it too salty for me. Sensory inputs, y'know?" Poor dude was so confused when Cater broke the news to him, but Trey is understanding since Cater himself doesn't like certain kinds of flavors.

He might even ask MC what her favorite desserts are and try to make them for her when he has the chance.

Cater Diamond This dude's pretty easygoing, so he might be the most understanding out of everyone in Heartslabyul. When he first met MC he noticed how she paced around behind Ace and Deuce. When he asked them, Ace replied with, "Oh, she does that a lot. Says she has too much energy and has to use it somehow." He suggested that the three help him paint the roses red. They agreed to do so before class began (since Ace was wearing the collar and MC doesn't have magic, they had to use a paintbrush).

After Cater demonstrated how to paint the roses, he noticed that MC mimicked his actions exactly, down to the smallest movement. He found this interesting, even told a few of his classmates and Trey. Cater wanted to get to know her more, so he decided to talk with MC during lunch.

When he approached her, he noticed that she was somewhat shy and hardly talked much. Then again, she was eating so she likely didn't want to talk while eating food. After asking Deuce, he found out she's not exactly a talkative person.

Sometimes he noticed that she'd go into the light music room when nobody was there to study or read in peace. Part of him wanted to say hello, but he decided to respect the fact that she likely wanted some time alone and left.

When Cater came by after Trey, Ace, Deuce, Grim and MC finished making mont blanc he noticed that she didn't eat any (or had a tiny bit before giving it to Grim) because she didn't exactly like the texture. This made something click that something might be a little different with her. He decided to do some research, but couldn't find anything concrete.

During Riddle's overblot, he was shocked at MC's lack of a sense of danger and how she casually approached him and squished his cheeks and giggled uncontrollably. After the fight, she had Riddle's head resting in her lap when he asked MC about herself.

"Oh, I'm on the autism spectrum. I don't know if there's much documentation of it in this world, I hope my answer helps explain some of my behavior." this clicked with Cater, causing everything he noticed that was unique about her to finally make sense. When he finds out her special interest (let's just say it's drawing since it's one of mine), he might ask to take pictures of her with her art and post it on his Magicam account.

Deuce Spade (I basically gave up here) This confused baby...he's trying his best. He was confused when MC would randomly start crying at first, he'll try to comfort her. Sometimes he sees her spinning around or walking in circles during PE, but doesn't think of asking her about it.

When Deuce and MC went to Sam's Shop to get ingredients for Trey, he noticed how she would often glance at random objects for a moment and then focus on another. Confused him, but didn't think of asking about it.

When he had the impromptu sleepover with Ace, Grim and MC he noticed how she could ramble on and on about drawing. When he asked how she could go on about that topic and seemingly not stop Ace broke the news to him.

Now he just has more understanding of her behavior, he didn't really change much when he found out MC was autistic (other than wondering why she wanted to draw his magical wheel).

Ace Trappola This dude was pretty much the first to figure it out. When he and Grim had a quarrel on Main Street she was getting tears in her eyes randomly trying to stop everything from escalating.

Another time was when she randomly started crying in flying class, when he and Deuce asked her what was wrong she said between sniffles that sometimes she gets this urge to cry for no reason whatsoever, sometimes the same happens but she gets laughing fits.

He was the first one to find out MC is autistic when he goes to Ramshackle Dorm after he got his head 'cut off' by Riddle when she said she admired how he found advocating for himself so easily. When he asked her why, she replied with, "As someone on the autism spectrum I struggle with social skills, one of them being self advocacy."

After that, Ace tries his best to help her speak up for herself and comfort her if she randomly starts crying during class.

#twisted wonderland fanfiction #skel writes twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland heartslabyul #ace trappola #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #deuce spade #cater diamond #autistic mc #twst autistic mc ua

143 notes · View notes

fvrxdrm · 4 years

Text

.•*Friends to Lovers on Holidays with Leon Kennedy*•.

Happy Single Asses’ Day!!!

Pairing: Modern!Leon x F!Reader

Warning(s): NSFW

*****

“Cheers to us single fuckers!”

The clinking of wine glasses subtly intertwined with the voices of the actors in a horribly-done “horror” movie that was running on the television as you and Leon briefly joined them together before letting the tang of sweet, bitter, and sour wine hit your tongues. And when they did, you moaned in satisfaction.

“Not bad.”

“It better not be. This shit costed, like, $100.”

Leon grabbed the wine bottle in front of him and went on to refilling yours and his glasses respectively.

“My wallet’s fucking crying,” he continued.

“Hey, don’t bullshit me now. Jack Daniel’s costs $50.00 and I don’t hear you complaining. And from what I remember you buy five of ‘em,” you retorted back hitherto taking a small sip of your drink.

“For your information I only buy one bottle now. Had the president not let us quit going on missions your statement would’ve been correct.”

It was true. Ever since the New York incident, bioterrorism had gone down and those rare times where an occurrence would go down somewhere in a small region on earth the BSAA would be sent, sometimes even bringing one of the newer DSO agents to help them with the cases. And so, with the conclusion that the count was dying at a leisure pace, the government decided there was no need for their veteran agents to be sent on missions unless they were lethal and needed someone who was as exceedingly experienced as you on the field and sanctioned both you and Leon to only do office work until further notice.

“I mean, yeah, true… Pass me the bowl?” With eyes still glued to the T.V., Leon reached out to grab ahold of the large bowl of popcorn and blindly looked for your hand until he finally felt the bottom of the bowl touch a surface, letting it go once he felt the weight shift lighter.

“This is bullshit. Who the fuck just crawls on the ground after tripping while the killer is literally right behind them? Like, fucking 5 inches away from them! I would’ve stood up and ran.”

The movie had been going for about half an hour now and Leon couldn’t be more amused at how you reacted at every scene where the characters’ brains seemingly flew out of their heads. He wasn’t paying attention to the film. He’d watch this way, way, way, way back anyway and he knew how stupid it was so he just entertained himself by listening to your rants and laughing (also getting smacked every now and then).

“Oh my god! Why the fuck does she keep screaming?”

“You know what, I wouldn’t care if he gets killed.”

“Of course, the phone just had to be dead.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now!? Why the fuck are you making out while a psycho is literally out there to sheesh kebab you?”

“Oh my god, I just lost my brain cells.” And so on and so forth…

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Leon muttered with a smirk, popping a chip in his mouth as he turned his gaze towards the movie.

“Well, I didn’t know it was that bad. I thought it was one of those movies that are so bad they’re good,” you defended as you swigged the rest of the wine that filled a portion of your glass. Your friend just snickered in response, stretching his arms and legs and smiled in fulfilment once he heard the crack of aging bones and staring narrow-eyed at the credit screen in front of him.

Words became trapped inside your heads. You didn’t know what to do from here. The only thing you planned was watching a movie for Valentine’s day – or Single Asses’ day as you call it – and fight shy of anything revolving around romance whether it be some sort of song or movie or something.

You both had been unlucky when it came to romance and intimacy. The closest you had to love were some one-night stands with random strangers and even that was far away from said emotion. Your jobs were complicated and when you both had started in the agency years after the Raccoon City incident, it already began taking a toll on your heads and continued to up until the incident in New York. And so, relationships were the last thing you worried about. Though, that didn’t mean your hearts wouldn’t race every once and a while. Truth be told you caught feelings halfway through your career, both of you. You sometimes entertained the idea of you and your best friend being together while he had conflict between you and Ada. Both of you were people he couldn’t let go of but he felt like one was superior to the other and his brain scrambled around for a bit until the day he almost lost you. It was the day disease almost took over the world: Tall Oaks and China. That was the day he realized just how much you meant to him.

“So, um… I should go now. I’ll see you around.” Leon stood up from the couch and was about to head out your apartment door until he felt something warm enclose around his wrist. He turned around to find your pretty face looking sheepish and pleading – pink creeping from your neck to the tip of your ears.

“I-it’s already late and I… I don’t think you’re in the right condition to drive. You can stay here if you want.” The blush on your face darkened even more and your eyes suddenly found interest on your tiled floor, your grip around Leon loosening. Seeing as how abashed you looked right now, he playfully simpered and decided hey, I teasing is fun!😀

“You don’t think I can drive myself home while drunk? Haven’t you seen me in action back in New York?” He spoke.

All enervation and intoxication suddenly voided out of your body; eyes bulging out of their sockets as his statement caught you unwary for a second. Incoherent words stumbled out of your mouth and none were piecing together to form an acceptable response.

“I’m just playing. I get your intentions. You seriously need to chill the fuck out,” Leon finally said after a few enough rambles were pitched into the room ceaselessly.

Your shoulders sagged and the tension that rapidly built up in you were unfettered in a matter of seconds. “Jesus,” you murmured. “You know how I get when I’m drunk.” Leon continued in his bursts of loud laughter and it only made you sink into your seat even more.

“I’m sorry… You’re just so freaking cute!”

Whoops… Didn’t mean for that to come out…

Leon’s fit of hysterics died down in a trice, feeling like a twelve-year-old whose embarrassment was so immense after getting rejected and being made fun of in front of the whole school that he’d rather melt in a puddle where he can be forgotten.

“I-I’m sorry. That just…flew out of nowhere. I- “

“It’s fine. At least I’m not the only tomato here, right? And um… Thanks… For the compliment,” you said, face burning another 100°C.

“Well, uh,” Leon scratched the nape of his neck and shoved his free hand in his pockets where each of his fingers twiddled with one another, “wanna chat?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to be bed anytime soon, unless you’re really tired.”

“No, I’d love for you to accompany me tonight,” he replied.

“Okay, come back here you himbo.” You patted the empty space on the couch Leon previously sat on and smiled at him once he made himself comfortable with his feet resting on your coffee table and hands finding contentment in providing itself as a pillow for his head. “So, how’s life?”

“Okay, okay…fine I’ll…haha…do it.”

A few minutes had passed, talking being the only thing you’d done up until Leon tackled and attacked you with tickles on your sides.

“You, Leon Scott Kennedy,” a giggle fell past your lips, “are…”

“Are?”

“…a fucking…idiot!” Leon fell in a daze at your words and while he was at it you took advantage of his vulnerability and shoved him down to the floor with you collapsing on top of him. Only when he felt the softness of your carpet and the hardness of your floor did he bring himself out of his stupor.

“You sneaky little shit-“ He was about to place both of his hands on your waist and flip you two over when his wrists were suddenly grabbed and pinned above his head not even a second after he blinked.

“Uh uh, not so fast. You really think you could get away with this, don’t you?” A smug grin pulled the corners of your lips. Leon sighed.

“Fine, you win.”

Silence had taken over the room once more, the muffled chirping of crickets outside the closed windows the only sound filling in the missing gaps. Though the light that gave life to your apartment was dim, the distance between your faces was enough for Leon to take in every detail that defined the complexion of your face: from the lines that explicated the years and hardship you had been through, to the little dimples beside your lips that he was sure was as deep as the Pacific Ocean. From the constellation of cute freckles that flecked your cheeks and the bridge of your nose, to the pink hue that gave light to them. You were beautiful and there was no doubt it was one of the many things he admired about you. And there was also no doubt that he wasn’t afraid to voice it out while he laid flushed beneath you.

“You’re cute. You know that, right?”

“Mhm, I’m gonna be hot when I’m sixty.” You giggled at your own joke but when you saw just how awestricken your friend was by you, your smile immediately dropped and you were left flustered on top of him in diffidence and nervousness. And because of your oblivion, your hold on his wrists slackened and he took no time flipping the two of you over and switching up the roles.

“I knew you would fall for that, princess,” Leon remarked and before you could even let out a single letter, he already had his lips smashed onto yours.

A soft gasp fell from your lips but it didn’t take long for you to succumb to the feeling of his supple and slightly chapped lips.

In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment, and in that moment, you were in your pure and vulnerable selves.

It was slow and subtle at first, lips delicately lingering against each other for a moment of lip-lock until a relentless appetency set fire in your bodies. It became sloppy and messy and the abiding flavor that ghosted on your tongues left you wanting more and more of what you could give.

Hands set sail on plump skin and it wasn’t long until pieces of clothing slowly began replacing the space on your carpet where you once laid, Leon having carried you to sit you down on your couch.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this? I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want,” Leon whispered against your kiss-swollen lips, the ghost of his breath sending a delicious chill down your spine.

“I want to… Please?” And that did it for him.

He let out low growl from the depths of his throat before battering your neck with tickling kisses and bites were marks were left as graves created by the inner animal that was housed inside of his body. The brush of his skin against yours arised the short hairs that adorned your own and it didn’t help that the evening cold would tease past you in a speed that sent you shivering to your toes.

“Leon, please.”

“Please what, babe?” Leon kissed along your thighs while he looked at you through the shortness of his lashes.

“I need you, please.”

“In a minute, babe. I fucking need to taste you,” he mumbled, voice raspy with lust and desire.

You anticipated with what was bound to happen next with closed eyes and lip restrained in between teeth. However, no matter how much you prepared yourself for the feeling of his tongue touching your folds, your back still arched at the feeling and a soft moan sounded from an open mouth, hands finding home on Leon’s disheveled hair.

“Oh, fuck!”

“That’s it, baby. Moan for me, moan my name.” That you did. You let a string of curses unknowingly escape your lips along with his name slipping in between them as he lapped your sex with a type of hunger even he couldn’t describe for the life of him. He simply couldn’t get enough of your taste; getting you off once, twice, thrice, until you couldn’t take it anymore and pulled him by his hair before having a sample taste of your own through his lips. And while he was busy savoring your mouth once more, you pushed him on the floor again and straddled his hips impatiently where you felt the twitch of his cock touch your pussy.

“Please, Leon. I want you. I want you so bad. I wanna feel your cock inside me, now.”

“It’s all yours, sweetheart. It’s all yours.”

Permission granted.

Your hand grasped the base of his cock and stroked it a few times before lining the tip up to your entrance, pushing it down once you were sure enough that his dick would just slide in you, and you both moaned at the stretch and the tightness that surrounded him.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so tight,” Leon grunted.

You let yourself give in to his astonishing size before you slowly began bouncing up and down his length, your eyelids falling close to the feeling of his dick hitting just the right spots with neither of you trying. You moved in sync together, his hips propelling into yours and gradually speeding up as indulgence replaced the throbbing of your walls at their painful expansion.

“Fuck, Leon, shit.”

This was good, painfully good, but somehow it still wasn’t enough for Leon so he decided to take control again and turned you to your back where he can finally satisfy both you and him much to your contentment. He pounded into you with so much force and the tips of his fingers dug into your skin that you were sure you were going to be sore the next day at work and bruises were going to be a part of your attire for a while. Oh, well, I’m just going to call in sick tomorrow.

“You’re taking my co – ngh – ck so good, baby girl. So – ngh – good.”

Mewls left your mouth at the sound of his broken words and a familiar tight warmth filled your stomach, your moans getting louder and louder each time Leon gave a powerful blow.

“Leon, please, please, please, I’m so close – shit!”

“I know, baby, I know. Just hold on a little longer for me.”

After a few more thrusts, they became sloppy, you noticed, and all pent-up emotion boiled over into one strong orgasm that has you writhing and shaking in relief.

“Well, fuck. That was good,” you spoke in between heavy breathing, the blanket you took from inside your couch now covering your glistening wet bodies.

“Best sex I’ve ever had if I’m being honestly,” Leon added, chuckling despite struggling to get some air himself.

“Yeah. But seriously though,” you steadied your head in your hand and began tracing random doodles on the exposed skin of his chest as you spoke, “Is this going to be a one-time thing or…”

“Well, to be honest, I wanna go further from just being a one-night stand. You know, a real relationship and all that. But if you want it to be a one-time thing, I’ll respect that.” You could tell Leon was disheartened at the thought of him being a one-night stand only but your intention was just the same as his and now, you were sure about your decision.

“I wanna go further than this, too. I love you so fucking much.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page then.” Leon placed a chaste kiss on your lips before he pulled you on top of him and lulled you both into a deep slumber.

*****

Lmao this was longer than intended XD.

#leonkennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon+kennedy+imagine #leon kennedy x you #leon+kennedy+fanfic #leon kennedy imagines #leon s kennedy x reader #leonxreader #resident evil #leon+s+kennedy+x+reader

155 notes · View notes

t4tlawlight · 4 years

Photo

Occam's razor is the principle that, of two explanations that account for all the facts, the simpler one is more likely to be correct.

this post is going to cover traits specific to the manga and the television drama, since those are the best adaptations to showcase L’s autism. THIS POST is required reading before you read anything i’m about to type, because it explains what kind of character niche L falls into--an unintentionally autistic coded character. i’ll talk more about that at the end.

i’m going to talk about manga L first, since he’s the original version after all. i’m going to go in order of physical traits, to behavioral, to his character writing. also, tumblr eats posts that have outside links, so i’m going to have my non-tumblr sources in a separate post, here.

anyways, more under the cut!

MANGA/ANIME:

sitting with his legs up and spine bent / sitting on the floor

this is such a big one and its extremely common in ppl with autism. sitting in chairs normally is uncomfortable to outright painful w many ppl with these disorders, myself included. L sitting like that (which, to recall, is a blatant homage to sherlock holmes, another character that is so blatantly autistic coded you can find absolutely ridiculous amounts of writing on the topic) and being like "I HAVE TO SIT LIKE THIS TO THINK PROPERLY" is so autistic. like sitting in a certain way to give you specific sensory stimulus/avoid distracting discomfort and pain is a thing. i found this post (1) written by an autistic person on the topic of sitting in chairs being uncomfortable, and it says as much:

“I suspect that seating discomfort is common in autism (though by no means limited to autistic people). Many of us, particularly as children, benefit greatly from chairs designed to be non-stationary: rocking chairs, “fidget” chairs, and so forth. These can improve focus, compensate for proprioceptive hypo-sensitivity, and alleviate restlessness. In short, many “attention issues” can be fixed simply by providing a little motion for the person sitting. Small change, huge results. That's what accommodations do at their best. They make (often minor) adjustments that have profound impacts.”

so when L says that sitting the way he does, for a specific sensory experience, improves his ability to think, it’s perfectly in line with this idea. Also it’s a good pressure stim.

standing with a slouch / shifting his weight around

to begin: yes! it’s very common for autistic people to stand or walk oddly for a number of different reasons, from physical comorbidity to other issues such as dyspraxia (see: movie L). From an article by YAI (2), an I/DD (intellectual and/or developmental disabilities) community program:

“Kyphosis (a curved spine), collapsed chest, dropped shoulders and even scoliosis are observed in many of our patients. These myriad of postural issues may result from reduced strength, decreased biomechanical stability, or from a sensory impairment, such as apraxia.

Depending on the scene, L has mild to severe kyphosis which is very common in autistic individuals. Other things mentioned in that article if you want to click on it is instability in standing, where you sort of shift your weight around a lot between your feet or rest all of your weight on one foot, which L is literally doing the first time we see all of him.

speaking with a monotone voice.

i obviously can’t show a picture for this one and it honestly depends on the voice actor you find for L, but in the anime in particular L has a very flat tone. a lot of this is bc he has a dry sense of humor but. just know that it’s very common for autistic people to have a flat affect (or go the other way into being too loud/emotive).

his eating habits.

a lot (a LOT) of autistic ppl myself included can only eat certain kinds of food for texture and flavor reasons. HOWEVER there’s a term in the autism community called “samefoods” which is really well put by tumblr users candidlyautistic and autism-asks:

“Samefoods or samefooding is a community word to describe the autistic trait of eating the same food over, and over and over . . . It is part sensory, part routine driven in most cases. A lot of times we samefood because we need that particular mouthfeel / texture / taste, and a lot of times even after that need passes, it turns into a need for routine until you actively dislike that food again.”

“Samefooding on the other hand is closer to a special interest. When I have a samefood (chocolate ice cream, currently), I really, really want that food. I could eat that food endlessly and not get tired of it. I will get upset if I’m not able to have the food in a day. For me, it usually is kind of routine based as well. For instance, with my current samefood, I have some in the evenings and it’s become part of how I wind down from my day.”

we don’t know exactly why L specifically desires sweet food or if he considers it part of his routine, but what we do know is that he really wants to eat sweet food and avoids eating anything other than sweet food, so it could either be that he’s a picky eater and can’t handle savory or he’s samefooding on sweets!

wearing the same clothes

L wears the same clothes every single day. It’s also worth noting that what he does wear is baggy, too-big clothing, the kind that wouldn’t be tight and uncomfortable. once again, sensory issues are a huge thing for autistic individuals. one of my favorite aspects is that in no adaptation does he wear socks. even L wears shoes, he wears them like slippers, not putting them on all the way. people comment that he seems like he’s poor, but we know for a fact that he’s very rich and that wearing these clothes is a personal choice he made.

not caring for himself/outsourcing his self-care

i don’t think one day is exactly canon, rather it’s an exaggeration of what might actually happen--i.e. L doesn’t have a huge closet full of the same outfit, but he does have several versions of the same outfit on rotation; L doesn’t use a human washing machine, but Watari might help him/encourage him to bathe regularly. One Day is a parody comic, but it was made by the creators for a reason and that reason is that L pretty obviously relies on a caretaker (Watari) for his personal needs. Watari, in the manga proper, cooks and cleans and does most things for L. we’ll come back to this topic when we get to the drama though.

doing stimming behaviors

if you don’t know what stimming is, it refers to self-stimulating behaviors, usually involving repetitive movements or sounds. everyone stims to some extent, but in autism it tends to be more obvious, go on for longer, and sometimes be more disruptive to others. it’s often used to help deal with sensory overload, or used to express feelings--think of an autistic person being happy and flapping their hands in the air.

there are a LOT of instances of L displaying stimming behavior, from stacking his food or things on his desk, to spinning in his chair, to biting his fingers/using them to press on his lips, to wriggling and tapping his toes. here are some specific instances:

there are a lot more. i’ll talk about more when we get to dramaverse, but if you rewatch/reread death note it’s definitely worth noting whenever L does something like this!

detective work as a special interest

ok, first and foremost i want to establish what a special interest is. Tumblr user cartoon has my favorite explanation of what a special interest is that i’ve seen to date:

“To have a deep, intense, passionate and incredibly focused / narrowed interest in a certain area of study, subject, topic or thing - to the exclusion of other interests. This interest is something that exists for the long-term, most often lasting for multiple months, years, or even you’re entire life “

L says that he only does detective work because it’s a hobby, and he finds it entertaining. We’ve also seen that he’s been at it for quite some time--if you take side content (the wammy’s house comic, LABB) seriously, then he’s been at it since childhood, with unwavering interest. it definitely comes across to me as L having a special interest in detective work, rather than it just being a normal hobby or a job for him, especially since he says it isn’t out of any moral obligation.

germaphobia

Germaphobia is very common for individuals with autism. a lot of the time it’s actually sensory issues associated with “dirty” things, and a lot of the time it’s because features of OCD are heavily comorbid with autism, including contamination OCD and such fears. regardless of the reason, though, L’s aversion to touching Bad Things is a very autistic behavior, and so is his resulting quirk that he tends to hold things in a very odd manner!

muted emotional expression

this is getting more into L’s character, but L tends to feel and express emotions in a very muted way. not to say he doesn’t have them, but for instance in the example above, L doesn’t have a solid grasp on what exactly he’s feeling. he thinks he might be acting irrationally and overemotionally because he logically should be afraid, but he isn’t sure, and none of these emotions present themselves visibly.

i’ve also seen it said that Ukita’s death is another good example of his muted response to emotion--he tells Aizawa to stay rational and his voice doesn’t waver as he tells him as much, but he holds himself tightly. for someone with poor emotional competence, these physical signs of distress can be hard to read in oneself, but Aizawa (a man who is extremely in-tune with his emotions) can tell immediately.

high logic, low empathy

L is also a character who, like many autistic people, lacks a certain degree of empathy. it’s not that he doesn’t have any, but it’s limited enough--and he values logic over it enough--that he’s willing to make extreme decisions and take a “ends justify the means” approach (such as using people as bait.) in the example above, L takes a moment to work through what it must actually feel like, which rings as very autistic.

bluntness/not caring about social convention

there are so many examples of this i honestly could list them all day, but L is a character who is very to-the-point and doesn’t care about mincing his words. he can be outright rude to the people around him, especially if he considers them not worth basic courtesy. see: Matsuda.

DRAMAVERSE

if you all knew me you should have known this section is inevitable. i’m not going to talk about every single adaptation because i do not have the time and the only other adaptation that is meaningful in that regard is the movieverse (i am fairly certain that movie L is dyspraxic) but on account of the fact that i don’t care about them i won’t subject you all to them here.

anyway, drama L shows much the same traits as animanga L above (they are, after all, technically the same character) but he displays them in different ways.

he has a much more advanced degree of germaphobia, with Watari saying he’s sensitive to outside air and spraying everyone who enters his space with disinfectant, but not making them wash their hands or anything like that, so we can kind of tell that his issues are more rooted, again, in a fear of germs rather than any actual medical issue. he wants to feel as though he is clean, not necessarily actually be clean. this is very common in contamination OCD, which has a high comorbidity with autism. (my girlfriend has a very good headcanon post about drama L and OCD that isn’t so much analysis than just plain fun, but it’s worth a read!)

he stims, but he has a different array of stims than animanga L--he chews on his jelly pouch bottles,

he tosses it between his hands,

he kicks his feet,

and he bounces in his chair.

he still sits in an unconventional manner. he still samefoods, this time even more exclusively--he only eats Lucky Charge jelly pouches and nutritional bars. Watari onscreen puts his shirts on for him, as well as cooking, cleaning, and mending his clothes for him.

however, there are a few traits that are drama-exclusive that i think really add to an analysis of his autism!

social scripting

social scripting and echolalic scripting are both commonly described as “scripting,” but are very different! echolalic scripting is like echolalia, but echolalic scripting is the recitation of longer passages of dialogue from things the individual has heard before. but social scripting is when you memorize common conversations so you can rattle it off without worrying too much! this can be very handy, such as exchanging basic pleasantries or ordering food, but it can also backfire if someone responds in a way your script’s not set up for. you can find more information on the difference in this video (3).

now, this relates to L in that there are two separate scenes where L says the same thing, rather inappropriately:

L: When I consider Kira’s personality, could it be that the strong-willed daughter is Kira? Or could that sweet-looking son of yours surprise us by proving to be him? You never know what humans are hiding beneath the surface... Soichiro: Enough. L: Sorry. It was just a joke.

-- Episode 2

L: Light-kun. Oh, I’m sorry... If I called you “Yagami-san,” it would be the same as what I call your father. Light: That’s okay. Call me whatever you want. L: Then what about Kira? (silence) L: It's a joke.

-- Episode 4

one could say that L just has a terrible sense of humor--and, of course, having a poor grasp of humor is common with autistic individuals--but the fact that he says nearly the same thing as a defense twice makes me feel as though he has it rehearsed as a defense when people react poorly to things he’s said, which happens often.

mirroring and echolalia

echolalia was briefly covered in the previous example, but for those unaware, via wikipedia (4):

Echolalia is the unsolicited repetition of vocalizations made by another person (when repeated by the same person, it is called palilalia). In its profound form it is automatic and effortless.

mirroring, on the other hand, is explained as such, also via wikipedia (5):

Mirroring is the behavior in which one person unconsciously imitates the gesture, speech pattern, or attitude of another. Mirroring often occurs in social situations, particularly in the company of close friends or family. The concept often affects other individuals' notions about the individual that is exhibiting mirroring behaviors, which can lead to the individual building rapport with others.

both of these are very common in autism, and they’re exemplified while L’s character is established watching his favorite TV show, Owarai Paradise. On one occasion, he’s watching the show and this dialogue happens:

Hiroshi: Despite never telling her how I felt, I still got dumped. I am Hiroshi. Watari: Who was this one again? L: He is Hiroshi. Hiroshi: I am Hiroshi. I am Hiroshi.

-- Episode 2

it’s important to note that in Japanese, “He is Hiroshi” and “I am Hiroshi” are said, at least in this instance, exactly the same, so L is echoing precisely what he’s heard.

On another occasion, L is again watching the show with a glass of wine (seemingly acquired simply to imitate the characters onscreen, as he never drinks it) and when the characters onscreen toast their glasses, L does the same, mirroring them.

CONCLUSION

I linked a post at the very beginning of this analysis talking about how characters are unintentionally autistic coded, and it’s important to understand how this unintentional coding is different from a headcanon--i didn’t make up these traits. they aren’t something that only exist in my head that i ascribe to L for fun.

i made this analysis both because i wanted to share L’s autistic coding in one cohesive place, because plenty of people have made lists before, but none that i could find that included so many examples with images and explanations--and i also made it because of the old ryuzaki persona “theory.”

for those unaware, the ryuzaki persona headcanon suggests that L faked all of these traits in order to make people uncomfortable, to put them off-guard and better mask his identity. i’ve seen posts about people claiming that nobody could actually behave in these ways, that L would surely be unhappy and uncomfortable sitting like that, or eating like that, or engaging in any of these behaviors. I’ve seen some people outright say that L isn’t autistic, but his persona is--that is, he’s pretending to be autistic.

i named this essay “occam’s razor” because, to me, L being autistic is the simplest answer to account for all of these traits. claiming that an autistic coded character is faking it is ableist and it just doesn’t make sense with anything else we know about his character.

but if you want to know more about that, i recommend reading eyecicles’ first!L tag. it’s debunked it in more ways than i ever could.

anyways, in conclusion

#death note #death note drama #death note analysis #L lawliet

351 notes · View notes

dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

BTS Reaction | Boyfriend Tag [Request]

Seokjin:

You couldn't even remember how this all started but you were sitting across from Jin during a VLive eating noodles while he was asking you questions about himself to see how well you knew him. Army was going insane for it because you'd been together for so long they wanted to see if you really knew Jin,

"Which university did I go to?" He asked right as you took a mouthful of noodles into your mouth, you swallowed them and wiped your mouth staring at him,

"Easy, Konkuk University and then Hanyang Cyber University." You smirked at him as he ticked off that you'd gotten another one right that he had written down,

"Next one." You giggled looking at him as he frowned, you'd gotten everything right so far which was no surprise considering you'd been dating for a while.

"What do I tell people my favourites movies are but what are they really?" He always changed what he told people his favourites were so you were struggling,

"You've been telling people it's horror lately but we both know you hide behind me when we watch them and I know your favourites are anything with Disney princesses." He wrote down that you were right again making you laugh as you took a drink of coffee and watched him,

"Languages?"

"Chinese, English, a little Japanese and of course, Korean." You smirked over at the camera and saw that the comments were going faster as you were getting question after question,

"When did I join BigHit?"

"2010 and you trained for four years." You pushed noodles into your mouth and he threw the pen and pad down onto the table biting into his own food,

"Do I know you enough?" You giggled looking at him as he playfully glared at you,

"You know me too well." You poked your tongue out at him and he turned to look at Army to see if they knew the answers as well which most of them did but the rest of them were too busy laughing about how pouty Jin was being about everything.

Yoongi:

Though he would never admit it Yoongi was liking this a lot more than he was putting out to the camera, he loved the fact that you made Youtube videos and that he got to feature in them, he loved that you always asked him to do videos with you when he wasn't working because he got to spend more time with you. Right now was a fan suggested video and it was to do the Boyfriend Tag with him everyone knew that you were together since there was a release about it in the magazines and online about your relationships,

"Easy one, what else do I want to do besides produce and make music?" You looked at him and then smiled,

"Radio DJ, which is why you're always doing your little VLive Fm's." You smiled and he smirked at you, he adored how well you knew him.

"Okay next one, Why am I named Suga and Agust D?" You were thinking on it for a second, you'd had that conversation a couple of days ago.

"Okay, Suga is because the first syllables are from shooting guard which was your position and then Agust D is Suga backwards with DT Because of Daegu Town." He stared at you with a smile on his lips, he was just getting more and more impressed by how well you knew him.

"My ideal date night?"

"Either a night in together, movies, a walk and something to eat or taking a huge nap together." You said as you looked at him, remembering your most recent date which was literally both of you falling asleep on the sofa watching a movie,

"How many hours of sleep do I get?"

"Five, because you're fucking weird and can't sleep more than that." You grumbled looking at him and then over at the camera,

"He won't even lay there and just cuddle me either." You pouted causing him to lean over and kiss your cheek,

"Shut up." He mumbled against your skin making you giggle at him.

(yall dont understand the harships i go through when i see multiple gifs i wanna use)

Hoseok:

It was Jungkook's idea, you were all bored sitting inside of a hotel room since it was pouring it down with rain and none of you could go out. Now it was a test to see who knew Hobi better between you and Yoongi and you were currently winning which was surprising you since Yoongi and Hoseok had been hanging around together a lot longer than you had,

"What did I get a bronze medal for?" You looked at Yoongi who was still thinking on it,

"Tennis match," You said to Hoseok who smirked writing down a point for you on the whiteboard that they had,

"This is all fresh in your memory that's the only reason you know it." Yoongi chuckled looking at you as you pretended to be offended.

"What company did I originally audition for?"

"Jyp." You got out just before Yoongi did and the boys let out a chorus of 'Oh's' making Yoongi glare at them playfully, you giggled at them and then looked at Hobi.

"Make them harder baby." You whined looking at Yoongi who was already struggling enough he didn't need them to be harder.

"What school did I go to?" You and Yoongi fell into silence and stared at one another, you knew it it was right on the tip of your tongue.

"Collaborative point?" You questioned and Yoongi nodded as you tried to think of the answer together,

"Isn't it..." You leant over and whispered into his ear and he nodded,

"Academy for Rap and dance in Gwangju?" You both asked in sync looking at Hoseok who was laughing at you both,

"Yes, last one...Name of my old street dance team?"

"Neuron." You shouted out making the boys all laugh as you won the round and started dancing around the hotel room,

"They cheated!" Yoongi yelled at you looking at you and Hoseok as you started laughing together

Namjoon:

"Jin this is stupid, why do we have to see who knows him better it's clearly me." You laughed as Jin got ready for another round of questions from Namjoon who looked like he was getting bored of the game that Jin had arranged for all three of you.

"You're just saying that because you're losing." You stared at Jin and then at Namjoon who had a point sheet in his hands,

"She's winning actually...She's ahead by four points." Jin stared at Namjoon who was staring back at him,

"Next four questions are worth two points each." You agreed to the terms and got ready to answer,

"Where did I study?" You slapped your knee meaning it as your turn to answer first.

"New Zeland." You answered looking to your side to see Jin sighing and throwing his head back,

"I'll take one point for each one I get right, you take four if you get one right." You giggled and he pushed you softly,

"Deal."

"When did I release Mono?" You gave Jin a couple of seconds before you slapped your knees,

"October 23rd 2018."

"How do you remember the exact date?!" Jin yelled giving up and looking at you, you were giggling as he started to talk so fast he was rapping again.

"Last one!" Namjoon yelled making you both calm down,

"Ideal date?"

"No, new question. She'll know that easily." You nodded in agreement and Namjoon thought about another question,

"When did I change my stage name?"

"2017...November?" You said looking at him with a raised eyebrow he nodded, Jin threw down his pieces of paper and walked out of the dorm living room giving up and leaving you and Namjoon alone.

"You owe me ice cream!!" You screamed after him listening out as he slammed his bedroom door.

Jimin:

Jimin had been binge-watching couple videos all week and he decided that he wanted to do one like it on VLive with you and because Army loved you both together they decided to agree to watch it finding entertaining with how far Jimin had gotten into it, he'd made a banner for the backdrop, had a buzzer for you to push and even had helplines ready in case you needed them. He was treating it like a little gameshow but so far you were doing amazingly and hadn't used any lifeline, or needed help from Army because you knew him that well.

"Final four questions," He said to the phone looking back at you with a smile,

"What school did I transfer from and which one did I go to?" He questioned looking at you and glancing over at the phone to see Army already answering,

"You went to Busan High School of Arts and went to Korea Arts High School with Tae." He cheered and moved onto the next question,

"What are some of my hobbies outside of BTS?"

"Being with friends and family, reading comics and romance novels that you don't tell anyone about and staying on your phone for hours." He stared at you as you outted him about the secret romance book collection he was growing but moved on,

"What was my old motto?"

"Something like 'Let's keep trying till we can't do it anymore?" He nodded and moved onto the last question, all of them had been relatively easy...or for you at least they had but you had been together for a long time.

"What am I most confident about with myself?"

"Your eyes, but you should be confident about everything because you're perfect." He pushed a button on his phone which filled the room with fake clapping and cheering and you giggled as he brought you close to his chest and hugged you lovingly.

Taehyung:

It was all his idea, he'd been watching some videos online where he watched couples seeing if they knew each other well enough and now you were sitting on the sofa quizzing back and forth about one another,

"Who's my biggest role model?" He asked looking over at you with a smirk, he hadn't spoken about it much but you remembered him mentioning it once in front of the boys,

"Your dad, you said you wanted to be like him. Someone who listens and takes care of his children encourages them about their future and helps them." He smiled at you and nodded along with you telling you that you were right, he answered your question next and it was his turn again.

"Who are some of my closest friends besides the boys?"

"Park Bogum, Sungjae, Minjae, Baekhyun, Mark, and Minho....Tae you have too many friends for me to count." You grumbled looking at him while he laughed.

"Okay, okay...What would I do if I wasn't an Idol?"

"Photographer, or a painter...You've never said you wanted to be a painter but you should, you're really good at it." You complimented reaching across to the bowl of popcorn which was sitting on his lap, you put some in your mouth and he copied you.

"When did I get Yeontan?"

"2017 around December time." He stared at you as you fired off every question he gave you with a smile on your face.

"I just know you too well baby, now what's my reward?" You giggled looking at him, he slowly moved the bowl onto the table and kissed you roughly.

"Me. I'm the reward." You giggled at him as he continued to kiss you.

Jungkook:

Having a personal Twitter account to keep up with Army was fun, you spent a lot of time on there with Jungkook looking through accounts that you loved and showed him when you interacted with certain Army.

"What if Jungkook and Y/n did a twitter video asking questions about one another?" You read out looking at the phone and Jungkook stared up at you thinking it was a great idea,

"We should! It'll show how well we know one another." You stared at him thinking about it for a moment,

"Okay!" You got questions ready and he went first, sitting in front of you as you got the camera ready.

"Quickfire round, four questions each that's it." He told you as he took out the piece of paper he was holding with his questions already written down on.

"Okay, I'm ready." You told him looking at the phone and smiling,

"Favourite time of year?"

"When it's sunny but not too hot." He smiled and nodded moving onto the next one,

"What do I have a blackbelt in?"

"Taekwondo." He smirked and moved on,

"Do you know how many tattoos I have?" There were so many that kept appearing you were losing count,

"17?" You guessed looking at him and he nodded his head from side to side,

"About that yeah, okay why did I join BigHit?"

"You fell in love with Joonie and decided that was why you wanted to join." He chuckled moving over and kissing you on the lips, you'd edit it out later not wanting to get into trouble for having skinship online. Army loved it and started asking you to do more videos like that together, and it developed into a regular thing where you would film a video together every friday.

Tagline:

@yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @kpopfanfictionhoes @lyoongx @btsiguess-kpop @callingmyangel @fan-ati--c @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii

632 notes · View notes

hlupdate · 4 years

Link

In a never-before-published 2012 interview, Harry Styles and Niall Horan talk about their childhoods, the future of One Direction, and much more

In the spring of 2012, I spent a few entertaining days hanging out with the five young members of a British boy band who were just breaking big in the United States. The guys from One Direction were unjaded, unguarded, totally charming, and a puppy pile of optimism and energy. On April 8th, in a New York City hotel room, an 18-year-old Harry Styles and 16-year-old Niall Horan sat down with me for a joint interview, published here for the first time. (The reporting was intended for a Rolling Stone cover story that never ran.)

It was late morning, and they had both just rolled out of bed. Styles wore a hotel bathrobe; Horan, with braces still on his teeth, was in sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a Dallas Mavericks hat a fan had given him during a recent trip to Texas. The conversation was casual, full of laughs, and focused on their formative years.

What did you do at the gym last night? Harry: One of our security guys, his friend’s over, he’s a personal trainer, so I was working with him, and he ripped me to shreds.

In 12 hours, you have to do Saturday Night Live. Are you ready? Harry: Yeah, I think so. I think it’s going to be a fun day. It’s just really exciting, obviously. The show is so huge. For us to get the opportunity to be on it at all was just amazing, and to us, to be performing and just be involved with the show is amazing.

Have you seen whole episodes of it? Harry: I’ve watched a lot of clips on YouTube. They don’t show it in the U.K.

Growing up, when did you realize you could sing or that you wanted to sing? Harry: I sang in primary school, like the school productions, plays and stuff.

What was your first one? Harry: The first one was…I was five, and there was a story about a mouse who lived in a church, and I was Barney, the mouse. I had to wear my sister’s tights, and a headband with ears on it, and I had to sing a song all by myself. I remember it was just like, whatever…in the second, I was Buzz Lightyear in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, so you know when they run and hide in the toy shop? Buzz Lightyear was in the toy shop, so they just created my character. The last one, I was in…you know Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat? I was the pharaoh, but I was an Elvis pharaoh.

Did you have a sense that this is what you wanted to do in your life? Harry: I think in school, I was OK, I wasn’t a bad student. I think I just knew I wanted to entertain people and stuff. I was a bit of an attention-seeker at school.

Niall: Me, too. I just talked too much, sang too much.

You were onstage as a kid and were like, “This is what I like”? Harry: I knew it was fun, I had a lot of fun doing it, and I stopped when I started high school, and then I didn’t really do anything, I just sang at home, in the shower, in your bedroom, that type of thing. I guess it started again when my friends were in a band and they wanted to do this battle of the bands competition that was at school, and they needed a singer, and one of my friends asked me.

What did you sing? Harry: We sang “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” by Jet, and “Summer of ’69.” We did it more towards the Bowling For Soup version.

How about you, Niall? Niall: I always knew I wanted to sing. I was academic…I was one of those people that if I’m not interested in something, I don’t really care. If I’m not interested in school, I would have never trained or done my homework or anything, I’d have just gone outside and played football or whatever.

Harry: [helpfully translating] Soccer.

Niall: So I always wanted to sing. I was singing here and there, not gigs or anything, but I always sang around the house or whatever, and I played Oliver in a school play. And then I just did that, and people told me I should do something…I was only 10, what could I do at 10? I just did a couple of gigs, and when I got to high school, they told me that I should just try out for The X-Factor.

Who told you? Niall: My French teacher. We used to do talent shows and stuff at school, she was like, “You should do it,” so I did it.

What did that entail? What were the steps from being a kid in high school to getting on the show? Niall: It was the final of The X-Factor the year before, and at the end credits of the final, it says, “If you want to apply for 2010, go online,” so a couple of weeks later, I said, “Right, I’m going to do it,” and I filled in the form online, we were sending emails back and forth, going to this place at this time. The first one is at a big stadium, then if you get through that, you come back the next day. Is that the way they did it with you?

Harry: I had to wait a little bit, I think.

Niall: I was there at five a.m., I got seen at 12, and I was out of there by quarter past 12, and the next day I came back at 10 in the morning. You get through the first round, then they do a round where they don’t tell you if you got through after that.

Harry: They film it.

Niall: The producer and someone from the label. They film it and show it to whoever. Then if you got through that, it takes about two or three weeks until you find out. I was in Spain. Then you just go through the audition.

Harry, how did you wind up on X-Factor? Harry: I basically said, the same as Niall, I was watching the year before, and I remember looking at the young guys on there, and I was kind of like, “I’d love to have a go at it just to see what happens,” and that was kind of it. My mum actually did the application, and then three weeks later, I walked upstairs and she said, “Oh, you’ve got your X-Factor audition Sunday,” and I was like, “OK.”

Niall: In England, it’s the biggest thing ever. It took a while to build.

Harry: The two or three years were steady, and third or fourth, it just blew up.

Niall: It works that one in three people in the UK watch it. There’s 60 million people in the UK, and 21 million people watched the final the year we were in it.

Harry, your band also played at least one wedding right? Harry: Yeah. We actually said that we’d do the wedding gig, and…

Niall: You get paid for it?

Harry: Yeah. 160 quid, between all four of us. 40 quid each…we said we’d do it, and then we found out it was the weekend coming up, and we hadn’t done anything for it, so we asked the bride what kind of stuff she wanted, and she said she didn’t mind, but she wanted some Bob Marley songs. Literally in three days, not even three, probably two days, we learned like 25 songs. We might have known like three of them before. I was 16, maybe 15, singing these Bob Marley songs. There was a girl a couple of years below us, and it was her mum, she said she wanted us to play.

Niall: Can you imagine you’re at a wedding and you have 16-year-old kids up on the stage?

Maybe you were really good! Harry: Yeah, the drummer is one of my best friends from school, he’s a sick drummer, he’s so good.

Did you think the band could be something? Harry: A bit. My friend’s mum was a radio presenter, and she did a radio show for a bit, so she was trying to sort us out a little bit of studio time, we were going to go in and record.

What do your parents do? Harry: My mum is a PA. My dad is a financial adviser.

How about you? Niall: My dad works at a supermarket, he’s the head manager, general manager of an area, not just one, and my mum is unemployed now, so I try to help them out whenever I can.

You probably can. That must be nice. Niall: Yeah, it’s nice, it’s good.

Plus, now you can tell them what to do. Harry: [laughs] “Now you go to bed.”

Were you happy as kids? Did you have adolescent angst and stuff? Did you go through depressed periods? Harry: Not really. I think at one point, I started acting like I was…I had a phase of listening to really heavy music.

Niall: I never went through that.

Harry: Not stupid heavy, but a bit… just because I thought it was cool.

Like what? Harry: Like Nirvana T-shirts, wore black all the time, pretty much.

Were you pretty happy go-lucky? Niall: Yeah, I was always happy. I think me and Harry were lucky. Our parents got divorced quite early, didn’t they, when we were really young. I was four, I didn’t know much, so I was always a happy kid, always up for a laugh, very carefree, and I’m a bit like that now.

Did you both grow up in your moms’ houses? Harry: Yeah.

Niall: I went between both, my mum moved to the country and I didn’t have any interest in it. I always felt like the country is for when you’re older. I was with my mom for a while but got bored, all my friends were in town, I went to school in town and all that stuff. It was more like that.

Harry: I lived with both parents, and then moved with my mum, and we owned a pub for like five years. I remember the first night, it was like a night where a band was playing, and I just thought, “How am I going to get to sleep?” I was three stories up, I was like, “How am I going to get to sleep with this noise?” I was next to a road in Sussex in the middle of nowhere, and by the end, I could fall asleep next to the band, I was so used to the noise.

Was it imprinting your brain? Harry: Maybe. One of the guys who used to play every so often, he used to be in Deep Purple or something… He started teaching me guitar when I was like 10, I think 10, maybe nine. I loved it. I was 10, 11, all of the regulars, I got on with them. I’d walk behind the bar and my head would barely go over the bar. It’s still going now. We sold it to my best friend, we go in all the time still.

People say you come off as more mature than your age, you come off wiser. Did hanging around all those people as a kid help you mature?

Harry: I don’t know, maybe. I moved when I was seven or eight from Cheshire, and it was still Cheshire, but half an hour away, but in terms of not driving and stuff, all my friends lived near my school, so that was a bit further out. One of my friends there was my sister’s age, he was 16 when I was 10. It was so tiny, they were the only teenage boys…we’d ride our bikes and go to the driving range and stuff. It was good, it was fun.

You both wanted to entertain – if it hadn’t worked out, would you have been really unhappy? Harry: Yeah, I think it would be kind of like…one of the reasons you go for X-Factor in the first place is that you want to do this, and it kind of helps you get out of the life that you were doing before. I worked in a bakery for two years. Obviously, I didn’t want to do that for ages!

If you’d asked people at school, would they have said, “Yeah, they’re probably going to be famous,” or would they never have guessed that? Niall: My aunt, I was in the back of her car. We used to go across Ireland to go to the beach for a couple of weeks, and I remember we were in the car, I was singing, and she thought I was the radio, and she told me, I never forgot it, that she thought I was going to be famous since I was six, seven. She was the only person who told me that, so I always remembered that.

Harry: My dad said it. I used to listen to a lot of the music he was playing, he’d play Elvis Presley to death, the Stones, I’d sing along to that and he’d say, “You’re going to be famous,” or whatever. He came on tour with us for a few days out here, he came to the Radio City show. He just said, for him, it was so educational. Obviously, he hears about what happens when I call him, but to see it and see it actually happen and how everything works was so good for him, he really enjoyed it. So that was nice.

So you grew up on Elvis and the Stones? Harry: Yeah, pretty much. My dad was a massive Stones fan, so it was pretty much Beatles and Stones in terms of what my dad played.

People say you kind of look like Mick.

Niall: He gets that a lot.

Harry: I get it more here, probably, than I do at home. It’s because of the British thing.

What have you learned about life from the last few years, what didn’t you know? What advice would you give yourself? Niall: How much more independent we actually are – me, anyway. Your mum attends to your every need and does your food and washing and gives you somewhere to live. Then you go into the real world, as you’re told as a kid…

Harry: We’re living on our own now.

Niall: We just started living on our own in the last six months, really.

Harry: I’m moving when I get back.

Niall: We do our own washing, we make our own food, we rent places, we’re out on our own now. You mature so quick, you’re dealing with big businessmen every day, you’re not dealing with school, people your own age. It’s a bit different.

Harry: You seem to learn so many life lessons, but in such a short space of time. If I speak to my friends and they’re having problems with girls, whatever it is, now I seem to just have the answer. I don’t know, it’s just different. Or I think I have the answer. In terms of…one of my friends was trying to decide what to do with school, stuff like that, and I would have had no idea what to say to him before.

The last two years must feel like 10. Harry: Yeah, but at the same time, it feels like six months, it’s weird. X-Factor was two years ago, but it seems like five years ago, but at the same time, it’s gone so quick. It’s a really strange dynamic of how it feels.

Do you have a sense of how this is going to go? Does it matter if it’s two years, five years or forever? Harry: I think how much we all enjoy it, because we love what we do – if you have to call it a job, it’s an incredible job to have, and we love it. We’ll all want to do it for as long as possible. If we have the opportunity to have a Take That kind of career, I don’t see any reason why we wouldn’t want to do that. If we don’t, I don’t know…we’ve done some amazing things already, but we don’t want to stop there, we want to keep going. I guess if we didn’t, I think we’d probably want to still be involved in…I’d just write, I guess.

Do you want to act? It feels like you could have your own TV show. Harry: I think it would be more of a documentary, because obviously, we’re not actors.

People must want you to try. Niall: Watch tonight, tell us what you think. Watch SNL.

Will you all make solo albums? Is that inevitable? Harry: No, I don’t think so.

Niall: Let’s do a swing album!

Harry: [laughs] We’ll all do swing albums. We’re just so focused on this, we all feel so lucky just to be part of this opportunity that we’ve all been given, it’s incredible, we’re just loving it. It’s sick.

People make a lot of assumptions about people in your position. They think you’re puppets and do what you’re told. What do you do when people make those assumptions? Harry: When you look from the outside, especially if you’re a skeptic of groups made through TV shows, which is fair enough, people don’t see what we do on a daily basis, people don’t see…I think from the outside, it looks so glamorous, they see us do TV performances every now and again, see us doing an interview every now and again, but they don’t know that we work seven days a week.

Niall: If there was eight days, we’d fit it in.

Harry: It’s not as completely glamorous all the time, of course it’s not, it would be stupid to think that it would be, but it’s hard work.

Niall: You’ve got to remember that you’ve got people on your team that have been doing this for many years and have been through the mill. You have all that experience around you, even from our tour manager, who’s been doing this for 20 years, they know what’s right, but at the same time, we want to have creative control, because at the end of the day, it’s us stepping out onto the stage of SNL tonight and have to sing these songs. We want to be singing what we enjoy, as we said last night. The music we all listen to is what we try and blend together to make this One Direction sound.

Harry: We obviously want to make it authentic and have our say without going, “People say we don’t control it, so we need to take control.” We’re not…we haven’t been writing songs for 20 years, we’re not producers. We’ve got an incredible team around us. Luckily, we’ve been given a lot of freedom, so we don’t go, “OK, we just need more and more control,” because we have a lot of control already. I think we find a really good balance in the way we work with our record label and our management, and it’s just how we work together, I think.

In any case, it’s probably better than the bakery. Harry: Yeah. But I don’t get a nice bun on my break anymore, that’s the thing.

Did you wear an apron? Harry: Oh yeah, I wore a white polo shirt and a maroon apron with white stripes. “What would you like? 78 pence, thank you very much.”

Were you behind the counter? Harry: Yeah, I was behind the counter. It was good. It was Saturday morning, I started at five and finished at four in the afternoon and got like 30 quid, it was a joke.

Niall, did you have a job? Niall: No, never.

So this is your first job. Niall: Yeah, not bad at all. I was chilling, I was being a kid.

Harry: I had a paper route before that. It gave me a bad back, bad posture. It was a heavy bag.

I interviewed some fans downstairs, and asked if they knew who you were six months ago, and they all said yes, and a year ago…They were all early adopters, heard you from the Internet, watched X Factor on YouTube… Harry: It’s the internet. People have friends over here that might tell their friends and look on YouTube and show their friends. It’s insane how it’s blown up. We’ve had the opportunity to come over to America and do shows, and release our music over here, which is amazing. Through the power of social media, we already had a bit of a following before we’d ever been over here, we hadn’t done any shows. We had some fans out here, which was amazing, but weird, really strange. I don’t know, it’s gone crazy. We don’t really see loads of it. We do the shows, then we’re in hotels, then we fly somewhere else. We don’t see massive amounts of it, we just go with it. This whole thing has gone on, and it’s sick.

Do you ever feel anxious through all this? Harry: Yeah, I think, obviously, just naturally, you think about what’s going to happen in the future. We’re 18, 19, 20 years old, we’re young. I wouldn’t say anxious, we’re just excited most of the time, and having so much fun, that if stuff were to finish and you were to look back on your time and all you did the whole time throughout this amazing stuff was shitting yourself about what’s going to happen next, then it would just be…I think you have to enjoy it while it’s going on. I think you should be wary about the future, but not worrying about it all the time. We still enjoy it and have fun, but obviously, you do think, “What am I going to be doing in 20 years, 30 year?” I’ll have kids by then.

Harry, I saw a tabloid with pictures of everyone smiling, and you were looking thoughtful. Do you get down sometimes? While everyone else is having fun, do you start drifting off? Harry: No, I think I’m naturally…not everyone is happy all of the time. I think you always have times when…like when you’ve just landed off a really long flight or miss home or something. They got a picture of me where I wasn’t smiling. I usually smile, but they got one where I wasn’t smiling and used that, and then said I wasn’t happy. They did that for a few days, that’s when we were in L.A. last time. It goes with the morbid voice.

Ringo would say, “It’s just me face.” Niall: “Who’s that little old man?” [quoting Hard Day’s Night]

Harry: “That’s Paul’s grandfather. He’s very clean.”

Sometimes you can drift off, that’s just your thing. Harry: [laughs] I’m just soulful, man, I try.

Harry, do you mind when you’re singled out for attention? Harry: I don’t know. I don’t really…I don’t know. We’re a band. Everything we do is together. I don’t take much notice of it.

So you’re not the Justin. Harry: No.

Niall: J.C. was popular, too, wasn’t he?

It’s not like that for you guys. Harry: Not at all.

There was an imbalance in that group. Harry: I think we find it important that people get to know all of our individual personalities, because…

Niall: I think that’s what’s good about it, people see us as individuals as well as a band, we all have our own personality, and we all give something to a band. Previous bands, they go around and can never explain themselves, they can explain the band, but as individuals, what we bring to the band and stuff…

Harry: We all know that we all have our roles, and we all know that without one of us, it wouldn’t work.

#harry styles #niall horan #one direction #230720 #1d ten

401 notes · View notes

egcdeath · 4 years

Text

secret santa

pairing: ransom drysdale x f!reader

a/n: this is so self indulgent. SO SELF INDULGENT. more self indulgent than anyone will ever be able to comprehend. before u all read this, i want u to know it was originally supposed to be about training ransom at a job, but then i realized that i nothing about 1. working at a coffee shop and 2. training an employee. also, i am the worst at writing dialogue. so i didn’t write a lot of dialogue LMAO enjoy :)

also, half of this was written at 1 am. just a warning

warnings: coffee shop au, enemies (kinda) to lovers, a lil fluff, not really angst but bitter feelings, kinda slow burn and then all the sudden a fast burn i’m sorry 😭

word count: 2.6k

You woke up to the sound of your alarm rumbling your bedside table sometime around the asscrack of dawn, and rubbed your eyes with a groan. Sometimes, you really couldn’t stand your job, but bills didn’t really pay themselves, did they? You rolled out of bed, and began your dreaded morning routine before heading out to start your opening shift at your local café.

Somewhere between warming up the espresso machine and taking out last night’s trash (which you shouldn’t have had to do in the first place), an older, yet expensive looking car pulled up to the front of the parking lot. You were a bit confused, as you’d never seen this vehicle, and it was quite clear that you weren’t exactly open yet. You watched as a tall man hopped out of the car, wearing a large peacoat and very unnecessary sunglasses. He approached the door, gave it a knock, then waited for you to come open it for him. Reluctantly, you made your way over, and in order to keep yourself safe, began to speak through the glass.

“Can I help you?” You asked in an annoyed tone, then gestured towards the piece of paper that labeled your hours on the door. There was no reason for any customer to be here this early. You looked up at the mystery man and made a rather intense eye contact with him. If this was any indicator of your crowd today, work was going to be far from pleasant.

“Yeah, I was told that I’m starting today?” He had a wicked smirk on his face, like he knew he was getting under your skin already. You hated people like him, and couldn’t believe that he could possibly be your coworker. On the bright side, he probably wouldn’t last long in the first place.

“Well, are you sure you’re here on time? I can’t see any situation where Melissa would schedule to open for your very first shift.” You commented with a furrowed brow.

“Eh, I kinda just figured I’d come in whenever. The girl in my bed was an early riser, so I thought to myself ‘Why not just come in now?’” He said casually.

“Your name?” You inquired, trying to keep your annoyance to yourself, and put on a customer service smile.

“Hugh, or Ransom,” he responded. You turned around, allowed yourself a huff and eye roll, then walked through the kitchen, and into the break room to check if he truly was a new employee, or just some random creep. Sure enough, a bright pink post-it note in very neat handwriting confirmed this man’s existence. You made your way back to the door, unlocked it, and let him in.

“Since you’re here, you should… set down the chairs,” you told him, less than entertained by his presence. You could just tell he was bad news. This Ransom guy was like the textbook definition of a red flag. He talked your ear off while you tried to get through your opening routine, some casual remarks about his last hookup, complaints about how he only got this job because his mother was a regular and good friends with your manager, and how he was threatened to get cut out of his grandfather’s will if he didn’t get employed soon, and what better way to spite your family than to mess up their daily coffees.

Eventually, a few more of your coworkers, along with your manager, Melissa, made it to the café before the morning rush began. You were sitting down at your typical barstool spot, and sipping an iced Americano when Melissa broke the news to you that you would be training the new employee. Upon hearing the news, you audibly groaned, and rubbed your forehead. There was no way that you could handle this man.

-------

During his first week, Ransom not only managed to offer (and successfully give) six customers his phone number, break two mugs, mess up more orders than even Euclid could comprehend, and spill straws a multitude of times all over the floor, but he began to flirt with you relentlessly. You had no idea why you’d become his new target of choice, when it was clear that he could have literally anyone he wanted. Maybe he liked that you were playing hard to get.

If you were being honest, you had to accept that he was handsome. And rich. And the definition of a fuckboy. And since you were being frank with yourself, you had to acknowledge that you were attracted to that ‘toxic and will treat you like shit’ kind of guy. You had a roster of ex boyfriends to prove that for you.

---

It was a pretty slow Tuesday afternoon, which meant you were sitting on your phone until a customer placed an order. Eventually, the little bell above the door chimed, and an older man came through, ordering a dark and bitter drink, then standing by the counter to wait. You began to restock lids while Ransom took care of making the drink, and once it was ready, you passed it over to the man. The man in question took a rather large sip, then promptly spat it out.

“What the fuck is this!” He roared, barely giving you time to react before he proceeded to toss the drink at you, spilling most of the hot content on your apron.

You gasped, gawking down at your scorched and ruined clothing, then up at the customer, who’d turned around with a huff and left, leaving a stream of strong language on his way out. You bit back tears at the whole fiasco, and cringed as both the steamy drink, and your salty tears stung different parts of your body. You turned to look at the barista, who had passed you along the drink, and were met with no other than the white devil himself. It seemed that all the blood had drained from his already otherwise pale face.

“Oh my god, this is all my fault,” he began remorsefully. “Let me make it up to you somehow.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, running a hand through your hair, and shoving Ransom angrily while you more or less stomped into the staff bathroom.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and frowned before bringing up your bundled apron to your face and screaming into it. Stupid fucking customers. Stupid fucking job. Stupid fucking Ransom. It’s like he came to your job just to make it hell. You were tired of cleaning up all these messes for him, and honestly, you wish he’d just quit already. The longer you worked with him, the more tempted you were to pour sugar in his gas tank, then take a club and break all the windows in the Beemer.

------

For the next month, your brain was completely elsewhere at work. Your brain was constantly going back and forth with you between finding Ransom hot and horrendous. While the pair of you finished up closing one night, you heard your coworker begin to speak to you as you placed your hand on the keys in your pocket.

“I know you hate me, Y/N. I get it. What that guy did to you was awful, and yes it was my fault, but what else have I done to hurt you?” He asked, seemingly out of the blue. You weren’t even sure how to respond. Ignoring the man and demonizing him in your head had become almost a second nature. “I mean, I think we could’ve been good friends. Even though you seem to think I’m devil incarnate, I think you’re a pretty cool chick-“ he continued before being cut off by you.

“Why do you even care?” you burst out, “Ransom, you just don’t get it do you? You’re just.. a douchebag. I get it, you have your moments where you’re candid and open with people, but half of the time you’re talking, you’re objectifying someone. Or bragging about something you own. Don’t get me wrong, I could get past what you did to me on accident, but you seriously have to work on yourself,” the words just seemed to pour out without your control. “Goodnight, Ransom,” you said simply before leaving the café for the night.

——

Since that day, the tension between you and Ransom had evidently become more thick. Since he was finally finished training with you, you made sure to only speak to him if you absolutely needed to, and even then, you only communicated with him in brief and straightforward answers. Sure, it seemed like a small thing to be upset about, and sure, he’d apologized, but something told you that any excuse to stay away from Ransom was a good excuse.

Though he appeared to be an immoral and selfish man, he seemed genuinely sorry for all that he’d put you through. Occasionally, you’d be sitting in the break room and look up from your phone to see him watching you. When you’d make eye contact, he would look like he wanted to say something to you, but your petty ass would leave, or look back at your phone. He was bad news anyway.

Your boss quickly caught onto what was going on between the two of you, and usually, Melissa didn’t like to participate in petty drama, but your new sour mood was such a stark contrast from before, and it seemed to shift the whole mood of the café.

That afternoon, Melissa called for a team meeting a bit before closing, and suggested a family dinner along with a Secret Santa. She’d said something along the lines of ‘It’s been way too long since we’ve done a team bonding activity, and a gift exchange is perfectly fitting for the Holiday season.’ This did make you perk up, as Melissa had a great taste in restaurants, and you were always down for a good gift exchange.

Melissa then told everyone to write their names down, then put them in a decorative Santa hat. You and your coworkers obliged, then began to pass around the hat once again in order to draw a name. You really hoped to get Xavier. You had the perfect idea of something he’d love. As you drew a piece of paper from the hat, you imagined the matching pair of fluffy socks for a human and dog that you’d passed by during your last trip to Target. You began to unfold it, thinking of what color he might like the most, when you looked down and saw ‘Ransom’ drawn out in chicken scratch.

You tried your best to mask your annoyance at who you received, but on the inside, you were seething. You mentally cursed the universe out while you pulled on your coat, and grimaced to yourself once you got out to your car. How were you supposed to get this asshole a gift?

—-

The week leading up to the exchange went fairly well for you, although it was getting a bit exhausting to be so mad at Ransom all the time. You tried to be less harsh with him, considering you needed to learn more about him in order to get him a somewhat decent gift for your exchange.

He’d seem to have taken your conversation with him to heart, and began to talk less and less about other girls when he was working with you. He didn’t comment on how well your jeans fit you, and you noticed that he’d often overextend himself in order to help you with (pretty basic) daily aspects of the job. Ransom would ask you questions about yourself, and your family, and speak less about himself. If you were honest with yourself, he was becoming a better man. And the best part was, he seemed to be doing it just for you. The thought of which brought heat to your face.

—

On the night of the exchange, you threw on a hideous and scratchy Christmas sweater before picking up your neatly wrapped gift for Ransom. You truly hoped that he’d like it, even though it certainly wasn’t the most expensive item. You bid farewell to your cat, then went on your way to the restaurant. You had to admit, you were a bit late. So it should’ve been no surprise when you arrived, and found that the only seat left at the table was next to Ransom. You gave him a cordial smile before sitting down and ordering yourself a glass of Merlot.

Something about being so close to him was kind of riling you up. The strong timbre sent coming off of him was making your whole body feel slightly warmer than normal, and you tried to ignore this strange sensation while you talked and joked with your coworkers. At one point, Ransom leaned in nice and close to you, and began to speak to you.

“Jesus Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as hideous as Karmen’s sweatshirt,” he whispered right into the shell of your ear. Maybe it was the wine talking, but that simple action sent a whole chill through your body, and made you flush even harder than you’d flushed before. You let out a little giggle and nodded in agreement, looking across the table at her very ugly sweater.

“To be fair, the whole point of this was to wear something really ugly,” you turned your head back to where it was before, only to find that Ransom had somehow moved even closer to you.

“I just don’t know where you find something like that,” he commented, gazing much too deep into your eyes. You swore you felt the room shift after he began looking at you like that. There was about a 20% chance that you’d be able to keep your panties on after this kind of exchange. Luckily for you, a waitress broke the tension for you, setting down a few plates for everyone, then bidding them farewell. Damn.

The food was amazing, and didn’t last very long, meaning that it was time to pass gifts around sooner than later. You watched as Amy received a gift card from Sophie, Emily opened a plethora of chocolates gifted to her by Melissa, and Xander whiffed a candle given to him by Kennedy, then, it was your turn. You glanced around the table before you felt the arm next to you reach down, then hand you an oversized gift bag.

“I hope you like it,” Ransom said with a shy smile. You casually felt your cheeks on your way to pull out the very large item. You found it was a very large, and soft, hand knit blanket. It looked like it could’ve cost a small fortune, and you immediately found yourself embarrassed.

“Oh wow. This is perfect! Thank you so much,” you grinned over at your coworker, who seemed to be blushing himself. “Well, I guess I should probably give you this then,” you chuckled awkwardly before passing him your wrapped package. He tore it open barbarically, then began to laugh. Of all the gifts in the world, you two had gotten each other somewhat similar items. Sure, it wasn’t hand knit with the love of some grandma who ran a small business on Etsy, but it was the thought that counts.

“I love it, Y/N,” he exclaimed, looking deep into your eyes once again. He ran his fingers through the soft fabric, then set a hand on your arm. In that moment, it felt like time stopped. It was just you two, sitting in a quiet room, enjoying the presence of each other. You don’t even know what had gotten into you, but before you knew it, you felt a nose pressed up against yours, and a billion butterflies erupt out of your stomach. You heard a few grimaces from your coworkers at the sappy, Hallmark-like moment but what could you say.

Maybe Ransom was not that bad after all.

#ransom thrombey x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out fanfic #hey i wrote that lol

108 notes · View notes

nineteenninety-six · 4 years

Note

Can I request for the Mandalorian? The reader is dating Mando and helps him to take care of the child. When quarantine hits, she decides to share her photo album of her baby pictures and because she was so tiny in them, she got the best reaction from him even though he suddenly became more protective of her.

This is my fic Mandalorian fic and I hope it’s okay. It’s also the longest fic I've written in a while :P

It had been her and Mando for a long time until they had gotten the bounty from Greef Karga that sent them to Arvala-7.

There they had found out the bounty was a small little child and despite arguments from (Y/N), her lover had given the defenceless child to the Imps. They had gone back and forth on the journey back from Arval a-7 and to Nevarro, (Y/N) advocating to take the child and run, knowing that the Imps are still bad news, despite the fall of the Empire but Mando disagreed.

He talked about the Beskar and how it would be returned to the Mandalorians and how it could sponsor many foundlings of The Tribe. (Y/N) understood, she really did but she could not side with him this time.

The Razor Crest was filled with such thick tension that even the small green child noticed. She had locked herself away in the section they called their quarters but it really only held a cot and used the excuse that she was recovering from the adventure-filled yet utterly exhausting past few days but Mando knew it was because she was upset with him.

Of course, Mando ended up taking the child back and they had spent the time since then running from Imps and bounty hunters alike. They had settled down in a lovely little village on Sorgan after they had helped them fight off a group of Raiders with the help of Cara Dune.

Their little slice of heaven was quickly over when bounty hunters arrived and since then they had been going to planet to planet, doing odd jobs to get some credits.

They had just landed on a planet, only meaning to see if there was any work available but as soon as they landed they were informed that an illness was making its way through the planet and it was on lockdown and the occupants were quarantining.

They weren't allowed off the planet for the next two weeks and were confined to the Razor crest and the odd trip out to the spaceport for a bit of fresh air.

The first few days were fine, it allowed The Mandalorian and (Y/N) to get some proper sleep. They were always on edge by their nature but here they didn't have to worry about the next place they had to run off to in order to escape the people who chase after them.

By the end of the first week, Mando was over it. He was fidgety, and couldn't sit still for long, always wanting to do something with his hands.

Getting tired of seeing him pace around the cockpit for the millionth time, (Y/N) jumped up from her seat. The Child squealed in excitement at the movement from his place in her arms.

"I can't watch you stomp around for any longer, follow me" (Y/N) made her way out of the cockpit, not waiting to see if he followed her.

"Why?" He yelled out but when she didn't respond, he rolled his eyes from beneath his helmet and let out a huff before he followed her.

He finds her in front of their storage locker, arms crossed with a determined expression on her face. The Child was sitting in his little basket, watching her with his usual big eyes.

"We're clearing this out. It's a mess and we have the time to declutter." (Y/N) motioned to their storage locker.

"It's not a mess, everything in there is important,"

"Din!"

It was rare for (Y/N) to use his real name.

She reached into the locker and pulled out a piece of metal that was so damaged that she couldn't tell what it was originally.

"What would you use this for?"

At the man’s prolonged silence, she let out a victorious laugh before throwing it to the side.

"Do you plan on throwing all of my stuff away?" He grumbles as he starts to pull things out of the locker.

“Just the things you love the most” She jokes as she joins him in pulling out the items that filled the locker.

It took a few hours and a few breaks for snacks and drinks but they managed to get through the mess that filled the storage locker and there was a medium-sized pile of rubbish by the ramp.

“See that wasn’t so bad was it?” (Y/N) asked as she sipped her drink.

Mando shrugged his shoulders and (Y/N) didn’t doubt that the man was also rolling his eyes.

As she took one last look at the locker, a small bag tucked into the corner caught her eye. Confused she made her way over to it and peered inside, letting out an excited gasp when she saw what was in it.

“What wrong?” Mando asked, his worry flaring up.

“I haven’t seen these in years! I completely forgot about them” (Y/N) continued to speak, not answering his question.

“What is it?” He asked again

“Old holo’s from when I was young” (Y/N) pulled out and with a flick, a projection flickered out.

It was (Y/N) as a baby, held in the arms of her father. He was kissing her cheek and she had a hand stuffed into her mouth.

She couldn’t help but tear up as she looked at the image, she missed her parents greatly. She had a good life and her parents were great.

The sound of a coo brought her out of her head and when she looked at where the sound came from, she found The Child looking at the holo. He looked between her and the holo before letting out another coo.

“Yeah, that’s me” (Y/N) grinned, “There’s some more here as well.”

(Y/N) turned on the other holos and with them came projections of images and videos of (Y/N) as a baby and child.

Mando let out a laugh at one particular projection of her running around with her father chasing after her.

“Adorable.”

(Y/N) covered her face in embarrassment.

“It’s hard to imagine you so tiny.”

At his words, (Y/N) glanced at The Child who was still looking at the holos and found it hard to imagine herself that tiny as he was.

“I’m not so tiny anymore.”

Mando only let out a hum as a response.

A few days later, midway through their second week, (Y/N) began to notice how her lover never let her do anything. Whenever she tried to get something on a high shelf, he swooped in. When she tidied the ship, he would quickly take over. When she tried to feed or entertain The Child, he would take the bowl, pick up the child and take him elsewhere to feed him.

(Y/N) had enough. This was never a problem beforehand but now suddenly it was and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. (Y/N) wasn’t an exceptional bounty hunter like him but she was fully capable of defending herself and the child.

She cornered him in the cockpit after The Child was put down for his nap.

“Din, what’s your issue?” Once again, (Y/N)’s rare use of his name came out.

“What do you mean?” The man grunted from beneath his helmet

“You won’t allow me to do anything. Not even to feed the kid!”

He turned to face her and not for the first time, (Y/N) wanted to curse about that fact she couldn’t see his face.

“The holo’s...you’re tiny.”

Oh god.

(Y/N) wanted to grab him and see if it was possible to shake the dumb out of him. She could not believe that the man had seen the holo of her as a baby and then decided that she couldn’t look after herself.

“I was literally a baby! I can defend myself and most definitely feed the kid.”

“B-but-”

“Din, you’re sweet but misguided.”

The man let out a grumble before he dipped his head in apology.

“Sorry. You’re right, I overreacted”

(Y/N) patted him on his pauldron, “It’s okay, just don’t do that again.”

“I won’t”

“I mean it! Don’t even dare to think about it” (Y/N) called as she left the cockpit.

“I won’t!”

“Good!”

#the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian imagines #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin imagines #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #mandalorian imagine #imagines #x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #star wars imagines #star wars imagine #star wars #the mandalorian

165 notes · View notes

littlemisssquiggles · 3 years

Text

Pinehead Headcanons: Oscar the Wandering Soul

As a continuation from my last Pinehead Headcanon regarding the Dreamscape and the Garden of Two Lovers, I recently thought of another alternative to this concept of Oscar connecting to Ruby in the Other World through his dreams.

Imagine if…whenever Oscar goes to sleep, his soul is able to somehow traverse between Remnant and the Other World due to either the mysterious workings of the magic he inherited as Ozma’s successor or perhaps some other new ability that he unknowingly taps into while in sleep?

However in the Other World, Oscar appears only as a wandering spirit in this world or rather an astral projection of himself since he is only connecting to the Other World in his dreams while his actual body remains back in Remnant inside Vacuo Kingdom.

Therefore, despite instantly locating the missing Ruby Rose on the island in the Other World using his connection to her, Oscar is unfortunately able to interact with the little red rose physically due to him being in astral form.

With this thought in mind, hear me out on this one folks.

I have this small hunch where Ruby will end up mostly alone in the Other World; completely separated from the others. The only other known person closest to Ruby is Neo but since Neo is still hell-bent on killing her to avenge Torchwick’s death, she still acts more as an antagonist to the vulnerable Ruby than a legit companion.

So it’s a scenario where Ruby is mostly on her own in this strange Other world without any knowledge of where exactly she was, where her friends could be or even if they were still alive since the island was still very much a mystery to her.

So let’s say, after a few days of traveling through the island by herself (or rather what feels like daysconsidering that there was no real sense of time in the mysterious Other World either as far as Ruby know), Ruby slowly starts to succumb to her feelings of loneliness and fears of not only never seeing her friends ever again but also never returning home to Remnant.

“…She’s brushed off her bumps and bruises; but nothing hurt worse than the loneliness in her chest…”

I have this idea where when Astral Oscarfirst discovers Ruby, he finds her alone by the seashore, lamenting to herself, wishing out loud to be with her loved ones once more.

I have this idea where when Astral Oscar first discovers Ruby, he finds her alone by the seashore, lamenting to herself, wishing out loud to be with her loved ones once more.

For the sake of comedy, I also had this idea of Ruby, in her lonely state, fashioning replicas of all of her friends out of wood and strange fruits and vegetables---if you’d call them that--- she discovered while wandering the island which she pretended to talk to whenever the pain of solitude got the better of her.

There was even a fruitsona of Oscar who Ruby made out of a strange pumpkin-like fruit or vegetable that she found, claiming it reminded her of him due to its small size, green and orange colour and spots which reminded Ruby of Oscar’s freckled cheeks.

Let’s say …that Ruby liked to talk to Pumpkin Oscar the most out of her fruit friends mainly because the last time Ruby felt that lonely, it was Oscar’s words that helped her through it referring back to their shared moment in the dojo scene back in V5.

Let’s say…in this scene, Ruby finally breaks under the weight of her solitude and starts crying in front of Pumpkin Oscar, wishing out loud that the real Oscar was there with her to help her through this moment again and to offer her some wisdom on what to do.

But little did Ruby know, Oscar was there. Appearing before her in astral form. And let’s say it’s a case where even as a “ghost” or “wandering soul”, Oscar still attempts to connect to Ruby somehow---reaching out to her like her always did whenever she was in distress; hoping to make a meaningful link that would aid her and quell her fears.

And…little would Oscar know, he would be able to connect to Ruby in a manner that he’d never expected with his newfound power.

Alright, REALLY hear me out with this one. There are two ideas I can see spawning from the concept of Astral or Wandering Soul Oscar.

One version is Oscar taking possession of an inanimate object that’s close to Ruby and using it as a means of communicating with her whenever he visits the Other World in his dreams. There is a reason why I mentioned Pumpkin Oscar.

Ya’ll remember the Oz character Jack Pumpkinhead, right? Jack Pumpkinhead is an inanimate character with a pumpkin for a head and a skinny figure made of tree limbs and jointed with wooden pegs. Jack was made by Tip, the little boy who was eventually reveled to be Princess Ozma---the true ruler of Oz.

You might also recall that this squiggle meister has been advocating for a version of Jack or at least a reference to him to show up in RWBY, right?

To make a long theory short, imagine if…we got a nice little nod to Jack Pumpkinhead by having his RWBY equivalent be a pumpkin-headed body of sticks and twigs made by a lonely Ruby to represent her friend Oscar while alone on the island in the Other World and this very same pumpkin creation ends up providing a “body” for an Astral Oscar to project himself into and use to talk with Ruby in the Other World.

Basically what I’m saying here is---in the Other World, Oscar becomes Pumpkinhead and in this form, he travels with Ruby on the island and helps her find their friends.

However, meanwhile back in the real world in Remnant, Oscar’s actual body is more or less stuck in an almost comatose state which unfortunately has his friends in Vacuo---Emerald, Ren and Nora all extremely worried for him since as far as they knew, Oscar went to sleep and just never woke up.

While the little prince is technically NOT dead since his wandering soul is off on an adventure helping Ruby in the Other World but for the most, his allies on the other side aren’t aware of this. At least, not until Oscar eventually does wake up to blissfully inform the others of his time in the dreamland--- that he knew exactly where their missing comrades were since with Ruby’s help, he found them all in his dreams in another world beyond Remnant---as ridiculously outlandish and farfetched as that might sound coming from a kid with two souls.

Just picture a scene where Oscar is retelling his adventures in the Other World with Ren, Emerald and Nora AFTER being asleep for some like a few days in Remnant’s time and all three of him ogling him like he’d gone mad while unconscious. Although Ren is willing to entertain the possibility of Oscar’s “findings” being just, not just because it’s coming from Oscar---the magical kid with literally two souls--- but also because he can tell that Oscar wasn’t lying to them based on his semblance. So it’s a scene like that however Nora and Emerald are still more than a little apprehensive.

But as I said before, this is just one idea I have based on the Astral Oscar concept.

The other version is Astral Oscar ending up inside Ruby’s head. So basically, picture a scenario where Oscar is Ruby’s companion in another world but instead of being there with her physically or possessing an inanimate object, he mainly becomes another voice inside of her head; guiding her as best as he could.

It’s pretty much a case where Oscar gets a little taste of what Oz was experiencing while sharing his body with him, so to speak in a sense. In a desperate attempt to connect to Ruby while in astral form, Oscar unintentionally ends up inside of Ruby’s body or at least her head and that’s how they’re able to know of the other’s presence and thus talk to each other while in the Other World.

I’m not saying that Oscar is able to take possession of Ruby’s body (since her body is hers and he’s not trying to be that kind of “ghost” since he of all people understands what it’s like to have your body being taken over by another intruding soul without your consent and all that jazz). I more like it in the realm of him just communicating with Ruby mentally since he connected his wandering spirit to hers. And at the same time, Oscar is able to feel Ruby’s true emotions and unbeknownst to him, she can also feel his while he’s inside of her head. So the two are able to bond with each other a lot closely as friends and understand one another in ways they never did before.

So just picture Ruby traversing through the Other World, talking with Oscar as the other voice inside of her head that only she can hear since it’s her soul that he’s made contact with. But it’s also a case where Oscar doesn’t really have full control over his newfound power since he isn’t quite sure how it works or how he even unlocked it in the first place. Is it even a semblance or a result of magic? Oscar isn’t sure.

So while Oscar is grateful for finding Ruby; at the same time, he isn’t sure how he even got to the Other World in the first place outside of going to sleep back in Vacuo and suddenly waking up as a wandering soul in ghost form there. The poor boy also isn’t sure on how he will return to his body in Remnant but naturally, he eventually does figure this out and it becomes a scenario where Oscar hops back and forth between Remnant and the Other World.

On one end, he connects to Ruby in the Other World in his sleep, informing her of all that’s happening back in Remnant with Salem and safeguarding the last two relics from her particularly the Sword of Destruction which was being housed in their current location in Vacuo.

And on the other hand, when Oscar is awake, he reiterates his findings from the Other World from his time with Ruby with their friends in Remnant while working on their end to find a way to bring the others back home to Remnant.

I just really love the concept of Oscar being the link for his friends between two worlds. I like the idea of our boy becoming the key to helping Ruby and the others get back to Remnant. And I love the idea of him being able to do so through a unique power that only he has and shares with his rose.

I know the idea of Oscar connecting to Ruby as a wandering soul and talking to her in her mind while in his dreams sounds like a stretch. Still nevertheless, I really dig this idea and while I doubt it’ll become canon in any shape or form for V9, as always, it’s still worth tossing out to my ever-growing table of possibilities and headcanons.

Besides, I wanted to amuse myself with the thought of Oscar talking to Ruby in her head in his wandering soul form and there’s this initial apprehension where the little prince is worried that his rose might have the same annoyed reaction to his presence that he once gave Oz back in V4.

However to Oscar’s surprise, Ruby is surprisingly enthusiastic about having him share her mind with her and is more than welcoming of him being there since…Ruby trusts Oscar and after walking the Other World alone, she’s happier to just have someone she knows and likes there with her as opposed to being on her own. That way, it doesn’t feel as lonely as it did before.

This is also a callback to V5CH3 when Oscar first told RNJR about him sharing a body with Oz and Ruby reacting more enthusiastically to the idea of a person with two souls than anything else which I always found to be adorably sweet of her.

She looked so intrigued by Oscar. I always liked that detail from when the Rosegarden pair first met since Ruby's enthusiasm of Oscar mirrored his enthralled expression at meeting her for the first time and seeing someone like her with silver eyes.

I just think it’d be neat to see some Oscar and Ruby mental conversations---both the comical kind with shenanigans on Ruby’s part and the deep and thoughtful kind where, because they share such a unique bond with only each other, the two smaller, most honest souls can understand each other a lot more than before since now they were connected spirituallyin a sense.

Perhaps while connected to Ruby mentally in astral form, Ruby can sense Oscar’s apprehension of the Merge just as much as he can feel her loneliness and pain over feeling like she’d failed her friends yet again (particularly Penny’s whose death she’d missed and failed to stop yet again).

Maybe it’s a scenario where Oscar doesn’t even want to return to Remnant---where the little prince would much rather face the consequences of never waking up again in the real world and thus remain a wandering soul forever as opposed to the latter of waking up as someone else. For at least as a wandering soul---as a ghost---Oscar would at least get to be himself. A dark thought that concerned Ruby and could even spark a conversation between them on this topic.

As we know from the events of V8, Oscar is very apprehensive of the Merge. Neither he nor Oz wants it to happen. Although I’d like to believe that Oz’s own uneasiness stems from him being fully aware of Oscar’s true feelings and reluctance. Personally if there is one other character I’d love to see learn of Oscar’s fears of the Merge and even help him through it, it’s Ruby.

As the audience, we’ve already seen Oscar discuss the Merge with Oz twice for V8. Now what I’d love to see is Oscar sharing his fears with someone else he deeply trusts and I’d still love to believe that that character is Ruby.

Buuuuuuuuuuuut…like I said, this is all just a concept. Who knows what V9 will bring for the little prince and his true rose? At least in the meantime, I can amuse myself on more ideas derived from this one headcanon of mine.

I think Oscar becoming a wandering soul in the Other World where he connects with his rose sounds pretty cool especially the part where the two grow and help each other emotionally on their journey together before finally reuniting for real in their home of Remnant.

I especially like the idea of Oscar connecting to Ruby inside her mind and talking to her as another voice inside her head since I think it could be an interesting new way to further cultivate their bond and help it to blossom into something very meaningful to them both.

Not necessarily as a romance but…still something strong and unique only to them and their shared bond, y’know what I mean?

But again, that's just moi.

~LittleMissSquiggles (2021)

#oscar pine #ruby rose #oscar and ruby #rwby rosegarden #rwby theories #rwby volume 9 theory #pinehead headcanons #squiggles pinehead headcanons

18 notes · View notes

let-the-dream-begin · 4 years

Text

When the World is Free Chapter 3: I’m At the End of Myself

Chapter 2

Read on AO3

John and Claire’s delicate dance continued into her seventh and eighth months of pregnancy. Since that day of shared private pleasure, nothing much had changed between them. They maintained their chaste kisses on cheeks and heads, holding hands and sharing amicable silence.

And occasionally they would pleasure themselves in each other’s company.

By the middle of the seventh month, Claire could not comfortably reach around the swell of her belly to touch herself. John had watched her try one night, feeling himself grow hard as she did, and then she sighed with frustration. It wasn’t long before she had another idea, however, and she was suddenly sitting astride one of her pillows, undulating her hips as she grasped the headboard with white knuckles. John could not take his eyes off of her as he began palming himself and then pumping furiously, finishing only just before she did.

John could not make any sense of it.

She was a woman. John had known since quite an early age that he was not like other boys; he did not desire the company or touch of a woman the way he should. The older he got, the more it clicked in his brain that he desired men in the way he ought to desire women. And he'd done all in his power to rectify it, to change who he was, but to no avail. His confession to Jamie had come about as a result of his wishing to deny it to himself no longer. Jamie had flipped a switch in John’s heart, and John suddenly knew that if he were lucky enough to love a soul like Jamie’s, that being who he was could not have possibly been so terrible. It could in fact have been…absolutely wonderful.

But then there was her.

She, this woman who shared his home and his name, was making him question everything all over again. At first, she had been something to cling to as he floated adrift in a sea of grief. She was his one tenuous link to Jamie, the one thing keeping alive the miracle the man had done to his soul. Even after that first night of their marriage where they’d used each other so grossly, John still could not separate her from Jamie. It was like she herself had so bluntly said:

“We were really fucking Jamie.”

But then she’d offered to touch him…and he’d agreed. And they’d come to this place where they could watch each other in the throes of passion and be spurred even further into their own haze of pleasure.

“It makes me feel…very good to give a man pleasure.”

John quickly learned that Claire carried a great sense of erotic pride in her own abilities, and he had to admit there was something enchanting about it. Since that first time, it was rare that she touched him, but damn him if having her watch him do it himself didn’t light him afire.

And he couldn’t bloody make sense of any of it at all.

And then there was the child.

They’d been sitting and reading as they did every night, and Claire had very suddenly thrown her book aside and grasped John’s hands, causing him to drop his book as well. Before he could find the words to ask what in the world she was doing, he felt it.

“He’s saying hello,” she’d whispered, her eyes flicking back and forth between their hands and John’s face.

John could not stop staring at his hands, hands that could literally feel tiny feet pounding against them.

“I’m so glad you’re finally here for this. You’ve missed it a fair amount of times.”

John had to blink fairly quickly to clear his eyes of tears.

“See, lovie? I told you that you’d get to say hello to Daddy soon.”

John had looked up at her in amazement as the weight of her chosen word sank in, and was surprised at the tears on her cheeks, the pain in her eyes.

I know, my dear. I know you wish it was him instead.

“Thank you for sharing this with me, Claire,” is what he’d said instead.

By the eighth month, words like Daddy and Mummy were regularly exchanged between the two of them, as well as little one and sweetheart.

And Da.

John came home to the sight of Claire on the sofa, legs stretched out over the cushions, Jamie’s rosary in one hand, the other stroking her round belly.

“And then, your Da said to me: you need not be scared of me, nor of anyone here, so long as I'm with you.”

John smiled wistfully as he hung up his coat and hat. They’d decided early on that the child would know his father. John would be Daddy, of course, but he would know the brave man that loved him from Heaven. John and Claire would create that presence for him together.

It gave her comfort to talk to the child, especially while he worked when Geillis could not give her company, and it was more than natural for Jamie to be at the forefront of her mind while she did so.

John heard Claire sigh, and she pressed a kiss to the rosary before tucking it back into the box she kept it in, which she’d brought from the bedroom and put on the coffee table.

“Good evening,” John said warmly, unsure if the moment she’d just shared with the father of her child was meant to stay between them, or if she would bring him into it. Sometimes she did, sometimes she didn’t; it depended on the day as to which option it would be.

“Good evening,” Claire answered, both hands on her stomach now. “How was your day?”

Leave it alone, then.

“Just fine. Rather boring, actually,” he said. He sat on the coffee table in front of her, not at all surprised by the redness in her eyes or the lingering wetness on her cheeks. “Has Brian been behaving himself today?”

Claire sniffled loudly, but she smiled, seemingly savoring the sound of the name being spoken aloud. “What do you think, little one? Should I lie and tell Daddy that you were sweet as anything?”

“Oh my.” John frowned in sympathy.

“I think he’s stepped on my bladder a total of thirty-two times today,” she groaned. “And my feet hurt so bloody badly, I considered just staying here and soiling the couch an embarrassing amount of times rather than go to the toilet.”

“Poor dear,” John said, then gave her stomach a poke. “Naughty thing.”

She laughed softly. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you to cook? I really don’t think I can stand another second today.”

“Not at all.” John leaned forward and kissed her temple before heaving himself off the coffee table. “Whatever you wish to eat, I shall do my best to make it happen for you.”

“Just a plate of every single carbohydrate in the kitchen,” she said dramatically, and John chuckled to himself as he started rummaging through the cabinets.

“Well, I can put the water on to boil for some spaghetti, and get you some bread in the meantime.”

“With oil? And garlic?”

“As you wish.”

He heard her moan with delight, no doubt throwing her head back over the arm of the couch, and he chuckled again. He poked his head in the refrigerator and saw that there was still some baked chicken from the other night’s meal. He decided that would pair nicely as a protein with the carbohydrates his wife so desired, and he put it in the oven on a low setting to heat up.

“Some broccoli, my dear?”

“God no. Nothing green.”

“Still? I thought you’d gotten past that by the fourth month.”

“I thought so too. But it’s come back. With a vengeance.”

“Alright, I apologize for even entertaining the idea.”

Chicken warming and water set to boil, John returned to the living room with a plate of bread and a small dish of garlic and oil, along with a glass of wine for each of them. As she dug into the bread, he began rubbing her feet almost as an instinct, remembering exactly what she needed.

“You are too good to me, darling.”

His lips quirked up and he peered up at her. “I do try.”

When the meal was made and John put a plate of pasta and chicken in front of Claire, she glowered at him, not at all unlike a stubborn child after seeing a plate of vegetables.

“Don’t look at me like that. You are the nurse, and you made me swear that I would not let you become undernourished no matter the cravings you had. So this is me holding up my end of that bargain.” He sat down across from her, unable to hold back a smile. “You said yourself you need protein.” She narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps eat it first so that it doesn’t spoil the spaghetti,” he said as if reasoning with a child of five years old. She rolled her eyes at him and reluctantly started to eat.

Claire had done exactly the opposite of what John had suggested; she devoured the spaghetti and a second helping before even touching the chicken. She shot daggers at him lest he even attempt to stop her, so he kept his mouth shut and bit his tongue to stifle laughter.

Just as she was reluctantly beginning to cut into the chicken, there was a knock at the front door.

“Who could that be?” Claire said.

“Don’t get up, I’ll take care of it,” John said. “Likely it’s nothing important.”

John pushed back his chair and made his way out of the kitchen, smiling fondly at the sound of Claire’s humming the beginning of It’s Been a Long, Long Time — one of her newest favorite records — accompanied by the sound of her knife and fork clinking on the plate.

“Never thought that you would be standing here so close to me…”

“Coming,” John called as he switched on a lamp in the living room; it had quickly grown dark since they’d moved to the kitchen.

“There's so much I feel that I should say, but words can wait until some other day…”

John opened the door, and he literally felt the blood drain from his face.

“Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again! It’s been a long, long time…”

He had to be dreaming. He had to be.

His knees felt weak, and then felt like nothing. His legs went completely numb. He had to clutch the door with both hands to keep from toppling over.

“John.”

His voice sounded far away, echoing as if through a canyon. John’s vision blurred, and the door swayed in his grip.

A pair of strong hands suddenly caught him by the shoulders and held him upright; otherwise he would have slid down the door and landed in a heap. John’s eyes bugged out of his head at the contact, and he stared at one of the hands on his shoulder for several seconds.

He’s really here.

“Haven't felt like this, my dear, since I can't remember when…”

“W…what…?” John stammered, finally wrenching his eyes away from the hands and back into his face. “You’re…you’re dead…”

“No, a charaid,” he said, his grip on his shoulders tightening. “I’m…I’m home.”

John’s eyes finally registered what he was looking at. Trembling hands left the door to ghost over his face, recently shaven — unevenly at that, sallow cheeks and sunken eyes, hair unruly and poorly trimmed…but still him.

“It's been a long, long time…”

“My God!” John sobbed, throwing his arms around Jamie’s neck.

The hands previously holding onto John’s shoulders hovered mid-air for a long moment before resting on his back, and then he waited another moment before fully returning the embrace, holding his friend tightly to him.

“Christ, Jamie…” John stammered into his shoulder. “What…how…my God!”

Jamie gave him another solid pat on the back before gripping his shoulders and pushing him away so he could meet his eye. John almost jumped when he saw what they held. Once clear, bright blue, was somehow dulled, and yet filled with electric rage that John could not place.

“You'll never know how many dreams I've dreamed about you…”

Good Lord…Claire.

“Or just how empty they all seemed without you — Is everything alright, darling?”

Jamie tensed beneath his hands. Had he thought she was a record before she actually spoke, that he just now registered the other voice was her?

“Y-yes, I’ll be right back,” John said quickly. “Don’t t-trouble yourself getting up.”

“So kiss me once, then kiss me twice…”

“Married?”

John blinked as if it could clear the ringing in his ears. “What?”

“Ye’re married?”

John swallowed thickly, feeling needles trail down his throat as he did. “Y-yes. To protect her. Like I promised, Jamie.”

“Then kiss me once again, it’s been a long, long time!”

Jamie nodded once and then gently pushed him out of the way.

“Wait!” John hissed in a low whisper. “You’ll shock her to death. Let me…prepare her.”

Jamie’s back was to John, but he could still see how he trembled…with…rage?

“Claire!” John called, brushing past Jamie before he could protest. “Are you sitting down?”

“Yes, right in front of this bloody chicken still.” She looked up at him as he entered the kitchen. “John! You look ill! You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“I’m…not at all sure I haven’t.”

Her brow furrowed, and just as he was about to elaborate, he watched the blood drain from her face and her jaw fall slack. John turned around to see that Jamie was already right behind him in the doorway, and Claire was facing him dead-on. Whatever John meant to say died on his tongue, and he stepped out of the way of Jamie’s path to Claire.

She put her hands on the table like she was trying to stand up, but she didn’t move. She likely couldn’t. The table and tablecloth were obscuring any view of the life she carried. Very suddenly, Jamie collapsed to his knees before her, and John jumped at the sound of the impact. He just stayed there, on the floor, staring up at her, perhaps not knowing what to even do with himself.

Claire’s chest heaved, fat tears rolled endlessly down her cheeks. Her lips were trembling, her hands were trembling. She slowly, painfully slowly, brought her hands off the table and toward his face. She cried out, almost shrieked when she made contact with his skin. He made a noise as well, a heartbreaking, loud sob. Claire let out another noise, almost animalistic in nature as she threw her arms around his head from above him, pressing his face into her neck. He cried out unintelligibly as well, returning the embrace from under her arms, clutching her hair.

John braced himself on the counter and covered his mouth, tears flowing freely over his hand. They were both speaking, but he couldn’t understand a word. Jamie was muttering in Gaelic, and Claire was sputtering incoherently, words that eventually just morphed into a repeated chorus:

“Jamie, Jamie, Jamie, Jamie, Jamie, Jamie…”

Both pairs of hands were lost in curls as they rocked back and forth, Claire’s tears soaking his mess of red. She started kissing his head, over and over and over, every inch of it, and then his forehead, his cheeks, until finally she gripped his face in her tremulous hands and pressed their lips together.

John thought to leave, or to at least look away, but he couldn’t.

When he’d dreamed of Jamie’s fantastical and imaginary return, he hadn’t dreamed of holding the man for more than a few seconds, hadn’t dreamed of kissing him in relief, of crying in each other’s arms.

He had dreamed of this.

He had dreamed of not being able to decipher whose tears were whose, being unable to determine where she ended and he began. He had dreamed of watching them find each other again.

He loved Jamie on his own, he always would. And he’d come to love Claire, as well, though differently.

But together…it was enough to break his heart and mend it all at once. And it was all he ever dreamed of seeing.

They finally stopped kissing, and Claire half-laughed, half-sobbed into Jamie’s mouth, resting her forehead on his.

“Oh, Jamie…”

She started shifting, rotating her body in her chair, bringing her legs out from under the table. Jamie leaned back, and John could picture the exact position he was preparing for. He’d watched it all too often: Claire sitting high up and looking down at him, either on a tank or a bar counter or a fence, military grade trousers allowing Jamie to nest perfectly between her legs and hold her around the middle.

But her middle was not quite in the state that Jamie had last seen it.

Jamie leaned back again instinctually upon feeling the extra mass between them, not registering right away what it was.

Claire smiled blearily at him, her wet face now positively glowing with joy. Jamie was completely frozen in shock, his eyes locked on the large bump. Claire reached for his hands and placed them on the swell of her abdomen, letting out a beautiful, strangled cry as they rested there.

Jamie’s brow was furrowed, and he finally tore his eyes off of her middle to look up at her face, absolutely bewildered. Claire just nodded, her smile cracking all the wider as she broke into joyful hysterics, fresh tears pouring out of her. Jamie began sobbing anew as well, an even more broken, devastating sound than before. His arms were long of course, so he could still wrap them around her middle almost like before, but now he rested his cheek on her belly, weeping and whispering to it, to him.

Their child.

They started swaying again in this new position, Jamie pressing fervent kiss after kiss to her belly, and she to his head, all while sputtering incoherently to each other, the child, or to no one at all.

It was the most devastatingly beautiful thing John had ever seen. He did not belong in this moment, and yet he could not look away.

An indeterminable amount of time passed in this manner.

Claire looked up first, eyes and face swollen and red and shining. She took a stuttering breath before beaming a watery smile at John, exhaling in a tremulous laugh. He smiled back at her, his heart leaping out of his chest, his own eyes still stinging.

“It’s…a miracle…” Claire breathed, absently stroking Jamie’s head. “Tell me I’m not dreaming…you see him too…?”

John nodded, swallowing hotly. “I do, Claire. I’m almost certain we’re both awake this time.”

She bit her lip, more tears trickling down as she turned to look back down at Jamie. He had not picked his head up off her belly, had not loosened his grip. If John wasn’t mistaken, he was still muttering as well.

“Oh, my love…” Claire crooned, moving her hands down to cup his face in her hands. “Look at me, Jamie…”

She seemed to have to physically pry his head off of their child, raising him up to her eye level. She trailed her fingers over the lines of his face, weeping through a frozen smile.

“What…” she stammered, and his hands came to join hers on his face, lacing their fingers together. “How…? Where have you been…? Are you alright? Are you in pain?”

John could see Jamie’s shoulders tense, see his breathing quicken.

“Jamie…?” Claire said again, pressing her lips to their joined hands. “Talk to me, love. It’s alright.”

After a moment, Jamie’s breathing somewhat returned to normal, and he finally tore his eyes away from Claire to look at John. He hadn’t thought that Jamie even remembered he was there. He cleared his throat and stood up, not releasing Claire’s hands.

“I think…” His voice was hoarse, gravelly and low. “Ye should sit, John. You should hear it as well.”

John took his weight off the counter, swaying a bit as a result. He slowly crossed to the table and sat down in his seat in front of his cold food, across from Claire. Jamie took the seat between them keeping one of his hands linked with both of Claire’s.

“Your plane…it was shot down,” John said. “They said nobody could have survived that explosion.”

“Aye.” Jamie nodded. “It plummeted out of the sky, alright. Felt my guts in my throat. I…held onto…Claire’s picture…and I prayed…so hard…asking God to protect her.”

Claire’s knuckles went white gripping his hand, silent tears staining her cheeks.

“But the impact came and I…I woke up. I was in blinding pain, everywhere…’specially my back. My copilot, Hayes…he was alive. But he was trapped.”

His jaw hardened, his eyes focusing somewhere far off, his pupils tiny pinpricks in a sea of turmoil.

“I tried…I tried to get him out…I tried…” His voice broke.

“Jamie…” Claire soothed, lowering her head to press a kiss to his shoulder.

“I could smell the gas, ye ken. We both could. He begged me tae leave him.”

The hand that Claire was not holding trembled fiercely at his side, even as the rest of him remained still as stone. John had to fight the urge to reach out and take it.

“I would’ve stayed wi’ him. I swear I would’ve. But be begged me.”

“Nobody can blame you for wanting to live, Jamie,” Claire said fervently. “It’s not your fault.”

“So I just…I left him pinned under the rubble like that.”

He seemed to not even hear her.

“I dragged myself out like an animal. Christ, it hurt…it felt like my entire back was ripped open…and it turned out it was.”

John felt that he very soon would be ill. All the horrors he’d seen in the war…and none of them compared to Jamie Fraser thrown out of the sky, bleeding to death like a forgotten animal.

“I got out just before the explosion.” He winced, even jumped a bit, and John knew the explosion was happening right before his eyes again. It was something he’d often experienced, something Claire had coaxed him out of time and again over the past months.

“I don’t even remember losing consciousness…but when I woke up I was in a POW camp.”

“So the plane didn’t explode on impact…” John said incredulously. “And of course they thought you’d died…”

“There wasna anything to bury of Hayes, was there.”

He wasn’t asking. He knew.

“No,” John said softly. “So they…we thought you…”

“Aye.” Jamie nodded, his eyes finally leaving his living nightmare and flicking to John. “Logical train of thought.”

“So you’ve…been captive this whole time…” Claire said.

“Only just liberated,” Jamie confirmed.

“My God…” Claire shook her head, sobbing. “My poor love…” She released his hand to throw her arms around his entire frame, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “My poor, poor love…”

“It’s alright, mo ghraidh…” Jamie choked, gripping her arms as they tightened around him. “You saved me, ye ken.”

“What do you mean…?” she sputtered into his neck.

“The thought of seeing yer face again…my sorcha. Ye came to me at night…ye talked me to sleep, ye soothed my nightmares…but ye never touched me.” Tears rolled down his cheeks for the first time in a while.

Claire sobbed all the harder, tightening her grip again. “I can touch you now,” she whispered fervently.

“I’m alive because ye kept my soul alive in that horrible place. I knew in my heart that I’d live to see this day. I had to.”

John couldn’t stop himself; he reached over and put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. “May the Lord be praised for it,” he said hoarsely.

“Why didn’t…no one sent a telegram…” Claire said, finally picking her head up again. “We didn’t even get a call,” Claire said to John.

“They tell immediate family first,” Jamie said, his face darkening in a different way than it had when he spoke of the war. “Neither of you are Frasers.”

John’s throat went dry, and he noticed how Claire’s eyes flicked downward in shame.

“Jenny didn’t call,” she said after a moment, her voice small and frightened.

“I asked her not to. I wanted to find ye myself.” He wasn’t looking at either of them. “Took me longer than it should’ve. Since I was looking fer a Beauchamp.”

“Jamie…”

“Jenny didn’t even know. Did ye know that?”

Claire met John’s eye, and she looked like she’d been slapped in the face.

“I was…I couldn’t speak of it to her, Jamie. Losing you…it was…God…it ate me alive, tore me to pieces…I wasn’t ready to talk to your sister and hear your voice, or look her in the eye and see you…”

Jamie didn’t respond. His eyes found that faraway place again.

“I was…ashamed…I didn’t know what she’d say about the baby, what she’d say about…marrying…so soon. I didn’t know if she’d assume it was yours or think me some sort of heartless slut…”

“I thought ye’d be there.”

His eyes did not move, but the vein beneath his right eye bulged out, his face turning red. Claire exchanged a frightened look with John across the table, unsure if she should touch him or not.

“What…?”

“I showed up at Lallybroch and I hardly even touched my own sister because I thought you were there. I was demanding to see ye so much that I didna even hear them the first three times they told me that they hadna heard from ye since I was pronounced dead.”

“Jamie — ”

“I thought I’d find ye taking comfort in my family, our family.” His voice was dangerously low. “Instead I find ye married.”

“Jamie, please, you can’t possibly understand — ”

“Oh, I can’t?” His eyes tore away from the wall and bore into her, and John could feel their heat even from behind him.

“No, you can’t!” she shot right back, not at all timid anymore. “I’ll not presume to know what you’ve been through, but I’ll not have you angry at me for how I chose to deal with this! I was pregnant with your baby, Jamie. What the hell would you have had me do?”

“It was my idea,” John interrupted before he could stop himself. Perhaps this should have been left between them, but the fact that he was the one in the middle of it was indisputable.

Jamie whipped his head around to look at John, his eyes afire with betrayal.

“I stopped by to check on her after I found out,” John continued, keeping his voice as level as possible. “She was just sitting on the floor with the phone dangling from the cord…just…staring ahead. I had to let myself in. I was terrified for her.”

Claire’s eyes burned fiercely with tears at the memory. John swallowed thickly before continuing.

“The second I touched her it was like flipping a switch. She just collapsed on me and…”

“John.” She was pleading, begging.

“No, he needs to hear it. She won’t tell you, but I will.” John’s jaw hardened. “She was ready to bloody kill herself, Jamie. She was completely distraught. When she blurted out that she was pregnant I…offered immediately. I made you a promise. And I intended to make good on it. But promise or no…I wouldn’t have let her suffer alone like that.”

Jamie was crying silently now, unmoving.

“A baby needs a father in this world. A mother needs a husband. We did what we had to do to ensure that your child would be brought up right. Christ, Jamie…we did it for you.” John’s voice broke, and he flicked his eyes away from Jamie, staring at his cold food. “We thought it’s what you’d have wanted.”

“It’s…you have to understand, Jamie,” Claire cut in softly. “You and I…weren’t…married. Not really. I know we were, but we…weren’t. Legally. In a legal sense…I was pregnant out of wedlock. I was in an awful lot of trouble without John. Not to mention I…well…he’s right. I’d have wasted away and died if he hadn’t come to check on me that day.”

Her face burned with shame, but John met her eye again and smiled softly, his eyes glistening with affection for her.

“I’m sorry that you’re…hurt, and that you feel betrayed. And I am sorry for avoiding your family. But I will not be sorry for doing it. And neither will John. Because it was the right thing to do.” Her voice was strong, but her chin trembled.

“And I don’t…” Her voice finally broke again. “I don’t want to talk about this right now…you’re…you’re back.” She cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her again. “Look at me, love…” She sniffled and stroked his face with feather-light touches. “You’ve come home to me…to us. I never thought I’d be this happy again.”

Jamie was still stiff as a board, but the longer Claire spent stroking his face, John could see the tension start to roll away, see him melt against her.

And then, very suddenly, Jamie was weeping.

He fully melted against Claire, conforming to the mold of her body. She pressed his head into her breast and wept full-force as well.

“I’m sorry…Claire…mo chridhe, mo sorcha…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

John could not bear it anymore. He quietly stood up from the table and silently strode out of the kitchen, making his way into the bedroom.

Christ…was it even his bedroom anymore? He had to offer it to them tonight. They deserved it, they needed it.

Would he and Claire divorce? Would she move out with Jamie?

Christ…will I ever meet the child…?

“Damn you,” John cursed himself, sitting on the edge of the bed and burying his face in his hands. How dare he even think such things?

It’s not your baby and it never was. His father is back and you should be damned grateful.

And Lord, he was.

But his mind would not stop racing, would not stop asking: what now?

A light knock brought him from his thoughts; he hadn’t realized how long he’d been sitting like this, in the dark.

“Are you alright, darling?”

Her voice, as always, was driftwood in a stormy sea, and he clung to it for dear life and allowed it to bring him back to the surface.

“I’m…” He cleared his throat. “It’s all just a bit overwhelming.”

“I know.” She turned on the light and leaned against the doorway. “I told him I was going to check on you, he’s in the kitchen with some whisky.”

John nodded. “Is he…still angry…?”

“I don’t think so,” she said, but her voice wavered. “You could come back, you know, drink with us. You’re his family as much as I am.”

John’s stomach flipped at that, and he had to focus substantial amounts of energy to calm his heart.

“I’m…I’m alright. You’ll…want to go to bed soon?” He looked up at her finally, and she was flushed head to toe.

“I’ll take the sofa until we can figure out something more permanent.”

“John, no. I wouldn’t dream of putting you out — ”

“He is your husband, Claire. Or at least he should be.” He hadn’t meant to sound so bloody pathetic when he said that, but it was too late now. “He put that miracle inside you. You’ll share a bed tonight after months apart. It’s the least you deserve.”

Claire swallowed, then crossed to the bed. She embraced John rather awkwardly, being that she remained standing and he remained sitting on the bed, and then she kissed the top of his head.

“Thank you, darling.”

After a few minutes, John heard movement outside the bedroom, so he put on pajamas and gathered an extra pillow and blanket. He shuffled past Jamie to get to the couch, and felt his pulse quicken when a large, warm hand rested on his shoulder.

“Thank ye, a charaid.” His eyes held more warmth than they had since his return. “And I dinna just mean fer the bed. Ye’re…a good man. Man of honor. Kept yer word.”

John nodded solemnly. “Of course. It has been the greatest privilege to care for them.”

Before John knew what was happening he was being pulled into a fervent embrace, strong arms wrapped tightly around him. After only a moment’s hesitation, John returned the embrace, and then it was over.

John knew that this was Jamie’s way of apologizing for his behavior, and he was more than happy to accept.

Within the next few minutes, John was lying on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, wide awake.

Claire and Jamie were wide awake as well.

If they were passionate in camp…they were explosive now. John couldn’t say he blamed them, but dear God.

Jamie was quiet for a bit as Claire cried out to the heavens, and John could only imagine what his mouth was otherwise occupied with.

Shortly after that, there was an audible rhythm set, and John thought he might just pass out.

Claire was usually the loud one, but it was almost as if they were competing for that title tonight. Jamie was crying out almost as much as she; it almost sounded like sobbing. It probably was, from both of them.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…”

Every thrust was met with the words falling from Claire’s lips like a broken prayer.

At first it felt like a needle prick between John’s eyes.

“I love you — ” Prick. “I love you — ” Prick.

The longer it went on, however, the more it felt like a hammer to the chest. To his heart.

“Oh, Jamie! I love you! I love you!”

Over and over and over and over.

Overhearing them make love was nothing new; he and countless other saps in camp had heard it during the war. What was new was that John now knew the faces she made as well as the sounds, knew the way she tossed her head back and forth, the way her eyes hooded even as she stared her partner down, the way her lips remained parted as if in a state of perpetual preparedness for her next moan. He knew what her body looked like now, had seen it change with pregnancy. What was new was that she was legally his wife this time.

Most new was that John did not know who he envied most.

The answer had always been clear during the war. He would always listen to Jamie’s whispers of love and feel the deepest pangs of hurt knowing that they would never be meant for him, followed by guilt that he would even have a fraction of a thought of wishing to come between them.

It was foolish, anyway. When Claire touched herself for him to see, Jamie had always been there in bed with them, wedged right in between them. He’d always known that deep down. He had hardly touched her in those moments of shared intimacy; he didn’t think he was even capable. His touch could never live up to Jamie’s, even the ghost of it. He knew that. Claire’s keening and gasping and coy smiles were not for him. Could not have been.

Right?

Damn it to Hell!

Why should he want them to be? She was a woman!

Woman she may be…but she was yours. For a short time, she was yours.

And now he would lose her.

And how dare he feel grief for it? How dare he feel even remotely upset that Jamie was back? The love of her life had returned to her. How dare he feel anything but overjoyed for her?

He’s supposed to be the love of your life too, man.

Yes, yes, he still loved Jamie. He’d almost fainted dead away to see him standing in the doorway, almost kissed him instead of embracing him. As John had said, he’d probably want him until the day he died.

But he’d never had Jamie. Body or soul, he’d never been able to call him his. John cherished the kiss that Jamie had given him more than he could ever say, but one kiss did not make him his.

He’d had Claire’s body, that was clear enough. John was not fool enough to think he could ever possess her soul, not fully anyway. Parts of her that had died with Jamie were beyond reach forever. But the parts of her that remained, that smiled at him over tea in the morning, that grasped his hand at night, that called him Daddy as she touched her belly…those fragments of a woman had become his.

And he was losing it all.

The phrase “better to have loved and lost” was replaying over and over in John’s head, and he wanted to scream. No, it was decidedly not. To never know what it was like to possess somebody made it easier to part with them; in fact, there was nothing to part with to begin with. He could live with never having Jamie, because he’d never know what he was missing.

But he was not sure he would survive having Claire torn from him, now that he’d known what it was like to call such a remarkable woman his wife.

And the most damnably ridiculous part of it all was that she never loved him. How could she?

So how had he been fool enough to allow himself to love her?

It was these thoughts that carried John into a fitful sleep, into dreams of giggles and swimming amber eyes, of fiery red hair and electric blue.

——

The next thing John was conscious of was a pounding pain directly into his face.

“Jamie! No!”

If there was any mistaking it before, there certainly wasn’t now after he’d heard Claire scream. Jamie had punched him — repeatedly in the face. John’s eyes flew open, and he nearly cried out at the fury before him. Even in the dark, no light but the moon, and even through the swelling that was already present in both of his eyes, he could see the glowing red of Jamie’s face, the map of veins popping out under his eyes.

Jamie fisted John’s collar in both hands and yanked him up off his back, shaking him furiously in front of his face.

“Stop! Jamie — ”

“She’s a woman! What sort of sick pleasure d’ye get…?”

Oh…Good Lord.

“Huh?” Jamie growled, shaking him again fiercely. “What does it do fer ye to fuck my wife, John?”

“Jamie, please!”

John swallowed, tasting blood in his throat as he did, likely from a bloody nose. “You must understand — ”

“Must I?” Jamie growled, shaking him again, causing John’s teeth to rattle, biting his tongue. “By all means! Help me understand!”

“It wasn’t…I never intended for it to happen,” he stammered.

“It was my fault, Jamie, really — ”

“No, Claire, don’t,” John said frantically. No, she would not take any blame; she would not take any of Jamie’s rage. John would not allow it.

“Are ye implying that the news of my death deranged ye to such an extent that ye lost all reason and took him to bed by force?” Jamie shouted over his shoulder. “Is that what ye’d have me believe, man? Because unless I’ve been seriously misled regarding yer own nature, it would take substantial force to compel ye to any such action.”

“There was no force,” John said quickly. “From either party.”

“Ye went to her because — from desire?” Jamie actually laughed, tossing his head back mirthlessly. “And she let ye? I dinna believe ye.”

“We thought you were dead you bloody arsehole!” John spat, infuriated by Jamie’s inability to understand. “Both of us! Do you have any idea what that did to us…to Claire? We — we took too much to drink, far too much, and we spoke of you…nothing but you…and…Damn you! Neither one of us was making love to the other! We were both fucking you!”

Jamie’s jaw fell slack, but his grip did not loosen at all.

“It’s like I was saying, Jamie,” Claire’s voice punctured the silence. “It was…comfort, for both of us. For me, it was…familiar feelings in my body that I needed to feel again or I would die, even if my mind knew better that it wasn’t really you…”

“What about you, then?” Jamie shook him again, less violently, John noted. His voice was marginally softer as well. “There’s nothing familiar about a woman’s body to you, I ken it well.”

John gulped again, tasting more blood. “I…I can’t explain it.”

“Ye’d better bloody try, man.” His voice started resembling a growl again, and from the corner of his eye he could see Claire tense and step forward.

“It’s…she…” He looked helplessly to Claire, arms crossed over her chest, but she just sighed, shaking her head. She certainly couldn’t explain it any better than him. “She was yours, Jamie. I knew that. God, I knew it. Every breath she took I could hear your name in it. So it wasn’t about possessing her and taking her from you…it was about…possessing you. Through her.”

Jamie’s nostrils flared, his jaw hardened, but he did not speak.

“It’s…vulgar. I knew it then, and I know it now.” John couldn’t meet his eye. “I felt shameful for it. I knew it was wrong.”

“We both did.” Claire took another step forward, chancing a hand on Jamie’s shoulder.

Jamie flinched, jerking away from her touch.

“Do not touch me.”

Claire pulled her hand back as if scalded, unconsciously resting it on her belly as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Tell me,” Jamie said, low and dangerous. “Tell me exactly what happened, ye filthy wee pervert. Every word. Every motion. Everything.”

John got just enough breath to answer.

“No.”

In an instant, Jamie had transferred his grip to one hand and shoved his free fist into John’s stomach mercilessly. Claire screamed again as John doubled into himself, coughing helplessly.

“Stop it! You bloody bastard!”

Heedless of Jamie’s earlier warning, Claire seized both of Jamie’s shoulders and shook him with a might John did not know she possessed. Jamie dropped John and whirled on her. John tried to cry out, tried to move, but he could not.

Please don’t hurt her.

“What’ll you do? Beat me senseless like you did to him?” Claire challenged, jutting her chin up at him. John swore he could see smoke coming out of Jamie’s ears as he bore his gaze down on him. “Or are you quite finished acting like a fucking barbarian?”

“Ye foul mouthed bitch! Ye’ll no’ speak to me that way!” Jamie roared.

“Fuck you!” she shot right back. “You will not speak to me that way! Perhaps you weren’t aware, but I am not your wife! The law doesn’t acknowledge bloody handfasting. My husband is swollen and bleeding because a brute beat him like an animal! And you will let me tend to him or I will walk out that door and you will never see me again!”

John’s jaw went slack. He knew it was an empty threat; he knew Claire would endure anything to remain by his side; threats, rage, physical harm. She’d not be parted from him now, not ever again.

She shouldered past Jamie and sat on the edge of the couch, gently touching the swells of John’s face.

“Rags, clean water, and something cold from the icebox,” she commanded, not unlike John had once seen her do during the war. “Now.”

Jamie swore in Gaelic and kicked over the coffee table as he went, but he did as he was told.

“Oh, John…”

Her fierce front melted away, the fear returning to her eyes. “I’m so sorry…I had to tell him. It didn’t feel right. I thought he’d understand…I didn’t think he’d…”

She silenced immediately when John picked his eyes up, seeing Jamie reenter the room with the requested supplies, flicking the lamp on.

Try as she might, Claire could not get back that cold indifference she’d regarded Jamie with just minutes before, and she wept pitifully as she tended to John. At some point, Jamie reached out to touch her, having been hovering over them uselessly all the while.

“No,” she snapped.

John’s heart was in pieces. Never had he seen them at such odds with one another. Not once in all the years he’d seen them together.

And it’s my fault.

She directed John to hold the ice she’d wrapped in a rag over his left eye and told him to lie down. She’d determined he was not concussed and that nothing was broken. Just bruised, bloody, and oozing.

“Claire…”

Jamie sounded like a wounded animal.

“What do you want to know, Jamie?” Claire stood and faced him, her voice hoarse with tears. “Do you want to hear about how I tore his clothes off like a desperate slut? Do you want to hear about how I threw him onto the bed, how I rode him? Do you want to hear about how I forced his hands to touch all the places that you always touched? Do you want to hear how I screamed your name while I came around his cock? Is that what you want?”

She was fully weeping now, and John could tell it was physically hurting Jamie to not reach out and crush her to him.

“Do you want to hear how I…I vomited my guts out the first time I called somebody that wasn’t you this child’s father? Do you want to hear that I wished I could make it go away so that I wouldn’t feel guilty about killing myself? Does that make you feel better? Does that help? To know that I would have let myself, let your child die if it hadn’t been for John? Or perhaps you’d have preferred it that way.”

“Claire!”

“He saved me, Jamie. You were dead. And so was I until John unburied me. So don’t you dare…” Her voice cracked. “Don’t you dare make either of us feel guilty for doing what we needed to survive.”

John winced as his tears burned his wounded eyes.

“Claire…mo ghraidh…” Jamie began weeping as well. “Please…”

She swallowed, looking past him at the clock on the wall.

“Mo chridhe…” He sank to his knees before her, not daring to touch her, but gathering her robe into his hands instead. “I…I dinna deserve ye, Claire…”

She still would not look down at him.

“I’m…I’m no’ worthy of yer forgiveness…God knows I’m not…” His knuckles went white gripping the robe. “There’s…there’s a darkness in me, Claire…darkness that wasna there when ye last knew me…I tried to hide it…it’s eating me alive…and it’s gonnae eat you alive, too…”

She finally moved, looking down at the top of his head, being that his face was pressed into her robe.

“I dinna deserve forgiveness, so I willna ask. Just please…” His voice cracked. “Please dinna leave me…”

A sob escaped Claire’s lips.

“I dinna deserve to ask this of ye…but I need ye…I’ll die wi’out ye as ye nearly died wi’out me…”

“Get up, Jamie,” she said softly, touching the crown of his head. He looked up at her, face shining with tears. “Go to bed. Let me finish tending to John, and then I’ll be in.”

He maintained eye contact with her as he pressed a fervent kiss to the edge of her robe, and then departed to the bedroom. Claire sighed heavily and shakily when he was gone, and John sat up to grasp her hand.

“You don’t really mean to go in there?”

She looked down at him and squeezed his hand. “He won’t hurt me.”

He wanted to believe her…but had the man not just said that there was a darkness in him that he could not control?

“I’ve seen this war do things to men that…that are beyond comprehension,” John said, and a chill ran down his spine. “Some of them come out completely different men.”

“He’s still Jamie,” she insisted. “I’m sorry he hurt you, I am. I feel sick over it. But me…he’d never hurt me.”

John sighed and gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m right here if you need.”

She nodded, squeezing him back. “I’m just there if you need. Come get me if anything starts bleeding.”

And with that, Claire disappeared after Jamie into the bedroom, and John was lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of the throbbing in his face, and the sound of broken crying from a shattered man.

#outlander #outlander au #outlander fanfiction #claire fraser #jamie fraser #john grey #lord john grey #john x jamie #john x claire #jjc #john x jamie x claire #throuple #ot3

43 notes · View notes