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lorelune · 22 days

Text

of carnage

|| blade x reader || E/18+ || shared toxicity, band au || wc: 8.8k || ao3 ||

You and Blade are mutually assured destruction. You know this, and yet it does not stop you from chasing after him.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: well hello :3c this fic is part of a trade i did for some LOVELY selfship art with MOST BELOVED @rabbbitseason!! they asked for toxic bladie and reader and i come to DELIVER 🙏 setting and au are heavily inspired by my time in my local music scene and all of the 💀that came with it. i'm glad it can be all get repurposed into blade smut 🫶 THANK YOU!! to bitti for giving me so many fun wants to craft around!! THANK YOU!!! as well to @ofmermaidstories and @2kmps for beta reading!! now, please mind the tags on this one and enjoy <3

CW: dark content, band au, dubcon, pain during sex, bleeding during sex, toxic relationship between blade and reader, angst, hurt/a little comfort, manipulation, gaslighting by blade and the reader @ themselves, face slapping, spanking, spitting, reader smokes cigarettes, reader drinks, self destructive reader, past blade/dan heng, implied unrequited jing yuan/dan heng, kernels of jing yuan/reader

“Are you going to the gig tonight? Fu Xuan asks as if the answer isn’t obvious already.

You crane your neck back to look at her from your roost in front of your full-length mirror. Your knees dig into the carpet and the tips of your fingers are tinged with black. You’ve spent the better part of the last thirty minutes attempting to perfectly smudge the smoky line of eyeliner on your lower lash line. A tube of dark, red lipstick (his color) and sticky gloss rests on the fluffy carpet beside your folded knees.

“Of course.” You can’t make yourself smile, not when your stomach is in knots. “Are you?”

“I should if you are going,” she huffs, leaning against your doorframe. “You need a chaperone.”

(She’s probably right.)

“Please tell me you’re joking.” You grimace and turn away, unable to meet her gaze. She’s too good at reading you. “I’ll be just fine on my own, thank you very much.”

“... He’s playing, isn’t he?”

“I mean, yeah.” You rub more aggressively at the widening smears around your eyes. “But that’s not the only reason.”

“Sure.”

“It’s not, really.” You meet her gaze with a glance in the mirror. It’s hard to keep, her stare intense and full of judgment— (And worry.) “There’s a bunch of good bands tonight. There’s a touring group— all the way from Pier Point.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have no faith in me, do you?” You pout, keeping your voice light, and hoping it comes off as a bit of a jest.

When you finally turn to face Fu Xuan fully, she dips to sit beside you, on her own folded knees. She plucks your soon-to-be-worn lipstick off the ground and uncaps it, just long enough to see the color, before sighing and closing it once more with a pop.

“Not really, no.” Fu Xuan leans against your side, cheeks puffing out. “Not when it comes to him—”

“You can say his name, you know.” You smear chalky highlighter on your cheeks with your fingertips. “It’s not a slur. He’s just some guy.”

“‘Some guy’,” She groans. “If he’s really just some guy, why don’t we skip the gig tonight and stay home? We can order in some nice food, and I could invite Qingque.”

“... I—”

“You know that going is a bad idea, right?” Fu Xuan sighs. “We’ve gone over this before.”

“I’m aware of that.” You can’t suppress your scowl any longer, turning to face her. “Blade is fine—”

“He treats you like shit.”

“He treats everyone like that.”

“That doesn’t make it better. If anything, that makes it worse. You deserve better.” Fu Xuan sounds genuinely upset. “And you can do better. Easily. With literally anyone else, even if you find them at one of your nasty house shows. Try entertaining the thought?”

“You don’t have to be so—” You turn to her, fist balling up on your knees— “So mean about it.”

“It’s messy.”

“And it’s not your business.”

“It’s not!” Fu Xuan says, exasperated as she rolls her eyes. “I really shouldn’t even be bothering, but you are my friend. And it is painful to watch you chase the tail of a man who will hardly give you the time of day or bare minimum respect. Excuse me for showing concern.”

“Your concern is noted.” As it has been before. “But I’m fine. I wasn’t lying earlier— there’s other groups I want to see tonight. You... don’t have to come along just to babysit. I’ll be alright. I know you hate them.”

“I do.”

Fu Xuan crosses her arms and exhales, something angry and burning. “At least let me drive you. I can pick you up later too. Rather I do than some stranger or him—”

“Blade. His name, Fu Xuan.”

“Blade.”

“God, you do say it like a slur.” You roll your eyes, the pit in your stomach having become larger and darker. You swipe below your eyes and thank an Aeon or two that your eyeliner is waterproof.

...

The house venue is a bit out of town, in the rural suburbs on a lot that’s big enough to host a crowd and not bother the nearest neighbors. Fields streak by during your journey, humming with junebugs and chirping with late- summer crickets. Low hills roll by as a harvest moon rises, waxing and half-full.

Fu Xuan drops you at the curb and idles as you collect yourself. A crossbody bag carries your essentials (your phone, your sticky lip products, a lighter to go with the pack of cigarettes that you actually don’t smoke, and two condoms shoved against the bottom). You fiddle with the strap against your shoulder.

“Call me when you need me to pick you up, okay?” Fu Xuan taps the steering wheel. “I’ll be awake.”

“Okay, mom.”

“I mean it—”

“I know.”

“Don’t go home with Blade. Or let him drive you home. He handles a car like he’s trying to kill himself.”

It’s a fair assessment but you still shake your head, trying to seem good-natured despite the rot you feel curling in the back of your throat. Bile, rising, before you have a drop of liquor in you. It’s a little pathetic; you’ll really think so in retrospect. For now, you walk toward the venue itching for a drink in your hand or familiar company. Thundering bass and ripping guitar vibrate from the basement windows, shaking the ground beneath your feet.

A crowd clusters at the back of the house. Folks swap cigarettes and clutch cans of cheap beer and flasks decorated with stickers. You quickly survey, looking for, searching for him—

(He’s usually out here before his set, hiding away somewhere with Kafka sharing cigarettes and glaring at anyone dumb enough to make a pass at her.)

A hand grabs you by the shoulder, and you nearly jump out of your skin. “Oh my gosh, you’re here! I didn’t know you’d be coming to the gig!”

It’s March, you know. She is easy to identify with the sweet, candy-like perfume she wears and the slight press of her almond-shaped gel manicure into your shoulder. March turns you abruptly, throwing her arms around your shoulders and squeezing. Too tightly, knocking the air out of you in an instant. You give her a tentative hug back and pull away quickly. The contact scalds you.

“Have you seen—?”

“Blade?” March pouts and tilts her head. “You know, I feel like you only come to these things to see that guy. He’s nothing special. And I have seen him. He was off sulking a while ago, by the sheds in the back of the lot.”

“... I’ll have to check. Thanks, March.”

She sighs as you walk away from her, before calling out to Stelle (who is always a step or two behind her anyways.)

You feel— bad about how you treat them. They’re both good people. So is the third in their trio, Dan Heng, a man with a beautiful face and an eerily calm demeanor, especially when compared to his companions. The group of them was introduced to you back when you first started attending these shows, hanging around the scene, and sweating in the basement of mildew-filled houses. They were some of your first friends, and easy to mesh with when you gave yourself the time and space to. Stelle always had a flask with lukewarm vodka or tequila, and March kept a case of seltzers in her trunk. Dan Heng was the ever-reliable sober cab.

(It was nice back then. Before you had become so entangled with Blade and the subsequent social politics that came with chasing and occasionally fucking the hot, albeit emotionally-unavailable bassist of HUNTERS. It was far easier to hold those friendships than to orbit around a man who you can never tell if he hates you or wants to fuck you in his back seat.)

You find Blade tucked away around the side of the house, cloaked in shadow while taking long drags of a cigarette. The cherry glows in the dim light. From the basement window peeking out from the ground, a red glow pours out, illuminating the well-worn combat boots he wears. They’re crusted in filth, falling apart at the toe.

(You’d still lick them if he asked you to. Hump them if he asked you twice.)

Another figure stands across from him. Serene, arms crossed, with storm eyes visible even in the poor lighting. Dan Heng keeps a perfectly neutral expression as he speaks, hushed, to Blade who wears a scowl so perfectly that it looks like he’s carved of immovable stone rather than not flesh.

You’re not quite within earshot. You can’t make out their words, only their tone. It’s an angry exchange, one that’s charged with heat lighting and ire. Blade spits something at Dan Heng, venomous in his tone like he so easily is. Dan Heng replies back something so cooly that it’s like a low-tide wave lapping at your feet.

If you were better, you would turn around and leave. Neither of them know that you’re here, so close. It’s invasive to listen, but you know that there’s... history between Blade and Dan Heng. You’ve always wondered what it is, and considering that Blade has the emotional availability of a rotting vegetable, you won’t be getting those details out of him.

Maybe witnessing their dynamic (yet again) could provide you some clarity—?

(And maybe, if you know why Blade was so, so hurt by Dan Heng, you can do better. You can be the exact thing that Blade wants, and then he will want you, just as much as you want him.)

You listen more keenly:

“I’ve asked you to stop booking shows where the Express is already playing.”

“And I’ve asked you to get off my dick and stop being such a priss, but it doesn’t look like you’ll ever do that.”

“I’m asking you to be reasonable.”

“Sure, because clearly asking me to not play prime gigs is ‘reasonable’. Not to mention you should be taking this up with Kafka or Elio, not me. Did you just want an excuse to talk, Imbibitor Lunae—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What, have something else you’d prefer to be called? I remember plenty of things you liked hearing. Want me to name a few?”

“Hold your tongue—”

A stick cracks behind you and you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Bladie~” Kafka purrs behind you, hands sliding up over your shoulders, hot breath over the back of your neck. “We’re on soon. Soundcheck in five, Firefly has a vodka shot for you if you want.”

You’re frozen.

Blade grunts from around the house, and as he does, Dan Heng emerges from the shadows quickly, on hastened feet, and nearly stumbles when you see him. Your expression must be— fucking stupid. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed as Kafka runs her nails up and down your neck.

As Dan Heng practically sprints off, Kafka croons quietly into your ear, “And what are you doing all the way back here? Looking for Bladie again?”

You don’t need to speak for her to know your answer. Blade’s steps thud against the ground over the short, dry grass.

Part of you knows you should scramble away and pretend you weren’t just lurking like a stray dog begging for kitchen scraps. It’s humiliating to be caught by Kafka (yet again), doing the same shit on a different day. Another part of you, one which is much louder, more persuasive, and saccharine sweet, urges you to face Blade. If you get caught in his maw, good.

Your hands shake as Blade emerges from the dark.

He looks like death. Ghostly pale skin with deep purple eyebags, like bruises. His eyes are cut carnelian, ethereal and volcanic against his parlor. A cigarette hangs between his plump lips, threatening to burn and melt the pieces of his fringe that hang around his cheeks. Long, wild black hair, tipped in faded crimson, falls down his back in frizzy waves. His arms bulge obscenely in the tight, black shirt he wears. A carved jade pendant hangs off of his belt.

Blade stares you down and his scowl deepens, turning even more sour. He mutters something under his breath, something unintelligible but cruel. It’s not the first time he’s spoken to you that way. He’s done so more loudly and more brutally.

You—

(Hate it. You love it. Well, maybe not love, but you crave the way that Blade is awful to you. You’re horrible.)

“Better get inside now,” Kafka hands drift to your waist, tugging on the belt loop of your pants. You let out a little yip. “I’m sure the front row is filling up fast. No need to spy on Bladie if you get a prime spot during the actual set, hm?”

She’s right; she usually is.

Kafka leaves you with an elegant twirl, humming one of HUNTERS songs from their new EP under her breath. You know the tune. You’ve been playing it on repeat for the last two months.

It’s easy to follow the jarring trills of soundcheck as you float inside the home, following the trail of people headed toward the basement. Descending down the rickety, railingless stairs into thick, humid air that reeks of sweat, beer, and fledging mold. Down, down, down you go— maybe to hell, where you perhaps belong.

...

Moon Drinker by HUNTERS

You taught me that the high moon

Was our lovers’ sigil

How quickly did you throw away our runes

How empty is your cup

Moon Drinker

That you would break mine too

...

The gig is decent. That’s how these shows tend to be and you enjoy them just enough to tolerate the stench and humidity of grungy basements like this one.

Three bands play, IP3, the Express, and HUNTERS. The interest you expressed to Fu Xuan about Pier Point’s IP3 was a lie, but they’re not bad. The frontman, a blond with eyes like inverted crystals, has a sultry edge to his voice that verges on sexual. It’s a cleaner sound that rips into something dirtier, filthier, as their set goes on.

The Express follows IP3. You’ve seen them more times than you can count, but the trio is still nice to listen to, even now. March always plays with the crowd in between her harmonies in a way that riles folks up just enough without causing abject chaos. The band plays a new song you don’t know, one that is angry and loud and so unlike their normal sound. Dan Heng is on vocals, rather than solely on guitar, and you’re reminded of how mournful and melodic his voice can be. The exact words of the piece get eaten by the cement foundation of the basement, but you imagine that it’s an elegy.

HUNTERS is last on.

They usually are, as their music is the loudest and gnarliest, and they’re typically the most well-known (even if they have a shit reputation and their crowds leave trashed venues in their wake). You feel— insane when they start playing. You know all of their songs, even if you don’t really like their music. Kafka’s voice is hypnotic in a way that’s disarming, even on a recording. Silver Wolf is too good of a drummer for the caliber of band that they are, and Firefly shreds easily on guitar, trained on strings since childhood, but using her talents in a grunge band rather than on a world stage.

Blade’s bass playing is messy. Though his tempo is sure and unwavering, the actual rhythm drags and punches in intervals that verge on unnerving. You have never been able to place if this is due to whatever rage and poison he carries into music making, or if his fingers are as arthritic as Kafka jokes that they are.

It doesn’t really matter, in the end. The sound blends together in a cacophony that sounds like the way bursted flesh looks. If you could taste the way their newest EP sounded, it would be the iron tang of blood and the acrid burn of bile.

You’re fucked for it— for Blade. You’ve been since you first became tangled in this web.

A pit opens in the middle of the crowd, small at first, but rapidly widening, with more and more people throwing themselves into it. They bounce around and bash against the individuals at the sides of the pit, only to be shoved back in a moment later.

You try to stay away from it. Instead, you watch Blade like a fucking pervert.

The basement has gotten hot. Steamy, if you look hard enough at the air that barely circulates against the low, pipe-ridden ceiling. Blade has thrown his hair up in a high ponytail, wisps of hair still cling to his neck and temples, sweat visibly rolling down his neck. His shirt sticks to his toned chest as the overclocked speakers try to keep up with the HUNTERS most recently released song— ‘MOON DRINKER’.

Blade doesn’t look at you. Not once.

His eyes are fixed elsewhere, deeper in the crowd, beyond the bodies in the pit and those who hang at the outskirts by the house’s ancient boiler. Blade’s attention is fixed on— something (someone. You can assume who.) Not once does his gaze drift down his instrument, and never does he acknowledge the way you stand in the front row, so close, with your attention squarely on him.

(This is normal. So normal, it’s painful.)

The pit expands even further, widening as more gig-goers jump into mosh as one song bleeds into the next. You almost get swirled in yourself as a stranger slams into your side with enough force to nearly knock you to the ground.

A broad, warm hand catches you by your bicep, hoisting you up before you even have a chance to fall.

“Be careful now,” It’s Jing Yuan (who is much too powerful and rich to be at a basement show, but yearning pushes you both to do stupid, nonsensical things) who speaks directly into your ear, so you can hear him even as your ears ring muffled. “Are you alright?”

You turn to nod at him, flashing him a thumbs up and nervous smile. The cologne he wears permeates the space around you, overpowering the sweat and mildew with ease. He gives you an easy smile and a squeeze, before letting you. He sidesteps your frame to be closer to the pit, crossing his arms over his chest and shielding you from the worst of the throng.

You’re grateful for the cover; it would be embarrassing to topple over right in front of Blade.

It takes you a moment to recenter yourself, lost in Jing Yuan’s scent and the roar of Firefly’s final, aching guitar riffs. You look back to HUNTERS once more as they finish out their set in a loud, carnal flourish. The expensive speakers they’ve dragged with them are going to fucking blow out—

Blade is staring at you.

Not into the crowd, toward the placid face and cold heart that so clearly plague him, not to his bandmates or instrument, but looking at you.

In the red-lit basement, his eyes nearly glow, unnatural in their anger as they always are. It seemed more concentrated, feral and crystallized in its intensity. Rage. You want to cower under it while your insides feel hot and frigid all at once. He pierces so easily, so thoughtlessly. As the crowd erupts into cheers and shouts as the set ends, you cannot move. Staked in place.

Not once does Blade look away from you, and his mouth does not deviate from the twisted frown he wears.

...

Swordmaker by HUNTERS

If I were forged alongside you,

Do you think I would forgive you then?

If iron was your skin,

Steel your lungs

and lead your heart,

You would be easier to hold.

Empty are memories

Full is the garden

And bloody is the blade.

…

You should be better than this.

Blade slams you up against the back of the shed, the motion jarring and far too fast to be pleasant. Your head knocks painfully against the wood and peeling paint, and despite how you whimper with the impact, Blade doesn’t react. He doesn’t seem to care.

(You know he doesn’t.)

He hikes your leg up over his hip and grinds against your core through your pants. The motion is rough, clumsy and far too harsh to be pleasurable. The dry friction through your panties makes you squirm and dig your nails into his shoulders. Blade grunts in your ear. You think he likes the pain.

The gig was only let out half an hour ago, and plenty of people are still milling around. Whispers are circulating about if and where there will be an afterparty. You weren’t paying much attention to them— they’re easy to ignore— especially when Blade had been dragging you by the wrist just far enough away from the main house to fuck without being overtly noticeable.

(Barely, though. Blade can be loud and you can be loud when you’re with him. You’re tempting fate to be caught, seen with him in this way. It’s an open secret that you’re the scraps that Blade entertains himself with, but you would rather not be caught with your literal pants down.)

Blade smells like cigarettes and sweat. The scent of unclean smoke tangles in his unruly hair as you get a grip on it and tug. The juncture of his neck has the faintest hint of some cologne you’re sure he doesn’t know the name of and stale sweat. You press your lips there and dare to drag your tongue across his skin and taste him. It’s not a good taste, not necessarily, but you love it. Salty and filthy. (It’s disgusting, but familiar and morosely comforting.) You are drunk on it and it makes you feel pathetic at the same time.

A growl sounds in your ear as Blade pins you with his weight to the shed. Dragging you back from his neck, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him fully.

“Don’t leave marks.” He paralyzes you with his stare and sneer.

“I’d never.” You try to sound earnest, even if it’s a lie. Because you would— you’d bite and tear at his neck (like he does at yours) until the skin there is black and blue. Happily, you would leave hickies above his collar. Split his lip and bite his jaw hard enough to bleed. You could wear his blood on your teeth and smile for once at these fucking gigs.

Instead, you do not bite him. You just let Blade maul you as he desires.

He grinds against your core. The pressure is unpleasant at this point, too much and too little all at the same time. When you whimper now, he just ignores you and slips his hands under your shirt. He grabs your waist in both hands and squeezes.

“Turn around,” says Blade, already twisting you himself, so your front is pressed against the shed.

“H-Here?” You laugh nervously. Despite your... reputation, something cold, unwelcome and uncomfortable settles in you. “C-Can’t we go to your car? Or inside?”

“Maybe later.”

(It’s awful. It’s sick, the way your heart flutters at the implications of ‘later’. ‘Later’ means more of him. More of Blade’s time, his touch, his hardly-there care. More scraps for you to gorge yourself on, more time to beg for more. It’s sick. It’s sick how fucked you are for him.)

Blade reaches around your front to undo the button at the top of your trousers. In a swift motion, he has them around your thighs. Just enough that he can bend you over and access your cunt with some amount of ease. He keeps your panties on at first (he usually does this. You’re never sure why. You can delude yourself into thinking it’s him taking his time with you, but you know that that is a lie).

Blade places one of his hands on the back of your neck to flatten you against the shed, while the other must be unbuttoning his own pants to get his cock out, based on the jingling of metal and shred of a zipper. You swallow, your mouth dry. You’re dry, but you know that if you try to touch yourself to prep at this point, Blade will only be meaner.

The most he does is run two fingers over your slit, over your panties. It’s barely enough contact on your clit to be felt, but you gasp and shudder anyway. Canting your hips back, you try to encourage more contact. Anything he’ll give you.

He sighs behind you. Disappointed. Aggravated. It makes you want to cry.

Blade peels down your panties. The cold air shocks you, your core tightening up, but you hardly have time to adjust to the temperature before Blade’s equally cold hands fully part your folds. He sighs again, pulling away only to spit on his fingers, and smear his saliva around your hole. It feels dirty. You feel dirty.

When Blade pulls away, you whine at the loss of contact (at how cold it is, at how the crowd milling around smoking cigarettes and cheap weed is just on the other side of this dilapidated shed crows and laughs into the night). You swear you can recognize March’s giggle above the din of conversation.

You’re brought back to your entanglement with a harsh slap to your ass. Harsh and audible. The sound that escapes your lips is choked and high.

“Don’t get distracted,” Blade huffs. He spits again, presumably on his dick.

You nod, latching onto the pain radiating from slap to your ass. As if sensing it, Blade lays down another strike. This one is hotter, harder. He isn’t holding back. It is sure to bruise the tender flesh there. A mark. Something that will tangibly ache, something leftover from your tryst.

You could cry.

The velvety head of Blade’s cock nudges your folds. He brackets you into the wall, arms on either side of you. Heat radiates off his chest and sinks into your spine.

“‘Feels good?” He asks, voice hoarse as he coats himself in your meager slick.

“Y-yeah,” you lie. It’s not enough to feel good. You don’t care.

Blade seems content enough with your answer as he bears down on you. Flattening you to the dirt-covered shed, he hitches his hip down, then up, trying to fit the tip of his cock into your hole. He maneuvers your hips as he pleases, grunting when the tip of him catches on your cunt. When you dare to whine, even the smallest sound, he cracks his hand down on your ass again. Your vision speckles into darkness with the shot of pain and—

(The roar of anxiety and subsequent shame when you realize how much quieter the milling crowd nearby has become.)

“Hold still.” Blade's voice has sunk low, gravely with the cigarettes he’s been smoking all evening.

The next time his cock touches your opening, he presses in without hesitation.

It’s—

It’s too fucking much.

It is, it always is, every single fucking time he fucks you. Any prep he gives you is perfunctory. Blade will never lavish you with attention, not in the way that you probably need. That you—

(Might even deserve.)

No, the most that Blade will do is fuck you filthy behind a shed, near some of his more well-adjusted peers and probably come inside of you. On past occasions, he has let you suck him off in the backseat of his car. He’s only accidentally (‘accidentally’) came on your face a few times. Less than ten, more than five. Once, he ate you out for a few minutes, but you swear to god he was groaning someone else’s name as he did.

(You’re fucking pathetic.)

This is always too much. Blade is too big. Too big, even if you were stretched and primed with a few fingers like would be right and proper. As tight and dry as you are, it’s painful. He has to grind into your cunt with rolling little thrust so he can fit himself in at all. Each one shocks a breath out of you, a shattering, fragile sound.

When Blade bottoms out, he lays flat over your back. The weight of him is suffocating. His corded muscle is all dead weight above you as his cock twitches inside you. You can’t tell if he’s idling to allow you some time to adjust, or purely for his own leisure. You can’t be sure. You don’t want to ask him either.

“You’re tight.” Blade’s voice threatens to break.

(Of course you are. He’s the only person you will let fuck you, and these trysts only occur every few weeks, when there’s a show that you can be cornered at.)

He bucks into you, deeper still. The head of his cock is touching parts of you that shouldn’t be touched.

You whimper, “Blade—”

He growls in response. It’s a raspy and low tone that makes arousal burn in your gut and leak down your thighs. (You hope so anyway— it’s more wet and you don’t think it hurts enough that you’re bleeding.) Blade fucks you in earnest, then. There’s no delay, no waiting, no potential for momentary, perceived niceties. He pulls out of you almost completely, then thrusts back into you in one single motion. The friction burns and your vision wavers.

(You still moan like a whore.)

You feel— dirty. Disgusting. Pathetic as he fucks you like. You don’t feel like a person as he fucks you; you never do. How could you? The grip he uses on your hips is too bruising and the force and strength he’s using to brutalize your cunt is just too much. He fucks you like he’s taking anger out on a piece of drywall. Blade shares physically with you in the way a dog shreds a chew toy to bits, then leaves it on the ground to fester.

Blade grunts next to your ear, nipping there.

He doesn’t kiss you— well, not often. He can’t with your current position. You wouldn’t expect him to anyway. Sometimes he leaves a ring of dark hickies across your neck, like a collar. You like those, but he always waits an extra long time to see you after he marks you like that.

(You presume to make sure that the bruises have fully yellowed, then faded. A clean canvas.)

Blade’s pace increases, just before he pulls out. His cock rests on the cleft of your ass and he tips his forehead to rest on the shed, just beside yours.

“You’re still dry.”

“Sorry—”

He cuts you off. “It’s fine.”

...

It apparently isn’t fine.

Blade drags you toward the house. He barks at someone, then Kafka, to find a room. You feel dazed as he does. Out of your body, as you receive a number of knowing and unknowing stares from the lingering show-goers who cluster around a firepit.

(How many of them heard you just now? How many know the exact sounds you make when in barely-there pleasure? In certainly-there pain? How many of them know the sound of Blade’s too-big cock slapping into your too-dry cunt?)

It makes you feel sick to think about.

A room must be found for the two of you, as Blade drags you up the stairs of the back porch.

As he does, he hesitates.

(He has so rarely done this.)

His gaze is not on you; it pierces elsewhere in the dark. A floodlight off the back of the house illuminates a section of the yard, and just beyond its reach, nestled somewhere between the dark and light, he fixates. His jaw sets and locks.

There are figures, you realize.

They’re easy to identify once you actually focus. One is lithe and short-haired, the other broad-shouldered and long-haired. Dan Heng and Jing Yuan. Speaking on the outskirts. It feels private. Their attention turns from their hushed conversation to the two of you as Blade stares daggers and swords into them. As if he could pierce them with nothing more than his silent rage and angry eyes.

You freeze.

Their expressions are obscured in the lowlight, but you can almost feel the looks they give you. Like a sickly mucus that gets stuck to you and rolls down your flesh in slow, cold globs.

Dan Heng (once so dear to you, still probably dear to you—) looks guarded, thought darkened. Contempt twists his expression, anger following just after. You’d ever wager that he’s disgusted, maybe. Probably with you, because he knows you’re better than this. Beside him, Jing Yuan wears an expression of careful passivity, of geniality, as he always does, but it’s tinged with something sad and old. For all parties involved in this silent, momentary exchange.

Jing Yuan regards you directly, slowly blinking at you, as though he was a large house cat intent on making you feel safe, and not a presence that only drives the bubbling anxiety in you higher.

It’s a seconds-long encounter that stretches for an eternity. You cannot make yourself move. You cannot feel anything other than rotten and small.

Blade lets out a harsh exhale and yanks you away. The scene breaks and you’re dragged inside. He whispers under his breath, vitriol-tinging his tone. Your panties feel sticky and wet as you walk.

Kafka had found a room for you, on the second floor of the house. God knows whose it actually is. You don’t get a good look at the room as Blade pushes you inside.. It’s dim, the only light is licking in from the dirty window, an afterburn from the raging bonfire outside. You hear muffled voices still, leaking in like a draft.

Blade locks the door and pushes you onto the unmade bed.

It’s a cheap mattress with flannel sheets. It smells like old weed smoke and cheap incense. Fu Xuan would tell you that you deserve better than this. You think you might.

Blade climbs on top of you, jaw still locked, and eyes far away.

(You do wonder what happened between him and Dan Heng. Something did. Something gutting and heartbreaking— you hear it when Blade sings. A betrayal, an intangible knife cut but still so painful. Dan Heng has always spoken about Blade with a type of protective neutrality. He warned you to never get involved with Blade. To stay away, to not get on Blade’s bad side, and if something did entangle you with him, Dan Heng could sort it out. He has always cared so fiercely for those he loves; it’s a shame that you have squandered it.)

(Blade is a sentimentalist. Blade is so held in the past that it chokes him. It always has, during every moment you’ve shared with him. He lingers in the bloody past, he holds it in his hands with a grip that’s meant to snap bird wings and flay flesh. He hates Dan Heng. He still loves him, though. You see it on his face sometimes. You hear it in Blade’s music. The ache, the death, the unending grief and mourning and rage that the man simply won’t let go of.)

(It is obsession.)

It shouldn’t make you bitter to think about. Yet, it does. It’s not your place to hold those types of feelings, let alone express them. For so many reasons, Blade will never see you as anything more than a cheap fuck. You think Dan Heng is the primary one. Over time, you’ve grown bitter. Resentful.

Blade pulls off your shirt in one swift move. He’s slower than he usually is. More deliberate. His hands are shaking, like how they do just after he finishes a set. It’s… off—

You hate it. You hate that the lingering pain of someone else will effect Blade more than you ever, ever could in the present.

You grab a fistful of his hair and tug. His breath catches as you do.

”What the fuck is your deal?” You sneer at him. There’s a cruel edge in your voice that does not sound like you. Blade brings out the worst in you, and you fall prey to it, so easily.

Blade glances up at you, eyes sharp like cut gems. He says nothing.

”You and Dan Heng,” you laugh. You don’t mean to— you don’t, you don’t— and you yank Blade’s hair so he has to look at you better. “It’s pathetic, you know. How you look at him like a kicked fucking dog. What happened between the two of you, anyways?”

Blade freezes. So do you.

You’ve misstepped so brutally. So stupidly and tragically and idiotically. You’ve pushed too hard for what—?

Blade is on his haunches in an instance and he slaps you across the face.

Your head follows the force of the impact, forcing your face to the side. Your cheek smarts. It wasn’t— that hard. Blade is strong. He could do worse. Still, it shocks you. The pain is enough to make you gasp and reel.

”What the fuck—“

”Don’t,” Blade grabs your jaw, “open your mouth about things you know nothing about. You should know better.”

You should. You do.

”I could know more, if you ever told me, I don’t know— anything?” You laugh in his face, manic behind your eyes. You’re crushing the delicate nature of your cheap arrangement like how a child would crush a flighty butterfly’s papery wings.

Blade shakes his head, smothering a laugh. He wrangles you forward, half-off risen from the bed, and parts your lips with his thumb. Before you can react, bite, claw— he is raising himself higher than you, dwarfing you in height, and spitting down into your mouth, onto your tongue.

”You don’t know when to shut up, do you?” He pats the side of your face, over the cheek that he struck. It burns. In another world, this touch would be tender. Here, you can only wince.

Before you can reply, continue to run your mouth and rile him up further, Blade kisses you.

It shocks you, stuns you.

He— he hasn’t ever kissed you before. It’s never been an explicit boundary, but never once during these trysts has Blade ever initiated this type of contact. It has felt dangerous to do so yourself. Something that’s too intimate, too personal to share. The core of your entanglement is the way he uses you. It’s impersonal.

A kiss, you think, implies something more tender.

You gasp into his lips, and he takes the opportunity to all but violate the inside of your mouth. His tongue plunders inside, licking at his own spit that you have yet to swallow. A noise chokes off in the back of your throat. Something desperate and shocked that you hardly recognize. It’s filthy. He nips at your lips and pushes you back down.

Blade devours you.

It’s too much, really. It’s a gesture of tenderness that has been so thoroughly mutilated, calling it a kiss feels paltry. The way his lips are on your own is much more like an argument and a subsequent conquest. One in which you lose ground. He nips at your lower lip, snags it between his teeth, and tugs it as he pulls away.

You pant, the sound of your own breath roars in your own ears. Your hands are still buried in his hair, grip unyielding, anchoring you.

Blade smiles, something poisonous and satisfied. You are too drunk on the singular kiss he gives you to care that much.

“That’s all it takes, is it?” He laughs, the sound dark and rolling, like the sound of an earthquake cracking the earth.

He already knows you’ll beg for scraps. God forbid he gives you even a morsel more.

The bed squeaks as he flips you by your hips so you’re laid flat, belly-down on the dirty sheets. Blade spanks your still-clothed ass for good measure before rustling around behind you. Assumedly to disrobe, just enough to fuck you. Assumedly, to ignore the condoms you brought (knowing he would disregard them—). Assumedly, to fuck you with every inch of your life.

You want it. You want him so badly it physically hurts.

(Or, maybe you tore while he had you behind the shed. Who is to say?)

Blade clamors behind you, shaking, arthritic hands tugging your pants by the waistband. He doesn’t even bother to unzip them this time. Your panties get pulled down along with them, and they get tossed elsewhere in the barely-lit room. Blade spits behind you, and a sound of too-dry stroking follows.

“D-do you want me to suck you off?” you ask with a hum. You’d let him fuck your face, if he asked. Or, if he wanted. Blade wouldn’t ask.

“No.”

“Just let me know.”

Blade sighs behind you, but you think little of it.

You brace yourself up on your elbows, lowering your upper half to be flat against the bed, and arching your hips as high as they’ll go. It’s as if to make yourself look appetizing. You hope it entices Blade, even a little.

(Please, you need him to want you. You need him to want you so badly. Please, please, please—)

The head of Blade’s cock rubs as your hole, down to your clit, then back up again a few times. He’s so hot, it’s like he is burning you. Contact that scalds. The contact against your clit is... nice. It’s the most warm up he has graced you with in a while. You could crave more, but settle for this.

“C’mon Blade,” you whine. Your voice sounds airy. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t reply, not with his voice. The rocking of his hips becomes more pronounced, and the slide of him against you becomes slicker. Still too big, too hot, but wet at least. Which is a bonus. Pre and blood are probably leaking onto the shaft at least a little bit too.

It makes it easier once he slides home in a single blow.

It’s too fucking deep— especially with this angle. The head of his cock presses against your deepest parts, bruises them in a place where no one can see or feel but you. Blade is huge, the girth of him stretches you as his hips rest against your ass.

A wretched noise bubbles up past your lips. Something between a cry and a plea, for more, for less— to go home, to be in a warm, clean bed with someone who actually cares— you aren’t sure. Your desires have been twisted up and wrong for so long, you can’t tell what you really want.

It makes you feel rotten, and then there’s only one thing you want.

(To hurt.)

Blade fucks you, then. Fully in, fully out of. Long and deep thrusts that carve out your insides in a brutal way. It’s violent. He leans over your back, and braces himself over you. You feel small, stupid, and hurt. A horrible swirl of things that make tears spring up at the corners of your eyes. You bury your face in the crusty pillow you’d manage to snag nearby—

And Blade tugs it away immediately. His big, calloused hand curls to hold your jaw up, so every pitiful whine and whimper you let out can’t be muffled. The bed squeaks as his thrusts slow.

“Don’t hide.”

“I-I won’t.”

“You were.”

“I won’t a-again—”

“You want this, don’t you?” Blade growls in your ears, then moves to the most fragile skin of your neck and bites.

(You do, you do— god you do. You need this.)

You nod, and Blade keeps biting. His jaw nearly locks. You’re sure that you’ll be bruised for a week.

Blade scoffs and rears back, grabs your hips in both hands for leverage. And he fucks you.

That’s all it can be, really. You can’t get a solid hold on anything. The pillow has been thrown off the bed, and you struggle to find purchase on the sheets. All you do is take it. Pleasure, or something like it, builds in your core and goes nowhere. It simmers but never crests anywhere near orgasm.

You don’t mind. This is enough.

Blade’s pace increases, never frantic. Never with him. Manic maybe, insane, tortured and damaged, but never frantic. Not with you. His rhythm falters as his cock slides in and out of you, slick beginning to stick to the inside of your thighs.

His hand comes down on his ass. The other cheek, this time. It’s enough force to bruise again. You’ll have trouble sitting for a week.

As Blade nears his peak, his rhythm stutters. His breath grows harsher and more strained. His grip goes from bruising to breaking. You gasp with the pain, but don’t tell him to stop. His cock brushes against your cervix, and never your sweet spot.

Blade flattens you to bed, prone, and puts his entire weight on top of you as his orgasm hits him. A strangled cry shatters from his lips into your ear as he fucks you too fast and too hard. A gush of warmth fills your insides, spilling to your outsides when there isn’t enough of you to hold all of him.

The bed frame slams into the wall with his final few thrusts.

You lay there, in the filth, in the pain and the dissatisfaction of the tryst, and rot.

...

Blade leaves you there, at some point.

Not right away, but eventually. He rolls off you at some point, catches his breath for a while, checks his phone, then rises to right himself.

You cannot make yourself move. The only thing you can make yourself do is take slow, measured breaths. Each ache in your body is punctuated, loud and unignorable now that the fizzling pleasure of sex has dissipated. What’s left of it is this: carnage.

“You have a ride home?” Blade asks. He must be near the door, based on the sound of his voice.

Fu Xuan’s warning words come to mind, and shame fills your belly.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

And he leaves.

You rot for a while longer.

This is not the first encounter that has gone this way. Blade fucks you like this and leaves. There’s no reverie or sweetness. There is using and being used, and the conclusion that always follows is this. Cooling, soon-to-be dry cum leaking out of you in thick droplets and a bite mark on your neck you’ll need to conceal for the next two weeks. Blade will ignore you like he doesn’t know you, next time he sees. But still fucks you like a toy.

It’s awful. It’s all you want.

You force yourself up at some point.

You’re surprised to find that your pants and panties are in a heap on the end of the bed. You are sure that they were tossed farther, but perhaps you misremember. Painstakingly, you rerobe yourself. Moving your legs in such ways hurts so bad, you could cry. You probably did cry while Blade fucked you.

The quick stop in the squalid bathroom confirms this. Mascara smudges around your eyes and down your cheeks. The sticky gloss you were wearing has been smeared away. Not even a stain of the crimson remains.

You feel hollow as you walk down the stairs, outside, toward the bonfire and its rapidly dwindling flames. A few folks still millaround, people you recognize, just barely, though no one you could call a friend remains around the pit. Stelle, March, and Dan Heng are long gone, probably. You’d feel too ashamed to look them in the eye anyway.

Someone offers you a warm beer and you take it. Your hands shake.

Hollow and wordless, you move around the backyard like a specter. Part of you wishes you were one, just something mostly formless and shapeless. Transparent. No one could see you make a fool of yourself that way. There would be no witnesses to your desperation and perversion.

You swallow back bile when it rises in your throat, and wash it down with a chug from the can.

You’re surprised to find Jing Yuan idling around the corner of the house. He looks up when you near him, and he greets you with the same genial smile he always wears. He nods to the space next him, already plucking a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket on his shirt. You take one, and he lights it for you in the next instant.

“It looks like you needed that,” he hums. He doesn't take one for himself, only tucking the carton away and out of sight.

“Maybe.” You want to vomit. Or slide down the wall of the house and rot there.

He laughs then. It’s too... warm of a sound for how you feel. For how dirty these venues are, and for the company that you have come to hold, it feels dissonant. Jing Yuan is too kind, too patient.

(He cannot be your friend because your ruin would spread to him, maybe.)

“Take as many as you like,” he urges with a hum, and settles next to you.

Silently, you ruminate. Descend into yourself. You suppose, given the events you’ve seen tonight, that you’re both stewing in something akin to yearning.

(Jing Yuan is better than you for it. He, at least, doesn’t sleep with his unrequited adored in someone else’s bed after a messy house show.)

“Do you have a way home?” asks Jing Yuan, breaking you from your slow-rolling spiral.

You shake your head. It would be rude to call Fu Xuan so late. You— you hadn’t really thought about a ride. Not yet.

Jing Yuan looks you up and down and his smile looks sadder, “How about a ride home?”

“Sure.” You nod.

The ride back home in Jing Yuan’s (too nice, too expensive, too decadent) car is quiet. An album from a band you don’t recognize plays at a low volume. Soothing, soft voices, so juxtaposed from the venue you leave behind. Maybe you just can’t recognize the words because you’re decaying. Your phone lays in your lap, over your aching thighs.

[no new messages]

(Because Blade never messages you after a fuck. You’re not worth that much to him.)

...

Gingerly, you unlock your front door and enter your little apartment. Fu Xuan lays on the couch, on her back, with her phone against her collarbone. Her mouth is parted in peaceful sleep, though her hair is still done up, all of her pins are still in.

(She waited for you, again. And you failed her, again.)

You don’t know how she puts up with you. Or why either.

Some part of you wants to vomit. Wretch, like it’ll purge the awful, disgusting thoughts warming you. They do not serve you. You should just—

(Know better. You gain nothing from entangling yourself from Blade. The sex is... enough. Because Blade doesn’t know his own strength sometimes and makes it hurt, unintentionally toeing the line between too little and too much. It’s still not worth it. It shouldn’t be worth it. You’d be better off never going to any gigs, ever again. You wouldn’t have to disappoint and embarrass yourself to your old friends then. You wouldn’t have to linger in the yearning of others while never having that affection given to you.)

You collapse atop your bed. Your makeup has been roughly scrubbed off with an old towel, and you can feel the crunchy remnants of mascara clinging around your eyes. You can’t make yourself care. Burying your face in your pillow, you burrow into your blankets. You’ll probably be sore and hungover tomorrow... today? The songbirds are just beginning to chirp their morning arias. It makes you sick to your stomach.

As you begin to doze, your phone vibrates.

[one new message]

blade: did you get home

Your mouth feels dry and your chest feels so tight you could die.

you: yeah. jing yuan drove me.

[seen: 5:11 AM]

You hold your breath as Blade begins to type. Then stops typing. Then begins again. It goes on for several volleys and you really do think you might puke.

blade: get some sleep

You drop your phone somewhere in your sheets. Giddiness fills your chest, despite the exhaustion and ache and bone-rotting fatigue. Elation causes you to smile, something wide and girlish that you have to hide in your pillow, lest it be beared to the world.

(It’s a scrap. It’s nothing. It’s worse than the bare minimum and the bar is already in hell.)

But, it’s something.

A morsel. Something to clutch onto and hold and cherish.

You want to put his words between your teeth and swallow.

#lore writes #blade x reader #ren x reader #hsr x reader #thank you to bitti for giving me so much juice to work with!!!#thank you to my early 20s and my time in the local music scene to reach about the most toxic men you can imagine <3 #ENJOY LOVES <3

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turtlesocksv2 · 1 year

Text

20 Kinnporsche Rewatch Episode 5 Thoughts

Regret Regret Regret. Kinn is so tense and upset about what he did last night, which he should be! Should have let Arm and Pete take care of Porsche, buddy. But Porsche is just dead-eyed and fucking tired. Kinn says that nothing happened and Kinn got to him first, but you know Porsche’s body is telling him a different story. How much does Porsche remember in that moment, How much does he believe Kinn in this moment? Either he’s lying, or it was Kinn that did it to him. and that’s a lot to process when you just woke up.

Kim being a nosy shit is great. and Korn sees right through him. He doesn’t trust Kim as far as he could throw him. but he learned it from watching you, dad! he learned it from watching you!!! Korn knows his grip on Kim is tenuous At Best, so it’s time to really put the squeeze on Kinn.

Genuinely am baffled at Korn’s motivations for all this. like, manipulating and abusing your kids is...you know, a bad thing but it’s one thing. but he wants Porsche working for them, under his thumb. He wants Nampheung’s son back in the fold and part of the family. How does punishing Porsche for getting drugged and making Kinn feel bad for loving Porsche accomplish any of that???

We absolutely need more Tankhun and Kim interactions. they both know way more than Kinn does. Tankhun is a messy bitch and is living for the drama of Kim spying on their dad and finding info. he’s so proud of his babiest brother. We need Tankhun and Kim to Unionize and overthrow their father. they could do it. they have the power.

Are You Fucking Dumb, Bro? my beloved. cracks me up every time. Best thing Ken ever did. ❤️

oh Porsche is MAD about getting punished. honestly his little bathroom breakdown is sooo justified. thank god for Pete, but them having two Very Different conversations is sadly funny.

Arm looks to be the Designataed Sober Bodyguard after the Stripping Incident. Disappointing, but probably a wise choice.

god Porsche is SO SAD this entire episode it kills me.

Aaaaaand here comes Vegas, smelling the blood in the water. honestly the difference between 3 minutes ago and vegas rolling up with the sick motorcycle is night and day. the life returns to Porsche’s eyes because of that bike. He and Vegas really could be bros, if it wasn’t for....everything. Porsche has so much fun with Vegas here. No thoughts, just a nice nightime bike ride on a sweet motorcycle with a handsome boy who’s been nothing but nice to you, really, and also it will piss off your boss. Win Win. (Vegas’s little stumble getting off the bike...I see you, sir. playing your game. 👀)

Kinn realizing he drove Porsche ~into Vegas’s arms~ is hilarious. Allow my inner wrestling fan to come out, for just a moment: You 👏 De- 👏Serve👏 It👏

“At least the minor family’s never hurt me!” “I’ve hurt you?” “.......Haven’t you?” god Porsche’s little eyebrow raise. The audacity Kinn has to pretend he didn’t hurt Porsche! Kinn, getting smacked in the face with the fact that Porsche does actually remember. Kinn not knowing how to respond or apologize and just digging his grave deeper. this scene is so good.

i do really like Korn’s pool. it’s a fucking rich people thing, but one that i would actually like to have.

Pete having to stand there, pantsless ass out, and give relationship counseling to his boss. what a nightmare for him. i would die. but i love his little smile after Kinn leaves, like Yeah! Nailed it! I gave Good Advice (tm)

Kinn getting absolutely roasted by Porsche’s friends and swallowing it down is so funny. And you can tell that it physically pains Kinn to apologize out loud.

Porsche is actually decent at his job! Even drunk and sad and in the middle of a verbal fight with his boss, he still clocked the intruders before Kinn did.

now i doubt that any competent kidnappers would let Kinn keep a phone on him, which means that Korn had to have GPS chipped his sons at some point like they were dogs that could get lost. probably after Tankhun’s kidnapping and recovery.

When Porsche and Kinn hear the gunshots Kinn looks so smug like yeah, the rescue team is here and you are going to die. chan is going to shoot you right in the head.

speaking of which, Daddy Chan leaning out of the van to shoot the guy cleanly that Big and Ken fumbled is so great. Finally, some good fucking marksmanship.

KinnPorsche being a Battle Couple will never get old. Handcuffed together in the back of a truck, knocking those kidnappers the fuck out. love it for them.

OK in the preview they do say the GPS is from Kinn’s phone which...was really stupid of the kidnappers. i don’t think this was a very serious kidnapping attempt. Pretty sure this was Korn shoving Kinn and Porsche into a Get-Along-Shirt.

#kprewatch2023 #kinnporsche

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theajaheira · 2 years

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im loving your energy rn, for me it came a point where i just avoid interacting with fandoms as much as possible because of these kind of stuff, somehow in every fandom i go people always have the worst takes on poc and it gets tiring so fast. with robin and kennedy my only takeaway after watching was that it sucked that they were only in s7 bc that season sucks at character development and i wanted to get to know them better, but then i come to tumblr and everyone hates them?

excuse me for thinking that spike wearing nikki's coat is not the super badass empowering moment it was framed as or that robin's hatred of spike shouldnt have been brushed off the way it was

and the episode on ats where there's a demon feeding from hatred feels super hypocritical given the treatment both shows give to poc, why are they suddenly talking about racism? same with the thanksgiving episode, why are the racist writers writing about racism?

idk i just get upset and thats why i limit the amount of fandom blogs i follow

getting around to this a little late so sorry about that :') i sort of have had the benefit of being in a corner of the fandom that's very small, and a lot of the dialogue around jenny (her and giles being the only part of the show i'm invested in teasing apart) is generally very receptive to discussing the anti-romani stereotypes that she is saturated in.

and honestly it's just .... yeah! yeah. i think one of the hardest parts for me is to see people who i enjoy and respect and have had conversations with just completely stepping back from engagement with the parts of this that aren't fun to think about. my most beloved bonus mom pointed out, like ... of course it makes sense that a lot of white people are not going to want to have these conversations in their fandom escape from frustrating shitty real life stuff, or think about how messy and intrinsic racism is, but thing is, there are people of color here too (like me! i don't talk about it much because my relationship to my jewish/indian ethnicity is So Fucking Complicated and Y'all Don't Know Me Like That, but it's very much part of what's going on w me!) who also want to have a nice little fandom oasis and end up not being able to enjoy it when there's just Racist Weird Shit On The Walls.

i've seen a couple of posts that have made me think that maybe my takes have breached containment a little, but i don't know if anyone actually heard what i was saying. this goes well beyond just going "the show was racist sometimes and we never talk about it and we should talk more about the racist parts of the show in greater detail," this is "the way we as a community talk about characters we love in fandom needs to not incorporate racism." which is something i have seen so many times here from white fans regardless of ship or character. and which is so much harder to unlearn because it is a consistent corrective process and it isn't as simple as not saying slurs on the internet.

also, yes. i hate the thanksgiving episode. i cannot stand it. i am going to have to get to it at some point and grit my teeth because whenever btvs does race it does it very very very badly.

#asks #but yes thanks!

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arthurtaylorlester · 2 years

Text

cecilos is a tragedy (but in the best way possible)

NOTE: this is mostly speculation and wild interpretation on my part. as a cecil kin, I should also say I might involuntarily favour cecil more than our beloved carlos bUT I DON'T MEAN TO I LOVE CARLOS ALRIGHT

after writing out my disorganised thoughts, i sectioned it out so it's easier to follow my wild train of thought

re-reading it, i don't think i captured well how exactly they are a tragedy, but if you catch my vibe, feel free to explain even better!

also it should be known i haven't actually listened to that much of year 2-3, but i have read transcripts for this posts. sorry i cant handle actually hearing the tragedy and angst

edit: some people misinterpreted my post, so I'll clarify. I don't think cecilos is unhealthy. quick scroll through my blog will prove that. what I mean by this post as a whole, is that they care very much about each other to the point that they aren't willing to change because they're scared. further edits in []

spoilers for the newer episodes and it devours

cecil and carlos, the og gay podcast ship

unlike the other two ogs jmart and jupeter, most listeners would say that they are the happy and loving relationship

BUT YOU'D BE WRONG

yeah sure, jupeter have their messy shit going on and jon acted like he hated martin for the better part of 160 episodes, not to mention the individual trauma those characters have

but the format of wtnv let's us think everything is all and swell, it is most definitely not. cecil overshares a lot, but cecil is also a bad, unreliable, questionable narrator. he's opinionated, kind of arrogant at times and very sure he is ALWAYS in the right.

so WHY do we think cecilos is healthy, in relation to other podcast ships?

cecil admittedly falls in love with carlos instantly, and carlos says the same (see: first line of carlos' monologue in ep.149 "The General" and the carlos mention in ep.111 ''Summer 2017, Night Vale, USA'')

also they get married, and have been together for 9 years. but marriage is NOT an indicator of a healthy relationship.

i've always thought of nightvale as reflection of cecil and his inner turmoil, and by extension a reflection of his relationship with carlos. night vale itself is a tragedy and i've linked to a post that sums my thoughts on it.

so ok great night vale is tragedy, but surely carlos and cecil have a open relationship and trust each other. WRONG AGAIN

cecil and carlos' do not trust each other, not in the sense that they think the other would hold it against them, but in the sense that they don't want to burden each other with their own problems.

they do, as night vale did in year 5, ignore all their problems. they're ignoring the existence of their metaphorical angels.

carlos has the phantom ocean, the university of what-it-is, his whole life before night vale, before cecil. cecil does learn to be private on air, but i find it strange that in 10 years he made 0, not even one, offhand comment about something that carlos said about his life outside of night vale. like about his family, or work, or interests.

and i think it's because cecil doesn't know. carlos never told him. and cecil never asked because, to him, it doesn't matter. after all ''The past is gone, and cannot harm you anymore''

that isn't to say that cecil is his own neat can of issues. he is a little bitch (affectionate) and has mommy issues, and wants to be there for everyone, and has a fear of being replaced. and he will not talk about it. like girl will talk about anything else. we know he has a habit of latching to people with very strong emotions, either negative (steve carlsberg, susan willman) or positive (carlos, janice)

in A Door Ajar (all parts) he is VERY insistent on trying to figure out what carlos' deal is, because he can't stand the fact that his husband doesn't want to tell him something to he (cecil) can make him (carlos) feel better. and they go to therapy. but therapy DOESN'T SOLVE ALL YOUR PROBLEMS IF YOU DON'T COMMUNICATE

as seen in ep. 201 ''The Delivery Man'' their relationship isn't in the best state, and how they might reconsider therapy.

of course, now in year 11 we're getting some good old Carlos angst.

carlos angst analysis woop

of course, the biggest elephant in the room is the Desert Otherworld.

carlos got trapped there for a year, yada yada he has tons of fun, almost gets cecil to move there and then changes his mind in the end giving up science for cecil. now there are a few things that never sat right with me about this.

he was completely willing to make cecil move to the DOW

we never got to know EXPLICITLY who carlos' letter was for

so for the first point, I guess I can understand since it was ten years for him and cecil agreed. but idk it was their 3 year together I wouldn't ask that. it just hit as I'm writing that for Carlos it was their 13th(ish) year nvm

point number 2 bothers me SO MUCH. it's generally implied and accepted that carlos gave the letter to kevin. but i don't think carlos wrote the letter with kevin in mind. the wording of how he feels is just specific enough to convince me it was for cecil.

''It’s a sad letter. A letter about regrets, about mistakes.

You know how sometimes you spend a lot of time with someone, and you think that the someone makes you happy, but then suddenly one day you realize…maybe you weren’t happy at all. Maybe both would be better off doing what you love in different places. Without each other. Maybe neither of you were as happy as either of you thought.'' - Carlos, ep. 70A ''Taking Off'

this is what carlos says in regard of his letter. I think sometime before this is how he felt about cecil. before his 10 years of research got destroyed. I am fully convinced that as carlos sat there waiting for it to load, he fully intended to breakup with cecil, tell hims to stay away and in night vale, while he continued his research for who knows how long in the DOW. all because he thought the science would make hi happier

and then he lost the research. I think that at this point carlos decided that yeah no fuck this. the ten years he spent in the DOW wasn't worth not having cecil. losing the science meant he'd have to do more. and that thought he didn't excite him

he thought he was happy because he had so much science to do, when in reality it just distracted him from the fact night vale felt as if he didn't belong

I think losing it made him realise that no he didn't enjoy the loneliness and that he wasn't willing to do it all again, this time without cecil.

carlos thought he was unhappy because he was with cecil, who actually he was sad because he wasn't with cecil for 10 years. you would develop detachment in ANY kind of long-distance relationship, nevermind how long.

carlos does come back and I think seeing cecil solidified his desire to NEVER go back to the DOW.

but the thing was that carlos values knowledge and science more than cecil (or he did at this point in the story). he actively didn't think he would go back, until after he lost his work

which brings us to It Devours.

admittedly, cecil and carlos are pretty okay in the book, but again I'll talk about carlos and the DOW.

carlos in this book is practically the opposite of how he was during year 3. he literally causes all the problems in the book without realising and tries to blame a church, the government and mysterious forces beyond our comprehension. I think he does this because the time in the DOW was generally terrible for him. yeah he has endless science, but I think it was mentally draining for him. not to mention the lack of support system. he had one bloody dude who tried to murder him, but now was obsessed with him who also looked exactly like his bf and his assistants. and dana (I think?)

now lets talk about ep. 210 ''Ten Years Later''

[unpopular opinion incoming]

cecil's gift was underwhelming. what the fuck even was that. I expected something a little more

grand, yk?

nevertheless, it's the thought that counts.

except no even the thought sucked. ''Oh congrats dear hubby you're finally part of the community after 10 years and also after you saved our town like 3973648748475836470809128477 times''

like WHAT

anyways carlos said it

''It is nice, I suppose, this piece of paper. The idea that I belong. But I did not need a piece of paper. I did not need to be told I belong to this town. Because this town belongs to me. It is an artificial set of boundaries around an arbitrary collection of objects and people, and I am one of those people. I help set those boundaries. I started contributing to the definition of this town the moment I set foot in it.'' - carlos, ep. 210 ''Ten Years Later''

[the gift was nice and cute, and I've now been informed that cecilos is building a house together, so that explains a little. but what I mean here was that since this is cecil we're talking about, I expected something else. I'm content with it nonetheless, it was hilarious]

but before he stated that cecil will never know about the ten years in the DOW and it made me so angry

like they love each other so much, they aren't willing to be honest with each other because they're scared it will hurt them.

when we all know damn well cecil won't be mad about the ten years, more-so of the fact carlos lied to him for 7 (or 17, depending on who you ask) years. carlos, according to me at least, loved science more than cecil until after the DOW. and then he was like lol no cecil and nightvale are more important. either way it's not a good look on carlos.

now lets talk about ✨cecil✨

I think that cecil's problems are often overlooked by everyone, except steve, who is the only genuinely nice person from night vale [/j]

as we know from ep. 110 ''Matryoshka'', cecil disliked steve because he felt as if he was being replaced from his role as primary caretaker/provider of abby and cecil, that primarily stemmed from their mother leaving them.

cecil has some sort of issue surrounding receiving and giving out help. clearly, abby resents him a little as the role of pseudo mother was thrust upon her at a young age. and cecil might be a little closed minded, but he isn't stupid. he probably realised that abby didn't like him as much, and that's why he tried so hard to help her and janice.

and therefore his resentment for steve; he felt as though he had to ''pay back'' abby and steve didn't let him

steve tells us in ep. 100 ''Toast'' that he hardly saw cecil out of the radio station afterwards.

so i think in the period between steve and abby's marriage and carlos arriving, cecil became a little bit of a workaholic and probably spiraled as he lacked purpose (other than the voice of night vale)

and then he saw carlos, and psa see my other post about why they fell in love instantly, and so he latched on to him.

carlos was a bit of an anchor for cecil in year one, and so he was fully honest with him. as we well know, carlos is very closed off. (NOT SAYING HE WASN'T ALSO HEAD OVER HEELS, WE KNOW DAMN WELL IT WAS INSTANT PINING)

and then they get together, and immediately get trauma zapped by strexcorp, and then carlos gets stuck in the DOW. so if you think about it, the first year they really spent together without imminent threat larger than station management or city council was year 4.

i also think he has some kind of trauma-induced amnesia, because something clearly happened to him and forests but i'll write another post about him because i've now realised that if i start writing about cecil, this post will become not only incomprehensible, but downright painful to read

thing i didn't know where to put

kevin and charles are the doubles of cecil and carlos. and their relationship isn't healthy AT ALL. you don't ask the person you just met to be a significant part of your son's life. though i suppose if this post of mine is accurate, then a similar thing could be going on here. perhaps they had donovan together in some other reality. but idk if the DOW/Desert Bluffs Too is affected by huntokar. (is the DOW a reality without night vale?)

predictions because this post was derailed by own mind

cecil's greatest flaw is his stubbornness i think, so i predict that this new arc this year is gonna have some sort of misunderstanding between carlos and cecil which leads to them not communicating even more and so leading up to the finale next june. i think huntokar will be involved somehow (stan huntokar is cecil's mom theory)

i don't think anything major will happen in the next 3-5 episodes.

closing thoughts???? i guess?

to sum it all up, cecil and carlos aren't tragic in the romeo and juliet sense, but more like they're own kind of tragedy

i'd like to call it the night vale tragedy. on all accounts, i don't think their story or even the show is going to end like a tragedy.

they are a tragedy in the sense that they're circumstances are ridiculous and they're pasts deeply upsetting, and it's that allowed them to be right in time for each other. they met at a perfect time, for cecil to get out of his spiral and find purpose and for carlos to escape whatever happened to him before nightvale.

but that initial perfection, made both of them think that if the other knew about they're insecurities they would leave/stop loving them/whatever other thing romantic gay people are sad about. i'd love if we got another condos type thing where they realise that they're relationship doesn't have to be perfect, paralleling cecil realising carlos is perfectly imperfect.

that's it, that's the post

that's it for this garbled mess on how fictional voices on my phone are tragic and sad and perfect for each other and also terrible for each other.

this is 2454 words long.

stay tuned next for even more words on a screen that you'll read late night, maybe huddled under your covers. maybe you'll insult some random kid. maybe you'll get insulted. maybe you'll read about your comfort white boys or maybe you'll read about people complain about them

next time, why cecil is the best and most misunderstood character of welcome to night vale

bye now

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actualbird · 3 years

Note

Oh god!

I really love the poly headcanons they are so sweet.... (or don't but that's part of it and i think the tot boys+MC deserve all the love the world has to give).

But, liking it or not, our 4 beloved boys are kinda complicated (that's what makes them perfect). Plus I never thought about how people get in poly relationships. So i was thinking, how do you think they all get into a polyrelationship together?

(I really have no idea of how that would happen)

hi, two anons!! im glad you guys liked my nxx team polycule stuff!! i'll answer these in one go, my "headcanon" (in quotes because i think this kinda turned into a character analysis/minific of sorts HAHA) being what first anon asked, How They Get Together.

heads up, wc of this is 1.9k words long so buckle up for a bit of a read jfsjdfkjbf

because first anon, youre right!!! the boys are stupendously complicated which i love so so much but canon has also shown us clearly that each of the boys' quirks and habits and tendencies causes a lot of (mostly played for laughs) friction. the bickering, the backhanded insults, the "im the best one here" preening contests. theyre all SOOOO RIDICULOUS and it is hilarious but yep! the boys r complex!! and that means this beautiful ship, imo, has a lot of phases to get to the actual romantic relationship bit.

how they get together, in my opinion, starts because of mc.

not in the sense that she matchmakes them all, but like.

phase 1 of the nxx team polycule is this:

through being in love with her (which we all know the boys 100% are), each of the boys come to terms with their own flaws and weaknesses. it's very apparent to me in all the story thus far that these boys are flawed as hell, it's very compelling but even more compelling to me is how all of them also do intense mental gymnastics to Not Confront Those Flaws. like, marius is a dickbag always teasing and toeing the line of insincerity, vyn is a controlling mf who always tries to sway situations to his benefit, artem is so repressed to the point that he has genuine trouble with emotions, luke is a self sacrificial bastard and also a huge hypocrite about how no, actually, hes the only one that should be hiding his pain and being dishonest, no dishonesty from other people!! in the beginning of the story, all the boys have their flaws and seem to have just kinda...not addressed how those flaws are harming them and the people around them.

and then mc rolls around and they all fall in love with her. and she sees those flaws and she doesnt let them slide. she challenges the boys in her own ways to see another side of the situation, to acknowledge what theyre doing. she doesnt want to get rid of flaws, thats impossible and also not cool. she just has this beautiful hope for like, all of humanity, that goodness can prevail with the right work. so when she sees her beloved nxx boys, she believes that for them as well.

which leads to phase 2 of the nxx team polycule:

the boys, more aware of themselves, become more aware of each other.

they werent Unaware of the others of course. it's just that they didnt like...truly connect on a personal level just yet. they saw the other teammembers with their emotional armor and flaws and saw a wall that wasnt worth looking past.

but after mc makes them realize that hey, flaws arent the end of the world actually, it's alright and the person behind them may just be worth it, the boys like. end up understanding the others. A LOT OF THIS BIT IS UNINTENTIONAL, ON THEIR PARTS KJDSBFS. like they stumble into understanding each other by accident, they didnt plan it, but over the course of nxx investigations, it's inevitable that they end up seeing the depths of the others. i delve into this a little bit in my fanfic "filler eps of the lost gold" where the boys are just going thru their actions and then trip over another boy's fears or desires and through that, gain a deeper understanding mutually.

and with understanding, sometimes, comes trust.

phase 3 of the nxx team polycule goes like this:

everybody in this team, whether they like it or not, whether they know it or not, has a heart that wants to give love so desperately.

marius lives in a world full of snakes so he cant have his heart on his sleeve for his own protection. vyn wants to be seen as perfect and the heart is inherently messy so he holds it back. artem for a very very long time was focused on work and success and achievement that he neglected his heart. and luke has been giving love all his life in a sense but in a way thats hidden.

all these tendencies that are brought upon their life circumstances results in this: they want to love honestly but they havent been able to do this

until mc. and all of them want to push back whatever fears or patterns their life has instilled in them because they see her and see somebody so unwaveringly good that all their hearts begin giving love to her to make her happy and to make themselves happy as well.

but heres the thing. the boys dont just see mc. by this point, they have connected and understood and come to trust each other as well, and the consequence of that is that They Can See Each Other Now Too, Truly.

and heres the thing. all of the boys are unwaveringly good as well.

one by one, each of the boys realize that what they feel for the other boys in the team starts to...change. yeah theyre all friends, they pick on each other a lot of the time, but the bedrock of the relationship is solid and strong now. but when marius is with luke, marius sees a light inside of luke so bright that he seems unaware that he gives off. when artem is with vyn, artem sees a goodness inside of vyn that hesitates to make itself obvious and known because vyn is scared of getting hurt thanks to it. all of them see the other and their goodness and, unbidden, their hearts want to give love to each other as well.

and because theyre all a bit stupid in their own way theyre like, huh, weird! wonder why this feeling is so familiar! and yet i cant seem to name it...and then they all independently compare these feeling with the feelings they have for mc, a feeling they do know the name of, and theyre like.

WAIT.

THESE FEELINGS ARE...VERY BASICALLY EXACTLY WHAT I FEEL FOR MC.

which only means one thing: theyve fallen in love with everybody else

marius: //goes to his studio to Think and sees that a bunch of his recent art actually had little crumbs of these feelings already, etched into the brushstrokes and scenes. has an emotional crisis about it

vyn: //records a 1 hour long entry in his audio diary to examine and gain control of his feelings but by the end of the hour all he knows is that he wants to hold these people and be held by them

artem: //quite literally just bluescreens, artem.exe has stopped working, sits at his study and slowly, slowly, thunks his head down onto his desk, valiantly trying to ignore the fast pulse of his heart

luke: //manically vents about it to peanut who, by virtue of being a bird, doesnt get it. just keeps talking at peanut to get a grasp of it all and then lies down on the floor, overwhelmed

mc, sitting in her apartment watching some netflix: ...why do i inexplicably feel as if something very, very important has just happened?

phase 4 of the nxx team polycule is basically:

pining: extreme difficulty level

because pining is already hard when ur pining for one person. what more for an additional 3 more people. and those additional 3 more people are pining back.

and all these boys are SOOOO OBVIOUS with their romantic feelings, in their own special way. the way they show their affection to mc starts to bleed into their interactions with the others and everybody can CLEARLY SEE WHAT IS GOING ON, LOL, but also all the boys are too chickenshit to confront it, because if they confront it, what will even happen??? being in love with each other, all of them, thats going to be such a complicated fucking relationship, holy shit. it's 2030, yeah, being a polyamorous group relationship isnt completely unheard of, but sue them, theyre scared.

but mc (who i forgot to mention already knows of the boys' romantic feelings for her, shes just hasnt made a move yet on any of them because SHES IN LOVE WITH ALL OF THEM AS WELL and shes been trying to figure out how the hell to make that work, she cant bear to choose just one of them, she'd be heartbroken over leaving the rest of them behind) sees that the nxx investigation team is now all pining for each other FULLY and she kinda wants to laugh when she realizes whats going on because like, what are the chances? that this would happen? that they all found each other and their feelings fell into just the right place for nobody to be left behind?

theyre all scared, she can tell. and she is as well, she wont lie.

but shes always had a belief that goodness can prevail with the right work.

and love is one of the greatest goods out there.

phase 5 of the nxx team polycule:

It's Time For Communication, Baby!!!!!

the exact scenes of how this happens is a bit vague to me. it could go two ways: mc going to each of the boys independently to talk about feelings, hers about everybodys and his about everybodys as well. OR they have a fucking meeting about it all together and artem literally schedules it in his google calendar, or something.

either way, they like, actually talk about this. starts casual, maybe over a chill date, maybe over dinner at a nice restaurant, maybe over a walk in the park as the sun is starting to set. but where ever it happens, the end result is the same: a heart is laid out bare and it is taken in gentle, grateful hands.

marius: OKAY, NOW THAT THE FEELINGS ARE OUT OF THE WAY, CAN I PLEASE KISS ONE OR ALL OF YOU, PLEASE, IVE BEEN WANTING TO KISS U GUYS FOR FOREVER

vyn, laughing fondly: has anybody ever told you patience is a virtue? we quite literally just talked it all out.

marius: //needy whining noises

artem, embarrassed: ive...never kissed anybody before

luke, embarrassed but trying to play it Cool: ....same here

mc: kissing is great, you two will love it!

marius: awesome, awesome, so is ANYBODY going to give me a go ahead or WHAT????

phase 6 of the nxx team polycule:

i dont want to say it's happily ever after, once they all get together. thats not really realistic.

they all have their quirks and tendencies and habits. and those will inevitable clash against each other. theyll have their arguments, theyll get upset, theyll sulk and be angry, sometimes. but also...

theyll see each other smile and feel like their love shining so brightly. theyll reach out for another's hand and be held in such a way that makes them think that their heart is in a safe place. theyll love each other and theyll put in the work to continue loving each other. because goodness will prevail.

and they all see each other as the most good people in the world.

so whatever happens, theyll get through it together.

#tears of themis #vyn richter #marius von hagen #tears of themis rosa #artem wing

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magnus-the-maqnificent · 3 years

Text

Let's Analyze - Alec in CoFA

So, I’ve been seeing plenty of discourse on two of my mutual’s blogs about this topic… so I thought I’d sit down and write another analysis post about my beloved Alec Lightwood cause people are still giving him shit for a book that came out ten years ago 🤦‍♀️

This is gonna be in two parts, and I'm putting both under the cut:

PART 1 - ALEC’S INSECURITIES

So, the first part - how Alec’s insecurities drove him to saying stupid things in CoFA

A quick disclaimer - I’m NOT blaming Alec alone for his and Magnus’s break up. What happened was pretty complicated, and the blame cannot be put on one person alone.

That said, let’s start with Magnus and Alec’s early ‘official’ relationship, in trsom.

These scenes are taken from only the first part of the book, but I’m pretty sure they’re more than enough to get a sense of Alec’s insecurities and all the chinks in their relationship. Throughout the entirety of trsom, we see more bits and pieces of Alec’s insecurities about Magnus’s sexuality, and his past and all the people he might have known - and that’s okay! Insecurities happen, cause brains are stupid like that.

But all of Alec’s insecurities could’ve been laid to rest with a simple conversation. But the conversation never happens. Magnus tends to deflect and change the topic every single time his past is brought up. I understand Magnus’s reasons for hiding his past, of course, but it doesn’t help his relationship with Alec. Magnus hiding a good chunk of his past will inevitably lead to Alec questioning himself - why is he so secretive? Why is he not telling me anything? Does he not trust me? ...and so on.

And when Alec is already feeling insecure in this relationship, this happens - (sorry about the terrible cropping btw)

And then later, while Magnus is talking to Camille,

Now… when people are insecure about something, they get irked at the smallest of things. I’m saying this as an insecure person myself. So now, you've got Alec, who's insecure as fuck, and his vacation with the person he loves got cut short by his ex who refuses to talk to anyone but him, and when they get there, his lover and his lover's ex seem to have obvious chemistry, he gets hit with the reality that his lover has dated several, probably even hundreds of people before him; and he has to leave them alone in a room so they can talk, and then he hears the ex basically just list all his shortcomings - i.e, his mortality, his appearance is compared to some random dead guy (sorry, Will) whom your lover had a crush on, which is just weird, and when you've had enough and open the door, it's to see your lover and his ex, standing close as fuck, and he's! touching! her! face! and! looking! into! her! eyes!

*takes a sip of water* yeahhhh... Alec was straight up having a bad day.

And at this point, a) Alec is still in his first relationship. He didn't get to navigate romance when he was younger, and while there's nothing wrong with that, there weren't exactly cutesy presentations titled 'how to keep your relationships healthy' floating around the internet. Heck, he didn’t know the internet. He didn't know that he had to communicate with Magnus, and it doesn't help that boy avoids conversations about feelings like the plague. And b) at this point, Alec would be facing several negative emotions - insecurity, obviously. Hurt. Helplessness, because of his mortality. Fear, that he might not live up to Magnus’s past lovers. Jealousy at seeing Magnus and Camille so close.

Negative emotions like these often tend to show up as anger or sorrow... and in Alec’s case, that would be anger. Which leads us to THIS- (🙈)

*sighs in second-hand embarrassment*

*drinks more water*

*this is gonna be so hard aksjakak*

So. Alec dealt with his insecurities... by being a mean, mean bitch to Magnus :/

Let's break this scene down, slowly, bit by bit.

First, Alec cuts into a conversation between Magnus and Jordan, when Magnus mentions Woolsey Scott, followed the rest of that particular page. To Alec, he's just a figure from Magnus’s past, and a possible lover, though in Alec’s defense Woolsey Scott WAS Magnus’s lover. This is the first instance that we see in which Alec lashes out at Magnus. It seems like he's trying to make a point to Magnus - "I don't know anything about your past, and so I don't know who you've had romances with, but I want to know." Except he makes his point in the worst way possible and ends up slutshaming Magnus.

The "What's true?" line, in response to Jordan saying "so it's true what they say about warlocks, then?" is pretty obvious. Alec is clearly not liking the idea that this random werewolf might know about warlocks, and in particular, his Warlock boyfriend.

Next... ooh boy... Alec basically snaps and in the next few paragraphs accuses Magnus of wanting to flirt with others which... is not a good look on ya honey 😕. These lines are the ones that get him accused of being biphobic... but is he really? I'm gonna talk about that in part 2.

So, in the first paragraph, where Alec makes the comments about Jordan, I find his choice of words pretty... interesting, seeing as 'messy-haired', 'broad-shouldered' and 'chiseled-good-looks' are all used to describe Alec in the series. Not sure if its relevant, but definitely interesting.

And in the next one, where Alec says, "or there are plenty of pretty girls here, since apparently your taste goes both ways. Is there anything you aren't into?" The 'apparently' makes me curious. In rsom, Alec mentions that he's only recently heard of the term bisexual, and there's plenty of time between rsom and cofa, so Alec should be absolutely sure of atleast the basic meaning of bisexuality. But I'm pretty sure it's just inconsistency on cc's part, since if rsom didn't exist, this book would be the first time Alec learns about Magnus’s bisexuality. (Which is obvious when you look at the scene after Magnus reveals that Camille is his girlfriend.) And as for the second sentence, I feel like it's a fallback to earlier in the book when Magnus says (I'm just gonna write the dialogue from memory), "I've dated men, women, warlocks, faeries, vampires, werewolves and even a djinn or two." Here, Alec is angry, and he takes the knowledge that Magnus has dated a variety of people and once again, lashes out.

Looking at all of it together, Alec’s insecurities are definitely a factor in all of this. We know Alec has pretty low self esteem in tmi, and he keeps having irrational thoughts about someone else grabbing Magnus’s attention, like in the trsom scene I've posted above. And he ends up taking out his insecurities on Magnus.

Was it wrong of Alec to say all those things to Magnus? Yes, absolutely. But looking back through all his scenes in cofa, it's easy to see how he could've fallen into the pit trap of emotions.

And before anyone says "but it wasn't addressed in the later books", it was, in CoLS. I’ve hit the image limit, so I'm just gonna type it out -

"[Magnus] said it would be better if he didn’t come. Apparently him and the Seelie Queen have some kind of history."

Isabelle raised her eyebrows.

"Not that kind of history," Alec said irritably. "Some kind of feud. Though," he added, half under his breath, "the way he got around before me, I wouldn't be surprised."

"Alec!" Isabelle dropped back to talk to her brother....

So, there. Alec makes yet another slutshaming comment, Isabelle overhears and is clearly not happy about it, and it's clearly implied that she talks to Alec about it. And Alec doesn't make any more slutshaming comments since then. Boy now knows what he did was wrong, and makes sure not to repeat it again.

Although, I do wish we had more than this. I wish we had more of Magnus and Alec talking about this argument, heck, even about all their arguments and the reasons they broke up, but you can't get everything you want, apparently :(

And now onto the next part...

PART 2 - IS ALEC BIPHOBIC?

The short answer, uh, no, not really.

The long answer.... would be complicated.

So, back in the day, when this discourse was at an all time high, I remember reading a bisexual person's essay about this topic, and they said that this comment from Alec - "or there are plenty of pretty girls here, since apparently your taste goes both ways. Is there anything you aren't into?" - would be a biphobic microagression.

According to Google, a microagression is "a statement, action, or incident regarded as an instance of indirect, subtle, or unintentional discrimination against members of a marginalized group such as a racial or ethnic minority".

And in Alec's case, IF his words were biphobic, they were completely unintentional. They were microagressive. Which is... still bad, of course, but it's more complicated than that.

If you look back on Alec's supposedly biphobic statements, they're more about Magnus’s hypersexuality and promiscuity than anything else. Yes, even the line i mentioned like two paragraphs ago. At first glance it may seem like a direct attack on Magnus’s sexuality, but think over the explanation I gave for the line and it will make sense. And a lot of people know that the whole 'bi people fuck around a lot and are cheaters' thing is a stereotype.

Now, it may seem like I'm going off topic here, but bear with me. I couple of days ago, I watched this video by chance. (Tw for the aids crisis and lots of biphobia, not from the narrator, if you wanna watch the video). Basically, back in the 1980s, bisexual men were scapegoated for spreading aids to the straight community and were vilified by popular media as being promiscuous scepters who would cheat on their wives with gay men and then give aids to their wives. (Yikes 😬). And since bisexuality was practically unheard of before all this (several bisexual activists have stated that all this shit, though unfortunate, pulled bisexuality out of the closet), it's safe to assume that this is how those stereotypes came to be - through 1980s propaganda.

But living with this propaganda is... a very limiting experience. The people who leaned and unlearned and fought against this propaganda are mostly US Americans who grew up with it, either the actual propaganda itself or passed down by their parents. But like I said, it's a very limiting experience. US is but one country out of many, and even for those living in the USA there's a chance that they grew up in a very hush-hush environment. People who grew up hearing all these stereotypes will see it as biphobia, while people who didn't - like Alec, and me, and several other people will not. A lot of people grow up with absolutely no knowledge of the queer community, and chances are that they'll be incredibly confused when a stereotype is pointed out to them, and they often get no more explanation than 'this is a harmful stereotype'. Queer experiences aren't the same for everyone, and while I respect the people who see this as biphobia, they should recognize that there are many people who won't see it that way.

I have seen bisexual people say that Alec's words were biphobic, and I've also seen bisexual people say that they weren't. Thus, there is no clear consensus about whether or not Alec was being biphobic. And like I said earlier, Alec grew up far, far away from mundane anti-queer bigotry. He was essentially a clean slate when it came to knowledge of eer microagressions of any kind, because microagressions and stereotypes are often incredibly specific, don't have anything to do with a person's race/sexuality/gender, etc. and will make zero sense unless you know the history behind them. To Magnus, who lived through the anti-bisexual scapegoating, the words would've definitely stung, but Alec didn't even know the implications he would be making with this words! Of course, the impact is greater than intention, and I imagine Magnus would sit Alec down one day and talk about all this history with him.

And idk if I can even blame cc cause the history of bisexual men is RARELY ever talked about, atleast on the internet.

Also, this scene in cofa is the only instance where he can be interpreted to be biphobic. Nowhere else in all of tmi, and even tec, do we see Alec express hatred or disgust or microagression towards bisexual people. If this was seen in a repeating pattern from Alec, one could argue that he's biphobic... but he isn't. Some might point to some of his internal thoughts in trsom to argue otherwise, but I believe that actions are superior than thoughts.

There's also the thing about unlearning prejudices, but in Alec's case there was hardly anything to be unlearned. The only prejudices he did pick up on were against himself, through vague homophobic comments from Robert.

P.S if you've read this far, I am legally entitled to compensation for thinking of cofa Alec for 48 hours. Put your favorite Alec moments in my askbox cause I wanna focus on his good side now. 😎

But yeah, the main thing here is that Alec has grown from his mistakes, apologized, and hasn't repeated this behavior at all.

And lastly, I just wanted to add - I don't think all this was unintentional on the author's part. She's grown up with the us American queer community, and has mentioned that she has bisexual friends, who have no doubt faced prejudices because of these stereotypes. I think she was trying to condemn making such statements, but a lot of people don't read between the lines and end up misinterpreting it and make both the character and her to be biphobic.

So... TLDR; was what Alec said biphobic? Maybe. It depends on who you're talking to. Is Alec, as a person, biphobic? Nope. Not at all. 😌

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mega-ringsandthings-world · 3 years

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I’m rewatching all my fave? english-centered period dramas in preparation for new one coming out, twq, twp, tsp, the tudors, and I know we all love the tudor family here, but good lord was twp such a mess that I ended up actively hating every Tudor character in it. (which was kinda the point, imao) The twp show was based off phillipa gregory's books (that are even worse than the show) and they both shredded the characterizations of everyone in them to the point that they might as well be OCs based on historical figures. Literally the only reason I was able to make it through was because of the actors. jodie and jcls acting carried it at the best of times, and JCL is hot, so... and I’m so glad they got michelle fairley and essie davis as EW and MB, or else it would of been unwatchable. I couldn’t really root for either lizzie or henry, because their characterizations and personalities were so inconstant and varied wildly from ep to ep, its like I was watching different people in each ep. nd that’s a big part of why I favored the York plotlines/characters more, at least most of them (except lizzie) stayed constant in their characterizations/motives (even if all they were consistent with was revenge against the tudors) And rooting for the tudors in general was hard too, since the show was bending backwards to make them all assholes. (JT gets a pass tho, he was just trying to raise his kid right) No one was really likable, you get a good moment with someone and then the next moment they’re doing something batshit, e.i, henry’s good for a while and then starts being a dick, (wtf was up with imply he slept with cathy gordon and him being such a bitch to lizzie out of the blue?) or you’re starting to sympathize with Margret Beaufort and then she kills another kid, which like, the decision to have her kill the two princes was a choice, and I won’t hesitate to say I enjoyed the drama it brought. Along those lines, the show is marginally enjoyable if you divorce it from the history its trying to retell and treat it as a game-of-thrones-bodice-ripper-drama, which was the intent of the author in the frst place, but whatever. That some of the best acting on the show came plots/situation that weren’t even real irl is wild, and that says a lot. henry’s talk with lizzie about her loving him, but not like she did w/rIII, and his depression-breakdown (never happened), over his mother being a murderer and the whole thing with Richard Jr./percy warbeck was just juicy, later moments with lizzie and the bit when she talks to richard jr./pw in the tower and his laugh reminds her so much of her father? and then the execution scene? good shit. A fave bit was henry sitting all despondent in his room remembering the killing of richardIII, and yes they did actually have richardIII buried alive in this show, jfc. It goes again to the bad characterization that ep 1 lizzie would have strangled him outright if she’d found that out, but lizzie in this ep would have been meh. Speaking of which, the short-lived friendship between richard jr./pw and teddy was extremely sweet, which made their executions all that more horrific. within the narrative of the show, R jr./pw seemed like he would have actually made an excellent king, he never seemed anything but kind and honorable, although adamant about his claim, and lizzie’s fear he would kill her children, which was not unfounded of course, was also made mostly her entire basis for having him killed in the show, even though he was never presented as someone who would do that? make it make sense, or at least hint he would want to harm the kids after taking the throne, instead of showing him as incredibly nice. And in this show, with richard jr./pw being the actual richard, and mb having tried to kill him as a boy and framing richardIII for it, he’s more than justified in wanting the throne and justice. except that never happened irl, and the show has me rooting for a pretender instead of the certified monarchs, which are SUPPOSED TO BE THE “HEROES” OF THIS SHOW. and like, claimants to the throne are usually entitled fucks by nature, I don’t know why everyone hates richardjr./pw for being entitled, when every person who ever laid claim to a throne ever does so on the belief of entitlement to that throne? And tell me how there was more chemistry between lizzie and faceless richard III in a four-second flashback than she and henry had in most scenes? I’m not saying that lizzie and henry didn’t have chemistry in the show, because they did, (at least the actors did) but once again, their inconsistent characterization marred a lot of scenes that would otherwise be amazing. Then the whole thing where henry r*ped her nd it was shown to be directly caused by her mentioning her relationship with richardIII? Messy, messy messy. after that, it was hard to “feel” lot of her and henry’s scenes even in better contexts. I ship lizzie/richardIII out of spite for that nasty-ass scene alone, because I can’t sit there and watch lizzie falling for her rapist. and then lizzie is vilified for her relationship with richardIII, yet the show implies that Margaret B is in love with her own brother, has lizze taunt her over it, and then present JT marrying/ MB her arranging his marriage as a tragedy for MB? Sir? Ma’am? Jasper Tudor straight up implying that his sister should get a fucking annulment so they can be together, and MB actually considering it gets a pass? more like margaret lannister. Then they bring up richarchIII as a gotcha to lizzie every other ep? someone inform henry that his beloved mother wants to fuck her brother, his beloved uncle and see if he keeps throwing rIII in lizzie’s face every five minutes. EYE. god, this show is bad, bad. Don’t get me started on the burgundy plot. if you’re going to have the duchess start a war on a whim, at least imply she was possessed to do so by EW’s magic, or have the balls to make her stepdughter’s death actually the fault of the tudors. And poor fucking maggie. it was hard for her irl, but it’s intolerable for her within the show. Sorry, this got long, I’m ranting at this point because holy hell ITS BAD. If you take it as a show that’s supposed to be about real life historical figures it’s a trash fire, but you really should just watch it as a story like bridgerton. makes it more tolerable. You know you’ve lost it when a show that’s supposed to be about the unification of two great houses and the love story (not that it was reallly that great of a love story irl either, but that’s for another day) between the scions of those houses gives me hives and makes me wish the burgundy plot succeeded.

#the white princess #twp #the white queen #twq #the spanish princess #tsp #elizabeth of york #eoy #henry vii #henry tudor #margaret beaufort #jasper tudor #the war of the roses #the yorks #the tudors #tudor history

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isolemnlyswearpevensie · 4 years

Text

Paper Cut Part 3 | Edmund Pevensie x Reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: Nothing but fluff! Seriously, it’ll rot your teeth.

Time/Era: Modern AU but the Pevensies have still been to Narnia

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Exactly a year after meeting his beloved Y/N, Edmund introduced her to his family.

Request: Can you please do a part three to paper cut... maybe where she gets to go to narnia? Or meet the rest of the pevensies? I loved that piece so much!

A/N: The long-awaited part 3 to paper cut!!!! Ahhh I love this AU so much, you have no idea! I’ve really been looking forward to writing this! Enjoy ~

Part 1 | Part 2 | masterlist | read on ao3

“Darling, when can I meet them?” Y/N said, laying on her stomach. She was on Edmund’s bed with her laptop sat afront of her. Edmund sat at his desk doing his own homework, his back towards Y/N.

“Meet who?” He turned around in his chair. He smiled looking at his girl lounging on his bed. “And don’t you have homework to be doing?”

“Peter, Susan, and Lucy!!” She rolled onto her back and stretched her limbs. “And it’s boring, so I decided to procrastinate it until the last possible second, thank you very much.”

Edmund’s smile grew fonder, and he stood up to join her on the bed. This year, he decided to move out of the university’s dorms and finally get his own apartment. It was small, but it beat living with a roommate he didn’t like.

“Move over, let me sit on my own bed,” He pushed her side and she rolled like a log.

“Hey!” Y/N giggled. “This is my real estate! Get your own!”

Y/N turned to face the now laying Edmund; their noses were less than an inch apart and he had a shit-eating grin on his face. It was the type of Edmund grin that only showed when he was genuinely happy. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle and his teeth show.

“You are so beautiful,” Y/N said before she could stop herself. Edmund’s face twisted into a happy confusion.

“Aren’t I the one who is supposed to tell you that?”

“Boys can be beautiful too, you’re living proof.” Y/N reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. His skin was soft under her touch, and she observed as it turned a rosy shade of pink. “I am so lucky you’re my soulmate. I got so fucking lucky.”

Edmund pressed a fleeting kiss to the tip of her nose. “I’m the lucky one, Y/N.”

Y/N loved to see this side of Edmund; she was the only one who got to see it. He was usually rather ridged and introverted, a generally inward type of guy. So much so that at the beginning of their relationship, they discussed how PDA wasn’t really his thing. Outside of quick kisses or holding hands, the thought of being all over each other in public made him uncomfortable. Y/N respected his wishes, it wasn’t really her thing either. When they were alone, however, Edmund couldn’t keep his hands off of his love.

He loved to study with her in the room. Knowing that his girl was close by gave him a sense of comfort when he was focused. And since they both had very hard majors, Y/N would most likely bring her own work. They never got very far into their work, though; favoring talking, kissing, cuddling, or sex to book work.

“You never answered my question, Pevensie.” Y/N placed a quick kiss on his lips and sat up. She held her weight up with her arm while her legs folded to the side.

“And what question is that?” Edmund’s eyes held a dazed look as he stared up at Y/N with his happy-Ed-smile and rolled onto his back.

“It’s been a year and I haven’t met your siblings! You met mine! Hell, you’ve stayed at my parent’s house for New Year’s. Are you ashamed of me or something?” Y/N’s words sent an alarmed jolt through Edmund’s entire body.

“Of course I’m not ashamed of you, my love! I just know how they tease me when you’re not around, so I know it’ll be a hundred times worse when they actually meet you.” He took a breath as Y/N giggled happily. His absolute favorite sound in the world was her giggle. “So it’s definitely not you.”

“What, you don’t want them to tell me embarrassing stories about you?”

“I’d like to avoid that, yes.” Ed leans back on his elbows.

“You have homework to do, Mister.”

“I’d much rather do this than finish an 18 plage thesis,” His voice was cheeky.

“Do wha-” Y/N was cut off by Edmund pulling her onto him. She situated her body so she was straddling his hips comfortably. “You’d rather have me straddle you than do your homework?”

His hands pushed the fabric of her shirt up so a sliver of skin showed. He ran his fingertips along it, watching goosebumps rise on her sides.

“Have a hot girl on top of me or write a thesis? Hmm...difficult choice.” His eyes stayed glued to her stomach. Y/N couldn’t help but enjoy the view herself; his hair against the pillow, the slight scrunch of his eyebrows, his lips parted slightly...

“Perv!” She responded, swatting his hand from her stomach scar.

They had a multitude of conversations about that scar during the past year; their scars seemed to be an easy talking point whenever they ran out of things to say. Like just last week, they had an hour-long discussion about a scar the cut through the pair’s eyebrow. Edmund was always very patient when explaining how the marks came to be, even if the memories weren’t always the most pleasant to relive.

He shifted so his back rested against the headboard and his face was just barely lower than hers. Edmund tilted his head up to look into her eyes. “I’m a perv for wanting to spend time with my girl?”

“I have to be on your lap to spend time with you?”

“Are you complaining?”

“No, not necessarily.”

Edmund laughs under his breath before attaching his lips to Y/N’s. They always say kissing your soulmate is like a drug, that the taste of their lips and the feeling of them pressed against you was addictive. Y/N never really understood until she was able to kiss her soulmate whenever she pleased. Even small things, such as the smell of his neck or the concentrated look on his face while he was working, made her fall even harder for the boy.

Her best friend had been surprised when she met Edmund. Apparently, he was nothing like what she expected Y/N’s soulmate to be like. She expected him to be loud and extroverted, someone who would balance Y/N’s reserved nature. But when she met Edmund, he was quiet, polite and just a hint sarcastic. She later revealed that she thought Y/N and Edmund would be one of the few soulmate matches that wouldn’t work out. Y/N was no longer friends with this person.

The very happy couple’s makeout session was cut short by a knock on the front door. Edmund pulled back and kissed her cheek. “It’s probably the neighbor asking for eggs again, I’ll be right back. Wait here.” He helped guide her off his hips and slid off the bed.

Neither Y/N nor Edmund were exactly dressed to impress; they had agreed to catch up on their work and hang out before the term ended and they went on break. Edmund wore an old Rolling Stones t-shirt he stole from Peter when he was a teenager and a pair of gray sweatpants that laid a bit too low on his hips. Y/N wore a similar attire, including one of Edmund’s shirts, a pair of running shorts, reading glasses, and a messy bun.

“Edmund!” Lucy’s voice filled Edmund’s ears as he opened the door. In the hallway stood all four of his siblings with big smiles filling their faces.

“Lucy, Susan, Peter! Uh, what are you guys doing here?”

“We wanted to see your new place!” Susan follows Lucy as she pushes past Edmund and into the apartment. Peter is quick to follow, shutting the door behind him.

“Is that my shirt?” He asks. Edmund tweaks the corner of his mouth awkwardly and trails the girls into his home.

“It’s so much roomier than you said on the phone,” Susan exclaims, walking into the living room. Edmund doesn’t say anything and follows his siblings around awkwardly.

“Is this your room?” Lucy opens the door and notices Y/N sitting on the bed. She had resumed the work on her laptop and was sitting where Ed had once been, against the headboard.

“Oh, hello, I didn’t know Ed had company,” She said, taking in Y/N’s appearance. Her eyes gloss over her form and land on the scar on her eyebrow. “Oh my gosh, you’re Y/N aren’t you?!”

Y/N, who was taken aback by the sudden acknowledgment, just nodded. Lucy began to swarm her with questions and saying how nice it was to meet her. Y/N, on the other hand, looked like a deer caught in the headlights until Edmund came into the room.

“Lu!” He scolded, sending an apologetic smile towards Y/N. “You can’t just jump her!” He extends a hand towards Y/N and pulls her to her feet. Once she’s standing, the hand makes its way around her waist. By this time, Susan and Peter made their way into the room to see what the all commotion was about.

“Y/N, this is Susan. Lucy and Peter. Guys, this is my soulmate, Y/N.”

“Hullo,” Y/N said shyly. “Sorry I look like shit, wasn’t really expect to see anyone but Ed today.”

“Oh stop, you look gorgeous as always,” Edmund replied without thinking. Y/N’s face turned a bright red color. The rest of the Pevensies awed.

“Wow, I never thought I’d live to see the day where Ed is actually nice,” Peter comments, crossing his arms and leaning back on his heels.

Y/N felt small under the stares of the Pevensie siblings and judging my Edmund’s body language, he was as well.

“Well, we better be off...We just came in to say hi.” Peter could sense the awkwardness in the room.

“We just got here!” Lucy frowned. She looked about 19, but it was evident she was the most friendly and excited of the group. Susan seemed to be more like Edmund, while Peter fell somewhere in between Susan and Edmund.

“Peter’s right, Lou. It looks like Y/N and Ed have someone homework to do.” She gestured at the laptops and textbooks. “Y/N, Lucy and I are having a girls day later this week, you should come. We’d love to get to know you a bit better.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” Y/N felt Edmund’s grip on her hip loosen. “I’d love to, thanks for inviting me.”

After they left, both lovers let go of a breath they didn’t know they were holding.

“Oh no, they hate me!” Y/N grew sad. That was nothing like what she imagined meeting his family would be like.

“Nah, they love you already. It was just awkward because they caught us off guard.” Edmund sat on his computer chair and pulled Y/N so she was sat horizontally on his lap.

“I look a mess, I acted a mess! This is awful!”

“Baby, you did great.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “They love you, and I love you. It’s okay. You’ll remeet them soon, and it’ll go smoother. I promise.”

“Why were they here in the first place?”

“To see the apartment, I guess. They like to drop in sometimes.”

Y/N kissed his lips and got off of his lap. “Well, they were quite nice. Lucy is very friendly.”

Edmund chuckled under his breath, “Sorry about her. She gets like that when she’s excited. She’s been dying to meet you.”

“She has?”

“Of course, she asks every time I talk to her. And hey, I guess this answered your question from earlier!”

“Wow, I hope lived up to her expectations.” Y/N responded, picking up her laptop and closing it.

“You worry too much, darling.”

“I suppose I do.” Y/N placed the laptop on Edmund’s desk.

He sighed and turned to his own computer. “I guess I have to write this thesis now.”

“Nerd,”

“Hey! I’m not a nerd! You’re a nerd!”

“Well, this nerd loves you, nerd!” Y/N resumed her place on the bed without a care in the world.

“I love you too, nerd! Now do your work, I’m not the only one who has to study!” A small second of silence fell over the room.

“Make me.”

Edmund paused and slowly turned around in his chair. His eyes had a mischievous glint to them and his mouth was formed a smirk. “Oh, don’t mind if I do.”

#edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund x reader #edmund pevensie fanfic #edmund pevensie fanfiction #king edmund the just #soulmate au #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #the chronicles of narnia fanfic #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #c.s. lewis #c. s. lewis #edmund #narnia fanfic

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xoxobuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

The Last Ride

January 14, 2013. Jake Peralta and Amy Santiago make a bet, hoping to prove once and for all who is the best detective of the 99th Precinct. Jake bets his car, because losing the “chick magnet’ (as Charles insists it is), would be the worst thing in the world for Jake. For Amy? The worst thing in the world would be being one of those chicks in Jake’s car.

But, when Amy wins the bet, one year later, she still finds herself as one of those chicks in Jake’s car. Is it really the worst thing in the world?

Written for @stolethekey for #b99summer2021ficexchange

You can also read it on AO3

Chapter One: The Win

Amy ran into the precinct, grabbing a perp by the back of his shirt, her breathing heavy. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” she announced. “I present Carl Laudson, who stole $3,000.” She looked down at her watch to confirm the time before triumphantly continuing. “Santiago takes the lead with one minute left. Suck it, Peralta.”

Exactly one year ago, Jake and Amy made a bet to see who could get the most felony arrests, thus proving once and for all who was the better detective. Jake bet his car, his most cherished possession in the world. Charles insisted that losing such a total “chick magnet” would be the worst thing in the world for Jake. Thus, since being “one of those chicks in Jake’s car” would be the worst thing in the world for Amy, if Jake won, she would have to go on the worst date in the world with him. There was no way she was going to lose. Unfortunately, Jake had the same intensity about winning.

All year long, they had been going back and forth. As of this morning, they were tied. Both got to work, doing everything possible to take the lead. Amy couldn’t believe that she was about to win.

“Oh no,” Jake responded, panicked.

“That’s right ‘oh no.’”

Jake started grabbing folders from his desk, urgently flipping through them, hoping to find something, anything. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Not going to happen. Time to admit defeat in 10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1! Your car is mine. Hand over the keys,” Amy victoriously demanded.

“This can’t be happening,” Jake moaned, reluctantly handing over his keys to Amy. Just as she was about to take the keys from him, he snatched his hand back. “Please, can I just have one last night with my car? I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye to her.”

Amy furrowed her brows. “I don’t know if I trust you…”

Jake placed both hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look right at him. “I promise, I’ll give you the car. You won the bet, fair and square, and I’m not one to be a sore loser.” (Amy raised her eyebrows in disbelief at that). “I just want one last night so I can really say goodbye.”

Amy looked at Jake intensely. He looked so sincere, a trait that was not common for Jake. Although she didn’t know what it was about that hunk of junk that Jake loved so much, she did know that he needed one last night of memories. She shrugged his hands off her shoulders. “Fine, but I’m coming with you.”

A wide grin spread across Jake’s face. “Deal!”

Chapter Two: The Stakeout

Several hours later, Jake picked up Amy in his car.

“So, what do you have planned for tonight?” Amy asked as she slid into the passenger’s seat.

“First, we’ll stop at Shaw’s for Charles’ party,” Jake explained. “Then, I thought we could take a drive upstate. Just see where the road takes us.”

“Awesome.”

The whole squad was at Shaw’s celebrating Charles. Earlier in the day, he had been honored by the NYPD for his bravery when he jumped in front of a bullet heading straight for Rosa just last month. Unfortunately, Charles had fallen off the stage while taking pictures. To relieve himself from the pain, he upped his pain medication, which had the amusing effect of making him very honest.

“Jake! Amy! So glad you stopped by,” Charles greeted them enthusiastically. Jake acknowledged Charles with a nod and then headed to the bar to get a drink for him and Amy, leaving her alone with Charles. Charles leaned in closer to Amy, raised his eyebrows and whispered, “You and Jake look so good together.”

Amy did not appreciate the weird look that Charles was giving her, insinuating that Jake and she made a cute couple. Jake was one of her best friends. She loved hanging out with him and competing with him at work. But he was irresponsible and messy and immature. While she did think he was attractive and had once had a small crush on him when they first met, now that she knew him better, there was no way she’d let their relationship be anything more than friendship.

She was relieved when Jake rejoined them, handing her a beer.

Charles wiggled his eyebrows as he said, “I’ll leave you two alone,” in an unpleasantly high-pitched tone.

Jake looked at Amy confused. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” Amy insisted before quickly changing the subject. “So, shall we go find a seat?”

She followed Jake to a table where they sat with Gina and Rosa. They talked about memories in Jake’s car, sharing both fun and horror stories. Just as Jake and Amy were getting ready to leave, the Captain called Jake over.

“So, small change in plans,” Jake said, walking back over to Amy. “Duty calls before we take off on our road trip.”

Half an hour later, Amy found herself sitting in Jake’s car in a sketchy side street staking out a warehouse.

“Sorry our road trip has been delayed,” Amy said to Jake. “But it’s still your last night with the car. Come sunrise, I’m the proud owner.”

Jake nodded. “Well, at least I’m still getting a night in the car. A stakeout is still a pretty awesome way to say goodbye.”

“I’m glad you think that,” Amy replied.

Amy looked around the street they were on. It was pretty dark, and it was hard to see anything. She was a little nervous that they’d miss the suspects because they couldn’t see very well. Clearly Jake was thinking the same thing.

“Hey, those people left that door open.” Jake nodded towards the building across the street from the one they were staking out. “I bet there’s a better vantage point from the roof.”

“Hmm. And I bet it doesn’t smell like old cheese,” Amy said, taking a low blow at Jake’s car.

“Okay, that’s hurtful,” Jake said. “Shall we?”

“Yeah,” Amy responded, keen to get out of the car.

Up on the roof, Amy found two crates. She carried them close to the edge of the roof and placed them down for her and Jake to sit on.

Jake, who was standing higher up on the roof declared, “Man, I don’t know how Batman does it. It is super scary up here.”

Amy laughed at Jake’s confession as he called out, “Hey, will you grab the binoculars? They’re in my stakeout bag.”

Amy rummaged through his bag, searching for his binoculars. “You’re stake out bag is 98% nuts,” she informed him.

“I get snacky,” Jake argued. “Besides, nuts are super healthy. They’re like 0% fat.”

“Jake, that’s not true at all. It’s actually the opposite.”

“What! That nut vendor lied to me?” Jake retorted in mock outrage.

Amy laughed. Jake was a grown man. How could he be so uninformed about the world? If it wasn’t so sad, she might have found his cluelessness endearing.

Jake held up the binoculars to his eyes. Amy looked closely out onto the street below them, taking in every detail of the area that she could, looking for anything suspicious going on.

“I think a pigeon just flew out of your car,” she informed Jake.

“Yeah,” Jake responded, not sounding surprised. “The windows don’t exactly roll up.”

Amy took a deep breath, wondering if she should tell Jake what she was thinking, about how awful his, or rather her, car was. Deciding there was nothing to lose by stating her honest opinion, she declared, “The car’s a piece of crap. Why do you love it so much?”

Jake sighed. Amy knew he was about to tell a story.

“You really want to know?”

She nodded.

“I was two days out of the academy, super nervous. I saw this guy run out of a bodega clutching a bunch of cash. So, I pursued him, on foot. Eleven blocks. Finally catch him, cuff him, throw him up against that car. Turned out there was a ‘for sale’ sign in the window. And it being the best day of my life, I bought it. Thus, began the debt.”

“’Crushing debt,’” Amy corrected him, recalling his words a year ago when they had made the bet.

Jake nodded enthusiastically and smiled as he replied, “Yeah. You do know me.”

She found Jake’s story about his beloved car heartwarming. For a moment, he had been vulnerable with her, admitting to being nervous, an emotion she had never known him to experience. Sure, it was stupid to go into debt over a car, especially one that was such a piece of shit. But, in Jake’s situation, it was pretty sweet. For the first time since she’d know him, she saw a sincere side of Jake. She couldn’t help but find it the tiniest bit attractive.

“Nut?” she asked, trying to distract herself from the unpleasant thought she’d just had.

“Only if you throw it,” Jake insisted.

“Ready? Ready?” she asked, preparing to toss a nut towards Jake.

“Mmm-hmm,” he hummed.

She threw it and he caught it in his mouth with ease. “Nice.”

Amy held the bag out towards Jake, and he took a nut. “Ready?”

“Uh-uh.”

Jake tossed the nut into the air. Amy tried her best, turning her head to the side. Ultimately, she failed to catch it in her mouth. Jake started laughing. “What are you doing? Trying to catch it in your nose?”

Amy laughed too, catching onto Jake’s contagious laughter.

Confident that she could catch a nut in her mouth, she declared, “I got it. I got it. I got it.”

They were interrupted by Jake’s phone ringing. He stood up and walked away as he said, “All right. It’s Holt. Keep practicing.”

Amy took another nut out of the bag, and threw it up into the air, again, failing to catch it. She took one more nut, trying, and failing yet again. Suddenly, she had an idea, she grabbed a handful of nuts and tossed them all in the air. Surely, she was bound to catch one of them. She was quite pleased with herself when she managed to get a nut in her mouth.

“What did Holt want?” Amy asked as Jake rejoined her.

“Just checking in. How you doing? Any progress?”

Amy was excited to show off to Jake her new ability to catch a nut in her mouth. “Yep, watch.”

She tossed her handful of nuts into the air, catching several of them this time.

“The key is volume,” she said, her mouth full.

Jake smirked. “I see that.”

After several more turns of tossing nuts back and forth to each other, Jake said, “So, be honest. Are you really gonna destroy my car?”

Amy smiled, thinking back on the week. She had constantly implied that she would cause damage against the car, even pretending to find out how she could light it on fire, hoping that the threat of not just losing the ownership of the car, but that the car would physically be gone, would distract Jake from beating her at the bet. Clearly, her strategy had succeeded.

Amy looked closely at Jake. She noticed the slightest tremor in his jaw, his eyes wide with concern. She could tell that he was genuinely concerned about the future status of his car. Now that she knew how much it meant to him, she felt bad about the threats she had made earlier this week.

Again, Amy felt herself feeling a new emotion towards Jake, one that she wasn’t 100% comfortable with. But his vulnerability and sincerity made him more attractive to her.

Ignoring her current confusion of feelings, Amy shook her head. “No, I’m gonna drive it. So, I can learn stick.”

Jake jerked his head towards Amy so fast she was surprised he hadn’t snapped it.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. I will,” she teased. “It’ll be like…” Amy started making screeching noises, indicating that she’d intentionally damage the car in her careless attempts to drive it.

“No, no…” Jake suddenly stopped protesting Amy’s mocking as he grabbed at her arm, calling her attention to the action on the street. “Hey, hey.”

Jake pulled Amy down so that they were both crouching on the ground. Amy peered out over the edge, where she saw a truck backing up to the docking station of the building across the street.

“There’s our guys,” Jake said, pointing at the truck that had pulled up down the block from where they were parked.

“What’s the play here?”

“Uhhh…” Jake hesitated.

Amy looked around them, looking for any bit of inspiration. She spotted Jake’s rundown car. Suddenly she had an idea. “Follow my lead.”

Amy took the keys out of Jake’s stakeout bag before she threw the bag to him. She led him down to the car and popped the hood. “Seriously,” she yelled at him. Jake looked confused, so Amy continued. “I told you the car was gonna die. It’s a piece of crap.”

Jake nodded, the slightest hint of a smile displayed on his face before he put his game face on. “Of course, my car is a piece of crap. All my stuff is crap. You have to criticize everything I own, or say, or do,” he barked back, throwing the bag into the back seat with a slam of the door.

Out of the corner of her eye, Amy saw the men at the truck sneaking glances at her and Jake. They would have to get louder, make it impossible for these guys to continue to ignore them.

“Well, when you don’t take care of your shit, we end up in these situations,” she shouted, raising her voice.

“Jeez, I guess I can’t do anything right,” Jake hollered back at her.

Finally, one of the men approached them. “Excuse me,” he said, tentatively. “Is everything alright here?”

“No,” Amy snapped at him. “My boyfriend here didn’t check the car like I told him to.”

Amy had not meant to say ‘boyfriend.’ Honestly. She was just going to pretend that Jake was her friend. That’s all. Where had the word ‘boyfriend’ come from?

“You need a jump?” the guy asked.

Amy looked to Jake and gave a nod. “Yes.”

Jake took over from there, pulling his gun out from the back of his pants. “But first, NYPD, on the ground, you’re under arrest.”

Amy looked over at Jake and smiled. “Nice job.”

“Thanks, you too.” Jake smiled back at Amy.

“Oh snap,” the guy reacted, putting his hands behind his head and kneeling down on the ground. “I’m sad you’re all arresting me, but I gotta say, I’m glad you’re not actually fighting. You all make a cute couple.”

There it was again – the insinuation that she and Jake were a couple. Not even just a couple, but a good one. This time was more alarming though than Charles’ suggestion. Charles knew and loved both Jake and Amy. His insistence that they would be a good couple could just be explained by a man wanting two of his best friends to be happy together. This guy though, well, he didn’t know Jake and Amy, and yet, he saw something between them.

By the time they got the guys to the precinct and completed all the paperwork, it was early in the morning. Jake and Amy were expected back at the precinct for their next shift in only a few hours. A road trip was out of the question.

Jake left the keys on Amy’s desk before he snuck out of the precinct without even saying goodbye. She hadn’t even noticed that he did it. She felt bad that he didn’t get his last night with his car, but she admired his commitment and that he stayed true to his word.

Early the next morning, Captain Holt called Amy into his office. “Good job on the stake out. I’m glad to see you two still work well together despite that ridiculous bet.”

Amy smiled at the Captain’s praise. “Thanks. Me, too.”

“And, I appreciate you turning down the relief team. I’m not sure they could’ve made that bust.”

Amy was confused, unsure about what the Captain was talking about. What relief team? All of a sudden, it dawned on her. That must have been the real reason the Captain had called last night. He wasn’t checking up on them, he was offering another team so that they could get back to Jake’s last night with his car. By why had Jake refused the relief team? He loved his car and she could tell that he really wanted one last night to fill with memories. Why would he trade in that night for one of paperwork?

“Yeah. Right. The relief team.”

Amy left the Captain’s office and paused, looking at Jake. She had the next two days off, and she was positive that Jake also had the same time off. She might have won the bet and now been the fair winner of Jake’s car, but she knew what she had to do. Walking past Jake’s desk, she dropped the keys in front of him.

“Huh?” Jake asked, picking up the keys and tossing them back on Amy’s desk. “You won. The car is yours. Fair and square.”

Amy tossed the keys back to Jake. “I promised you one last road trip with your car, and you didn’t get it. We’re both off tomorrow, I figured we could take your road trip this weekend.”

Jake beamed. “Okay, thanks.”

Amy couldn’t help but beam back. She couldn’t explain why Jake’s joy was making her so happy right now.

Chapter Three: The Road Trip

Thirty-six hours after he was initially meant to give Amy his car, Jake rolled up to her apartment building, ready for one last road trip. Amy heard him honking from her bedroom. She grabbed her backpack and went to meet him outside.

“Yo!” he shouted out the driver’s seat window.

“Yo!” she yelled back as she walked over to the car. After settling into the passenger seat, Jake took off. “So, where are we going?”

Jake fidgeted with the radio before responding to her. The music of Queen came blasting through the speakers. “We’re going East. I thought we could explore Long Island. Anywhere we want to stop, we stop. Just see where the road takes us.”

Amy nodded in agreement. “Awesome.”

Jake took off heading Northeast, up into Queens. When they started seeing signs for Citi Field, Jake talked about how his dad used to take him to Mets games when he was younger. Jake so rarely talked about his dad. She was touched that he was sharing something so personal with her.

“He’d always buy me a special program and ice cream in a helmet. I kept every single one. Every program. Every helmet. They’re all in a box under my bed in my mom’s house,” Jake described. “He took me to my first game when I was 5. The last game he took me to was when I was 9, so I only have like 4 or 5 programs and helmets. And obviously I’ve been to tons of games since then, but I’ve never been able to buy another program or ice cream in a helmet. It’s always been me and my dad’s thing. I haven’t been able to do it on my own.”

Amy stared at Jake through his monologue. Sure, Jake talked a lot. Seeing him say so much was nothing new. What was new however, was him talking so much about something serious and personal. He didn’t even notice her staring as he continued on.

“Actually, I cried at the first game that I went to at Citi Field. Not like hysterical, just shed a couple of tears. It was as if I was mourning the fact that I’d never get to go to a game at Shea Stadium with my dad ever again. I hadn’t even known that the last time would be the last.” Finally, Jake looked over at Amy. “Why are you looking at me weird? Am I talking too much?”

Amy shook her head. “No, not at all. Thanks for opening up to me Jake.”

Jake stared straight ahead, keeping his eyes focused on the road. He shrugged. “You’re easy to talk to.”

They drove in silence for a little while. Eventually, Amy saw a sign for Sagamore Hill.

“Ooh! Sagamore Hill. Teddy Roosevelt’s home. I’ve always wanted to go.”

Jake took the exit. “Then we should go.”

They pulled into the parking lot at around 9:15. Amy went into the visitor’s center as Jake walked around the grounds. She met him 10 minutes later.

“C’mon,” she exclaimed, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the house. “Our tour starts in 5 minutes.”

Amy knew that history was not Jake’s thing. She kept looking at him while they toured the house, wanting to make sure that he was enjoying himself. He seemed pretty interested in what the park ranger was telling them. He even asked a follow-up question about Roosevelt’s conservation efforts.

After the tour they visited the gift shop. Amy picked out a teddy bear to buy her youngest niece. Jake bought a teddy bear, too. He insisted it was for his mom, though Amy had a feeling it was really for himself.

“Thanks for doing that for me,” Amy said when they were back on the road.

Jake glanced over at Amy, a small smile on his face. “Well, you listened to me get emotional about my dad. So, we’re even.”

“Well, to show my gratitude, I have a treat for you.” Amy reached into the backseat to grab her backpack. She pulled out her surprise for Jake with a “Ta-da!”

Jake looked at what she was holding up and gasped. “Gummy bears!”

She put the backpack down by her feet and opened the bag of gummy bears. She grabbed Jake’s hand to hold it steady in her own. She couldn’t help but notice the way his hand twitched at her touch. She poured him a handful of bears and them picked out a few for herself.

“You’re the best, Ames!” Jake exclaimed with a mouthful of candy.

Having spent some time on the North Shore of Long Island, Jake decided that they needed to head south now. They kept driving, Amy sharing the gummy bears with him until they where all gone. Eventually they were at Heckscher State Park.

“When I was little, my Grandparents lived not too far from here,” Jake explained as he pulled into the parking lot. “After my dad left, my mom had to work more, so sometimes I’d spend weekends out here with them. If the weather was nice, my Grandfather would take me to the playground here while my Grandmother was at her Garden Club.”

“Do they still live here?” Amy asked as she climbed out of the car.

“Nah, they moved to Florida when they retired when I was 19. Then my grandmother passed away when I was 27 and my grandfather passed away a few months later.”

Amy was learning more about Jake today then she had learned about him in the last five years that they worked together. She was touched that he was feeling comfortable opening up to her.

They walked along the path, Jake pointing out places he remembered – where he rode his bike for the first time, where he played little league baseball, where he fell and scraped his chin, where Gina had kissed him when she visited his Grandparents with him when they were 16. Eventually, they reached the bay. “And this is where I learned how to swim. My grandfather was very patient. We spent hours here every Saturday when I was 8 and by the end of the summer, I was swimming!”

Amy didn’t say anything, she just looked at Jake. She’d known him for five years and had always considered them to be good friends. But she never realized until now how little she actually knew about him. She was liking everything that she was hearing. She enjoyed Jake’s vulnerability and openness. It felt like their friendship was evolving.

Jake turned away from the water, which he had been looking at so intensely, to look at Amy. “You’re looking at me weird again. Oh no! Am I talking too much again?” he worried. “You know you can tell me to shut up.”

Amy rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder. “I’m seeing a whole new side to you.” She walked away from him, closer to the water. “I don’t completely hate it.”

Jake strolled closer to the water too, though he kept some distance from her. Silently, they both stared out at the bay. After several minutes, Jake strode over to her and nudged her shoulder, gesturing towards the path. They walked back to the car in silence. It wasn’t a comfortable silence though. There was an awkwardness in the air. Something had shifted. Amy worried that she had said something wrong.

Back in the car Jake put the key into the ignition, pausing before he turned the key to start the car. He turned to look at Amy and she looked back. Jake shook his head and turned the key. He inched forward into the next parking spot, but then stopped the car and pulled the key out, turning back to Amy again.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he stated.

“Oooookayyyy…” Amy replied when Jake failed to elaborate any further.

Jake took a deep breath. “I opened up to you the other night about my car and why its so important to me. And now I can’t stop. It’s like verbal diarrhea. All these personal stories just keep spilling out and I can’t stop myself.”

Amy nodded. “It’s not a bad thing Jake,” she assured him. “It’s good to have friends you can open up to and be vulnerable with.”

Jake scrunched up his nose. “I don’t know” He sounded hesitant. “You’re not going to tease me? You’re not going to use these things to mock me later?”

She placed her hand on his shoulder and he leaned closer into her. The way he looked at her was so innocent, so pure. It was a look he had never given her before. If she was being honest, she really liked the way he was currently looking at her. “I would never tease you or mock you for the things that make you who you are,” she promised.

Jake bit his bottom lip and then pulled her into a hug. “Thanks.”

Amy’s heart beat faster in Jake’s embrace. When he let go to start driving again, she missed the feel of his arms around her. She ached for the feel of his chest pressed against her.

As they drove along the south shore of Long Island, Amy looked at Jake. There was a crease in his forehead. She could tell that he was still a little uneasy about his sudden display of vulnerability. She knew that the only way to make him feel safer was to show him her own vulnerable side.

“Sometimes I worry that I’m going to die unmarried and alone,” she confessed.

Jake laughed, and she immediately regretted sharing one of her most private fears with Jake. She turned away from him, resting her head against the window, watching the stores passing by out the window.

“Ames,” Jake said. She ignored him. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, repeating her name again. She couldn’t stand to look at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just… I didn’t realize…There’s just…How could you possibly be alone for the rest of your life? You’re smart and kind and beautiful and so much fun to be around…”

Amy turned to look at Jake. His hand was still on her shoulder, and he was glancing back at forth between her and the road. They came to a curve in the road, and he took his hand off her shoulder to control the wheel better. Once the road straightened out again, he put his hand on her knee, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Any guy would be lucky to be with you.”

Jake removed his hand, and just as she had ached for his embrace, she ached for the pressure of his hand on her knee. She really couldn’t explain what was going on. Just like Jake couldn’t rationalize his sudden display of vulnerability, she couldn’t describe her sudden desire for Jake’s touch and intimacy.

She shook it off to elaborate on her fear.

“It’s just that it’s been so long since I’ve been on a decent date, let alone with someone that I could actually see myself with.” She told him about the magician who thought it was a clever trick to strip down to his boxers, the dentist who gave her an oral exam during the middle of dinner, the artist who kept taking food off her plate without asking, the gym teacher who showed up to a nice restaurant in sweats and complained about the number of calories in each dish, and several other embarrassing and bizarre dates.

“That’s not you. You’re just going out with the wrong guys,” Jake assured her.

“I don’t know,” Amy countered. “These are the guys who ask me out. Do I only attract weirdos?”

Jake shook his head aggressively. “I think you intimidate a lot of guys. I’m not saying that it’s ok. I just think the guys who are good enough for you fear that they’re not good enough for you. “

Amy didn’t respond.

“Does that make sense?” Jake asked.

“Eh,” Amy shrugged.

“You’ll find the right guy. I really believe that,” Jake reassured her.

They continued driving on in silence. Thankfully, not as awkwardly as it was back in the park. In the silence, Amy could hear Jake’s stomach rumbling. She laughed.

“It’s probably time to eat something,” Jake declared, laughing along with Amy.

Amy peered out the window, keeping her eyes open for an interesting place to grab something for lunch.

“How about that Brewery?” Amy asked, pointing to a larger building coming up with a sign that read Blue Point Brewery.

“Looks good to me.”

They each ordered a beer and a sandwich (Cajun Tuna for Amy, Steak for Jake). The conversation was lighter as they ventured into more familiar territory, discussing cases and Amy’s love for their new Captain (Jake was still on the fence about Captain Holt).

They were back on the road just a little before 2:00. Things seemed to be back to normal between them. It had been nice to see a more vulnerable side of Jake. And Amy hadn’t minded sharing something more personal with him. It was nice to explore a different side of their friendship. That being said though, she was happy that they were settling back into their comfort zone, laughing and being silly.

They continued driving east along the south shore of Long Island, eventually reaching the Hamptons. In Southampton, Amy suggested they stop and walk around the town. Being the offseason, not many shops were open, but that was okay. She had fun exploring one of America’s oldest department stores, Hildreth’s. As a gift of gratitude to Jake, for appeasing her as she awed over home furnishings they both knew she wasn’t going to buy, she bought him a quarter pound of fudge at the candy store.

“Hey, I saw a large empty parking lot on our way into the town,” Jake announced as they walked back to the car. “It’d be a good place to practice driving.”

Amy nervously bit her bottom lip. Yes, that was the terms of the bet. Once this road trip was over, Jake’s car would be hers. She had told Jake she would drive his car, despite not knowing how to drive stick, implying that the result could potentially be disastrous. Knowing now how much this car meant to him, she felt bad about telling Jake that she would destroy his car. Out of respect to Jake, she really should learn how to properly drive his car.

They switched spots in the parking lot. Jake gave her a quick overview before directing her step by step through driving stick. She made several mistakes, but Jake was patient with her, even through his wincing. She was finally getting the hang of it when Jake suggested she take the car out on the road.

“You’re sure?” She was starting to get the hang of it but wasn’t feeling confident yet.

“You’ll be fine,” Jake insisted. “Besides, the roads are pretty empty, we’re safe. Just listen to me and focus.”

Amy smiled at Jake’s confidence in her. It made her feel good knowing that he believed in her capabilities.

Slowly but surely, she drove out on the major roads out east. Jake had been right; being winter in summer towns meant that there were very few, if any, cars on the road. By the time the reached Montauk, “The End,” Amy’s confidence in her ability to drive stick was matching Jake’s confidence in her.

“Ames!” he exclaimed. “That was awesome! I’m so proud of you!”

Amy couldn’t help but beam. Yes, she was proud of herself, too. But hearing that Jake was proud of her made her even happier. She couldn’t explain why.

She parked and they got out and walked around the town. As they got closer to the lighthouse, they saw signs stating that the last group up would be let in at 4:45pm.

“We can make it,” Amy asserted, as she grabbed Jake’s hand and pulled him, running to make the last entry up into the lighthouse.

They made it with seconds to spare. Her heart skipped a beat and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered when Jake didn’t immediately release her hand once they reached the lighthouse.

As they walked up the stairs, Amy walked in front of Jake. The steps were steep, and Amy’s heart skipped a beat every time Jake placed his hand on the small of her back to help her steady herself up the stairs. When they reached the top, the small balcony was crowded with others, trying to get in a quick look before the lighthouse closed for the evening. Amy stood, leaning against the railing, enjoying the view of the Atlantic Ocean. She was squeezed between an overly affectionate couple on the left and an adorable family with three small children on the right. To conserve space, or, at least that’s why she thought he was doing it, Jake stood behind her, his arms stretched out on either side of her, resting on the rail. Amy stood with her front pressed up against the railing. When another couple tried to pass behind him, Jake moved up, pressing his front into Amy’s back. Her heart started beating faster as she felt him pressed up against him.

“Sorry,” Jake mumbled when Amy looked behind her. He made to step back, regardless of there being little room, with more people trying to pass behind him.

“Don’t worry about it,” she insisted, pulling him back into her to allow room for others to pass. A kaleidoscope of butterflies exploded in her stomach when Jake stayed pressed up against her.

It wasn’t long before they were ushered down the stairs so the lighthouse staff could shut down for the night. Jake and Amy walked a little bit through the town. They occasionally bumped into each other. Amy could feel Jake’s hand twitch whenever he accidentally grazed hers.

Jake suggested they get dinner before they headed back into the city. They found a little bar that looked cozy. Despite there being plenty of empty tables, they decided to eat at the bar. They each ordered a beer and a few appetizers to share – mozzarella sticks, potato skins, and fish tacos.

“Oh my God!” Amy exclaimed as she saw a lonely bride enter the bar. Her light blonde hair was braided into a bun at the nape of her neck and her long-sleeved, bohemian dress flowed down to the middle of her shin.

Amy leaned in closer to Jake to whisper to him. “Do you think it’s a runaway bride situation?”

They tried not to stare, even when the bride took the empty seat next to Jake.

“Hi!” the bride said to them, beaming from ear to ear.

“Hi!” Jake and Amy responded, unsure of how to react.

“I just got married,” the bride explained, unable to stop smiling.

“Congrats!” Amy responded.

“Here’s my husband!” the bride exclaimed. A tall man with a buzzcut, dressed in a slender-fitting gray suit walked in. Once he spotted his new wife, he ran to join her, grabbing her up into a hug and passionately kissing her. It was one of the sweetest things she’d ever seen.

“Hi, I’m Ken,” the groom said, holding his hand out to Jake and Amy. “This is my wife, Florence.”

Jake and Amy shook his hand and congratulated him.

Ken and Florence were an adorable couple. They couldn’t stop smiling, or keep their eyes, or hands, off each other.

“We wanted a moment just the two of us before we head to the reception,” Florence explained to Jake and Amy.

“Can we buy you a drink?” Amy offered.

Ken shook his head as he got the bartender’s attention. “No, that’s okay, thanks though. Drinks are on us.”

Florence and Ken bought a round of champagne for everyone in the bar. The bartender toasted the happy new couple. As they drank their champagne, then their beer, while they waited for their food to arrive, Jake and Amy talked to the newlyweds.

Ken and Florence had meet five years ago. They worked together at the same marketing firm in the city. They were friendly, hanging out and occasionally flirting. Then, after a year working together, they were assigned to head a campaign together. After many late nights working just the two of them, they realized that their feelings were more than just friendly. So, Ken asked Florence out and they fell in love.

“What about you two? How did you meet? How long have you been together?” Florence asked.

“Oh, no…we’re not…we’re just…” Jake stuttered, while Amy explained, “No, we’re just colleagues. We’re police detectives.”

“Yeah, but there’s something going on between you two, right?” Ken asked.

“Nope, just friends,” Amy said.

“Yeah, just friends,” Jake echoed Amy, though quieter and less sure.

Ken and Florence finished their champagne and Ken checked his phone. “Uh, oh. We’ve got a lot of missed calls. We should probably head off to our reception.”

Florence threw her arms around his neck and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Please, one shot before we go.”

Ken ordered a round of tequila for his new wife, Jake and Amy. They clinked their glasses together and took their shots.

“It was so nice meeting you,” Florence said, pulling Amy into a hug. Quietly, she whispered into Amy’s ear. “Jake really likes you. He looks at you the way Ken looks at me.”

Amy was startled by Florence’s insinuation. Jake liking Amy. She doubted it. Jake was constantly teasing her. She thought back to their day. Jake had opened up to her in a way he never had before. He taken her to visit a historical, presidential home. He shared a part of his childhood. He explored a new department store with her, never once teasing her for her old lady taste in furniture.

And, then there was the way his body reacted at the slightest touch of their bodies. The way his fingers twitched. The way he squeezed her knee, the way his hand felt on her back. The way she could feel his heart beating against her back on the top of the lighthouse.

Maybe Florence was on to something.

Amy waved goodbye to the newlyweds, just as their food arrived. As they ate, they talked about TV shows they were watching and movies they’d recently seen. They were so engrossed in their discussion that they hadn’t noticed that the bartender brought them both another beer, which they both drank without realizing it.

Chapter Four: The Hotel Room

“I’m a little tipsy. I don’t think I can drive,” Jake confessed once they paid for their dinner and made their way out of the bar.

“Me either,” Amy admitted. “Should we just walk around until we sober up?”

“Um, it’s getting pretty cold, and dark. And there’s nothing open. And, it’s almost 7:30, anyway. By the time we sober up and make it all the way back home, it will be like, midnight,” Jake countered. “We could get a hotel room. Each. We can each get our own hotel room.”

Amy looked up at Jake. He was looking down at her with a worried look on his face. She nodded. “Sure.”

They walked a few blocks to the hotel.

“Can we get 2 rooms?” Jake asked the receptionist.

“I’ll check what’s available. There’s a big wedding here this weekend so we’re pretty booked.” The receptionist typed away on the computer. “Looks like there’s only one room available.”

Jake looked down at Amy. “Oh…we don’t… we can find another hotel. Or I can sleep in the car,” he stammered.

Amy shook her head. “It’s okay. We can take the room.”

“You sure?” Jake asked.

Amy shrugged. “Yeah, it’s fine. We’re friends, we can share a hotel room.”

Amy paid for the room.

She looked down at herself and then looked at Jake. “I don’t have a change of clothes or any toiletries or anything.”

Jake looked down at himself too. “Yeah, me neither.”

“There’s soap and shampoo and stuff in the hotel room,” the receptionist interjected. He bent down to pull something out from under the counter. “Here’s toothpaste and toothbrushes for you. And you can pick up some clothes at our hotel shop. It’s been closed up for the night, but I can let you in to pick out some stuff, as long as you promise to come back and pay for it all before you leave tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much!” Amy took the toothbrushes and toothpaste from the receptionist and followed him to the store. She picked out a gray pair of sweatpants and a red crewneck sweatshirt, while Jake picked out a black pair of shorts and a blue long sleeve shirt. They thanked the receptionist again and made their way towards their room.

“Jake! Amy!” Amy turned to look who was calling them. Who did they know in Montauk? Of course, it was Florence and Ken.

“What are you doing here?” Florence asked, approaching Jake and Amy.

“We might have had a little too much to drink,” Amy explained. “We’re just going to sleep here tonight.”

“Oh, okay,” Florence replied, wiggling her eyebrows. Her facial expression was a little too similar to Charles’ when he implied that Jake and Amy would be a cute couple. Amy didn’t know how she felt about the fact that for the third time in less than 48 hours someone had suggested that she and Jake made a cute couple. Thinking back on her interactions with Jake since then, she couldn’t help thinking that perhaps all these people were on to something.

“We’re just changing before we had back to our reception,” Ken clarified. “Hey, you two should join us.”

Amy looked up at Jake. He scrunched up his nose, a look that she knew meant he wasn’t sure; it was a look she had seen numerous times while working on cases with him.

“Thanks for the offer, but I think we’re just going to head back to our room. We’ve had a long day,” Amy responded.

“You sure?” Florence asked.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Jake replied.

Amy followed Jake to their room. Once they arrived, she opened up the room. She was shocked to find that there was only one bed in the room.

“Um, I can go sleep in the car,” Jake offered.

Amy shook her head. “Don’t be silly, there’s plenty of room.”

“Ok, yeah, I’ll just sleep on the floor,” Jake responded.

Again, Amy shook her head. “Jake, you can sleep in the bed. It’s plenty big enough.”

Jake raised his eyebrows. She could tell he was about to ask again if she was sure. She responded before he could ask again. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Okay. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.”

Amy went into the bathroom to change and wash up. When she emerged, Jake had changed too. As Jake went into the bathroom to wash up, there was a knock at the door. When Amy opened the door, she was greeted by a hotel staff member holding a bottle of champagne.

“I think you have the wrong room…” Amy started but was cut off by the staff member. “It’s a gift from Florence and Ken for Jake and Amy.”

Amy thanked the delivery girl and took the bottle. She noticed a card attached to the neck of the bottle. She opened it up as she closed the door.

Jake and Amy

It was wonderful meeting you. Enjoy this bottle on us! ;)

Love,

Florence and Ken

There was also a post script suggesting that they meet up in the city with both of their phone numbers.

“Who was that?” Jake asked, emerging from the bathroom.

Amy held up the bottle. “A gift from our favorite newlyweds.”

“No doubt, no doubt. That was cool of them,” Jake responded, taking the bottle from Amy. As he opened it up, she grabbed 2 coffee mugs from the desk. Jake poured them each a mug of champagne. They clinked their mugs, toasting their new friends.

Amy sat down on the bed while Jake took the seat at the desk. She turned on the TV, flipping through channels, looking for something they would both agree on watching. An old rerun of SNL was playing on NBC, and Amy left the TV on this channel. They sat in silence, watching, laughing along at the funnier sketches.

During a commercial break, Amy noticed Jake reading the note from Florence and Ken. “Why’d she add a winky face?” he asked.

Amy could feel her face getting red. “Oh, um, well, Florence thinks…you see…she said to me…”

“Ames, what’s going on?”

Amy took a deep breath. “Florence told me she thinks we’d be a cute couple.”

Amy could see Jake take a deep gulp, his face now also turning red. “Oh, okay.”

They both sat there in silence for a moment. Jake turned his attention back to the TV. Halfway through the first sketch after the commercial break, Jake stood up and turned off the TV, turning to look at Amy. “Ken said the same thing to me.”

“Oh, okay.” Amy couldn’t think of anything to say in response to that.

Jake took a step closer to the bed. “Charles has also been implying lately that he thinks I like you and that he wants us to be a couple.”

Amy nodded. “Yeah, he made a comment about that to me too the other night.”

Jake nodded and shrugged. “And those perps made the comment about us being a cute couple.”

“That’s true,” Amy whispered as Jake took a step even closer to her. She found herself unable to speak as Jake sat down next to her on the bed. He was pretty close, his knee grazing her own. Amy felt electricity streaming though her body at the slightest hint of Jake’s touch.

“Do you think all these people are seeing something we don’t see?” Jake whispered. He scooted a little closer to Amy on the bed, giving her goosebumps at how close they were now, their legs resting next to each other’s.

Amy gulped, taking a moment to gain courage. “I think I might understand what everyone else is seeing.”

She was so nervous, she spoke so low. She wasn’t even sure that Jake had heard what she said. But he leaned closer to her, taking her hand in his.

“I think I see it too.” With that he leaned forward and kissed Amy.

She paused at first, shocked by his actions. Her heart was racing and she felt like she was sweating. But as Jake continued to kiss her, she leaned into it, kissing him back. She let go of his hand and wrapped her arms around his neck as he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer into him. Amy shifted back on the bed so that she was leaning against the headrest and Jake shifted with her.

Suddenly, Jake pulled away from Amy, his hands still on her waist. “We’ve had a lot to drink tonight. We should probably stop.”

Amy nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” But instead of letting go, she pulled him back in to kiss him again.

They continued to kiss for several more minutes before Amy eventually pulled away. She let go of Jake and jumped off the bed. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. We’ve had too much to drink tonight. We should stop before we do something we regret.”

“Yep,” Jake replied. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. No doubt, no doubt, no doubt.”

Amy looked at Jake. She couldn’t stop smiling. She was so happy about what had just happened. Jake was smiling too.

“I’m gonna go brush my teeth,” she announced.

“I’m gonna wait here,” Jake replied. “I need a minute.”

Amy looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her face was flushed, but she couldn’t shake the smile off her face. She felt like it was going to be a permanent fixture for quite a while.

When she finished up in the bathroom, Jake went in to brush his teeth. He placed a chaste kiss on her cheek as he passed her, making her smile grow even larger.

Amy settled into the bed. She turned the TV back on, which was now playing the local news. After several minutes, Jake joined her again. He settled into the bed beside her, turning off the lights in the room. Jake held his arm out and Amy shifted into his side, allowing Jake to cuddle in close to her, her head resting on his chest.

They continued watching TV. After the news, a new episode of SNL started. Soon, Amy began to drift off to sleep. The last thing she noticed before she finally drifted into a blissful sleep was Jake pressing a kiss on the top of her head.

Chapter Five: The New Bet

Amy woke up the next morning, still feeling elated about last night’s events. She was feeling warm in Jake’s embrace. Her head was on his chest, and he was holding her tightly.

“Good morning,” Jake said. Amy looked up at Jake. He kissed her softly on the lips.

“Good morning.”

Amy wriggled out from Jake’s embrace and got out of bed. She looked at her phone, seeing that it was almost 8:00 in the morning.

‘We should get back to the city,” she declared.

She and Jake changed back into their clothes from yesterday. They checked out of the hotel, stopping by the hotel gift shop to pay for the clothes they picked out yesterday. They walked to a bagel shop down the block to get a breakfast to go.

On the drive home, they sang along to the radio and talked about concerts they enjoyed. Every so often, Jake would reach over to Amy and squeeze her knee or hold her hand. At every touch, Amy’s heart skipped a beat. She was so happy. Who would have ever though that Jake Peralta would be able to make her so happy?

Eventually, they reached Jake’s building. He parked the car and turned it off, turning in his seat so that he was facing Amy. “So, I guess this is it. I’m going to miss you, girl.”

Amy was confused. “Um, I’ll see you again.”

Jake shook his head. “I was talking to the car.”

“Of course, you were.” Amy looked closely at Jake. He was really torn apart over losing his car. Charles had been right. Giving up this car would be the worst thing in the world for Jake. Amy hated seeing Jake like this. Especially after everything that had happened between them last night.

“I think you should keep your car,” Amy proclaimed.

Jake took her hand, squeezing it and shook his head. “No, no. You won fair and square. It’s yours.”

“No, it’s yours,” Amy argued. Jake opened his mouth to argue, but Amy held her finger to his mouth to quiet him. “It’s your car because the terms of our bet weren’t fair. You bet one of the most important things in the world to you. And for me, well, I guess I’ve realized that being ‘one of those chicks in your car’ really is not the worst thing in the world. Actually, ‘being one of those chicks in your car’ is kinda awesome.

Jake beamed. “Ames, you’re awesome.” He pulled her into a hug, kissing her cheek. He leaned back and they kissed for quite some time.

“Well, you still won the bet,” Jake stated. “What do you get?”

Amy smiled. “Let’s continue the bet. In one year, whoever loses has to pay to take the winner on a date.”

“It’s a deal.” Jake leaned away from Amy and held out her hand. She shook it, sealing in the new terms of their bet.

#b99 summer 2021 fic exchange #b99 fandom events #Brooklyn Nine Nine #b99 #Jake and Amy #fanfic #writing #@stolethekey

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novelist-becca · 4 years

Text

I’m getting old and I need something to rely on

Ko-Fi Commission for @liesminelli! I’m so sorry this took so long.

Fandom: The Owl House

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Eda Clawthorne & Luz Noceda, Eda Clawthorne & Lilith Clawthorne

Summary: Eda misses her magic, and Lilith makes her feel worse. Luckily, she has a kid to remind her she’s not alone.

Title is from the song Somewhere Only We Know by Keane.

AO3 link here

FFN link here

Also, part of the argument scene was inspired by this post by @sterling-jay and the hug scene was inspired by a scene from Ponyo, where Lisa tackle-hugs Sosuke. Watch that scene if you want to see what I had in mind.

Losing her magic was the pits.

Eda knew that she wouldn't escape petrification completely fine, but it was still a bummer when she tries to cast a light spell, or any other spell, and nothing happened. It felt like there was a phantom ache, like something was ripped out of her.

And she remembers what Luz said.

“It's okay. I can teach you what I know, and what we don't know, we can learn together.”

Eda said she looks forward to it, but…she doesn't know if she's ready to accept that her magic might be gone for good. She doesn't want Luz to feel bad, either. The kid wants to help her. Still, her magic is not the same…

But you gotta let her.

Thanks to how long they were up and what they went through, nobody started waking up until 10:30-ish. When Eda walked into the kitchen that morning and saw Lilith there, her stomach churned. She'd almost forgotten that she let her stay.

Lilith had only started to make things better by using her pain-sharing spell and bringing her back to her cursed form. She couldn't just leave her out there after that. But…it was long overdue. They both knew that. Lilith may be her sister, and she may have removed half of the curse, but she is still the one who cursed her in the first place. She's still the one who said nothing for years, who thought the best solution was to have her arrested instead of facing her and talking to her. Hell, she even mocked her “weakened” state a few times before! And worst of all, she was still the one that had hurt Luz.

Of course, Eda warned her the night before about what she'd do if she ever harmed or disrespected Luz again. She hopes she'll take it to heart.

“Oh, good morning Edalyn.” Lilith greeted. Unlike yesterday, her hair was…a bit less neat. It was…somewhat refreshing.

Eda said nothing and only side-eyed her as she made her cup of apple blood. She doesn't have the energy to talk to Lilith right now.

Lilith shrugged and started searching the kitchen for something. “Ugh, I need some coffee. Honestly, Edalyn, how do you find anything in here?”

Eda rolled her eyes. “Look in the cabinet. And it's not that messy.”

“I see.”

While Lilith made her drink, Eda sipped hers, wondering when Luz would come down. She supposes that the girl is sleeping in. Understandable, given last night. Luz will wake up on her own time.

Or maybe I should go wake her up, Eda thinks, feeling worry build up.

Lilith sat across from her, staring into her mug. “So…it turns out that I still have some of my magic.” She began.

That made Eda look up. “Oh?”

“Of course, it's weakened, so I'm not as strong as before, but at least I still have it.” Lilith said with a small smile.

“And you're telling me this why?” Eda said, narrowing her eyes. A part of her was jealous, and angry. Why does Lilith get to keep her magic after everything?

“Because I can help you now! You may have lost your magic completely-”

“Don't remind me…”

“-but I still have mine! I can still help you! Isn't that wonderful?”

Eda stared at her sister. She talked about how she still has her powers as if it's some miracle. But to Eda, it feels unfair.

“What, you think I'm useless without magic?” Eda glared.

Lilith looked taken aback. “N-no, of course not! I just mean that I think you could use a lot more help now that you've lost your powers.”

“You think I'm weak? You say this like it'll comfort me somehow, but it's doing the exact opposite.” Eda said. The last thing she needed was somebody making her feel inferior.

“I thought that at the very least you'd be happy.” Lilith said sternly.

Eda stood up. “Happy? You think I'd be happy that you still have your natural magic after everything you did?” She sneered.

Lilith stood up as well. “I share the curse with you now! I thought you'd appreciate that I'm making an effort now!”

“Well, I do appreciate it. But what else do you have to answer for? Oh right. Not saying anything about the truth for thirty fucking years, trying to have me arrested as a solution…” Eda listed, clenching her fists.

“Edalyn! You know I was only trying to help!”

“And there's also how you thought our tyrant of an emperor could cure me! You call that helping?”

“You wouldn't understand! You're being very unreasonable! Don’t forget I saved you!” Lilith tried.

“No, Luz did, which is another thing, you tried to kill her to bring me down!” Eda yelled. The image of her own sister tossing Luz over the bridge would never leave her head.

“Edalyn! I'm not the only one who played a part in your suffering, you know!” Lilith argued, slamming her hands on the table.

“Oh really? Your part in my suffering? Who else was involved, sister? Do tell me.”

“I admit, Emperor Belos is a deceptive liar, and I was a fool to believe him. And the petrification may have played a part in taking away your powers. And the hu-”

Eda pointed an accusing finger at her sister, glaring daggers. “Apupup! Stop right there! Don't you dare finish. Luz has nothing to do with this.”

“But if she hadn't-”

“Hadn't what? Luz was only trying to help me.” She growled. “And she definitely helped me more than you did. You don't get to blame her for your mistakes. Not on my watch.” Eda took a deep breath to calm herself. She hoped their argument hadn't woken up Luz. However, at that moment, she noticed the girl coming down the stairs, only to stop mid-step, watching the sisters, looking unsure if she should intervene or not.

Shit, we probably woke her up. I hope she didn’t hear anything she shouldn’t have...

“Why can't you just trust me? I thought that we had a chance at making things better!” Lilith said angrily.

“Why should I?” Eda said lowly, crossing her arms.

Then, at that moment, the conversation was interrupted by Luz grabbing King, trying to keep him from running into the kitchen.

“No, don’t!” she muttered. Eda and Lilith turned to see her looking up sheepishly and slowly making her way back up the stairs. Unfortunately, King had escaped her arms and began shuffling around the kitchen for food. Lilith’s shoulders slumped.

Eda pinched the bridge of her nose and turned back to her sister. “Lily, listen to me when I say you can’t just split the curse with me and expect everything to be instantly better again. You have a long ways to go before you can expect me to forgive you. Think about that.” Then she turned around towards the stairs. “I need to be alone.”

As soon as Luz saw Eda pass in the hallway, she got up and made her way towards her mentor’s room. She knows Eda might want some privacy, but after hearing the fight downstairs, she couldn’t just...leave her alone.

And Luz definitely knows Eda would do the same for her.

When she reached the door, she raised her fist to knock. “Eda?” she said. “It’s me, can I...can I come in?”

After 10 seconds, Luz pushed the door open and let herself in. Her mentor was splayed out face-down in her nest, one arm hanging over the edge. She’s hurting, I know it, Luz tells herself. She walks closer.

Eda senses the girl’s presence, but says nothing. Normally, she’d tell her to go away, but she didn’t have the energy to do so. She found the kid’s company comforting anyway.

Luz stood in front of the nest, looking down at the witch. “I...heard you and Lilith. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I promise!” Eda said nothing. “I understand how you feel. You’re not the only one who lost something, you know?” Luz continues, hoping Eda was listening. “You lost your magic, and...I lost my only way home.” Luz lifted a hand to stroke Eda’s hair, feeling her throat start to tighten at the reminder of her loss. “We’re in this together, okay? I-I’m gonna help you, promise. I owe it to you.”

Eda looked up, seeing Luz looking out the window. Her heart warmed at how unbelievably understanding the girl was. Once again, she was reminded of how much she had changed since Luz had come into her life. Her beloved, sweet, caring kid was like a light in the darkness. In a sudden burst of affection, she reached out.

Suddenly Luz was yanked into a tight hug. “Ah-!” she grunted, startled by the sudden mood change. Eda had flipped herself over, squeezing her girl affectionately and holding her close.

They were in an awkward position, but Eda didn’t care. Titan, she loved this kid so much! “You’re so good!” she said. Then she sat up, still holding Luz. She pulled away slightly, looking down at her. “Don’t you worry, kiddo, you don’t owe me a thing. I know that as long as we’re together, everything’s gonna be okay.” She moved a hand up to ruffle the girl’s hair, then moved it to cup her cheek. “I love you so much.”

Luz smiled, leaning her head against the witch’s chest. “Okay.” Her heart warms at how much Eda cares. So she laid there, letting Eda hold her.

The pair sat there for a moment, Eda cradling her kid close and resting her cheek on the top of her head. It wasn’t often they got a moment like this, and she wanted to cherish it. There’s no way she deserved somebody this wonderful.

It was Luz who broke the silence first. “I know you miss your powers, but, will you let me know when you’re ready to try glyphs?”

Eda loosened her grip a little bit so Luz could move to sit in her lap more comfortably. “I think I can try them out for you.” She said. Luz was right. Glyphs may not be the same as her old magic, but they’re still magic. If Luz can figure it out with that big brain of hers, then why not her?

Luz smiled, satisfied with that answer. She wrapped Eda in another hug.

Another minute massed and Eda pulled back. “You know what? How about we go see what we can scrounge up for breakfast? I’m starving, and I’m sure you are too.”

Luz nodded. “Heck yes I am! But, it’s almost noon, so, don’t you mean brunch?”

Eda rolled her eyes. “Eh, what the hell, I was close.” she playfully flicked Luz’s forehead, earning a giggle from her. “And after that, you can try to teach me, got it? Let’s see what you can do with that big brain of yours.” she said, ruffling Luz’s hair affectionately.

“Eda, you’re the best!”

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dat-town · 4 years

Text

Busan drift

Characters: racer!Felix & racer!You

Setting : street racing au (all I know is coming from the Fast & Furious franchise so excuse my shitty knowledge about cars and races)

Summary: A new face around the races in your beloved seaside town always means trouble, especially if he’s as cocky and arrogant as that mysterious silver-haired guy seems.

Warning: nothing really apart from good ol’ competitiveness

Words: 4.7k

For the one and only @lily-blue! Love ya, dear! ♥

There's a smug smile playing on your lips the moment you cross the finish line, tires screeching against the asphalt as you step on the break and take a perfect U-turn to park your car in the middle of the impressed crowd. Adrenalin still rushes through your veins just as the car's engine still rumbles under you and fingers warm against the wheel, you let the satisfying feeling of winning hype you up before opening your door.

"That's my girl!" Chan welcomes you with a proud smile stretching over his lips, big palm patting you on the blade bones in congratulations before anyone else could. You grin at the brunette and reciprocate Changbin's half hug within the circle of your friends and admirers.

"Today's on me," you holler in the air followed by loud cheers and you know you gotta claim your prize for today's race before the sore losers would ruin your fun with their bitterness. A race is a race, there are no rules, so they cannot even call you out on cheating because technically there's nothing you could have done wrong. And well, everybody would laugh at them if they had to turn to such techniques against a girl.

It took you some time and definitely some nerve and thick skin to earn yourself a reputation and a title but by now, the Busan streets are like your playground and everybody who matters in this scene knows your name. You're the first girl who has ever won the local annual street race after all. Of course, you couldn't have done it alone. If it wasn't for your friends then you would have been nowhere near your current place. A lot of things had lead you to where you are now starting from your long friendship with Jisung who was your classmate in middle school. He introduced you to his friends, Changbin and Chan with whom you hit it off quite quickly. The eldest boy already had an interest in cars then and he was the one who taught you the most about how to pick a vehicle apart and then put it together thanks to his accurate technical knowledge. Changbin has been out on the streets for quite a while too, while Jisung mainly deals with the competitions: he gets the info about them, gathers maps about the routes and handles the prize money to make the most out of the cars.

But a bit of celebration never hurts, so you're off to go to your usual favourite place with the nice amount of cash in your hands when somebody steps in front of your and you have to halt your action. Annoyed, you look up at the tall guy in front of you and first, you think he must be one of those racers whom you left behind during the latest race. However, you are quite surprised when you see an unfamiliar face.

Busan might be a big city but the street racing scene isn't so big that you wouldn't know your competitors. It actually makes your job even easier because every driver has their signature type of driving and knowing them enables you to use this knowledge against them without them knowing.

"Impressive race," the stranger comments with a twitch in the corner of his mouth and you're once again taken aback but this time, it's because of the depth of his voice. He spoke up quietly but the deep rumbling resonated through the area.

"Thanks," you hum, not knowing why he has to stand in your way but at least, the guy doesn't waste your time and goes straight to the point:

"I can beat you, though," he claims confidently and he had some guts, you have to give him that but you laugh at his claim nevertheless. Not because you are that full of yourself that you think nobody can be better than you but taken the current circumstances it seems highly unlikely since you know the route well and newbie amateurs aren't competitors to you anyway.

"Ooooh do we have a Seoul boy here?" you raise a brow checking him out from head to toe not too impressed. He has slick, perfectly styled silver hair, showing off his undercut and dangling silver ear piercings. His facial features are defined by his high cheekbones, well-defined eyebrows and jaw as sharp as a knife. His dark eyes are like the night filled with fierce passion instead of stars.

Everybody can tell easily that he didn't belong here. It isn't just the expensive watch on his wrist or his weird dialect but the way he carries himself. There's some arrogance in it, as if he had some kind of privilege over countryside folks like you. But pity for him, whoever treats him as if he was a little prince, nobody here cares. He could have been the son of the president and nobody would have given a shit about his family background. On the Streets, nothing else matters just raw talent and what you have built for yourself. He couldn't just walk in him acting like he owned the place. That's very far from the truth and you take it upon yourself, enlightening him.

"You don't know how things work around here, do you? You can't just challenge someone like that," you tell him firmly and the crowd around you provides the sounds effects, gasping as if the guy just got burnt. He, however, doesn't seem too bothered. He merely raises an eyebrow back at you.

"Why? Are you afraid?" he mocks you, deep voice reminding you of deep waters. You wonder briefly whether it is possible to drown in a voice.

"Of course not," you snort since that's a ridiculous guess. Why would you have been afraid? Statistically he has like 1 to 100 chance to win against you. Busan is a maze made of beach strolls, mountain roads and tricky underpasses. Unlike him, you know these all too well, not used to the straight and wide roads of the capital city. "But I don't have to explain myself to someone who don't know or respect our rules. Educate yourself first."

You don't do it on purpose but the crowd around you seems to enjoy your remarks. However, the guy doesn't seem to take it to heart.

"Oh I know you have this open popup competition thing going on," he shrugs nonchalantly speaking so ignorantly talking about how your races are held that it rubs you off the wrong way. Doesn't he get that randomly getting notified of where and when the races are held meant that you have to be ready all the time?

" I was just wondering whether you were up for an off-competition race. Think of it like a challenge. I will be here same time tomorrow," he said and flashed you a smirk before turning on his heels and leaving the scenes while being watched by numerous baffled eyes including yours.

"So… drinks?" Jisung broke the silence with his hopeful question and everybody seemed to share the sentiment.

Originally, you didn’t want to care about arrogant guys’ any random challenge because you knew that if you agreed to one, then more would come after him and each of them would call you a coward if you turned any down. However, as Changbin reminded you that stranger boy with his ridiculous undercut called you out in front of a crowd, letting everyone know about the time and place, so you could be pretty sure there would be quite an audience there later that day with or even without you. You hated to give in like that, but you pretty much have no choice but to go there and teach that brat a lesson. That things weren’t played like this on your streets.

"Yah yah yah, guys! You won't believe this!" Jisung runs to the garage where you're currently trying to start the engine when Chan, the one working on the gears, tells you, too. Jisung looks dishevelled and a bit panicked, so it should be something important. Keyword is should because he tends to act so dramatic even because of stuff like a slightly burnt toast.

"What?" you turn towards him, having the urge to ruffle his already messy hair. Since you have a pretty casual brother-sister-like relationship with each guy on your team, it wouldn’t be something weird or out of line. However, you stay in place and turn the keys as Chan taps on the car hood, getting the engine finally fumbling under his handyman hands.

"The guy, you know, from yesterday… I found out who he is!" Jisung tells you all too proudly but he seems to jittery over such information. You guessed he must be a nobody from Seoul thinking car races on the streets of Busan are similar to the ones he had back at home, you even played with the idea, he only knew stuff like a wheel and gears from arcade games. However, when you shoot an uninterested look at Jisung, he whips out his phone and shoves a website into your face with the guy's unimpressed face on it.

He looks somewhat younger in the picture and his hair is wavy blonde instead of the short-cut silver like now but it really is him. That arrogant look in his eyes rubs you off the wrong way just by looking at his image with the description calling him Felix Lee.

"He's a legit car racer! The youngest one in the Australian national team!" Jisung basically shouts and your attention drifts to the headline of the article claiming that the boy abruptly moved to Korea.

Maybe you should be intimidated but you just snort. He acted so almighty just because he used to play with those super expensive toy cars within the set route of an arena? Hah, he would fail badly on the roads, especially if he isn't used to being done dirty by other racers. It wasn't some Formula 1 here, you have no such rules.

"And? I can still beat his ass," you claimed confidently, knowing your skills. Winning against a newbie in street racing would be easy as a pie.

"Still, keep it in mind that he isn't as clueless as we thought. He knows cars and is probably good under pressure," Chan a.k.a the voice of reason reminded you. You know that it's important to not underestimate your enemy but you're too annoyed by this prick and his arrogant attitude.

"Sure, but we know that area better than anyone. I have raced there multiple times, I know the shortcuts and the dangerous turns. There's no way he could do better on first try," you claim fairly sure of yourself and you glance at the time, seeing you have a few more hours until you have to be there, at the bay, behind that warehouse with Hyundai written on its side.

"Don't be like that, guys, no need to get stressed, she will show him how it's done in Busan. He'll get the authentic taste of losing," Changbin speaks up waking from his nap and you grin at him, giving him a high five in gratitude for his support. You know that the others worry for your sake too but you don't need that, there's nothing to be anxious about.

Or so you thought.

You start to get second thoughts when arriving to the venue you see Lee I Think I'm The Best Felix's car. A beautiful white Toyota Supra 2020. The paint on the sides seems brand new, the red strikes powerful and the smoke effect makes it aesthetic. But too bad, pretty cars are worth nothing if the engine is cheap and weak. But the thing is, you know this car. Or at least the type and you have been meaning to get your hands on one for literal years! It's just super rare and hella expensive. All your savings from competitions wouldn't be enough to get one. And now you're not only annoyed by the guy's behaviour but also envious of him. Huh, such a showoff though. Or rather a coward, you would like to think. Coming to race against you with a car that's being said to have one of the best acceleration speed. Compared to that, your baby is a veteran Nissan, having been used years and fixed up by Chan numerous times. But it's still running on high speed and you're familiar with every little thing, how to drift or how to use your nitro smartly, because of course, you have upgraded it over the years, even hand painted the 4RACHA sign onto its side.

"So… you came," the guy pushes himself away from his car, arms crossed against his chest and you don't like his content, bright smile. He seems genuinely glad to see you and seeing how much the crowd fawns over his fancy car, you're sure he came here to show off.

"Can't have you think you can just walk into Busan so mighty," you roll your eyes, adding internally: can't have him think you were a coward.

"Well, you can show me my place then," he chuckles all too amused and you press your lips together disapproving. You don't like how relaxed he is. As if he's already won regardless the result of the race.

"Hey guys, I'm gonna let you know about today's race to keep it fair and unbiased," atall, blonde haired guy from the Streets community walked up to you. Hyunjin is one of the organizers of the weekly and annual events too. They decide the routes, the prizes, the time and they invite everyone involved. They are pretty much the center of the Busan street race competition.

"I will be the one drawing the flag, you will receive the GPS coordinate you have to reach, there's no advised route. We will monitor where you are and see if you reach the point. The first one who makes it back will be the winner. Is it clear?" he asks looking from the new guy to you and when your eyes meet, you see his mouth turn slightly upward.

His smile has gotten you into trouble before and stupidly you still feel that nostalgic fondness towards your ex-boyfriend. It's been a while since you broke up due to the rumours that him giving out info helped you win so many races but you still care about him to a certain extent. You would have liked to stay friends but in this competitive world it's better not to keep too close attachments between organizers and racer. Too many people badmouth those.

"Sure thing," the newbie grins and you just nod. You have already known this after all.

"Alright, then get ready," Hyunjin tells you, a wavy blonde lock falling ahead into his eyes from his manbun.

You shot one last look at the silver-haired guy and his shining dark orbs before turning on your heels you sit back into your car after receiving encouragement from your friends and some regular viewers.

Sitting behind the wheels you already see the red dot lighting up on your integrated GPS map and already know you will go along the shore to go there instead of across the town. Less distractions and obstacles.

Once Hyunjin and some others you know through the races send the crowd a bit farther, giving the two lined up cars enough space around the starting line. Your ex takes the black flag and white you use for such purposes and stands in front of you, between the black Nissan and the white Toyota. You start your engine, running it, warming it up while he waves the flag above his head. You hear the counting down, the echoes in the back of your mind and when Hyunjin suddenly brings the sign down, you step on the gas, car shooting ahead next to the guy's.

He speeds up quickly too, even getting a meter or two ahead of your car and when you reach a one small alley between two containers, you have no other choice but to step on the break to get behind him and not run into that metal monstrum. But you grin nevertheless because this way, you can watch him take a right turn going into the suburbs not knowing about the tricky little streets and the business of that area around these hours. On the other hand, you take the empty road alongside the beach, going at a high speed already.

It makes you slightly anxious that you don’t see him and don’t know how he’s keeping up but then Changbin basically screams into your earpiece you usually wear during races in case you can get insights from the guys.

“You gotta speed up, honey, because that kid is crazy. He’s going at a breakneck speed even in traffic,” he tells you sounding astonished himself while monitoring the GPS signals of the two cars.

“What the hell,” you murmur under your nose and step on the gas even more, paying extra attention at that 90° turn at the end of the road before you’d end up in the sea. You cannot lose to that arrogant bastard, you tell yourself and pass by a few cars as you got into the port area driving towards the assigned point.

Your Nissan Silvia slides out to the main road just before the white Toyota and your grit your teeth that he’s so freaking close to you. The two of you race towards the crossroad that seems to be the point that the organizers appointed as your first goal. However, going ahead is too big of a detour, so you know that you have the best chance to take a U-turn which is kind of crazy at the speed you’re going. But good for you, your car was basically made for drifting and you’re pretty good at taking well-aimed sharp turns.

So just before reaching the crossroad you keep accelerating, only to take your footing off the gas and you pull the handbrake in when you hear the GPS exclaim that ‘You’ve reached your destination’. The sudden stop makes the back wheels lose grip and you feel the force weight shift, the seatbelt keeping your body still despite the car’s yanking and when you see the road you’ve just taken now you let go off the brakes, stepping onto the gas hard. Leaving nothing but screeching sound and your traces on the concrete behind, you speed up again.

Your heart still beats overdrive when you take a quick look in the rear mirror checking on the guy and you’re quite annoyed to see him not too much behind. He’s keeping up well, you have to admit and you hate that. You’re used to being able to predict the result at this point of a race.

“You’re doing great, just keep that distance between you,” Changbin tries to soothe your nerves, knowing you all too well and you bite your tongue to not make a repost at such a useful advice.

Instead, you take the turn back to the beach but this time, the Australian guy follows you and no matter how hard you try, you can’t get rid of him. The closer you get to the finishing line, the more nervous you get wondering what he’s planning, whether he wants to pull a dirty trick on you but in the end, it’s your car that crosses the line first, his a few meters behind and the most annoying thing is that you aren’t sure he wouldn’t have been able to pass you by if he really tried.

So why? Why did he challenge you only to lose? You just can’t wrap your mind around it.

Maybe that’s why when you walk around with two beers in your hands and you approach him when you spot him in the midst of talking and dancing people at this impromptu party someone’s high quality loudspeakers and the music coming from them causes with the amount of alcohol present.

“Here,” you hold a beer out for him to take. You try to sound nonchalant but you aren’t so sure that you managed to do that based on the look he gives you.

Felix or how the hell he likes to be cold, looks up at you with pure surprise written over his features. He has shred off his black leather jacket since the last time you have seen him get out of his car and in the plain white shirt beneath he looks somewhat softer than before. Or it might be because of his expression as well because there’s nothing arrogant about him as he takes the can from your hand.

“Thanks,” he murmurs in his deep voice although he stares at you so doubtful as if he was expecting for a long scolding or at least a prank pulled on him. You want to laugh at that thought because you really aren’t that scary or intimidating .But okay, maybe you have those deadly glares like Jisung likes to state. (But maybe if he learned not to put your stuff away then you wouldn’t look at him like that.)

You don’t even ask, you just plop down next to the guy, sitting in front of the Toyota and watching the starry night above the Busan beach. He doesn’t ask why you do so when a few hours before you were so keen on proving him wrong and then celebrating with your friends that you indeed did. He doesn’t question you but you can feel his eyes on you even when he speaks up.

“That drift was pretty sick. You almost lost me there for a minute or so.”

He doesn’t say it like ‘wow you are a girl but you can drive’ which would have been kind of offensive but he seems truly impressed by your skills and that feels nice. You being a girl does not limit you in anything and it’s nice to hear others admit it as well. Bad for him, you’re not that good of letting go of your grunge even if it’s that baseless like the one you had against him for being rich show off kid with no talent. Although you would only take back the last part.

“Thanks. You weren’t that bad either, I guess,” you mumble out though and that’s already something from you! Changbin could tell him about it. You’re too competitive to admit something like that so carelessly.

“You guess,” he laughs at that, genuine and carefree. He has a nice laugh. It goes surprisingly high-pitch compared to his deep voice.

He doesn’t seem too stiff or distant, so you decide to break the ice and not beat around the bush. You have always been straightforward in your own way. And maybe that can of beer you have already drowned after the race helps your tongue to get loose too.

“I heard you were a professional car racer. Why did you stop?” you ask, turning your head towards him, eyeing the pretty freckles over his cheeks and the way those silver strands sometimes get into his forehead. The thought of him messy haired and unstyled makes him younger in your eyes, more like his age. As someone who had been competing on the big screen from the age of sixteen. Like Chan said, that must have been quite the pressure and you wonder whether he ever felt so threatened like you did when he challenged you the day before.

“Oh so you did your research…” The boy turns around you, raising an eyebrow with a smug smile tugging on his lips and you want to smack him because of the teasing in his voice.

“I did not! Don’t get ahead of yourself!” You snort instead, rolling your eyes at him. You really did not, but if he doesn’t believe the truth like this, you won’t waste more time trying to convince him otherwise. Then, your comment is followed by silence and for a minute you think that he wouldn’t answer which you would understand. You’re a stranger after all. But in the end he shrugs, but his voice is sad.

“It’s just the typical sad reason. I don’t need your pity,” he says turning his gaze onto the floow, fingers intertwined in front of him and there’s a certain tenseness in his bones and moves.

“Oh I’m the last person who would pity someone who walked into my playground as if he was about to take it over,” you bite there, a bit playfully though and the racer laughs at that again, ruffling his silver locks casually in the meantime.

“My grandmother fell ill and someone has to be there for her, so I came back to Korea. I love being here though and grandma is the sweetest, I just miss racing,” he tells you in the end, words slurring together from the speed he’s talking but you guess he just wanted to get over with it quickly, like tearing off a plaster.

You can tell that he’s being sincere about his words, both about his love and caree towards his ill grandmother and his craving to race again. You can understand that, missing the feeling of the engine starting up under you, radiating through your body, missing the adrenaline and excitement of drifts and jumps, feeling like you're flying. That’s the only thing you’re really good at and you’re so invested that you don’t know what you would do if suddenly it wasn’t in your life. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. Maybe he’s just the same and he called you out only to feel that rush again. That’s why winning didn’t matter to him.

“You can always come and compete here,” so you tell him, letting him know that he’s welcomed to come back, to join the Streets and before he would think you have become sentimental, you gently tap the hood of the Toyota behind you. “It would be a pity to waste the potential of this beautiful car of yours.”

A soft smile appears on the boy’s face that only widens once he comes up with something equally teasing.

“You can drive it if you want,” he offers as if he didn’t care about the millions he spent on this car. He really must have grown up in a rich household.

“So generous,” you snort playfully. Although, if he’s being serious then holy shit, really? It would be a dream to drive such a car.

But the racer just chuckles, not getting offended by your remark. Then, out of blue, he adds: “I’m Felix by the way.”

“I know,” you hum, uninterested. At least you pretended to be seemingly. Once word got around that he came back to Korea, apparently everybody has been talking about him.

“I never caught your name though,” You raise a brow at that. “Everybody calls you on all sorts of nicknames.”

You let out a chuckle at that, it's true though, you're the girl of the Streets. Obviously not the only one but the best racer of them for sure, so the guys here treat you like their sister.

“Well, you can always ask. I’m pretty sure my friends would be happy to tell you,” you sigh, knowing your friends all too well. Sure, they wouldn't give out your contacts to every random stranger but Felix seems harmless. You're pretty sure Jisung would accidentally spill your name anyway.

“Nah. Too easy. I’m considering to ask for another race to earn it,” the silver-haired guy remarks with an elegant raise of his brow and it makes you laugh. He's surprisingly fun to be around if he's willing to go to extremes such as racing to get your name.

“Well, good luck with that,” you snort but without malice this time and clink your can of beer with his for a toast. You barely know him but giving him a chance, you have a good feeling about him with all his giggles. It might be a good start of something new.

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #felix scenarios #felix imagines #lee felix #street racer au #strories

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0lshadyl0 · 5 years

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Hi may I ask for yandere Shoto x fem reader non-con, she's part onryo and thinks she's unattractive.

>sees the word onryo in the ask

> has zero ideas what the hell is that

> do some research time *insert elevator music here too* > understand what onryo mean

> has an existential crisis because this gives a full OC's creation material but doesn't have the time for that because of Christmas /but still creates one for her future villain oc blog/

> surrender and do the request

well, the idea is nice and have a good non-con material but I think that this answer will be kind of different at what you asked since I have to give a more realistic way of what an onryo is and her characteristics

first of all, Onryo is (怨霊, literally "vengeful spirit", sometimes rendered "wrathful spirit") refers to a ghost (yūrei) believed to be capable of causing harm in the world of the living, injuring or killing enemies, or even causing natural disasters to exact vengeance to redress the wrongs it received while alive, then taking their spirits from their dying bodies.

mainly these spirits are feminine, women who were abandoned by their husbands, their husbands were capricious and made them suffer a lot or that on their deathbed their husbands promised not to remarry but breach their promise, they are also distressed women who curse their beautiful Kimonos

now with that explained, let get this jam~

Get you back to me, Yandere Todoroki Shoto x Onryo Reader

warnings: cursing, rape, verbal abuse, death, toxic relationship, cheating, betrayal

word count: 2223

He would have been able to avoid that catastrophic end, if he had only acted before, if he had not respected your wishes, letting you be "happy" with that moron who only caused you unhappiness while cheating on you with whatever woman crossed him, he would not be there crying... at your funeral

You endured his abuses, lies, deceptions and from time to time, knocks from when he arrived drunk to your home, forced your door to insult you, reminding you how horribly ugly you were and that you should be grateful that he fixed his gaze on you, then he was beating you, watering his beer in your bruised face and then going to the neighboring building where he slept with some other girl

But your kind heart did not allow you to recriminate or blame him, even though Shoto insisted that you leave the son of a bitch, after all, you deserved better, you, a sweet woman who with a smile from your lips made the heterochromatic transcend to nirvana and thank all god that he knew for the fact of your existence, you only saw him as a friend, he, who treated you as if you were a queen, you only allowed him to be the one to console you after the mistreatment of the loser who didn't treat you like Todoroki thought you deservedAnd that's how in the bicolor's desperation to show you that he loved more than him, that you deserved more than that fucker, that you should be in his arms and not his; one night he invited you to his apartment, a luxurious pent-house, where he started drinking with you while they talked about worldly subjects

Sometime later, when you were a little past from tipsy, Shoto took advantage of your moment of weakness, in the middle of your crying while you were questioning if you really were so horrible that the love of your life decided to meet your fleshly needs with other women while he only gave you hurtful words along with blows that occasionally left you in the hospitalShoto comforted you by massaging your back while slowly directing you, preventing you from tripping over various furniture on the way to your room, where he laid you in his bed, so that later when all the alcohol went up at the head so that you were almost half unconscious, he proceeded to undress you, then he undressed and made love to you as you had never felt beforeIn your alcoholic state, you thought that the man to whom you gave all your passion without inhibiting yourself, was your beloved who had finally decided to stop fucking with other women to finally surrender entirely to you, perhaps, your relationship with him, at last, was going again for a better way

But you were not aware that those sweet moans and your lascivious expressions full of desire were not seen by the man you thought you were giving yourself, but, on the contrary, it was Shoto who enjoyed you at that moment even though he hated a lot that the name you moaned with such fervor was his damn one, but he let it go through this time, after all, it was he who had you at that moment, fucking in and out of you to finally implanting his seed deep inside your walls The next day, when you woke up, with tremendous headache due to the hangover, you realized your mistake, seeing you wrapped in the arms of the bicolor man, quickly and ignoring both the headache and your best friend who asked you to stay in the bed with him, you said no while looking at him with hate shouting that you would never forgive him, also when I try to approach you, you slapped him "I hate you! I hate you Todoroki Shoto, I trusted you and you took advantage of me" you were angered"Understand Y/n, I have done it for a good reason" he was surprised since he had never seen you so furious"No! I will not listen to you, you have gone out of line with this, I do not want to see you anymore! I want you to disappear from my life!" You yelled at him, which he got shocked and in his chest, a feeling of emptiness was beginning to be generated within it

In a clumsy way, you put on your underwear while a shiver ran through your body, feeling like liquid began to come out of your pussy staining your pantyhose, you knew very well it was and fear seized you for that, because, yesterday was the day most likely for you to get pregnant, something that Shoto also knew since he was the one who remembered about your menstrual cycle since you were quite forgetful about itYou just put on some pants while the feeling of betrayal got into your heart, you had made it very clear to Shoto that you didn't see him that way, you already loved another person and, even so, against your wishes he got you drunk, he fucked you and he came inside of you, by this point you already understood that his intention was to get you pregnant so that you had no choice but to marry himWith tears in your eyes, you put your shirt in a bad way and left the apartment all messy, making it clear to everyone with your image that you had a lot of sex, but that didn't matter to you because you just wanted to get to a pharmacy and buy the morning after pill, take it, go to your house and bathe to remove all evidence of Todoroki in your body, although you saw it complicated with the marks of hickeys on your neck, breasts, and legs

But for your bad luck, just when you left the elevator you saw your boyfriend with another woman, but this was not any other woman, she was your friend, rather, your best childhood friend, the same woman who now she was massaging her body in the chest of your beloved with lust, however, he was very busy looking at you with the deepest disgust that could manifest on a face"I can not believe that someone as disgustingly horrible as you

had the audacity to fool me with anybody out there" he said seeing in the obvious state in which you were, it showed from afar that you had fucked someone"I have more pity for the poor idiot who put his cock inside you, after all, you have always been the ugly of both," said your supposed best friend making fun of you "but this show of betrayal of you, damn bitch, make the things easier for us, no honey? ”she looked at your boyfriend"Consider any shit that we had finished, I already found a prettier bitch than you" said your now ex-boyfriend while giving your now ex-best friend a hard spanking and smiling pleased with himselfEven though you wanted to say something, prevent the relationship from ending, beg for him not to leave you for another woman, you raised your right hand to get the attention of your beloved, but he gave you a look of hate that pushed back your advance for fear of him hitting you right thereWithout more I just watch you as he left with another more beautiful woman, a woman you trusted, you thought she was your friend and in the end, she betrayed you, saw how they kissed inside the elevator while the doors closed and your heart, like your desire to live, broke into a thousand pieces

Feeling as miserable as a person who was abandoned by the person they love the most in the world, terrible pain in your chest took your breath away, arching to try to ask for help you fell to the ground while suffering a heart attackWhen Shoto came out of his shock and dressed half decently to run after you and apologize, in addition to making sure that you didn't clean up or take a pill the day after, thus ensuring your pregnancy and that his plan could end with a successWhen he arrives at the lobby, he contemplates how paramedics tried to give you first aid, there were people between horrified and curious seeing you suffer, Todoroki accompanied the paramedics to take you to the ambulance to quickly go to the hospitalHe was sweating cold, inside Shoto it was a whirlwind of emotions, but mostly there was the terror of whatever happened to you was serious, unfortunately, his fear was confirmed when they arrived at the hospital, you had died from a heart attack, according to the doctor was stress-induced cardiomyopathyYou literally died because the son of a bitch broke your heart, now he had to bury you while he lamented your death and the future he would never have with youBut, much to the surprise of the bicolor, you came back to life, or, rather, you were forced to return to live with your quirk, one that you didn't know you had, after all, you were supposed to be quirkless, but not, you had a quirk, but it would only be activated if you died

Your quirk was Onryo, a skill that allowed you to come back to life to retaliate for all the evils that had been caused to you in the form of a vengeful spirit full of hateThis organization was the legion of the elite, a criminal group approved by law that was responsible for dirty work, of any kind, that the government ordered them to do in exchange for being exonerated of any type of crime they committed in their "time free"This group had been following you for years, since one of its members, who could see the future in the long term, saw your potential to kill in your vengeful spirit formSo they decided that you were as miserable as possible by the time you died, you became a powerful murderous spirit which they would control, they were the ones who killed your parents, they brainwashed your boyfriend's brain to make you psychologically weak until he point that you only wanted to die, either by suicide or other methods, so your brainwashed boyfriend, mistreat you by telling you every day that you were horrible, betraying you with other women, while beating you and making you feel worse than crap, not only that, they also brainwashed your best friend to fall in love with your boyfriend and take it away from you

At your funeral they were there waiting for the few who came to visit you, a few friends to whom the organization did not take importance because they were not very significant to you and the pro-hero Todoroki Shoto, they waited for them to leave to steal your body and resuscitate you, the wait was long since the hero stayed a long time crying your loss, regretting not having forced you to break up with your boyfriend so that you were with himNine hours later, when the squad in charge of stealing your body began to lose faith that the hero left, Shoto finally did, he was called to attend an emergency of a villain attack with a water quirk

With renewed hopes, the five members stole your body successfully, then in one of its many bases your spirit was brought back to life with the help of a necromancer and sealed in a puppet that had the same image of your body, now with your spirit inside the puppet, you seemed as if you had never died, with the small difference that you no longer had the same personality, in you there was only hate, the desire to avenge yourself of all the women who hurt you and you took your revenge, you killed them allIt didn't take long for everyone and, above all, a certain pro hero with half white half red hair to realize your return; Thanks to the legion of the elite that provides you with the information of all the women with whom your ex-boyfriend cheated on you, you went and killed them all, you eliminated all those that you knew that they had hurt you because the truth is, you had no idea that the ones that ruined your life were the same ones that now helped you and that you started to consider them as your new friends, all because they're gentle, supportive and caring with you, and that comfort was very welcomed As soon as Todoroki learned that you were walking again in the world of the living, for the first time he thanked the existence of that organization of legalized mercenaries, after all, they had given him a new opportunity to have you by your side and this time he would not leave, not even if you gave him a negative answer, he was going to have you whenever you want it or not, he would keep you safe and take care of you as he couldn't do it the first time, without wasting time, he began his search to find the legion of the elite and above all to bring you back

................................................................................................

this was so long, why I can’t do short scenarios?

#bnha #bnha scenarios #bnha fic?#this has the posiblity of a second part??#maybe?#todoroki shoto #bnha todoroki #todoroki shoto x reader #yandere #yandere posts #yandere bnha #yandere todoroki #yandere shoto #yandere todoroki shoto #yandere todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #i am bad at romance #shady spicy

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rkchoisan · 4 years

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plot call !

everyone pls plot with me ur so sexy ahaha

hello everyone! quarantine has killed my motivation to make a plot post and i’ve been putting off making one for WEEKS because of the fact that i think i will get my shit together and write out fancy descriptions for the plots i want for san and in reality... that is just not who i am. so anyway, without further ado, i’m listing some basic plot/connection/thread ideas that i’d like san to have below!! so yeah! if u read this all the way thru, thank u and i owe u my life!

1. fwb / hook ups / one night stands (m/f)

san sleeps around... a lot. he has fwbs and hooks up a lot so if ur muse does anything along those lines or u wanna have them do smth like that Accidentally.. let’s do it! we can make it angsty or they can be completely chill friends too. this could even be a past connection and we can establish what their relationship like is now. either way it’ll be fun!

2. bido

san has a pet gecko named bido! he is san’s son and best friend and he loves him a lot. i’m open to any ideas, but the only one i’ve come up w/ myself is san could have a friend petsit, but then that said friend loses his beloved bido. in reality, bido’s probably just chilling on one of san’s shelves bc he got out when no one was looking, but we could do a fun thread where san and said friend panic search through his apartment before they find bido safe and sound in his room.

3. exes (m/f)

san has Commitment Issues. that being said, he probably has his fair share of exes / people he almost dated but it was just messy and heartbreaking and san never pulled through, or their relationship just wasn’t healthy. the most recent he could have an ex or anything along those lines would probably be this past winter or some time around there, but they could be old exes too! they could be on good terms, terrible terms, or anything in between.

4. first (gay) kiss (m)

san realized he liked guys when was quite young, and this plot surrounds him and the boy he first had feelings for that were reciprocated! the only requirements are that your muse should have lived in daegu around 2013 and they should be around the same age (a year or two apart at most). i don’t have many headcanons for this yet, but it will be plot heavy and should be a lot of fun! for a clear backstory on this connection, please read this solo.

other ideas:

a roommate!!!

tiktok friends

friends he parties with (aka they enable each other lmao)

dance/busking friends

friends from sopa

fellow k-arts students

childhood friends (must be from daegu)

enemies / people he hates (bonus points if we come up with a situation where they are forced to interact)

older brother/sister figure

an unrequited crush

gaming buddies

cousin (on his dad’s side)

san’s current connections:

basically if u have a plot with one of these ppl, we can use that as a stepping stone to create our own!

rksohee: san’s cousin (if your muse is a fan of k.arma, we can prob do smth with that)

rkyjun: san’s high school best friend / love interest

so yeah that’s it! apologies for this super long post but i have a lot of muse for san and i want him to interact with a lot more people ;;; if anything on here stands out or you’d just like to brainstorm, feel free to message me or give this post a like <3

#this is a very long post but i tried to come up w as many ideas as i could bc i really want san to have more connections #if u read it all i love u #ooc #rkplotcall

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years

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WhatsApp? Part 18. (Steve Rogers x reader) - ENDING

Description: You’ve never been lucky with guys. You just wanted to catch someone’s eye, to be loved. One day, that’s about to turn completely - with one fake, completely imagined number a guy gave you.

A/N: And that's that. The series is over. It was fun, guys, but don't worry, we'll move on. Also kinda inspired by Turning Page by Sleeping At Last? Because it's just a classic love song. Also, the reader has kinda those beautiful fucking Bella Cullen dress because this dress is just a piece of art.

Warnings: DAT PURE WEDDING FLUFF YOU GUYS. I AM A SENSITIVE MF OKAY?

Word count: 3.7 K

Tagging: @missdictatorme, @songforhema, @mikariell95, @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

Read the rest here: Part One Part Two Part three Part four Part five Part Six Part seven Part eight Part nine Part ten Part eleven Part twelve Part thirteen Part fourteen Part fifteen Part sixteen Part seventeen

If you like to have your readings in order :): H E R E

Sometime after everything settled down in your batshit crazy life again:

A small child made everything in your life change. You thought that you won't be able to survive the labor, you cried, you screamed, you yelled some pretty bad words, almost slapped Steve and almost broken a doctors arm, but in the end, it was worth all of it when a small baby girl in a blanket was put on your chest so you could hold her on your arms. She was so... Small, gentle, warm and smelled so nice. You broke down in tears at that very moment.

Your apartment changed drastically - it wasn't existing anymore. When Sam heard that you're about to extend your family, he moved to your old place so you could both move to Steves in Brooklyn, because he had a spare room there. Bucky moved to Deena's basically and had a sleepover on your couch only when he and Deena had one of their fights.

Both of the boys, plus some Clint, random Scott and the literal GOD Thor helped with remaking that place, repainting those walls and piecing new furniture together while they dismounted the old one. You moved your stuff there - from your cosmetics to your photos. Ans Steve let you hang them all around the place. And just a side note, because you were grumpy and complained about your huge belly, you two even bought a huge-ass bed. Slowly, Steve introduced the very pregnant you to the other Avengers - and boy, you and Natasha became the ultimate sisters in crime.

When Steve had to work or went to the gym, you, her, Deena and Suzie usually met up at your place and played scrabble, read Cosmo or watched romcoms all the time. And when it came to the wedding you were planning on, Natasha was planning literally every step with you. Deena was asserting her ideas too - May and Suzie were only agreeing on everything since both Natasha and Deena were scary like demons from the worst part of hell most of the time.

"I think you're freaking too much about that, May." - You smiled at that lovely lady, looking at her face in the mirror, shoving another daisy into the waves of her hair. - "I love the dress."

"I'm not freaking out even a shitty bit. I just think that the train is too long. That's that." - May said in a playful tone just as you braided another flower into her hair. Your hair was already done, it was braided in a really difficult hairstyle with big, white daisies and some gently toned make-up to make it all come together. You looked like a beautiful fairy from the fairy tales.

"Oh snap, sis is serious, she's cursing. But yeah, I don't wanna get it shortened as well. Y/N can walk with that easily, she is not a pussy, May. And there's no time for shortening at all." - Deena smiled, taking your side, giving you a devilish wink. You simply nodded to prove your point. ¨

Peter was in Steve's room for that matter, but you would use some of his freaking out to make you laugh at that very moment. You were nervous to say at least.

Your heart was like a drum, constantly reminding you that you're in fact very much alive at the moment and that everything is happening so fast.

"I like the train a bit loosed in the back. It makes my feet somehow more gentle. I love those shoes, that flower lace... Jesus, it looks like some shoes for a princess." - You took your own side as well and Suzie looked into the room with a smile. She had her hair loosed and curled and she looked like an angel in her peach-colored dress. That color surprisingly suited every one of them.

"Somebody wants to see you." - Suzie sang and Deena took your place in braiding May's hair.

"If it's Steve, tell him that I'm not coming down. If it's Sam, tell him that any of us is naked and that he should fuck off. If it’s Bucky, we are not out of plums." - You laughed happily, making sure that your velvet ribbon holds tightly on your body. But Peter came into your room with a smile of a shy boy. He held a small girl in his arms, making sure that she is completely safe in his hands. The girl was about to cry her eyes out. She yelled loudly - and you even knew why she was crying.

She was hungry as hell - it would be super weird if she wasn't, she ate in the morning for the last time.

"Hello, my little angels." - You opened your arms for little Maggie and sat on the bed, looking Peter to the eyes.

"You look so... Are you even Y/N?" - He joked, but Deena took him at the back of his neck lightly, giving him a personal escort back to the door and made him leave. Just after that, you took one of your boobs out, letting the small one to having some lunch before everything truly starts.

"See? That's why I didn't want to get dressed. I knew that this lady will be hungry. She's just like her very own father." - Your finger trailed on her cheek as her eyes slowly closed. Even she had something similar to dress on her, in the peachy color just every other bridesmaid.

Yeah. Obviously, the wedding until the labor date wasn't something you two didn't make happen. You were already at month two when you told him, oh, you dummydumdum - and he didn't want to make you do it. He let you take your time.

Even if he wasn't exactly the happiest about you not being married at the time Maggie was born, her and your health were way more important than being a married couple. (Steve had something to say, but you were ready to kick his balls because you were pregnant and the hormones were making you just crazy - he was seriously afraid of you.)

You waited until Maggie was at least three months old, so Peter could take care of her for at least an hour without being afraid he'll hurt her. But Steve didn't care. He was crazy for you to say at least, even more, when you had your big belly and shining eyes.

And he also stayed when you could cry your eyes out, vomit out your stomach, when your feet were swollen and when you called him dipshit just because you were angry with him. Without any clear reason to say at least, your hormones were just getting crazy.

But your pregnancy brought some sweet moments with it, just as when Natasha arranged you a photoshoot in the central park and Tony (YOU WERE FORCED TO CALL HIM TONY EVEN IF YOU FREAKED THE HELL OUT EVERY TIME STEVE SAID JUST “TONY? WHATEVER”.) made some super scary fucking system for your baby to be. Some Clint or who gave you some coupon for your baby to have bow shooting lessons with him. They were hand-drawn as far as your suspicion went, but you just smiled and took it.

Steve's friends were just the weirdest and the loveliest you had ever met - but just as Samuel and Bucky, you loved them as your family soon enough, having a shit ton of photos with them in your family album.

So that why the whole Avengers squad came to your wedding and that was why the paparazzi were going basically crazy because of your wedding. Only Natasha was late, as always when you had a meeting with her. So you knew that there is no reason for being too stressed about the time.

But none of that mattered because as at all weddings, everything was already late. The only one who seemed to be freaking out about the time was Tony (TONY STARK), who thought that there will not be enough time where he can just make a cap appear like a fool at the wedding party. At least that was what you have heard, none of that was confirmed.

Even if everyone was making something extremely serious out of that, it was truly only a small wedding. The most expansive were the dream-like dress, and even those were given to you as a gift from your plum-diet coach and Deena. Heck, that wedding even made it to Forbes on the list of the most important wedding of the last ten years. You were just two places after the Royal family of England.

A comment about Tony Stark’s and Pepper’s relationship was, of course, made in the last paragraph - everyone was bitching about them need to marry already.

Soon, there was the time when you needed to get dressed into those velvet expansive dress and shoes, while May and Suzie were making Maggie a company. You were trembling so much you barely stood on your feet. Of course that Deena had to point that out as soon as she realized it.

“Wow, you sure that you won't have a heart attack on me?” - She giggled silently, supporting you while Natasha, who arrived late, yelled a chaotical FUCK, was all messy and almost forgot her dress, was buttoning up the dress at your back.

“Fuck you.” - You answered sharply. Deena made a surprised face, giggling at your reaction.

“Missy, you're kind of rude today, aren't you? Are you good?” - Deena asked teasingly and this time, May took your side.

“She's nervous, Deena. Let it be, once the ceremony is over, your beloved Y/N will be back.” - May lisped sweetly while making faces at your daughter.

“You're nervous?” - Deena said sweetly, smiling at you with shining eyes. She was more proud than a mother could ever be; she was telling you that she is your mother since she helped you with planning out the very details. - “Come on. You're living together for almost a year and you haven't even argued, you haven't even bickered, or at least literally no-one here had the chance to witness it. You're just the sweetest couple that makes my teeth rotten. You're perfect parents to that small angel. What is a certificate, when you're already happy together?”

“What if this the biggest bullshit of my whole life? What if he's not the Mr. Right? What if we split up?” - You huffed into Deena's face.

“You want to make me laugh?” - Natasha spoke all of a sudden with her firm voice. She was scaring you like hell sometimes, but she was a great chit-chat maker and the lady you wanted to spend the evenings and rainy days next to the fireplace with when Steve was gone on a mission. - “Have you two even see each other? You're like a goddamn puzzle. Hold her tighter.” - Nat commanded to Deena and Deena just smiled into your face, telling you that everything is going to be alright.

“And you should think about that before you two have Margareth, don't you think, honey?” - Deena smiled at you ironically and you nodded, closing your eyes and exhaling slowly in order not to kill your bridesmaids before the wedding itself even begins.

The ceremony? You would've loved to tell stories about walking down the aisle, watching all those happy and crying faces, how your heart almost popped out of your chest... But you really had a blackout. You were so nervous that you barely knew how to walk and how to say yes. All you could recall was that you almost tripped on your high heels and that you stood in front of Steve without breathing for a minute straight while he was telling you his vows.

It made Pepper cry so hard she almost left the room, because she hasn't heard anything sweeter until that day. But you could only hear the tone of his voice, you could only see the color of his eyes. You wanted to scream because of how good he was looking; you never saw anything sexier than Steve Rogers in a tuxedo. Somehow, your brain couldn't still connect shit as you were telling him your vows in a sweet voice. You seemed cool even if you weren't.

A few minutes from that moment, you will be a married woman. You will have a hubby on your own, and your last name will be legally changed to Rogers. But when you held his hands and looked him in the face while you were saying your vows, your brain still didn't make you realize any of that.

You still didn't realize that when you had that ring on and when you walked out of the church covered in rice. You slowly started to realize that you're someone's wife when you changed into a normal pair of jeans and a blouse so you could be comfortable at the reception. You pieced it together when you rode there with Maggie sleeping in a safety car seat and Steve held your hand while his thumb gently played with the ring on your left palm. That was when you started to cry and when the happiness replaced the overall stress you had.

He still had his shirt and tuxedo on - only you were the jackass who told everybody that they will not be wearing that beautiful dress during the whole reception. You only left the shoes, which were stunning as well.

Every guest was already there at the moment you arrived, hand in hand. Every woman who was out there was crying, hugging you and told you how beautiful it was - you could ever see Tony wiping away some tears. First, you let everyone have some good food, so you could spend the whole evening by telling embarrassing stories, drinking and eating even more delicious food. After that, the main program came - all the speeches, photo presentations, and laughs.

All the Avengers basically laid into Steve pretty bad - but it made you cry out of laughter. Tony provided some extremely embarrassing photos, Bucky was telling the stories from the forties, Sam was baing sam and Natasha had a heartwarming and long speech which made everyone sobbing - because nobody knew that she was capable of that in the first place.

Your colleagues made one long video consisting of your group achievements and photos since the very day you first came to that working place. When they were done, you were a crying mess once again. Hugging each one of them to tight that you almost squeezed the air out of their lungs. And Peter had his dorky speech, that poor boy almost didn't speak a sentence without stuttering.

But it was all perfect. So everyone looked at Steve after everyone was done with their speeches, starting his very own. You didn't even know that he prepared one.

"Hi, hello. If you don't know by now, I am the groom, nice to meet you all.” - He joked nervously, standing next to the place you were sitting. Most of the people let out a quiet giggle, just as you did. Clint, who was almost shitfaced alongside Bucky and Thor shot up from his chair, raising his hand in your direction. - “I'm Clint, nice to meet you!”

“When I look back at the two last years of my life, I am grateful for all that time more that I've been ever grateful for anything. I've been a man who lost almost everything you can think of and one day... A damn text appeared on the screen of my phone and I didn't know that on the other side is the woman I will want to marry since the first kiss she gave me.” - Steve smiled at you, smoothing your shoulder, earning a small aw from everyone.

“And... If you ask me - I know. We're taking everything too fast. The first was our beautiful angel, after only four and a half months, the wedding came after the first year, and to be honest, every one of her friends thinks she's crazy about doing everything so fast. And I know that.” - That was Deena's time to yell You bet that we think that! with a peal of soft laughter, her head leaning into Bucky’s shoulder - “And... To be honest, we have a very strange list of approaching those big things in life that everyone dreams of achieving." - Steve told with a glass of champagne in his hand, leaving the other palm to hold yours, while you slowly kissed him in the valley under his thumb, then leaning your chin into that small place. It was a few minutes before nine p.m. and he was already only in his shirt and trousers.

You watched him with adoration and your smile slowly grew bigger and bigger. Even he was ready to make you weep. Again. Around ten p.m., there was a girl supposed to come to look after Maggie and until then, she was just lying in cradle put beside your table and made some sweet baby noises, talking to herself.

"But you know what? As far as she doesn't mind, I don't care. I don't care if she's willing to give me five minutes, five months, five years or her whole life. I'm just happy to have this gorgeous, lovely woman with the most beautiful smile on the whole world by my side." - He leaned down to kiss you and you shook your head as you were crying again. But then you stood up as well, ready to have your own speech.

“Hi. I'm the bride, folks.” - You started the same way. - “And I don't have a single word written down and even if I did, I'm terrible at speeches. But I guess that this is what true love of someone does to you. It encourages you and inspires you beyond your own belief.” - You said, looking at him and him only. - “Because every word they say is making your heart melt, with every touch, they redefine a new paraphrase and their smile means everything to you.” - You said quietly, so drunkards in the back couldn’t hear you for shit. But you didn't care.

“I was and I am just a normal girl from New York, not exactly hit with the men, so anything on this whole planet couldn't prepare me for the privilege of being Mrs. Rogers. When it all started, I couldn't believe that such a guy would want to even have something with someone so normal like me. It took a lot of time, empathy and patience before we were able to stand here as a bride and groom, but as I said, that's what love is about. Redefining your old world, exploring new sides of you and let me say... Your kiss was the first one that made me feel something. I love you.” - You said with a look into his face and all you could see was crying Deena and Natasha holding the tears back, but she couldn't.

“I love you.” - Steve whispered when you kissed him, just as he did at the end of the speech.

After Maggie was picked up by her nanny, and Peter left with the small baby as well to protect her, and because the nanny was seriously hot and in his age, the true party began. Everyone laughed, drank and danced - and let me say, Thor was a pretty wild dancer once he was drunk. You wished for that day to never end, yet after a too short amount of time, there was a deep night and only the last ones were standing on the dance floor, dancing.

Bucky was whispering sweet nothings to smiling Deena and a few of Steve’s friends, a blonde lady named Sharon and a guy you didn't know for shit were just turning in small circles. Sam and Thor were sleeping on one of the tables with loud snoring. You tightened hand around Steve's neck, playing with his hair. You were slightly drunk, you couldn't actually drink and Steve was sober as ever.

“Hi.” - You whispered. After a long day, you finally had the intimacy to talk to each other.

“Hello there.” - He chuckled. At that moment, nothing could make him more happy and contented than holding you in his arms.

“My day was completely insane. How about yours, big guy?” - You laughed quietly. Steve shot a look at Deena making Bucky do a bow.

“It was the best day of my life, and trust me, that is telling a lot about that day.” - Steve answered after a while, stealing a kiss away.

“One false number... And who would have thought that I will be marrying that dork two years after that?” - You smiled and leaned into a tight embrace, enjoying how warm and tight he feels under your touch.

“That dork was hoping that the beautiful woman marries him. Just saying.” - He teased you with a giggle, then he spin you around carefully before hugging you.

“I would appreciate if you showed me how beautiful that woman is, what do you say?” - You whispered wickedly, stealing another kiss with a moan so quiet that no-one around could hear it.

“That would be my pleasure, Mrs. Rogers.”

FIN

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roidesrosette · 5 years

Text

Blood donation? Blood donation.

God bless @narekashi for coming up with this genius name and enabling me to do this, i dont blame you thou i have a lot of fun

Yes, it’s me with another of my (mayhaps) contentless OC, please enjoy while it last– Jkjk, I’ll try to throw more content of her on here instead of Discord next time :’)

BLOOD DONATION: Salvie/Salva/Sal, short for Salvatore

Age: ??? Gender: Salvie doesn’t like to define herself as anything Birthday: 6/24 Height: 160cm Status: Got revived as a vampire

PHYSICAL Appearance: Black hair usually tied in a ponytail, red eyes, sharp teeth, a constant “you dare challenge your god?” mocking expression (but doesn’t have the intention)

Accessories: Poker case set, saber and gun

SOCIAL Affiliation: On her own Occupation: Salvie runs a casino and is involved in a mafia Relationships:

Count: First met him when she was “adopted” by the bunch of vampires. He was offering to give them residence, but they all turned him down. Met him again when she was touring the world alone and made him an acquaintance, they became really good friends after that.

Leonardo: Met him when she was touring in Italy with Count. He kept treating her like a small child (still do), and they would drag each other like how he and Count would. He likes messing up her hair, she likes stepping on him when he’s asleep. Also a pair of good friends.

Arthur: Arthur was interested in Salvie and find her dominating personality challenging, but he knew well enough not to lay a finger on her. You just don’t simply go against someone who could lop off your head and had associations with the mafia. On the other hand thou, they were drinking buddies, and sometimes Salvie would pick up girls with him. They gamble a lot together too.

Dazai: They have an odd relationship. It might be because they’re somehow similar in a way, they know what line not to cross. They just have this weird bond that no one can put a finger to determine what it is.

Isaac: They don’t really talk much, she only knows he really likes apple from what she heard from Dazai, but that’s probably a lie…

Theodorous: God how Salvie loves to tease and sass him. Much like Leo, they would banter every time they met, but Theo always ends up leaving, flustered. He was too young compared to her, maybe a couple more years and his bantering skills might improve. They weren’t really on good terms, especially with how Salvie was involved with Shakespeare and the goddamn mafia, plus how close she and Vincent is.

Vincent: Pure, innocent baby boy. “I’ve only met Vincent for 15 seconds and if anyone hurts him I’ll kill everyone in this room and then myself.” Absolutely adores him and prefers him over Theo. Salvie admires how innocent he was, and that nature of him would always make her worry about him. She will also give him everything he wants or needs, just to see him smile.

Sebastian: When Count first brought him to the world, she was intrigued by the human who managed to charm him. So she would frequently visit just to see how Sebas works… Until he starts digging her information. She knew his passion well and understood that, but she would prefer if Sebas exclude her from his mysterious notebook.

Napoleon: Salvie was very interested in him, being a demi-vampire, but she does not question him about it. If he isn’t willing to say, then she had no reason to pry. Along with Jeanne, the three of them practiced sword fights from time to time. Salvie would always be fascinated by both of their skills. You could say that their relationship is quite well.

Mozart: Salvie does not talk much with Mozart, but lowkey likes his performance. She would always attend a ball or an activity if Mozart is the one playing the piano. Salvie also finds his prickly attitude fun to tease, but would rather see Arthur tease him. They would only exchange words when it comes to music and that’s it.

Jeanne: Aside from sparring with him, Salvie also supplies weapons to him. She doesn’t question why, as that was the nature of her business. She couldn’t refuse too, since business is business, and he was a resident of Count’s, which she promised the dad before that she would sponsor his residents too, because he was a friend of hers.

Shakespeare: Basically (kinda) love at first sight. Both of them were born with chaos in them, and so they attract each other. She did not meet him when he became the first resident of Count, but she did hear about it. She met him in a ball. It’s a long ass story how they get together but yeah, these two dumbasses are doing fine and dandy as a couple, have their banters and bickers sometimes but all is well. Unless….?

Paired with: William Shakespeare (Maybe…?)

PERSONALITY

Likes: Gambling, attending balls (especially masquerade balls), hunting, going off adventures with her beloved horse, sword fight, overly sweet stuff

Dislikes: Following a schedule/orders, getting treated like a feeble maiden/young child, proper meal, proper sleep

Strength: She’s superb at gambling and swinging her sword, mediocre at drinking, she aced in “not giving a shit”

Weakness: Hides her feelings a lot, tends to distance herself from people who know her to a certain degree, can’t sleep in peace ever

Personality: Let’s just start with: Salvie is chaotic. Very chaotic. Even the name “Salvatore” already tells you she spells trouble. She doesn’t like being bound by rules, schedules or anyone’s orders, she’s a free soul who decides every step. However, she isn’t reckless, each action she took is calculated and rationally think through, as she does not wish to take a step she regrets. That careful and meticulous approach made her seem wise–despite how young she looks–mature even. Well, but sometimes Salvie could be bratty too, since “her adorable looks is the biggest fraud” (quoted from Leo). She also has a bold personality, and that results in her sassing the great men fearlessly, yet that doesn’t mean she doesn’t respect them, in fact, it’s the opposite. She looked up to them greatly, as they were awesome enough to get their name engraved in history.

Her biggest charm is definitely her carefree attitude. She’s just, y’know, damn chill. Salvie doesn’t have a care towards anything, therefore her pronouns and attire choices. Although her easy-going characteristics is an appeal, it’s sometimes a flaw as well. It made it difficult to get along with her as the specifics about her is unclear. Since she was so chill with everything, it’s certainly hard to pin down what are her favourites and stuff. Contradictorily, that light-hearted manner doesn’t apply to people. She unintentionally looks after people, even if she doesn’t want to care, she would still unknowingly do something for them, like leaving them a cup of tea on the table every morning.

On the other hand though, kinda like Dazai, Salvie’s breezy and free demeanor makes it hard to grasp her true character, not mentioning the fact that she tends to sweep everything under the rug. She has a way with words that always, somehow, avoid the topic about herself, and that made her mysterious in a way. She was very quiet of her thoughts, especially things on her mind, rarely talking about her problems. She would tend to fend off questions about that with a gentle reassuring smile and a wispy attitude, as she disliked someone poking into her problems (and of course because she didn’t want to seem weak).

HISTORY

Backstory: Salvie was not recorded at any point in history, yet she was revived. She did not know why and did not question so. When she was first revived, she did not remember anything except her name. Dozens of questions were in her mind, yet there was no one to answer her. For what feels like an eternity, she wandered on the streets aimlessly until she met her kind. They were strong, independent, and raised her as if she was a newborn. Well, she was, kinda. The days gradually passed, and she too, came to understand that she had been reborn into a person–no, an immortal with unrestrained freedom, with unlimited time (not really, but you get the idea). As soon as she came to that conclusion, she bid goodbye to her friends, (guardians maybe?) and took a flight to achieve her dreams–to live how she wanted in her previous life.

Family: Salvie doesn’t remember (or rather, it was insignificant to her) her family in her previous life. She only recognized the group of vampires that took her in as her guardians.

Other history: How Salvie was involved in the mafia is… Well, chaotic. She was supposed to be on the tour with Count to Italy, to visit his long lost friend Leonardo, but along the way she somehow stumbled into an illegal gambling den, challenged the don (with very extreme conditions), defeated the don and accidentally become the new don of the mafia. After going through all the messy procedures, the news about a new mafia boss named “Lord Salvatore” quickly spread through Italy. His nature was depicted as cruel and ruthless as he gets anything he wants, and no one stands in his way. Yet what’s weird was that the “Salvatore Family” was rumored to be civilized and noble, as they were ordered that no blood should be drawn unless it was required to. You can imagine the horror on Leo and Count’s face when they heard about this, and the compliments from her guardians.

TRIVIA

Special abilities: None. (Her face as an instrument of deception) Pet(s): A white horse named Vlad. Hobby: When she isn’t gambling or drinking, she will be out doing mafia business or just wandering somewhere else Secret(s): Had a past lover who she later recalled and somehow disliked that shares the same name with her horse (which she then became devastated knowing that she named her horse after her past lover) Habits: When she’s stressed or troubled, she will smoke from a pipe

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp oc #my art #traditional art #ok i did swear ill make a proper profile and full body design for my cradlesona #and then i didnt but i did this instead #but STILL I SWEAR I WILL #AND I PROMISE ILL SHARE CONTENT OF MY OC #**I REALLY PROMISE**#its mostly sketches so i uh usually dont put them out #i swear ill post non sketches-----#blood donation

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