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spockandawe · 3 years ago

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Well, this is interesting! So, in that post yesterday, there was one line that really baffled me, a thing about people brushing off a character as an asshole “because he shows literally zero growth.” I kind of set that aside because it was such a weird non-sequitur, and guessed that it was just someone’s sentences not quite keeping up with their train of thought, which has happened to me many times. Apparently I was wrong! I already spent long enough on that one post, I’m tired of talking about that, but this is new and interesting.

Okay. I kind of wanted to see if I could talk about this purely in terms of abstracts and not characters, but I don’t think it’ll work. It would be frustrating to write and confusing to read. It’s about Jiang Cheng. Right up front: This isn’t about whether or not he’s an abuser. Frankly, I don’t think it’s relevant. This also isn’t about telling people they should like him. I don't care whether anyone else likes him or not. But I do like him, and I am always fascinated by dissecting the reasons that people disagree with me. And the process of Telling Stories is my oldest hyperfixation I remember, which will become relevant in a minute.

I thought I had a good grasp on this one, you know? Jiang Cheng makes it pretty obvious why people would dislike Jiang Cheng. But then the posts I keep stumbling over were making weird points, culminating in that “literally zero growth” line.

So! What happened is that someone wrote up a post about how Jiang Cheng’s character arc isn’t an arc, it’s stagnation. It’s a pretty interesting read, and I broadly agree with the larger point! The points where I would quibble are like... the idea that it’s absolute stagnation, as opposed to very subtle shifts that still make a material difference. But still, cool! The post was also offered up as a reason why OP was uninterested in writing any more Jiang Cheng meta, which I totally get. I’m not tired of him yet, but I definitely understand why someone who isn’t a fan of his would get tired about writing about a character with a very static arc. Okay!

Now, internet forensics are hard. I desperately wish I had more information about this evolution, because I find this stuff fascinating, but I have no good way to find things said in untagged posts, reblogs, or private/external venues. But as far as I can tell, that “literally zero growth” wasn’t just a slip of the tongue, it’s become fashionable for people to say that Jiang Cheng is an abusive asshole (that it’s fucked up to like) because he doesn’t have a character arc.

Asshole? Yes. Abusive? This post still isn’t about that. This is about it being fucked up to like this character because he did bad things and had a static character arc.

At first, that point of view was still deeply confusing to me. But I think I figured out the idea at the core of it, and now I’m only baffled. I’m not super interested in confirming this directly, because the people making the most noise about this have not inspired confidence in their ability to hold a civil conversation and I’m a socially anxious binch, but I think the idea is: ‘This character did Bad Things, and then did not improve himself.’

Which is alarmingly adjacent to that old favorite standard of ‘This piece of fiction is glorifying Bad Thing.’ I haven’t seen anyone accusing mxtx of something something jiang cheng, only the people who read/watched/heard the story and became invested in the Jiang Cheng character, but things kind of add up, you know?

Like I said, I don’t want to arbitrate anyone’s right to like/dislike Jiang Cheng. That’s such a fucking waste of time. But this is fascinating to me, because it’s like..... so obviously new and sudden, with such a clear originating point. I can’t speak to the Chinese fans, obviously, but exiledrebels started translating in... what, 2017? And only now, in 2021, do people start putting forth Jiang Cheng’s flat character arc as a “reason” that he’s bad? I’m not going to argue if he pings you in the abuse place, I’m not a dick. I’m not going to argue if you just dislike his vibes. I’m just over here on my blog and in the tag enjoying myself, feel free to detour around me. But oh my god, it’s so silly to try to tell other people that they shouldn’t like him because he has a static character arc.

I want to talk about stories. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to say, because it’s impossible to make broad, sweeping statements, because there are stories about change, there are stories about lack of change, there are all kinds of media that can be used to tell stories, and standards for how stories are told and what they emphasize vary across cultures and over time. But I think that what I can say is that telling a story requires... compromise. It requires streamlining. Trying to capture all the detail of life would slow down most stories to an unbearable degree. Consider organically telling someone ‘I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich’ versus the computer science exercise of having students describe, step by step, how to make one (spread peanut butter? but you never said you opened the lid)

Hell, I’ve got an example in mdzs itself. The largely-faceless masses of the common people. If someone asks you to think about it critically like, yes, obviously these are people, living their own lives, with their own desires, sometimes suffering and dying in the wake of the novel plot. But does the story give weight to those deaths? Or does it just gloss by? Yes, it references their suffering occasionally, but it is not the focus, and it would slow the story unbearably to give equal weight to each dead person mentioned.

Does Wei Wuxian’s massacre get given the same slow, careful consideration as Su She’s, or Jin Guangyao’s? No, because taking the time to weigh our protagonist with ‘well, this one was a mother, and her youngest son had just started walking, but now he’s going to grow up without remembering her face. that one only became an adult a few months ago, he still hasn’t been on many night-hunts yet, but he finds it so rewarding to protect the common people. oh, and this one had just gotten engaged, but don’t worry, his fiancee won’t mourn him, because she died here as well.’ And continuing on that way to some large number under 3000? No! Unless your goal is to make the reader feel bad for cheering for a morally grey hero, that would be a bad authorial decision! The book doesn’t ignore the issue, it comes up, Wei Wuxian gets called out about all the deaths he’s responsible for, but that’s not the same as them being given equal emotional weight to one (1) secondary character, and I don’t love this new thing where people are pretending that’s equivalent.

When Wei Wuxian brutally kills every person at the Wen supervisory office, are you like ‘holy shit... so many grieving families D:’ or are you somewhere between vindicated satisfaction and an ‘ooh, yikes’ wince? Odds are good you’re somewhere in the satisfaction/wince camp, because that’s what the story sets you up to feel, because the story has to emphasize its priorities (priorities vary, but ‘plot’ and ‘protagonist’ are common ones, especially for a casual novel read like this)

Now, characters. If you want to write a story with a sweeping, epic scale, or if you want to tightly constrain the number of people your story is about, I guess it’s possible to give everyone involved a meaningful character arc. Now.... is it always necessary? Is it always possible? Does it always make sense? No, of course not. If you want to do that, you have to devote real estate to it, and depending on the story you want to tell, it could very possibly be a distraction from your main point, like the idea of mxtx tenderly eulogizing every single character who dies even incidentally. Lan Qiren doesn’t get a loving examination of his feelings re: his nephews and wei wuxian and political turnover in the cultivation world because it’s not relevant, and also, because his position is pretty static until right near the end of the story. Lan Xichen is arguably one of the most static characters within the book, he seems like the same nice young between Gusu and the present, right up until... just before the end of the story.

You may see where I’m heading with this.

Like, just imagine trying to demand that every important character needs to go through a major life change before the end of your book or else it didn’t count. This just in, Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg go through multiple novels without experiencing radical shifts in who they are, stop liking them immediately. I do get that the idea is that Jiang Cheng was a ~bad person~ who didn’t change, but asdgfsd I thought we were over the handwringing over people being allowed to like ““bad”” fictional characters. The man isn’t even a canonical serial killer, he’s not my most problematic fave even within this novel.

And here is where it’s a little more relevant that I would quibble with that original post about Jiang Cheng’s arc. He’s consistently a mean girl, but he goes from stressed, sharp-edged teenager, to grief-stricken, almost-destroyed teen, to grim, cold young adult (and then detours into grim, cold, and grief-stricken until grief dulls with time). He does become an attentive uncle tho. He..... doesn’t experience a radical change in his sense of self, which... it’s...... not all that strange for an adult. And bam, then he DOES experience a radical change, but the needs of the plot dictate that it’s right near the end. And he’s not the focus of the story, baby, wangxian is. He has the last few lines of the story, which nicely communicate his changes to me, but also asdfafas we’re out of story. He was never the main character, it’s not surprising we don’t linger! The extras aren’t beholden to the needs of plot, but they’re also about whatever mxtx wanted to write, and I guess she didn’t feel like writing about Jiang Cheng ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But also. Taking a step backward. Stable characters can fill a perfectly logical place in a story. Like, look at Leia Organa. I’m not saying she has no arc, but I am saying that she’s a solid point of reference as Luke is becoming a jedi and Han is adjusting his perspective. I wouldn’t call her stagnant, the vibes are wrong, but she also isn’t miserable in her sadness swamp, the way Jiang Cheng is.

Or, hell, look at tgcf. The stagnant, frozen nature of the big bad is a central feature of the story. The bwx of now is the bwx of 800 years ago is the bwx of 1500+ years ago. This is not the place for a meta on how that was bad for those around him and for him himself, but I have Thoughts about how being defeated at the end is both a thing that hurts him and relieves him. Mei Nianqing is a sympathetic character who’s also pretty darn static. Does Ling Wen have a character arc, or do we just learn more about who she already is and what her priorities always were? I’m going to cut myself off here, but a character’s delta between the beginning of a story and the end of a story is a reasonable way to judge how interesting writing character meta is, and is a very silly metric to judge their worth, and even if I guessed at what the basic logic is, for this character, I am still baffled that it’s being put forth as a real talking point.

(also, has it jumped ship to any other characters yet? have people started applying it in other fandoms as well? please let me know if this is the case, I am wildly curious)

(no, but really, if anyone is arguing that bwx is gross specifically because he had centuries to self-reflect and didn’t fix himself, i am desperate to know)

And finally. The thing I thought was most self-evident. Did I post about this sometime recently? If a non-central character experiences a life-altering paradigm shift right near the end of the story (without it being lingered over, because non-central character), oh my god. As a fic writer? IT’S FREE REAL ESTATE. This is the most fertile possible ground. If I want to write post-canon canon-compliant material, adsgasfasd that’s where I’m going to be looking. Okay, yeah, the main couple is happy, that’s good. Who isn’t happy, and what can I do about that? Happy families are all alike, while every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way, etc.

It’s not everyone’s favorite playground, but come on, these are not uncommon feelings. And frankly, it’s starting to feel a little disingenuous when people act like fan authors pick out the most blameless angel from the cast and lavish good things upon them. I’m not the only one who goes looking for a good dumpster fire and says I Live Here Now. If I write post-canon tgcf fic, it’s very likely to focus on beef and/or leaf. I have written more than one au focusing on tianlang-jun.

And, hilariously. If the problem with Jiang Cheng. Is that he is a toxic man fictional character who failed to grow on his own, and is either unsafe or unhealthy to be around. If the problem is that he did not experience a character arc. If these people would be totally fine with other people liking him, if he improved himself as a person. And then, if authors want to put in the (free! time-consuming!) work of writing that character development themselves. You would think that they would be lauded for putting the character through healthier sorts of personal growth than he experienced in canon. Instead, I am still here writing this because first, I was bothered by these authors being named as “freaks” who are obsessed with their ‘uwu precious tsundere baby’ with a “love language of violence,” and then I was graciously informed that people hate Jiang Cheng because he experiences no character growth.

#jiang cheng #mdzs #the untamed #disk horse #long post/#abuse/#only tangentially #but better safe than sorry i hope

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evanescentjasmine · 4 years ago

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I’m going to talk about a little pet peeve of mine with regard to portrayal of poc in fic, TMA specifically since that’s what I mostly read and write for.

I suppose I should first start by saying that, of course, poc are not a monolith, and I’m certain there are other poc who have many different views on this issue. And also this post is in no way meant to demonise, shame, or otherwise discourage people from writing poc in fic if they’re doing something differently. This is just a thing I’ve been noodling on for a while and have had several interesting conversations with friends about, and now that I think I’ve figured out why I have this pet peeve, I figured I’d gather my thoughts into a post.

As a result of the fact we have no canonical racial, ethnic, or religious backgrounds for our main TMA cast, we’ve ended up with many diverse headcanons, and it’s absolutely lovely to see. I’m all for more diversity and I’m always delighted to see people’s headcanons.

However, what often happens is I’ll be reading a fic and plodding along in a character’s PoV and get mention of their skin colour. And nothing else. I find this, personally, extremely jarring. In a short one-shot it makes sense, because you’re usually touching on one scenario and then dipping out. Likewise if the fic is in a different setting, is cracky, or is told from someone else’s PoV, that’s all fine. But if I’m reading a serious long-fic close in the poc’s head and...nothing? That’s just bizarre to me.

Your heritage, culture, religion, and background, all of those affect how you view the world, and how the world views you in return. How people treat you, how you carry yourself, what you’re conscious of, all of that shifts. And the weird thing is that many writers are aware of this when it comes to characters being ace or trans or neurodivergent—and I’m genuinely pleased by that, don’t get me wrong. Nothing has made my ace self happier than the casual aceness in TMA fics that often resonates so well with my experience. But just as gender, orientation, and neurodivergence change how a character interacts with their world, so do race, ethnicity, and religion.

As a child, I spent a couple of years in England while my mother was getting her degree. Though I started using Arabic less and less, my mother still spoke to me almost exclusively in Arabic at home. We still ate romy cheese and molokhia and the right kind of rice, though we missed out on other things. She managed to get an Egyptian channel on TV somehow, which means I still grew up with different cultural touchstones and make pop-culture references that I can’t share with my non-Arabic-speaking friends. She also became friends with just about every Egyptian in her university, so for those years I had a bevy of unrelated Uncles and Aunties from cities all over Egypt, banding together to go on outings or celebrate our holidays.

As an adult who sometimes travels abroad solo, and as a fair-skinned Arab who’s fluent in English, usually in a Western country the most I’ll get is puzzled people trying to parse my accent and convinced someone in my family came from somewhere. When they hear my name, though, that shifts. I get things like surprise, passive-aggressive digs at my home region, weird questions, insistence I don’t look Egyptian (which, what does that even mean?) or the ever-popular, ever-irritating: Oh, your English is so good!

At airports, with my Egyptian passport, it’s less benign. I am very commonly taken aside for extra security, all of which I expect and am prepared for, and which always confuses foreign friends who insisted beforehand that surely they wouldn’t pull me aside. Unspoken is the fact I, y’know, don’t look like what they imagine a terrorist would. But I’m Arab and that’s how it goes, despite my, er, more “Western” leaning presentation.

This would be an entirely different story if I were hijabi, or had darker skin, or a more pronounced accent. I am aware I’m absolutely awash with privilege. Likewise, it would be different if I had a non-Arab name and passport.

So it’s slightly baffling to me as to why a Jon who is Pakistani or Indian or Arab and/or Black British would go through life the exact same way a white British character would.

Now, I understand that race and ethnicity can be very fraught, and that many writers don’t want to step on toes or get things wrong or feel it isn’t their place to explore these things, and certainly I don’t think it’s a person’s place to explore The Struggles of X Background unless they also share said background. I’m not saying a fic should portray racism and microaggressions either (and if they do, please take care and tag them appropriately), but that past experiences of them would affect a character. A fic doesn’t have to be about the Arab Experience With Racism (™) to mention that, say, an Arab Jon headed to the airport in S3 for his world tour would have been very conscious to be as put together as he could, given the circumstances, and have all his things in order.

And there’s so much more to us besides. What stories did your character grow up with? What language was spoken at home? Do they also speak it? If not, how do they feel about that? What are their comfort foods? Their family traditions? The things they do without thinking? The obscure pop-culture opinions they can’t even begin to explain? (Ask me about the crossover between Egyptian political comedy and cosmic horror sometime…)

I’m not saying you’ll always get it right. Hell, I’m not saying I always get it right either. I’m sure someone can read one of my fics and be like, “nope, this isn’t true to me!” And that’s okay. The important thing, for me, is trying.

Because here’s the thing.

I want you to imagine reading a fic where I, a born and raised Egyptian, wrote white characters in, say, a suburb in the US as though they shared my personal experiences. It’s a multi-generational household, people of the same gender greet with a kiss on each cheek, lunch is the main meal, adults only move out when they get married, every older person they meet is Auntie or Uncle, every bathroom has a bidet, there’s a backdrop of Muslim assumptions and views of morality, and the characters discuss their Eid plans because, well, everyone celebrates Eid, obviously.

Weird, right?

So why is this normal the other way around?

Have you ever stopped to wonder why white (and often, especially American) experiences are considered the default? The universal inoffensive base on which the rest is built?

Yes, I understand that writers are trying to be inoffensive and respectful of other backgrounds. But actually, I find the usual method of having the only difference be their skin colour or features pretty reductive. We’re more than just a paint job or a sprinkle of flavour to add on top of the default. Many of us have fundamentally different life experiences and ignoring this contributes to that assumption of your experience being universal.

Yes, fic is supposed to be for fun and maybe you don’t want to have to think about all this, and I get that completely. I have all the respect in the world for writers who tag their TMA fics as an American AU, or who don’t mention anyone’s races. I get it. But when you have characters without a canonical race and you give them one, you’re making a decision, and I want you to think about it.

Yes, this is a lot of research, but the internet is full of people talking about themselves and their experiences. Read their articles, read their blogs, read their twitter threads, watch their videos, see what they have to say and use it as a jumping-off point. I’m really fond of the Writing With Color blog, so if you’re not sure where to start I’d recommend giving them a look.

Because writers outside of the Anglosphere already do this research in order to write in most fandoms. Writers of colour already put themselves in your shoes to write white characters. And frankly, given the amount of care that many white writers put into researching Britishisms, I don’t see why this can’t extend to other cultural differences as well.

#the magnus archives #tma #poc in fanfic #representation #tw racism #long post

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loupettes · 3 years ago

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I needed a little break from writing doomsday, and this came out today instead. I hope you enjoy some Nine/Rose fluff!

H I R A E T H

SUMMARY: Nine/Rose. After leaving the Doctor alone in his grief, Rose is still upset over what happened that day he left her and Mickey on that spaceship for Reinette. She goes to find him and confront him and her feelings, but runs into somebody she could never have imagined to instead.

TAGS: fluff, hurt//comfort, romance, missing scene

Read on AO3: hiraeth

***

They sat, Rose and Mickey, at the table in the kitchen, both sipping their tea now in silence. The tour of the TARDIS had been short to say the least, mostly because she couldn’t really focus on much else other than the love of her life having fallen in love with somebody else within the space of half a day, maximum.

She shuddered, and scrunched her nose to finish the last of her tea. Well, not the last; she still had a fair bit left, but it had gone cold and just tasted a bit like sewage water at that point, so she didn’t particularly see the appeal in spending any longer pretending it was still a decent cup of tea.

Funny, she thought. My life now resembles a cup of tea.

***

Funny, she thought. My life now resembles a cup of tea.

She managed to not raise suspicion from the man opposite her when she sighed, but when her cup hit the table a little more forcibly than she had intended, Mickey raised his eyebrow.

“Take it it’s still not a good time to ask?”

Rose threw him a glare; she was still quite irritated by his smug-but-trying-to-hide-it expression. “No, it isn’t.”

His brow pinched, and for a moment he looked sorry for her. Not in a pitiful way, but in a... sorry kind of way — except, he wasn’t the one who should be sorry. He opened his mouth to say something, then decided against it.

“M’ gonna go for a walk,” she mumbled, the chair grazing loudly across the floor as she forced herself to her feet.

Mickey again looked as though he might say something, but again, thought better of it. But Rose was just irritated enough to ask,

“What?”

“Just… don’t go looking for him, okay?” he tried. “Give the man some space.”

Rose grunted. “He can have all the bloody space he wants.”

And with that, she left the kitchen. She was exhausted to recognise her feet were, unsurprisingly, steering her towards the control room, and she could feel with every step how regretful she was about to be if she reached that room. So she pulled every last piece of willpower she had left to stop in her tracks and think.

Should she go and talk to him? She folded her arms and chewed the inside of her cheek in deliberation. She was torn, because she wanted so desperately to talk to him — her friend above all else after all — but he had so horribly hurt her today that she was in half a mind to storm out of this TARDIS for good. She tried, she really did, to feel for him, and she took a step out of her own mind for just one moment to consider he had just lost somebody close to him. Even if her heart was breaking, it was at that thought that they shattered completely.

This was ridiculous, she thought, as her feet once more began to take her to the control room. He quite clearly wanted space, and Mickey only confirmed so much with his Manly Suspicions — seeing you right now isn’t going to make him feel any better.

She grunted, and her steps had a little more purpose to them now. Because it was so horrible to be the last person he wanted to see. He had never, not in their entire time together, been one to regret her presence, to make her feel like she was unwanted even just in a moment of grief.

Calm down, she thought, as she knew she was nearing the control room. The only thing that would make this a thousand times worse is if you burst into the control room in righteous rage.

So, she deliberately slowed down her pace as she wondered just exactly which approach she was going to take. But she found that, the closer she got to the control room, the less control she had over her intentions. So her footing sped up once more, and her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the control room.

She was more than disorientated, then, when the last person she expected to see was now standing in the exact same place as he was when she left him.

“Wha—”

He looked up at her with a frown, a frown she hadn’t seen in oh so many months, and she felt her heart sink to see that daft old, gorgeous, face. For a moment, she forgot that this was completely impossible, being so used to it these days after all, and her breath caught in her throat to see that terribly dusty old leather jacket, those baggy black scruffy trousers that seemed far too big for him and those eyes, good god those eyes were so bloody beautiful that she almost cried there and then to see them once more.

Those eyes that were currently looking back at her in utter bewilderment.

She shook her head and herself back to her senses. The Doctor quickly looked at the door at the end of the ramp and distractedly pointed to it, looking back at her once more in disarray. “What you doin’ there?”

His familiar yet somehow unexpected Northern accent seemed most alerting to her, and sparked the return of her own puzzlement.

“What are you doin’ there?”

“I just— you were— you said—” he stuttered, looking back and forth between her and the door. He seemed to only look to her for an explanation, which baffled her, because she was hoping he would explain. The two stared at each other in complete perplexity for a minute at least, before Rose was first to break the silence.

“This a trick?”

He blinked. “What?”

“This. You, here. The TARDIS trickin’ me or somethin’?”

“Why on Earth would the TARDIS be tricking you?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged, folding her arms and resting her weight on one leg. “‘Cos you were a right knob today and maybe she thought I wouldn’t strangle you if you looked like that.”

He was surely stupefied by the force of her words. “Bloody hell, I saved your life today and that’s how you thank me?”

Her mouth hung agape at that, and she quickly scanned her memories today and confirmed, very quickly, that he had in fact not saved her life at any point today. Not even when he stumbled into her’s and Mickey’s capture, drunk, and toyed with the droids for a bit while they held a rather sharp blade to her throat before pouring whatever was left of his wine onto their heads; she was still too furious to consider that ‘saving her life’.

“Oh, please,” she scoffed incredulously, “Do tell me at what point today you so valiantly came to my aid.”

He echoed her scoff. “I said thank you—”

“You did not you little liar!”

“Bloody hell, you’re a lot snappier than you were five minutes ago!”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t even here five minutes ago—”

“Which reminds me, what are you doing here?”

Her eyes narrowed at him; quite clearly, they were going to go round in circles asking questions unless one of them tried to at least figure it out. She took a deep breath, and spoke aloud her thought process. “Right. So, obviously we’re not talking about the same thing, unless you experienced today completely differently to me — which actually might explain your behaviour—” she stopped when she felt her spine pricking with heat, and shook her head “— never mind. And unless the TARDIS is playing tricks on me, and you’re still, well, you, then we’re not — this isn’t—”

She sighed in frustration, still trying to understand the concept of time being relative — whatever that means. The Doctor seemed only to understand her, and he nodded slowly.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say I didn’t just offer you to come with me, did I?”

Her heart sank; of all the emotions she was feeling, of all the frustration at being in a situation unknown, of having her first reaction to a man she missed with everything she had being bewilderment over the absolute love she normally had to see his face, her only response was to breathe a very unsteady and deeply sorrowful,

“No.”

He nodded, again slowly. “But— and I’m losing my other leg to this one now— I’m assuming you, at one point, in fact, do end up coming with me?"

Her lips pulled tight as she fought back against saying or indicating anything that might trigger some sort of paradox at having run into a previous him and altering their future, and she sort of expected she might spontaneously vanish at any moment. Her lack of response must have affirmed his question, and his eyes grew wide.

“Crikey. Right then.”

“I should—“ she started, pointing behind her to the door but not really able to move there just yet “— I should probably, erm…”

He looked back at her for a moment, his brow still drawn in concern, before he gave her the smallest, yet still most warm smile that simply melted her.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he whispered.

The relief she felt swept over her in a blanket so comforting that her feet all too easily took her to him, and she blurted, “You have no idea how much I needed to hear you say that.”

He grinned the most terribly beautiful toofy grin, but she didn't process in enough time — or care too much to do anything about — the look of slight panic when she practically tumbled into his arms, into a hold so comforting that she let out a small sob. She felt the relief, her whole body lightening and untightening to feel him, less skinny and tall and against the ever so soft fabric of a jumper rather than an oxford. She wished she could have seemed a little less desperate as she clung to him while he awkwardly — but sincerely — held her in return, but just having him there, against everything she understood to be possible, was the only thing she could possibly need right now and she felt alleviated.

“I’m probably breaking about eight hundred laws here but I literally don’t care anymore,” she mumbled, only half-jokingly, into his jumper, “You left me on a spaceship three thousand years into the future so you can fix it.”

“Oi!” he snapped, and she was relieved to hear he wasn’t actually annoyed. “I haven’t done anythin’, remember?”

She nodded. “You’re right, he can fix it.”

The Doctor had always known how to read her, even if she sometimes thought he didn’t. Even after little more than a day of having known her, to this him here now, he recognised her belligerence and only seemed to find it bemusing.

“You’ve got a lot of faith in him then, if you can think he can fix anything.”

She sighed deeply into his jumper, against the sounds of his steady hearts beneath her ear that sounded different somehow, like they weren’t quite hers yet even if they were beating for her now.

“I really miss you.”

The truth in her voice sounded, even to her, so very pained. She wondered what he must be thinking, why this woman whom had only just turned him down now clung to him in the most ridiculous of ways, close to tears as she told him she missed him. But he didn’t ask questions, instead he only felt it, straight away, by the way his arms ever so slightly tightened around her to more resemble a hug she knew was only hers, and one only he could give her. But she could feel him awkward beneath her nonetheless, and ever so regretfully she pulled away, but not quite able to stop herself from reaching her palm to touch the side of his face as she took him in. All those hardened edges, that stubble and those lips and slightly wonky nose.

“Oh, we’re— okay, so there’s an awful lot of touching between us in the future,” he remarked.

She giggled, and drew her palm away to sit on the jumpseat, patting the spot next to her. “Well, yes, I think we can say that—” she frowned, and stopped herself “—wait, can I say that?”

She looked to him for confirmation, and he shrugged. “Tell you what, if you start to fade out of existence, I’ll let you know, as long as you do the same for me. Deal?”

She chuckled, and shook the hand he had held out to her. “Deal.”

He sat down next to her, pinching his trousers and shuffling about to settle in a little more comfortably. She was relieved to know she hadn’t forgotten a single thing about him, which meant that she knew he was feeling most blindsided by her spontaneous and unprecedented visit, displaying a lot more familiarity with him than he, at that moment, had with her. For whatever reason, and she thinks she knows what, he was, for the time being at least, comfortable with putting aside his own reservations about the implications this might have on time and space if it meant that she could find comfort herself.

She gave him a shy grin. “So I turned you down then, hmm?”

“Great,” he tutted. “Nice to know it was me you said no to, and not the flying-through-space bit.”

She nudged herself to the side to bump his shoulder and chuckled. “Well, I’m here now, so you must have done something right.”

“Oh, I don’t know. From the sounds of it, I haven’t done anything right today.”

It was a suggestion, an invitation to continue, if she wanted to.

The sinking of her heart at the reminder of her today was terrible. So terrible, in fact, that she couldn’t find her words, and only shook her head sadly in response. The soft sound of his leather jacket as his chest rose and fell to his sigh somehow made it all that much harder. When he started to awkwardly pick at the stray cotton string poking out at the knee of his trousers, she managed to find her smile.

“Mention the time bit,” she whispered, turning to look at him, and he looked back at her with his eyebrow ever so slightly raised. “That’s what does it for me, in the end.”

He chastised himself, “I didn’t— I didn’t mention the bloody time bit— well, no wonder you said no.”

“You completely messed up with that one,” she chuckled, closing her eyes to the deep and flat way he said ‘wonder’, and continued, “Actually, know what else you messed up with?”

“Wish I hadn’t bloody offered to stay and listen, now—”

“The regeneration thing,” she scoffed. “Didn’t want to mention that that happens at any point, no?”

“Regenerat— bloody hell, I’m being confronted by a lot of my future in one sitting.”

Her eyes widened at that, perhaps having gone too far, but he grinned.

“Na, it’s alright," he assured her in response. "Promise. I’m not so unused to running into myself in the future, I know how this works, don’t worry.”

Her lips curled into a bashful smile, knowing full well he almost certainly knew the consequences of learning of one’s own future and that, in next to no circumstances, was it a good thing. Still, he had this thing about him, this assurance that he would, somehow, make it okay, and she couldn’t deny his invitation.

“You— I mean— well,” she flustered, realising this was much more difficult that she would have thought. “He... yeah, no, you—”

“Say ‘he’,” he encouraged. “It’ll make it easier, promise.”

Again, with that word, with the softness in which he delivered it, she felt this unravelling as her shoulders loosened where she could just be her. She didn’t have to worry about sounding all clever, like she knew what she was talking about, and now she didn’t even need to worry about the implications of something she’s been told can never ever happen, because he was with her. She could barely keep herself together with it all, with how much she just missed him and wanted him back.

“It’s been a bit… it’s been quite hard. Between us, recently,” she admitted unevenly, but once she felt the relief that came with uncorking the ridiculously tight pressure throughout her whole body, she was powerless to stop herself from blurting out the rest. “You regenerated not too long ago and sometimes I think you’re still the same, and sometimes you— he —” she adjusted, it somehow feeling better to say ‘he’, now “— does things that are so… not you.”

There was a silence in the control room, besides the familiar hum which had of course not altered even within this nonsensical situation. It kept her quite steady, actually.

“He sounds a bit like a prat.”

“You’re not wrong, there.”

“Tell you what,” he began, squaring his shoulders. “Since I’m him and he’s me, why don’t you tell me what he did. I’ll see what I can help you with.”

She snorted. “Told me I was gonna — and I quote — ‘wither and die’, left me stranded on a spaceship three thousand years into the future, fell in love with some posh French woman and picked her over all of time and space, to name just the ones over the last twenty-four hours.”

The Doctor was quiet, and she just had to glance at his expression at that. He did indeed look overwhelmed, as she thought he might.

“That definitely doesn’t sound like me — you sure you weren't just fooled into thinking he was?”

She snickered, although he wasn’t too far off her true musings at this point. “I think when you invited Mickey along, I should have clocked on.”

He really did jolt back in shock, then. “Rickey? As in that sad old sap out there, Rickey?”

“Mmm.”

“The one shaking like a bloody leaf and clinging onto your leg like a wuss?”

“That’s the one.”

He shuddered, and it only made her giggle more. “My god, what do I become?”

“Now you see my problem.”

“Alright, well, I can’t excuse the wither and die bit—” he paused, thinking “— nor the spaceship bit, I suppose. Or even the falling in love bit—”

“Fat lot of good, you are, then.”

“Oi! —” he poked her ribs “— You’re a lot less polite than I remember you being.”

Her smile was so wide that it ached; being here with him and laughing like before, before all the regenerations and the Sarah-Janes and the aristocratic French mistresses was a blissful healing of a wound she had long since thought had sealed up.

“I’m going to need some context over the wither and die bit,” he spoke quietly, a little jest still to his voice.

She frowned, honestly quite against the idea of reliving that conversation last night, and especially not when it was one with another, less recognisable, face than with the one next to her. “I dunno. I guess… I know what you—”

“He.”

She giggled, relieved, and he nudged her knee with his. “I know what he was trying to say, that his lifespan is a heck of a lot longer than mine, and it’s not as if it’s fun to watch us ‘wither and die’, as he so eloquently put it, but it still hurt. Almost like—” she scrunched her nose, thinking of what it was she wanted to say before she heard his calm and patient breathing, his breath and remembered who she was talking to “—like it’s so distasteful for him, that we grow old and all mangly and he just has to sit there and watch it and hope it gets over and done with quickly so he can move on.”

The Doctor was still beside her, his arms folded and leant back while she spoke. He seemed to be mulling something over, and when she looked up at him and saw his profile, his terribly large nose and sharp jaw, she all but melted into his side, tugging on his arm so that she could lean against him.

“He made me feel so bad for being human, and it’s the first time I’ve ever felt like that.”

He was trying to keep himself still beside her, and she knew he most probably felt a little uncomfortable at their proximity, but the fact that he was keeping so still for her reminded her just how much he cared for her in the first place — right from day one.

“Christ, give him a slap for me when you see him again will you?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

She thought about the two of them, if they could meet tonight, and only loved the idea of this him squaring up on the new one for daring to hurt a woman he had known less than forty-eight hours. And she grinned to know that he would, as well, because she knew just how important she had been to him right from the start. He didn’t need to say it, and she felt it even now with a new face, that she was still the most important person to him.

Well, up until today, she had.

“Alright, so you say the spaceship thing—“

“Yep,” she affirmed, punctuating the ‘p’ with an indignant pop. “Rode on a horse through a time window, severed all links with the ship and the future.”

“And you say Rickey was with you?”

“Yeah! Left us both behind.”

He thought for a moment. “How’d you know he didn’t think you were on the back of the horse and he was only trying to leave Rickey behind” — she couldn’t help but laugh at his old dry humour that he carried off so effortlessly, something else she only now realised she missed —“cos I can tell you that seems the only reasonable explanation to that one.”

“God will you stop,” she insisted through her giggles, “Rick—Mickey is not that bad!”

“And on that,” he continued, seemingly unwilling to stop despite her persistent chuckles, “I really cannot explain his decisions behind asking Mickey to join us, you’ll have to ask him yourself, sorry.”

He had such a wonderfully deadpan humour, this one, and for a bloke that wasn’t actually from the North, he certainly could have fooled her. To some, he came off as cold and unaffectionate, but to her, he was hers; she knew his humour so well and had grown so fond of him and the ways in which he made her laugh, knowing that he was doing it deliberately as often as he could only to make her giggle more.

“Alright, and what was that last one?” he asked after a moment. “Something about some French woman?”

Ah, yes. That.

Perhaps he knew exactly what by the way she flinched at his words, because he didn’t follow it up with anything at first. He chose his words well, it would seem, when he prompted,

“Something absurd about choosing her over all of time and space, if I remember you right.”

She fiddled with cuticles around her nails, only realising now how hard it was to talk about — or even think about.

“Something like that.”

And with her sigh, she released her hold on him, withdrawing back into herself at the way everything about her seemed to clench in pain. He wasn’t too unused to it all, then, when she felt his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She smiled softly at the gesture that did indeed loosen her a little, but he seemed to notice that it hadn’t entirely when he tapped her shoulder to bring her to lean back against him.

“Well, I will admit this new bloke seems like an absolute git, but I know I can speak for him when I say he doesn’t fall in love very easily at all.”

She swallowed, her throat so painfully tight. “Yeah, m’ starting to think the same.”

He was quiet, and she was really fighting against herself to not fall completely back in love with a man she knew was gone forever. She did love him though, this him, and she missed him so much that the pressure inside her only seemed to worsen until, finally, he spoke quietly,

“Who was she, did you say?”

She didn’t want to respond immediately, though the name rested just at the tip of her tongue, echoing around her mind as it had been all day. So she took a moment's pause before she replied, “Someone called Madame de Pompadour?”

“Ah, yes,” he recalled. “Eighteenth century? Uncrowned queen of France?”

Rose sighed heavily, before nodding her head.

“Sounds average,” he dismissed. “Meet one of them every day, I do. Don’t think it’s quite like either of us to fall in love with somebody so ordinary.”

She had to remind herself, as she had done so many times over the last twenty-four hours, that she was indeed only that: ordinary. Nobody different, nothing that made her stand out from the likes of Sarah Jane or bloody uncrowned queens of France and certainly not one the Doctor, the last remaining lord of time, would so easily fall in love with.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, a welcome disruption to her morose thoughts. “I should probably, er, go and find, well, you— time, was it, you said? That’s what’ll do the trick?”

She sniffed, reluctant to let him go, but she did loosen her hold to allow him free. “Time,” she affirmed.

As he stood, and she too, it all felt far too formulaic for them, even if he had only just met her very recently. She couldn’t bear to let him go like this, to remember this meeting so sad, so she looked at him sheepishly with her arms hesitantly outstretched and said,

“Can I?”

He seemed to know exactly what she was asking when he pulled her in for a hug. It took them a moment of adjustment to settle; she being so used to his new more slender form, and he not being used to her at all. But when they did, when everything finally slotted into place and they were them once more, she exhaled and felt all that pain and anguish just… release. He didn’t take it from her, and she didn’t know where it went, but being here in his arms when she had thought she never could have been again felt like the most blissful recompense following such wretched and unjust anguish.

“I miss you,” she whimpered, holding on to him tighter.

“Rose?”

The sound of her name on his lips was a comfort in itself. “Mmm?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah?”

“That bloke of yours,” he paused, and she realised it was for dramatic effect when he whispered, “he’s actually me.”

She giggled despite herself. “After everything I’ve told you about him, you still want to assign your name to him?”

“He does sound a bit like a prat, I’ll admit, but he must have done some good things, too, surely?” She shook her head begrudgingly into his chest. “You wouldn’t still be here if he hadn’t.”

She smiled sadly, and reasoned, “I suppose he did regenerate for me.”

“Blimey,” he flustered, genuinely quite surprised by the sounds of it. “I’ve regenerated many times before, and for many different reasons, but I can tell you never for somebody else.”

She smiled; although she had never really known exactly what happened on satellite 5, she had only managed to learn from him that it was to save her life. He didn’t particularly like to talk about it, she gathered, not because he regretted doing so, but in a way she couldn’t quite decipher. Like he was afraid, almost — although of what, she wasn’t sure.

“You, Rose Tyler, must be quite extraordinary indeed.”

She held on to him only tighter as she felt his words find their home deep within her heart, in a way she knew they would never be able to be coaxed out of again by not even herself. And she knew the man she thought she was going to see tonight felt the same, really, if she was honest with herself. She realised, then, that she wouldn’t have been able to hear if he had said it in that estuary accent; it was specifically him saying it in this northern accent tonight that rang deep and true for both men.

And with that, she felt the imminent dread of knowing she needed to leave.

“I probably need to go tell him I’ve made some paradox, then,” she sighed jokingly, although a part of her wished she wasn’t. If she could only have this, this sweet memory of the two of them at a time where she needed to be reminded that it would always be just the two of them, then pulling away from him now might be less tortuous.

“No need,” he said, and then he tilted his head and whispered, “Looks like he’s already fixed it for you.”

She frowned, but even as she tried to process how he — the other him — could have possibly already done anything to fix this, her mistake, her desperate need to see her old friend and deepest love of her life just one last time in a time of such heartbreak, her heart swelled to know that of course he had.

“No paradox?” she whispered back, afraid anybody other than him might hear her.

He nodded, and she felt him kiss her hair. “No paradox, if he’s done it right. Now go, quick, before we find out if he hasn’t.”

#nine x rose #ninth doctor #rose tyler #loup.fic #dw fic

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danteinthedevildom · 4 years ago

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So, talkin abt multilingual Mams,

I was gonna make this post anyway but then I saw @cheerypining put this in the tags of my post re: Mams’ English in his character song:

I would like to hollar out a hell yes!

The thing with Mams is that he isn’t stupid. He’s smart as fuck, he’s just motivated by self interest and fixation. It’s easier for him to learn things that are of interest to him, or that expand his interests. He’s got that sweet, sweet ADD brain.

So, if language helps him spread out his influence, make money, expand his contacts? It’s gonna be that lil bit easier for him to figure out. It might even be a fixation of his. Learn a language; open opportunities in the place that language hails from. Gain an interest in how language works. Learn other languages bc it’s fun.

Consider, then, if you will, for some of that tastey lore-building,

Mams starting out learning the languages of the most influencial/opulent human powers. It’s beneficial for him to figure out how to speak their language if he really wants to get at their pockets, and you can’t really smooth talk someone if you barely understand the way their haggling works. How is anyone going to trust you if their idioms go over your head, or if you miss some slang that marks you very starkly as an outsider? It’s a lot easier if they think you’re like them; if you know the little things that’ll get them lowering their guard around you.

He’s great with dialects, too. With differences between the upper and lower classes. It only takes one slip-up using court language around the common folk, or using the dialet of the north in the south, for him to recognise how important those divisions are. He works with trust, and the eventual corruption of that trust, and it becomes pretty clear to him pretty quick that trust can only be attained the more like his target he sounds.

Dead languages still live on in Mammon’s brain. He’s fluent in them, and even though he hasn’t really had to use them in some time, for some reason they’ve just never faded away. You can pretty much use him as a way to track how languages changed over time, how regional variants were influenced by other languages or cultures, when various languages died out and what replaced them.

It’s not something that he really thinks about. It was beneficial for him, so he learnt it. Beyond that, it was fun, and he enjoyed it. He doesn’t really give himself credit for just how much linguistic history he has stored inside his head, and he really doesn’t put much credit into how goddamn useful it is - or would be - for modern historians. That’s not what he’s interested in. He’s content to leave Satan to the books, to the past; he’s got more of a propensity for the practicality, anyway.

Listening to him talk is actually pretty astounding. The ease with which he slips into each language, the depth of his understanding for even the slight nuances between regions, makes him seem like a native speaker. The speed, too, is absolutely stunning; you’ve never seen a more baffling sight than Mammon, speaking mild-mannered in Russian to a witch, switching mid-sentence into heavily-flirtatious French to order from the waitress that came to their table. It’s like he doesn’t even stumble between the two, both as natural to him as breathing.

He has his preferences, of course. When he’s not using the language for his own goals - doesn’t need to, for instance, be careful about his word choice to ensure a bond of trust is made - he quickly slips into a dialect that is most comfortable for him. He might use ‘watashi’ or ‘ore’ when he’s on the job, might tack on the ‘gozaimasu’ to his greetings to make them polite, but when he’s just generally speaking Japanese? That’s when he starts using ‘ore-sama’, when he drops all the humble or stilted phrases; uses ‘ja ne’ instead of ‘sayounara'. That’s when, in English, he stops making sure to enunciate fully; starts shortening ‘you’ to ‘ya’, cuts off the ‘g’ from ‘ing’ words, starts peppering in ‘crap’ instead of ‘stuff’, lets his words slur together to make ‘whaddaya’ out of ‘what are you’.

He’s naturally an informal guy! It’s just the way he prefers to talk. He hates the pompous lingo, even if it’s usually the most beneficial to learn for what he does. If the language he’s speaking has a way to show belligerent informality, he will absolutely use it whenever he can. It’s a choice, make no mistake; he can arguably speak better in most languages than the stupid high academics. He just doesn’t enjoy that crap when it’s not immediately useful to him.

(Yes, that does mean he can comprehend even the most pompously written academic papers. No, that doesn’t mean he wants to read them. He would much sooner stab a fork into his giblets than sit down for any period of time and read that wordy bullshit. Same goes for a lot of Satan’s literature; it’s just not enjoyable for him to read, even if he can perfectly understand it.)

Sometimes a word works better in one language than another. It can get extremely frustrating for him, if he has a very specific point to get across; unless someone knows both languages, they’re never going to fully understand. And why use five words in the inefficient language when one in the efficient language would have been even better for his intent? ‘Fernweh’ works much better than ‘imagine being homesick for a place you’ve never been’, after all.

Mams has a tendency to drop in words he likes from other languages, which makes some of his speech sound a little confusing. He doesn’t think it makes him sound smarter, and he’s not doing it to show off; just, sometimes, he thinks ‘hey’ sounds better than ‘ohayou’, or that ‘ciao’ is cooler and more aloof than ‘au revoir’. Plus, it’s kinda funny when you’re talking to someone Lucifer and you insult them in a language they don’t understand.

(I mean, in English, we literally say stuff like “it has a little je ne sais quoi,” [it has a little something that I can’t adequately express] so we merge languages into our own in order to better express ourselves. Mams does the same. He just does it with words and phrases that aren’t always naturally used together within that language.)

Do you understand the amount of skill that comes with being able to do this without even stopping to think? He somehow manages to do it in a way that makes each sentence still perfectly fluent and understandable in translation. It’s a little incredible, actually, considering he doesn’t put any stock into this ability. It’s just natural for him. Why’s he gotta think on it more than that?

(This does mean, the few times someone points it out, that he gets incredibly flustered. Especially if they say it in awe, or in praise. It really is just second nature to him, not even something he’s putting on for show or something that he’s trying to be good at, so being given so much positive attention for it is... well. It’s surprising, and a little nice, actually. But also genuinely embarrasing. It’s perhaps the only time he’ll struggle to find words in any language.)

In conclusion:

Hell yeah I love reinforcin the idea that Mams ain’t stupid and that there’s a lot of goddamn skill that comes with learnin languages and learnin them to such a degree you can accurately pepper their words into your speech without stoppin to think.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #obey me mammon

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lilikags · 4 years ago

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ೃ‧₊› a b o u t t h i s p o s t° ➮ Pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader ➮ Oneshot ➮ Tags: fluff ➮ Word Count: 2182

A/N: This is for @serowotonin! [for Luna’s Valentines Day collab] Ik I said I was doing Atsumu bc “I was bored” but I always say “imagine being bored” and truly, I haven’t been bored for so long. I forgot that this was for the collab for a fat moment then when you saw the preview I was like, “Wait- no- it’s a surprise.”

Premise: You and Atsumu are cleaning out the apartment, when you find a few letters you thought you would never see again…

“Oi, (y/n), look at what I found,” you heard Atsumu say, leaning over the contents of a drawer he had been sifting through.

“What?” you walked over to see what he had found. The two of you were cleaning out the apartment, as you were going to be moving out soon. Atsumu had a habit of keeping things that connected him to an important memory of his, unless he wanted to forget it- and this was one of them. You didn’t know he kept them- actually, it did make sense of him to, but you had simply forgotten about it and you somehow expected the same for him. You looked down to see what he had in his hands, and your face literally went emotionless as you saw the letter in his hands.

You really didn’t mind the letters, for the most part. Actually, they held dear to you. However, that first one… you were grateful for it, but you also remembered just how bad you wanted to buy a grave space and bury it for eternity back then...

Miya Atsumu.

This was a dare. This is a love letter. For Valentines. Happy valentines day. If you have extra chocolate, send me some.

Sincerest thanks, (y/n).

Atsumu usually threw away the letters he received every Valentines. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude; it was just that there were too many letters for him to read (and reply to), so he usually just threw them out. Osamu often teased him for this; he boasted that he at least read his letters.

“Oi, ‘Samu, look at this one,” Atsumu called out to his brother.

“What?” Osamu looked at him, with a face of disbelief. “Yer actually lookin’ at them?”

“Nah, not really, but this one’s hilarious,” Atsumu laughed.

“Okay, not funny, keep yer lame humor to yourself.”

----------------

“(y/n), truth or dare,” (b/f/n) asked.

You smiled, “Dare.”

“Hmmm… alright, send a love letter to Miya Atsumu- it has to be at least one line long.”

“I’m- okay then.”

You brought out a piece of paper, wrote the first things that came to mind, and once you reached one line, you stopped. You folded the paper and grabbed whatever envelope you could find and sealed it with tape. The dare required actually giving the letter, much to your dismay, but it wasn’t like you could back down from a dare. After all, it was (b/f/n), and the nonstop teasing would definitely occur if you failed to complete the dare.

Dearest (y/n),

I did in fact receive your rather interesting letter, and I have decided to bring you some chocolate as you wished. I wish you, as well, a very happy valentine’s day this year.

Most sincerely, Atsumu.

Atsumu was intrigued enough to write a reply; in fact, he decided to write in the most formal way possible. He knew from the letter that you were either a tsundere or someone who was actually dared to do so, and decided that it would be fun entertainment for the both of you.

When you received the letter, you were surprised to see a reply. It was known he didn’t send out replies, yet you had received one. As you read it, you felt a need to reply; you’d simply feel bad if you didn’t. However, what was there to talk about? How the chocolates were good? He had stuck it on your first period desk, out in the open. And you also sincerely wondered what was with the overly formal tone. You do remember writing the most shitty letter you’ve ever written to him, and that volleyball-obsessed dude just writes something formal to you? Baffles the mind.

Well, then, if he was going to reply, you would too.

Miya Atsumu,

Thanks for the chocolate- your fans make pretty good chocolate, I have to say. Bet I could make better chocolate than ya, ‘cause all ya focus on is just volleyball. Anyways, what was with the overly formal tone- ya like me or somethin’? Would be funny if ya did and I turned ya down. XD

(y/n)

You never really thought of Miya Atsumu, but this really sparked your interest. It was amusing, his reactions. It was definitely something you didn’t expect- you actually didn’t expect a reply at all. The reply you received was definitely out of the ordinary as well, one you never thought a hotshot volleyball player would write. It seemed he was interested in you in some ways- and you as well.

(y/n),

Pfffft, you think I might like ya? I just thought yer letter was interestin’, that’s all. Ya really think I can’t make chocolate? Bet I could make better chocolate than ya, I’ll show you. I make you chocolate myself and we’ll see how it tastes. Just you watch, I’ll make ya say I make the best chocolate ever!

Atsumu.

You saw that in your shoe locker the next morning- and everyone saw it. You were beginning to regret actually replying to him, but there was no backing out now. (b/f/n) really hit the goal here, for her. People were probably talking about it. It’s always some event that involves romance that catches everyone’s eye. And since it was just after valentine’s, everyone would automatically assume it was a love letter. In reality, it was simply a little bit of playful banter.

You wondered if people actually knew who it was. You hoped not; it would gather way too much attention for your liking. You’d have an entire fanclub after you, and it was definitely (b/f/n)’s fault that you got into this entire mess. You had absolutely no idea if anyone saw him slip that into your shoe locker, since it had probably been there for a good hour or so before you and most of the other students got there. In any case, there was nothing you could do about people knowing things they already know, so you headed onto class. It was exam week, and you sighed; it would be a long day.

When you arrived at homeroom, you were not-so-pleasantly surprised with what you found at your desk. You just wanted a quiet day; go to school, take the tests, and get out so you could relax at home. But no, you just had to see this and you knew there was a thing called rumors you had to deal with. Well, you could just be like “whatever” and not care, but you definitely knew who’d be after you, for real. Atsumu’s fanbase was quite scary, and definitely large- a group of people one would regret messing with.

“Ugh- what am I going to do with this chocolate now, he gave me a lot yesterday…”

“(y/n)! Oiiii, you got chocolate?! From who from who-”

“(b/f/n), if you say a word, you are going to be dead to me.”

“...” she looked away, but then turned to you again and whispered in your ear. “So, Miya Atsumu, who has a fanbase, likes you.”

“I’m- no-”

“But what I’m seeing says otherwise?”

“Ugh, you’re coming to my house and you are going to pay for that dare.”

“Oh ho ho, seems like I started something…” “Bet you did.”

Pisshead Atsumu

LMAO bet ya didn’t make the chocolate, yer terrible at lying <///3 seen this chocolate before. And like wtf you put a box of chocolate on my desk with YOUR NAME on it. Ya know that people will do a thing called assuming things, right? Smh, think before you act. Anyways, I’m counting on ya to fix up this mess.

(y/n)

When you finished class, the first thing you did was write the note. You were absolutely paranoid with this mess, and you were going to have Atsumu fix it. Yes, you did technically initiate contact first, but that was (b/f/n)’s fault and this could’ve avoided this if he hadn’t pulled off a whole stunt.

It was already around 6 when he saw the note. A small smirk filled his expression, he was so sure that he would be able to get a good reaction out of (y/n). It was written on scrap paper, the back of a phys. ed worksheet. You wrote it in a rush, very obviously. That wasn’t really what caught his attention though; he was puzzled as to how he would fix this. Tell his fans to fuck off? Osamu would tease him for eternity.

“Oi, what’cha starin’ at?” he heard Osamu nag. “Mom’s waitin’ for us for dinner.”

“Hey, ‘Samu… ya know how to fix this?”

“... ARE YOU AN IDIOT- YOU ARE AN IDIOT.”

“I AM NOT! YOU ARE THE IDIOT HERE!”

“SAYS THE ONE WHO GOT INTO A MESS LIKE THIS!”

“Oi, ya shouldn’t be fightin’ at this hour,” the two heard Kita say, as he gave them a certain look. “... ‘m sorry…” the twins apologized.

Even after a fulfilling dinner made by their mother and a nice, hot shower, Atsumu still couldn’t think of a solution. Osamu almost snitched on him, but he decided that there was enough on their mom’s plate of problems at the moment.

“What if ya said you were dating?” Osamu offered.

“HAH?! ARE YA INSANE?!” Atsumu yelled at him.

“That would explain what happened at valentine’s.”

“But there’s nothin’ between us-”

“Yer fanclub wouldn’t really believe anythin’ else.”

“Yeah…”

(y/n),

Can we meet when practice ends at 6 on Thursday?

M. Atsumu.

“... I’m- Is he just going to apologize then run away? Tch.” you sighed. You had the idea that Miya Atsumu was overconfident and carefree, but not to this extent. The least he could do was fix this- he had power over his fandom and what people said about him, unlike you. You had to go, it wasn’t like you really had much of a choice if you wanted to talk it out and fix it.

“Hey, (y/n) are you and Atsumu dating?” one of your classmates asked, and a bunch of others hovered around the table, waiting to hear a response. (b/f/n) had told you rumors had spread around the entire school; you figured that would’ve happened. Any topic related to the twins spread like wildfire, especially the blonde-haired one.

“... Can you not try to pry into my private life?” you replied, which you instantly realized was exactly a wrong answer to give. This implied that you were in fact dating Atsumu secretly, and you just made your life 10x worse. You figured you should just tell everyone what had happened, then the blame would be on (b/f/n)- it should preferably be placed on Atsumu, since he started it, really.

When you met him at 6pm, you expected no contribution from him. Instead, you were met with a solid plan for something you weren’t really happy about, but it seemed the easiest to convince the public of a story they put out.

“(y/n)... let’s tell them that we’re dating.”

“Hmm… well, they already think that…”

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking…” “It’s fine. All we can do is move forward, I guess.”

“Yeah… ‘Samu gave me this solution; it’s all I have, I’m sorry if it’s-”

“It’s fine. Let’s go through with it. Just protect me from the crazy fangirls; that’s all I want.”

“Ya.”

“And we’ll need to put together a coherent story; what’s yer number?”

“Ahaha, seriously, maybe (b/f/n)’s a prophet. She told me that she was aiming for somethin’ to happen between us,” you commented, remembering what happened years and years ago.

“Ya were just so unnecessarily worried about the fangirls,” Atsumu mentioned.

“Oi! Yer fangirls were hella scary back then…”

That night, you stayed up coming up with a story, which ended with the two of you breaking up so that you could go on your separate ways again. However, the story didn’t last too long, as (b/f/n)’s parent’s investigations went a little too far and spread the truth a little too much. (b/f/n) is one thing, but you had almost forgotten her parents were another, seriously. They’d been a little busy over the last few years, thus the lack of investigations of local drama, but they had been doing so for decades, what could you expect from them?

Nothing was Atsumu’s fault to the fanclub, unless he seriously convinced them that it was. You were guilty until proven innocent. Unbeknownst to you until after, he gave them a whole (to be honest, not-so-great) speech on how he kind of went too far with the joke, but also placed the blame on everyone else for assuming things. People were absolutely ridiculous; their ideas and their insane imagination should learn that the left side of the brain exists too.

“Funny how we met again after college, after all that time.”

“Ya… a real wonder”

Another A/N: OMG THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR ‘TSUMU FORGIVE ME IF I WROTE HIM LIKE, WRONG IN THIS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

『••✎••』 Extra Info * ˚ ✦ ⇢ If you would like to read some of my other works, find them here! * ˚ ✦ ⇢ Taglist: @serowotonin @luna-la-ley // send me an ask if you would like to be added!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu imagines #miya atsumu #atsumu x you #atsumu imagines #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu fluff #atsumu oneshot #atsumu fic #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq x you #hq love letters

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daddy-chiluc · 3 years ago

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My World is Alight by your Gaze

Chapter 1: Dandelion Dreams

Here you go for Non-Ao3 Readers! ^^

TW: Nightmares, blood, mentions of alcohol, depictions/eluding to trauma

—

His skin prickled, hairs rising under the chilling touch of the snow. He knew of this dream. He knew it far too well. A dream of vivid reds and beasts towering over him, his body small and worn out in its futile attempts to fight back. To resist. To resist the abyss that had plagued him, haunted and teased him. He was frustrated. Oh so painfully frustrated. He’s gone through this nightmare so often it’s become a broken record…why it still shook him with fear was beyond him…but he hated it.

The plaint wooden sword in his hands had given him splinters, the wood chipping under his tight grasp, as he slashed at the darkness that shrouded him, the snow doing little to support his momentum. His throat was sore as his tears froze to his cheeks, fingers numbing under the harsh bite of the cold. Crying seemed to stumble him far worse than any monster that had approached him. It confused him. Made him uneasy.

Snezhnaya does not believe in tears he reprimanded as he drowned his fear with the palms of his hands, thrashing and slicing at the darkness until it dissolved into the vast, pure white expanse of snow and trees. He repeated the mantra as a reminder, body shaky as a violent blizzard rushed at him, the wind howling in his ears. With chapped lips, bloodied and numb from the freezing winds, he wiped at his nose, the skin raw from it running. He had finally won. He could feel a gentle shake run through him, the wave of contact quickly growing in force as he darted awake.

“Tartaglia?” Right, Aether. Memories of yesterday’s adventure came rushing to him all too quickly. Flashes of water and blood tainting his mind, “Are you aright? You started to groan in your sleep.”

“Ah, apologies comrade,” he grunted, muscles and limbs sore from yesterday’s brief battle as his wounds began to sting under the bandages. The rest of Aether’s party — Beidou and Klee — began to stir awake at the smell of Aether’s perfected breakfast sandwiches. Had it not been for this reoccurring nightmare, he wouldn’t have a problem eating the Mondstadt delicacy as he had cooked them often, favoring the more comfortable taste over something more refined.

“As much as I appreciate you cooking breakfast, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.” He sighed, getting up from the makeshift bed, the grass being the only cushioning he had over the night. His companions were a tad bit concerned, Klee far too enamored by a yellow butterfly and Beidou not caring for his predicament…after all, he had almost drowned her entire city with her girlfriend. It was only fair she despised him.

Aether simply nodded as he watched his eyes scan over Mondstadt, the cliff they had taken refuge on giving a beautiful view of the nation. The wind had blown by, twisting in his orange locks and dancing merrily along his lashes before a heavy exhale escaped past his lips. The sun started to cook him in his dark clothes, never truly able to get used to the heat even after having left Snezhnaya so long ago. Although, while the Tsaritsa had a certain, almost welcoming place in his heart, he couldn’t help be feel the wind calling to him, enticing him to something greater in the land of freedom.

Freedom. A concept somewhat blurry to him. Blue crystalline eyes growing duller as he tried to recall what it was like…but even the Abyss had taken that from him. Taken away the childish wonder and innocence at such a young age, becoming a savage for survival. Who knows, maybe he’d be fortunate enough to find that wonder in such joyous landscapes of summery green, the faintest smell of fresh grapes teasing his nose.

“I was thinking on taking you and Beidou to a really popular tavern this evening after we drop Klee off to Albedo,” Aether spoke calmly, Beidou perking up at the slightest promise of drinks.

“What kind of drinks?” She spoke swiftly, desperate for beer.

“Their wine is very popular, I’m sure you can ask the bartender for beer though.” His sincerity easing the tension in the party just a bit.

“I might try a glass of wine, see what Ningguang might like and take some back to her after our little crusade,” she chimed, voice still rough with sleep but just as energetic as she was yesterday after being invited to the trek from the land of contracts to the land of freedom.

“Tartaglia?”

“I might entertain it for tonight. Not much of a wine person but I could use a drink.” Maybe the discontentment in his voice gave away whatever had been egging his mind because he felt a small pull on his pant leg to find the little chaos bringer looking up at him with worry, “What’s up Fire Bug?” He smiled, picking her up and holding her over his hip.

“Is big brother Childe okay?” With dandelions fisted and bunched together in her hand, she chatted with him while Aether and Beidou finished packing to close their trip. Maybe his façade had faltered just a tad because her grip on his shoulders tightened ever so slightly.

“Of course Ladybug, why wouldn’t I be?” He hummed as her eyes twinkled with delight, light red eyes glowing brilliantly under the sunlight as an idea came to mind. Delicately, she straightened out the green stems of the flowers in her hand before placing them all throughout his hair, taking time to move every strand and stem with practiced ease — as if she’s done this several times before. Satisfied with her work she grinned, innocent and wide as her eyes closed with her cheeks.

The memory of Childe’s nightmare had long since faded, not wanting this fragile moment to shatter in the rough, calloused palms of his hands. Being with the little firecracker had reminded him of Teucer. Instead of that heavy, sickening feeling of sadness that weighed him down, he imagined what would happen if Klee had met his siblings. He could see them playing in the fields of snow in Snezhnaya, making animals out of snow and snowball fights. Snow angels and snowmen. The cold, harsh empty land suddenly filled with excitement and a childish fun that had warmed the freezing exterior of his heart.

He imagined them rolling in hills and flats of Mondstadt, playing in the wind and dancing happily, uncaring of the Fatui and tyrants of the world. Uncaring of visions and fighting. To simply live in the moment and have fun. To have what he lost at such a young age. To not have to fight for their survival every waking moment. Yes, he’d conquer the world and follow the Tsaritsa to the end of time…but he wouldn’t hesitate to burn the Fatui to the ground. They’d fallen out of her perfect image. Betraying each other left and right. Lying and deceiving every waking moment. If not an enemy then they’d deceive and use a comrade. It was pathetic.

Yet, with Klee in his arms and her pyro vision keeping him warm, he felt alive. He felt happy, a lightness filling his chest as she beamed in his arms. Even if he couldn’t make friends he wouldn’t have a problem stopping by to spoil the little one with toys and gifts. He’d done so with his siblings, and even if she wasn’t of blood, it wouldn’t stop him from giving her sugar and letting her blow up an entire Fatui camp if she felt like it. He was willing to protect her if it was necessary.

“Thank you Klee.” He smiled, it wasn’t sly or mischievous. It hadn’t held any scheme behind the gentle pull of his lips. It was genuine. Filled with warmth and kindness. Klee accepted the gesture happily, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing with vigor, hat squished beneath his chin as they watched the birds fly across the morning sky.

Perhaps her eye had been hallucinating. It would prove to be a problem if it had. A man who nearly killed her partner and the entire city seemed to have a heart after all. Seeing the smile along his face and hold the child so gently made her question him. To Beidou, Childe was an odd figure. He was hard to read, far too many mixed signals to understand which was real and which was fake. After all, he was a Harbinger.

Some part of her however, decided to give him a chance, just for today that is. She wouldn’t let her guard down, but she chose to see what kind of man he actually was rather than letting a title define him. Actions speak far louder than words she told herself, and seeing him be so kind and gentle with the small child made her release a heavy sigh. She could give him a chance, but just for today.

On their journey to Mondstadt, Beidou studied him, watching as he carefully placed a flower back in his hair if one hung loose and carrying Klee on his shoulders the entire walk there, telling her stories and fairytales of all sorts, one of which sounded like Liyue history turned into a children’s tale with bombs for an added effect, keeping her interested. How he came up with such an idea so quickly almost baffled her; and he was supposed to be one of the most feared Harbingers? Maybe she was quick to judge him, but that wouldn’t allow him forgiveness for nearly drowning the harbor. That would take time. If he could explain why she may be able to tolerate him a little more at best.

Unless it’s bullshit. Beidou doesn’t tolerate bullshit. She especially lacks patience when she’s dealing with someone she so heavily detests. So trying to converse with the Harbinger would drive her mad, beyond a doubt. She really hopes this tavern had beer.

—

Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the next chapter!

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oliverwxod · 4 years ago

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I know places (George Weasley imagine) Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Warnings: Freds death mentioned, one swear word maybe, angsty, (they’re like 20 in this btw)

Summary: An old school friend comes by Weasleys wizard wheezes to check in on how George is coping after the death of his twin Fred. And he’s not coping well.

REPOSTING BECAUSE TAGS DIDN’T WORK

It had been too long since she had last visited Diagon Alley, and it had changed. The atmosphere was as dull as the weather, grey clouds and grey skys blending in with the bland colours of the shops that used to be full of joy and colour. The death eaters ruined it when they came by years ago and it had never fully recovered, just like the witches and wizards of the magical world. The end of the war and Voldemort’s defeat still fresh in peoples minds.

Celebrations never happened due to the mourning of the hundreds lost, it was going to take a while.

Y/n looked up to the towering shop in front of her, the once new purple and orange paint vibrant, now peeling from the bricks, the colours faded with the years and the damage the death eaters lefts behind. It was scarily quiet, y/n supposed no one was ready for jokes at the time being, it would come with the recovering process.

The sign on the door read CLOSED in bold letters, but she had come all this way and had spent time gearing herself up emotionally or mentally for this. She knocked on the door, three sharp taps that echoed through the streets. The sound of footsteps smacking on the wet pavement behind her caught her eye, stepping back from the door to glance in curiosity. It was just a passerby, running to get out of the rain.

Once she turned back to the door she let out a surprised gasp as George Weasley stood there staring at her in confusion and curiosity.

“George” she whispered barely audible. She didn’t know why she was so taken aback by his presence, she had come to see him after all.

“Y/L/N” he spoke, the use of her last name always bugging her. He took in her appearance, a green cloak tied tightly around her shoulders, her posture as straight and proper as always, matching the confidence she held in herself. George always guessed it was the Slytherin way.

“what are you doing here?” he asked. He was baffled by her presence, he had not heard much from her since he left Hogwarts all those years ago to pursue the shop with Fred. He had only briefly seen her during the battle of Hogwarts almost a year ago.

“ I-” she was speechless, unsure how to word the fact that she just wanted to see him.

“Ministry business?” he asked, having heard from his parents and Ron that she had taken a position working in journalism for the ministry.

“No- I just … I wanted to see you” she spoke watching as his brow furrowed at her words, no doubt not understanding it.

“Would you like to come in?” he offered, not sure what else to say.

“please” she said softly, eyeing the rain that was falling harder by the second. She stepped inside after him, watching as he turned his back on her. Y/n took the moment to observe the inside of the store, it was still packed full of things that brought a smile to her face.

Puking pastels and Peruvian darkness powder, Love potions and Pygmy puffs.

“How is business?” she asked, George almost cringing at the small talk, he hated it.

“Haven’t opened since” he spoke glumly. “Reckon people don’t have it in them for it just yet ,feels insensitive while everyones still recovering”

“How are you?” Y/n asked the big question.

“Why are you really here?“ he ignored her question, too used to people asking it.

“I told you, I wanted to see how you were doing, this past year- can’t have been easy” she said.

“Why are you here now, out of all days” he asked, trying to make himself look busy. Y/n spotted a bottle of fire whiskey on the counter, half empty, it was clear he wasn’t coping well.

“I-I don’t know” she spoke truthfully into the quietness of the store, she watched as George moved, walking around the counter, creating an extra barrier between then.

“I think of you a lot” she said open and honest, it shocked him. “Even more so recently” He stared at her, an expressionless face as he tried to think of a response.

He could lie, say he didn’t think of her, that he didn’t read the articles she wrote every week, or he could finally admit that he thought of her often too.

“My heart breaks everyday at the thought of you being alone” she said, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away and diverting her gaze to the rain hitting against the Windows.

George knew that Ron must have said something to her, their offices at the ministry just across from each other and Ron often took to updating him on her without George even asking .

He wondered if she was also alone and whether that was the reason she came to see him.

Y/n had always been an independent person, she didn’t have many friends at Hogwarts, a few close Slytherins she had grown up with, but apart from that she was fairly alone, it had a great deal to do with the whole school knowing her parents were active death eaters. George was the only one who ever bothered to talk to her, even if it meant sneaking around.

“How are your family?” she asked, hating the silence that had fallen, George used to be a man of words but now he seemed to not be able to find any words.

“I’m sure you already know the answer” he said quietly.

“your brother wishes to see you more” she spoke, letting him know that she knew he hasn’t spoken to them in a while.

“If you came here to make me feel guilty then you can leave” he glared.

“I came to see you, as I said. It appears that I still care for you even though you have never shown me the same.”

George stood staring at her unbelievingly at the realisation and feeling like the worlds biggest prat.

“I can not tell whether you are just ignorant or wildly clueless George” she sighed, starting to walk around the table in front of her filled with back to school boxes of jokes.

“You know… I remember in 5th year.” she spoke still staring at the table of jokes “I took Daphne Greengrass to the hospital wing because you had tricked her in to eating some puking pastels. I came to find you to scold you and while I was telling you off we both started laughing… and then you reached out, tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and I thought… I thought you were going to ask me to the yule ball, but you didn’t, you just turned away from me and said nothing and then I found out the next day you were going with Alicia Spinnet… and that’s when I realised you didn’t feel anything for me.” She spared a quick glance at him, before adverting her eyes again.

“But naive little me still had hope” she chuckled quietly under her breath.

“Y/n- I didn’t know-” George started.

“I’m not angry at you” she shrugged “its clear you were just clueless, but then in 6th year when we went through all that trouble of sneaking around Umbridge for the whole year, I thought… wow that’s a lot of effort to go through for supposedly meaningless hookups.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say” George said at loss for words, he had seemed to be at a loss of what to say as soon as he saw her standing at the shop door, she was the last person he expected to check in with him.

“I don’t want you to say anything, unless you want to” she spoke quietly. “It was never my intention to talk about this. Like I said, I just came to see how you are”

“I wish we could change the past, but we can’t ” George mumbled.

“I suppose not” she spoke feeling the weight his words held. “I should go” she decided.

George nodded twice, silently watching as she made her way to the door, stopping as he reached the handle. She looked at him before speaking.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I am sorry, Fred deserved the world” her voice was sincere and George sighed shutting his eyes tightly before opening them again.

“Stay” he spoke “have a drink with me”

#George Weasley #George Weasley imagine #George Weasley x reader #Harry Potter imagine #George Weasley angst #Fred Weasley imagine

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unforth · 4 years ago

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May Trope Mayhem Fill Day 1: Friends to Lovers

Fandom: Tian Guan Ci Fu/Heaven Official’s Blessing

Ship: Xie Lian/Hua Cheng

Rating: Gen

Tags: modern au, tooth-rotting fluff, 520 day, florist Xie Lian

Word count: 2,492

Cross-posted to AO3

@duckprintspress

The bell over the door rang and Xie Lian turned from the bouquet he was arranging, forcing his expression into a tired smile as he prepared to greet yet another customer. 520 was an auspicious day for love, and a great day for Xie Lian’s shop, but it was exhausting. His smile widened and became more genuine, though, when he saw his customer: Hua Cheng, one of the few regulars that Xie Lian knew well enough to consider a friend.

Not that they’d ever met any place outside of “Buds to Blooms.”

Not that they’d ever spent much time together.

Not that they talked about anything other than flowers, at least not most of the time.

Not that they had really any relationship at all, no matter how much Xie Lian might want one.

Hua Cheng looked especially dapper for the holiday, tall, slim form clothed in black slacks, a red button up shirt, and a black suit jacket. Silver jewelry adorned his neck, an intricate filigree in the shape of butterfly nestled between the open buttons of the top of his shirt. His fingers were beringed, one looped with a red string that seemed oddly familiar, and sparkling chains were threaded through his long hair. Tiny chimes sounded every time he moved his head. As if his attire wasn’t enough to demonstrate that he had a date for the evening, his eye patch, usually plain, today was decorated with a red felt heart that Xie Lian suspected had been sewn on by hand.

He was gorgeous.

(read more!)

Something unpleasantly like jealousy curdled in Xie Lian’s stomach. If only he were the one that Hua Cheng got dressed up for...if only he were the one Hua Cheng wanted...if only--

“Xie Lian?” Hua Cheng asked.

Blinking, Xie Lian flushed. He’d been staring, a white rose stem still clutched in one hand, his trimmers in the other. With a shake of his head, he shoved the blossom into the arrangement he’d been working on, set the clippers down, and wiped his hands on his apron as he stepped out from behind the counter.

“Good evening, Hua Cheng,” he said brightly. Being jealous of the man, woman, or genderqueer individual privileged to spend the evening with Hua Cheng was absurd. “You’ve got perfect timing, I was just about to close up for the night.” Xie Lian was under no delusions of what his actual relationship with Hua Cheng was - customer and businessman, with a splash of friendship. “Indeed...I’d probably be closed already, except I wanted to get a head start on tomorrow.”

“I know,” said Hua Cheng with a toothy grin. “I got tired of waiting.” Confused, Xie Lian tilted his head to one side. Stopping in the middle of the open store floor, Hua Cheng turned a slow circle, eye searching the decimated shelves and coolers. “Wow, you musta been busy.” Xie Lian usually prided himself on the profusion and variety of flowers he kept in stock, but closing time on the busiest day of the year saw him nearly cleaned out.

“I’m exhausted,” Xie Lian confessed. With any normal customer, he’d never have admitted it - always have to be bright and perky and indefatigable for the clientele! - but Hua Cheng wasn’t a normal customer. “But 520 day alone pays my rent for most of the year, so it’s worth it.”

“I’m sure it is,” Hua Cheng murmured. “And I’m sure you need a break, so…” A decisive nod set of a cascade of beautiful music as Hua Cheng strode to one of the coolers and pulled it open. A few bedraggled bouquets and a single bucket full of stalks of cape jasmine were all that remained within. Every year, Xie Lian stocked up on the cape jasmine, tiny white blossoms nestled in profusion amidst evergreen leaves, and every year hardly anyone bought any. Xie Lian didn’t care. They were his favorite flower, and a small indulgence, and when no one bought them, he got to take them home and put them on his dining room table and imagine impossible things while he ate dinner for one on the most romantic night of the year.

Except apparently not this year, because Hua Cheng ignored the arrangements and grabbed the entire plastic vase of jasmine.

“How much for all of these?” Hua Cheng asked, hefting the container and letting the cooler door slide shut behind him.

Could he be any more perfect?

“Oh...uh…” Catching his lip between his teeth, Xie Lian looked at the flowers, looked at Hua Cheng, looked at the darkness outside his shop window, and sighed. “...just take them. You’re a loyal customer, and it’s not like I was going to sell them to anyone else tonight. They’ll be past selling by tomorrow, so…”

“No,” replied Hua Cheng firmly. Xie Lian frowned, confusion intensifying. “Name a price.”

“But--”

“Look. There’s this person. I’ve tried everything I can think of to let them know how I feel, and nothing has worked. And I have a suspicion or three about why they won’t listen, so tonight is the night. They’re worth it, and I need them to know they’re worth it, and so I’m paying, and then I’m taking these flowers to them, and then - unless I’m devastatingly wrong about their opinion of me - we’re spending the evening together, and I’m getting them dinner, and maybe giving them a foot massage. So. Tell me how much I owe you, Xie Lian.”

No, seriously - could he be any more perfect?

Yes, he could...if I was the person he was doing all those nice things for.

Xie Lian heaved a sigh. “250 yuan,” he said. Hua Cheng lifted a suspicious eyebrow. Yeah, Xie Lian might have low-balled that number a little...a lot… “...okay, more like 400.”

“Perfect,” Hua Cheng announced. Setting the container down at his feet, he reached into a pocket, withdrew a billfold, and deliberately counted out 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 100 renminbi bills.

“Hua Ch--”

“Zip it,” Hua Cheng said, setting the money down on the counter just behind Xie Lian. Because Xie Lian was still just standing there. With his hands at his sides. Staring. And feeling sorry for himself. “I’m taking the container too.”

“That still doesn’t cost--”

Oh, but he was so tired.

“This person is worth it.”

Xie Lian struggled to keep his exhale from leaving as a forlorn sigh; it whispered from him, leaving his shoulders slumped, his mind fogged, and his chest hollow. “Alright. Have a nice night, Hua Cheng.”

“I will.” There was an inexplicable intensity to Hua Cheng’s voice, but Xie Lian didn’t want to try to understand. What he already knew hurt enough, and he knew he was being absurd. Dwelling on it would only intensify his sadness. Hua Cheng lifted the bucket of jasmine again, hugged it close with apparent indifference to the damage it might do to his expensive suit, and walked to the door. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” said Xie Lian, his voice empty, his heart empty, his store empty, his life...he shook his head and followed Hua Cheng to the door. Given Hua Cheng’s burdens, Xie Lian hustled and stepped before him, opening the door so he could leave without even more difficulty. “Thanks as always for your business.”

“My business…” Hua Cheng echoed. “Is that what this is?”

Xie Lian had no idea what Hua Cheng meant.

Xie Lian refused to think about what Hua Cheng meant, as Hua Cheng stepped out of the store, and Xie Lian closed and locked the door behind him, and Xie Lian turned and stared at his barren shelves, cast in deep shadow in the low evening light.

Tomorrow, he’d be up bright and early to receive his shipments, make the day’s deliveries, run the business, do all the work of owning a florist shop himself.

Tomorrow, he’d be collected, and calm, and professional.

Today…

A single teardrop made a wet, cool line down his cheek.

...today, he was being ridiculous.

Shaking off his melancholy, Xie Lian set about shutting down. There were cases to refill, vases to wash, coolers to clean. There was work to do, so much work to do, and he lost himself in the rhythm of it, in the simple joy it brought him. Minutes passed, the evening stretching later. Outside, he could hear as celebrators walked by. There was so much joy and jollity in their voices, and brought him a sense of pride to reflect and think - he helped make the day better for many people. His flowers brought happiness to dozens, hundreds, of people.

It was enough.

His flowers brought happiness to Hua Cheng.

It was almost enough.

It was--

A knock-knock-knock startled Xie Lian as he carefully swept bits of leaf and petal into his palm after wiping the cooler interior. Tumbling to his bottom, scattering flower bits over his lap, he sat there blinking. It was probably just some doomed boyfriend or husband realizing they’d forgotten to buy their love a gift. It was probably...but he glanced toward the exterior door, and there was no one there.

Knock, knock, knock.

Uncertain, Xie Lian rose and walked toward the back of the store. The knocking grew louder the closer he drew to the receiving door, and finally, baffled, Xie Lian went to it and peered through the peekhole.

Hua Cheng stood outside, smile suave, arms embracing the container of cape jasmine branches.

Xie Lian hesitantly unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Apologies, was there something wrong with…?”

“Oh, never,” replied Hua Cheng brightly. “I just got tired of waiting. Again.”

“I don’t…um...?”

“I told you, I have someone very important I want to see tonight, and they deserve to know how much I value them.”

Hearing it again stung. Did Hua Cheng really have to rub in how special this person was to him? What did any of it have to do with Xie Lian? Why was Hua Cheng here, instead of with them? None of it made any sense, and Xie Lian didn’t want to think about it, except how could he not think, and wonder, and mourn, with Hua Cheng standing in front of him once more?

“I’m sorry...I don’t…”

Hua Cheng rolled his eye. “Unfortunately, he’s not always the most observant individual, but I forgive him for that. To tell you the truth,” Hua Cheng whispered, leaning forward conspiratorially, “I’d forgive him anything.”

Wait.

Was Hua Cheng implying…

Don’t think about it.

“Huh?” asked Xie Lian.

...but it almost sounds like...

With a hearty, gorgeous laugh that set flower bucket water sloshing to the ground, Hua Cheng threw his head back. “They’re for you, Xie Lian,” he managed between gales. “They’re your favorite, right?”

Oh.

Oh...oh, wow.

No...it couldn’t be.

“Huh?!”

Setting the container of flowers down beside the door, Hua Cheng withdrew one stalk, length heavily bowed with tiny white blossoms, and held it out for Xie Lian to take. Too tired, too bemused, too drunk on nascent hope to decline, Xie Lian took it.

“I couldn’t exactly ask you out while you were on the clock,” Hua Cheng explained. “For a long time, I thought I’d been so clear about my interest, and that surely you’d pick up on it and, if you were interested, respond in kind. But even though you flirted back, you never, ever did, and I started to wonder...I was pretty depressed about it for a while there…”

“...you stopped coming for a few months…” murmured Xie Lian.

“Yup, exactly - then. But I couldn’t stay away, and when I returned you were so happy to see me, and I couldn’t believe I’d misread your mutual interest so completely. And then it occurred to me...what if it wasn’t your interest I’d misread, but...you?”

“Me?”

“You’re so quiet.” Hua Cheng’s voice was fond, his expression gentle, and he reached out with a hand to cup Xie Lian’s chin. “You’re so kind.” The red string tied around Hua Cheng’s finger brushed Xie Lian’s cheek. “You’re so self-effacing.” The feel of it was familiar, and Xie Lian finally recognized it - it was one of his strings, from the store, the ones he used to tie bouquets. “You would never presume that I’d be more interested in you than in the flowers you sold.” Hua Cheng was wearing it like jewelry. “Not that I don’t love flowers - I do, truly.” That was so… “Almost as much as I love you.”

...so…

...wait, what?

“Hua Cheng,” Xie Lian breathed, heart in his throat, tears in his eyes.

“Will you go out with me tonight, A-Lian?” asked Hua Cheng, deep and rich and gloriously sincere.

Xie Lian opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, closed it, blinked away tears, and then smiled. “I guess it depends,” he said with a grin.

It was gratifying to see Hua Cheng look a fraction as confused as Xie Lian had felt most of the evening. “On what?”

“...did you mean what you said earlier?”

“Every word.”

“Even the part about the foot massage?”

“Especially the part about the foot massage!” said Hua Cheng. “When was the last time you sat down?”

“I don’t even remember,” Xie Lian admitted. “It’s been a long day.”

“I know, A-Lian.” Sliding a hand down Xie Lian’s neck, along his shoulder, and down his arm, Hua Cheng took Xie Lian’s hand in his own, clasped both their fingers around the jasmine stem, raised it to his lips, and gave it a gentle kiss. Jasmine petals rained down between them like spring rain. “So I hope you’ll forgive me for making it even longer.”

“Oh, Hua Cheng…” Joy bursting through his heart, Xie Lian allowed Hua Cheng to gently tug him out the back and pull the door closed behind them. “...A-Cheng…” The soothing scent of jasmine flowers filled the alley. “I’d forgive you anything.”

“Anything, anything?”

“Anything, anything,” Xie Lian confirmed. “Though--”

“Knew there’d be a catch.”

“--I’d appreciate if I could go home and change before dinner?”

“...that’s fair. Should I wait for you here?” asked Hua Cheng with a gesture to the narrow, dirty alley.

“Why don’t you walk me back?” Xie Lian suggested.

“Not nervous about inviting a strange man back to your place?” Hua Cheng teased.

“I think only a strange man would want to come back to my place…”

“As I suspected - you sell yourself far too short.”

“Then aren’t I lucky to have you to tell me your worth?”

I do have you, right? You really think…

“You are,” Hua Cheng replied, unhesitating and firm. “And I will.”

...you really do.

“Wow.”

I was right.

“You’re worth everything to me, A-Lian.”

He really is so perfect...

“And you, to me.”

...we’re really perfect.

And, hand-in-hand, in a cloud of cape jasmine blossoms and a choir of chimes, they walked toward Xie Lian’s apartment.

Together.

#may trope mayhem #unforth writes #tgcf #hualian #hua cheng #xie lian #tgcf fanfiction #what me know how to tag things #never

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theewildflowers · 4 years ago

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dramione fanfic recs

I’ve fallen into the Dramione fanfiction hole lately due to a friend’s recent obsession with Dramione and Draco Malfoy tik tok, so I wanted share some favorite stories I’ve read, especially with those who are also new to the pairing. Many of the fics below are pretty popular within the fandom, but maybe there will be something new as well for those who come across this post.

I’ve included the rating and word count in parenthesis, and the fics are set in the magical universe unless otherwise noted. Please mind the tags when you click through—many fics may have triggers. Happy reading!

wait and hope by mightbewriting (M, 95k) “Harry,” Hermione began, voice very controlled, but she could feel the blade of panic slicing at her vocal cords. “Why was Draco Malfoy just screaming bloody murder about his,” and the word almost strangled her as she said it, “wife?” Harry's green eyes blew wide. Healer Lucas pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly displeased with the recent series of events. “He was referring to you, my dear,” she said. “That was the other question you got wrong. Your name is Hermione Jean Granger-Malfoy.”

Part of the Wait and Hope story universe. Draco’s POV, Beginning and End, is a WIP. (I’ve read and reread Wait and Hope multiple times in a few weeks span, so it’s safe to say that it’s my favorite Dramione story universe.)

the politician’s wife by Pir8fancier (M, 66k) This story is set twenty-three years after the fall of Voldemort. Our main characters are Ministry employees, middle-aged, and the majority of them not very happy. (This was the first Dramione fic I’ve ever read and is still one of my favorites)

the right thing to do by LovesBitca8 (E, 176k) Hermione felt the pounding in her ears again. She would see him for the first time since the Great Hall, gaunt and stricken at the Slytherin table with his mother clutching his arm. She hadn't meant to look for him. Not in the corridors, not beneath the white sheets of the fallen, not on the way to the Chamber of Secrets with Ron, but she was a stupid girl. Part of the Rights and Wrongs story universe (highly recommend Draco’s POV, All the Wrong Things, as well).

remain nameless by HeyJude19 (E, WIP) The monotony of Draco’s daily routine had become both a lifeline and a noose. But this new habit of grabbing coffee with Hermione Granger is quickly becoming a reason to get out of bed and is unfortunately forcing him to re-evaluate his inconsequential existence.

seeker fit by selinyu and etlithien (T, 2.6k) “Will the Head Girl grace the pitch with her presence for today’s match?” The timbre of Malfoy’s cool lilting drawl slid down Hermione’s spine. I recommend all the fics in the SenLithien Dramione Collaboration collection.

breath mints / battle scars by Onyx_and_Elm (E, 148k) For a moment, she's almost giddy. Because Draco Malfoy's been ruined by this war and he's as out of place as she is and — yes, he has scars too. He's got an even bigger one. She wonders whether one day they'll compare sizes.

apple pies and other amends by ToEatAPeach (M, 76k) It’s not until she’s brought a basil and strawberry sponge cake to Neville Longbottom and his new girlfriend, Hannah Abbott, a dozen rhubarb hand-pies to Luna and Xenophilius Lovegood, and another basket of ganache-covered muffins to Dean and Seamus, that Hermione admits to herself what she’s actually doing: she’s making a thing of this. It’s a veritable PTSD tour. With pastries. And hand-skimmed clotted cream. And she has no idea why she’s doing it, but it’s becoming very apparent that she is.

clean and marked by olivieblake (M, 118k and 178k) Malfoy's handsome face was contoured into a condescending smirk. "No faith in that giant brain of yours, Granger?" She looked up at him defiantly. "Maybe I don't have faith in you!" she said, raising her voice. Malfoy only looked at her. "You'll find I'm very surprising." Basically a sixth year retelling.

the best of me by MrsRen (E, 148k) Officially, Hermione Granger was killed in action during the Battle of Hogwarts. Unofficially, Draco Malfoy has never stopped searching for her. Years after the war during a mission in France, his salvation comes in the form of a little blond boy and a familiar half-Kneazle.

fortuitous by MrsRen (M, 93k) Recently divorced Draco doesn't believe in the ideology of having one true love. He certainly doesn't expect to meet his match in a Halloween themed coffee shop, but fate has a peculiar way of giving you just what you need.

bring him to his knees by Musyc (E, WIP) Draco is on the case of a murderer, but to investigate, he needs a fake relationship - and a kink club play partner. When Hermione volunteers to take the role, both do their best to maintain the lie without letting each other know the truth: neither of them are acting.

looking glass by kyonomiko (M, 99k) No one knows what happened to Draco Malfoy in the final battle, but, when his portrait shows up at Harry Potter's house, it's readily assumed he didn't make it. Hermione's perspective on the wizard starts to change as she learns more about who he really was. The more she knows, the more tragic his apparent demise seems to be.

isolation by bex-chan (E, 264k) He can't leave the room. Her room. And it's all the Order's fault. Confined to a small space with only the Mudblood for company, something's going to give. Maybe his sanity. Maybe not. "There," she spat. "Now your Blood's filthy too!"

thirty-five by raven_maiden (M, 2.3k) It's Draco Malfoy's birthday, and you'd think he'd have some say in the matters concerning his birthday. Then again, the will of four other Malfoys is hard to overcome. Part of Meet the Malfoys collection.

apples & cream by LovesBitca8 (E, 1.4k) She could have taken her things and gone through his Floo without a word. She could have ignored him on Monday morning, as though last night had been no more than a fever dream and too much Firewhisky. But she’d come back to bed.

universal truths by scullymurphy (E, 145k, pride & prejudice inspired AU) Hermione Granger is a woman of intelligence and spirit. Draco Malfoy is a man of wealth and privilege. When they meet again, a decade after the second great wizarding war—they are not impressed. But when circumstances throw them together, dislike turns to attraction, attraction turns to passion and passion may turn into something more... If they can stay out of their own way and let love take its course.

my brown-eyed girl by PacificRimbaud (M, 2k) "Give it up, Granger. We've had our N.E.W.T. results for a week. What can possibly have earned your continued academic devotion in the last four days of term?" Draco and Hermione have a lazy snuggle in the grass behind the Quidditch pitch.

bite marks by provactive_envy (E, 19.4k, muggle AU) Draco’s mouth falls open. He clutches his cookie and ignores the shower of crumbs littering his grey cashmere fingerless gloves. He can’t decide if he wants to fuck this girl or fight with her. Maybe both? Maybe at the same time?

thirteenth night by Nelpher (M, 78k) When Hermione is assigned to keep tabs on a memory-charmed Draco, she is faced with a decision that could change her life forever.

familiar faces, worn out places by LovesBitca8 (E, 7k) “You are at St. Mungo’s. You were in a coma.” He looks me over again, taking a pause. “I am a Healer here now,” he says, like it explains something. My fingers stretch, drifting across his sleeve. He looks down, like I’ve thrown mud at him. Forcing my vocal chords together for the first time, I whisper, “What’s your name?”

bone mortar by mightbewriting (M, 10k, muggle AU) Draco clenched his teeth, forcing sharp, shallow breaths through his nose as he ripped open the door to his usual lecture hall only to find— someone at his desk. Well, he supposed it was technically less his desk and more the desk as he didn’t actually own this particular classroom. But since he’d taught in it for the last four semesters in a row he at least felt like he’d earned common law ownership of some sort.

of mongolian fireflies and russian sharpclaws by barnettdidit (T, 37k) As colleagues for the F.A.U.C.E.T. (Fetching And Uncovering Creatures Experiencing Terror) department, Draco and Hermione have had their fair share of arguments. When they face their hardest case yet, mixed with an odd swarm of fireflies that glow in the colour according to how they feel about each other, Hermione is struggling to keep a straight mind.

a muggle-born magic by Musyc (M, 50k, regency era AU) Physician's daughter Hermione Granger finds herself in need of a way to pay off her father's debts after his death. Draco Malfoy, retired from the politics of the Isolationists, a group of pure-bloods bent on separating 'true' magic from lesser folk, finds himself in need of a tutor for his son, Scorpius, who appears to be incapable of magic and must learn to survive in a world without it. Draco also needs a wife and mother for Scorpius, to satisfy a promise to his unwell father. After she saves his son from an attack by Isolationists, Draco hires the Muggle-born Miss Granger for the former, and after a riot in Vauxhall Gardens and a scandalous discovery made by his mother, weds that selfsame Muggle-born for the latter. While making the best of her marriage of (in)convenience, Hermione discovers that Scorpius' history of wild imaginings and dreams is more than just imagination. As she attempts to teach him about magical abilities no one expected he would ever have, she and Draco work together to raise Scorpius and learn to trust each other.

aurelian by BittyBlueEyes (T, 255k) Two years after the war, a young stranger pays a visit to the burrow. His arrival alone is baffling, but the news he brings of an upcoming war turns the world upside down. Hermione's quiet, post-war life will never be the same.

malfoy shrugged by uselessenglishmajor (E, 11k) February 14th is just another day at the office for Hermione Granger. Shame no one else got the memo.

distance by In_Dreams (T, 138k) She’s a novice Unspeakable trying to earn her stripes. He’s a shafted Auror desperate to prove himself. When they end up forced together on a shared assignment, neither is willing to back down. But when the mission pulls them into an ancient world of mystery and adventure, they find themselves depending on each other in a race against time.

nonscents by In_Dreams (M, 10k) Granger's Amortentia smells like him and Draco can't understand why. More importantly, he can't let her figure it out.

correspondence by olivieblake (T, 5k) Every year, Draco insists that Hermione take a picture for their Christmas card. Why? Hell if she knows, but if it will make him happy, so be it.

sandalwood and gardenias by secondbutton (E, 9k) A balanced fragrance of sandalwood and something musky and earthy followed him like a shroud. Draco Malfoy smelled like a magical forest’s best kept secret. Like the moment following a storm when the sun peeks back over the clouds and living beings stop what they’re doing and pause to marvel at being able to roam outside again. It was a crisp top note with more robust undertones, and just a hint of sweetness. She thought she might love the scent if it lived on anyone else other than him.

#dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #fanfiction recs #fanfic recs #little to no ron weasley bashing #dramione fanfics #dramione fanfic recs #fic recs #dramione fic recs

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anjanettexcordonia · 4 years ago

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Living Proof AU

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir A/U

Catch Up Here Living Proof AU

Rating/Triggers: Mature (18+); NSFW; some language; suggestive language; infidelity

Pairings: Liam x MC; Drake x MC; Drake x OC

Word count: 1631 (+/-)

A/N: Please excuse any grammatical errors.

**Disclaimer**: Some characters and scenes belong to Pixelberry.

Song Inspiration:

If you would like to be tagged or removed please let me know!

PermaTags: @yourmajesty09 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @hopefulmoonobject @mom2000aggie

Series Tags: @tinkie1973 @cordonianroyalty @txemrn @marshmallowsaremyfavorite

Chapter 1

I want to run after Liam but my feet are frozen in place. Five years of memories shot through my mind like a slow motion film reel. “You should go Brooks,” I barely made out Drake’s words over the sound of my heart thundering in my chest. “Just go,” he whispers. I could hear the sadness and anger in his voice. My feet felt like they were cemented to the ground. “I’m sorry Drake.” I choked out before pushing myself out the hotel door. Why was Liam in New York? How did he know? What did he know? The questions swirled through my brain like a tornado. It didn’t matter though. None of it did. The damage was done.

I made my way back to my hotel, the streets of New York City bustled even in the wee hours of the morning. I constantly searched the sea of faces for Liam. I slid the key card to my hotel suite into the reader until the light turned green. Liam was sitting on the small sofa in the living room. “Liam?” I asked, stunned that he was here in my suite. “Riley.” His soft voice saying my name immediately calmed me. “We’re leaving in the morning.” Liam’s voice suddenly turned cold. “Liam.. I..” Liam raised his hand to silence me before I could go any further. How he could be so calm yet commanding after five years of marriage still baffles me. “No Riley. Just stop.” Liam shook his head. I knew better than to pester him. It was my fault. I broke his heart. I made my way to the bathroom of my suite and stripped my dress off. I stared at myself in the mirror. Who was I? I could see the woman I was so clearly but did recognize her?

Liam was in my suite bed. I half expected him to take the sofa. “Liam,” I whisper, “I’m sorry.” “Every marriage has secrets Riley. I just didn’t realize they were from each other.” Liam murmured. We fell asleep with what felt like miles between us.

“Riley get up.” I slowly opened my eyes with a groan. The bright bedroom lights stung my eyes as I tried to open them. “Flight leaves in 45 minutes.” Liam was already up and dressed. He was packing my belongings from the gala the night before. Fifteen minutes early, we arrived at the tarmac and boarded our flight. Drake was nowhere in sight. “Drake’s flying back on another flight. Bastien is with him. If that’s what you're wondering.” Liam spoke. He could always read my expression even at my most stoic. I nodded my head.

Liam had dismissed all staff from the flight other than the necessary personnel that would remain in the cockpit unless told otherwise. “I thought we could talk about..” his words drifted as if he couldn’t let the revelations of last night slip from his tongue, He sat across from me in the plush chairs. I nodded my head. “I need to know why, Riley?” I stared in his deep blue eyes. “I thought we were happy?” “We were, we are Liam.” “Then why? Why did you have sex with my best friend?” Liam’s eyes locked on mine. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles had formed under his eyes. He looked weathered and worn almost as if he had aged a decade overnight.

“There was a time when Drake and I…” “Wait.. are you telling me this isn’t the first time?” Liam interrupted. “It’s not.” Liam’s entire body tensed at my words. I could see the change in him. His eyes darkened into a deep navy almost black. They filled with shock and surprise. His chest was visibly rising and falling. “I’m going to need a drink if we’re to continue this.” Liam mumbled. He poured two glasses of scotch. “Here, I’m not the only one that’s going to need a drink or three.” Liam finished off his glass in one swallow and poured himself another. “Continue.” Liam commanded. “It was before we were married. During the engagement tour with Madeleine.” I took a large sip of my scotch. “I thought it was pointless. I tried to go back to New York, Max & Drake wouldn’t let me. House Beaumont needed my help. I didn’t care about clearing my name after the scandal. I thought you and I were over.Drake and I started to spend time together while we were traveling from house to house. Things just... happened. When we got engaged, I ended it with Drake.”

I took a deep breath knowing the worst was yet to come.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Liam whispered. “I didn’t want to hurt you and neither did Drake.” I could feel the sting of tears threatening to fall. My usual stoic face failing me miserably. My face was expressing every emotion I was feeling in the moment. Liam was reading me like a book, I could feel it.

“You didn’t want to hurt me Riley, really? That’s the best you’ve got?” Liam waited for my response that didn’t come. “What about our children? Or are they even mine?” I felt like he had ripped a knife through my heart with his words. As quickly as the sadness came, the rage followed right behind. I jumped to my feet. I felt my hand raise and make contact with his stubbled cheek. My palms stung from the force behind the swing of my arm.

I ran to the small bedroom on the jet and shut the door behind me. I sank to the floor with my back against the door. I knew it was my fault. Liam had every right to feel the way he felt. The sobs and convulsions overcame me until I was laying on the floor drifting to sleep.

I could vaguely feel the door being nudged open and pushing me further away from the door. I’m completely delirious and groggy from crying myself to sleep on the floor. I felt a set of strong arms lift me from the floor by my shoulders and my knees and place me gently on the bed. “Riley?” I heard my husband whisper. I felt the bed sink down beside me as he climbed on next to me. I opened my eyes slightly, the room was dark but I could still make out Liam’s blue eyes. The darkness had left his eyes making them crystal blue again, his cheeks were tear stained from his own tears that he shed.

“I’m so sorry, Riley, I shouldn’t have questioned Eleanor and William’s paternity.” Liam murmured. I felt the tears return to my eyes, a knot formed in my throat as I remembered his words that broke my heart. “I’m so sorry Liam.” Liam crashed his supple lips onto my dry chapped lips. My arms instantly came around his neck and pulled him closer. He shifted his body on top of mine and pulled my knees apart with his. “I don’t want to talk anymore.” Liam whispered against my lips. His tongue gained entrance into my mouth, his familiar taste sent a tingle down my spine. He kissed me with a hunger I’d never felt from him before. It was a need more than a want. I tugged his t-shirt over his head revealing his soft abs, they weren’t as defined as they were five years ago but still prominent.

Liam moved his lips to my neck, he always found the spot that drove me crazy. He intentionally made sure not to kiss me in the spot I loved so much. His hands roamed every curve of my body looking for any exposed skin. “Liam..” I moaned at the sensations he was giving me. “Stand up” Liam growled. I stood from the bed in confusion. He stood in front of me. He placed his hands on either side of the zipper and pulled until I heard the fabric ripping into shreds. “Did Drake do this?”

I stepped back from him in nothing but my bra and plain white thong. “What did you say?” I asked, in my mind I imagined what Liam had just asked. Liam stepped toward me and gripped my hips tightly. “Did Drake make love to you like this?” He asked again. “What, Liam, no… why… why would you ask me that?” “What does he have that I don’t?” The anger started to boil in my veins. “I’m not doing this.” I snapped. “So you’ll make love to your husband’s best friend? But not your husband?” Liam snapped back. I picked his t-shirt up from the floor and threw it on over my head. “I never made love to Drake, Liam. I love you.” “You never made love to him? I was there Riley. I heard everything that happened inside of his hotel room.” Liam’s voice raised an octave.

“I fucked him, Liam. I never made love to him.” My heart shattered at the words I had said, knowing they weren’t true. I loved Liam and I loved Drake in different ways. Liam sat on the bed with his head in his hands. “How could you do this to us?” His deep baritone voice shook.

“Your Majesties, we are beginning our descent into Cordonia, please take your seats and fasten your seat belts.” The pilot came over the intercom.

Liam sniffled and attempted to stop his tears at the destruction I had caused. “We will finish this later. Drake has been banned from the palace upon our return.”

“Does Lindsay know?” Liam shot a look of disgust in my direction. “I suggest you worry about the damage you’ve caused your family and kingdom before you worry about his family.”

I took my seat, fastened my lap belt and lowered my head. Liam was right.

#choices #playchoices #choicesfanfiction #theroyalromance #theroyalheir #fanfiction #fanfictionwriter #ff #livingproof #liamxmc #liamxdrake

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mrsdr-ethan-ramsey · 5 years ago

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God, Have Mercy pt. 2 (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

You all asked, and now you shall receive...here is part 2 to God, Have Mercy (linked if you haven’t read it). I hope y’all like it part 2! I loved writing Ethan and his father. Part 3?? Yes please? No, stop you’re butchering this idea? What do y’all think?

Part Three Here!

Tag List: @the-soot-sprite @ethandaddyramsey @silverlitskies @trappedinfandoms @samihatuli @sherlockedmcu @marywitchjane @awalker965 @openheart12 @flyawayboo @hatescapsicum @edith-eggs1 @princess-geek @akacalliope @my-heart-beats-for-ya @hipstercoffeeshop @miyakokurono @riverrune @chasingrobbie @sekizincimektup @canthandlechoices @thatysn @virtualrain202 @myusualnerdyself

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Parker Kennedy)

Summary: Ethan posts his first pictagram thanks to his father’s photography skills and Parker knows it was meant for her.

Warnings: Swear words?

Word Count: ~1300

Ethan never expected to actual use his new social media account. He had intended to delete it as soon as he got what he needed from it, but now? He could see the perks of social media. One of them being, seeing all the photos Parker would post. Since the ‘incident’ in his office, Ethan became addicted to checking the website just to see if she had posted anything else. Nothing since that day. Deciding that he needed a distraction, Ethan made the snap decision to visit his father for the weekend. Hopefully the distance from Parker would clear his mind.

Ethan arrived in Providence late on Friday night, in time to talk to his father before they both went to bed. He had spent most of Saturday helping his father with projects around the beach house and cleaning up the space. Since Ethan left and his father was living on his own, he had gotten better about keeping the house tidy but Ethan would always clean when he would visit. There was always something worn or broken for him to help. It was the least he could do for him.

On Sunday morning, Ethan woke up early as usual. His father was already up, as when he went to the kitchen the coffee pot was freshly brewed. Pouring himself a cup, Ethan went outside where his father was sitting on the porch drinking his own cup of coffee like he did every morning. This was always the highlight of Ethan’s trips home, just sitting with his father in the morning simply enjoying that they were together.

“Good morning,” Ethan said, his voice gruff from just waking up. He sat down in the chair next to his father, relaxing back into it.

“Good morning Ethan,” Alan replied, eyes staying on the waves rolling in from the ocean.

They stayed quiet for a while, letting the sound of crashing waves be the only thing to listen to. It was peaceful, completely different than the usual sounds of Boston traffic that Ethan listened to in the morning. Ethan’s eyes stayed on the horizon as he brought his mug to his lips, not expecting the next words out of his father’s mouth.

“So Ethan…when are you going to settle down?”

For the second time this week Ethan coughed out his coffee, the brown liquid landing on his lap and the deck this time (instead of the picture of Parker practically naked...great now he was thinking about that again).

“What??” he choked out, his head snapping to face his father.

Alan chucked as he watched his son’s eyes widen, a red tinge coming to his cheeks. “You’re 37, don’t you think it’s time you found someone? Unless…you already have someone?”

“No.”

Ethan said it too quickly, making his father just smirk and turn back to the view. Ethan tried to clean the coffee of his pants as his father spoke.

“Not even that colleague of yours? The blonde you call Rookie?”

“I’m her boss, it would be inappropriate.”

“Plenty of colleagues date Ethan. It sounds to me like you’re just making excuses,” Alan argued, taking a long drink from his mug.

Ethan narrowed his eyes at his dad, shaking his head he replied, “I’m not making excuses. It could hurt her future career if anything happened between us. I need to be able to push her professionally.”

“So we should set you up on online dating?”

Thankfully Ethan wasn’t drinking because he knew he would have coughed up his drink, again. Online dating?? What was his father doing in his free time? Reading Cosmo?

“I am not doing online dating,” Ethan said flatly, trying to deter his father from the idea.

“And why not?”

“I will not use the internet to date. The internet is for research, not relationships.”

“Well, if you change your mind…”

Ethan’s phone buzzed in his pocket as father put his own down. As he unlocked it, he had several photos of himself sent from his father. They were all taken here, in Providence, but he couldn’t remember him taking any of the pictures.

“When did you take these?!” Ethan asked, scrolling through what he had sent. He had never seen these photos before.

Alan shrugged, “I knew you wouldn’t let me take photos of your visits so I did it when you weren’t paying attention. Figured I could create a…oh what’s it called…Timber?”

“Tinder.”

Alan smiled, “That’s it! I figured I could make a Tinder account for you to find someone to introduce you to. That was until I thought you’d probably want someone in the Boston area.”

“You were going to steal my identity to find me a partner?” Ethan asked, completely baffled that his father was admitting this to him.

��I figured one of us should be trying to get you a spouse. I’m getting old Ethan and I want grandchildr-”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Ethan cut him off and put his phone away. He wasn’t going to entertain the idea of him being in a relationship with his father. He wouldn’t use those photos to create a Tinder, but as he looked through them some more...maybe they could be useful.

***** “Holy moly!! Ethan has a pictagram! I repeat, Ethan Ramsey has a pictagram!” Sienna shouted as she ran out of her room and into the living room where Parker and Elijah were currently watching Spider-Man: Far from Home. Parker tried to look shocked, like she hadn’t been there to help him set up the account.

“What??” Elijah asked, his jaw dropping as he paused the movie.

“He has a pictagram! Danny texted me that everyone in the hospital is talking about it! He even posted!” Sienna said rather loudly, causing Jackie and Aurora to join the other roommates in the living room.

Jackie cocked a brow, “You’re kidding, right?”

“No! Go look up @ethan-ramsey!”

Each of the roommates pulled out their devices, searching the username in the app. When Parker’s timeline finally loaded her eyes widened. Holy. Shit. There in all his shirtless glory was Ethan Freaking Ramsey at the top of her page. Scrolling through the likes and comments, it was obvious that all of the hospital and more had found his account. He had blown up with one post. How was that even possible!?, Parker thought to herself as she scanned every inch of Ethan’s bare chest. He looked more relaxed than Parker had seen him in a long time.

“Look at all those thirsty comments…” Jackie mumbled.

Aurora read aloud, “ ‘I would catch a disease just to see this doctor’. Who comes up with this stuff??”

Parker could practically feel herself turn green. She had never been one to get jealous, but see all the people throwing themselves at Ethan made her only see green. She had always known that Ethan could get anyone he wanted, but this just made it way more obvious to her. Ethan Ramsey could honest to God get any man or woman he wanted.

“Huh,” Elijah said with a furrowed brow. “He’s only following one person, but I can’t see who it is.”

“I-It’s probably Edenbrook,” Parker said quickly, trying to control the color in her cheeks. She knew it was her profile, but she couldn’t tell her roommates that.

Sienna eyed her, thinking about the recent photo Parker posted on her pictagram. Parker could see her connecting the dots in her head. She quickly shook her head no at her, begging her not to say anything to the others. Parker could handle Sienna knowing, but she didn’t feeling like airing her dirty laundry to the rest of them.

“Yeah, it probably is,” Sienna agreed slowly. She sent Parker a look though, telling her that she’d have to give her all the details about why Ethan Ramsey was following her later.

The excitement of the event quickly went away and everyone returned to what they had been doing before Sienna had run out. Everyone except Parker. She looked at the image, imagining being there with him. The wind blowing through his thick hair, the smell of salt in the air. He looked like an angel. Parker chewed at her bottom lip as she thought. Did he post this as a reply to her photo? He must have…he said he didn’t want to post anything. Now he was on his way to be as famous as Bryce on pictagram. If this was how he was going to be, Parker could easily keep up with him. She smirked as she double tapped the image, a red heart covering his chest. Game on Ramsey. Game on.

#choices #choices stories you play #play choices #choices open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #parker kennedy #parker kennedy x ethan ramsey #open heart #open heart fanfiction #open heart 2 #oph 2 #oph #choices oph2 #playchoices #dr ethan ramsey

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inkedstarlight · 4 years ago

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Bittersweet: Chapter 7

Summary: Finals are rapidly approaching and after the events that occurred at Thanksgiving, Nesta is having a hard time focusing. With her new job at Rita’s and classes, she’s exhausted. Tomas has been helping her study for the exam but with the exam just days away, Nesta is still nowhere near prepared. She reaches her last resort which is to get the answers to the exam from her T.A., Tomas. It doesn’t go as planned. Notes: Read it here on AO3! Warnings: explicit descriptions of sexual violence (please don’t read if that is triggering for you; you’re your number one priority) Bittersweet Masterlist

December

After the disaster that was Thanksgiving, Nesta turned all her attention to classes. Finals were rapidly approaching which was a good enough excuse as any to skip those damn dinners. It certainly didn’t stop Elain from inviting her, but Feyre on the other hand? She expressed no interest in Nesta’s sudden absence. In fact, Nesta imagined her sister breathing a sigh of relief every time she told her she wouldn’t be coming.

Something ugly planted itself within her after the events that transpired just two weeks ago. It churned in the pit of her stomach. It was as if her insides were being twisted inside out. And she couldn’t seem to place the emotion. Anger? Guilt? Embarrassment? All the above?

Either way, she was too busy to think much about it. With finals and her new job, Nesta’s schedule was jam packed every week. She wasn’t complaining. She savored it. She was never left alone with her thoughts. There was always something to do and since all the work exhausted her, she no longer had trouble falling asleep.

After applying to Rita’s, she heard back from them a week later.

Nesta,

Thank you for your application. It’s always exciting to hire a new employee, and I was especially ecstatic when I discovered you were Feyre’s sister. That little rag-tag group stole my heart.

After reading through your resume, I would love for you to be part of our little team here at Rita’s. I’m not one for interviews (they’re pretty pointless if you ask me), so just let me know when you’re able to start. My family and I are on vacation until the 29th. I’m looking forward to meeting you.

Best, Rita

And with that, Nesta was no longer unemployed.

----------------------------

She started just a couple days following Thanksgiving. Rita had closed down the bar for the holiday, she and her wife leaving town for an annual vacation. According to Feyre, Rita only took off two weeks in the year. And since her family didn’t celebrate Christmas, those two weeks were reserved for Thanksgiving.

Nesta barely slept the night before her first day. She hated new places, new people. New jobs. It was all just… a lot to take in. But she showed up the next day, her anxiety hidden behind a confident stride and a professional attitude.

Right off the bat, Nesta noticed the welcoming atmosphere of the bar. It was a bit rustic, the wooden tables and chairs worn. The vintage bulbs that hung from the ceiling provided warm, dim lighting. The high chairs that sat in front of the bar counter were cushioned with plush, deep red fabric. Nesta looked around the walls to admire the art. She noticed upon closer glance that they all had names of local artists next to their respective work. The small space was elegant, inviting, homey.

Rita didn’t hesitate as she walked up to Nesta and gave her a hug. She stiffened, unaccustomed to physical touch of any kind – much less from a stranger. Rita seemed to read the room and retracted her arms with an apologetic smile.

“Forgive my wife,” a voice said from behind Rita. Nesta looked up to see a blonde woman smiling. Not at her, but at Rita. “She doesn’t have any sense of personal space.”

Nesta watched, amused as Rita stuck her tongue out at her wife. Turning back to Nesta, she waved her hand. “Forgive her. She’s just jealous.”

That seemed to be a good enough icebreaker as any. After being introduced, Rita led Nesta behind the bar. The next hour was spent training. Rita told her how she began her business, the bar’s signature drinks, and the other employees who worked there. Apparently, there were only four bartenders excluding herself: Emerie, Helion, Viviane, and Thesan. It had been an hour before open when Nesta had arrived and by the time the clock hit five, Nesta was pretty confident in her drink-making skills. But that wasn’t what she was worried about; it was more the whole “costumer service" thing. To say the least, Nesta lacked people skills. She had no problem calling people out on their shit, and she was going to have to learn how to keep her mouth shut in front of customers. Gods only knew how angry Rita would be.

That anxiety dissipated when one of the workers, Emerie, clocked in. She strode in confidently, her gaze unwavering as she approached Nesta.

“Three things you need to know. First thing, don’t ask me to cover your shift unless you’re dying or you win two tickets to a Beyonce concert, in which case I’m coming. Second of all, wear a lower cut shirt next time. Men are disgusting and won’t spare a look at you unless you flash a little cleavage.”

Nesta crossed her arms. “And the third?”

Emerie pointed to a board behind them, one that Nesta hadn’t noticed when she walked in. “We have a competition going on to see who earns the most tips. Lucky for you, we just started last week. The winner gets full control of the music for a month and as many rounds of drinks they can handle paid in full by the losers. So,” Emerie appraised her, “don’t fall behind.”

Nesta inwardly laughed at the woman’s attempt to intimidate her, especially considering she was a good foot shorter than her. Little did Emerie know, Nesta was competitive as fuck and she would do anything to win. Especially if there was alcohol involved. She smirked. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”

Emerie blinked at her in surprise. Nesta just held her stare.

Then, Emerie’s lips broke into a smile. “Oh, I’m going to like you.”

-------------------------------------------

Since their first meeting, Nesta and Tomas had studied together about once a week. If Nesta was being honest, she would have completely forgotten about finals if Tomas hadn’t offered to help her study. Her mind was preoccupied with all the other shit going on in her life, and the only reason Nesta hadn’t yet failed that class was thanks to Tomas. She was baffled at his reputation as an asshole T.A.; he’d been nothing but resourceful to her since the beginning of the semester.

At least the job at Rita’s was going well. She liked all her coworkers for the most part. Helion was loud. Viviane was sassy. Thesan kept to himself. Emerie was her favorite. Nesta learned that she had been working there since its beginnings. Apparently, Rita and her wife took her in when she was young, and they’d been like family ever since. Nesta and her couldn’t be more similar. They would complain about customers before they even turned their back. Both of them were no-nonsense women who didn't tolerate bullshit. They were both suckers for romance novels and had a large distaste for country music. And most importantly, they bonded over their hatred for the same people.

It made for the perfect friendship.

But her job was only taking away time that she needed to utilize for academia. Despite Nesta’s efforts to study for the gods-damn exam, she wasn’t prepared in the slightest. During their sessions, she could barely focus. Tomas’s words went in one ear and out the other. When he gave her extra work, she rarely did it. Her mind was scattered; it was as if she was sleepwalking through her days. Wake up, go to class, work, study, sleep. Rinse and repeat. Nesta was exhausted.

So, with the exam just three days away, Nesta didn’t have any other options. She couldn’t fail this course and jeopardize her education.

Her plan was simple. T.A.’s had access to exam answers. Tomas was a T.A. All she needed to do was get those answers from him in one way or another.

The idea had been swirling around in her head for the past week, but she’d always shoved it to the background when it surfaced. After all, it was her last resort. Nesta didn’t cheat. In fact, she despised when people took credit for doing jackshit. It was hypocritical, and yet...

I can’t fail. Not again.

It wasn’t like it would be hard either. She didn’t have to do much to get Tomas’s attention. That first day she'd introduced herself after class, it was impossible to miss the way his eyes flicked down to her chest every few minutes. Add to that a lip bite and a suggestive glance, and those answers would be hers.

What could she say? Men were simple like that.

------------------------------------------

It was Tuesday, Nesta and Tomas's last study session before the exam.

As Nesta sat at the table eating dinner, which consisted of a cup of coffee and a granola bar, her phone vibrated beside her. Picking it up, she saw Tomas’s name flash across the screen as she received his text.

Hey – my roommate had to borrow my car so I can’t meet you at the library. How about we study at my place?

Nesta smirked. Gods, he made it so easy.

What’s your address?

Nesta retreated to her room and opened her closet. Glancing at the time, she hurried as she grabbed the most provocative outfit she could find. She threw on a lacy, long-sleeve bodysuit that molded to her every curve. Stepping into a skirt, Nesta had to shimmy her hips to pull the tight fabric up, covering only a couple inches of her upper thigh. With a couple flicks of her wrist, she adjusted her makeup and fluffed her hair.

Nesta spared a glance at the mirror. She grinned.

There was no way she would be leaving his place without those answers tonight.

Nesta shoved on a pair of booties and gathered her things. She quickly shut the bedroom door behind her.

“Ooooh!” Elain peered over the couch as Nesta beelined for the front door, her heels clicking loudly on the hardwood floor. “Special occasion?”

Nesta didn't respond.

But Elain didn’t take to being ignored.

Nesta watched as she pulled herself off the couch and faced her with a sly grin. “Hot date?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “I’m going to Tomas’s to study for my exam.”

Elain nodded her head, shooting a look at her that said, Sure, you are.

Nesta ignored her again, not slowing down.

“Should I expect you to return tonight?”

“Mind your business, Elain. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“Be safe!” Elain called as Nesta hurriedly walked out of the apartment.

-------------------------------------------

When Nesta pulled into his gravel driveway, there weren’t any lights on, save for one on the first floor. She noticed his parked car.

Weird.

Nesta didn’t bother questioning it, though. Her stomach was already a bundle of nerves. Fidgeting in the skintight skirt, she tugged it down an inch so the neighbors wouldn’t look out the window and catch a free showing.

Gods, what am I doing?

Every step she took closer to Tomas's house, the further her heart sunk. It's not like she wanted to do this. But Nesta didn't have any other options. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and she was the one who put herself in that situation to begin with. So it was going to be her who got herself out of it.

You're going to hate yourself if you do this, a voice warned inside her head.

She shoved away the thought.

Even though her heart raced as she approached the front door, her strut was strong and confident. She didn’t falter for a step.

Nesta released a shaky breath and composed herself. She knocked once and the door was already opening.

“Nesta,” Tomas greeted her, eyes roaming over her body. He wore a polo shirt and sweatpants. She wasn’t sure if she shivered from the numbing winter air or his raunchy gaze. Nesta stifled the urge to zip her jacket all the way to her neck. “I’m glad you made it.”

Nesta pushed past the desire to say fuck it. To just go back home and accept the fact that she was going to fail. Instead, she plastered on a charming smile and giggled softly. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He led her inside. As she followed him, she caught a whiff of something strong. Vodka? Rum? She wasn't sure. But it was coming from Tomas.

Why the fuck did he drink when we're about to study?

They walked past the kitchen table. Nesta faltered.

“Aren’t we going to study here?”

Tomas looked over his shoulder with an easy smile. “I figured we could do it in my bedroom. It’ll be more comfortable anyway.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond as he kept walking. Nesta followed him reluctantly. She wanted to seduce him, sure, but there was no way in hell she was going to fuck him for the answers. She wasn't going to go that far.

“Welcome to the man cave.” He gestured to his room.

Nesta rolled her eyes inwardly. Man cave? Really? Gods, men are insufferable.

When she took a step in, she was assaulted by the overwhelming scent of men’s cologne. She stifled the urge to cough. His room was cramped; there was barely any space to walk. The comforter was brown, along with his pillows and walls.

Nesta hated brown.

The one thing she noticed was none of Tomas’s textbooks were out. In fact, his backpack was shoved in the corner.

“So where -"

Nesta was cut off when she felt Tomas directly behind her.

She spun around to face him. That's when she noticed his eyes. They were red-rimmed and glossy.

He hadn't just had one drink. He was drunk.

“Damn, girl," Tomas leered, taking a step closer to her. Nesta took a step back, trying to keep distance between them. "I thought it was going to take a little more effort than this to get you into my bed, but then you showed up dressed like that."

What the fuck?

“I think there was a misunderstanding –"

“Oh, trust me, I don’t think that’s the case.” Then Tomas's arm was around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Nesta tried to back away, but he only held her closer. His grip was tight. Too tight to shove him off.

“Tomas, no – “

“Aw, you don’t mean that, baby. I see the way you look at me.” His mouth pressed against her ear, his hot breath enough to make Nesta gag. “You’ve wanted this for a long, long time. Just as long as I have."

Nesta scanned his room frantically. There were no windows. His bedroom door was closed. And locked.

That’s when she started to panic.

"Can we just talk for a minute?" She willed her voice not to shake. Maybe if she remained calm, tried to reason with him -

Nesta cried out in pain as Tomas pushed her onto the bed. Hard.

"Please, stop!"

Tomas paid no mind to her pleas as he straddled her waist before she had the chance to get up. Nesta could only look at him with wide eyes as he loomed over her. Fear crawled its way up her throat at the look he was giving her. He placed a damp hand on her hip, his nails digging into her skin. He slid his hand further up, past her stomach until -

No, no, no nononono.

Tomas palmed her breast over her shirt, squeezing so hard that tears spilled over Nesta's cheeks. She tried to kick her legs but he was so heavy, too heavy. His weight was suffocating, her breathing was rapid and her heart was pounding and she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think; what should she do, what should she do, what should she do -

His lips slammed down on hers. Her cry was silenced. Tomas tried to shove his tongue into her mouth, but Nesta kept her lips closed as she squirmed underneath him and kicked her legs. But he remained on top of her. He wasn't budging.

"Open your fucking mouth," he growled against her lips. Nesta sobbed as she kept fighting to get him off her. He kept moving his mouth against hers, forcefully trying to open her mouth until Nesta bit down on his lip as hard as she possibly could.

Tomas reeled back with a hiss and touched his lip with a hand. When he withdrew it, blood shone on his finger. He glared at her. "You bitch."

Nesta didn't see his palm coming until she felt the sharp slap on her cheek, her head snapping to the side from the sheer force. The wind was knocked out of her. She felt paralyzed, helpless.

Nesta was motionless under him as his mouth dragged along her bared neck. He sucked on her skin hard even to bruise. Another sob escaped her clenched teeth. Her fists were balled tightly, a scream trapped in her. Bile rose in her throat when Tomas rubbed himself against her. She felt his erection press hard against her stomach, and she nearly threw up right there. His hands fell to the fabric of her skirt as he began to hike it up to her hips.

Something within her snapped.

Nesta didn't know what happened next. All she knew was her fist was burning with pain and she was shoving Tomas off her, sprinting for the door, racing through the house. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins as she heard Tomas yell her name behind her but she was too fast. He was too far behind.

She didn't stop running until she fell into the driver's seat of her car. She didn't bother buckling her seat belt as she peeled out of his driveway.

Sometime along the way home, Nesta stopped shaking. Her tears dried. Her heart stopped pounding. Her thoughts disappeared until she was left only with a silent mind and an empty feeling.

Nesta stared at the road in front of her, and she happily invited the feeling of numbness as it flooded into her body.

---------------------------------

tag list (let me know if you want to be added/removed):

@sjmships @sleeping-and-books @sirgwaines @books-for-sure @blowing-mikey @b00kworm @wineywitch202 @drielecarla @liquifyme @gisellefigue08 @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @loysydark @stardelia @sayosdreams @maastrash @superspiritfestival @courtofjurdan @ireallyshouldsleeprn

#bittersweet #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #My writing #acotar #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of war and ruin #a court of silver flames #angst #fanfiction #Fic

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 5 years ago

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Reality Check-Euphoria Imagine

Requested: No Warnings: mentions of trauma and a scene of an attempted sexual assault

A/N: I’m back from a super long break! I am so sorry I have not been able to update this blog since I started grad school but I have a bit of a break to write a bit. I just finished Euphoria so after this imagine, I’ll get started on the requests.

I own nothing from Euphoria and do not claim to own anything

Gif is from:geek-ramblings

Everything in italics in the story is Rue’s narration

Y/N Y/L/N wanted to be a princess for as long as she could remember. It didn’t hurt that every Disney movie and other piece of media designed for little girls endorsed this dream. One of those movies was the 1997 Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella starring Whitney Houston, Brandi, Whoopi Goldberg, and Victor Garber. It was the first time Y/N saw a princess who looked like her and it solidified that her dreams were possible. She watched that movie every day for three years and knows the soundtrack by heart. When her older cousin, McKay, irritated her, she would belt “Impossible/It’s Possible” at the top of her lungs in retaliation. While McKay was pushed to his limits on the football field, Y/N would twirl around in her living room during the ballroom sequence, pretending as though she had a dashing partner who would whisk her away. Her parents didn’t mind this dream since it suggested that she was as “normal” as a little girl could be. Eventually, Y/N’s mother put her in dance classes so that she could learn how to be graceful and dance with real people. Y/N fell in love with dancing since it gave her a way to express herself without speaking. Y/N was one of the sweetest people ever, but she was so shy and nervous, and I didn’t get it. Once she got comfortable, she actually had some things to say and a decent sense of humor. What she rarely let anyone know was she still dreamed of finding her prince, even though East Highland was overrun with frogs. In middle school, Y/N focused on studying and dancing while everyone else was practice dating (ie talking for a few hours on Facebook Messenger and avoiding eye contact in the hallway save a few nervous glances). She was hopeful that she would meet her prince in high school since that’s how it worked in the movies and what her older cousins had her believe. Y/N learned quickly that high was not like the movies and did not entertain herself with frivolous things, something Maddy called her out on at lunch one day.

“I’m right so don’t even try to fight me about it,” Maddy affirmed from across the table.

The cafeteria was busy and smelled of semi-fresh food and bubblegum. Y/N, Maddy, Cassie, BB, and Kat sat at their usual table. Y/N paused mid-bite into her cucumber sandwich and closed her mouth as soon as she realized it was hanging open.

“What?”

“You don’t do anything outside of school and dance team unless we drag you out and that needs to change,” Maddy insisted.

“I do other things,” Y/N said hesitantly.

“Yeah, like what? And it can’t be anything that you would use for college!”

Y/N racked her brain for a few moments. “Well, I watch movies and I read----”

“Fun things!” Maddy interrupted.

“Like gettin’ d-ck,” BB added.

Y/N’s face warmed up and she looked away from BB. “B, why’d you have to say it like that?”

“Well, at the end of the day, all that romance sh-t you’re into is just a pretty form of foreplay.”

“No, it’s not, they’re displays of affection and they’re beautiful. I know you all think romance is dead but I can’t and I don’t want to settle for that.” Y/N nodded her head in the direction of a table of guys who were concocting potions by mixing up the lunch of day with milk.

Cassie grabbed Y/N’s hand. “No one would expect you of all people to settle, but you haven’t dated anyone and there are some good guys in this town if not in this school. We just want to see you happy.”

Y/N could tell that Cassie was being sincere by the look in her eyes, all her friends were, but they also knew why Y/N behaved a certain way. The summer before eighth grade, Y/N saw the texts on her mom’s phone between her and a man that was not Y/N’s dad. It sickened her to her core, and she had no idea how to process it. Suddenly, her parents’ nightly arguments coupled with her mother’s late returns from nights out with “a friend” made more sense. She did not tell either of them that she knew and kept quiet about it. If she did not acknowledge it, she thought it would go away. She threw herself into dancing and studying, which did not raise any eyebrows. One night, Y/N, Maddy, Cassie, Lexi, and I went to the movies to see a Twilight movie. When she stepped out to get a popcorn refill, she saw her mother standing on the other side of the theater, smiling and flirting with a man who had to be in his seventies. Y/N managed to keep it together until we got back to Cassie and Lexie’s, where she broke down and told us everything. We hugged her and tried to calm her down, but there was nothing we could say that would repair her heart. Y/N’s mom officially stopped cheating when Y/N was fifteen but by then, the damage was already done. Her parents wanted to work on their marriage but neglected their child’s emotional and mental wellbeing since Y/N was so good and pretending she was fine. Her grades were excellent, she was the youngest co-captain of East Highland High’s dance team, and she stayed out of trouble. But if you really look at her, you can see the heartbreak in her big, coffee-colored eyes. Despite this, Y/N was convinced that there was a great guy out there for her, but she was extremely reluctant to date. She prayed that college would be better than high school and she would find the courage to date then.

“I love and appreciate your guys’ concern so much, but I am not about to give up my,” Y/N paused and glanced around the cafeteria before whispering, “virginity just to fit in, no offense.”

“Come on, Y/N, you may look and act all pure but you have to be dying to know what good d-ck feels like,” Maddy whined.

She had been, Y/N was human and not a total saint after all.

“I can wait, really.”

“So, have you just not been interested in any guys? I know plenty who are interested in you,” Cassie added.

“What?” Y/N was baffled by the loaded statement.

“Come on, Y/N, you know you’re hot,” Kat said.

“Your legs go up to your neck, Sis,” BB blurted as she nibbled on a Twizzler.

“Your face is basically perfectly symmetrical, it disgusts me,” Maddy said, emphasizing her statement with hand gestures.

Y/N chuckled nervously under the attention. “Thanks, guys.”

“But, is there anyone that interests you?”

Y/N glanced down at the tops of her metallic rose gold sandals. “No, not really.”

That was a total f-cking lie. Since fourth grade, Y/N harbored a crush on Nate that was fueled by when he shoved Caleb Parker after Caleb shoved Y/N during a game of tag in gym class. When Nate helped her stand on her feet, he was basically her knight in shining armor. Nate fit Y/N’s type perfectly: tall, dark hair, dark eyes, killer smile, and kind. Y/N never said anything, but anyone could tell just by observing the way she looked at him and the fact that she could never string together a decent sentence around him. This did not stop her from daydreaming about him and watching him from afar. She thought that maybe she could impress him with her dancing, and he would be forced to make a move. Y/N paid close attention to what Nate liked and disliked about girls, leading to religious mani-pedis and waxing. I tried to talk her out of it freshman year, but I can’t blame her for ignoring a junkie’s advice. When Maddy and Nate started dating, Y/N tried to cut off her attraction to Nate because she loved Maddy like a sister. She stopped pining after him but wished that she had a tenth of the confidence Maddy had.

“That’s it, we’re going to a party on Friday and you are going to meet a guy,” Maddy demanded.

“What?”

“Relax, you don’t have to sleep with him…unless you want to.” BB wiggled her eyebrows and Maddy, Cassie, and Kat burst into giggles.

“I think I can start off with kissing.”

“Have you even kissed a guy?” BB shot back.

“Yes, I have.”

In second grade, Travis Williams was double-dared to kiss Y/N on the playground. She knew that he wasn’t her prince charming since he produced too much saliva, and he was dared to do it. It gave her a weird complex about how attractive she was since no one really approached her. Sure, there were guys at parties but they just wanted something warm to slide into, not a real relationship.

After practice, Y/N and Maddy sat across from each other with their legs spread out, pulling each other back and forth to stretch.

“You really went in with this number, my legs are still killing me,” Maddy moaned as Y/N tugged her hands.

“Well, Alia wants to do something super impressive for homecoming; it’s not my fault she was so inspired by Homecoming.” Y/N relaxed her back while Maddy gently pulled Y/N’s arms towards her.

She relished in the stretch as her muscles released. Alia had tasked her with working on the homecoming choreography a month ago and the only requirement was it had to be set to Beyoncé’s “Diva/Everybody Mad” mix. It was tricky choreography, complete with acrobatics and lifts, but it would be entertaining.

“Well, we better do Beyonce well because she deserves nothing but the best.” Maddy’s expression dropped.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N turned and saw Nate heading towards them. He was so gorgeous even though he was in a black t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. His hair looked perfect for finger-combing and Y/N could just see his muscles flexing with every step he took.

Y/N could never relax around Nate, even though she tried everything----slowing her breathing, counting backwards from twenty, and imagining him with food poisoning since no one looks good with that. But nothing worked, nothing ever worked, and she was forced to do whatever she could think of in the moment.

“Hey, Y/N,” Nate greeted.

“Hi,” Y/N breathed.

“Maddy,” he looked at her and Maddy rolled her eyes.

“What?”

“Are you done stretching? I’m giving you a ride and we can’t be late, remember?”

“Well, it doesn’t really matter since I always take too f-cking long to get ready.”

Nate sighed. “Maddy, I didn’t mean it…”

“I can go,” Y/N volunteered meekly, suddenly very aware that she was still sweaty from practice and needed to shower.

“No, Y/N, stay,” Maddy said, “stay so you can hear the bullsh-t he comes up with.”

They argued for about five minutes, all of which Y/N used to make herself as small as possible. She knew they had a dysfunctional relationship and that was the last thing Y/N wanted, she’d seen how they worked. If the couple weren’t arguing with each other, they would rant about the other person to a friend. Maddy did it all the time, but she was nowhere near as bad as Y/N’s dad. Her dad spoke explicitly about Y/N’s mother’s activities when things were really bad. It was always late at night and Y/N was not always sleeping over at someone’s house. Her father would rant for hours and force Y/N to sit there and listen. Whenever she tried to ask him to stop, he would say, “Tell your mother to stop, she did this. I didn’t do anything!”. Y/N cried a lot more than she would let anyone know. She wanted so badly to be whisked away from East Highland, preferably by a tall, handsome prince who would take care of all of her worries. She would be comfortable around him and feel loved. After Maddy and Nate’s argument, Y/N was able to slip away and go home.

Y/N stepped out of a relaxing shower when she heard the low rumbling that started before every argument. The walls of her room felt closer than usual and she could easily run her hands over the lavender and white checked wallpaper. Everything felt so far away and she felt much smaller than five-foot-nine. Y/N slowly curled into a ball on her bed and shook as the rumbling grew higher.

“Please stop,” she whispered.

It persisted.

“Please, please stop,” she repeated.

Y/N kept repeating herself for so long that she did not know how long it took before her parents burst into her room. Her mother wrapped her up in arms and rocked her while her dad tried to get her to talk.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

“The fighting, it’s loud,” she whispered.

“Well, you can’t react like this every time we have an argument, Y/N. You’ll fall apart as an adult,” Mr. Y/L/N affirmed.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Mrs. Y/L/N said and kissed her forehead.

When they left the room, Y/N felt dejected and uninterested in food. Just as she was about to start lotioning, her phone dinged. It was Maddy.

Maddy: Football party’s on Friday. UR GOING.

It wasn’t a difficult decision for Y/N to make. Her parents gave her a generous curfew since Y/N wouldn’t go out every weekend. But her parents didn’t care how she felt so they shouldn’t care about what she did for once. And if they didn’t care, then why should she? It wasn’t like she going to engage in an orgy or something.

Y/N: You had me at football.

Scott Callahan’s giant house was filled with smoke and strobing lights on Friday night. People were dancing and drinking half-naked in his front lawn and inside was another kind of pandemonium. There was every kind of expensive alcohol one could imagine scattered throughout the house, marijuana, Percocet, molly, and cocaine. Travis Scott’s “Sicko Mode” was blasting through the surround-sound speakers and people were either dancing, grinding, or making out to it. Y/N arrived at the party with Jules and Rue. Hours prior, Y/N gave Jules free reign to do whatever she wanted with her makeup.

“Ugh, I have been waiting ever since we met for this moment. No, maybe even before then,” Jules said as she swiped silver glitter around Y/N’s eyes.

Cassie, Maddy, BB, and Kat already helped Y/N pick out an outfit a day before via Facetime: a shiny silver mini dress with platforms. Y/N had been nervous as Jules helped her do her makeup and put some waves in her shoulder-length dark hair. But the finished product made her look like a totally different person.

“Is that me?” Y/N had whispered as she stared at herself in the mirror.

Jules rest her chin on Y/N’s shoulder. “Yes, it is, the shinier version.”

“You look good, Y/N,” Rue complimented.

“Thanks, Rue. Are you sure you’re okay with me drinking tonight? I feel so weird and guilty.”

“Yes, it’s fine,” Rue had insisted. “I just got out of rehab and I don’t wanna go back.”

“And I don’t want you to, either,” Jules added.

Y/N agreed.

Y/N still felt weird about drinking around Rue once they arrived at the party, but Rue insisted that Y/N and Jules have fun. Several guys stared as Y/N walked past, but that could have been attributed to Jules’ neon green corset dress with matching hair or Rue’s tie-dye ensemble. When they reached the kitchen, they found Kat and BB doing tequila shots. Their eyes lit up at the trio.

“Finally, you’re here!” Kat hugged Rue, Jules, and Y/N.

“Did you miss us?” Jules teased.

“Little bit. You guys want a shot?”

“I’m DD-ing, or DR-ing since it’s a bike,” Rue said.

“Or DB-ing, for bicycling,” Y/N added.

BB poured Jules and Y/N shots and handed them over. They cheered before downing the alcohol. The tequila burned down Y/N’s throat and Y/N fought the urge to cough. She’d had alcohol before but she did not drink as often as her friends. Y/N immediately felt the liquid courage coursing through her as she slid her shot glass towards BB.

“Another one?” BB arched an eyebrow.

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at all, you look hot by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“I did her makeup,” Jules said.

Y/N laughed and continued drinking.

I watched as her third shot became her fifth, and then Jules made them both screwdrivers and she made them strong. I’d only seen Y/N drunk once and that was at freshman winter formal. Maddy convinced her that Gatorade and Everclear were a good mix. She was tripping over herself for most of the night, so there was no telling what she might do.

“Crap, I forgot to tell you, Maddy and Nate broke up again,” Kat said.

“Why?” Y/N asked.

“Stupid same old bullsh-t, probably,” Rue said.

“Where is Maddy, anyway?”

“Last I knew, she was outside with Cassie,” BB said.

Y/N finished her screwdriver. “Let’s go, then.”

Y/N was surprisingly agile as she weaved her way through the crowd and lead the way outside. Maddy and Cassie were easy to spot since they were standing by the lounge chairs and rolling their eyes at every guy who tried to talk to them.

“Maddy, Cassie!” Y/N announced.

They both looked up and smiled at her.

“Y/N, you look amazing,” Cassie said.

“Thanks, and you look great as per usual.”

“You’ve been drinking,” Cassie said.

Y/N nodded.

Cassie and Maddy greeted Rue, Jules, Kat, and BB.

“Hey, I’m sorry about Nate,” Y/N said.

“It’s fine, I don’t need him and I could get any guy here I want. Besides, it gives me the chance to focus more on getting you a guy,” Maddy said.

“Oh, Maddy, don’t worry about me.”

“No, that’s why we’re here. Now, let’s do some shots and scope!”

The shots were easy but finding a good guy was not. Y/N was officially drunk and giggled a lot whenever the guys Maddy or Cassie found spoke to her. Y/N would push the guys she didn’t like away, which was the majority of them.

“Alright, you rejected eight dudes, why?” Maddy asked over City Girls’ “Act Up”.

“Well, one had horrible halitsosissss and another kept talking about how he had never been with a black girl before.”

“Which one said the last thing?” Cassie asked.

Y/N shrugged and drank more beer. “Seriously, do not worry about me, guys, I’m fine, I just wanna have fun.”

“Yes, fun!” an equally inebriated Jules commented.

At that moment, Lizzo’s “Truth Hurts” started playing and Jules and Y/N screamed in unison.

“I love this song!” Y/N exclaimed.

“Me too!” Jules said.

“Let’s dance!” Y/N turned to the rest of the girls and extended her hand. “You have to join us, it’s Lizzo, it’s basically law.”

“Yeah, basically law,” Jules echoed.

The others couldn’t argue, and they all moved to the dancefloor, which was really the living room. Jules twirled Rue around even though Rue was reluctant, and BB started grinding on some basketball player. Meanwhile, Maddy, Cassie, and Y/N alternated between shouting the lyrics and moving their hips to the beat.

Dance truly set Y/N free, but the song also helped. There was something about Lizzo’s voice and choice of beat that made Y/N want to dance and never stop. She would move her arms and hands and feel more fluid than water. For once, she wasn’t calculating each step and making sure she was on beat, she was simply reacting to the music.

Towards the end of the song, Y/N muttered that she was going outside to Cassie and slipped away from the circle. Y/N found herself enjoying the fresh air and giggled to herself when she saw a couple going to second base by the pool.

“Y/N, I didn’t think you was into watchin’ people,” Fez teased.

He was sitting on a beach chair in a corner a few yards away from the back door. He was wearing a navy, yellow, and red Coogi sweater with jeans. He was fully reclined in his chair and smoking a joint.

“You don’t know a lot of things about me,” Y/N shot back as she walked towards him.

She plopped down on the seat across from him and tried to steady herself.

“You good, Y/N?”

“Yeah, just drank a lot more than usual.” Y/N eyed Fez’s joint. “You know, in all this time I’ve known you, you’ve never offered me drugs.”

“No disrespect, I just didn’t think you’d be into it, didn’t seem like the type.”

“Oh yeah? Then what do I seem like?” Y/N leaned towards Fez and arched her back a little.

Fez blew some smoke away from Y/N and tried not to stare at her. “You…you look like the type to stay away from this stuff and even me.”

Y/N laughed and shooed the thought away. “How could I stay away from you, Fez? You have the best snacks at the gas station. Plus, I like talking to you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you have an interesting but simple way of looking at things.”

Fez looked as though he was thinking for a long moment as he smoked his joint. “I knew I liked you for a reason. You act all quiet and nervous usually but you got a lot to say and say it in a good way.” He extended the joint towards Y/N. “Be careful.”

Y/N focused as hard as she could to grab the joint with two fingers. She’d only smoked once with Rue and Rue was the one to drag her over to Fezco to get the weed. Y/N remembered coughing a lot, but she knew how to avoid that. She took two long drags before handing the joint back to Fez.

“Thanks, Fez. We should talk more later.”

“Sure, if you feelin’ up to it. I’m here all night.”

Y/N stumbled back into the house, her full intentions to find her friends. Then, she heard the beginning strains of Kanye West’s “Father Stretch My Hands Pt. 1” and she smiled to herself. She started spinning around in time to the music, twisting her arms up and down as she did. Her hips began to sway gently to the rhythm. She ran her hands through her hair and exhaled.

Y/N was lost again and wrapped up in the beat. She usually did not drop low outside of the comfort of her bedroom, but the alcohol mixed with the weed mixed with the great music made her think differently. She was free and everyone else around her was free. There was nothing to worry about and she could let go of her inhibitions. It didn’t matter that none of the guys at the party were her type nor really interested her, she was having too much fun. But little did Y/N know that someone had their eye on her since she started dancing to “Truth Hurts”.

Y/N felt someone push up against her from behind, followed by hands slink around her hips. Her eyes fluttered open and she covered the large hands with her own. “Sorry, I don’t----" She stopped when she made eye contact with Nate. “I’m high,” she muttered.

“I don’t know about that, but you’ve definitely been drinking.”

Y/N tried to ignore the way his gravelly voice made her stomach drop to her heels or how she felt like everything was throbbing. She shook her head and backed away from him. “I can’t…you just broke up with Maddy.”

“Y/N, please don’t.” Nate looked worried as he took cautious steps towards her.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, and everyone else, Nate had a fascination with her that bordered on obsession. He noticed her in fourth grade and how much she got excited about reading and history lessons. Even then, Nate thought Y/N was innocent and so quiet. He was curious about her but never really approached her until that day in gym. That day was a godsend so that he could show off how strong he was and get her to talk. All he got was a “Thanks” and “I’m okay”. Nate was disappointed, but he didn’t stop looking out for her. He made sure none of the football players went after her, which McKay appreciated but he thought Nate was doing it as a friend. No, Nate was doing it because he knew that football players were animals and Y/N was high above them. Maddy was too but Maddy was different .She was so much more confident and bold than Y/N was, and she was a virgin when Nate asked her out. But Maddy liked to fight with him and test him and Y/N wouldn’t do that----she was too sweet and would most likely want to resolve everything as quickly as possible. So, she was unofficially his and Y/N had no idea.

Y/N kept shaking her head as tears welled up in her eyes. “I can’t do this, Maddy’s like a sister to me.”

“Y/N, breathe, please.” Nate took another step and when Y/N didn’t move, he got close enough to grab her forearms and rub them soothingly. “You’re allowed to dance with me, all we did was dance.”

“That was not dancing, I’m a dancer, I would know.” Y/N tilted her head back to will the tears away.

“You look beautiful, seriously. Don’t cry.” He tried to touch her face, but Y/N backed away.

“Thank you, but I think we should stop talking.”

“You always look beautiful, especially when your hair is down, it frames your face nicely.” He brushed some hair off her shoulder.

“Nate, stop.�� A tear rolled down her cheek.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“I know you’re doing this to make Maddy jealous, it’s what you always do, it’s the same game!” Y/N cried, but it was masked by the music. “I’m…I’m not going to be your pawn in this weird game, Nate. I deserve better than that.”

Nate reached out and cupped the side of her face in one hand. “Oh, Y/N, you would never be a pawn and I’m not playing with you. Maddy’s not gonna care if you dance with me, she’s not even here.”

Y/N glanced around the room and didn’t see Maddy anywhere. She suddenly got a sinking feeling and looked back at Nate. “I’m just not comfortable with doing anything with you, she’s my friend.”

“And I would never want to ruin that and I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable; I just wanted a chance to dance with the prettiest girl at the party.”

Y/N snapped her eyes to him. “You think I’m the prettiest girl here?”

Nate nodded. “But if you don’t want to dance with me…”

“Fine, one dance.” Y/N held up her pointer finger for emphasis. “And we’re done.”

“Deal.”

“Good.”

The song changed to “One Dance” and Y/N was stiff for a moment. She never really did partner dancing and was lost. Nate sensed this, grabbed one of her hands, and spun her around. She laughed and swiveled her hips to the beat. Nate continued twirling her around and watched Y/N move to the music. When he spun her out again, Nate pulled her back in and held her close. Y/N did everything in her power to fight to gnawing desire to melt into his embrace. He felt so strong and protective. Y/N stared at the collar of his t-shirt to avoid eye contact and kept her hands on his chest.

“This isn’t fair,” she whispered.

“What isn’t fair?” “I’ve had a crush on you since elementary school and the time you decide you want me, it’s just after your break up with one of my best friends.” Y/N buried her head in her hands. “I’m such a bad friend, I should go.”

Nate held her there and stared her down. “Go and do what?”

“Um, find my friends.”

“And then what?”

“Dance?”

“Just like you’re dancing with me?”

“No, not this close and you know that.” Y/N stepped back. “We should stop.”

“But, you said you’ve liked me for a long time.”

“I did, but I want to be a good friend. I’m sorry, Nate.”

Y/N really didn’t want to, but she pulled away from Nate. She couldn’t believe she’d spent a whole song dancing so close with her friend’s ex. Maddy would kill her if she found out. Maybe if Y/N told her first, things would not be as bad.

“If we can’t dance, can we at least talk?”

Y/N hesitated but nodded slowly.

Nate grabbed her hand and led her upstairs. A few coked out people and couples pushed past them and Y/N felt more and more nervous. They found an empty bedroom and Nate closed the door behind them. The room was dark and Y/N found a light.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” she made herself comfortable on the bed.

Nate sat next to her and clasped his hands together. “Things with Maddy and me have always been f-ckin’ crazy and they will always be. She always wants to fight when there shouldn’t be a fight.”

“If you wanted to complain to someone about your ex, you could have found someone who wasn’t her friend.”

“Stop, what I’m saying is I don’t like it, it’s exhausting, and…and we bring out the worst in each other. But you, I don’t think you would do that to me.” He glanced down at Y/N’s hands. “You’re kind and you want the best for everyone.”

“I try.”

“You would never want to hurt anyone on purpose and you listen, you really listen, and I feel like I could tell you anything.”

Y/N nodded.

“The truth is, I’ve liked you since fourth grade too, but I never asked you out because you seemed disinterested.”

“How’d you get that?”

“Whenever I tried to talk to you, you wouldn’t talk and I thought that meant you didn’t like me. So, I started going out with Maddy because she was clear about that, but now, I think we could be something.”

“Just like that? But what about my friends? Maddy and I have the same friends and I don’t want to hurt Maddy.”

“You can make new friends and you’ll have me.” Nate leaned closer to Y/N. “C’mon, Y/N, you know you want this. You’re always thinking of other people, be selfish for once.”

In that strange bedroom, with the guy she had been crushing on for so long begging her to do something to him, Y/N was at an impasse. She loved Maddy like a sister and didn’t want to divide the group, but Nate was making so many good points. The only reason she did well in school was to please her parents and the only reason she would go out was to please her friends. She didn’t do anything to please herself and this was her chance.

Nate leaned closer to Y/N and looked up at her for confirmation. Y/N closed her eyes and relished in the feeling of Nate’s lips against hers. They were slightly chapped but he knew how to use them, applying pressure in the right places at the right times. His hands went to her waist and Y/N wrapped hers around his neck. He slid her into his lap and Y/N gasped.

“Did I scare you?” he whispered.

“A little,” Y/N murmured.

He rubbed her sides and kept kissing her, adding tongue. Y/N shyly tapped her tongue against his and he smirked into it. He rolled his hips underneath her and Y/N gasped at the shocking feeling, pulling away.

“Does it feel good?”

Y/N nodded.

“Say it.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, it feels good.”

Nate nipped at her neck and Y/N moaned out, grinding down on him. Nate’s hands tensed around her hips. “You’re so hot,” he whispered in her ear.

Y/N laughed.

“Seriously, I’ve thought about what this would be like, what we would be like.”

“And?”

“And, so far, it’s better than I thought.” He kissed down to her collarbone and palmed her chest. “I’ve thought about these.” “Really? But they’re so small.”

“No, they’re just right.” He bit the base of her neck and Y/N hissed. “I’ve also thought about your legs, how they distract me during practice when you guys are outside. They’re so soft but firm.”

Nate kissed her again and pinned her on the bed. Y/N gasped as she felt one of Nate’s hands trail up her dress. Her mind was jumbled up and she didn’t know what to think. Everything he did felt so good, he knew just where to kiss and nip. He looked at her with full-blown lust in his eyes. Maybe Y/N had finally found the prince she’d been waiting for, but he was always there.

Then, his hand went a little too high. She squirmed and shook her head.

“Nate, that’s a little too much.”

“What?”

“I said it’s a little too much,” she repeated louder.

“I thought you liked it, don’t you want this? Isn’t this what you’ve always thought about?” Nate tangled his hand in her underwear.

“Nate, stop, I don’t want to do this.”

“You weren’t acting that way earlier.”

“Nate, please, stop.”

“You don’t want me to stop.”

“Yes, I do, please!”

Y/N tried to push him away but Nate pinned her down. He rolled his hips into hers and Y/N turned away, tears falling down her cheeks.

“Do you feel how much I want you? I’d do just about anything to have you.”

“Nate, stop!”

“Shut up!” Nate growled.

One of his hands let go of her wrist and wrapped around her neck. He had a death grip on her neck and Y/N started gasping for air.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t want this? Like you weren’t dancing on me, begging for it? You were jealous that Maddy got me whenever she wanted. You wanted me all for yourself just like I want you.”

Y/N wanted to scream at him, tell him he was wrong about everything, but was he? When Maddy talked about sex with him, Y/N would feel pangs of guilt and jealousy for wanting to trade places with her. Most of all, she wanted Nate to get off her. She wanted Nate to leave her alone forever. When she looked at him, the sweet fourth grade boy was gone and replaced by a full grown monster. Why was she getting monsters when she wanted princes? What did she do to deserve this?

Nate unzipped his jeans and tears kept flowing down Y/N’s face, ruining Jules’ masterpiece. He kept his eyes trained on her and Y/N was losing oxygen, she couldn’t think to move any of her muscles. Just as he was about to push in her, someone banged on the door.

“Occupied!” Nate yelled over his shoulder.

“Whatever.”

Nate turned back and looked down at Y/N, shaking and crying. He leaned down and whispered, “Don’t make a sound.” He released his grasp on her neck and pinned her wrists again. Y/N’s throat felt numb and she couldn’t do anything. She inhaled through her nose and before Nate could thrust, she took gathered all her strength to knee him. Nate groaned and rolled onto his side, releasing her wrists. Y/N scrambled to her feet, unlocked the door, and ran outside. People in the hallway looked at her bewildered. Y/N nearly fell down the stairs and ran into Rue.

“Y/N, what happened?” she asked.

Y/N gasped for a moment before burying her face in Rue’s shoulder and crying, full-on, heaving, shoulder-shaking crying. Rue held her close and ran her hands through her hair. “Nate,” was the only word she managed to get out.

Before Rue could only see Red, Fez approached them. “Hey, I’m about to head out if you wanted a ride. What’s up?”

“I think Nate tried to do something to Y/N,” Rue whispered. “Y/N, could you look at me?”

Y/N straightened up and Rue and Fezco saw the handprints around her neck. Both of their expressions hardened.

“Where’s Maddy, Cassie, and Jules?” Rue asked.

“Right here,” Maddy said as they approached. Her eyes widened at Y/N. “Y/N, what the f-ck happened?”

Y/N swallowed but winced at the feeling. “Nate tried to rape me,” she rasped out.

In an instant, Fez and Rue handed Y/N over to Cassie, Maddy, and Jules. Y/N collapsed in their arms and continued crying.

“Honey, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” Cassie said.

“Breathe, Y/N, you need to breathe,” Jules muttered.

“I’m so sorry, Maddy, I’m so sorry,” Y/N said.

“No, don’t apologize,” Maddy insisted, stroking Y/N’s hair.

They cleared a couch for Y/N to rest and they continued trying to comfort her. A few seconds later, Nate came tumbling down the stairs, with Rue and Fezco on his heels. Rue was cursing at him while Fezco laid more punches on him. Nate’s face was already bruised and scratched up.

“It’s not my fault!” Nate spat out. “I told you, she came onto me, she’s been in love with me since fourth grade, she wanted this! Maddy, Y/N’s a bad friend, that’s not my fault.”

“Don’t even talk to me right now or I swear, Rue and Fezco will have to keep me from killing you,” Maddy hissed.

“I’m a bad friend,” Y/N whimpered.

“No, you’re not,” Maddy, Cassie, and Jules said.

“I liked him a lot, even when you dated, I liked him and then he…he came onto me, maybe I deserved it.”

“Y/N, no one deserves to get raped, no one, you did not ask for this,” Jules assured her.

Y/N turned to lay face up. “Why does everything hurt so much? I just wanted someone to like me since loving me is asking for too much.”

“No, it’s not,” Cassie hushed.

“And we love you,” Maddy said.

“I love you the most,” Jules said.

Y/N smiled slightly. “But you know what I mean.”

Y/N loved her friends and appreciated their love, but she wanted the fairytale. She’d convinced herself that maybe she would get some idea of that with Nate but she was so wrong. She wanted the dream and got a nightmare. It was a terrible f-cking way to learn how real life works, but it had to happen. Besides, we’re in high school and the love Y/N truly wanted was impossible to find in high school, especially East Highland. Y/N ended up pressing charges on Nate and that encouraged Maddy to open up about stuff he’d done to her during their relationship. Everything is different with Y/N now, I can see it in her eyes, they aren’t as bright as they used to be. Before the stuff with her mom, they would shimmer and after that, some glints remained. Now, it was like looking in a dark hole and I could guess what she was feeling since I’ve been in that place too----in fact, I’m still in it. I think the saddest part is she always had so much optimism and now it’s gone before she’s twenty and I don’t think she’ll get it back.

#euphoria imagine #angst imagine

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datheetjoella · 4 years ago

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Fantober 2020, Day 20: Proposal

Author: DatHeetJoella Fandom: Free! Pairing: MakoHaru Rating: T Part: 20/31 (read the full collection here) Word count: 1,999 Tags: Canonverse, Established Relationship, Fluff, Marriage Proposals, Lovers to Fiancés Read at: AO3, FFn, or right here!

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The cliff overlooking the sea, the starlit sky bursting with fireworks while pretty lanterns floated on the surface of the water behind them. The perfect backdrop for a meaningful, memorable moment. That was where it would happen; that was where Makoto was going to ask Haruka to marry him.

For as long as he could remember, Makoto had known he wanted to spend his whole life with Haruka. But it wasn't until they moved to Tokyo and started dating that this concept turned more feasible in his mind. Ever since it was possible, he wanted to marry Haruka, to be tied to him officially, together in every sense of the word. There were so many things that occupied their busy lives, though, that he didn't want to jump the gun and rush into marriage right away, while they were still in college. No, a wedding to celebrate their love deserved their undivided attention, therefore he chose to wait until the right time rolled around.

And that time had finally come: Haruka was thinking of retiring from swimming, they had their own place in Tokyo and their finances were in order. All that was left now was to propose to Haruka and then nothing would stand in their way - unless Haruka said no, but that wasn't even a possibility.

The instant he decided this was the summer for it to happen, the plan formed in his head. They were heading back to Iwatobi for Obon and what would be a better place to get engaged at than the cliff, that was not only beautiful, but had also seen both highs and lows? They'd watch the firework show there like they did every year and if Makoto timed what he prepared to say just right, the fireworks would explode behind them during their first kiss as fiancés.

On paper, it was a flawless plan, but there was one tiny part Makoto had overlooked: he was nervous beyond belief.

It started last night, as he tossed and turned in bed, unable to fall asleep. Throughout the day, he was jittery and could barely get a bite of food down his throat, which Haruka must've found suspicious because he otherwise had an appetite for ten, especially on festival days. And the ring he bought, a simple silver band with a small stone in the center, had been burning a hole in his pocket since he put the box in there this morning.

There was no way Haruka hadn't noticed his strange behaviour, but thankfully, he hadn't brought it up. If he had, Makoto would've cracked and proposed to him on the spot, plans be damned. That meant Haruka saw through him and knew what Makoto was going to ask him soon - which wasn't odd considering how in tune they were with each other - but let Makoto go through with whatever he had in mind. While he would've preferred if this would come as a complete surprise, he could never hide something as big as this from Haruka. So now, he hoped that the way he proposed and the things he'd say would be able to impress Haruka at least a little.

For the first time in twenty-five years, Makoto couldn't enjoy the festival like he usually did. As they strolled between the hoard of people, he kept practicing what he was going to say, afraid he'd forget something vital. Meanwhile, he did try his best to act like his natural self and guide Haruka over from one stall to the next. He bought some yakisoba for them to share like he usually did, but that didn't help clear the tension in his muscles either. Haruka was more quiet than normal too, so he probably noticed Makoto's predicament and left him to sort out his thoughts. That brought some comfort to his troubled mind. As always, Haruka was immensely considerate and if there were any doubts about his answer before, then they had vanished now.

When it was almost time for the fireworks to start, Makoto's heartbeat spiked. He took a deep breath to calm down, then he looked at Haruka. With a somewhat strained smile, he said, "Shall we go to the cliff to watch the fireworks?"

Haruka nodded and averted his head almost shyly, like they were teenagers on their first date. It did correspond to the giddiness Makoto felt because, in a way, he was about to confess his feelings to Haruka, though it was nothing he didn't know already. So he took Haruka's hand in his and led him through the crowd, up the steps towards their special place.

To Makoto's relief, no one in town had shared the idea to come here and they were alone. After all, this moment was designated for just the two of them.

"The view from here never ceases to amaze me," Makoto said as he leaned against the railing, "The ocean's already pretty, but the lanterns really are a sight to behold, huh?"

The nerves were taking over, making him spew nonsense and causing his hands to shake. He clenched his fingers around the railing. Although he wasn't quite sure what time it was and how much longer it took until the fireworks were lit, if Makoto waited any longer, he was going to combust.

"Haru, I-"

"Makoto-"

Simultaneously, they spoke and immediately shut their mouths again.

"Sorry, did you want to say something?" Makoto asked.

Haruka shook his head. "You go first."

Makoto nodded. Although he was curious as to what Haruka was going to say considering he hadn't spoken much yet, he was glad Haruka allowed him to talk first.

"I-um, you know. We've been coming here since we were little and…" Damn. Why couldn't he remember what he rehearsed? He took another deep breath in the hope the words would resurface. This was Haruka, so there was no reason to be this nervous. "Back then, I already knew that I wanted to be with you. I didn't know what exactly that meant, but I did know I was the happiest when you were by my side and after all these years, that hasn't changed a bit."

Feeling bold, Makoto turned to face Haruka and reclaimed his hold on his hands. Haruka's lips were parted ever so slightly with a sharp intake of breath, but he couldn't stop now. He had to lay his heart bare.

"There are many things that are uncertain in life, but there is one thing I know for sure. I want to be with you for every day of my life, to wake up next to you and to fall asleep in your arms. Because I love you so much, Haru. I've loved you since the moment we first met and that feeling has only grown stronger during each day we spent together. Even when I think the limit has been reached and I can't possibly love you any more, you somehow manage to exceed even that." When he noticed he was talking faster and faster, Makoto paused briefly. "We've shared pretty much everything and I can't imagine not sharing the rest of my life with you too. So will you allow me to stay by your side forever?"

Makoto grabbed the box from his pocket and leaned down on one knee. Haruka's eyes were as wide as saucers and his jaw nearly touched the floor, so at least this part of the surprise wasn't spoiled yet. Contentment flooded Makoto as he opened the box and asked,

"Haruka, will you marry me?"

For a second, Haruka remained frozen like he was unable to process the question. Then, he began to laugh. Loud, joyous, stomach-clutching laughter left his lips, echoing throughout the quiet area and although the sound was music to Makoto's ears, it left him completely baffled.

It wasn't like he expected Haruka to cry, but he certainly hadn't expected this reaction either. The number of times he'd heard Haruka laugh like this could be counted on one hand and unlike then, Makoto didn't see the humour in it now. Had he said something weird? Was his fly undone? Did he have smears of sauce on his face from the yakisoba?

By the time his giggles passed, Haruka was wiping tears from his eyes. Before Makoto had the chance to ask him what was so funny, he reached into his own pocket and pulled an identical box out of it.

"Only if you'll marry me too."

As if on cue, the fireworks went off, painting colourful flowers in the dark night sky and this time, it was Makoto's turn to be left dumbfounded by Haruka's words.

When the reality of the situation got through to him, Makoto laughed too. He jumped up from his knee and Haruka fell into his arms. They had always been on the same wavelength regarding most things, but who would've guessed they'd be this much in harmony? Perhaps Kisumi was right and their hearts truly were connected.

Their lips met in a clumsy kiss, for they were both smiling too widely to put more finesse in the gesture, but that didn't make it any less loving.

"I can't believe this," Makoto said as they parted, but he kept his arms firmly around Haruka's back. "How long have you been planning this?"

"A couple of months," Haruka said, "And judging by that look, so have you."

"Tonight seemed like the perfect night to ask you, but apparently you had the same in mind," Makoto chuckled and Haruka smiled along. "Did you have any idea that I was planning this?"

"Not a clue. I did think you'd been acting weird since last night, but I thought it was because you were onto me and tried not to ruin what I had planned."

"I thought so too!" Makoto said, "You were so quiet today, I was sure you saw right through me."

"I was kind of nervous," Haruka admitted as he averted his eyes, and Makoto's words rang true once more; he had never loved Haruka more than he did in this very moment.

"Sorry to steal your thunder. What were you planning to say?"

"The same thing you said," Haruka said, looking back at Makoto through his eyelashes, cheeks tinged pink. "That I want to be with you forever because there's no one I love more than you."

"I love you too, I love you so much!" Makoto nuzzled their noses together for a second, then captured Haruka's lips in another kiss; their first proper kiss as fiancés. When he realised he hadn't responded yet, he pulled back. "I will."

Haruka frowned. "You will, what?"

"I will marry you," Makoto said, beaming. "That means you'll marry me too, right?"

"Always," Haruka said, then he released his grip on Makoto and took the ring out of the box. "Then this is for you."

"Thank you," Makoto said as he held out his hand and Haruka slipped the ring around his finger. To make matters even crazier, it was eerily similar to the ring he got for Haruka, except this band was a smidge wider and had three small brilliants instead of one. "It's beautiful. I hope you like yours, too."

"I do," Haruka said when Makoto put his ring in place. "It's perfect, thank you."

"Ah, I can't believe we're getting married!" Makoto said as he wrapped his arms tightly around Haruka's waist and lifted him off the ground.

"Makoto!" Haruka blurted as he latched onto Makoto's neck, but when Makoto only flashed him an enormous grin, he smiled back at him.

"I love you so much, Haru!"

In response, Haruka hooked his ankles at the small of Makoto's back, leaned down and kissed him deeply and tenderly.

There were so many things they would need to organise for their upcoming wedding and Makoto was boundlessly excited about it. But for now, he wanted to revel in this moment with Haruka at this gorgeous place, during this unforgettable night; their first night as fiancés.

#i'm sorry i'm stupid #makoharu #makoharu fic #my fic #fantober2020 #colourful days with you

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