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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

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Bouquet

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having come clean about being single for a very long time now and considering herself completely out of the dating scene, Y/N’s confession is taken and responded to with a ton of kindness, especially from a special someone...

Requested by Anon. Hi hun! Thank you so much for your lovely request, it was such a joy to write! I’m so sorry for the long wait you had to go through but the fic is finally here and I hope you enjoy reading it! Love, Vy ❤

I roll out of bed with little to no desire to start my day. We haven’t got a scheduled stream for today and the clouds glooming in the sky seem to be promising rain so really what do I have to get up for except that it’s a rule society installed?

Just kidding, I’m basically stalling and that’s all.

So what happened was the streamer gang and I were playing Among Us last night and our conversation during the pause between rounds somehow swerved into relationship territory. I stayed quiet the majority of if not all the time because I had no valid input to offer.

If you know me you know I’m not one of the performers on the dating scene. I have never really confirmed it with my fans - well, until last night, that is - but I bet they have picked up on that fact considering I’ve been on YouTube for around a decade and have never had a partner. That being said, I’d have to also mention that I have in fact dated but someone but it was before my YouTube era started. Me choosing this career path, which back then was just a hobby, had nothing to do with the relationship ending but it still motivated me to not to actively look for a relationship while I’m still focused on my career. It’s too much work, too much stress and requires a lot of balance I most certainly either don’t have or I don’t have the energy to put in balancing my romantic and professional lives. Luckily, no one’s ever pressured me into finding a significant other, not yet at least, so no societal pressure for me!

But I gotta admit I felt real awkward admitting all this last night.

“Hey Y/N what do you think? You’ve been awfully quiet?“ Rae asks, causing me to jolt in my seat from where I’ve been reading my chat for the past five minutes, my mic muted.

I quickly unmute to reply, blushing ever so slightly, “Um, sorry I was reading my chat. What do I think about what?”

“The gesture of giving flowers to your significant other, is it romantic or a waste of money and plant murder?“ Rae explains, still managing to catch me off-guard with her question.

I ponder what my response should be for a little bit before deciding to level it to a neutral level where I almost sound indifferent, “It is in fact plant murder basically and artificial flowers would definitely be a better gift - plus they’ll last longer.”

“Mhmm yeah that’s true.“ Poki agrees with me, “But there’s still the question of whether it’s a romantic gesture or not. I personally don’t think it’s overrated or cheesy, I actually quite like it. What about you, Y/N?“

And now she’s got me in a real trap that I can’t wiggle out of without speaking my truth. I don’t know where this sudden anxiety around the subject came from but it now resides within me rent free and makes me feel self-conscious and embarrassed of the confession I’m inevitably make.

“Um, I wouldn’t know for certain, I’ve never received flowers myself...“ I say sheepishly, cringing at the sound of my own voice, “It’s not like I’ve dated plenty of people and the one guy I did date wasn’t really romantic or anything, I mean - we were teenagers, after all. But when I think about it in theory I think I’d like the gesture: it’s thoughtful, plus you get a temporary but beautiful piece of décor out of it.“

I’m gonna hope I didn’t sound too pitiful or desperate. Of course I’m not gonna check afterward on the stream cause I’d rather live in the illusion of having sounded humorous rather than be given the confirmation that I didn’t.

“Wait, wait, wait, did you date your last boyfriend like a decade ago?“ Corpse is now the one talking and that makes me feel even more anxious. This is not the impression one would want to give to their crush, is it? Oh well, no turning back now.

“Correct.“ I reply with a laugh that I hope didn’t sound as nervous as it was.

“And you’ve never, like in your whole life, received flowers from someone?“ He sounds astonished which sort of makes me want to shrink up in my shell like a turtle. Too bad I don’t have a shell though. I’m genuinely thinking of the option to rip the router out of the outlet right now to save me the troubles but I’m not that immature. I’m surprised I’m even reacting this way - this topic doesn’t usually bother me at all but now for some reason I’m red as a tomato and shrinking in my chair.

I know what the obvious answer is but I’d rather die than admit to it.

“Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds bad but I really don’t care.“ I make an attempt at changing the subject, swerving it back to the main topic rather than my lack of a love life, “I do, in fact, find the gesture sweet - it adds vibrancy to the relationship just like the flowers would add vibrancy and color to the space they’re put in.“

“Oh my gosh, that’s such a cool analogy!“ Rae gushes, “You’re totally right, it might be an old trick, but it’s aged like fine wine.“

Phew, God bless you Rae.

“Exactly, exactly.“ Corpse agrees as well but I don’t think he’s fully heard what Rae said since he sounds to have fallen in deep thought.

At least I got away with it with only making a SLIGHT nervous wreck of myself.

Yikes, was that horrible, though I don’t people will remember it for long. Sure, my fans have sent me thousands of lovely messages and pictures of bouquets and will maybe continue sending them for another day or two - which I highly appreciate, don’t get me wrong. I’m severely touched by this gesture of theirs and it almost makes me glad I finally ‘came clean’ about my romance-less life - however, it’ll fade overtime. I mean, who the heck cares if I’m single or not?

As I pour the milk over my cheerios which I’ve been snacking on dry for the past half hour as I rifled through the many notifications clogging up my lock screen, I hear the doorbell ring. I’m understandably puzzled by this, seeing as how I never get visitors so that doorbell rings only when I’ve ordered something, be it takeout or a random item off Amazon. However, I can’t remember ordering anything, at least not anything that should be arriving at the moment or even anytime soon - that glow-in-the dark curtain isn’t supposed to arrive until next week. I make my way to the door, unbothered by the fact I’m still in my pajamas, and take a look through the peephole.

It’s a delivery guy...and he happens to be holding a huge-ass bouquet.

“What the...“ I mutter to myself as I unlock and swing open the door in the blink of an eye, “Hi?“

“Hi there, are you Y/N L/N?“ The delivery guy, who I’ve seen many times before and who I’m on pretty friendly terms with, asks me jokingly, sending a wink my way.

“I sure am.“ I reply, my gaze fixated on the breathtaking flowers he’s holding, “But those can’t be for me, that’s for sure.“

He fishes looks at his clipboard one more time, nodding before he looks back at me, “I double and triple checked, Y/N, they’re for you. Here, have a look if you don’t believe me.” He turns the clipboard for me to see and he is actually telling the truth. I mean, I doubt he’d have any reason to lie to me but mix-ups happen all the time.

“Um, ok thanks. Sorry for the halt, it’s just...I’d hate to be the recipient of the flowers meant for another girl.” I apologize as I take the bouquet for him, still in awe of the fact I’m the one it was made and meant for and sent to.

I say a quick ‘bye’ to the delivery guy before practically running inside to inspect this bouquet for a card from the sender. I have my guesses: it has to be someone who was present during the stream last night and someone who knows my address. Hopefully it’s someone from my friend group and not a fan who watched the stream and just happens to know my address. I’d still appreciate the gesture, but I’d also install security cameras if that was the case.

Something about the color scheme of the flowers - pink and black - gives me Rae vibes since she constantly teases me about my aesthetics contradicting each other. But then again, Poki does it too so it could be her as well....

Oh...OH GOD IT’S NEITHER OF THEM

~ ~ ~

I’ve been sitting here, keeping myself a safe distance from my phone so I’m not the first one to send her a text. So I don’t ask if she got what I sent her. So I don’t ask what she thought of it, how the bouquet looks in her living room, how it smells, how it makes her feel. I have so many questions so that phone is best off at a major distance from me. I’m the one who’s better off with such a huge distance between me and the device, to be perfectly honest.

Was it a bad idea? Should I have slept on it - or just thought about it longer cause sleep and I don’t get along? Should I have at least waited a day or two? Should I-

My phone vibrates with a notification and I practically fly to it from across the room, grabbing it and unlocking it asap. My heart sinks and takes off like a rocket simultaneously when I see I’ve been tagged in Y/N’s Instagram story. I nervously tap the notification that sends me to the picture of the bouquet I sent her with some text written over it.

“Thank you, Romeo ;)“

Somehow that one sentence answers all those aforementioned questions.

Is this what people refer to as butterflies in one’s stomach? Cause it feels significantly more like a crush...oh wait.

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kirain · 4 years ago

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What's with that post? Dutch LOVES Hosea. They're literally gay. They held hands and raised two sons together. They're so extremely gay, respect it!

Two men: Showing affection

Tumblr: They're fucking!

...In all seriousness, I have absolutely no idea what I said or did to warrant this message, but I can only assume it's because I said in another post that Dutch doesn't respect Hosea? Which he doesn't?

They're supposed to be partners, but he certainly doesn't treat him like one. He doesn't listen to him, he yells at him when he's coughing or in pain, and he makes him sleep on the cold, hard, dirty ground. He even openly ignores him in Colter, in front of the other men, and rides off when he tries to stop him from robbing Cornwall's train. I'm not saying they don't have a rich history or good moments, but it's a toxic relationship at best. Not exactly something worth praising.

If you don't believe me, you can find unique dialogues as the game progresses, verifying he’s lost all faith in Dutch. To the point that he even starts telling other members to leave. Abigail, John, Arthur, Lenny, Tilly, Sadie -- he tells all of them to leave. During a dominoes game we played together he even said, "Maybe it's just me, but Dutch seems to be getting more and more unhinged." And as early as chapter one he told Arthur, "Try to stop Dutch getting all of you killed, because I'm about beginning to think he's finally lost his mind."

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There are also other conversations where Hosea’s disappointment with Dutch is far more blatant. He basically tells Arthur he’s been disillusioned for a while and wishes the gang would change, but when Arthur asks what they’d do instead of thieving, Hosea says, “I don’t know. I never knew. Guess I could never figure that out, neither.” By this point he’s just so dejected and defeatist because he knows Dutch won’t listen to him. He also goes on a whole tirade about how they’ve become “nothing but a bunch of killers”, which breaks his heart, and during a random campfire encounter he bares his soul and flat out tells the gang he no longer believes in Dutch’s “we’re above the law” philosophy.

As for the whole "they're gay" thing? Ship whoever you want. I don't care (they're fictional characters, after all). But don't come onto my blog and demand that I "respect it", because I don't. In fact, I vehemently disagree with you.

First off, Hosea was very happily married and totally devoted to his wife Bessie. So much so that after she died, he was drunk and depressed for a year. He even tried to leave the gang once he married her, but he inevitably drifted back into the life of an outlaw when he failed to find adequate work. Keep that in mind, though -- he left the van der Linde gang. He left Dutch. During the hunting mission, Arthur even says, "I remember you were gone for a long while." But according to Hosea, Bessie supported and accepted his lifestyle, since at the time they were more of a community than a “gang”. They actually helped people, like a Robin Hood band of merry men.

Hosea talking about his wife:

"Since she was ... taken from me, I miss her every day. She's what I think about when I wake up, and what I'm still thinking about when I go to sleep. Confuses me. Confuses me to no end, how a wretched sinner like me could be given someone so perfect, so beautiful to take care of. For once in my wretched life, do my best. And then she dies ... and I live on. Well, at least for now. She’s been gone many years. All them years I was given and she was not, and we’re expected to believe in judgement? What kind of a judge would save me and take her? A foolish one I can’t respect anymore than I can respect myself! I miss her so--!” He pauses, nearly crying. “Forgive me for being so maudlin, but ... it’s a fact. I know we all of us seen more death than life these past few months, but ... well, sometimes the unfairness of it all confuses me.”

In addition, when asked who the two most important people in his life are, he mentions Bessie first, before Dutch. Arguably he's known Dutch longer and he’s still alive and active in his life, but Bessie always comes first. He also says he’s “ready to die” because he’s “ready to join her”.

Please don't disregard this. Hosea is an honest, loyal, loving husband. If it was just a matter of you insisting he's gay, I'd probably have less of a problem (because, sure, that can change for some people and maybe he's bi now), but pairing him with Dutch, when he's so wholly devoted to his wife, is just reprehensible in my opinion. Dutch isn’t a good man and he treats Hosea quite poorly.

Secondly, yes, you're partially right. Hosea did raise two kids with Dutch. Actually, he raised four. Arthur, John, Tilly, and Mary-Beth. They were all young teens when they joined, but Dutch and Hosea weren't the only "parents". Grimshaw and Bessie also helped raised them. Arthur even says Bessie taught him how to play dominoes and mentions that he misses her. So I don't really understand the correlation here. You don't have to be in a sexual/romantic relationship to raise kids. And keep in mind that the story takes place during a time when entire communities worked together to raise children. Ever heard the expression "it takes a village to raise a child"?

Overall, I'm simply not comfortable overlooking Hosea's marriage and Dutch's abuse. To put it into perspective, it'd be like writing a fic where Molly and Dutch are in a happy, healthy relationship, despite all the evidence to the contrary. I'm just not the type of person who's willing to change a character's entire personality and history in order to make them fit my personal narrative.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption #2 #hosea matthews #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #john marston #lenny summers #mary beth #susan grimshaw #bessie matthews #tilly #rockstar #van der linde gang #anon

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chalkrevelations · 4 years ago

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SO. Back to the beginning, Episode 1 of Word of Honor. This is likely to be a little bit different experience than the prior posts, when I was watching the eps as they aired, compared to now approaching the show as whole and complete. May be rummaging around for things I missed the first time through, stuff that takes on new meaning set in additional context – we’ll see how it goes.

With that in mind, spoilers for not just this ep but possibly for the entire series. Get out of the car now and come back later, if you haven’t seen all 36.5 eps and want to watch it unspoiled.

First thing to strike me, right up front: You know, I think we tend to lose sight in later parts of the show – when we’re getting Laopo!Zhou Zishu pouting so he doesn’t have to cook dinner - how terrifying ZZS is in his own right (and by “we,” I actually mean the show, too). One of the things the first few episodes gets right, I think, is the sense of eerie inevitability and dread created by both the falling lanterns of Tian Chuang and the blowing paper figures of the Ghost Valley, and how similar they are. I think it’s easy to lose that - when the lanterns and the paper figures are gone and our charming and adorable couple are busy being charming and adorable at each other, in between varying rounds of being wracked by guilt and PTSD – easy to lose that this is there too, part of them – both of them - under the skin. I think it’s particularly easy to lose that for ZZS, when he’s already done a lot of work, off-screen, pre-Episode 1, during the 18 months he was putting in those first six Nails, to come to some kind of equilibrium, and meanwhile we watch Wen Kexing’s entire torturous process play out on-screen. Wen Kexing’s story is one of reaching an equilibrium, but Zhou Zishu’s story is one of maintaining it, which I think may be less showy, but is equally valuable, just as I value the Four Seasons Manor arc, especially, for giving us a vibe of two adults comfortable in an already intimate relationship, as opposed to the veritable sea of will-they-won’t-they tug-of-war coming-together-for-the-first-time-as-emotional-AND-plot climax relationships that we’re usually awash in.

Anyway, straight up we’re introduced to an assassin who, we discover, doesn’t like to get blood on himself. It looks like metaphorical blood is fine, just not actual blood, but then we discover, well, maybe he’s not as OK with metaphorical blood as he schools himself to look. Also that conversation with Li Jingan about her dad having to die because he’s a traitor to the country – I now wonder how much of that particular conversation Zhou Zishu mentally brings to the table in later conversations about his own father being executed for the same reason. Also, wait wait wait. Zhou Zishu tells Jingan that he took Jiuxiao’s body back to Four Seasons Manor and buried him next to their shifu, but I don’t remember seeing another grave there, other than Qin Huaizhang’s and his wife’s. Script inconsistency, or are you supposed to be lying, ZZS? I mean, would you be so downcast at the state of Four Seasons Manor when you arrive with your husband and son for your honeymoon, if you’d actually been there only a couple of years before? It didn’t fall to pieces overnight. Also, HAIRPIN FORESHADOWING ALERT. Our first sign of how important the hairpin is, the way ZZS’s impassive face cracks wide open when he sees the hairpin that Jiuxiao made and realizes he must have given it to Jingan. Clearly important!

Mmm. Here’s a point for the “Prince Jin is a f’kn asshole” list – Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with Bi Changfeng personally when Bi Changfeng requests to leave Tian Chuang. And OK, ZZS is the leader of Tian Chuang. But you’re never going to convince me Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with it personally because Prince Jin is actually so very furious that Bi Changfeng made a mistake. You will never convince me this isn’t a … it’s not even a test of loyalty, at this point, because Prince Jin has no reason to think yet that ZZS is anything other than the faithful hunting dog on a leash that he’s been, lo, these many years. Putting ZZS in a position where not only is he losing the last of the direct disciples of Four Seasons Manor, but he’s being asked to (as good as) kill him with his own hands - it’s just cruelty for the proof of your power and influence over someone. Also, given Prince Jin’s later diatribe about how everyone leaves him OMG (have you considered it’s your personality?) (But also Beiyuan! I know who you are now, and yeah, I would have let Wu Xi bride-kidnap me away from this jerk, too), I have to wonder if Prince Jin isn’t trying to make ZZS feel exactly as isolated as he, himself, feels, as part of his overall desire to make sure that ZZS has no one other than Prince Jin so that their positions are parallel – only having each other in the whole world. I also have to wonder if he’s not hoping for precisely the reaction ZZS has to Bi Changfeng – you’d rather be dead than be with me? Because that hurts, you can see it on ZZS’s face (thanks already, Zhang Zhehan), and I rather suspect Prince Jin wants it to hurt. I notice we get an echo of this later in the ep, with Prince Jin saying pretty much the same thing when ZZS asks for the final Nail. GOOD. I hope it hurts you just as much. I wonder if ZZS realizes this while he’s kneeling there in the throne room. It’s probably too late for him to get any satisfaction out of it.

OH, HEY. That’s HAN YING already, one of the two people accompanying ZZS to put down Bi Changfeng, looking super-pained like he knows what this is all costing his beloved. Han Ying, I really hope you got to tap that at least a few times before ZZS made his break for it. Is that one of the reasons Prince Jin seems to have such antipathy for you, or is it really just that he can’t stand the idea of someone whose loyalty to ZZS is greater than their loyalty to Prince Jin, himself? (Seriously, y’all, why is there not much much more Han Ying/ZZS fic?) Meanwhile Duan Pengju, omg, this asshole, is already looking smug and punchable. Really, he’s kind of enjoying the Seven Nails placement a little too much. Showing your hand pretty fast on the petty evil thing, show.

So, one thing I didn’t catch the first time around, is that ZZS isn’t just self-injuring to punish himself when he takes the knife to his chest – he re-opens wounds on all the places where the first six Nails have already been placed, so it will look like the placement is fresh. If you can’t tell he hasn’t just put them in, there’s no reason for anyone else (read: Prince Jin) to suspect he’s bought himself some time before he loses his senses. As far as anyone knows, he’s going to fall over with locked-in syndrome any day now. Which just makes the implications of Prince Jin vowing that he’s only letting him go for now EVEN ICKIER. For all Prince Jin knows, what he’s going to get back is a flesh doll that will just lie there, although I guess on the plus side, ZZS would never leave him again. Thanks, show, I need a shower, now.

ZZS says all the right things to argue his case to Prince Jin – he’s only good as a weapon, he has no skills nor utility for building and governing the country – and I think partly this is because he just knows the right things to say. I mean, you don’t become the Number Two guy in the country, with thousands under you and only one above you, if you can’t play imperial politics. But I also wonder if deep down he doesn’t actually believe it – he was successful at building Tian Chuang, but he couldn’t maintain Four Seasons Manor and even drove it to ruin. So, I’ll just be over here, clutching my chest, over my heart. Fortunately, Zhang Zhehan provides quick distraction from this pain, and I … Y’all. I can’t. I just. I CANNOT. When ZZS drops to his knees and starts stripping in the throne room. Just. Mmmmmrgh. THIS VISUAL. Although, you want to know what one of the hottest parts actually is? That pair of leather bracers hitting the floor on top of his belt, and ZZS isn’t even in the shot at that point. OK, fine, I am willing to read some dirtybadwrong fic with this whole scene premise at its heart, even if it does include Prince Jin. Zhang Zhehan, you are KILLING ME. I might have rewound this part. More than once. You can’t prove anything.

Aaaand then we get that gorgeous, painful shot of ZZS riding out into the snow that I know I’ve talked about before (including the way I get an odd echo of Lan Xichen off of it). There are several places in this ep where the cinematography is to die for, and this is one of them, the bleakness of the landscape and Zhang Zhehan (and his FACE) deep in that shadowing cloak against the stark snow as he rides out into freedom and the unknown. Then cut to somewhere green and forested. Interesting that the show starts with snow and ends with snow. That parallel with the imperial cage says some things about immortality that could stand to be unpacked – but later. Because ZZS is putting his face on – literally – and I am once again in pain, only it’s not the good kind of pain. It’s caused by that dreadful fake facial hair. There are some things that could be unpacked here, as well, about the fact that making ZZS supposedly unattractive involves a clearly fake goatee, a single aesthetically placed scar, and darkening his skin. I’m going to try to step carefully here, because this is kind of out of my lane, but it is … a noticeable thing. That probably ought to be noted.

So, ZZS takes just a moment to turn his (fake) face up to the sun and feel the warmth on it … and then with 10 minutes left, we’re on our way to Ghost Valley, where there’s some chaos and then Hanging Ghost gets got by a Mysterious Stranger To Be Revealed Later, who chokes him out (remember this). The Mysterious Master of Ghost Valley appears dramatically on his High Ledge to Make Some Pronouncements while playing with some walnuts omg (rolling two of them in one hand – remember this), and we see his eyes, which are partially obscured by chunky sidebangs, which are farther forward on his forehead than we’re going to see later, not only hiding some of his face but making it look more angular. The troops get berated, shit rolls downhill, and another dude gets choked (remember this) as Ghost Valley Master’s hair continues to artfully hide most of his face and he worries about his manicure post-kill (remember this). War is declared on Hanging Ghost for stealing the Glazed Armor, and more chaos is set into motion.

All of that takes literally two minutes, and then we cut to three months later, and no one realizes it yet, but the fam is getting together. ZZS is tits out in the gutter - only beginning his career of being a minx who flashes his collarbones an awful lot for someone who has Very Secret Scars He’s Hiding On His Chest - happily drinking himself to death in the sun (we really need to talk about this correlation of snow and immortality vs. sun and happiness …). Meanwhile, slo-mo shot of Wen Kexing looking precious and perfect, with delicate pink lips and dove-grey robes, as he checks out the rough trade in the gutter. Oh, the expectations this show is getting ready to smash. We cut from a shot of pristine precious WKX to ZZS holding up his hand, and we get a shot of the sun through ZZS’s fingers looking an awful lot like some shots of characters halo’d in light that we’ll get back to much much later in the show. Chengling appears out of nowhere to be Best Boy. A-Xiang is purple and smol and ready to brawl, and I already love her. I already love them all! So much! Here are my delicate and precious feelings, show, go ahead and stomp all over them!

#zhou zishu #prince jin #han ying #wen kexing #gu xiang #zhang chengling #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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dex-xe · 3 years ago

Note

Cap experimenting with new parts of his identity after realising he's gay and coming out.

I’m not 100% certain what exactly you mean by this but you know I’m a sucker for gay!Cap stories so here we go!! (Please let me know if this isn’t really what you meant, or if it is then please feel free to add!!)

My inbox is HERE if you guys wanna send me more things to write about!!

So I am FIRMLY of the belief that Cap has NO IDEA that’s he’s gay,, he’s oblivious and repressed so has not got a bloody clue that he’s gay.

Alison has been hinting for literally ages to try and get him to realise cause she’s convinced that as soon as he figures it out (and accepts it) he’ll be a significantly happier man. She starts leaving newspapers open on gay news stories, not specifically gay related just like “two wives crocheting jumpers for local children’s charity” kinda innocuous stories. Cap reads whatever newspaper is open but he either doesn’t pick up on the hints or ignores.

Alison then puts on the film Pride (one of my 3 favourite films of all time). Cap loves it, and definitely even cries at the end (in the same place I do: “he was 26” *bawls*).

But yeah Cap still doesn’t say anything.

Eventually it gets to June and Alison and Mike hang a large rainbow flag from the flagpole above the door and two tiny bi pride flags on the mantelpiece (both Mike and Alison are bi, they are the epitome of bi wife and bi husband energy can’t tell me otherwise) and they peak Cap’s interest: he’s never seen that flag before.

He asks Alison what the meaning of the colourful flags are and she explains it’s bi pride and has to basically explain what that is (boy’s oblivious I’m telling you).

“So,” he says incredibly seriously for a lighthearted conversation, “you are… interested in men, yes? But also women? Like the brides from the wedding.”

“Got it in one!”

“And Michael, hmmm. Michael however, he loves you? But he is also interested in… well in male individuals?”

“Yep.”

Cap asks if Mike’s ever been in a relationship with a man (he is interested in Alison’s sexuality but he does fixate on Mike’s for the time being) and Alison tells him that Mike had a boyfriend at sixth form but hasn’t really since.

“And this is legal?”

“Yeah of course Cap! People can love whoever they want, you can… I mean anyone can love anyone!”

Then Cap goes complete radio silence. He’s off, stalking about the gardens and hiding in his room and everyone is slightly miffed but it’s not unusual for him. After like a solid week he corners Alison in the kitchen and double checks no one is around.

“Alison, I must inform you that I believe myself to be… bisexual as well.” Alison is slightly miffed but accepts it anyway and says she’s really proud of him.

“Ah but there is a slight snag in my bisexual, you see? The men, yes… oh God yes (gazes off into space imagining *insert your own Cap ship here*) but the women, I’m less sure.”

“Oh. Cap that’s not bisexual then?”

“Oh well I’m very sorry to have troubled you, I’m not at all. Oh deary me I am sorry.”

Alison then goes on to explain he’s gay, not bi and that’s great. She shows him the flag outside as well as ordering a mlm flag for him (which he loves).

NOW THEN!! My favourite bit: Cap now knows he’s gay, he knows it’s legal, and Alison has told him over and over that it’s really good so he genuinely doesn’t feel any shame. I’m solidly of the belief that once Cap is aware of his identity he would fully embrace it. I think his “push it down and bury it” to Fanny would not stand up cause he means it about romance and attraction rather than his identity because I don’t believe he knows.

Anyway, Cap then goes on a deep dive into queer culture. He watches Pride another hundred times, as well as any other film Alison can find for him on Netflix. He starts giving rather informative lecture about whatever he’s learnt including a surprising but nevertheless fascinating talk about how Drag Race is actually an uber competitive sports competition.

He also takes great seriousness in asking people their pronouns. Whenever new people come to the house, he stands behind Alison demanding she ask them their pronouns because it’s “the respectful and decent thing to do” (Mike and Alison have a non-binary friend who uses they/them and various neo pronouns and Cap takes this very seriously and gets incredibly overexcited in getting the other ghosts to use xe/xim, he’s very righteous when he gets them right every single time without fail.)

I’m gonna wrap this up now after saying the classic gay!Cap headcanon of him rearranging the medals on his uniform into the closest recreation of the pride flag he could which is just the cutest headcanon ever!!

But yeah, I hope this is what you wanted and please please let me know your guys’ additions, that’d be really cool!!

#bbc ghosts #max's ghost post #the captain bbc ghosts

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tapping-away · 4 years ago

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My take on a potential Santa Clarita Diet season 4, in the form of episode synopses because I’m terrible at committing to writing long things, but I also really wanted to explore how a fourth and final season could have gone. Let me know what you think of it.

Santa Clarita Diet S4

1. Joel is now a zombie; things are pretty good, he’s a bit looser, a bit more carefree, slight undertones of being a bit more dangerous than anticipated. Sheila and Abby decide to keep a close eye on him (sorry I didn’t go into a lot of detail here, wasn’t sure how to start it all off)

2. Sheila and Abby think maybe things will be fine; it takes some getting used to, but they end up having a lot of fun and think that’s just how it’ll go; Joel gets his motorcycle back out and starts using it; he and Rick talk motorcycles, and Joel is revealed as bisexual as he flirts with Rick. He goes for a ride and comes back at night, when no ones awake, covered in blood under his helmet and jacket; there’s a report on the news the next day of a brutal crime scene and a missing person, Joel turns the tv off before anyone else sees it

3. Abby begins questioning her relationship with Eric and struggles to figure out how she feels for him; learning her father is bi has made her start to consider other options she hadn’t had time to consider before then; Sheila learns about the murder that happened in the next city and is starting to worry; she goes to their storage unit to get more food and is shocked to find there’s another body in there; Joel reassures her that it was a bad person and that it wasn’t planned, but it worked out; Sheila can’t argue when she knows she’s done the same; She keeps it from Abby

4. Abby is flirted with by Winter who then asks her out and is uncertain how to respond. She tells Winter she’ll let her know; Eric notices acting odd when he comes by and Abby tries to steer the conversation away, to Eric’s confusion; Sheila tries to talk to Joel about where he was two nights ago and he says he’d just been out riding until he ran into a supposed drug dealer who he killed; Sheila asks Anne and Rick about the bloody crime scene that happened and what they know about the missing person, she learns it was someone from Joel’s high school and gets further suspicious of her husband; Joel says he had nothing to do with it and gets angry that Sheila suspects him, and Abby overhears while on her way to talk to her parents about things; Joel storms out when Abby starts questioning him as well. That night Joel pulls up outside an apartment building, he takes off his helmet and grins

5. Joel doesn’t come home the next day and Sheila and Abby are getting very concerned, they talk to Eric and try to get back in contact with Dr Wolf. Learning that they found the reason for the metamorphosis, the clams, Dr Wolf decides to look into them and attempt to figure out a true cure. Sheila goes looking for Joel with Abby and Eric, and is concerned when she’s a tv displaying news of another reported bloody scene with no body in sight. Joel is revealed to be at Ron’s place

6. While at Ron’s, Joel starts questioning him, revealing that he thinks Ron or someone Ron turned is behind the murders happening in town. Ron tries to deny it but Joel terrifies him into revealing that he turned Chris and Christa, he doesn’t know their connection to the Hammonds but did tell them everything about being undead. Joel remembers what Sheila said about the first person who got killed being from their high school and realizes Chris and Christa are responsible. He threatens Ron with death if someone else dies because of what he did or if Sheila or Abby end up hurt. Ron is left terrified and makes a phone call.

7. Dr Wolf calls Sheila and tells her she managed to locate some of the clams and is running tests. She posits the theory that the undead could possibly be able to consume the clams instead of humans, after seeing a clam ingest a finger of an undead person. Sheila is excited at this prospect but still hopes to find a cure. Abby and Eric talk about what’s been going on after Eric sees Abby staring at Winters name in her phone. Abby admits she isn’t sure about who she is anymore or how she feels about him, and Eric- while clearly disappointed- tells her that she should take the time to figure things out and that he’ll always at least be her friend. They hug but before Abby can do anything with the number, Joel finally returns. She runs up to her dad to confront him, and follows him into the house with Eric. Sheila thinks it’s only Abby and starts talking about Dr Wolfs findings before she sees Joel. The episode ends with them all looking at each other

8. Sheila tries to make up an excuse to keep Joel from realizing she is looking for a cure, uncertain of how the new him would react, and is shocked when he seems almost hopeful about the idea of not having to murder people anymore. Abby demands that Joel say where he’s been and if he had anything to do with the murders, to which Joel is still angry they suspect him but tells them that he went to Ron’s to ask if he had anything to do with it. He reveals that Ron turned Chris and Christa and told them everything, and that he thinks they’re behind the recent murders happening. Sheila wants to tell Anne or Rick but Joel is worried about what would happen if they did, as weapons won’t work and it could result in zombies being discovered by the police. Eric reminds them that that might happen anyway if there are any clues found that lead to the true culprits. Joel and Sheila decide they’ll have to kill Chris and Christa, but Abby doesn’t want to leave Christian an orphan even if she hates him. The family are unsure what to do.

9. It’s two days later and the Hammonds are still undecided on what to do; meanwhile there have been two more murders that have occurred- making four total- of someone from their high school. Anne is getting suspicious of the fact the Hammonds went to school with the missing victims, but her faith in Sheila has her believing that it’s a devil of sorts trying to go after Sheila. Abby meanwhile decides to call Winter after deciding she wants a break from all the weird shit happening. She sets up a date for that same afternoon and ends up kissing her. Abby finally gets a chance to talk to her dad about the fact he’s bi and discuss her own uncertainty of where she’s at. The two reconnect over the conversation as Joel shows he’s still her dad even if he’s different, just like Sheila is still her mom. Cut to Dr Wolf in her lab as she manages to synthesize a cure that completely reversed the undead state

10. Sheila talks with Joel about Abby and about what they should do. He says they’ll figure something out and that Abby will be fine. Eric comes in at the same time Abby appears and it’s a bit awkward , but Eric reveals that Dr Wolf is on her way there with a synthesized potential cure and with some of the clams in a farm to see if they can eat them instead of people. The Hammonds are overjoyed at the idea of getting anywhere closer to normal, but before they can get too excited there’s a knock at the door. Joel goes to answer it and is promptly stabbed in the chest and shoved out of the way to reveal Chris and Christa, who close the door behind them. They reveal to the Hammonds and Eric they are the ones behind the murders and that Ron called them after Joel left to warn them that he was on to them. Joel, after yanking the knife out, asks them what exactly they plan to do. Chris says that they are going to frame the Hammonds as the murderers, kill them, and set the house on fire to make it look like they went on the run after disposing of evidence. Abby tries to get them to see sense, tells them to think of their son, but the two seem indifferent to what may happen to Christian. This makes Joel and Sheila furious, and Joel tries to stab Christa- who’s closer- with the knife, but Chris manages to pull a gun on Eric before Joel can do more than cut Christa’s face. Abby is terrified and Eric tries to tell her it’s okay, but Chris hits him with the gun to make him be quiet. As this is all happening, Dr Wolf arrives outside but hears the commotion and tries to figure out what to do. She notices Rick in a police car next door. Inside a stalemate is happening as the Hammonds try to get Chris to release Eric. A knock at the door interrupts them all.

11. Chris and Christa tell them to answer the door, as the fact their cars are outside would make it suspicious if they don’t answer. Joel goes to the door and finds Dr Wolf on the other side. She hurries to pretend to be someone from the neighborhood and makes conversation while subtly asking Joel what’s happening through her phone text. Joel mouths the word ‘zombies’ at her and gestures to the newspaper sitting at their door with the murders on the front page. Dr Wolf seems to understand and opens her briefcase. She hands Joel a syringe and mimes poking it in the neck. Joel realizes she wants him to use it on Chris or Christa to because Dr Wolf said that previous tests resulted in death of the clams and that working tests still resulted in pain during the transformation back. She also gestures at Rick next door and Joel nods at her, telling her ‘You’d be better off asking my neighbor Rick for help about that kind of thing.’ Agreeing to her getting Rick to help. Joel closes the door and hide the syringe in his back pocket, before walking back. Outside Dr Wolf makes her way quickly to Ricks house and knocks on the door, proceeding to tell him that she thinks someone dangerous is in the Hammonds house. Back inside Joel returns and says it was someone new to the neighborhood asking for directions, and that he sent her away, tacking on that she introduced herself as a doctor or something so the others know who it actually was. Joel moves towards Sheila and Abby and shows them the syringe, while Chris and Christa talk about what to do next. Joel catches their attention telling them to let Eric go and take him hostage instead, saying that a bullet to the brain is just as effective on him as it would be on Eric. Christa doesn’t think it necessary but Chris overrides her in an urge to have his old rival in such a vulnerable position. Joel walks forward and suddenly yanks Eric out of the way before jamming the needle in Chris’ neck. Chris’ gun goes off as he collapses in pain. Joel turns to go after Christa next but she’s coming at him with the knife, right before she can stab him another shot goes off and Joel turns to see Sheila holding the gun Chris had. As Christa falls dead, Rick comes in with Dr Wolf and takes control of the situation. He asks what’s happening and the Hammonds tell the truth, for once, that the murderers aren’t them and that they were about to be framed. Rick calls in backup after cuffing Chris, telling the Hammonds that he’s glad none of them were hurt. They all hug, including Eric, the screen fades to black. Two months later shows things back to normal again, as Abby comes down in the morning to tell her parents she’s going out with Winter on a date and has plans with Eric later as well and so won’t be home till night. They tell her to have fun, and not to do anything they wouldn’t do. The scene ends with Joel and Sheila shown either eating normal food or eating the red clams, implying the cure didn’t work or that they didn’t take it.

#Santa Clarita Diet #joel hammond #sheila Hammond #the Hammonds #Eric bemis #Abby Hammond #I didn’t include a lot of characters cause I couldn’t really remember much about them #I wanted to focus on the family bringing things to an end themselves #also I made Joel bi cause I could #Abby is also Not Straight

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ererokii · 4 years ago

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Match made in Chemistry || Dabi

➳ Teacher Dabi “Touya Todoroki” x Teacher Fem Reader

Word Count: 2943 Warnings: modern au, light cursing Taglist: @shoutosteakettle @reddriot @todosweetheart @kingtamakimurder @byougen (dm me to be added!)

➳ Note: Hey @lirinstaalem ! I’m your secret santa! I really hope you enjoy this fic, Life! I know how much you love Dabi, and how much you HATE chemistry, so I made a lil sumn for this <3 and thank you so much @reddriot for betaing!

Students watch their English teacher sort through their graded timed essays from the day prior, humming softly to herself. A girl in the front zoned in on the diamond encrusted band resting on her teacher’s ring finger, and she gasped, not realizing that her teacher had just gotten married.

“Ms. Y/LN!”

You halt your movements as you look up, eyebrows furrowed from the sudden outburst. “Is something the matter, Ashido?”

“Why didn’t you tell us you got married?!”

Murmurs arise from the other students as they suddenly shift their focus onto you and Ashido.

“Oh you got married?! Congratulations!”

“I didn’t even know she was engaged...”

“Shut up, Kaminari. Of course someone gets engaged before getting married.”

“No need to be so rude, Bakugou!”

You stack the papers neatly before laying them flat on the desk. “Well,” you start off, leaning forward as your lips curl at the thought of your husband. “No one knew, except some of the teachers of course. It was a bit of a secret.”

“But love shouldn’t be a secret!” a girl with black hair chirps up, sighing in content. “Love is meant to be shown to the world! Everyone deserves a chance to show off their loved one!”

“You’re absolutely right, Yaoyorozu. But this was a mutual thing between my husband and I, for the better.”

“Is he a criminal or something?”

You scoff at your student’s words. “Of course he’s not a criminal. I’m just not ready to speak about him, that’s all.”

“...I bet it’s Mr. Todoroki huh?!”

You shake your head as you scratch the side of your head. “No, Uraraka. It’s not Mr. Todoroki.”

“It has to be!”

“And why do you think it is?”

“Well Ms. Y/LN, I’m sure we all noticed the way you guys act with each other. And he’s the chemistry teacher? It’s like it was a match made in heaven. You two obviously are very comfortable with each other!”

“M-Midoriya it’s not like that,” you stutter, internally cursing yourself out as you broke composure. “Besides, I hate chemistry.”

“Who hates chemistry?”

Shit. Perfect timing.

You avert your gaze from the rambunctious teenagers, to the devil of the hour. “Hi, Mr. Todoroki. What do you need?”

The black haired man looks over at his students as he stands in front of your desk, back turned to them. “I ran out of staples. Can you give me some, Ms.Y/LN?” he asks with a sly smirk curling at his lips. “I promise to give you something in return.”

“It can’t be helped,” you sigh as you open a drawer, pulling a box of staples out as you handed it to him. “When are you going to buy your own supplies and stop leeching off of others?”

“Soon. Don’t you worry about it, I promise I’ll make you proud,” Touya teases as he takes the package from you. “I’ll see you in the teachers’ lounge.” His fingers graze across your knuckles before straightening himself up, saying goodbye to the students and walking out.

It’s quiet. A bit too quiet at the moment. You could feel your heart pumping as a jolt of nervousness suddenly hits your body. You knew that exchange was far from a normal teacher-to-teacher conversation.

They’re gonna know, you think, chewing on the inside of her cheek as Ashido raises her hand, a smile on her lips.

“Y-Yes, Ashido?”

“What kind of exchange was that?! He’s into you!”

“And I’m married. Happily married, in fact!”

“Well can we see those pictures?” she chirps, gaining agreements from her classmates.

“Yeah Ms. Y/LN! I bet the venue was really awesome!” Kirishima yells from the back, a bright smile on his face.

“I do have a couple photos,” you mutter, scratching your chin in thought. “By myself of course. I won’t show the others just yet.”

Your eyes gaze across the class before stopping on a bi-colored boy, staring into his cerulean orbs.

Todoroki stares at you with a stoic look upon his face, messing with the click of his blue pen. He knows exactly why you’re avoiding all these questions but to be honest— he’s glad you’re doing this. A sense of relief washes over the both of you.

The ding of the bell circulates the entire building as the shuffling of students and loud chatter come alive. Scraping of the chairs abruptly bump into the desk as the teenagers file out of class, happy that class is finally over.

A pleased sigh leaves your lips as you grab your class keys, making your way out of your classroom. After locking your room, you walk down the hallway, passing by multiple students on your way to the teachers’ lounge.

School had begun last week after winter break, but you returned to school this week. The school was generous enough to grant you two more extra weeks off. And of course, you and your husband used the time wisely.

Mrs. Todoroki. You loved the sound of that.

You push open the door to the restricted areas and close it behind you, not seeing anyone in the area.

“Hello?” you call out cautiously as you walk in, glancing around as you make a beeline for the coffeemaker. “Is anyone there?”

As if on cue, Touya emerges from around the corner of the room, a playful smile on his lips. “Fancy seeing you here, doll.”

You hum in return as you approach him, slithering your arms around his chest. “You as well.”

“So I take it the students are curious?” he gets right to the point—there isn’t a way to beat around the bush with the many questions the kids are asking, especially if they think it's their chemistry teacher.

“Very curious,” you mutter as you look up at him. “Ashido kept asking about it, Yayaorozu kept saying how love shouldn’t be hidden.”

“I heard they were asking for photos as well. Why don’t you show them?”

“Are you crazy?” you ask with a huff as you pinch his side, feeling nothing but clothing underneath your fingertips. “Do you know how crazy my class will be if I say that?”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“They’re also your students...”

“Well, that’s different,” he leans down and presses his lips against your forehead, lingering for a second before pulling away. “Plus they’re always trying to set you up with me.”

“Yeah, I know, even though I told them countless times that I hated Chemistry.”

“What if I could change your mind?” he whispers, tilting your chin up to face him. “Would you let me, Mrs. Todoroki?” His lips brush against yours, not daring to push any further.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” your eyes flutter shut as you lean forward to press against him, only for him to pull back and make you stumble forward. “H-Hey!”

“Sorry, honey. School rules.” His smirk causes heat to rise to your face but ignites a subtle anger inside you. “Maybe when we get home.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

In the hallways, Touya hums to himself as he holds his papers to his chest, the keys jingling in his pocket. A tuft of red hair catches his eye and he lets out a laugh, ruffling his younger brother’s hair. “Why do you look like that?! What got you in a mood today?”

Shouto brushes his hand away from his head and stares up at him. “You guys are making it obvious.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Touya asks as he enters his empty classroom, turning the lights on as his brother trails from behind. There was still about ten minutes left of lunch, but most teachers were prepping their class for the next session.

“You know what I’m talking about. You guys promised you would keep it subtle at school. That exchange you two had earlier, made it seem like something was going on. The girls are devising a plan to get you guys together.”

“Well where is the problem with that?” `An eyebrow raises in curiosity as Touya sits down in his chair, clasping his hands on his desk. “It’s good no? Then we won’t have to hide anymore.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird if I’m calling my English teacher aunt instead of ‘Ms.’?”

“Well just don’t. Keep calling her by her maiden name.”

“It’s already bad that I’m related to you!”

“What, do you not like Y/N? Is that what this is about, Shouto? Do you not like my wife?” His piercing gaze causes a shiver to run down the younger boy’s back, not liking to be under his brother’s intense stare; especially if it was about his wife.

“No that’s not it. Of course I like her. She’s better than you in every aspect. I just don’t want people to know. That’s all.”

“So what you’re saying is, you don’t want us to interact like we aren’t married and ignore your classmates' attempts to get us together?”

“..yes that’s exactly what I want.”

“Too bad,” he simply states as he leans back in his chair, letting out a yawn as he glances down at his watch before glancing back up. “Now move along before I give you an F on this test just so dad can shit on you.”

A growl leaves the younger brother’s lips as he swiftly walks to his seat in the back of the science classroom and drops his bag, making his way out of the room.

Touya lets out a huff of air and grabs his phone from his pants. “Getting upset over something little,” he mutters, as the screen lights up and a smile forms on his lips.

His lock screen is a photo of you in the snow in your years of dating. The sun was angled perfectly at your face as you reached up to catch some snowflakes that would melt in your hand. That day was the day Touya had asked you to marry him.

Time flies by as the second warning bell rings, startling him from his thoughts. Saliva goes down the wrong way and he coughs abruptly into his hand, sitting straight up as his students walk into the room. As each teen walks past his desk, they give him a puzzled look and go on their way.

After a few moments of unnecessary coughing, Touya finally catches the attention of the class, immediately telling them the agenda for the day. Of course as usual, groans of protest are thrown into the air, but their teacher couldn’t care less.

Group work is thrown around as kids pick out their team members; although he can already predict who is pairing up with who.

The girls all gather together as Bakugou, Kirishima, Sero and Kaminari group up. Being their teacher for so long, he has gotten the hang of every student’s attitude and who they work best with.

“So like I was thinking, maybe you can ask Ms. Y/LN help for homework, and then I can ask him for help with something in her room! Or maybe or maybe you can sabotage something in her room and I can call him!” Ashido proudly explains her master plan, chin up in the air as a cheeky grin makes it way onto her face. “It’ll work!”

Her friends stare at her like she’s a genius, minus Jirou.

“Uh huh, and what if he sees right through your plan? Mr. Todoroki isn’t stupid either. Neither is Todoroki, he’ll probably just tell him right there. And then we’ll get in trouble. And she’s married.”

“You didn’t let me finish, Jirou! That’s why our lovely Yaoyorozu will be a distraction for Todoroki! Plus her and Mr. Todoroki are much cuter!”

“M-Me?!” Yaoyorozu gasps, looking up from her worksheet. “Why can’t Uraraka do it?!”

“Because she’s going to be getting Mr. Todoroki of course. Now keep your voice down before he hears us,” Ashido hisses, lowering her head. “It’ll work. It’s perfect.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

The plan is now in effect. School is finally over as the girls rush to the spots Ashido assigned to them. Will it work? Who knows.

Uraraka rushes down the hallway to the science room where Mr. Todoroki will be. She peeks her head inside the classroom and her blood goes cold.

The room is dark, as his belongings are gone.

“M-Mr. Todoroki?” she calls out as looks over her shoulder, before hesitantly walking into the room, rubbing her arms. She gulps and glances around the empty classroom, trying to find any clues as to where her teacher went. “Mr. Todoroki, M-Ms. Y/LN needs help!”

Still, she was met with silence.

Uraraka stays silent for a moment longer before a lightbulb turns on in her mind. “Shit,” she whispers as walks out of the room, her eyes widening when Todoroki is in front of her. “You scared me, Todoroki!”

“Why were you in there?” he asks, eyes narrowed in suspicion as he glances his classmate up and down. “Don’t you know that school ended ten minutes ago?”

Uraraka goes blank as she frantically wracks her brain for anything, something. She’ll take anything.

“Where is Yayaorozu?!” she blurts out of the blue, hands immediately going to her mouth.

Shit. She wasn’t supposed to say that.

“Yayaorozu?” he asks with confusion evident in his voice as he raises an eyebrow. “Why would I know where she’s at?”

“S-She didn--”

“She didn’t what? What are you even talking about?”

“Where is your brother at?”

He mouths the words once more as his look of confusion changes to a cold stare. “Why do you need my brother?”

“Well you see uh-”

“Uraraka, abort the mission!” Ashido’s screech bounces off of the hallway walls as she sprints down the corridor, stopping in front of her classmates as she pants heavily, leaning over. “Don’t get Mr. Todor- Hi, Todoroki!”

“Can one of you tell me why you need him?”

“We can’t!” Uraraka and Ashido blurt in unison.

“Well...why can’t you? He’s my brother.”

It’s quiet amongst the students as Todoroki mutters things under his breath before he looks at his classmates. “..Yayaorozu is looking for Ms. Y/LN, isn’t she?”

Both girls stare at him with gaped mouths, blinking a couple times in shock.

Todoroki mutters a curse under his lips as he swiftly turns on his heels and marches down the hall, gripping the strap of his backpack.

Oblivious to the anxious teens and an unhappy boy, you stacked papers into their respective dividers as your husband hums to himself, going through the files in his bag.

“How was today?” you ask, breaking the silence as you glance over your shoulder.

“It was fine. Same as every other day. Except the girls were being somewhat weird today.”

“Oh?” That caught your attention.

“Mhm,” he confirms with a nod of his head as he takes his glasses off, staring into your eyes. “I heard them whispering and giggling and kept taking glances my way. I heard them bring up your name from time to time.”

“Is that so,” you mutter, looking down at your desk. “Must have been something else then.”

“Actually that’s not all.”

“Well how much is there, honey?” you laugh and sit down on your chair. “What else happened?”

“Shouto told me they’re trying to set us up.”

Set you up? Like prank you two?

Before you could speak, he interrupts your train of thought. “As in a relationship. They want us together.”

“Well that’s odd.”

“Also Shouto got upset because he said we were being too ‘obvious.’”

You roll your eyes at his words. Poor Shouto. He’s already embarrassed that his science teacher is his brother, and now that his aunt is his English teacher, that might even tortue the boy.

“Shouto is so skeptical. Tell him things will be okay.”

“Maybe you should tell him that. I’m sure he’ll love to hear it from his auntie.”

“Oh whatever, Touya.” You smile and pack up your things, him following suit. “They can’t get far. I think soon they’ll figure out we’re taken and won’t attempt anymore till we’re ready to tell them.”

Todoroki turns the corner with three girls trailing behind him. Of course each girl was nervous out of their mind. What would their teachers think if they found out they were being set up?

Especially if one is married?

The youngest Todoroki sibling approaches the english room, drowning their calls out for him. He reaches out to grab a hold of the knob but the door is opened by the person inside.

From the outside, it is obvious that they could hear your laugh and his chuckling. Your voices grow louder as you appear in the door frame, holding Touya’s hand in yours.

The three girls let out screams and cover their mouths, eyes open like a fish out of water. “You-”

“They-”

“MARRIED?!” Ashido shrieks, batting her eyelashes and wipes her eyes, making sure she saw what she saw. “You guys are together?!”

You let out a sheepish smile and looked down at your conjoined hands. “Yeah. We are. No point in hiding it now huh, Touya?”

He nods in agreement and pats Shouto on the head, ruffling his hair on purpose. “And we have to get this kid back home before our dad kicks my ass.”

“Will you show us your wedding photos now?!” Uraraka and Yayaorozu beg, a twinkle in their eyes.

You purse your lips at the thought before a defeated sigh slips your lips. “You know what, I will. And that’s all I’ll be doing tomorrow.”

“...wait, but this isn’t adding up,” Ashido adds quickly, scratching her chin in thought. “I thought you hated Chemistry.”

“Oh, I hate it with a passion. But Touya makes it much more bearable.”

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #mha #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #touya x reader #my hero academia #boko no hero academia #my hero academia x reader #boko no hero academia x reader #aoa secret santa event

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id-never-letyoudown · 3 years ago

Text

Uhhhh part two of the rare pair part 1

"Sleep well, Dove?"

"It's too early for your nonsense." Henry complained, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He had not. Slept well, that is. It was the damn nightmares again. They always came this time of year.

Henry had already visited the field. That usually helped things, but not this time.

"Tell me about them."

"Them what?"

"The nightmares." Even though he already knew well enough what they were about. "The men." Wilbur already knew. He's been in Henry's head more times than he could count. He had to make sure he was the right one for the job, after all. He didn't dig through everything in that mess Henry called a mind. His thoughts were constantly all over the place. And why were there so many musicals and chemical compositions in that thing?

Besides, he needed Henry to trust him if this thing was going to work. Something told him digging around that brain of his wouldn't end well.

Henry paused, looking down at his steaming mug of coffee. "They were dear friends of mine. Lovers." He takes a sip, it's more bitter than usual. "I was the cause of their deaths. Though... you already knew that." His eyes flick up to meet Wilbur's over the rim of his mug. "Didn't you?"

"..."

"I knew I could feel something rooting around. You were scoping me out before we even formally met, weren't you?" Henry grins in victory, setting his coffee down with a satisfying 'clack' against the marble counter.

"Aren't you supposed to be pissed?"

"If anything I'm intrigued! Can you read everyone's minds?" He leaned against the counter, head propped in his hand. "Ooo-what else do you know about me? I want the details."

Wilbur snorted, "Course I can. And for the record I don't know everything about you. I stopped looking around after a bit."

"Oh? So I still got some secrets then?" Henry would have thought he'd have long since taken advantage of his abilities. Know him inside and out. "Huh, seems I've pegged you wrong."

"You couldn't peg me at all." He grins.

Henry only shrugged. And something told Wilbur that he didn't get the joke.

Wilbur clears his throat, "Anyway, uh, wanna hear about which of the Monroe brats isn't Gerald's? The answer may shock you." Like a damn click bait article.

Henry's eyes light up, a loud gasp escaping him. "I knew it!" He was always down for gossip. And a scandal like that? It was right up his alley.

Wilbur enjoyed watching the man lose his shit with every little Hatchetfield secret he told him. And there were a lot. He could tell Henry was plenty skeptical of him, but he was getting there. Little by little.

Henry walked into the kitchen to fetch some refreshments for his monthly 'date night' with John and Xander. Used to be bi-monthly. And before that it'd been weekly. Nowadays he found the pair trying to gently nudge him away. And normally it wouldn't have bothered him. But they hadn't started doing this until after he was let go from P.E.I.P. Which made him think.

And think.

And overthink.

He had no problem with leaving the relationship. If they were to simply ask him. But all these hints? He could do without. Xander kept trying to set him up on blind dates. And John was cold. Even when the three of them were intimate. Especially when the three of them were intimate.

It really got him thinking....

His hand barely touches his turtleneck. Was it... no, it couldn't possibly be the scars. John had plenty of his own. Although, baring witness to how Henry got them probably made that very, very different. And there was the nerve damage. And the pain. Which always got worse when there was a storm approaching.

John was his friend. He didn't want him thinking he was responsible for any of that. He should call him-

His phone began ringing, as if on cue. He fetches it from his pocket. Of all the coincidences-

He answers it immediately. "I was just thinking about you, say we really ought to have a chat when you two get here-" his stomach sinks at the reply. "Oh... so, you can't make it then?... No, no. I understand. I hope you two have fun." And he hung up.

He looks at the bottle in his hand. At the neatly set dinner table. At the flowers he picked himself. Apparently the date the three of them made their 'throuple', as the kids called it, official wasn't all that important to them.

Such a shame he had to spend the day alone.

Or... not.

"... Wilbur, how do you like your steak?"

Wilbur was always there, even when he thought he wasn't. He didn't know why he felt comfort in that.

"Who was that?" Xander commented, fixing his tie in the mirror.

"Henry. I was telling him about how we couldn't make... it...." He trailed off when he walked into their bedroom and saw his husband getting dressed. "Where are you going?'

Xander paused, standing up straight. "Couldn't make it next month, right?... You told him next month, right?"

John pressed his lips into a fine line. "Iiiii thought you said-"

"John!" Xander dropped his tie. "Why would I tell you to tell him that we wouldn't be able to make it on the three of us' anniversary?"

"It was a mistake-I'll just call him back real quick." John did not want to face his husband's wrath, he could already feel his eyes melting the back of his skull as he dialed Henry's number. "It's just going straight to voicemail-"

"Get dressed, we're going anyways. And y o u can explain the mix-up."

"Where'd you learn to cook?" Wilbur asked him. Not that he needed to eat. Or had a great sense of taste nowadays. But it was nice to have something to chew on now and again. And it smelled amazing.

"Oh, my aunt. This is all from her recipe book." He seemed rather proud of that fact.

"Well, safe to say those two are missing out."

Henry hums. He's been quiet all through dinner. Still down about being cancelled on with such short notice. "You know what? They are." He stabs his fork a little too forcefully, and sends his mashed potatoes straight in the air. And right smack in his face.

They both pause.

And then Wilbur starts laughing. Which sets Henry into his own fit of giggling.

"Do you hear that?" Xander paused on Henry's doorstep, hearing the laughter coming from inside.

"Doesn't sound like he's alone." John muses, trying to see if he could sneak a peek through one of the windows. He can see Henry fine. But whoever it is he's with is just out of sight.

"John!" Xander whisper shouts, tugging on his husband's sleeve. "You can't just spy on our friend like that!"

"Aren't you curious?" John looks back at Xander.

"I-well-yes! But not enough to spy on him!"

The two continue to bicker quietly, or, they thought they were being quiet.

Wilbur looks over his glass, humming. "You've got guests." The curtains then shut themselves. It was a good thing neither of them could see him. He doubted seeing the former colonel would sit well with either of them. Especially John.

"What-" Henry looks towards the door, face now free of the mess from before. He can hear exactly who it is too. And it both confuses and ticks him off.

"And they know you're not alone. They won't buy it if you say you are." Wilbur stands up, "Gotta make them leave somehow."

Henry wracks his brain for an idea. And seeing as he's well into that bottle of wine, they're not really thought out. "... You can change your appearance, right?"

Wilbur locks eyes with Henry, a grin splitting across his face.

"Just knock."

"You knock-"

Henry opens the door a crack, taking a peek at the two of them. "... I thought you two couldn't make it." He responds plainly, not even greeting them.

"There was a mix-up." Xander explained, elbowing his husband to elaborate.

"I meant to tell you that we wouldn't be able to make it next time." John tells him.

"Well, that's unfortunate." Henry wraps his fingers around the door, glancing back into the house. "Because I ended up taking your advice, Xander. And I think it'd be terribly awkward of me to explain to my date."

Xander is equal parts thrilled and... well, confused. Thrilled because he wanted Henry to have someone to lean on when they weren't around. And confused because Henry had always outright refused whenever Xander brought up mixers or blind dates. "That's wonderful, Hen! Do we know who it is?"

"I ah-well-" Henry blinked, shit. He didn't even know who Wilbur was going to come around that corner looking like-

"Gary Goldstein, attorney at law!" Henry nearly jumped when the man announced himself. His face flushed. He let the door open fully, and there he was. The supposed Gary Goldstein. A faithful rendition, he'd say.

It was an... awkward conversation to say the least. When Henry finally managed to turn the two away he locked the door behind them.

"Whatthefuckwasthat?"

"You didn't tell me w h o to look like! I just chose a rando guy!"

"I... goddamnit." Henry stood there, trying not to laugh at the thoughts that had to be bouncing around in John and Xander's head right about now. "At least you chose someone at least somewhat attractive."

"Yeah, cuz talking non-stop about audits is so attractive." Wilbur runs a hand through his hair, the illusion dropping almost instantly.

Henry smiles, wine getting to his head. "That's much better."

"What?"

"... Hm? Oh, nothing. This was fun. Should do it again sometime."

"You're really going to make an entire plotline-"

"Is that what we're calling our 'reality scheming'?"

"-be quiet, are you really creating an entire plot based off of one thing this Matthews guy said to you?"

".... Yes, of course. Naturally. I'm calling it 'The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals'... hm, sure is a mouthful. What do you think?" Henry slides over his tablet to show Wilbur, who doesn't know if he should be impressed or not.

He rolls his eyes, leaning over to get a good look at it. "... You know, I think the big man might actually get a kick out of this."

"Speaking of, am I ever going to meet this 'Wiggley' character?" Henry slides his tablet back, tapping on the screen before resuming his scribbling.

"Depends on how well you perform, Dove-"

"Why do you call me that?" Henry looked up, reading glasses askew. He pulls them off to clean them up, fetching a cloth from his coat pocket.

"What, you don't like it?" Like that'd stop him. Wilbur watches Henry. He can't decide if he likes him better with or without the glasses-

"I just find it odd, is all. I don't mind it." He slides them back on, looking back up at him once again. "You called me that the first time we met-"

"That wasn't the first time we met."

"Excuse me?"

Wilbur is no longer sitting on the table. Henry thinks he's up and left until he finds him sitting in the living room, just barely visible from the kitchen. He gets up and follows him with a huff.

"I watched you for a while, before that day. I saw a lot of things." He chuckles, "Lotta embarrassing things too. But that's not the point." He pops his feet up on the coffee table. "I saw you with that bird a while back. You were talking to it. Thought it was kinda kooky, kinda sweet."

Henry has to think for a while, and then his face softens. "The bird you saw was one I nursed back to health." He sighs, walking up to him and kicking his legs so he's forced to move them. "Get your damn feet off my mahogany." He then walks past him, just to sit on the other end of the couch.

Wilbur scowls. He could kill Henry so easily, doesn't he know that? "How kind."

"It was either that or put it out of its misery." Henry makes himself comfortable, leaning back on the couch.

"I doubt you'd have the guts to do that."

"You don't think I'm capable of mercy killing? That's laughable." Henry eyes him, "Look in my mind and find out. Go on. You have my permission."

Wilbur did. And it hit him all at once. It wasn't that the scene shocked him. He just hadn't been prepared for the rush of emotion.

He saw Henry's hands. Injecting something into an IV drip. Shaking as they did so. And a man. So pale and sickly. Just lying on the bed. But he was smiling. And that's all he could see before Henry pushed him out.

"Promise me something, Wilbur."

He looked at him. So he actually was going to use that damn condition then? "... What?"

"Don't ever underestimate me or think me incapable." He curled up on the couch, looking ready to settle in for some sleep. "Promise me, Wilbur." His eyes weren't leaving him anytime soon.

"... I promise."

Henry seemed satisfied, now closing his eyes. "Alexa, play my Sleep playlist."

As soft music filled the room, Wilbur realized that maybe he bit off more than he could chew. Henry was chosen for a reason. He had to remember that.

He also realized it really didn't take long for Henry to fall asleep. At all. Out like a light.

Wilbur gets up, not even thinking when he takes the professor's glasses off for him. "Dumbass."

#tgwdlm #cridgens #henry hidgens #wilbur cross #professor hidgens #black friday musical

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youngerdrgrey · 4 years ago

Text

you thinking about me? // a Batwoman fic

Alternate 2x13 scene. No ClueMaster, just Ryan and Sophie alone with the tequila as Mary goes to the bathroom.

At best, Ryan only has to last five minutes alone with Sophie. She can do five minutes without picking a fight.

“So,” Ryan sinks her elbow further into the back of the couch, “did you make out with Batwoman before or after leaving your husband?" + read on ao3

Sophie asks the question like they should all be in on the joke together. “I don’t know, Ryan. Why would it make absolutely no sense for the new Batwoman to have saved you?”

Ryan blinks the question in. “Huh?”

But Sophie waves the question off with a laugh. “It’s okay.” She reaches for her glass on the table while Ryan turns her gaze to Mary.

This is exactly why they should’ve never been drinking with Sophie Moore. Sophie couldn’t have a good time if she handcuffed it to the table beside her. Now, she’s speaking in riddles when the true focus should be on the fact that Sophie was apparently aiding and abetting Batwoman long before Ryan got into the suit. More like aiding and a-bedding.

Mary pushes herself up from her seat. “Bathroom!” She pauses after a slight stumble to say, “Please don’t fight while I’m gone.” She shoots a pleading look specifically at Ryan.

Ryan throws her hands up in surrender — a familiar pose when Crowphie’s around. Mary takes that as enough of a concession to rush off for the bathroom. She normally only takes a few minutes, but a drunk Mary is much more likely to be distracted. At best, Ryan only has to last five minutes alone with Sophie. She can do five minutes without picking a fight.

“So,” Ryan sinks her elbow further into the back of the couch, “did you make out with Batwoman before or after leaving your husband?”

Sophie ticks her jaw to the side. “Before.”

Ryan’s eyebrows shoot up. “Didn’t take you for a cheater.”

Sophie barely swallows a scoff. “Didn’t know you’d take me anywhere. What would Angelique think?”

“Don’t.” Ryan cuts a glare across the couch at Sophie. The Crow might’ve helped get Angelique back, but that doesn’t make them friends.

Sophie turns her head towards Ryan. “So you can make jokes and I can’t?”

“You’d have to be funny to make jokes, Crowphie.”

“You make the same joke every time you see me. Doesn’t it get old?”

“Does working for a corrupt system get old?”

“What do you think?” Sophie fully shifts on the couch so they’re facing each other. The couch hadn’t felt small before, but with Sophie angled Ryan’s way and Ryan’s arm still on the back of the couch, well, it doesn’t exactly feel roomy.

“I…”

Sophie motions for Ryan to start. “Go on. You want to tell me about myself so bad, so go. Who am I? What do I want? Why am I here?”

Honestly, those are Ryan’s questions. Sophie’s been everywhere lately. Sure, she’s chasing down Kate and Black Mask, but it’s like spending time with Sophie is inescapable. She’s here after yet another Crows bust, which is weird since Sophie’s normally the one leading them. Not that trigger happy ass-hat who stormed in there tonight.

Ryan’s eyebrows furrow. “Wait, did you get taken off the Black Mask case?” That would explain why Sophie needed a distraction.

“I—“ Sophie narrows her eyes. “You think I’m here on a case?”

“Why else would you be here?” Ryan asks. Sophie had to be dragged to the bar by her younger sister and still ordered a club soda. The only time Ryan has ever seen Sophie out on her own was when Ryan messed up Sophie’s covert opp. Crowphie doesn’t do friends and casual chats. She always has a motive.

Sophie drops her voice. “Mary. She…. I worry about her.”

Ryan says, “I worry enough for the both of us. And I actually live here.”

“Yeah, well, I owe it to Kate to be here,” Sophie says. Of course it goes back to Kate. “Besides, it’s nice, being here. Even with you antagonizing me for wanting some company.”

“You could go find some.” There’s gotta be someone out there who won’t mind the rest of the company that Sophie keeps.

Sophie laughs. “My track record isn’t exactly great. And I’m pretty sure I can’t find another masked vigilante to pass the time.”

Ryan nods. “Can’t flip the signal for a booty call.”

“Yeah,” Sophie meets Ryan’s eyes again, “it’s not a pager, right?”

Ryan pauses. They’ve had this conversation. Both parts of it. Is this what Sophie’s after? Is this why Sophie made that comment about the new Batwoman versus the O.G.? Does Sophie know?

Ryan backtracks. “There are easier ways to find a woman in uniform.”

Sophie eases her stare. “It wasn’t about the uniform. It was about… the safety. Being with her felt exciting but comfortable. I could almost see what my life could’ve been like, if I hadn’t….”

“Been a Crow?” Traded in her soul for some badge and a gun?

Sophie shakes her head. “Been afraid. I spent my whole life terrified of letting people see me, and being with her felt like the best way to shut that out. But….”

“What happened? You turned her in?” Ryan asks. Her curiosity overpowers her usual biting tone. There’s a lot about Sophie and Kate’s relationship that Ryan doesn’t know.

Sophie gives a humorless laugh. “Worse. She asked me if I would be willing to be with her without her mask. If knowing who she was behind it — knowing the woman behind it — would change how I felt, or whether I wanted to be with her. Whether I was ready to be honest about who I really am.”

It’s not that Ryan isn’t ready to be honest about being Batwoman. It’s that Batwoman is more than just Ryan. The fact that Kate would’ve been willing to reveal herself to Sophie…. Was it just fool-hearted, or could Sophie actually be trusted? Ryan’s past tells her one thing, but sometimes, Sophie looks at her with those brown eyes so open and…. Sometimes, it doesn’t seem so bad to maybe have to let her in. For Mary’s sake.

Ryan asks, “Were you ready?”

Sophie finally breaks eye contact to glance down at her drink. “Not then. But, if I had another chance, I would be.”

But there is no other chance. With Kate gone and with everything Ryan and Sophie have gone through, this has to be it, right? Their roles are set. Sophie’s always going to choose the rules over what’s right, and Ryan… is so not thinking about this.

Still, Ryan can give a peace offering rather than start another fight. “Tell me — did the cowl ever get in the way?”

Sophie barely misses a beat. She gives Ryan this quirked brow look; it’s almost flirty. “You asking for a friend?”

Ryan shrugs, a bit of a smile on her lips. Tomorrow, she’ll go back to denying she’s ever considered it. But it would be kind of hot to make out in the suit. Maybe let Sophie go two for two on her scorecard.

Sophie shakes her head. “You know what, I am not drunk enough to answer that.”

“Bottoms up.”

“That another joke, or wishful thinking?”

Ryan laughs, and Sophie joins in. Down the hall, Mary breathes out a “Finally.”

notes: Let me know what you thought! It has been far too long since I've written fic.

This fic started with the lines "Didn't know you thought about me," and "I don't.” The point being: I keep going back to Ryan voicing that she thought Sophie was bi, and maybe Ryan wondering what Sophie's experiences might've been like as a Black lesbian who was in denial for a long time. Regardless of their relationship, I really do love these two and want more of them both separately and together.

#batwoman #ryan wilder #sophie moore #ryan x sophie #wildmoore #mine #batwoman cw #batwoman fic #batwoman: 213

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 4 years ago

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Sigyn Notes: Thor

This is just a rough outline of what I have planned for Sigyn during the course of the first Thor movie. Consider this the writer version of a pencil sketch before the final product. I want to start normalizing this for fic writers. Let me know if you’d like to see more outlines like this!

Background: Sigyn is already married to Loki before the start of the movie. Established that they’ve been married for some time, but don’t have any kids.

Scene between her and Loki before the coronation where Loki expresses his doubts of Thor becoming king, Sigyn expresses them as well, but tries to assure him all will be well

“Who ever said I was wise?” Loki smiled, but it faded as he quietly took Sigyn’s other hand in his.

“Do you think he will make a good king?” he asked, occupying himself with their intertwined fingers.

She didn’t speak for a moment looking down as well.

“I think that Thor still has a lot to learn when it comes to being King,” she said, carefully. “He can be arrogant and has penchant to show off, not mention his needs to learn how to heed advice.”

Loki nodded his head as she spoke, agreeing wholeheartedly with her words.

“That being said,” she continued, “I would say the same of you. “

Loki looked up at her with creased brows.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” she said looking him in the eye. “You’re clever Loki, extraordinarily so. The problem is you know it, and you let it get to your head. When your ego is bruised you try everything in you power to rectify it, by playing tricks. And Odin knows you need to listen to me more often than you do.”

Loki’s face remained neutral, but Sigyn could tell he was at least a little insulted by her words. She placed a gentle hand on his cheek.

“But I still think you would make a great king. You would grow into your role, as will Thor now. Your father is still alive to guide him. And you are much too clever to allow him to do anything too reckless.”

Loki allowed a small smile to escape his lips.

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t sensible.”

“One of us has to be.”

Dresses in Loki’s colors during Thor’s crowing and stands by his side

Frost Giants attack during the crowning

Destroyer kills the frost giants

Loki goes with Thor and Odin to the vault, Sigyn stays behind with Frigga and Sif

She and Frigga have a brief conversation about how the Frost giants could have gotten in while Sif and the Warriors three consult each other

Sigyn and Frigga both come to the conclusion of some sort of illusion, as they don’t see how Heimdall could have missed it, but they give it no further thought than that

Sigyn assists Frigga in appeasing and reassuring the guest as everyone leaves

Sigyn catches Loki as he’s about to leave with Thor

They have a brief interaction as he leaves in which she tells him to be careful

“I believe you said it would be my duty to stop him from doing anything too reckless,” Loki said, lightly.

“Yes, “stop” being the key word.”

“Fear not, Lady Sigyn,” Fandral assured, lazy draping and arm over Loki’s shoulders. “We shall return, and with your husband all in one piece.”

Before they’re about to leave, Loki leans down as if to kiss her goodbye. He then instructs her to tell Odin where they are going; Sigyn nods in understanding and as soon as they’re out of sight, she runs to tell the All Father exactly what is happening

Sigyn meets Sif and the Warriors 3 when they return; they explain everything and Sigyn feels instant guilt of not getting to Odin sooner

She assist in healing Fandral and Volstagg (establishes her magical abilities)

Soon enough Loki returns with just Odin and the All Father tells them Thor has been banished

Sigyn is in shock at the news, but does not question the decision as she trusts Odin to know what is best for the kingdom and his son, still she goes to Loki to check to see if he’s alright

Loki is noticeably distracted and avoids her questions

She tries again when he storms out after the fight with the Warriors Three, but still Loki refuses to even looks at her, fully pulling away from her touch as if it burns him

Sigyn asks him if it’s because she didn’t tell Odin earlier that he blames her for Thor’s banishment; Loki assures her it’s not her fault, but still won’t give her an answer to why he’s avoiding her

She is in their room when Loki comes in to tell her that Odin has fallen into the Odin sleep

Sigyn comforts him and Loki breaks down telling her he needs to show her something

He takes her back down to the vault and shows her his true form, telling her everything that Odin had told him; he tells her then, he would not blame her if she left a monster like him

Sigyn assures him otherwise, stating that she doesn't care, he is still the man she agreed to marry all those years ago and still loves him now

Sigyn remained silent, taking the time to full examine every inch of his blue skin, lingering on the distinctive lines, tracing them upwards until she met his red eyes.

Loki wanted to turn away from her. He could not bare the thought of seeing disgust when he so often found love in her gaze. But, he needed her to see. He needed to be honest with her, even if he so often lied to everybody else. She deserved that.

Slowly, she step forward. Her hand reached out. Ever so gently found it came to rest against his cheek. His skin burned under her touch. The urge to pull away clashed with his instinct to keep her there beside him.

The corner of her lip turned up into a tired smile. “Is that all?”

She tries to assist Frigga while Loki talks with Sif and Warriors 3

Sif goes to Sigyn to get her to talk to Loki

Sigyn expresses her own suspicions of Loki once Sif brings their interaction to light

She and Loki have a conversation about Loki now being King and her Queen: Sigyn expresses her own doubts of being a Queen and how she never expected or necessarily wanted to be Queen

“It’s an honor I never expected,” she said, quietly. “And, if I may be honest, not one I ever truly wanted.”

“You married a prince of Asgard, surely you knew it was a possibility,” Loki said, trying and failing to keep the defensiveness out of his tone.

“Only if a number of tragedies occurred, as they have. I will learn to do my duty and make you a good Queen, but I do mourn the loss of what our life was.”

“It’s only because you do not see what our life could be.”

Sigyn starts to realize the extent of Loki’s ambition as she questions him and brings up her and Sif’s conversation

Loki tells Thor Odin is dead and goes to Jotunheim

Sigyn goes to Sif and the Warriors 3 with her suspicions of Loki, Heimdall summons them and Sigyn promises to stay behind and cover for them

She still doesn’t fully believe Loki is capable of betraying Thor like that

Thor returns and Sigyn is confronted with the reality of the truth

While Thor and Loki are fighting, Sigyn tries to use her magic to unfreeze the Bifrost, she ends up having to fight Loki as a result

The fight between her and Loki is brief, but in Loki’s eyes Sigyn has fully betrayed him while Sigyn simply want him to stop

Loki ends up knocking her out, leaving her out of the fight until the Bi-Frost explodes and he lets go

Sigyn is left to grieve the death of her husband while Loki plans his revenge

#marvel #mcu #loki #sigyn #loki x sigyn #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #logyn #thor #my oc stuff

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aliciadelaplaya · 3 years ago

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So what should TRF do, exactly?

Yet again there have been almost defeaning calls on SM for TRF to DO SOMETHING about the Sussexes. So, I’d like to address this question, maybe throw in something of a reality check.

Most people should know by now that it is not in HMTQ’s power to remove the Sussex titles. This can only be done by an Act of Parliament, and primary legislation at that.

This means that the “motion” has to be debated by both the House of Commons and House of Lords.

Now, just think for a minute, a debate, in the house of commons, with all those Black Female Labour MPs banging on about removing the titles from the, supposedly, first bi-racial member of TRF. Goodness, if people thought that the Sussexes incoherent and contradictory mud slinging about “conversations” about the colour of Archie’s skin was damaging to TRF, how much worse would it be to hear elected representatives of the British people (however ignorant, biased and downright stupid) accuse TRF of racism in The Mother of Parliaments. Now that would be seriously damaging.

And of course The British Government has far more important things it needs to Parliamentary time for.

Also, there is some sort of notion floating around Social Media that if HMTQ asks Parliament, then it will immediately be given. Anyone who knows anything about the hundreds of years that it has taken the UK to go from an absolute to constitutional monarchy knows damn well that a) HMTQ would never dream of asking and b) HM’s Government would in no way automatically acceed to any request made by the Sovereign.

Some people seem to think that we live in some sort of medieaval kingdom with an all powerful Monarch.

Yet, there are still those who are jumping up and down, calling HMTQ and PC fit to burn because they are “Not Doing Anything”

OK, so put your money where your mouth is?

What should they do?

Exactly.

Go on,

tell us.

What would you do if one of your sons or brothers, daughters or sisters had got themselves ensnared with a dangerous narcissist? When every word of warning, every well-meant piece of advice does nothing more than drive them further into the arms of their addiction.

What would you do if their mental state before they met this person was a matter of family concern and now, far from your care, deaf to your entreaties, was publicly deteriorating to the point that they have become a world-wide laughing stock?

Tell us. What would you do? They are an adult, one who has not been sectioned, free to make their own choices, to lead their own life. They are your family. What do you do?

How exactly are you going to stop him talking about you, spreading lies and gossip? Go on, tell us, we’re dying to know.

What would you do if your beloved family member had made it clear to you that if their spouse leaves them, they will kill themselves? Go on, what would you do?

What would you do if you believed that anything your family did could be the cause of anger on the part of the narcissist and put your loved one in danger. What would you do, exactly, to stop them? Please tell us. There are a lot of people out there who would love to know.

“Cut them off” many people are crying! But that is what we know PC has done, albeit after providing his younger son and his wife with a substantial gift to help set them up in their new lives, as per the Megxit agreement.

Tell the truth about the surrogates? Yes, we would all like that, we know that niether of those children were born of her body, that they are not entitled to a place in the line of succession. Yet, however much we jump up and down and say that TRF is “public property”, the fact is, they too are still entitled to basic human rights, and one of those is privacy. It is not for TRF to tell the truth about the surrogacies, it is not their story to tell. It is for Harry and his wife. One day the truth will come out, it always does. The TRF can not be the ones to let the cat out of the bag. They just can not.

OK, so people jump up and down saying that HMTQ and PC are showing weakness by not responding to all these attacks. So tell us, what exactly would you do? Exactly, what would you have done when?

They said that you don’t own the rights to the word Royal (which is true)? When every single speech that woman made duing lockdown by Zoom has a dig at your family. Would you respond? How? Exactly.

When they set up a photoshoot trampling over war graves, insulting the memories of both the US and the UK fallen? What would you have done to stop it? Go on, do tell?

I can’t be arsed to dig out the list of all the insults, swipes etc that these two have levelled at TRF, HMTQ, PC etc. Geniunely because I’ve forgotten most of them, there have been so many, they have lost their currency, they have been devaluted. Even the massive fall out from the “bombshell” whineathon with OW, was overtaken by more whinging, it’s a deluge. How could the sitatuation have been helped if, as it was rumoured PC wanted to do, each accusation was thoroughly challenged. Can you imagine?

How many of you own or run companies? How many of you have had, in any shape or form had people complain to you about products or services? How many of you have received unjustified/maliciious/ignorant complaints - 100% I would guess. And what is the best way of dealing with these? Do you engage and argue with every minor point, do you want to “win” the argument. Does it make you feel better to win by beating the complainent over the head with your greater wisdom, teaching them a lesson, showing them for the stupid, ignorant people they are? What happens if you engage? It never bloody stops. But if you reply thanking them profusely for the incredible amount of time they have taken to give you feedback, if you thank them for their custom, if you offer them a discount/money back. If you ARE NICE TO THEM. Guess what? THEY HAVE NO WHERE TO GO! NOWHERE. Believe me, I’ve done both and I can tell you hands down which is the most satisfying and, ultimately the most productive in the long term.

The situation is the same here, if TRF engages in any shape or form it will be playing directly into the Narcs playbook and the Sussexes will push back, it will excite them, thrill them, give them power. It will be more fuel for their global whinging and victimhood. It will be more interminable articles in Hello and Page Six (Does anyone read these publications) Look at the few times TRF have pushed back and H has come in, all guns blazing with legal letters (and what happened to all that, we wonder). Have you noticed that since the word got out that TRF were not going to stand by silently, the BS stories about HMTQ having zoom calls with the mythical child, buying waffle makers have stopped?

They are much more careful now when they try to bring HMTQ into their lunacy.

“Love me, hate me, but NEVER ignore me” is the Narcs motto and it will be driving Harry’s wife mad that they have been completely iced and are not rising to their constant baiting. But some of the Megxiteers are. Effectively, the Megxiteers are doing the Sussexes work for them. That sure is some fuel for the narc.

It makes me laugh when the MSM and SM get their knickers in a twist about the latest fuckwittery coming out of Montecito (or whever they don’t live). They want the child to be christened in Windsor with HMTQ present. Don’t make me larff! That is never going to happen. This is absolute kite flying at it’s worst. It’s poking the bear and all these ridiculous Royal Reporters nod their heads and make seemingly wise podcasts about the prospect of this happening (and they can do it with - mostly - straight faces), as if it was actually a possibility when I’d like to think that they, like me, believe that H and his wife have been well and truly iced, they are personas non grata.

When the wife buggered off back to Canada after the Commonwealth service leaving her useless husband to tell more lies on his own, rather than with her at his side, I was convinced then that she will never set foot on these shores again and I stand by that view now as I did then.

So, the latest stick with which the megxiteers have chosen to beat TRF with is that the second child is now on the website as being in the line of succession. Yes, it is an absolute abomination, yes, it offends every fibre of my being, yes I want to expose these two evil hypocrites for this egregregious fraud that they are perpetrating on TRF and the rest of the British people. Of course, like most of you, I want to see justice done, and I want it done NOW. But life isn’t like that. and just as Caesar’s wife has to be above suspision so do our (much loved) RF. Look how we all noticed the careful wording of the Baby congrats on the birth of the second child, they know, we know, but TRF have to play a staight bat, they just have to.

While, in the SM bubble we can all get ourselves wound up, upset, angry, sure that the monarchy will fall etc etc outside, in the real world, most people don’t give a flying fuck about Harry. He’s an idiot, an ex-royal, gone, finished. He is not important either inside or outside TRF.

HE IS IRRELEVANT.

And, if anyone is wondering while all this stuff about book deals is coming out now. I give you this:

The Mail on Sunday appeal - will probably run into next year The Bullying accusations - will probably run into next year. Tom Bower’s book (this is a biggy) - to be published next year?

The Sussexes are aware they are losing popularity, that is why each pronouncement is more and more ludicrous and each Hello article more and more desperate.

The Sussexes are aware they are under attack by forces outside TRF, and they are making their pre-emptive strikes at the low hanging fruit, the soft underbelly of his family.

TRF are doing exactly the right thing. Keep Calm, Carry On and while ignoring them won’t make them go away, it will make them look increasingly ridiculous.

This is true strength, not to rise to the bait, to carry on regardless. Remember our Queen has a strong and deeply held Christian faith, turning the other cheek is part of that, whether we like it or not. TRF should not, under any circumstances sink to the level of Harry and his wife.

Let’s just enjoy the H show for what it is, a mentally unstable ensnared fool doing everything he can to ensure he continues to receive the favours (sexual and otherwise) of the narcissist he married. Because, imho, that is what it’s all about.

Remember the engagement interview. “I hope she loves me as much as I love her”.

Sorry mate, that ship has sailed and nothing, nothing you can do will bring it back.

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hankwritten · 3 years ago

Text

Litany

Gen, 2k

Part of the DontNeedADiscord Pride Week, Day 1: Flag

“And what is the meaning of these?”

It was a good idea not to make Miss Helen pissy. She was the Boss around here, and not in the way Miss Pauling was the boss, but like the Boss with a capital B. I wasn’t exactly sure if she owned the building, or maybe the company, or maybe she was just our lawyer so we shouldn’t tee her off because of that, but the way Dell had explained it making her mad was a good way to have your desk packed by the end of the day.

So, I’d have to be very delicate about this. “They’re pins, Miss Helen,” I explained extremely politely. “It’s the first day of Pride Month; I thought everyone could do with a little company spirit!”

“Spirit?” The T on the end of the word popped like a firecracker. Miss Helen could make nice words like spirit or rainbows sound like she was actually saying dog doody. “And how exactly do these pins make you…prideful?”

“They’re fun!”

When she didn’t react, I at first assumed it was because she couldn’t hear me so well through my respirator, but then I considered what I knew about her and wondered maybe she simply didn’t know what fun was.

“Look,” I said, placing one in the palm of her hand. “It has a flag on it! I was thinking as people are coming in during the day, they can pick them out and wear them if they want to, just to show off a little color. See? This one is the bigender flag.”

She held it up and examined it like a jeweler inspecting a diamond. “And you find this…fun?

“Yeah!”

She waited, as though expecting the fun to start radiating out of the pin like a hand warmer. “…You certainly have quite a few of these.”

It was true. Along with the usual lollipops and stickers I kept at the front desk (the former being exclusively for clients and never-ever for sneaking myself one, no siree), the scattering of buttons took up a good chunk of counter space, with as many varieties as I could find. I didn’t want anyone to feel left out, so I’d just kept on printing until I had over three dozen.

“Very well,” Miss Helen said finally. “If it is good for company spirit.”

I clapped my hands in delight, glad the party wasn’t going to get shut down before it even started. So palpable was my relief, I didn’t even notice that Miss Helen hadn’t given the button back.

I didn’t have time to worry about it though, since just then Dr. Ludwig came in through the glass doors. He was normally the first one after me, as he always liked to get an early start down in the lab, and we’d developed a morning routine as fellow early birds.

“Dr. Ludwig!” I said, waving my hand, partly to get his attention and partly to show off the new gloves Dell had gotten me. The rubber ones had been so hard to type in, but these were nice and concealing as well as colorful. “Happy Pride Month! Do you want a pin?”

“Guten Morgen,” he greeted warmly. “Ah, buttons?” He picked up the closest one. “Pride buttons, I see.”

“Here you go!” I said, shoving a bi pin in his general direction since he’d shown interest.

But, to my surprise, he didn’t take it immediately. “Ehrm…” he said, staring down at the circle of metal.

“…Is this not the right one?” I withdrew my hand. Was I misremembering? “I’m so sorry, I guess I forgot…”

“No, no I did say that, didn’t I.” He ran a hand through his hair, sending its usual prim style haywire. “It is just…” He coughed lightly into his fist. “…Would you allow me to confide with you for a moment?”

Immediately, I pulled out the spare footstool I kept behind the counter, patting it as Dr. Ludwig came through the counter doors and took a seat. Our early morning chats were normally something to look forward to, shared over a donut or coffee he’d brought into the office, but today he just seemed run down. As he tucked his heels onto the stool’s crossbar, he rubbed his face.

“You know I am not as…up on all of this as some of your generation, ja?” he began.

“Millennials scare you,” I nodded, pulling my legs into my swivel chair.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” he huffed. “It is…well when we had our first conversations, and it was explained to me, it seemed to fit. At the time. Having to reconcile beginning a relationship with Mikhail when I still was not quite over Frida, nor really sure why things had fallen apart with us there.”

I remembered. “At the time? But not anymore?”

He sighed, ruffling his hair even more. “Now…now I am not so sure. Being with Mikhail is…quite different than any of the thirty years Frida and I spent together. I am starting to wonder if it was more just that I held extreme affection for her, and I was inexperienced enough that I was able to mistake it for attraction.” He chuckled humorlessly. “I thought I was so in love with her, and that’s why I never even looked at another woman. Töricht.”

“I don’t think that’s dumb,” I shook my head. “Everybody’s learning new things all the time. You can’t be expected to have everything sorted right after coming out.”

“Yes, I suppose,” he said. “But I still feel…guilty I think. Several of our coworkers are proudly attracted to both men and women, and I am aware that treating such a label as a ‘phase’ is a crude stereotype they have to deal with. I’d rather not have anyone think I was making a mockery of them.”

“It’s not a stereotype if that’s what’s really happening.” I patted him on the shoulder. “No one’s going to see it like that. If you think that’s where your journey is taking you, then there’s no shame coming out a second time.”

Dr. Ludwig responded to my words with a hopeful, if not entirely convinced, look behind his spectacles.

“Here,” I said, handing him both a bi and a gay pin. “You don’t have to wear either of them, this is just for fun after all! But if you change your mind…”

He looked at the two pins in his hand, then smiled tiredly up at me. “…Thank you mein friend. You are always helpful to talk to.”

“I try to be!”

After a few more assurances, the Doctor did eventually leave for the lab. Right on his coattails, Dell and Marcel came through the front door.

“Hey there, firebug,” Dell greeted. “What are you gettin’ up to here?”

I gave the quick rundown, pulling my shirt to highlight my own pin since I’d forgotten to show it off to my first two customers. “Pick any one you like!”

“Bear in mind I am saying this as a queer person,” Marcel said, sniffing down at the massive mound of multicolored circles, “this is all quite tacky.”

“Aw, learn how to have some fun, Spook,” Dell said, elbowing him in the side. To show him up, he claimed a pansexual pin for himself, and shot me a wink.

Marcel did nothing but sniff; but, when he thought no one was looking, I saw him discreetly sneak one of the pins off the counter as he left.

After that, the morning’s influx picked up too much to greet every person individually, but during lunch people saw fit to swing by and check things out again.

“Hi buddy!” Miss Pauling greeted. “I heard you were giving out Pride pins and wanted to see if- why are there so many lesbian ones?”

“Well!” I said, ecstatic to launch into an information dump. “The oldest of these is actually the ‘lipstick lesbian’ flag which, in absence of a more generic one, was used without the kiss mark in the corner. The one with the orange stripes wasn’t created until 2018, to be more inclusive all different lesbian groups.”

“Okay, but why does this one have an axe on it?”

“That’s the labrys!” I took the purple and black pin from her hand, pointing as I described, “the double bearded axe was used by the Amazons in Greek myth, and reappropriated in 1999 for its symbolism in female empowerment.”

“Wow,” she blinked down at the five different designs. “That’s really cool, except for the fact I have no idea how to use an axe.”

“I bet Tavish could teach you, he loves his Skullcutter.”

“…I’ll think about it. I’ll just take this one for now.” She picked up the orange five-stripe variation and pinned it to her purple shirt.

“Looks good!”

“Thanks!” she grinned. “And it was really nice of you to do this.”

“Honestly, the pleasure’s all mine. I just like seeing everyone happy.”

And everyone was! At least it sure seemed that way, even if it was kind of hard to tell with Mikhail. After lunch, he lumbered past my desk, picked out a gay pin, and put it on without so much as a smile. I took the muted grunt to be that of satisfaction

Tavish was next, dropping off half a roast beef sandwich since I’d forgotten to eat today, and instantly becoming my favorite person. While I was chowing down, he swiped two trans and two bi pins from my collection.

“Wadda you need two of each for?” I asked, quite a feat with my mouth full of roast beef and my respirator hanging halfway around my chin.

“Haven’t you heard?” Tavish asked with a raise of his eyebrow. “They just dropped a new identity: double bi. It’s twice as potent as regular bisexuality.”

I tilted my head, blinking perplexedly from behind my lenses.

“Ah, just a joke duck,” he assured. “The spares are for the husband.”

“Oh, right.” I swallowed down my mouthful. “I actually haven’t seen Jane at all today?”

“Ach, he came in earlier than you. Left at five this morning.”

“What? How?” I shook my head. “I’m the one who unlocks the doors.”

“Said he was tired of waiting for your ‘lazy, unpatriotic behind’ to start the day at seven. His words, not mine.” Tavish smiled apologetically. “He broke into one of the lab side doors.”

“…I bet Mikhail had something to say about that.”

He sighed. “That he did. They’ve been at it for hours. If there’s another office-wide prank war tomorrow, you’ll know why.”

Oh no. That’s how we lost our last two coffee makers, and our last seven office hamsters. Tavish assured me that it wouldn’t get out of hand, but by the time Mick showed up near the end of the day, my mood was somewhat dampened.

“Everything alroight, Campfire?” he asked me. “Ya look glum.”

“Just thinking about the impending damage to all those nice posters I put up in the breakroom,” I said sadly. “But! If you’ve come here to pick out a pin, that might cheer me up a bit.”

Mick chuckled in that cute little way of his, and already I was smiling. “Might have.”

We were close enough that I was ninety-five percent certain which one he wanted, but I’d learned my lesson with Dr. Ludwig and didn’t try to pick it out for him. Still, I let myself entertain a self-satisfied grin as he picked up the aroace flag.

“Hey uh,” I said. “If that’s the one you like, and uh…since I know you’re into archery…”

Carefully, I opened one of my drawers and extracted the special pin I’d made earlier, Mick watching me curiously all the while.

“Someone on the internet made this design,” I explained. “It’s for an aroace, arrow-ace!”

The flag was blacked out in several places to make a bow and arrow shape, and Mick grinned as he took it from my glove. “Clever.”

“Do you like it?” I asked hesitantly.

“Well, let’s see.” He pinned it to his vest. “Looks pretty good ta me.”

I couldn’t keep my stomach from doing a little flip at that. When Dell showed up, the last to leave the office for the day, he could tell I was smiling even through the mask.

“Everything go well, partner?” he chuckled. “You look pleased as punch.”

“Everything went great! Even Scout came by, although all he did was say ‘hey, free crap!’ and dumped a bunch of pins into his pocket.”

“I’m glad to hear the attempt at company spirit was a success,” a voice from behind Dell said, making us both jump. Miss Helen emerged from the shadows, her purple jacket an entire mass of pride pins, nearly one of every kind. When had she gotten all those? Had she been paying Marcel to sneak them out while I wasn’t looking? “A happy work environment is a productive work environment, as I always say. Well done, secretary.”

“Can’t remember you ever saying that, ma’am,” Dell admitted blandly.

“…Why do you have so many?” I asked.

“These are…fun…are they not?” she sniffed. “I am having…fun.”

Huh. Maybe this is just what she looked like when she was having a good time. I shrugged. “Glad you enjoyed yourself Miss Helen! Does that mean it’s okay to do it again next year?”

“…You have my permission.”

With that, she strutted out, and Dell shot me a grin. I scooped the remaining pins into my bag and closed up the front office, chatting with him on the way to the parking lot about how we could mix things up next year.

#dnadprideweek2021 #tf2 fanfiction

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guqin-and-flute · 4 years ago

Text

Are You Here to Stop Me? (Part 3)

[Part one] [Part two] [First post in Peony to Lotus Verse]

[Ao3 Series]

(CW for Wen Qing being in a pretty dissociative state for much of this)

Wen Qing hadn’t felt anything when she had awoken on the back of a frothing horse in the middle of a torrential rainstorm, hurtling through the gloom of trees and fog with only the arm of Fourth Uncle around her waist keeping her grounded.

She had felt nothing when she remembered the flash of faces in the dark, pale and paler, blood and screaming and swords and lightning. When she remembered what her life had become. She had stayed numb when Jiang Wanyin had descended with his sister on flashing swords some time later, throwing themselves upon Wei Wuxian with relieved weeping and low conversations. Unfeeling, still, when they had asked her to meet with them.

Jiang Yanli had done most of the talking, explaining their plan. Their hopeful idea. “My husband thinks it will work,” Jiang Yanli assured her, hands anxiously squeezing and petting down Wei Wuxian’s rain-soaked sleeve where it was looped through her arm as firmly as any anchor, keeping him pressed to her side. Her brother. Safe again.

Wei Wuxian was staring between them all, eyes wide and shadowed in his weary face. “Jin-xiong thinks…could that happen?” His voice grew small as his gaze shifted to Jiang Wanyin, who had been sitting silently, staring at the weak fire they had managed to build after using talismans to dry the dripping wood they had gathered. “You would…do that? For me?“

At this, Jiang Wanyin scowled at him, his cheekbones flushing. "As if it’s for you! I’m trying to avoid a catastrophic war with the Jin after this stunt you pulled! Wei Wuxian, do you ever think before you do things?! Do you consider us at all before you decide to go play hero?!”

“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli chided with a worried frown, eyes darting to Wen Qing where she sat, dully staring at them, exhaustion numbed mind attempting to absorb any of this. It felt like time had stopped when she had found A-Ning lying in that place, surrounded by bodies, his own so horribly mutilated.

Like she had died then.

And all this was some sort of fevered play being acted out in front of her with no logic or hope. An absurd opera.

Wei Wuxian gave an exaggerated grimace and shook his head, rolling his eyes, though there was a grimness behind his play acting. “I was going to handle it on my own and not bother you…but Jin-xiong convinced me otherwise.”

“Thank goodness he did,” Jiang Yanli cut in with a murmur when Jiang Wanyin bristled, squeezing Wei Wuxian’s bicep so tightly, her fingertips were white from where they emerged from under her oiled rain-cloak. Then she reached out to Jiang Wanyin’s face, smoothing a palm down his cheek. “Please, A-Cheng, now isn’t the time for this.” She raised her pinched eyebrows and tilted her head toward Wen Qing, urging him.

Immediately, he flushed again in the firelight and furtively glanced over at her before fastening his gaze somewhere around her knees. “I…Wen-guniang. I-I know that it’s not ideal…is this–?”

“I’ll do it.” Strangely, the words felt like nothing coming out.

He blinked, eyes widening and mouth working as he searched for something to say. “I….”

“I expected you to look a little happier, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian teased wearily, earning himself a glare and the raised hand threatening a smack.

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Boys,” Jiang Yanli practically hissed and, instantly, they both looked properly abashed, turning back to Wen Qing where she sat, hollow and alone.

Jiang Wanyin ventured, “Are…are you certain? I know before….” His mouth twisted. “Before, you said you would not run from your clan…your name….”

Before. Before when they had been in the middle of war instead of the middle of an extermination. Before when she saw roads before them instead of desolate wasteland. Before, when A-Ning had only just left her side, and she had yet to wander for miles and months, desperately trying to find another living soul that shared her blood. Before all of this.

The comb tucked into her inner pocket seemed heavy with awareness, but any affection it may have held was deadened by whatever thick blanket of emotion was suffocating her now. It was only the next step. The only next step. The play must continue, even if she felt locked, woven imobile into a single moment in a bloody tapestry.

Her voice, when she spoke, was cracked and low from screaming. Sobbing. “For all the good it’s done me….All I want….” Her eyes wandered over them, this family clustered together across the sputtering fire, arms twined, watching her with hopeful and uncertain eyes. “All I want is a place where they can be safe. Where my brother can….” Her throat stuck and new, hot tears slid down her cold, aching face, already wet with rain. Odd, for she didn’t feel grief.

She still didn’t feel much of anything at all.

Wei Wuxian’s white face grew serious and he leaned over, gripping her knee tightly. “I can make him well again. I can bring him back,” he whispered fiercely. “I know I can. I swear it.”

“Then, I will do anything.” She let her red-rimmed gaze move up and bore into Jiang Wanyin’s. “Anything.”

His face blanched, white and sick, and he swallowed, looking down. Jiang Yanli disentangled herself from her brothers and moved around the fire to kneel, throwing her arms around her and pressing her into her chest, heedless of the dirt that was being ground into her fine lavender robes. “We can work this out together, Wen-guniang. You kept us safe in the worst time of our lives. We will return that favor as best we can.”

The tears hadn’t stopped flowing and feeling hadn’t come back and so Wen Qing limply let herself be rocked as her tears spilled onto the front of Jiang Yanli’s already damp clothes, listening to the wingbeat quickness of her heart.

The rest of the journey was a blur of hard riding, dreary weather, and fitful, exhausted sleep on rocky terrain, avoiding villages and populated paths. The horses began to struggle. A-Yuan would cry quietly and Grandma Wen could barely stay on her mount after so many hours and every moment, they all expected golden forms to shoot out of the sky and slaughter them all.

But they didn’t. The only close call was when Wei Wuxian pulled his horse up short at some signal from Jiang Wanyin on his sword up ahead and they had all hidden as best they could in a small copse of trees. No one else has seen anything but by that point, they were all so stiff from exhaustion and constant terror that keeping quiet was no problem at all, their mouths too full of their pounding hearts.

Eventually, they had continued.

Wen Ning stayed… dormant. Unconscious. Gone from her. They tied him up at night and Wei Wuxian would stay up working over him with tattered talismans and his flute and blood. Wen Qing should be beside him, helping and thinking, but the biting burn of the energy pouring off her baby brother, the pallor of his skin, the stillness of his form…it was the only thing in the entire world that hurt. And Wei Wuxian shooed them all away whenever they would draw near. So, like a coward, she let him. For now. Just for now.

She was so tired.

Jiang Yanli’s already wavering health failed her right before they reached the border of Yunmeng and a bit of that numb blankness within Wen Qing cracked. This was something she knew.

It was a fever and a cough that was becoming wetter by the day, paired with the weakness in her heart and constitution Wen Qing had become familiar with in their time together in Cloud Recesses and Yiling. She was without most of her herbs and equipment, but she foraged plants to alleviate the fever and aches, helped to dry her clothes over the fire so she wouldn’t catch more of a chill, and massaged her acupressure points. Jiang Yanli tried to smile and breathlessly thanked her. It wasn’t going to be enough. But it was something. Jiang Yanli insisted on continuing to ride her sword so as to not slow them all down, but everyone could see her flagging more and more as the hours went on and the miles bled away.

Jiang Yanli’s brothers fretted over her and fought more, now that she hadn’t the energy to intervene. It usually was sibling friction, but sometimes, it spilled over into actual anger, full of gritted teeth and barely veiled accusations. Once, Wen Qing found herself snapping, “Stop it,” when Jiang Wanyin yet again made some biting comment about Wei Wuxian only thinking of himself.

They both looked over their shoulders at her, faces frozen in identical expressions of children caught in the act of doing something they oughtn’t. “Sorry,” Wei Wuxian muttered, Jiang Wanyin following quickly with, “Sorry, Wen-guniang.”

A small ember of something caught in her throat, wanting to tear out, to tell Jiang Wanyin exactly how quickly Wei Wuxian had listened to her story, face darkening before stalking off to directly confront the Jin. How she had trusted him in her desperation and he had done just about the most unselfish thing she could have imagined.

But she held it back and it died in her mouth, puffing out in a whisp of exhaustion. She just didn’t have the energy to be angry. And Jiang Wanyin was also helping them. He could have refused, could have abandoned Wei Wuxian to his fate and them to theirs. Could have refused to consider marrying her. It was still a risk he was taking. And it wouldn’t at all be what a Clan Leader wanted in a coupling.

When they reached the border of Yungmeng in the middle of the 3rd day, a palpable relief sagged over the group. The journey wasn’t over, yet, and there was still the threat of covert attack–but they had made it this far. A retinue of roughly a dozen Jiang disciples waited with food–rich soup and steamed buns and glistening meat and fluffy rice and scalding tea that was the best thing that Wen Qing had ever tasted in her entire life. She wolfed it down with little consideration for manners. She carefully watched A-Yuan between bites so that he didn’t choke in his haste and kept the little handkerchief that served as his plate full.

After the rest of the group had finished devouring the meal, Wei Wuxian turned to her. “We need to take you and Wen Ning back first, on swords.”

Her fingers sank into the cloth that had bundled the food that now lay clutched in her stomach like a stone. “I….” She looked to her family, cold and dirty, damp and exhausted and scared. They looked back at her. “I can’t leave them.”

A feeble Jiang Yanli stirred from where she was curled up against Jiang Wanyin’s side under his cloak, her own pulled up around her against the chill. “Wen-guniang, our people will guide them the rest of the way safely. You have our word,” she rasped weakly, then coughed. It rattled in her chest.

Automatically, Wen Qing rose to crouch before her, placing the back of her hand to her forehead. The fever had returned and her skin was dry to the touch, her under eye’s dark and sunken. The damp in her lungs was worsening. Looking up, she found both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin staring at her desperately, faces pinched in concern. “We need to get shijie home. We need to get Wen Ning home. Where it’s safe and we can help them,” Wei Wuxian pleaded in a low voice, for once not trying to make light of any of it. “It will be alright. I trust them.”

“Please,” Jiang Wanyin added, even quieter.

For a moment, she just looked into his face–it’s sharp planes and gracefully winging features, eyes dark and worried. She would need to learn to trust that face if this was going to work at all. Not even just as a marriage, but as an escape plan. She had to trust that these people could at least try to mean safety in a world so empty of it. And still….

“Here,” Jiang Wanyin said and gently tilted his sister into the arms of Wei Wuxian–who immediately bundled her into his own travel cloak, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. He stood and thrust his chin out, squaring his shoulders as he sharply surveyed the disciples who all suddenly came to attention. “These people are under our protection. They are as important as your own blood, now. I don’t care how you might personally feel about the Wen Clan–I have as much right as any one of you to want them gone, but Wen-gu–” He fumbled his tongue a bit, flushed and went on, “Wen Qing is my…wife. And if any of her people come to harm, I’ll break your legs. Do you understand?”

As one, the disciples bowed and answered, “Yes, Jiang-zongzhu.”

Staring at him, Wen Qing wracked her weary mind for a way to explain why threats of violence against his own people and acknowledging that he might harbor not-so-secret resentments against the Wens were not as reassuring as he seemed to think they should be but came up empty. Instead, Fourth Uncle’s hand on her arm had her blinking up at him and he smiled, if a little weakly. “It’s alright. We’ve made it this far. Take A-Yuan with you and we’ll see you in a day or two.”

When Grandma Wen nodded and tucked a sleepy A-Yuan into her arms, she simply shut her mouth and turned back to the Jiangs. “They took my sword when I was imprisoned. I don’t have anything to fly with.”

Jiang Wanyin’s grip tightened on his sword but ducked his head. “I can take you on Sandu. I-If you’d like.”

Wen Qing hesitated, but found that it was a more palatable option than riding with some anonymous Jiang disciple who may or may not hate her. She inclined her head in a half-bow of acquiescence and thanks and the boys hurriedly set about arranging their departure. “Are we going home?” A-Yuan mumbled through a yawn, scrubbing at his eyes with a grimy fist.

Wen Qing gently captured his hand and rubbed it with her sleeve–though she had to face the fact that her clothes were not much cleaner. “I hope so, little one.”

They managed to find a slightly awkward tangle of arms where held A-Yuan close with both arms, clenching her fingers into Jiang Wanyin’s sleeve around her middle. A-Yuan’s grip coiled chokingly around her neck as the ground receded below them and they swooped up into the sky, the wind biting and howling at the speed they moved. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli rode with their own Jiang disciples each and 2 more bore A-Ning’s limp, talisman festooned form between them with grim determination. Her stomach dropped into the forest below at the thought of him being kept safe by merely 2 sets of hands so high above the earth, entrusted to the grudging care of strangers–but it wasn’t as if she could protest now. Or even do anything but watch. She held A-Yuan back just as tightly as he was squeezing her and stared straight ahead.

The journey seemed to take ages, though perhaps it was because it was so bitingly cold up so high, with the wind constantly tearing at the edges of their robes and hair; her face and hands were completely numb after a few minutes and she kept A-Yuan’s face shielded in her shoulder, his little hands tucked between them. At some point, Jiang Wanyin’s arms tightened around her waist and the sword wobbled enough that she took in a breath sharply and leaned back into him as A-Yuan squeaked. Looking back at him, she saw that his mouth was pressed thin in his pale face and his jaw was working. Automatically, her hand went to his wrist, fingers pressing his pulse, her own energy searching along his–and found it low and strained.

Despite the strength of his new core, after days of constant flying and poor rest, he was now carrying 2 people on his sword, as well as himself. Wen Qing pursed her lips against the illogical annoyance that bubbled up within her at his neglecting to tell her so and fastened her grip around his wrist, siphoning a steady flow of her own spiritual energy into him. He took in a breath, started to shy his wrist away, but she tightened her fingers and frowned up at him over her shoulder. She would say something, but the wind was high enough that they couldn’t hear anything over it. Instead, he shot her an uncertain look, mouth tightening before he turned his gaze to the horizon and let her be. The sword steadied beneath them.

By the time they started descending into the moderately warmer air above the edges of a vast lake, bordered by thick forests, Wen Qing felt about ready to fall off the sword herself, the weight of everything dragging at her bones. The meal they had just had was the first proper one in…she didn’t know how long. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt full, and as a doctor, she knew exactly how stressed and malnourished her body was. But rest could come later. First, there needed to be safety.

The sun broke from behind the clouds as they coasted out over the lake, throwing dazzling sparkles into their faces from its windswept surface, making A-Yuan first twist to see and then hide his face against the brightness of it. Before them, the whole of Lotus Pier bloomed like its namesake into a sprawling complex of warm wood and graceful sweeping edges as they flew ever down, landing at last in the front courtyard that bore the etching of a magnificent lotus on its floor where a group of purple and blue robed people anxiously waited.

One came forward as they shakily dismounted, and Wen Qing found herself blinking up at–and then recoiling in alarm from–the startlingly familiar face of Wen Ruohan’s pet informant.

Meng Yao.

It brought her back against Jiang Wanyin’s chest and he staggered a little but wrapped his hands around her upper arms, frowning down at her in confusion before he raised his chin in acknowledgment of the man’s bow.

“Jiang-zongzhu,” Meng Yao greeted. “They came, but they left fairly quickly after I explained our position. I don’t think they were very convinced, but I hadn’t really expected them to be.” When Jiang Wanyin gave a snort of derision in response, Meng Yao turned to Wen Qing and his serious expression softened into a polite smile as he bowed again. “Wen-guniang, xiao-Wen, I’m pleased you’re here. It’s good to see you again.”

Hugging A-Yuan closer with a protective hand on the back of his head, she searched the edges of that smile for a hint of a threat, the roundness of his eyes for a warning, but found none; his expression was placid–and knowing. He didn’t seem to be interested in hiding the where and how of their acquaintance. She didn’t know what to make of this–was he daring her to make a fuss? Suddenly, Jiang Wanyin broke through her thoughts, demanding, “What happened to your face?”

In response, Meng Yao’s eyes went cool and hooded, but his smile stayed put and he raised a hand to brush over the bruises that irregularly lined one side of his jaw, wrapping 4 reddening bars onto his cheek, darkening points of dug in fingertips at the top. “Nothing of consequence. It’s taken care of. Jin Zixun was not pleased, but couldn’t really argue against our story, right now.” Before anyone could respond, his expression fell open into one of genuine, startled horror as he stared over their shoulders and breathed, “A-Li,” before abandoning his position in front of them with haste.

He reached out to Jiang Yanli just as she collapsed off of the sword in her Jiang disciples’ worried grip. Automatically, Wen Qing and Jiang Wanyin began to go to her side as well before she reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him. “That was….”

His momentum jerked her forward, swung him around in front of her where he furrowed his brow in agitated confusion. “What? That’s Jin Guangyao, jie’s husband. Why? Do you know him? You seemed…shocked.”

She stared back at Meng Yao, who was actually this elusive husband, this Jin Guangyao who had orchestrated their entire rescue plan. Supporting Jiang Yanli in his arms as he spoke in low tones to her, anxiously smoothing her damp, windswept hair back from her pallid face, he looked almost nothing at all like the darkly intense man that had radiated a polite, contained viciousness like some sort of cursed dagger in the Scorching Sun Palace. He looked simply like a man, like any other, mild mannered and concerned for his wife.

But Wen Qing knew better. Had witnessed his careful words, his calculating eyes, and the danger that mind could produce. She was no longer sure, her stomach tight and churning. This whole thing felt as if it had suddenly expanded from a warm pond of potential refuge to a deep sinkhole with pockets and crevices to get caught and drowned. Dark depths where no one knew what hid. What was the true purpose of his help, of this plan? Was this a trap? Were A-Ning and A-Yuan safe? Would they all be used again?

What was he doing here?

“…You trust him?”

Jiang Wanyin frowned, gaze studying her face. “He’s been an invaluable addition to the Sect.” After a moment’s pause and she didn’t respond, he nodded slowly, brows deepening in puzzlement and consideration. “I…do. Why?”

She pressed her lips together, biting at the inside of her cheek with her teeth, weighing danger, weighing knowledge, weighing trust in Jiang Wanyin, in them. If she was to live here….

There were so many complicated ways for that sentence to end. Instead, she settled on murmuring, “So did Wen-zongzhu.”

For some reason, this cleared his expression and he shook his head, flipping out a dismissive hand as if tossing aside this fact. “Oh. No, he was a double agent–he’s the one that killed Wen Ruohan.”

Wei Wuxian’s Jiang disciple landed beside them and he stumbled off his sword on stiff legs, wincing as she blinked at this. ‘Oh’ indeed. This was news to her. In her increasingly frantic searching for A-Ning and the rest, she of course had heard snippets of what had happened at the end of their Sunshot Campaign–that Wen Ruohan had died, slain in a battle by a son of the Jin. She had assumed it had been Jin Zixuan. It seemed it was a bit more complicated than all that. The threat of even more immediate attack and danger was draining away, hesitantly. There was time to discuss this later, when she didn’t have people in need of her care.

When the odd, sagging shape of A-Ning’s transport descended at last, fluttering talismans and robe hems, his dipping body sliding to the ground, Wen Qing hurriedly put down A-Yuan and joined Wei Wuxian immediately at his side as Jiang Wanyin went to his sister, checking the talismans, his slow pulse; found everything stable. She caught the whispers of the Lotus Pier servants, the disciples that had been there to greet their people, lingering on the outskirts of the courtyard. They were staring at him. At them.

Her fingers tightened and she carefully brushed his loose, sky-tangled hair back from his cold black veined forehead, throat suddenly tight. Her numbness was coming unstuck and she didn’t want that–not now, not here, in front of everyone.

This was the decision she had made. She must live with the consequences. She must not regret it.

“Wen-guniang, I’m going to take him to keep working, alright?” Wei Wuxian laid a hand on her shoulder and she flinched. “I’ll bring you to him once you’re settled in. Shijie…Please, I think you’ll be able to help shijie a lot more than him, right now.” He peered over at Jiang Yanli anxiously, looking as harrowed as Wen Qing felt, though he turned back to shoot her an attempt at a winning smile. “This is all crafty tricks, my area. Don’t you worry about us–we’ll have guy time while we wait. ”

In the forest, it had been hard to be near A-Ning. Here, she felt like she didn’t want to let go, hands curled in his dark robe front, his too-slow heartbeat echoing off the backs of her knuckles. Why did it hurt less to hold him among allies and safety than in the middle of the dark and soaked woods?

Why did it feel more dangerous for him here?

Hands shaking, regretting the meal she had eaten as it writhed in her stomach, Wen Qing reluctantly peeled herself away and took A-Yuan’s hand. Watched Wei Wuxian bear his limp body away with the help of a Jiang disciple he summoned with a jerk of his chin. Let her eyes follow them down the hall as she followed the anxious group spiriting away Jiang Yanli–it felt like being ripped in half, right down the middle, watching what was left of her brother disappear around the corner. Her hand tightened on A-Yuan’s–the only other Wen left with her–and followed her patient.

#peony to lotus #my stuff #my fic #yaoli #HOORAY HI WEN QING!#You're having a hard time aren't you?#I'm sorry I know I promised JGY stabbing someone in this but the cut off made more sense here #It's gonna be in JC's chapter! :D

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cashtonwildflower · 5 years ago

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Pas de Trois: I

NOTE: Here is the first part to my Bi!Poly!Cashton Fic. This is an intro of sorts. The next part will be more eventful, and angsty. Maybe even some smut? Please let me know what you think!

She was agitated.

She imagined that once she got her Masters and her license in counseling, she would have her own place with maybe a roommate. No, she was 24 and after 6 years of schooling and freedom, she was back where it all started her childhood home with her slightly, well excessively overbearing parents. Every single time her phone made the tiniest sound her mom was asking who was texting her and if it was a boy or not.

She also imagined that at 24 she would have a somewhat stable relationship, not a bunch of random strangers on apps like Bumble and Hinge ghosting her (or vice versa) after the conversation had gone stale and no one cared enough to revive it. She just wanted someone consistent, and someone who actually cared for conversation and not just wanted her Snap to see private images she only shared out of sheer boredom, and admittedly filled the void she so longed to have filled.

But that is not exactly why she was agitated at this very moment in time. No, she was agitated because she had an extremely strenuous day at work. She loved her job, but listening to other people’s problems and trying to think of ways to solve them simultaneously was exhausting. All she wanted to do was go home, take off her pants that began to fill entirely too restricting on her thicker thighs, and take a nice warm bath. A glass of wine and some Leon Bridges in the background also sounded like a well-deserved plan to her.

But as always her plans didn’t always, well never seemed to totally work out in her favor. As soon as he crossed the threshold of her home, she was greeted by the sound of her mother’s laugh, which she knew to be fake because no one’s laugh was that shrill, and an unfamiliar man’s laugh. This laugh was deep, warm, and a hint of sultriness to it. It took her no less than 10 seconds to know that she loved the sound of this laugh.

Her thoughts were cut short when felt her dad place his arms around her shoulders and whisper, “Mom, is entertaining the new neighbors. They’re a newlywed couple from Australia.” Her dad said with an eye roll and a tilt of head towards the kitchen. She would be a liar if she said she didn’t feel a little deflated to know that the owner of one of the most beautiful laughs she has ever heard was married.

She felt a twinge of jealousy.

She Imagined the couple to be this perfect, fit, successful couple in their early 30’s. She imagined Mr. Beautiful Laugh to be tall, a little muscular, but also a little soft, with sunkissed Australian skin. She imagined the wife to be the exact opposite of her. Tall, blonde, tan, with a great sense of style, and a knack for making her husband laugh.

She shook her head quickly to dismiss those unwelcome and quite honestly, toxic thoughts out of her mind. Why was she so jealous of a woman she never met? All because of a laugh? Or because she wanted to make someone laugh. She wanted a relationship. She wanted a partner. She wanted someone to share her intellect, and random world views and thoughts with. Yes, that’s it!

Just as she was finishing her war with her mind she heard her mother’s voice call her name from the kitchen.

She took a deep breath, cleared her thoughts, and closed her eyes. As she walked into the kitchen she was extremely shocked to see two gorgeous men sitting in the barstools parked at the kitchen island.

As soon as her eyes land on them she feels ashamed for assuming that her new neighbors were a stereotypical, suburban straight couple. This is 2020 for fuck’s sake.

“Hello, lovely to meet you,” the longer, dark-haired man says extending his hand to offer a handshake.

She smiles and returns his friendly gesture. His large, masculine hand envelopes her small feminine one. “I’m Ashton and this is my husband Calum,” He nods his head to where Calum is standing.

She tears her eyes away from Ashton to glance at Calum. He has buzzed hair, but he is smiling warmly at her. He walks over and takes the hand that his husband just let go of and mutters a friendly greeting.

Despite the fact that their greeting felt like ages, it was barely 30 seconds, and her mother is already announcing that dinner is ready.

As they eat dinner she learns that they just moved to her hometown from Sydney. They have been married for about a year before Ashton got his job at one of the local universities as a Chair of the Photography department. She discovered that Ashton and Calum met in college when they were both 18, but didn’t start dating until they were 21. Then 9 years later they got married and moved across the globe to continue their journey together.

As they are talking, she can’t help but analyze them. Individually and as a couple. She can tell that they love one another, but she also senses that there is some tension. The way Calum sort of shrugs off Ashton’s subtle embraces. The way that Ashton stares her down every time Calum is speaking to her. She also noticed how they both would roll their eyes when the other would crack a joke.

She picks up on them quickly. Reading people as well as she does is good, hell even great when it’s in a professional setting, but detrimental when it’s in her new neighbors that she just met.

Ashton and Calum stay until the third bottle of wine are finished and both of her parents retired for the evening. She did find it strange that they stayed to drink on the patio with her, when the host of the evening, her mother decided to call it a night. But she wasn’t complaining. She liked them. She was comfortable with them.

Maybe it was the wine, or that they seemed pretty genuine but she thought it pretty laughable that the therapist was becoming the patient as she vented about her life and lack of romance to two men she just met 4 hours ago.

“It’s just, my best friend is having a baby, and I can’t even remember the last time I was fucked good enough to actually cum.” The words were already out of her mouth when she realized what she had said.

Her mouth was always faster than her brain when she was tipsy, but this was the worst. Right before she was about to apologize, Ashton must’ve known what was going to come out of her mouth when he assured her everything was okay, and then he and his husband both laughed and thought it was pretty funny. Calum also noted how liked her honesty.

The three continued to chat when Calum asked her about her job. This question then turned into both, Ashton and Calum quizzing her on what she liked and disliked about counseling, what her thesis was, did she prefer treating adults, adolescents or children. Then Calum asked her if she ever treated couples.

It took her a little off guard, but she played it cool and answered yes.

Then Ashton asked the next question. A question that stunned both her and Calum:

“Would you ever consider counseling Calum and me?”

#5sos #5sos smut #5sos writing #5sos one shot #5sos preferences #calum hood smut #calum hood one shot #calum hood wrting #cashton #cashton smut #cashton one shot #ashton irwin #ashton fic #ashton irwin smut #ashton iriwn one shot #poly!sos

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dramaqueeenamby · 4 years ago

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Waves: Wild Hearts

A/N: This is sorta a follow up to Fighter that I’ve had on my computer for months. I have included the ending of that oneshot at the beginning of this one to help refresh memories, but if you want to read Fighter, you can do so here. Yes, there will be a part 2 to this one.

Warnings: Angst

Words: 2K

-GIF from Google-

TAGS: @babe-im-bi @notacamelthatsmywife @queenoftheworldisdead @tashawar @valkryienymph @letsshamelessqueen-m @lettytheletdown @hello-therree @toni9 @kpizzletrash @missdforever @missyperle @mani-lifes @koko-michelle @liquorlaughslove

-----

Previously on Waves

“Now back to the news that broke headlines just last night. Academy Award-Winning Actress Summer Hemsworth was allegedly attacked in her Georgia hotel room last night. Hemsworth suffered two gunshot wounds and reportedly collapsed in the lobby as horrified onlookers called 911 and attempted to stop the bleeding.”

“She was rushed to the local hospital where doctors performed emergency surgery, and as of now, we are hearing reports that she is in stable condition.”

“While details are still unclear, what we do know is that the attacker is now deceased, reportedly at the hands of Summer, who fought him off. In addition, the perpetrator has been identified as Myles Hampton, the same man who stalked and attacked Mrs. Hemsworth almost six years prior.”

“Hampton was sentenced and serving a 15-year sentence which has the world wondering. How did he get out? How was he able to re-traumatize his victim? How--”

“Mommy.”

His son’s voice ripped Christopher from his phone where he was watching the news for reasons even he couldn’t explain. Well, rather, didn’t want to explain.

Elysha glared at her brother, bringing her index finger to her mouth. “Shh. Papa said we gotta be quiet.”

Summer moaned, finally waking up from another nap. They had her on heavy painkillers that made her sleep, much to the chagrin of all four individuals occupying the private hospital room. For the twins, sleep meant she couldn’t talk to them. They needed to hear her voice to know that she was going to be okay.

For Christopher, well, even awake, he still worried.

And for Summer, she just hated to be unconscious as she recognized the concern that it caused her family.

“Did he now?” She whispered, blinking a couple times as she managed to lift her hand, bringing it to Emmett’s cheek. “Well, mama says you don’t have to.”

Both kids responded with a smile, quickly grabbing the sheets on either side of the bed, where they’d remained the entire time.

They wouldn’t leave her side.

“Look, mama,” Elysha chimed as they lifted the papers. “We drew you pictures. Mines is bestest.”

“Nu uh!”

“Uh huh!”

She smiled, ignoring the pain she was still experiencing. It mattered not though. She’d take the pain of survival over the finality of death any day.

“They’re both the bestest,” Summer shared, making both of them grin for a few seconds when she noticed Elysha drop her head. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Elysha took a few seconds, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’re glad you’re okay, mommy.”

“Yeah,” Emmett agreed. “Why’d that mean man try to hurt you, mama?”

Summer closed her eyes. Her pain was no longer a concern. Her priority was the hurt she saw and heard in her children, her beautiful babies prematurely forced to encounter the evils of this world.

“I-”

“Well, it’s about time you woke up, lil’ missy.” Helen spoke with a warm smile as she walked into the room.

Seeing their grandmother raised their spirits just enough to eat away some of Summer’s guilt. Helen walked over and gently felt her daughter’s head. “How you doing, baby?”

Summer, conscious of the watchful set of blue eyes on her, smartly replied. “I’m good, mama.”

Helen nodded. “I see you’re getting some of your color back. Good. You was getting a lil’ pale on me, lil girl.”

Elysha gasped. “Can I have some of mommy’s color, grandma!”

“Me too, grandma!”

The twin’s excitement and naivety made Summer smile. Their uplifted spirits nursed her soul.

“I don’t know about color, but how about you two come with grandma to the cafeteria, and we’ll see what kind of ice cream they have.”

The promise of their favorite dessert quickly dimmed when they realize it meant leaving their mom.

“But-”

“Ya’ll go. Mama has to talk to papa,” Summer referenced Christopher who’d sat silent while allowing the children time to bond with their mother. “Please?”

Emmett groaned but relented. “I’ll bring you ice cream back, mama.” He looked back at Christopher. “You too, papa!”

“I’ll bring you some too, papa!”

Careful kisses on either side of her cheeks preceded the kids finally walking out hand in hand with Helen.

The sound of tiny footsteps repeatedly diminished until they could be heard no more, replaced by heavy-footed strides and the creaking of a chair. Summer closed her eyes at his warm touch, his hand clasped over hers, the other going to her forehead.

He laid his head against her shoulder, Summer angling her own so that she could kiss the top of his head.

She gently tightened her grip on his head. “I’m fine, Christopher.”

“Don’t.” She licked her lips, concern shifting from her kids to her husband. “Don’t give me that shit, Summer. You are not fine.”

“I’m alive, Chris,” she croaked, wanting desperately to stress how grateful she was. “He shot me. Twice. And I’m alive.”

“This never should have fucking happened. If they’d been watching him, he would have never-”

“Hey,” she forced some bass into her voice. “We can’t do that. It happened, and it-it sucks, but-”

“How can you be so calm about this?” He forced out bitterly, finally lifting his head to reveal glazed eyes that burned with fear and rage. “After everything he did, what he tried-”

She attempted the comedic route, something that typically worked for them. “Well, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve almost died.” The dark joke fell through, possibly increasing his irritation. She swallowed. “I-I think-I still don’t know what to think, Chris. I-It’s a lot to process, but I can’t do that right now. Emmett and Elysha are watching us, watching me, and every time I look at them, look at you, I’m reminded of everything I stood to lose, and I’m just-I’m thankful. And the last thing that I want is to further worry the twins…or you.”

He lifted their conjoined hands and gently kissed her fingertips. Summer recognized the gesture as acknowledgment.

“I love you,” she breathed as he moved his mouth to kiss her inner forearm. “So much.”

He brought his hand to her cheek, their eyes meeting with a burning and moving meeting that conferred the ardent love between them but was now tinged with a new emotion.

Fear

Wild Hearts

“Just a few more seconds. Come on, Summer.”

Face scrunched up in discomfort, the actress swallowed her pain and scraped for every bit of resilience that she had left, successfully completing the set before relaxing as soon as her therapist gave her the okay.

Dropping onto the floor, Summer crossed her wrists and placed them over her head. Deep, relaxing breaths abated her nerves and aching muscles as Rene attempted to offer words of encouragement and praise that Summer was only halfheartedly listening to.

It wasn’t that Rene was bad at her job. No, far from it. She was a wonderful physical therapist who pushed Summer in ways that were both challenging while also welcoming. It was that Summer still hadn’t come to accept that she was back at square one. She felt like she was preparing to become Storm all over again. Relearning suddenly replaced years of maintenance. Her schedule had been disrupted, and it created cognitive dissonance.

Hand unconsciously falling onto her core, her fingers slid over the dark scar that still bled with remnants of trauma and regrets. One of two, it was the most prominent and noticeable. Folks rarely paid attention to feet, but the stomach, it was the area that generally garnered a decent amount attention based solely on the level of flatness.

Rene noticed the way Summer’s fingers stroked her slick skin and cleared her throat. “Why don’t we call it a day?”

“The day has been called, ma’am.”

The ginger grinned crookedly and complimented her client. “You did great today.”

Summer snorted, groaning quietly as she sat up and braced her palms against the mat. “Now you’re just kissing my ass.”

“While you do have quite the ass,” Summer rolled her eyes. “I’m not quite sure how my wife and your husband would feel about that.”

Summer rolled her eyes as Rene reached a hand to help her stand up. “Noted.” Rolling her shoulders, Summer walked over to grab her pink Blender Bottle, downing down the water mixed with lemons and limes. The typically acrid mixture was welcoming because of the addition of ice cubes that quenched her parched throat, assisting in the cooling down of her warm body.

“I think we could even maybe move down to twice a week instead of three.”

Swallowing a couple more ounces, Summer lowered her cup and wiped at her mouth. “Seriously?”

Rene nodded as she crossed her arms. “I meant it. You’re doing great.” A beat. “Physically.”

And just like that, Summer rolled her eyes and turned her body to start packing up her items. “Here we go again.”

Rene already knew that she was going to be met with apprehension, but that didn’t dissuade her. “I can only help you rehabilitate your body, Summer. But your mind—”

“—is fine.”

Rene stilled, her green eyes softening. “You can say that until you’re blue in the face, but it makes no difference if you don’t really believe it, and I don’t think you do.”

Summer stilled, her back toward the tall woman. A part of her, a very small part of her, wanted to switch things up. She wanted to entertain the conversation, just to see how it would play out, but another part of her knew exactly how it would play out, so she did as she’d done a lot lately.

“So, same time next week?” She spun around, swinging her bag over her shoulder. Before the other woman could offer a response, Summer shot her a wink and walked past her. “Thank, Rene.”

As if on cue, Phillip’s large frame appeared in the doorway, and Summer’s grin fell.

Arms clasped in front of him, he nodded in acknowledgment. “Ready, Mrs. Hemsworth?”

An elongated sigh escaped as she approached him and managed to reignite her previous smile. “I told you, Summer is fine, but yeah, I’m ready.”

A grunted response that she couldn’t really make out proceeded him opening the door for her only to quickly move back in front of her so that he was blocking her view. For a man his size, he was impressively quick on his feet.

A few more doors, elevator ride down, and Summer was met with the blistering Australian heat as a firm hand moved to her backside and escorted her out the building. Out the corner of her eye, she spotted the photographers who snapped away, a few inching close to the star but not enough where they were in arms reach of Phillip.

They weren’t stupid.

Phillip had served as a bodyguard for some of the most important figures across the world, celebrities and royals included. His resume was impeccable, and he was damn good at his job, a job that, while she respected, Summer felt suffocated by at times.

The fact that she even had a full-time bodyguard was something that she still hadn’t swallowed. She’d always been vocal and open about the fact that she loathed the whole “barrier” between celebrities and “regular degular” people. Her occupation, in her option, shouldn’t place her on a pedestal.

Plus, she was far from hopeless, and so a bodyguard was something could never get with unless they were provided by the event she was attending.

But a certain husband of hers was absolutely adamant about hiring the 24/7 protection following the attack, and while Summer understood his reasoning, she still wasn’t in agreement.

Not that it mattered…

The drive was short as the outpatient treatment center was only about twenty minutes away from the Hemsworth residence. Once they reached the mansion, Summer relieved Phillip from his duties. She had no plans on going out again. Christopher was picking up the kids from school. She’d maybe take Doggy out for a walk on the beachfront, but that didn’t require the 6”3 giant’s presence.

Not even three seconds into the door, Christopher was in front of his wife, hands on her hips as he pecked her lips.

“Hey, honey.”

Summer faltered only for a second before chewing on her bottom lip. “Damn, waiting for someone?”

“Always.” He winked and smacked her ass, prompting her to try to push him away.

“I need to shower,” she protested with a small pout as he brushed her comment off and slyly lowered his mouth down to her ear.

“I’ll join you.”

Summer grinned, momentarily contemplating his offer. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”

“We are married, aren’t we?”

“I mean….” She laughed at his scowl and managed to pull away, walking past him to make her way up the steps. “Can you make us—”

Summer stopped and turned around on the second step only to see that was directly in front of her, on the first step.

She lifted a brow. “Sir?”

“What?”

She crossed her arms. “I’m pretty sure that I said n—Christopher!” She squealed as he silenced her by picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder. “Put me down!”

“I am going to put you down,” he responded while continuing their track up the stairs. “On my dick.”

“Christopher!”

————

Summer rolled over on her side and ran her hand over her face, eyes shut as she struggled to catch her breath. Holding onto the pillow, she pulled the blanket up to her neck, depriving her nude body of the chilly air that the AC caused to consume their room.

She smiled softly as her husband kissed her temple. Feeling the bed creak, he peaked and saw him moving out the way as he started to pull on his clothes. Leaning on her back, she grabbed her phone off the nightstand and saw that it was time for him to leave to pick up the twins.

How long were we?

“Phillip will be here in a few minutes—”

Summer frowned. “What?” She sat up, not caring that the sheet fell down, exposing her breast. “Baby, I told him he could go home for the day.”

Christopher stood up, pulling his pants on. “Why would you do that?”

She looked from side to side. “Because I don’t need him? I didn’t plan on going out today.”

“But you knew that I had to go pick up the kids, so you’d be alone.”

Summer closed her eyes. “Christopher….”

The chime of his phone interrupted her as he glanced at the screen to see that Phillip had arrived and entered the house using the key that Chris thought was a good idea to provide him with. “He’s here. I have to get going.”

Summer frowned and leaned back against the headboard. “Okay.”

Looking back over to see that she was still dissatisfied, he walked over and sat on the bed, reaching out to cup her cheek. “Why don’t you come with me?”

Her brows furrowed. “Seriously? Christopher, you’ve already called the man over here.”

“And?” Chris didn’t see a problem. “He’s staying the night—”

“Again?” Summer was no longer so disappointed. She was irritated. “That’s the third damn time this week.”

“Okay?”

Summer scoffed and moved away from him, crossing her arms. “You know, I would appreciate it if you would actually, maybe, communicate with me before you make these decisions.”

“What is there to talk about, Summer?” He watched her move to the other side of the bed as she kicked the blanket off and scurried around to gather her clothes. “You need pro—”

“No, Christopher, what I need is for you to stop treating me like a child!” A beat. “I can take care of myself!”

“Like you did with Myles?”

Summer clutched the shirt in her hand at the same moment Chris closed his eyes. “Fuck, Summer—“

“You can go to hell,” she whispered, yanking her shirt over her head and marching past him, snatching her arm away from him when he reached for her. “Don’t—“ she stopped, eyes closing as she fought the sob in the back of her throat. “—touch me.”

Christopher recognized that tone. It was rare, but when present, he recognized that nothing he could say or do could penetrate the impenetrable exterior that was Summer’s wall.

The slamming of the bathroom door indicated what he already knew. Walking over to the door and placing his ear against it, welcoming it to the quiet sobs of his wife confirmed it.

He’d fucked up.

-----

A/N: So....whose side ya’ll on?

#chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth x black!reader #fic: waves

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