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thefanficmonster · 6 months

Text

Phases

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Implied Sexual Activity, Paranormal Investigations, Referenced Drinking, Swearing

Genre: Angst with a happy ending, Friends to Lovers, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: They're running through the motions, going through phases. Somehow, they always miss each other. Yet they always come back to each other

NOTE: No hate or disrespect is meant to any of the people mentioned in the story. If you find something wrong in the way I have depicted them please let me know. Just keep in mind that has in no way been my intention.

First it was Shea and Brennen.

Well, first it was Shea and Brennen came along afterwards. Or he was in the wings, so to speak.

Y/N was doing cartwheels to set the two up. She didn't expect she'd land on her head in the end. She didn't realize it until she saw them being openly affectionate with one another.

Realize that she may be a terrible friend despite her attempts.

Sure, she bent over backwards to play matchmaker between Colby and Shea, as a good friend would. But the epiphany that she may not be as happy with the product of her labor as thought she would be hit her like a train, carrying bags upon bags of self-accusations.

Because of course that burning in her gut wasn't jealousy. They're just friends, duh. The two are incredibly happy and head over heels for one another and she, as a good friend, should be happy. Proud even. Glad her efforts paid off.

Yet, she's anything but.

"Get a room already." She'd heard a playful scoff from right next to her, grabbing her attention. She'd been sitting on the ledge of the pool, damp hair curtaining her full view of the love birds across from her.

She looked over to the now occupied spot next to her. There, like a beacon of hope and comfort, sat Brennen. Her best friend. Someone she could always turn to for anything and everything. Someone who'd always catch her in open arms no matter what.

The burning in her gut turned to sickness when the idea lit up her gloomy mind. Not only the idea itself. But how quickly it got conjured up, how quickly a part of her accepted and justified it. Despite how wrong it was. Despite how low it would require her to stoop.

And stoop she did when she let the constant and trademark flirting between her and Brennen turn into something not so unserious.

That's when we're gonna switch the perspective to the other ledge, the one across from theirs. Across the pool. Where Colby and Shea were seated.

It was a hard feat - sulking in his a pit of self-pity while in her company. Shea has always been a ray of sunshine in his life. Platonically, though. He doesn't remember who came up with the concept of their relationship potentially developing into something more nor what prompted such an idea. He just knows Y/N took it and ran with it, strongly believing her best friend was madly in love with this girl and just didn't have the balls to tell her.

She did the most. Coaching him, advising him, lecturing him, hoping to finally push him into confessing feelings she had no clue were nonexistent.

Colby had tried to tell her numerous times but with no success of convincing her. She was adamant that she wanted to come through for him, saying she wanted him to do what she'd been too afraid to do on too many occasions. Which, via an overall observation, could be seen as sweet. If you were to undermine the fact that the feelings she wasn't able to express were meant for him. And that the feelings he was truly feeling were toward her. With that in mind, it's a very overdone rom-com plot.

Her reservations regarding his relationship with Shea were replicated and planted right into his chest when he first saw Brennen with his arm around Y/N's shoulders, the gesture lacking the slight platonic distance this time around.

But he knew he had no right. He viewed it as the universe showing him in a plain and cruel way that he's a coward and practically watched his train depart without making an effort of getting on it. He was aware he was grasping at straws with both his relationship and hers. There was nothing to complain about between him and Shea. She was and always will be such a lovely person. The only gripe was the fact that he went into that relationship out of defeat - seeing Y/N so eager and excited to set him up with someone else just cemented what he already feared: she felt for him none of what he felt for her. And so, continuing along his cowardly ways, he gave in. Which was so far from what Shea deserved.

Just like Brennen didn't deserve to be a second best.

He treated Y/N as nothing less than royalty. He was an incredible friend to her for as long as they've known each other and an even better boyfriend once they agreed to put a serious label on their relationship. To him, she meant the world. To her, this whole thing was just a ton of guilt she couldn't stomach. How he'd ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time to get caught up in her bullshit she'll never know. She wishes the universe was kinder to him and didn't throw him in the jaws of her self-loathing but alas maybe he was the saving grace she needed all along to get over Colby.

Yeah, well that was wishful fucking thinking.

To nobody's surprise, neither relationship stayed afloat for long.

Unlike Shea and Colby however, nothing really changed between Brennen and Y/N. The two's nearly decade long friendship withstood the year of their relationship without batting an eye. The break up wasn't so much a permanent full stop to anything potentially romantic between them. More so a delay, a postponing. Y/N couldn't deny the feelings that bloomed for him but she couldn't pretend they stemmed from upmost honesty either. She was aware her best friend deserved that honesty so until she could cleanse her system of a particular someone, she decided she would stop dragging him down with her.

But it would be so unlike Brennen to not stick around by her side regardless.

Colby and Shea distanced themselves quite a bit though. And the guilt was eating away at him. He'd pushed her away with his hollowness and numbness but didn't have the backbone to actually put an end to it. He was - for a lack of a better term - quite relieved when she took that weight off his shoulders and did it herself.

"I can't have a long distance relationship with someone sitting right next to me, Colby. I can't stand the way you look at me with that thousand yard stare. Like you're fucking miles away." Every word was spot-on for how their relationship had been transpiring as of recent.

And every word was further confirmed by how Colby could do nothing but blink and nod somewhat absentmindedly while Shea bared her soul.

He knew she deserved better from the start. In that moment he was made cruelly aware that he was so far away from what she deserved, he was practically a punishment.

But did either Colby or Y/N learn their lesson after that?

Of course they fucking didn't.

Because then comes the sequel: Amber and Nate.

It's lightyears away from Y/N's proudest moment everything that happened that summer when Nate moved to LA. And same goes for Colby and his whoring around at parties and afterparties alike. His reckless behavior - all witnessed by Y/N in real time, by the way - was actually the main catalyst that sent this second chapter of idiocy in motion.

That's not to say that Nate didn't have plenty of cards playing in his favor. He's attractive, charming, kind, responsible. He was in many ways the embodiment of all the attributes Colby had lost in Y/N's eyes. He was a walking green flag and she knew just little enough about him to pursue something. Anything to get her mind off the unchained party animal Colby had turned into.

It's not like Colby was unaware of his antics. The worst part that he was never drunk enough to justify his bullshit. His liver could only handle so much so he was always at least half sober. Yet he was still wilding out to the point that Sam felt obligated to keep him in check, turning their dynamic upside down.

Most nights Sam wouldn't have even a sip of alcohol to prevent letting his guard down. He didn't trust his best friend to be able to look out for himself in the slightest. Given that he was sober practically 90% of the time, he was the first to pick up on the building sexual tension between Nate and Y/N.

"They're cute and all, but they should just fuck already." He'd laughed as he accompanied Colby to the bar so he could force him to down a glass of water.

Water he almost choked on and spit out when the words Sam said processed in his brain. Following his gaze, he found a sight that nearly cleaned his stomach of all the alcohol he'd consumed that night. Nate and Y/N were omitting all subtlety as they danced together across the club. There was no room to question their intentions for one another.

It would be rather hypocritical of Colby to clutch his pearls and be a prude over a simple one night stand between his friends. He was actually hoping it'd remain as that - a one-time thing.

He was let down quite rudely when the two announced they were officially dating about a week later.

And, as the pattern goes: enter Amber.

Ok, that's just some dramatic flare, she'd been there all along.

She had been there for Colby the way Brennen was for Y/N during the previous phase. She too found herself at the wrong place at the wrong time and faced the same fate of being a second best.

It would be three long years before both relationships would come to an end. These two a lot less calm in their conclusion.

For Y/N and Nate it was three years well spent, but also down the drain. It was an unfortunate case of two people traveling in opposite directions. Nate could see them together for years to come. But Y/N couldn't do that. Not to him and not to herself. The immense pain and heartbreak this break up brought on cemented some distance between them although they were both adamant they didn't want to lose one another. And so it's remained, they're still close friends with lingering feelings sticking around.

On the other side of the spectrum were Colby and Amber. Their relationship did not end so quietly and calmly. In fact it blew up, going up into the flames of their endless petty fights. In that fire burned up their friendship also. They lost all that connected them. They lost everything. The break up was the far lesser evil than staying together.

You'd think each with a three year relationship under their belt, their feelings for each other would have faded by this point. For a while that's what they wanted to believe.

"It is what it is." Colby said, handing her a beer as he took a seat next to her on the pool ledge.

She accepted it with a small, sad smile, "It is what it is." She agreed, swishing around the clear pool water with her feet as she rested her head on his shoulder.

It always came back to this. Three years ago after phase one, they found themselves there and now history was repeating itself. At the end of each chapter, they'd always find their way to one another, seeking comfort in each other's company. They are best friends, after all, but they also seemed to be running through the same motions at the same time. They lived on two sides of the same coin regarding romance, unaware they were practically prompting on another.

And Sam saw it all. That night too, when he came downstairs for a late night snack and peered out in the backyard. There he saw his two best friends, enjoying a quiet moment of mutual understanding. It got a little too perfectly coincidental for him to even believe it was a coincidence anymore. The patterns were too perfect, too alike. The timelines were adding up too well.

But he said nothing. He knew better than to try. He's never met more stubborn people in his life. He was just left to hope that eventually they'd find their way to each other permanently. Not for comfort or understanding, but for forever and always.

Phase three would soon commence, again following a pattern. Summer. Parties. Drinking. This time Y/N was just as engaged in the insanity of LA parties as Colby. In fact, he was the one slowly pulling out of that lifestyle. He needed to keep a level head to prevent his best friends - yes, Sam was back to his wild ways also - from making bad decisions.

Yet he just stood and watched, almost frozen, as Y/N was making another big mistake to kick-start the third installment of their trilogy.

That mistake being Seth.

This time is different, however. There's nothing romantic going on there. Anyone with two eyes and a brain could see that. It was purely physical. Just sex, just momentary relief. No strings were attaching them other than shallow attraction and occasionally alcohol.

All Sam and Colby could do was watch. They wouldn't want to make the wrong move and come across as babying Y/N. The previous couple months had made her emotionally unpredictable and they didn't want to lose her due to her continuously shortening temper.

But Colby couldn't just stay away and observe her slipping through his fingers. So, he let her go and found himself in the company of Stas. Another mutual friend, much like Seth. And he was wholeheartedly hoping she'd be the one, that it would last. That it wouldn't be another repetition of old ways.

Oh if only...

That's where we are now, half a year later with two loose relationships over which hangs the question 'what are we?'. None of the parties know. Or at least they don't want to.

The comfort Y/N was seeking in the nonchalant rendezvous with Seth has now become bitterness. She wanted someone to have and to hold, not someone that was gone minutes after the deed was done. To be frank, she's not sure if she even wanted him to stick around. There's nothing colder than an insincere embrace. She had her blankets to keep her warm, she didn't need Seth. She's been joking with Kat that at this point she needs a lobotomy.

Kat, much like Sam, has started taking not of the patterns. Of the perfect coincidences. Of the reason none of their relationships worked out in the end, no matter how wonderful they appeared all throughout. Shea and Colby were adorable, no one saw or could pin point where it all went wrong. There was a bit more understanding to Brennen and Y/N's situation. Their friendship was just stronger than their romance and that's what they picked. Amber and Colby were great, until they weren't,. Until the petty bickering and fights started. Until tensions got high and they could no longer even look each other in the eye. Nate and Y/N were the couple everyone was certain would eventually put a ring on it. It was quite the shock to find out they'd decided to break up. Once again, no one could pinpoint why.

Now, it's Seth and Stas' turn. Only time will tell if the pattern will take hold again.

"What's up guys, it's Sam and Colby!" Colby starts the intro to the video they're filming as per usual.

"Today, we'll be diving into the dark history of Savannah Penitentiary. This monstrosity of a building behind us." Sam picks up on his usual cue, turning to point at the indeed both ginormous and hideous building behind the group.

"It's gonna be a long night." Josh says through a nervous laugh, unaware just how right his prediction would prove to be later on.

So, in they go. It would be rude to keep the spirits waiting.

* * * * * *

Well the spirits sure as hell didn't keep them waiting. Even during the tour, they were very adamant on letting the group know they were present and waiting for the opportunity to talk. Bangs, knocks, taps, footsteps - each sound sending the five huddling just a bit closer together.

Sam and Colby always made it a priority to keep their guests feeling safe and comfortable on these investigations. That was - and still is - the case when they first managed to convince Y/N to tag along with them. Now she's no longer a guest but a staple of their videos, having become a fan-favorite within her first investigation. Still, her comfort and safety was of upmost importance to them. She's grown thicker skin to the paranormal over time but they're all only human and there are very few things more human than fear.

That, however, doesn't mean she's absolved of the trademark Sam and Colby solo investigations. This time she just happened to be the unlucky last on nose-goes which sent her path into the woods next to the penitentiary with nothing but a camera and an EMF meter.

"Fuck you all! I'll fucking haunt you when whatever's out there kills me." Y/N flipped Sam and Colby - and by extension Seth and Josh - the finger before making her venture out into the eerie and all too noisy night, turning on night-vision on her camera.

That's where she is now, minding each and every step with the very little visibility her camera is providing her. "This fucking sucks." She mumbles to herself, taking a drag from the cigarette she lit to calm her nerves. She's never one to publicly chicken out but she is most definitely panicking internally. So much so that a clap of thunder makes her jump and almost drop the EMF.

"Is no one here or do you just not wanna talk to me?" Y/N says, her voice louder now. She secures the cigarette between her lips to properly show the device to the camera. Nothing. Literal crickets. "Is it cause I'm a woman? Shawn told us you're not very fond of women." She attempts again, referencing what their tour guide had said earlier.

And it proves successful when the light flicks up to yellow.

"I see." She rolls her eyes as she stomps out her cig, "Well could you please refrain from being mean because I'm not just gonna stand here in this oncoming storm for you to give me nothing in return. The people want to hear what you have to say. This is your chance. Can you make this device in my hand light up if you're willing to talk to me?"

For a split second, it does light up. Almost as though the spirits are begrudgingly agreeing to converse with a woman.

"Ok great." She smiles in success, "I'll ask you yes/no questions. Light my device up for yes, ok? Or maybe give me a more obvious sign?" The EMF lights up to orange this time, scaring her briefly but it's showing progress. "Alright." Right on time as well because the first rain drops have just hit her skin. No rain will get her to move now, though. She has spirits to talk to.

Back inside the even colder halls of the penitentiary, more specifically in the basement cell unit, is Colby. He's pacing around with a frustratingly inactive Ovilus.

He's flipped the entire basement to find at least a pocket of activity and has been slapped in the face with paranormal rejection each and every time. With the quiet spell having taken over, the moment the Ovilus came to life was quite the mini heart attack.

"Woman?" Colby reads the word on the screen after recovering, his brows furrowed as he tries connecting the word to anything they've learned throughout the night. And then it clicks, or at least he thinks it does. "Are you talking about nurse Helen? Was she the one who killed you?"

Earlier during the tour, the guide showed them the medical wing where a particularly malicious spirit resided. Nurse Helen. She was a mean older woman who exuded her own justice on the inmates by method of 'medical mistake' or 'accident' which 99% of the time resulted in the death of the inmates she was supposed to tend to.

Another quiet spell before the Ovilus sounded one more word: 'Woods'.

"Huh..." Colby's initial idea is now null and void. He tries drawing a connection between the words. The conclusion comes a lot quicker this time around, coupled with a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder just as a downpour starts.

The woman in the woods.

Y/N.

Seconds later he's running up the stairs to the ground floor, breaking the rule of the solo investigation with five minutes left on the clock. He runs out in the pouring rain, using his phone flashlight for guidance because he'd left his camera in the lobby. He has no indication of where she could be exactly. The woods take up a huge portion of the property and they're paced with closely planted trees that hinder his visibility futher.

After a solid minute of no sign from her, he decides to just call out to her.

It's safe to say all color drains from Y/N's body when she hears her name echo around her through the sound of the downpour. Sounds of leaves crunching follow which serve only to further terrify her. It isn't until the second time the voice rings out calling to her that she recognizes the voice as Colby's and calls back, hoping to God it's actually him.

"Yeah?! What is it?!" She inadvertently turns off the camera and brings it down to her side, her arm sore from holding it up. She fumbles to find her phone in her pocket and shine its flashlight in the direction his voice is coming from. Just in time to illuminate Colby, soaked to the bone, much like herself.

"Oh thank God you're ok." He sighs, panting to catch his breath, resting his hands on his hips to stabilize himself and let the assurance of her well-being sink in.

"Why wouldn't I be?" She asks, pushing her damp hair to the side, pulling up the hood of her hoodie over her head, taking a couple steps toward him. She lifts his bowed head with a finger under his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. "Hey, hey...I'm ok. Relax. Everything's ok. What happened?"

In that moment, it's clear as day even in the pitch black rainy night, that these two will never find a bridge that will help them get over one another. There's no getting over what they want to be, what they could be. They may run through phases all their life and continuously miss each other.

But something will always bring them back to this. These pure, raw, intimate moments between them. Moments perfectly constructed for them to finally spit out what's been plaguing them for literal years. But they may never actually...

"I thought you were in danger. I thought...." He inhales sharply, calming himself and forcing the stuck words out, "I didn't want anything to happen to you."

Y/N gives him a smile unsure of if it's meant to reassure him or if it's just a display of how his words are making her feel. "Nothing happened, Colbs. I'm ok. I was having a nice conversation with whoever is here. Nothing's wrong. I wasn't in danger. But thank you. The fact that you came here to check on me means a lot." She lowers her hands to take hold of his ice cold ones, instinctively bringing them up to her lips to blow some warm air onto them. "You're fucking freezing, you dumbass." She laughed, pulling down the hoodie sleeves she had rolled up to cover his hands too.

His skin might be cold as ice but his heart just swelled three times its size, a small fire having been lit inside it. And it's spreading throughout his whole chest, his whole body. He can't contain it. Not the fire and not the urge to kiss her.

So he does.

And pulls back just as quickly, fearful that he'd just ruined a decade of friendship. He came out to these woods out of fear he might lose her to an uncertain danger but he may have just lost her because of his own inability to suppress his feelings any longer.

He's just about to apologize when she pulls him down by the collar of his hoodie, their lips clashing once more.

Remember what I said about their shitty situation being a classic rom-com plot? This is the perfect ending to that movie, is it not? We've seen it many times on big and small screens alike. It may be an ending to the movie but it's just the beginning of something new.

The end of the phases, the undoing of the patterns.

The start of that forever and always they were seeking with other people because they thought they could never get it with each other.

And no one's happier to see it than Sam. He witnesses it via a perfect parallel two nights later - going down to grab a late night snack and peering out in the backyard to see his best friends sitting on the pool ledge, beers all but forgotten by their sides as they are lost in each other. Their eyes, touch, scent, kisses. All they'd been starving each other of for so many years.

Seeing this, Sam knows what he has to do.

"Get a room already!" He shouts, chucking a kitchen towel at the couple, startling them into almost toppling over into the pool.

There it is - the perfect circle. It always comes back to this very pool with them two.

This time however, it's actually perfect. Because they are finally each other's. Officially, that is. He's been hers and she's been his for longer than anyone could've imagined. But none of that matters now.

Their lives are finally perfectly complete.

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kitkats-and-kittens · 8 months

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One of my favourite things to think about is the rest of the batfam all having their own ‘Brucie Wayne’ personas. So here’s me listing how I imagine the main family members would front to the public.

Dick

I think would be very similar to Bruce with the same air-headed personality. As far as the internets concerned he can’t spell orange and pretends not to know any of the 50 states let alone which one he lives in. He also uses the fact that he never officially finished college to his advantage. As a kid he was more eccentric and people just knew him as that little kid whose constantly high of sugar and lollipops. Not much changes when becomes an adult.

Of course like father like son and he is also extremely charismatic. His persona is a little more goofy than Bruce’s and he’s known as the Wayne’s resident gymnast, at least in the air. He’s made a habit of acting as though any and all fine motor skills come to an absolute stop the moment he isn’t doing some complex flip, or cartwheel. There are serval videos on YouTube of him tripping over air, spilling drinks over his shirt, and stumbling into several guests, only half of these were faked. He also has a reputation of being an absolutely insane drunk. He went viral on twitter for doing a triple backflip in the middle of a gala which resulted in a shattered punch bowl, several traumatised guests and a fake news report claiming he’d died which sent the city into a riot for the next 24 hours all because he was a little bit tipsy.

Jason

Jason was pretty young when he ‘died’. Before hand he was the happy go lucky kid. With stars in his eyes and more energy than a Chihuahua hiked up on red bull and pure, liquified blue raspberry. Of course you had the occasional leech who saw in some news report that he used to be a street kid which resulted in several rumours about his ‘horrid violent nature’ but all it took was actually meeting him for most to completely disregard this.

After his death he doesn’t hang around the rest of the family much. Especially not in public and out of masks. However there is the occasional day (once every millennia or so) where he’ll stroll up to whatever part or gala or social event the Wayne’s are hosting that day, with his foolproof, impenetrable disguise Tayson Jodd absolutely no relation to Brucies dead kid, nor the elusive red hood who has a hate account dedicated to his very existence.

His whole thing tends to be a regular upstanding member of society. He acts completely normal. This wasn’t always the case. He used to change it every time he went to the parties, either acting as some depressed, lonely rich guy or an alcoholic and on one particularly memorable occasion a closeted drag Queen. However one time he showed up without a persona pre made and ready to go and just decided to wing it.

However Tim Drakes insane paranoia meant he stayed up a good 3 weeks after that night just to make sure Jason wasn’t trying anything and when Red hood found out he found it absolutely hilarious and resolved to be as respectable as possible while also generating maximum suspicion for all other members of his family.

Stephanie Brown

Although not officially adopted by the Wayne’s most people have gotten used to seeing her just roll up with the Wayne’s and it didn’t take long for social media to realise that Brucie had emotionally adopted her, if not legally. At first Steph didn’t really understand the need for a persona. She was already fine with keeping her actual personality and not turning it off for the cameras.

It took seeing Jason, who was having an absolute blast with his public persona to open her mind to the range of possibilities and she spent a full 3 months crafting a personality from scratch (putting that psychology degree to good use).

She cycled through a couple. Rich party girl, serious career woman, ditzy idiot. But eventually she landed on scheming socialite. She saw some tabloids slandering her for being Tim’s ex and although the rest of the family was not happy she took it and ran with it. Landing herself in the circles of the most gossip loving, shit talking, hot woman she could find.

She makes sure she exudes villainy at all times and has been seen eyeing Timothy Drake from across the room, stroking a cat (though no one knew where she got it from) and sipping a martini. Although she doesn’t particularly like how cruel some of her companions are she finds no greater joy than passively aggressively remarking about how Donna is wearing the same heels she was 3 years ago and oh my is she running low on funds? She was born to instigate and takes every opportunity to do so.

Tim Drake

If Tim is known for anything then it’s his ability to appear as though everything has gone to his exact calculations on the outside while internally screaming and just completely winging whatever half brained plan comes to mind. But one forgets, he isn’t just a Wayne but a Drake. Son of Janet Drake at that.

As a kid he was very much a mamas boy and would replicate her cold calculating air to the best abilities of a 10 year old boy. As he grew up however he realised that he much preferred letting people underestimate him. So in the end he settled on the stoner.

It was pretty unexpected for most of his family. Bar Dick who embraced it with all the reverence of a chaotic older sibling. Of course Tim Drake being as meticulous as he is meant when he made this persona built it from the ground up. He gave himself a favourite drug, a fake dealer, and he methodically updates his account balance every week, taking out just enough that it looks like he’s been buying.

Not only does this have the added benefit of explaining the random times he’s passed out in the middle of a party or those random compilations of him on YouTube simply staring into the abyss for hours on end, but it also means he had to try way less than his siblings when it comes to presentation. If Dick or Bruce show up with even so much as a slightly ruffled collar the tabloids will go on for weeks about the mystery guy or girl they definitely slept with. But when Tim does it, they just laugh. He gets a pat on the head and a glass of water shoved into his hands and no one thinks anything more.

And if he can also use it as an excuse for a few extra minuets of sleep then whose going to stop him?

Cassandra Cain

Cass didn’t need to do much of anything. When she first arrived in Gotham she was small, quite and not very well versed in social customs so it was practically written in the stars that she’d become an instant fan favourite. However unlike most of her siblings most of her fans aren’t focused on her what she’s been doing, or with who, but rather on trying to spot her.

She’s some aloof, mysterious figure to them and she’s also become a bit of a where’s Waldo meme. News reporters will post overview shots of the huge hall the guest are occupying, the grounds of the manor, the well kept lawns, the roofs, and the internet will go crazy trying to find her. At first it was difficult but only because she kept to herself, you’d find her in a corner of the room, or hiding behind one of the taller guests but ever since she realised what was going on she’s been making a conscious effort to make it as difficult as possible.

Some of her hiding spots include: under the table, the roof, inside the fountain, disguised as Dick Grayson, a statue, on the chandelier, and somehow as one of the reporters, camera and all. It’s become a bit of a game to see who can find her first and she remains Gothams favourite Wayne.

Duke Thomas

Duke isn’t really sure what to make of this whole public persona thing. He finds hiding such a big part of himself a little strange, and doesn’t much enjoy the idea of putting on a mask for others. So he does what he does best and puts the rest of the Wayne’s to shame with his sound logic.

He’s just himself. And somehow manages to cause the biggest impact. The people aren’t used to rich people not being overly eccentric. This is Gotham after all! And Duke Thomas’ actual personality is not exactly something they were expecting.

This is the same man who raised an army of teenage armies in the absence of his hero. To call him impulsive would be an understatement. Also he very much enjoys ‘eating the rich’ so to speak. He used his powers to convince one particularly nasty man that he needed full psychiatric care by randomly disappearing whenever he was in their line of sight.

He hangs out with Dick a lot, but only so when the worst of the Gotham socialites approach he can make them feel as uncomfortable as possible by questioning their thoughts and feelings on the working class, living conditions and all the other stuff they usually couldn’t care less about which leaves them scrambling for an answer that won’t completely ruin their reputations. Although he’s been branded ‘the responsible one’ that’s only because he presents himself as such to reporters. Most of the people attending the galas live in fear of him ever approaching them.

Damian Wyane

Being the youngest meant that people already had expectations by the time Damian showed up. Although most had no idea where the kid came from that didn’t stop them from making assumptions, and the rumours circulating from before he was officially introduced range from a mini Bruce Wayne to raging alcoholic. And yes, these were published when reporters knew damn well he was 10 years old maximum.

When the public do finally see him for the first time it doesn’t take them long to craft a persona for him. Damian of course sees this whole thing as beneath him, he doesn’t understand why he would need to hide himself, he didn’t train with the league for years to just not show of his skills. Dick tries to get him to think of it like training, as though he were on an undercover mission. This works a little too well and now he takes it so incredibly seriously it’s hard for the others not to laugh.

He arrived, squeezed in between Brucie Wayne who was blowing kisses to the camera, Dick Grayson doing a handstand, Tim Drake who looked absolutely blitzed and Stephanie Brown who was manically rubbing her hands together. Cass nowhere to be found and Duke giving his classic sunny smile to the camera.

So of course people realise this kid must be the adult. There’s jokes about how Damian must be the one doing the Wayne’s taxes, about how he probably drives Bruce to work, and other such things. Which is only further cemented by the kid himself. But he also doesn’t talk much (Dick said if he had nothing nice to say he shouldn’t say anything), and a few (illegally taken) photos show him drawing, as well as his small army of pets and so people are torn between this kid who is clearly far too mature for his age and this cute baby of a child who likes fluffy animals and crayons.

Damian is disgusted by both sides, but there isn’t much he can do about it and resolves instead to fuck with everyone by leaning into it and alternating on a seemingly random basis between clueless child and grown adult in a 10 year olds body. It mostly ends up terrifying the rest of his family because occasionally Damian (who several of them watched kill a man) will come up smiling and demand to be placed on their shoulders, and other times the same kid (who found a cow a decided immediately he was a vegetarian) will be found sipping straight vodka and going on about the good old days with people 8x his age as though he were some drunken world war 2 veteran.

#bruce wayne #richard grayson #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #damian wayne #Public persona #batfam #they were born to terrorise the rich #dc comics #brucie wayne #Tayson Jodd

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fioiswriting · 8 months

Text

The sea and the fire

“Fire and water looked so lovely together. It was a pity they destroyed each other by nature.” - R.F Kuang

Rating : will be explicit 18+ later, MDNI Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader, Cregan Stark x Reader later TW : mention of blood, mention of murder. TW will be added as the story progresses. Words count : 4361 AN : Hello everyone! I'm back from the deads hehe. Sorry, I've been busy with a lot of things lately, I've had a couple of exams and I'm also in the process of writing my (second) master's thesis. Sooo anyway, I've written the first chapter of my new fanfic. Yes, it is YET ANOTHER story that involves niece!reader x Aemond and it is adapted from an RP with my girlfriend. If you're tired of this trope, if you're uncomfortable with this dynamic, I suggest you find another fanfic (there are plenty of masterpieces on tumblr anyway!! 💕). It's been on my mind for a long time, and I finally found the time to finish this first chapter. I don't know yet how many chapters there will be or how often I'll post, but I hope you like it! 💕 As always, be nice, I know there are probably some inconsistencies, but we're here to have fun, right? (BTW, I've been bingewatching Vikings and I know the fandom is kinda dead, but I want to write some x readers now)

Also, English is not my first (nor second) language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes!!

Thank you for reading!!

Chapter 1 : Silk Street

War of heart - Ruelle 🎶

The streets of King's Landing had the peculiar quality of being both enticing and repelling; like a unique, curious spectacle that you discovered with every hesitant step you took. The smell of fresh fish mingled with that of fire and sewers, tickling your nose with unfamiliar smells. It was new to you, these smells, these sounds too; the hammering of the blacksmith's tools on the metal, the shouts of the merchants, the rolling of the cartwheels on the cobblestones of the winding streets. It was different from what you were used to; the steady rocking of the waves, the calm of the rain, the ups and downs of the tides. The only turbulence in your daily life were the storms you were so fond of, and the thunder, the lightning, the wind that shook the stones and lifted the waves had an untameable yet terribly soothing aspect.

Unlike King's Landing.

If it wasn't the natural elements that threatened to unleash their wrath here in King's Landing, it was the unpredictability of the people in the streets, the danger lurking around every corner, the risk of disappearing forever into the shadows of a forgotten alley.

Apart from the hustle and bustle of the forbidden streets you were discovering for the first time after so many years - and the adrenaline rush of breaking the restriction on venturing there - King's Landing was, objectively speaking, a deadly bore.

But it was still less boring than going round in circles in the castle.

You knew it was the dream of every lady in the Seven Kingdoms to live within the walls of the Red Keep, for it had been yours for a long time. Back when you lived in your childhood bedroom - the one on the second floor - you had no trouble imagining yourself spending your life in the gardens of the Red Keep, with your husband, enjoying the strawberry cakes and the books in the great library.

After all, you and Aemond were inseparable.

But in the meantime, fate had decided otherwise, and the mild climate of King's Landing, where you were born, where you celebrated your first words and your first steps, had been replaced by the vagaries of Dragonstone's weather. It was the sea, the storm and the rain that raised you, and it was with your feet in the water, on the shingle, that you grew up.

Living in King's Landing now was different from anything you'd ever imagined before.

King's Landing tasted bland. Boring.

Your mother had promised that the stay would be temporary, a few weeks at most, just to settle some business with Alicent and Viserys - your grandfather. The aim was to find a way to keep the peace between your families, but you weren't an idiot. You knew that the rift between your families was growing wider and wider.

And that one of the only ways to prevent a total, irreparable rupture was a promise of marriage.

Then again, wasn't it your duty to be sold into marriage, to strengthen the bonds, to carry the family's shaky balance on your shoulders?

You already missed Dragonstone. You missed the sea. You missed walking on cold water.

King's Landing was like a golden prison you couldn't leave because everything around it was too dangerous.

And you were bored. You had been reading. You had been embroidering. You had wandered far and wide through the gardens. You'd listened kindly and attentively to Helaena talk about her insects, and you'd spent several afternoons sharing court gossip with Baela and Rhaena.

You spent much of your time avoiding your uncle. Or watching him from afar.

For he had changed terribly; for better or worse, you weren't sure. You only kept the memories of your shared childhood, somewhere in your heart, like a buried secret, like a triple-locked treasure you'd sworn never to open again.

The memories were painful. They created a lump in your throat, they kept you awake at night, they made your tears flow.

And that was why you locked them away and threw away the key that kept them locked.

You decided you weren't that child anymore - you stopped being that child when you went your separate ways, when you went back to Dragonstone and he stayed here. Now he wasn't the little boy you left either: he had become this cold, tall, ruthless young man. He had that cunning little smile, that air of self-assurance he wore with his head held high and his chin up.

Boredom drove you to follow Aegon into the city. He suggested it and suddenly all sense of reason left your body. Weren't you the most reasonable of your siblings, the most prudent, the most intelligent? An inexplicable feeling had urged you to accept, like two hands behind your back pushing you towards him, like a voice in your head encouraging you to abandon your model daughter's appearance: the call of transgression. Curiosity. The desire to be bold. The danger. For once you were making a decision, your own decision, without your parents or brothers knowing. You were the master of your actions, and in a way, it was an act of rebellion that gave you a feeling of freedom, that awakened a sense of excitement in you.

Ser Erryk protested, of course, when he realised your little ploy, but you had already vanished before he could stop you. You laughed as you followed Aegon, his mischievous smile at the corner of his lips as he led you through the secret passage that allowed you to sneak out of the castle, your hand in the crook of his elbow so as not to lose you.

And everything went well. You enjoyed your newfound freedom with a mixture of curiosity and fear, your body pressed against your uncle's, the hood pulled down over your forehead. You had the advantage of dark hair - the opposite of the Targaryens' emblematic features. It attracted less attention, you knew it. But your curious gaze, your round eyes that discovered the ordinary life of the lowborn must have intrigued the most observant ones, for Aegon nudged you in the ribs when he caught you looking a little too intently at the work of a craftsman.

"You make a poor peasant," he whispered in your ear. "Well... You're obviously too pretty to be a peasant, that's for sure. But try to be more discreet." He paused. "Those men are looking at you like hungry dogs" he lowered his voice. You rolled your eyes and patted him on the shoulder.

To tell the truth, you weren't comfortable with all those men giving you lecherous looks, but Aegon's presence was reassuring.

He showed you the shortcuts he knew, the secrets, the curiosities of the city, and he talked to you. You wondered if he, too, had changed. You wondered if he'd gone from that stupid, mocking, annoying child to a secretly vulnerable, secretly lonely young adult. You knew about his bad habits; alcohol and sex, but this secret escapade showed you a side of him you didn't know. When had he become nice?

"Wait for me," he said as you looked around. The streets had changed, they had become busier, and suddenly you realised that you were frightened. "I'll be quick. Don't move and keep this on your head."

You wanted to protest, to hold him back, but your uncle had already slipped away.

You were all alone in the Silk of Street.

Your heartbeat quickened. You weren't sure you'd find your way back, and Aegon had ordered you to stay there, not to move, not to talk to anyone. Fuck.

Fuck.

Had he done it on purpose? Was it a plan he'd been hatching all along, a bad joke he'd decided to play on his niece, on Rhaenyra's only daughter? Was he still the mean boy who bullied his little brother? Or did he actually have a real reason for leaving you there, all alone, in the street where brothels piled up and nobles went to satisfy their needs?

You were angry at yourself for trusting him. You blamed yourself for being so naive. You couldn't believe he'd really set a trap for you, not after the complicity you'd shared just before.

Or maybe he was just being Aegon; irresponsible and immature, oblivious to danger, and so stupid as to think that waiting for him here was a good idea.

You sighed. Tears tickled the corners of your eyes with fear, but you tried to chase them away, to swallow them down, to calm your racing heart. The last thing you needed was to draw attention to yourself.

But there were these men all around you, looking at you as if they were ready to pounce. Was this how you would end up, abducted, and sold into a cheap brothel? Murdered after serving the needs of a few old men? You shuddered at the thought.

The voices around you mingled with the tumult, blurred images drawing unidentified shapes before your eyes, and you took a deep breath to try and calm yourself, rubbing your sweaty palms against the fabric of your cloak.

"So? What do you say, girl?"

A hand on your waist.

You weren't sure you understood what the man in front of you was saying. The words were bouncing around in your head without you being able to make them out, but his hungry smile was enough to reveal their nature. You froze. He was joined by another man, and you took a step back, then a second. It was as if your body refused to obey you, as if your brain stopped working, and you hated yourself for it.

You hated yourself for being so weak.

You had a dragon. You were a Targaryen. So why were you trembling? Why couldn't you gather your courage and run, gather your courage and plunge your dagger into someone's chest, fight and scream?

One of them, the older-looking one, closed his hand around your wrist.

"Let me go!" You screamed, but the words caught in your throat, escaping your lips like a distorted cry. "Go away!"

Simple commands that couldn't get through the space between your lips with the authority you wanted.

You closed your eyes, trying to resist.

Fuck. You were going to die. You were going to be raped and then you were going to die, or be sold into sex work, or -

Something splashed in your face and suddenly you felt free.

"Didn't you hear her? She said let me go," a hoarse voice growled.

Your blood ran cold.

You knew exactly who it was.

That calm but sharp tone belonged to only one person: Aemond Targaryen.

How had he found you? Why had he found you? You opened your eyes instantly, your cheeks still red with shame. You knew you'd been irresponsible, and that wasn't in your nature at all, quite the opposite. But the fact that Aemond had caught you in such a weak position bothered and annoyed you.

It was supposed to be your secret, your act of rebellious transgression, your forbidden escapade with Aegon. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

It wasn't supposed to be Aemond rescuing you.

You opened your eyes. Facing you, the older man was kneeling on the pavement. He was clutching at his right side, blood trickling through his fingers to the ground. He was suffocating, blood pouring from his lips, but Aemond wiped the blade of his sword with a satisfied smile.

The crowd had gathered to watch what was happening, a mixture of fear and curiosity on their faces, but Aemond was already hastening to chase them away in a tone that left no room for discussion:

"There's nothing to see," he thundered. "Go away. All of you. Or I'll serve you as food for Vhagar."

The crowd dispersed, frightened; women grabbing their children by the shoulders to force them to move, barefoot beggars hurrying to gather their bowl and few coins to find another place, prostitutes closing the curtains with an irritated sigh, old men almost stumbling, and soon the street was deserted.

Despite the hood that covered his face, you could see the flat line of his grin and the cold, accusing look with which he stared at you. He was furious.

Perhaps he expected you to thank him, for Aemond approached you without a word. You looked up at him, your cheeks still red with shame. You were too proud to thank him.

And you were still too angry, too.

Angry at his silence all these years, angry that he'd let you down when you'd stood up for him, angry at the man he'd become.

"Are you coming or not?" he asked in his icy voice, his hand already closing around your wrist to force you forward, but you didn't move.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, frowning. You'd suddenly regained your repartee.

You knew you had to calm things down, thank him and follow him in silence. Accept the humiliation and beg for his silence. You knew you were making things more difficult than they already were, but that was Aemond. And once again, in front of Aemond, you had a pride to uphold.

"What am I doing here?" he repeated, his voice sharp. He froze, his dark eyes glaring at you as if you'd just insulted him. Suddenly you felt so small in front of him. "I should be asking you that question," he added dryly, obviously trying to keep the tone of his voice under control. "You're even more stupid than I thought."

The sentence had the effect of a slap in the face, and you felt your cheeks burning. Like a little girl caught red-handed, you lowered your head. What had been going through your mind? Why had you decided to follow Aegon in the first place?

Aemond lifted you with ease and slung you over his shoulder like a sack of flour, as if he wanted to be sure you would follow him, as if he feared you would escape again, as if he didn't trust you.

And in the end, perhaps he was right.

As he carried you to the Red Keep, your fists pounded on his back. Small blows that he ignored, painless on the width that was his back.

He seemed to ignore you, perhaps more annoyed that you wouldn't stay still than anything else. But you didn't need him to play the perfect knight, not when he'd been ignoring you all this time. Not when he'd barely spoken to you on your return to King's Landing. Not when he drew a line under your childhood as if nothing had happened.

Not when he kept harassing your brothers.

It irritated you. He played the role of the ideal husband-to-be, impassive and calm; as if he'd always been the knight in shining armour he never was.

"You could at least let me go," you sighed, seeing that nothing seemed to disturb your uncle's icy calm. "I know how to walk. "

He had a moment's hesitation where he stopped, and then you felt him readjust your position with a flick of his shoulder. You had no trouble imagining the corners of his lips curling upwards, painting his face with his usual insolent grin, you had no trouble imagining him chuckling at your condition.

"Stop it, you are only making it harder for us," he growled in an authoritative voice. "And if you are not happy, I can always leave you here." He paused. "I did not know you dreamed of working in a brothel."

The comment was enough to send another wave of heat up your cheeks, colouring them red, but you tried as best you could to keep your composure, as if not to betray your embarrassment in front of the prince.

You refused to show him that his remark had affected you.

You just gritted your teeth and sighed.

The position was becoming uncomfortable: Aemond's bony shoulder was digging into your stomach and your legs were going numb, as if thousands of little ants were crawling all over them.

You hoped no one would see you when you got back to the castle. Your excursion into the city was supposed to be discreet; you weren't supposed to come back with a blood-stained tunic, nor hanging over your one-eyed uncle's shoulders.

If Aemond knew anything about the impending official announcement of your betrothal, he said nothing, walking ahead of him as if you were as light as a sack of grain.

"Qybor." You whispered again, this time using High Valyrian. Uncle. You hoped the nickname would make him react. "Qybor," you repeated a little louder. "I can walk by myself now."

If the nickname had any effect on him, Aemond didn't show it. But you had no trouble imagining the stupefaction you would have read on his face had you been face to face with him. You were proud of your skills in High Valyrian: you learned faster than Jace, faster than Luke, but then again, you'd always loved books and history, languages and learning. Aemond would probably remember that, it was what brought you together as a child in the first place.

You could see the tall towers of the Red Keep in front of you, their red bricks standing out against the blue sky. From a distance, you could understand the fascination of the people. There was something great, something sumptuous about the sight of this building, and you understood why it had taken three reigns to build it.

But despite your pleas, Aemond had not moved an eye. You knew that if your uncle hadn't intervened, you would probably have ended up in a dark alley, or in a filthy brothel, used as a plaything by a bunch of drunken lords, or in the dirty hands of ill-intentioned men. The thought made a lump grow in your throat that you found hard to swallow.

You were definitely naive and stupid for agreeing to follow Aegon like that.

Still, you hadn't bothered to thank Aemond.

You had too much pride to thank him, a flaw you'd inherited from your family.

You were stubborn, never satisfied, and always had something to say.

But Aemond, it seemed, had as much - if not more - pride than you.

Your engagement promised to be surprising.

"I am serious, Aemond," you added. It felt strange to call him by his first name when you hadn't addressed him that way for years. "I am a..." strong woman, you wanted to reply, but you chose another word instead, not wanting to give him the occasion to mock you: "independent woman".

As you approached the entrance - you prayed Aemond would choose one of the secret passages, you couldn't bear the humiliation of being carried off like a piece of merchandise by your presumed future husband - he stopped and set you down. His single eye searched your face, as if looking for the slightest trace of gratitude, but he knew he wouldn't find any; he knew it would have been too easy, and he knew it wouldn't have been you.

You weren't easy.

Pulling your arm to make you walk faster, Aemond forced you to follow him, around the ramparts, glancing around to make sure no one was following you. He pulled a little harder. "Mandianna," he began, his husky voice vibrating, the tone sending a wave of heat through your lower belly.

There was something incredibly pleasing about hearing the intonations of High Valyrian roll off your uncle's tongue.

But that was Aemond. And it was out of the question for you to feel anything for Aemond.

Around the bend in the ramparts, out of sight, he slammed you against the wall, both hands pressed firmly against your shoulders to prevent you from fleeing. "What exactly did you think would happen when you went to Silk Street, tell me?"

You knew what he was thinking. That you were irresponsible. That your actions were unworthy of someone of your station, and even more so if you were to be his future betrothed. That he wondered if your time on Dragonstone had made you reckless and wild, that he wondered if he might need to teach you some manners before he could marry you.

His judging gaze swept you from head to toe. As if to say that though your father's legitimacy was often questioned, Aemond knew that you were indeed Rhaenyra's daughter.

You avoided his gaze, your eyes fixed on a point beside his face. You wanted to say something witty, but the young prince had robbed you of any chance of intelligent thought, and you hated this feeling.

"I didn't think you'd come looking for me, Qybor," you replied with a grin as you looked up at him. "I thought you were a busy man."

You felt his fingers tighten on your shoulders, his nails digging into the fabric of your cloak and tunic underneath. Your behaviour was childish, like a petulant brat, but secretly you enjoyed seeing Aemond lose his temper. You liked to push him to his limits. You liked to see the subtle signs of his irritation; the moment when he clenched his jaw, when he straightened his neck, when his breathing quickened.

If you were to marry him, then you would be poison, ready to corrupt his soul.

He grabbed the collar of your linen tunic and pushed you a little harder against the wall. "I thought you were smarter than to follow my brother into the city." His body rigid against yours kept you pinned to the wall.

The expression on his face betrayed his inner conflict: part of him thinking that he shouldn't care about his niece's actions, about you. Part of him reminding that you were soon to be betrothed.

And you knew that the thought of other men putting their hands on you, on his bride's body was lighting a fire in the pit of his stomach.

Jealousy.

Possessiveness.

Aemond was a man driven by duty. On this level, you were the same; the model son and model daughter of your respective families, charged with performing your duties to prevent the gulf that separated your families from widening.

Both the eternal seconds of your families.

Both the pride of your mothers.

Suddenly he released you. His hand found your wrist again and he pulled you through the corridors of the castle. Had anyone caught you now, your hood pulled down over your forehead, your clothes hiding your appearance, they would probably have frowned and wondered if Aemond had suddenly decided to follow in his brother's footsteps, his taste for debauchery, by bringing a common girl or a cheap prostitute into his chamber.

For at that moment, you did not look like the daughter of royal blood that you were, not with your simple linen clothes, not with the thick cloak that covered your body, not with your hair tied up carelessly. You looked like a servant girl, a smallfolk girl, not like the Pearl of Dragonstone that you truly were.

Aemond's fingers burned around your wrist. You wondered if he felt it, too. If you were causing the same effect in him.

But he was impassive, always so difficult to read. He hid his feelings, buried them under a cold, mysterious shell, as if to protect himself.

He stopped in front of the door that led to your bedroom. Fortunately, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the courage to face your parents' disappointed looks, you didn't have the courage to realise that you had betrayed their trust, even if, for a moment, you had forgotten your duty, you had forgotten the responsibilities that weighed on your shoulders, you had tasted a feeling of freedom, so new, so delicious. A foolish act of transgression.

But you were safe and sound, and that was the most important thing.

"You'd better get changed," Aemond suggested. "It would be better if my mother didn't see you like this."

He clenched his jaw. He looked concentrated, as if he wanted to add something, as if he wanted to reprimand you but had to force himself to remain silent. An instant of silence hung between you. The urge to ask him if he was going to report your little escapade burned on the tip of your tongue, but you thought better of it.

Aemond's single eye was riveted to you. Piercingly. Fierce.

For a brief moment, a very brief moment, your uncle's ragged breathing caressed your face and your heart raced.

He was so close.

"Why? Don't you like to see me dressed like a common girl, my prince?" you asked, teasingly. Like a common girl you could bend over in some dark and gloomy street, you thought. But Aemond was not Aegon, and you felt him hesitate, as if the words had taken him by surprise. His hand, about to find your jaw and make you swallow your insolence, had stopped halfway.

You smirk. Aemond had nothing to worry about. For the official announcement of your betrothal, you had planned to wear a dress that would honour your Velaryon origins.

"Rest assured, qybor," you continued, taking a step in his direction.

Poison in his soul, you repeated in your head. That's what you'd be to your uncle. You took the time observe him, as if studying him, as if imagining the effect the words you were about to say would have on your uncle. Your eyes sparkled with mischief, and perhaps with something else. "Your betrothed is still intact for her wedding night," you finally whispered in his ear.

He held his breath. You knew that you would break down, brick by brick, the barriers he'd spent years building around his heart.

You wanted him raw.

But before you turned on your heel to enter your chamber, you summoned all the courage you had left in your body and stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on the prince's jaw.

"Thank you for coming to my rescue, my prince."

And then, you were gone.

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x niece!reader #aemond targaryen fanfic

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 11 months

Text

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 7

Part 1 Part 6

Eddie may not have thought this through. The walk to the trailer doesn’t take long, even with the limp Harrington’s trying to hide and the weight of their backpacks.

Eddie wants to stretch out each step to last hours, even as the bottom of his feet ache, and his stomach rumbles its displeasure. But sooner than he’s prepared for, there it is: home sweet home.

Unfortunately, in the light of a red-hellscape day, his trailer looks shittier than usual. It’s sky-blue paneling is blocked out by the vines crawling their way up its sides, coiling atop the windows like it’s a choice. There’s dirt caking it, like the vines dragged up all manner of mud and debris on their trip toward the sky.

It’s a beacon of rural piss-poor American life, and King Steve Harrington had just brushed past him on the doorstep to shove his way inside without even a by your leave.

Eddie’s not embarrassed by his life with Wayne. There’s a light in his heart for him that will never go out. He’s given him so much – a room of his own, consistent meals in his belly, someone to ask him what his plans are for the day over morning coffee. This is the best it’s ever been for Eddie Munson.

But there’s something curdling in his gut that feels an awful lot like shame. He imagines Harrington in there now, perusing Uncle Wayne’s mug collection with a derisive curl to his lip. Judging the way some of their logos are faded, the little chips in the handles and lips. The way none of them match. The way springs stick out in a few places in the pull-out couch. The television that’s at least ten years out of date. The hole in the bathroom door where Eddie’s foot had gone through when he’d been trying to learn how to cartwheel at thirteen.

All the little things he never even thinks about, stacking up in the face of King Steve’s perfect hair and perfect house. It’s curdling his insides, sinking like cement, weighing him to the stoop for a few moments more.

He takes a deep breath, pulls the dangling hem of his vest in tight, and shoves through the door like he hadn’t just been having a stupid breakdown over class warfare while trapped in a hellscape and being hunted by monsters.

Harrington’s not in the living room or the conjoining kitchen. Eddie’s bedroom door is still firmly shut. He follows the rustling sound to the kitchen where he finds Harrington, stooped over and rifling through the cupboard below the sink.

“Whatcha doing in there, big boy?” There’s a curl of satisfaction at the way the other boy jumps, smacking his head against the cupboard door.

He pulls his head out, grimacing up at Eddie and rubbing the back of his head. “Looking for anything useful.” He ducks back under the cupboard. Eddie stands there, listening the rustling of his first aid cabinet as Harrington digs through it. He resists the urge to yank Harrington out by his hair.

Almost as if he heard the though, Harrington bolts upright, narrowly missing hitting his head for a second time as he turns to Eddie, eyes wide. “Shit, sorry. I forgot this was like, your house.” He looks at the window, the light half obscured by the vines crawling over its glass and amends, “well, sort of.”

Eddie can’t help the way he laughs. “You’re good dude,” he says, patting Harrington’s shoulder lightly. “But I don’t think you’ll find anything down there that we didn’t already get from Melvald’s.”

Harrington sighs. “Well, then,” he says, “where are the goods?”

Eddie retrieves Wayne’s shotgun from its place of honor behind his recliner, grabbing a box of extra shells from the little cupboard above the fridge.

The way Harrington grimaces as Eddie hands it over doesn’t inspire confidence, nor does the way he eyes the thing like he’s never seen one before, finger twitching toward the trigger before appearing to think better of it.

“How long ago was that hunting trip, dude?” he asks, trepidation leaking into his tone.

“I was eight,” Steve murmurs, barely audible.

“That was almost ten years ago!” His voice breaks in the middle. A pit has opened up in his stomach, and Harrington is going to throw them both in it and send that thing in after them.

“Do you have a better idea?” he hisses.

The kicker? Eddie really really doesn’t.

Part 8

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #stranger things #my fic

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of-many-fandomss · 2 years

Note

Hi lovely!!

James Potter dating shy reader, one who gets flustered at little touches but needs to hold his hand in public cause the crowd in the halls. Or maybe a girl is hitting on him at a party and although the reader is shy, you just sit in James lap and act all bold but being really flustered deep down

-🎧

Back to writing for James 🫶🫶🫶

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Blindly flailing your arm out, your hand continuedly snatched at air until it was finally able to grasp onto a large hand that gave you a surprisingly gentle and sweet squeeze for its size.

You didn’t do well in large crowds. That was a fact.

The hallway near charms had some of the most crowded corridors after class. That was also a fact.

Your boyfriend, James, was always there to grab your hand and bravely surge the two of you through the overwhelming crowd. That was the most important fact.

“Come on, love,” You heard him murmur out of the corner of his mouth as he angled his head slightly to face you, never once slowing his determined pace, “We’re almost there.”

The sheer size of your boyfriends heart of gold never ceased to amaze you. Nor did it ever not send butterflies that did cartwheels to your stomach. He was too good to you.

As soon as he saw an opening, the boy immediately took a sharp turn down a hallway, gently dragging you along right behind him.

Like always, he stood there a moment, your chests practically touching as he placed one hand on your shoulder as the other toyed carefully with your hair while he waited for you to calm down.

“You alright, love?” He asked after your breathing had mostly returned to normal.

No matter how many times you did this, there was never any less worry swimming in his eyes as there were the first time.

Slowly, you nodded, breathing being regained and turned to normal, “Y-yeah, yeah. I’m alright, Jamie.”

“Good,” He mumbled, leaning forward and placing a long kiss on your forehead, “Good.”

#james potter x reader #james potter blurb #marauders era blurb #🎧 anon

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hyperfixationstation128 · 2 months

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The Burdens of The Father

Pairing: Gale x Tav though Tav doesn't make an appearance in the story.

Words: 1,091

TW: Non-explicit mentions of Gale's abuse at the hands of Mystra.

Summary: The joy of Gale's son showing off his newfound powers is quickly soured by memories of Gale's past. Now he must find a way to explain the price of magic to his dearest treasure.

Big shoutout to @bladesandbhaalspawn for inspiring me to write this with their additions to my silly lil post about how Gale would be terrified as a father to a magical son. Your story ROCKED!

They say that you never truly know the dangers of the world until you become a parent. That you’ll never be filled with more dread than when you first hold your baby in your arms. Gale had always thought to himself that he would never be fit to be a father. That he’d be too cruel, or too lenient, too something! Until the day came when he held his child in his arms. His son. He had never seen something so beautiful in his life. This pure, sweet child that had his bearings, who’s smile could brighten even the deepest of darkness, who’s laughter was enough to fill anyone’s heart with elation, this child was his greatest love.

“You will never want for anything… my son, my love. I will always be here for you.”

That was his vow that day. And he strived to live up to every word! His son never knew hunger, nor anger, nor the paralyzing claws of fear. Their home was one filled with love, with laughter and joy. It was hard not to love someone who looked at you like you hung the moon, like you painted the skies just for them. To a child, their parents are their first gods. And to a parent, their child is their greatest joy… and greatest source of fear.

Eight years had passed since the birth of his son Drystan; Eight years of blissful ignorance… Eight years of freedom. All since were dashed now as his beloved son came bounding into Gale’s library, his brown eyes aflame with excitement, his grin pulled so wide it made his cheeks puff.

“Father! Father!” He cried, his hands outstretched.

Gale instantly abandoned the assignments he was grading to turn to his son, hoisting him onto his lap and tousling his hair. “My, you’re in a delighted mood! What splendor has befallen you to warrant such a smile?” He poked Drystan’s cheeks lightly.

The boy scrambled from his father’s lap and stood before him, beaming with pride as he stretched out his hands. “I got a trick to show you!”

“You have a trick to show me.” He corrected, tapping his son’s nose.

Too excited to argue like he normally would, Drystan extended his arms before him. Gale assumed he had finally mastered the cartwheel he’d been practicing, or maybe he was going to put on another play he’d written, anything except what he was about to witness.

With a scrunched nose and tightly shut eyes, his son made a concentrated face, his small hands trembling slightly. A few beats of silence followed until in an instant, blue light flew from the boy’s fingertips, forming a near perfect sphere in his hands. With a grunt of effort, he threw his arms in the air, illuminating the entire office in azure light. Soft glitters of Weave sprinkled around them like pixie dust before fading completely.

Gale gaped in amazement at his son’s performance, his eyes wide and beginning to sting with proud tears. How incredible! How fantastic! Not even he had been able to conjure such control over his magic as a boy! He was a natural, a prodigy! Just… just like he had been when he was Drystan’s age. Just like he had been when Elminster came and proclaimed him one of the Chosen… Mystra’s chosen. Gale’s smile fell, his forehead wrinkling with a worried frown. Mystra… she had named him her chosen all those years ago. She had taken him by her side when he was his son’s age. She trained him, she guided him… she used him.

Fear gripped Gale’s heart and he looked to his son. His sweet, innocent boy, with his glittering eyes and tousled brown curls. He had no idea what this would mean for him. What future awaited him as his powers continued to grow. The thought of Mystra placing her godly hands upon his son was enough to make him sick. The memories of how he was made to believe he was worthless unless he used his magic, of how he’d grown so desperate for her approval that he nearly killed himself for her had soured what should have been a wonderful moment between father and son.

No. No, he wouldn’t let that happen! The goddess may have blessed Drystan with her gifts, but she would not have him! She would not taint this loving, naive boy with her sick games! She will never get to lay her hands on him and manipulate him with honeyed words and false promises. His son would never know the price of her shared knowledge. Not while Gale still drew breath!

Gale knelt down to Drystan’s level, firmly holding his small hands and giving him a stern look. “Listen to me, my son. You must never do that again. Do you understand? Never let anyone see you do that.”

Drystan frowned like a kicked puppy, puzzled by his father’s reaction. “Bu… but… You always told me magic was a gift! That magic was everything to you! Why aren’t you proud of me?” His brows knit together.

Gale stuttered, struggling to find the right words to use to make him understand the dangers this could bring. He didn’t get the chance to explain as Dyrystan yanked his hands back and stared back at him with wide, tearful eyes. The look his son gave him was enough to break Gale’s heart. He didn’t know better. And to know his son didn’t think his father was proud of him? Shame filled his heart as his eyes fell to the floor. He was no better than his own father.

With a hefty sigh, Gale reached for his son’s hands, holding them gentler this time. “I will always be proud of you. Never, never doubt that I treasure you exactly as you are.” Tears strangled his throat, his voice breaking. “You are the best gift I could have ever been blessed with - better than any amount of magic the gods could bestow! You’re my son… and I don’t know what I’d do if you were to be hurt.” He pressed a kiss to Drystan’s hands and pulled him into a tight hug.

“What do you mean?”

Another sight fell from his lips and he pulled away, pushing himself to his feet and walking towards the balcony. With a wave of his hand, the doors opened to reveal the nighttime scene outside, before turning back to his son and beckoning him to follow.

“Come… I have a story to share with you.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #baldurs gate gale #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #gale fanfic #gale angst #gale x tav #tav x gale #baldur's gate oc #gale headcanons

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229zmi · 1 year

Text

AU REVOIR

PAIRING: Kuroo Tetsurō/Reader

CONTENT: embarrassing moments, you and kuroo are #strangers, kuroo is late to a job interview, phonecall with kenma

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

“Hey, uh. Can I help you?”

Oh, god. Kuroo Tetsurō has never been more embarrassed.

Not even when he was suffering from a particularly bad case of borborygmus in a completely silent lecture hall, or when he accidentally liked someone’s post from 176 weeks ago. Nor was he this embarrassed the time his umbrella turned inside out and cartwheeled out of his hand into a ditch in front of several cars stopped at a traffic light. And who knows how many embarrassing moments he’s had throughout all his years of volleyball— but this moment right here. It still takes the cake.

Pause, rewind, play: this morning, ten minutes ago. The sky was blue, the birds were chirping, and Kuroo Tetsurō? Ten minutes ago, he was suddenly woken up by a loud sound, although it wasn’t the sound of an alarm, no, for there was no alarm to wake up to. What woke him up was actually a call from Kenma, who almost never called him, so he figured it had to be important.

“Hello? Everything okay?”

“Are you on your way to your interview?”

Of course. How typical of Kenma, always straight to the point, no pleasantries or—

Wait.

“Wh—“ Kuroo blinks a couple times to wake himself up, groggily rubbing his eyes. He lets out a yawn loud enough to shift earth’s tectonics before continuing his sentence, “What’d you say?”

“Your job interview,” Kenma repeats from his phone, “it starts at eight-thirty, doesn’t it?”

Silence fills the conversation for a while. Kuroo’s eyes begin to flutter shut, lulled by the faint sound of static emitted by the call. It isn’t until his phone slips out of his hand and hits the sheets with soft thud! that Kenma speaks up, impeding the drowsy man’s short-lived slumber.

“Hello?”

“Hm,” Kuroo hums.

“You are ready, right?” His best friend’s starting to sound concerned. “Like, all dressed up and halfway out the door ready. Right?”

“Mm… hm.”

Kenma restrains himself from somehow reaching his hands through the phone and violently shaking Kuroo by the shoulders. “That does not sound convincing. Please don’t tell me you’re still in bed.”

Still clueless, Kuroo yawns again, rolling over onto his other side. “And if I am? I set an alarm last night, you didn’t need to call me. I can handle it myself.”

“Kuro,” Kenma says. Now he sounds dead serious, like he’s about to be the deliverer of either some grave news or an overdue love confession. Unfortunately for Kuroo, it’s the former; Kenma drops the bomb without hesitation: “You have twenty minutes before your interview starts.”

“I didn’t realise you were so punctual, Kenma. Twenty minutes, that’s plenty of t—“

Oh.

(Pause, rewind, play: the night before. Kuroo turned off all the lights. Hopped under the covers. Went straight to sleep. He did not set his alarm.)

Shit.

“I swear I set my alarm last night,” Kuroo speaks into the phone, running a hand through his hair out of frustration. In the past seven minutes, he’s managed to brush his teeth, get dressed, and exit his apartment without any major troubles. Sure, his hair’s a little… controversial in the back, and there’s some noticeable creases in his button-up shirt, but clearly, a bigger issue lies at hand — and no, it’s not the judging stares that the other pedestrians are giving him as he power-walks through the city. “You don’t think they’ll mind if I’m a few minutes late, do ya?”

Kenma audibly sighs.

“I don’t know what that means, so I’m taking that as you telling me they’ll one hundred-percent hire me on the spot.”

This time, Kenma doesn’t make a sound, though Kuroo senses he may have rolled his eyes. Either that, or he made a face akin to someone tasting a lemon.

“I’m hanging up,” his friend finally says, deciding he’s done enough to help today. Even this is something he considers charitable in their friendship; usually, Kenma prefers to treat calls with his friends like another app on his phone and close out of the call without warning, so maybe Kuroo should be grateful on this glorious day, he thinks.

“What? No, you can’t do that. That’s.”

“…That’s what?”

“Treason,” Kuroo finishes. “I still need your moral support. So—“

There’s a dull beep coming from the other end. Betrayed, Kuroo pulls his phone away from his ear only to be met with the image on his lockscreen — a photo of an outing with his friends some weeks ago — and the ever-daunting time, which currently reads: 08:19. A second later, the screen turns black and he catches sight of his reflection, including his unfortunately dishevelled hair and his wrinkled shirt and—

He winces.

His tie needs serious fixing.

The building where his interview will be at is only a few blocks away. After only a moment’s contemplation, he decides it won’t hurt to spend a minute or two trying to fix whatever fucked up knot he made while he was still dealing with the effects of being just woken up several minutes ago, veering away from his line of travel toward a car parked along the side of the street. Using the tinted window as a mirror, he tugs at the fabric in an attempt to undo it, although to no avail.

Then, the window rolls down.

“Hey, uh.” Concerned eyes lock with his. Kuroo short-circuits, his face turning a sickly colour as his mouth drops in horror, giving the illusion of a fish out of water. “Can I help you?”

Tapping along the rim of your steering wheel, you wait for a response. It isn’t that you’re annoyed or mad or anything along those lines; rather, you were almost flattered at first by the sight of a handsome yet serious-looking man speed-walking past your car before doubling back and staring at you through your window with what you misunderstood as passion in his eyes. But after watching him fidget with his tie for a solid minute, the realisation crashed onto you like tidal waves: he was in fact not nervously blown away by your copious amount of beauty, and now you’re more disappointed than anything.

“I’m so sorry,” Kuroo says with an apologetic smile, straightening from his previously hunched position over your window after realising how creepily close he is. A voice in the back of his mind tells him you have pretty eyes — and pretty hands, he notes a moment later as he steps back to put more distance between the two of you — but he pushes back both thoughts. “Really, I didn’t know you were there.”

“Were you planning to steal my car or something if I wasn’t inside?” You intend for this to be a light-hearted joke, but maybe your tone comes off too bland for him to get it, and now that enough time has passed for you to think about it, you’re not sure what you were trying to do with this ‘joke’ either. Nonetheless, you find amusement in the way his expression swiftly switches from aghast to frantic and even more in the transition of his face to a deeper shade of pink.

However, there’s a part of you that feels bad, so you eventually reassure him, “I’m joking. Would you like some help with your tie?”

Out of the benevolence of your heart, you decide to leave out the part where you mention how it looks like a three year old trying to tie their shoes for the very first time.

Kuroo looks grateful, relieved almost. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

“C’mere, then.”

You motion for him to come closer and reach your hands out the window. Kuroo takes a tentative step forth, though that’s not near close enough for you, so you extend your arm and gently tug on the tie, pulling him forward until your elbows are barely past the window. To make things a little easier, Kuroo spreads his knees slightly, creating a wide triangle with the ground and lowering himself so that he’s level with you. For a brief moment, your eyes drift to meet each other’s before immediately looking away. You focus on fixing his tie, and Kuroo acts interested in a crack in the ground all of sudden.

Even if he does look a bit odd standing like this, he supposes it’s worth the judgmental stares from passers-by once again because in only a matter of a minute, you somehow manage to untie the hideous knot. As you begin retying it, you make an attempt to start up conversation.

“Got something important today?”

“Just a job interview.”

You hum, mildly intrigued. “Where?”

He tells you the company and building, and you beam in recognition of the name.

“I work there! Today’s my day off,” you tell him. Once you’re done, you tug at the tie one last time before, without thinking, moving to brush the dust off his suit jacket with your hands. You freeze up as soon as you realise. (Whatever deity of embarrassment that exists up there must be having a field day with the two of you today.)

“Sorry. That was. Force of habit. I mean, I’ve never done that before— sorry, again. I really don’t know why I did that,” you say honestly. Maybe it’s a thing you’ve seen married couples do on television and subconsciously kept inside your brain like some kind of secret weapon to only be unleashed when you want to woo someone, but you think it’ll be more humiliating if you admit that.

Kuroo laughs. It’s a unique sound, and you find yourself liking it a lot, unable to keep yourself from returning a small smile at him. “It’s fine. We all have our moments.”

“What time’s your interview at?” you ask out of curiosity, leaning an arm out the window.

“Eight-thirty.”

The both of you stare at each other in silence for a couple of seconds.

You purse your lips. “Isn’t that…”

“Yeah.” He glances down the street, then back at you, and it looks like he doesn’t really want to leave yet. Even though he really should. Pulling out his phone from his pocket, he reads the time: 08:26. “I probably should get going.”

“Well, it was nice talking to you. Good luck with your interview,” you say, trying your best to not sound dismayed. Right before he leaves, however, something — perhaps the prospect of him not getting the job and you never getting to see him again — urges you to call out to him, “Wait.”

He turns back.

“I, um. Parked here ‘cause I was searching up directions to this café that opened up recently. If you’d like, after your interview, we could go get coffee together. You can tell me all about it if it goes well… or complain if it doesn’t.”

“Of course,” he says immediately. He can’t help but feel giddy inside, internally wanting to kick his feet, twirl his hair, and giggle and squeal like a pig all at once. If he was inside a building or a room, maybe he’d also be comically bouncing off the walls like in cartoons. Regardless of these overwhelming compulsions, he retains his composure, cooly adding, “I’d love that.”

“I’ll wait for you here, then,” you affirm with a smile. “See ya later…” Oh, right. You’ve yet to exchange names, but you suppose that can wait for now. “…stranger.”

Amused, he returns, “Later, stranger.”

As he walks away, a voice in the back of his mind makes note yet again of the fact that you have pretty eyes, pretty hands, and, just now, a pretty smile. Maybe, he thinks, he’ll tell you after the interview.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n #kuroo tetsuro x reader #229ZMI

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chipmunkfanno1love · 9 months

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Cliva Theories

I thought I’d write my personal thoughts on the Cliva ship and how I imagine it playing out if it possibly does head down the romantic path. I also want to give my comparison if they stick to the platonic route.

Thoughts on the ship generally:

When I learned that Viva was related to Poppy and later found out that she's actually her long-lost older sister, the thought of her falling in love with one of Branch's brothers sounded like such an adorable idea to me. Considering that she and Clay rule over the Putt Putt Trolls together, the pair already have an established relationship in the platonic and professional sense. The two seem to have a lot of respect for each other (which I'm sure Clay appreciates as he wasn't taken seriously by his brothers during his teen years) and seem to be the best of friends.

Viva appears to look up to Clay as her rock and confidant when it comes to her strongest fears and insecurities (something she struggled to open up with even Poppy). The fact that she’s been so open with him and trusts him with the responsibility of being her right hand man shows that Clay has proven himself as trustworthy and that he’s very important to Viva. She was obviously devastated by his betrayal in the movie, but doesn’t appear to hold a grudge due to her focus on freeing Clay from his diamond prison while Branch and Poppy were working on freeing Floyd. Obviously Clay is very important to her, not just as a right-hand man but also as a friend.

Despite trying too hard to be serious, Clay isn’t afraid to have fun and be silly around Viva, which shows he feels comfortable around her and she helps him embrace the fun side of himself while also acknowledging his desire to be taken seriously. Clay may also lean on Viva when it comes to handling his insecurities and frustrations (specifically regarding his issues with his brothers). I’m sure he appreciates someone as fun-loving and energetic as her taking over the responsibility of being “the fun one” and I’m sure he actually has fun with Viva due to not feeling the pressure of living up to his past boy band image. These two truly seem to empathise and understand each other as trolls.

I definitely believe that Clay and Viva have a shared love of dancing. Clay was obviously in charge of choreography for Brozone back in their youth, plus he’s famous for his Rusty Robot and later the Well-Oiled Robot dance moves. Viva is obviously a talented and enthusiastic dancer herself with lots of energy for crazy moves like flips and cartwheels. I personally would love to see more of these two dancing together, whether it be as two friends dancing together or possibly as a romantic dance fast and/or slow.

I think it's only natural that possible romantic sparks could grow between them as they re-adjust back into the lives of their long-lost family members and also accept that Bergans are no longer out to eat them. They obviously have a strong and special connection which they already built up even before they learned that their respective younger siblings are dating, so the possibility of them falling in love themselves does not seem that strange.

I have heard some people say that it's wrong and even incestuous for Branch's older brother and Poppy's older sister to start a romantic relationship because when Broppy gets married it will make them in-laws. While I do acknowledge for some people it may be weird for one romantic partner's brother to date and/or marry their romantic partner's sister I will say in the ship's defence that it is neither morally wrong nor incestuous for a husband/boyfriend's brother to date and/or marry his wife/girlfriend's sister. They are not related by blood or legal siblings themselves, so there are no reasons why they can't date or marry (with Poppy, Branch's and King Peppy's blessing). It's not that unusual for a couple's siblings to fall in love and eventually marry in real life and fiction (e.g. The Chipmunks and their Chipette counterparts in the Alvin and the Chipmunks franchise are some examples). Either way, let's try to respect each other's thoughts and opinions without judgement or harsh criticism.

I’m certainly open to this ship from a compatibility standpoint, but from a chemistry standpoint I think I’ll need a little more convincing as their limited interactions seemed more platonic in nature than romantic. I personally felt that Clay calling Viva “girl” sounded more like how a male would greet his female friend than how he would a potential lover. Although I have heard from some people’s translation of some non-English dubs of Trolls Band Together that Clay calls Viva “babe” which sounds slightly promising on the romantic side. Still you could easily say that was simply how the international production people personally translated the dub rather than it being the original writer's intention. Still, I’m certainly open-minded with this interpretation.

I definitely think like Branch, Viva will need some time to reconnect with her family and readjust to the outside world again, including learning to overcome her fear of the Bergans and coping with her trauma and abandonment issues. While well-meaning in her desire to protect her sister and fellow Putt Putt Trolls, I found her holding Poppy and to an extent the other Trolls hostage in order to “keep them safe” to be quite frightening and unhealthy. I only hope that to some extent Clay stayed with Viva out of genuine loyalty and care for her and not because he was basically held hostage by her. It would not be healthy for them to build any type of relationship out of fear and possessiveness.

Just like Poppy and Viva are adjusting to their newfound sisterly relationship, I think both Clay and Viva would also need to make some adjustments in their relationship as it changes with them being back with their families and learning to trust the Bergans. I’m curious how they’ll lead the Putt Putt Trolls now, whether they return to Pop Trolls Village or continue to run the Putt Putt Village together as they always have, but this time make it more welcoming and friendly to Bergans and give themselves and the Putt Putt Trolls more freedom to explore outside their home. I believe it will not only be good for Viva’s mental health, but will also help their own relationship to grow as Viva learns to be less codependent and becomes a little more interdependent with Clay. Plus, I trust that Viva doesn’t hold any hard feelings against Clay for his betrayal, knowing that he was only trying to save his brother. I’m sure she can empathise and understand him on that over knowing the pain of losing and parting ways with family.

Here are two plausible directions I could see the ship taking:

Romance option

Perhaps over time, Clay and Viva begin to notice that their relationship has grown and changed as they've settled back with their families. They start to realise that their feelings for each other may be more than platonic and their partnership may be based on more than a purely professional connection. I imagine that they both may struggle to open up about their feelings for each other at first. Clay's brothers (namely John Dory) may tease him over his crush on Viva but are overall supportive of the relationship.

Clay’s brother’s teasing him over having feelings for Viva (new lower quality video). I imagine Chandler as Clay, Rachel as Bruce, Phoebe as Branch, Ross as Floyd, Monica as John Dory and maybe Gunther as King Peppy:

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Branch in particular empathises with Clay's struggle with getting out of the friend zone and being in love with an overly energetic royal. He and Bruce may offer Clay courting and dating advice as they are currently the only two brothers to be in happily committed romantic relationships.

Poppy is incredibly supportive of Clay and Viva becoming a couple and even offers to help them get together. She gets excited at the possibility of the pair going on double dates with her and Branch. Despite some hurdles along the way, the two eventually get the courage to confess their feelings for each other and eventually become a couple.

Before that happens, I could see a little ship teasing happening between them in this form. Perhaps Poppy and Branch have just gotten engaged or maybe it’s their wedding day and the two can’t help but get into a touching yet very awkward discussion similar to that of Ross and Rachel from Friends as they watch the happy young couple.

Viva and Clay ship tease example (0:05 to 0:34) (*Warning*: Sexually suggestive adult content)

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I could see the conversation playing out like this:

Viva: “Look at them, they make such a Fantastamazing couple, don’t they!”

Clay: “My baby brother and your little sister are in love and getting married. I never would have believed it.”

Viva: “Yeah, kind of ironic…what with you being my right-hand man and all. I guess it shows they were really meant to be.”

Clay: (chuckles a little) “Yeah, it is a pretty big coincidence, huh?”

After a few moments of silence, Viva finally speaks up again.

Viva: “Hey, Clay?”

Clay: “Yeah, Veevs?”

Viva: “Do you ever think…we’ll have what they have?”

Clay: (becomes noticeably nervous but yet also hopeful) “Uh, we, as in…”you, me, us: together”

Viva: “Oh nonono, not us (gesturing between the two of them) together (laughs nervously). I mean like, you with someone and me with someone.

Clay: “Oh, whew. (fakes wiping his brow) You kinda scared me there.”

Viva: “No probs, Clay. Just shake it off!”

Clay: “Right, shake it off.” (Clay shakes himself rapidly like a dog and Viva lets out a little laugh to which Clay follows after her)

Viva: “You make me laugh.”

Clay: “Hey, I’m the former Fun Guy of Brozone and your current right-hand man. It’s what I do.”

Viva: (chuckles, though she’s still smiling it looks somewhat strained) “Yeah…i-it would make things kinda weird if we became a couple wouldn’t it?”

Clay: (smiling but his eyes look visibly saddened) “Y-yeah, real weird.”

The two share a heartfelt but very awkward moment, hinting that maybe the idea of them being a couple isn’t so weird to them. They may even be visibly disappointed at the thought of the other thinking it’s weird.

In terms of romance comparison to other fictional characters' relationships I would imagine a romantic relationship developing in a similar fashion to these character’s relationships:

Melman and Gloria:

Perhaps like Melman, maybe either Clay or Viva have had feelings for their friend for a long time but have always been too shy to admit their feelings, while like Gloria the other expresses interest in dating, completely oblivious that their friend is in love with them. Maybe it’s only when one of them starts dating someone else who later turns out to be wrong for them (not that they have to be a bad person) do they start to realise the strong extent of their feelings and they get the boldness to finally confess. Overall, in the end the oblivious friend soon realises that their best friend is actually the one for them and the two eventually become a couple.

Melman and Gloria moments:

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Melma and Gloria love confession:

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Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable:

Viva and Clay share a lot of similarities to Kim and Ron in that they aren’t just best friends (Kim and Ron have been friends since Pre-K, while we’ve yet to learn what age Viva and Clay were when they first met) but are also professional partners, e.g. Ron Stoppable is Kim Possible’s crime-fighting sidekick while Clay is Viva’s right-hand man in the leadership of the Putt Putt Trolls.

Kim and Ron as a couple:

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Unlike Melman and Gloria in which one was simply too shy to confess their feelings and the other is oblivious to their friends feelings for them, it’s hinted a lot throughout the Kim Possible series that Kim and Ron share mutual feelings for each other but neither of them confess out of fear ruining their friendship. It was certainly confirmed to be the case from Ron’s side of things, while it’s merely hinted at from Kim’s side.

Proof that Kim and Ron had feelings for each other:

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I could see either Clay or Viva being reluctant to admit their feelings for each other out of fear of their friendship being ruined as a result of their feelings being unrequited or their relationship doesn’t work out and they break up. I could see this storyline working well as their excuse in future Trolls shorts and/or films.

There’s a possibility that they may have even not confessed their feelings due to it interrupting their professional relationship, e.g. Clay was too focused on being taken seriously in his job as Viva’s right-hand man while Viva let her fear of the Bergans returning stop her from considering a romantic relationship with Clay, possibly out of fear of losing him too or she was too focused on her job as leader to consider what her feelings for Clay truly were.

With time for them both to reconnect with their families and time to readjust to the real world again, perhaps they both consider the possibility of romance in their lives, which possibly opens them up to dating other trolls but realising that they don’t have the same connection with their dates as they have with each other, leading to them realising that their feelings for each other may be more than platonic.

Chandler and Monica:

Perhaps they may go down a similar route as Chandler and Monica from Friends where perhaps they begin a relationship off-screen and try their best to hide it from their siblings, either because they don’t feel ready to tell their family and/or they’re worried about how they will react to them being a couple. Though when they finally do confess their relationship, I’m sure their whole family is very supportive of the two as a couple.

Monica and Chandler Love Story (*Warning* - Contains sexually suggestive adult content and possibly triggering fat jokes)

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One thing all these couples have in common is that they were all friends first before eventually becoming a couple. The female character is generally depicted as a bold and beautiful woman (seemingly out of the guy’s league) who while she’s generally strong and independent does occasionally struggle with insecurities (with maybe the exception of Gloria perhaps), while the male character is generally depicted as more comical and goofy but overall very supportive of their female friend and vise-versa. Perhaps they date other trolls or other creatures, but ultimately realise that they’re each other’s true love.

As we all picked up, they are quite similar to Branch and Poppy’s dynamic as well, only their roles are reversed somewhat with Viva being the more emotionally traumatised one and Clay being the more stable one who is there to emotionally support his friend/lover. Though Viva still has Poppy’s energy and enthusiasm while Clay is a little more cynical and organised like Branch.

If they do become a couple like Poppy and Branch I could see it happening in a slow burn manner with little romantic hints here and there. Though hopefully there are enough differences in their pairing that they don’t play out exactly like their younger siblings do and therefore their own relationship is still its own.

Platonic option

Of course, there's also the possibility that these two may just remain really good friends and later close in-laws when Branch and Poppy eventually get married. They may even support the other in their romantic relationships with other trolls/creatures.

In terms of other fictional friendships and professional partnerships I can definitely see similarities between Princess Fiona and Brogan’s shared leadership of the Ogre Resistance in Shrek Forever After to Viva and Clay’s shared leadership of the Putt Putt Trolls.

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They may also have similarities in their relationship to General Amaya and Commander Gren from The Dragon Prince series who have a very close friendship as well as a professional partnership much like Viva and Clay themselves. I feel if either one or both of them eventually fall in love with someone else I could see either of them supporting their friend’s romance as Gren supports Amaya’s relationship with Queen Jenai. Perhaps if Clay is one to fall in love with someone else (such as perhaps a girl from his Sad Book Club) maybe Viva would feel a little jealous at the thought of losing her best friend and confidant, but only when Clay reassures her that he’ll always be there for her as a friend does she eventually accept his new relationship and gives the couple her blessing.

Whichever direction Cliva goes, whether it remains platonic or heads in a more romantic direction, I am keen to see more of these two interacting with each other and seeing how they met and became partners in leadership. I hope their relationship grows with the changes to their situation and environment and continues to flourish.

I'm just glad that Broppy has become canon as their romantic chemistry was so obvious and I'm just grateful that the ship has sailed nicely. Whatever happens with their older siblings is up for debate.

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