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taeilskitty · 3 years ago

Note

Hey there! I saw that you open for a request so here's what I thought : what kind of sound did nct make when having sex? Are they more into whimpers, groans, or maybe dirty talk? Thank you so much for answering my question and hope you have a good day!

i was BORN to answer this omg. lemme tell you, i have thought about this so SO much!! (i'm leaving chenji out of this bc i don't know how people feel about that yet)

anyways, i hope u enjoy and i hope this matches what you had in mind <3

taeil

oh fuck. taeil is most certainly a groaner. i think (and trust me, i've thought a lot) he must make these gorgeous low moans like right in the back of his throat if that makes sense - have you ever heard his bubble voice messages? oh my god, they're so fucking hot. his raspy voice in the middle of the night is just to die for. that makes me CONVINCED that he dirty talks super up close. even thinking about it makes me shiver :(( he's the king of praise, i just know it. i think he degrades too, but his favourite is when he mixes both together - "you look so pathetic there baby, how cute." "daddy loves his pretty slut so much." "god you're so fucking good for me, my cockslut~" taeil also asks things, i think that suits him so much. "yeah? you like that?" "is daddy's cock too big baby? shh, i'll be done soon..."

taeyong

whiner. whiner. undoubtedly. this boy has the sweetest, prettiest little moans... he gets all high pitched when he's close and oh god when he sinks into subspace he just mewls and his voice gets so weak </3 little "yes" and "a-ah thank you"s slip out because he such a good kitten. he's so precious... and if he gets asked to speak while he's getting fucked he just squeaks out an answer. "m.. love it... ah..." n he will never fail to say his please and thank yous - he's so well mannered even when hes getting used !!!

johnny

this is just. oh my. i think he's silent for the most part. heavy breathing and quiet grunts and groans until he's close. THAT'S when he starts moaning, all sorts of things slipping out. "god you're so good" "i love this hole so much" ahh??! i think he talks down too. fuck !!! daddy!johnny is so patronising, and not just outside of the bedroom. kinda like taeil, he asks things, but he makes u feel so dumb and cock drunk :( AH AND he like... coos when you feel all dazed from his cock... "awh~ is that good? you like that don't you sweetheart? yeah, i know."

yuta

i have this vision of yuta just SLAMMING from behind with his face right up in your ear, telling you all sorts of dirty things lowly with just the hottest voice ever. he's very vocal about what he wants, and he loves cumming inside... so expect him to talk about that. oh, he is so fucking possessive too. "hmm. mine. this is mine. you're mine." he probably bites your ear/neck when he says it... the grunts that come out when he slams are enough to send anyone reeling, but i bet he tells you "fuck. gonna. gonna cum in my fuckdoll--" n his voice just trails off as he fills you up and sighs<33

kun

now kun is !! an interesting one !! ... i envision him as a pretty hard dom, so i don't think he's any stranger to degrading. that being said, i think he's more talkative when he's giving punishments (e.g. spanking over his thigh... heaven<33) rather than when he's fucking. i think he moans lowly, semi-quietly but as he gets more and more pent up he gets louder. (i think this is the case for most of the nct doms but oh well) he'll praise how good you make him feel - assuming you've been behaved enough - but that doesn't stop him from cursing under his breath at every chance he gets ,,..

doyoung

definitely has pretty moans !! he probably does whine, but i mean that in a dom way - if that makes sense? higher pitched moans but not pathetic, in fact it's probably paired with him whispering "fuck yes, good [insert ur fave petname here]". i think he's the type to kiss you a lot during sex and like... moan into your mouth; any space not taken up by the sound of moans will for sure be filled with the sound of his panting and his tongue dancing with yours.

ten

another semi-whiner. i always saw him as a dom but i'm sliiightly succumbing to the idea that he may be a switch... which is why i think there's so much BEAUTY in his moans?? ten makes really pretty, breathy whines and moans i'm sure, i don't particularly think he talks a crazy amount but rather short instructions. (yes i'm going back to dom!ten) "turn around." "get on your knees" "quiet." AH !! he always lets you know what he needs - however, sub!ten will just whine and squirm till you make him cum because he is most definitely a slut who takes anything:(

jaehyun

first of all, this man wrecks me to the fucking core, and i could talk about this for... a while. but his moans are definitely like, raspy high-pitched type. think about his vocals. esp in try again... i bet you they sound like THAT. i'm sure he talks a bit too, tbh he probably says rather textbook dirty things but it sounds so fucking hot when it's him. "yeah take it, take my cock" "fuck yes just like that", he loves how you whine when he moans right up next to you btw - it just makes him do it even more. oh, and bonus - he will never call you ANYTHING without prefixing it with my or daddy's. daddy's girl, daddy's boy, daddy's pet, my dirty slut... ahh<3

winwin

it's almost contrasting to jaehyun but sicheng's voice is so low. i can't explain this in any way other than that he's kitty, but his moans are so... puppy? and when he's fucked, he makes himself sound so dumb too. he's constantly slurring his words and biting his lip because he's trying to keep quiet but anyone who walks by the room will hear "mm.. m!!" because he just can't help himself :( when he's close he probably squeaks like taeyong and cums all over the place GOD i want him

jungwoo

oh god there's no doubt that jungwoo talks SO much during sex. he probably loses his fucking mind with how good he feels. he's such a good boy but sometimes you just need him to shut up - but he can't. he squeaks out a little moan when you push into him, or when you start touching his cock, but withn minutes he's babbling non-stop; "oh god oh god mommy/daddy i love it so much, a-ah like that, please~"

lucas

my brain used to be convinced that xuxi was a dom, but i'm now sure he's a switch. either way, his moans are pretty much the same. they're very heavy and... i guess manly is the best way to put it. in my head i can literally picture him being like "ughhh..." when you start fucking because he just feels like he's wanted to fuck you so desperately - yes, even if you fucked hours before. it's always so breathy and moany and i think he sounds like a bit of a fuckboy tbh... "fuck yeah" as he slides his cock into you? THANKS

mark

loud baby loud baby LOUD BABY:((( no matter how much you cover that pretty mouth of his he will be so LOUD!! he can't stop talking and whining and panting, kinda like jungwoo but honestly... more. he swears a lot too. he tries not to but he just can't help himself :( "aw shit... god shit!!!" under his breath UGHHFDGGDFDD SO FUCKING CUTE IM GONNA SCREAM !!! he's very polite though, so he always says sorry every single time :( he babbles like hell when he cums, he can't stop himself, again like jungwoo. "i'm gonna cum i'mgonnacumi- i'm -- ah fuck, shit--!!"

xiaojun

two words. action figure. everyone knew that was coming, HA - i'm sorry but THAT verse means we all know how he sounds. i think he tries his best to talk normally while you edge him but his little voice keeps on wavering and cracking and just... he can't help but sound all pretty and pathetic :( but surely dejun has some (very frequent) moments where he can't keep his front anymore and just whines like a whore because it feels so good<3

hendery

the things i'd let this man do to me:))) i think at first he'd actually try and hide his moans because he feels like that's what he's supposed to do, but no. for me personally, i know i would NOT LET THAT HAPPEN !! he probably sucks the air in through his teeth in an attempt to hide it - it's very fucking sexy when he does that, granted - but he can't keep doing that for long. i think he hums and laughs when he can't keep it in any longer because he almost feels some kinda defeat but then he just moans semi-loudly and lets out a "good girl/boy/baby... let me fuck you, huh?"

renjun

renjun scares the fuck out of me. why? because his moans are fairly quiet. he's master and it S H O W S. he grunts quietly, maybe muttering things under his breath like "so fucking tight" "mmh there you go..." to fill some silence but he does it subconsciously; he goes so far into domspace sometimes that he just can't control himself. when he's close he talks through his teeth and he's like "i'm. i'm gonna cum baby..."and the more you whine on his cock the more he just laughs at you because he's a sadist hhhhhhhhhhh.........

jeno

most definitely a fun one... you see when he's sub, he pants and whines and drools all over himself like a big dumb puppy boy and he just breathes so heavy n his moans are all shaky... if he's a brat he will try and talk big but he can't take it, he just gets so pathetic and !!! but dom jeno is fucking TERRIFYING because he talks down and tries his best to intimidate you. he chuckles and degrades you, but one of his faves is when he can big himself up under his breath. "look at you now. you love this fucking cock."

haechan

this isn't good for my mental health :) i fucking cannot TAKE this brat :) AHA! hyuckie is honestly such a whore, he's bratty and rude and always talks back at you like he's the king of the fucking world. he's constantly laughing at you and trying so hard to make you feel like you're not worthy but he feels so good he just gets fucked dumb by you :( he is SO loud too. he wants everyone to hear what a dirty whore he is and he makes sure he puts on his prettiest pornstar moans. he whines like his life depends on it. on the off chance that he's being a good boy, he begs and cries and whimpers when he finally cums - and i mean CRIES. sobs. he'll be heaving by the time you're done with him, but god he fucking loves it.

jaemin

fuck... fuck okay... well firstly he loves to talk. we all know how much he praises and how he's constantly showing his love off... that doesn't stop at fanservice, nope. he will fuck you like a ragdoll and keep calm and composed as ever, talking down to you as if you're in his lap for a soft cuddle. "baby loves nana so much hm~?" "oh you really love that don't you?" "you know you're so pretty. nana wants to cum in you so bad~" yes, he calls himself nana because he's a cocky fuck and loves how it sounds. especially when you're moaning it for him.

yangyang

i'm kinda in 2 minds about this... on the one hand, he's kinda like hyuckie in that he whines a LOT. but he can actually keep his composure - he's a breathy whiner, he's not quite as loud and he most certainy doesn't crumble as easily. (that's not to say that he can't, he most definitely can.) on the other hand i think when he's in a more neutral headspace rather than subby, he talks to you like a total fuckboy. not in a mean way but he's just like "hah. i know you love me fucking you like this." he gets so cocky and he sucks hickeys into your neck and hums quietly<3

shotaro

he's such a shy baby :( he wants to moan so much but he probably gets all self conscious and tries to hide it... so you gotta make him feel safe :( when he does he whimpers and it's so pretty and pathetic. the way he wells up with tears and hitches his breath is. adorable. he whispers "thank you... ah..." every time he feels that good and by the time he cums it's just falling from him like a waterfall :( the more comfortable he feels, though, the sluttier he can get... he will always be a good boy but i think he lets his whore side come out every once in a while <3

sungchan

last but most certainly not least, yet ANOTHER boy who pains me to the core. i think sungchan whimpers too. THERE I SAID IT. his cock is too big for his own good so he just... needs you to do SOMETHING to him :( he always sighs at first, maybe hissing just a little but then he gets to a point where he's quietly whimpering because he just needs to cum so fucking bad <//3 "need it... p-please..." he's always nervous to use titles but if he wants to cum he has no choice :( when his dom asks please who? he blushes bright red n mumbles a little "please mommy/daddy... 'm so good..." and god yes he is he deserves it so much ugh<33333333333333

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grapesodatozier · 3 years ago

Text

so close to the real thing (closer than you think)

rating: explicit

word count: 6.8k

summary: Eddie's been pining over Richie for as long as he can remember. He loves everything about Richie; especially how much Richie loves touching him. It's a little inconvenient, though. Eddie copes with his pent up sexual tension by constantly checking a porn blog he's obsessed with on tumblr. This guy has the same type of body as Richie, he talks like Richie, his name is even Richie! It makes it all too easy for Eddie to pretend it really is Richie while getting himself off to all of the blog's content.

You'll never guess what he finds out when he starts sexting this stranger named Richie from his anonymous porn blog.

tags: friends to lovers, porn with feelings, love confessions, dom/sub dynamics, bi dom top richie, gay sub bottom eddie, the most oblivious pining idiots in the world lol we love them

notes: this is one of my more ridiculous ideas but I had so much fun with it lol. also as a note you probably should not approach people on the internet the way they do in this fic, but they're just v enthusiastic and everything here is v consensual!! still tho definitely don't take this indulgent fic as a guide on how to approach real people online lmao. okay have fun!!

read on ao3 or below!!

notsfw under the cut

Eddie Kaspbrak’s friends were his entire world; time spent with them meant everything to him. But he also really valued his alone time. He’d always been the sort who needed time to just sit on a grassy hill and watch the trains go by, to catch up on comics in his room, to get lost in Netflix shows or even just his thoughts as he moseyed around his apartment—one he live in by himself, for when these moods hit. He needed time to himself to unwind. And sometimes he unwound by scrolling through some porn blogs on tumblr with his hand in his pants.

There was one blog that he was particularly fond of. There were other blogs more catered to his personal interests, namely blogs that didn’t feature women like this one did. But there was a good balance of genders represented, so Eddie figured he could just scroll past those posts. This guy was worth it. His pictures were ridiculously hot, and his dirty talk was even hotter.

Also, his name was Richie. Which Eddie refused to acknowledge as part of the draw.

It was harder to ignore tonight. He’d been out with the losers, and Richie had just been so touchy. And there was something about the way he'd been talking; his voice was lower than normal, slower in a way that made Eddie’s stomach flip. And his touches had lingered, his hand squeezing Eddie’s hip slow, then lazily brushing against his ass as he dropped it. Eddie could hardly take it. He brushed it off as Richie just being tired from work, but god, Eddie wanted it to mean more. The hardest part was hiding how much he wanted Richie to keep doing it.

There were so many things Eddie wanted Richie to do to him. He wanted Richie to touch him harder, to grab him by his hips with both hands. Richie’s hands were so big; Eddie just knew Richie could manhandle him so easily, so roughly. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have Richie’s hands all over him, grabbing at his ass and his thighs, holding his wrists down, making him feel so small. While Eddie would never admit it, huffing at every short joke Richie made, but he loved being shorter than Richie. He loved how safe he felt when Richie held him. And he was dying to know how small he would feel with Richie looming above him, or sitting in Richie’s lap, bouncing on his cock. He wanted to hear Richie talking to him in that low, slow voice, with that condescension Eddie did his best to pretend not to be affected by. He wanted Richie to whisper in his ear and call him all those pretty names he always dropped so casually, all those sweet ones and also ones that were a lot meaner. He wanted Richie to want him.

But it was easier to think about it than to ask for it. He knew Richie had way more experience than him. Well, okay, maybe not way more necessarily, but they were starting their third year of college, and he hadn’t wasted any time. Eddie, on the other hand, hadn’t done anything more than hand stuff with someone else. The guys he’d hooked up with were nice enough, and hot enough, but they just… weren’t Richie.

He supposed this guy on tumblr wasn’t Richie either, but at least he was everything else Eddie wanted. None of his hookups had been so, well, dominant, and that was this guy’s whole thing. He was dominant and a top and into guys that looked like Eddie. He even kind of talked like Richie, and he was apparently pining over his best friend, just like Eddie was. It had him completely smitten. Plus, internet-Richie’s crush had brown eyes like Eddie, and he ran track, just like Eddie did. Internet-Richie had posted once about his dick getting hard watching his friend at his track meet, and Eddie had come so hard that night, his track shorts around his ankles, imagining his Richie thinking those things about him.

Eddie was in bed now, in nothing but his boxers and one of Richie’s old shirts that had been Eddie’s for a while now. Still reeling from the way Richie had been acting that night, he logged into his porn account on his phone and scrolled through his dash for a grand total of thirty seconds before going immediately to internet-Richie’s blog. A thrill went through Eddie’s body when he saw that he had just posted. He’d written, “god my friends gonna fuckn kill me with that ass, i wanna plow him so bad” then reblogged it and added, “reminder that my asks and dms are always open if any pretty needy little subs need help getting off. please come be sluts in my messages.” Eddie’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that there was a picture, too, one of him gripping his hard cock, his boxers pulled down just enough for Eddie to see the dark hair around the base of his cock. Eddie moaned at the sight. His cock was so nice, so long and thick and pink. And fuck, his fingers. They were so long and slim, almost as nice as his-Richie’s.

Eddie scrolled a little farther down, his heart racing. There were a lot of reblogs, but some original posts here and there, things like, “what i wouldn’t do to have a pretty guy drooling all over my cock rn,” and, “in the mood to get someone dick drunk. wanna fuck a someone so hard they forget their own name.” One that made Eddie nearly choke said, “want someone i can pump my come into whenever i want, over and over again. want a sub i can keep full of my come all the fuckn time.” That post had Eddie getting out his lube.

It also had him thinking about internet-Richie’s most recent post, his post about his DMs being open.

Eddie bit his lip and thought about it. He’d sent internet-Richie some asks before from his porn blog (his blog didn’t have his name on it, just the teddy bear emoji, since he privately thought the teddy/Eddie rhyme was fun and clever, and also it was cute), and he’d seemed plenty happy enough to respond then. Still, it felt like a much bigger step to DM him, to talk to him just one on one. But the more he read his posts, the more he thought about his-Richie and how he’d touched Eddie that night, the easier it was to convince himself to shoot his shot with this stranger.

Eddie just messaged him a simple, “hi,” with a heart emoji. It was innocent enough, but his heart was still racing.

Internet-Richie responded a lot faster than Eddie was expecting. Honestly he hadn’t been expecting a response at all. But he said:

hiya cutie (; ive been hoping youd message me

Eddie flushed. He couldn’t help but hear cutie in his-Richie’s voice—especially given how often Richie used the nickname. really? he typed back.

fuck yes, ur cute little messages make me so hard. i can tell ur a pretty little thing just from the way you type

Eddie was blushing deep. Pretty little thing. That was hotter than it should’ve been. He wanted his Richie to talk to him like that, in that deep, sleepy voice.

there’s no way you can tell that from some messages :P, Eddie sent.

His heart stopped at the next messages internet-Richie sent.

oh, u dont think so?

why dont u send me some pics to prove me wrong (;

Oh my god, Eddie thought, his breath coming short. His head swam at the thought of sending this guy nudes, of showing himself off to someone who clearly wanted to see him, who would know how to take care of him and fuck him the way he liked, a guy with his crush’s fucking name and body type and hands. It had Eddie’s cock hard and leaking, and he slowly slid a finger inside of himself.

But just because the thought turned him on didn’t mean he was gonna send this stranger what he wanted so easily, even if he desperately wanted to.

you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

He fingered himself open as he waited for a response, working his way up to two fingers. It was nearly impossible to ignore his cock, but he didn’t want to come before the conversation even had a chance to start.

fuck ya i would, internet-Richie responded. Then, in a second message, whats wrong baby? you shy? ill show u mine ;)

Eddie's breath caught. God, this guy even made stupid shit sound hot, just like Eddie’s Richie. This was unreal.

i’ve seen yours, Eddie pointed out.

ya and you musta liked it if ur messaging me rn

Eddie bit his lip. ...maybe

aw thats cute sweetheart. u know i can see all the needy little tags you add when u reblog my stuff right?

Eddie blushed. He’d kind of always hoped he’d read them, but he never thought he actually did. i didn’t know you read those

oh ya, read them, jerk off to them. bit of a size queen, aren’t you? ;) it’s cute. makes me so fuckn hard when u talk abt how u want me to fill you up

Eddie whimpered out loud, sliding a third finger into himself. Fuck, he wanted that cock inside of him so bad. But right now one of his toys would have to do, once he was stretched out enough. He sped up his fingers, getting impatient. Gathering up all of his horny courage, he sent, show me.

what, no please? only good boys who use their manners get dick pics babydoll

Eddie pouted and whined to himself, making quick work of sliding his hot pink vibrator inside of himself—well, as quickly as he could without hurting himself. He moaned as it filled him up, making pleasure spread deep through his body. Slowly pumping it in and out, he reached for his phone. please, he typed, please let me see? wanna know what to picture while i fuck myself with my vibrator. He even added the wide eyed pouting emoji to really milk the whole begging thing. He knew he’d been playing a little coy, but now with the way internet-Richie was talking to him he was getting desperate.

well fuck baby since ur begging ;)

Eddie held his breath as he waited for the picture, slowly rocking his toy in and out, savoring the feeling. He wished it was Richie doing it, wished it was his cock. The lines between which Richie blurred; he wanted to get fucked by either of them, both of them.

What Eddie received when his phone lit up was not a picture, but a video. It was short, just a few seconds of Richie’s hand dragging wetly, smoothly over his cock, but it had Eddie drooling. The room was dark, so he’d used a flash, and it made the mix of what Eddie assumed was precome and spit glisten as the swollen head of Richie’s cock disappeared and reappeared from behind his fingers. Eddie must’ve played it at least five times, fucking himself a little faster, before remembering to say something back. And to take a video of his own. fuck, I want you so bad, want you to fucking ruin me, he wrote back. A part of him couldn’t believe how openly desperate he was being, but he found that he liked it; he liked the way it made him blush, he liked the way it felt to beg, to ask for what he wanted.

Richie’s response came fast: show me kitten. show me how you want me to fuck your pretty little ass.

Eddie moaned at the pet name; casual little nicknames were such a weakness for him. He was already so far gone, just picturing Richie’s cock inside of him, picturing him stroking his cock to thoughts of Eddie. The attention had his cock hard and leaking as he thrust his vibrator even deeper inside of himself, pumping it in and out a few more times before rolling over and getting on his hands and knees. It was hard to take a video from this angle, but he wanted to show off his ass and hide his face. Plus, there was something so hot about having his ass in the air and his face shoved in his pillow, looking like the perfect image of someone desperate to be fucked. He loved the way it made him feel, loved the thought of being so open for someone. For Richie.

He ended up shooting a short video as well, about ten seconds of him sliding his vibrator slowly in and out of himself, letting out soft little moans. He was pretty pleased with the way it turned out, his hole pink and smooth and wet as it stretched around his toy. The angle was a little weird, showing a lot of his room once or twice when his hand slipped a little, but overall he thought his ass looked amazing, if he did say so himself. He sent it and said, feels so good. do you want me to go faster?

As he sent it, he got settled on his back, forcing himself to go slow as he fucked himself while he waited for internet-Richie’s response. It was taking longer than before, and Eddie was getting antsy; it was so hard to drag it out, to not get ahead of himself. But whatever Richie was doing, Eddie knew it would be worth the wait. Still, he pouted as his cock ached, begging for attention.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at the door.

He groaned to himself and stayed put, fucking himself even slower as he waited for whoever it was to leave. But then the knocking continued, loud and incessant and obnoxious, and Eddie knew exactly who it was. He also knew he wasn’t going to go away any time soon, which honestly made him smile and blush. Richie had terrible timing, but Eddie would never be upset to see him.

Reluctantly, he slowly slid the toy out and pulled on his shorts, leaving his shirt off. He still had a pretty obvious boner, but his horny brain did not mind the idea of Richie seeing it. So he strode lazily down the hall, shouting a performatively annoyed, “I’m coming!” Finally, he opened the door, cocking his hip to the side and giving Richie an expectant look. “Can I help you?” he asked, a small smile dancing around the corner of his lips. He had to fight off a smirk at the wide eyed look Richie gave him as he ran his eyes over Eddie’s body.

“Fuck,” he muttered lowly, his eyes trained on Eddie’s cock, which was getting even harder the more Richie stared. Eddie bit his lip and grinned a little, making doe eyes at Richie. But Richie didn’t meet his gaze—instead he brushed past Eddie, his mouth still hanging open as he made his way urgently toward Eddie’s bedroom.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, a little let down that Richie’s hands weren’t all over him right now. But hey, if he was heading to Eddie’s bedroom he figured that was at least the right direction. He closed his front door and followed Richie into his room, where he found him staring at the bright pink vibrator on the bed. As confident and horny as Eddie was feeling, that still made him blush. He was only human. Crossing his arms, he said, bashful now, “I was kind of in the middle of something.”

Richie looked over at him, his cheeks bright red under his freckles. Then he got a glimmer of that trademark shit-eating grin on his face. “Eds, you fucking slut,” he said, sounding both delighted and breathless. “You are so fucking hot.”

Eddie flushed and tried not to squirm, but he couldn’t help but press his legs together, his eyes brightening. Fuck, was this actually happening? Shit, he needed to think of something witty to say. “You gonna do anything about it?” Okay, that kinda sounded like a corny porn, but he had to give himself credit for even being able to form words just after his lifelong crush and personal wet dream had just admitted his attraction to him.

“I think I already have been,” Richie said, still grinning.

Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh yeah? How do you figure that?”

Eddie was expecting a confession. He was expecting something along the lines of you think I don’t notice how you look at me? or did you really think those were casual touches earlier? What he was not expecting was for Richie to unlock his phone and hold it up, showing Eddie the video he had just taken, the video he’d sent to internet-Richie.

Oh. Oh. Oh fuck.

“Oh my god, that’s you?” Eddie cried in disbelief.

“You’re telling me you didn’t recognize this dick?” Richie asked, swaggering over to Eddie, clearly enjoying himself.

“How did you recognize it was me?”

Richie nodded toward the Thundercats poster on Eddie’s wall, then to the model train that sat on his dresser. “What other guy has decor like that and the ass to match?”

Eddie grinned and shook his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well pardon me for not being especially eloquent when I’ve just learned that the guy I’ve been masturbating to since I learned how to and been in love with for even longer has been masturbating to me too.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, all thoughts of getting fucked leaving for a moment. “You’re in love with me?” he asked, his voice as soft as his smile.

Richie was not a bashful person, but the little laugh he let out just then was close to it. “Have been my whole life, but thanks for finally noticing.”

Eddie shook his head and stepped closer, until he had to crane his head up to meet Richie’s gaze. “I love you too.”

Richie’s eyes widened behind his thick frames. Eddie had only seen that look in Richie’s eyes a few times before, but he never wanted to lose sight of it again. He always wanted Richie to look at him like that. But then Richie was closing his eyes and leaning down. It only took Eddie a second to get with the program, drinking in the moment just a little longer before letting his own eyes fall shut as he pressed his lips against Richie’s.

It started gentle enough, if deep and passionate and intentional. But then Richie’s hands were on Eddie’s bare waist, skin against skin, and Eddie was gasping into Richie’s mouth, his hands coming up and resting against Richie’s chest. He curled his fingers into Richie’s shirt as Richie ran his tongue over Eddie’s lips, just before pulling away. He laughed at Eddie’s indignant little whine.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want me to take off my shirt right now?” he smirked as Eddie tried to pull him closer by the offending fabric. Huffing, Eddie conceded and let go long enough to let Richie pull the shirt off over his head.

“Oh,” he said softly, his voice a little, awed moan as he drank in Richie’s chest. It wasn’t like Richie had never been shirtless in front of Eddie before, but Eddie had never felt like he was allowed to really look at Richie all those times. But now he could; now he could touch. And he did, running his fingers over Richie’s smooth, warm skin, over his acne scars and blackheads and freckles. “Fuck, Richie,” he sighed before pressing his lips to Richie’s collarbones, trailing them all over Richie’s beautiful chest.

Richie gave a breathless, almost shy laugh as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “Damn, Eds, never pegged you as a tits guy.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled, bringing his lips back to Richie’s. They both smiled into it, getting lost for a moment as Richie’s hands slid slowly down Eddie’s sides. His hands lingered on Eddie’s hips for a moment before he slid them further down and grabbed at Eddie’s ass, making him gasp.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who’s about to rail you ‘til you can’t walk?”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Eddie asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Spank me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Richie smirked. He gave Eddie’s ass a playful smack, making Eddie gasp again and fall into him, needing more. Richie’s voice was dripping with adoration as he purred, “Little brat,” and pulled Eddie against him, kissing him again. Eddie went with it easily and happily parted his lips to let Richie lick into his mouth. Richie had one hand gripping Eddie’s jaw and the other on his ass, touching him in a way that exuded a command Eddie was desperate to follow. God, Eddie knew Richie had big hands, but they felt huge on him like this. It was dizzyingly hot. And the way Richie’s tongue was teasing his had Eddie’s knees going weak. His dick was throbbing in his shorts, aching to finish what he’d started, what had been interrupted. When he thought about it all—about playing with himself for Richie, about the video Richie had sent him, about all those things Richie had said about filling Eddie up—he felt himself clench down on nothing, desperate to get fucked. Desperate to feel Richie’s cock so deep inside of him.

“Richie,” he whined into the kiss, pulling on Richie’s belt loops, “please.” He pressed himself urgently against Richie and rutted shamelessly against his thigh.

“Fuck, you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was cocky and teasing, but there was an apparent undercurrent of wonder there as well.

Eddie shoved his face into Richie’s neck and whined, grabbing onto Richie’s wrists without even knowing what his goal was. “Richie,” he whimpered, sounding pitiful and ruined already.

“What do you want, baby?” Richie’s voice made it clear that he was enjoying seeing Eddie this wrecked, and that just made Eddie even harder. “Come on, tell me, use your words.”

Eddie squirmed as Richie held him close, but still not touching him in any relieving way. “I need you inside,” Eddie said, his voice high and soft as he squirmed in Richie’s grip. “God, please, Richie, need you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard I can’t even think. Fuck me like I’m your little toy.”

Eddie could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and judging by the gasp he heard Richie let out, he’d caught Richie off guard too. But if the hard bulge in his jeans that brushed up against Eddie was any indication, he was apparently just as turned on as Eddie was. Besides, Eddie knew from his blog that Richie was really into that sort of thing too—and, apparently, really into the idea of doing those things with Eddie. The realization that Richie had been saying all those filthy things about him had him grinding against him with even more fervor, kissing his neck with a heated confidence. Richie moaned, and Eddie could feel the warmth of it spreading through him. “Yeah, sweetheart? You want to feel me inside you? You think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, looking up at Richie with wide, desperate eyes. He shivered at the new look in Richie’s eyes, the blue nearly entirely eclipsed by how wide his pupils were. He looked hungry for Eddie; Eddie wanted to feel it. “‘M ready, Richie, please, so open for you.” He looked to the toy on his bed pointedly, but Richie only gave a deep laugh.

“Oh honey, that’s cute that you think that little thing is gonna have you ready for my cock.” Eddie’s breath caught; that toy wasn’t small. Before he could gather his scattered brain enough to react, Richie was scooping him up and tossing him on the bed, the toy falling forgotten to the floor. Richie moved Eddie onto his back, and Eddie went happily, pliantly. Richie’s fingers were cool against Eddie’s burning skin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, slowly dragging them over his hips and down his legs, tossing them to the floor. Eddie’s cock was dripping with precome, his chest flushed a bright red as he squirmed under Richie’s gaze. Eddie been dreaming of Richie manhandling him like this for he didn’t even know how long; he couldn’t help the way he reacted. And he especially couldn’t help the pleased little sound he made when Richie murmured, “God, you’re gorgeous, Eds.” Then Richie was grabbing him by the ankles, gently but firmly spreading Eddie’s legs, and Eddie let out the most pathetic, genuine moan he’d ever heard. “Fuck, baby, you sound pretty. You like when I spread you open?” Richie asked. He was smirking down at Eddie, but Eddie could see how flushed he was, could see the thrilled awe in his dark, hungry eyes as Eddie nodded.

“Richie, please,” Eddie whimpered. “I need you so bad.” He sat up, reaching for Richie’s belt, but Richie easily pressed him back against the mattress with a large hand on the center of his chest. The confidence in Richie’s dominance took Eddie’s breath away, and he stayed right where he was, nice and obedient, as he watched Richie get off the bed and slowly undo his belt, then his button and zipper. He took his time dragging his jeans and boxers off, enough time to let Eddie’s eyes linger on the reveal of the dark hair under Richie’s waistband. Then Richie’s cock was bouncing up against his stomach, hard and flushed and fucking long. Eddie moaned at the sight and fisted the sheets underneath him. He wanted so badly to get his mouth on Richie, to breathe him in and be nice and good for Richie on his knees. But he was also desperate to get fucked; his hole clenched down on nothing at the thought, and then it was all he could think about again. “Richie,” he repeated, whining now as he reached for him. “Stop being such a tease.”

Richie laughed as he moved easily out of Eddie’s grip and climbed on top of him. Eddie gasped softly at the sight of Richie above him, his dark curls surrounding his face, his full, pink lips pulled into the most beautiful smile Eddie had ever seen in his life. He ran his hands over Richie’s chest and sides, marveling at the fact that this was really happening. Then, his eyes flickering down, he tentatively brought his hand to Richie’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” they said, both at the same time, making them giggle together.

“Fuck, Eds, your pretty little hand looks so cute wrapped around my cock,” Richie teased in a low, rough voice. Eddie shivered; he couldn’t tell if Richie was praising him or degrading him, but either way it made his head fuzzy.

“‘M not that little,” Eddie grumbled out of habit. But he was clearly breathless. He’d never been good at pretending not to like Richie’s compliments, however teasing.

“Aw, but you are, baby,” Richie cooed, nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You’re so cute and tiny for me. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to fit my cock inside you.”

“I can,” Eddie whined, both indignant and impatient. He bucked his hips up, but Richie held him down. He gasped when he felt the warm, soft skin of Richie’s cock press against his stomach. Looking down, he saw that Richie had his cock lying on Eddie’s stomach, showing just how deep he would be once he was inside Eddie.

“You sure about that, babydoll?” While the teasing note was still there, Richie’s voice got noticeably softer as he said, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Eddie’s chest swelled at that. Cupping Richie’s face in his hands, he insisted, “I can take it.” Then he reached down and took Richie in his hand, glowing with pride when Richie let out a low moan. “Richie, please, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, baby,” Richie agreed, turning his head to kiss Eddie’s palm. “Fuck, I want you, too.” But he stalled. “Have you ever… like, been fucked before?”

Eddie flushed. “Well, not by someone else, but I have some toys. I’m not gonna break, Richie.” He huffed, but the way Richie was looking at him soothed any ruffled feathers.

“I’m your first?” His smile was soft, and while his eyes glittered, there was nothing teasing about his tone.

“I didn’t wanna do it with anyone else,” Eddie mumbled. He tried to look away, but Richie pulled him into a kiss.

“Fuck, I never thought you’d want me,” he chuckled. “Sorry, that was depressing, I just mean I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner, you know?”

Eddie beamed, a small, giddy giggle dancing on his lips. “Well it’ll happen sooner if you stop talking so much.” But his smile, and all of the little kisses he planted on Richie’s freckled shoulders told Richie that Eddie never wanted him to stop talking.

“Alright, alright, sheesh, I know I’m hot but you don’t gotta rush me.” Eddie was still giggling when Richie kissed him, and he could feel that Richie was smiling too. “Where’s your lube?”

Eddie stretched his hand out and patted the bed for a moment, searching. After what was probably only four seconds but felt like an eternity, he finally found the bottle and handed it eagerly to Richie. “Oh, right,” Richie smirked, “you’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Eddie moaned as Richie swiped his fingers over Eddie’s slick hole, pressing in just a bit. His fingers went in easily, and he pumped them slowly, drawing little, breathy moans out of Eddie. Richie’s fingers were a lot longer and thicker than his own, and they felt amazing, but they weren’t what he wanted in that moment.

“Richie, fuck me,” he whined.

“Aw, no please? Again?” Richie tsked and shook his head, curling his fingers against Eddie’s prostate, making him cry out. “I told you, sweetheart, only good boys who use their manners get fucked.”

“Please,” Eddie cried. He rocked his hips and grabbed at Richie’s shoulders, at his arms, not even sure what his goal was there other than to get Richie closer, to get his attention, to show him how desperate he was. “Please fuck me, please.” He sounded pathetic begging like this, but that just made him harder. And it made Richie’s pupils even wider as he slid his fingers out of Eddie and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Good boy,” he purred. Eddie moaned and arched into Richie’s touch, but he only gave Eddie one more kiss on his cheek before pulling back and covering his cock in lube. Eddie watched, entranced, as Richie’s hand moved smoothly over his cock, glistening and slick. Then Richie was gently spreading Eddie’s legs even further and pressing the head of his cock against Eddie’s hole.

“Yes,” Eddie whimpered brokenly, grasping at the sheets beneath him. “Richie, please.” Meeting his gaze, he said softly, “I need you.”

“I’ve got you,” Richie assured him in a voice that made Eddie feel like he was glowing. Richie took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers, using his other hand to guide his cock inside of Eddie, who gasped at the feeling. God, he couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe his first time was going to be with his favorite person. He couldn’t believe he was finally getting exactly what he wanted. Love flooded through him, warm and perfect, somehow both soothing and electrifying as he watched Richie’s face. Eddie’s mouth dropped as Richie pressed into him, deeper and deeper and still fucking deeper, until finally Richie let out a low moan and Eddie felt absolutely breathless. The stretch was intense, and he held onto Richie tightly as he caught his breath. “Are you alright?” Richie asked. His voice was strained, but the care and concern in it was clear. “You don’t have to take all of it if it’s too much.”

Eddie wanted to laugh at the remark or roll his eyes, but with how breathless and dizzied by pleasure he already was, he had to admit Richie had a point. “Just need a minute,” he gasped. Richie ran a soothing hand over Eddie’s skin, helping him even out his breathing and relax. The feeling of Richie’s cock twitching in anticipation inside of him had him letting out little moans as he adjusted, getting more and more used to the feeling until he felt comfortable enough to tell Richie he could move. Richie kissed him before he did, his lips soft against Eddie’s, a reassuring weight. Eddie breathed in sharply as Richie pulled back, grabbing at Richie’s shoulders.

Richie immediately stopped. “You okay, baby?” he asked, caressing Eddie’s face.

Eddie wanted to melt. Richie was always touching him, always jokingly flirting with him, but this unabashed concern and, well, love had previously been reserved for dire situations, like panic attacks or injuries. Eddie couldn’t help the dopey smile that bloomed on his face as he tilted his chin up and kissed Richie. “I’m okay,” he said breathlessly. “It’s just a little different from my vibrator.” They both gave a shaky laugh as Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“Better, I hope?” he grinned.

“Can’t tell yet,” Eddie retorted. Another snarky comment was on the tip of his tongue when Richie pulled his hips further back, effectively sucking all the air—and attitude—from Eddie’s chest. And then Richie was pushing back in, and Eddie let out a moan he couldn’t have faked if he tried, relaxing back into the mattress as his eyes fell shut. It was the best thing he’d ever felt, pleasure and relief flooding through his body. They’d been building up this tension for years; Eddie had figured it would feel good to break it, but it really felt magical, like something had just clicked into place. Feeling Richie inside of him, rocking his hips carefully, feeling Richie twitch as he tried not to lose control had Eddie’s head reeling. Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on Richie above him, on how flushed his face was. When Richie met his eye, pressing in deep, Eddie let out a small, “Fuck.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Richie was smirking as he said it, but there was something else sparkling in his eyes. Something giddy and awed. Something that made Eddie sigh dreamily, “I love you.”

Richie’s eyes widened for a moment before he pressed his lips firmly against Eddie’s, his hands roaming over Eddie’s body like he couldn’t choose where to put them, where to touch him. “I love you so much,” he beamed, pressing a few more kisses to Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie giggled at the feeling, but then Richie’s hips moved just a little faster, pressing him in just a little deeper, and he was back to melting under Richie’s touch, clinging to him as he rocked his hips with Richie’s. “Fuck, you’re so amazing, baby, so fucking beautiful. You look so good like this, holy shit.”

Eddie smiled almost drunkenly at Richie’s ability to ramble even when blowing Eddie’s mind. “Feels so good,” he moaned, his voice breathy and just a little bit higher than normal. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist. “Please, Richie, please.”

“Fuck, baby, wanna make you feel like this all the fucking time,” Richie groaned as he picked up the pace. Eddie whined in pleasure at the change, and that just spurred Richie to go faster, harder, until he was well and truly fucking Eddie, both of them moaning with every thrust.

“Oh my god,” Eddie cried, “ohmygodohmygodhmygod, oh fuck, Richie, please.” It felt so amazing, Richie fucking into him like this, but he needed that little bit more. His cock was throbbing desperately, achingly hard; he needed to feel Richie’s hand on him. “Richie, please,” he whimpered, “please, please touch me. I need you, I need you so bad, please, Richie.” Eddie was pouting now, grabbing aimlessly at Richie, his legs still wrapped tight around him.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” Richie marveled, his voice sweet and condescending as he wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock. Eddie nearly screamed at the contact, his back arching off the bed. Richie laughed a little, which just made Eddie even harder. The way Richie spread his precome over his cock, twisting his wrist just so as he stroked him had that familiar tension coiling in his lower stomach. “Aw, does that feel good? You gonna come on my cock, kitten?”

“Fuck, yes!” Eddie screamed. He gripped at the sheets as Richie stroked him, his voice washing over Eddie, mixing with the pleasure of Richie’s touch, of his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes, please let me come, please, please, please.”

“That’s a good boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie could feel himself tipping over the edge at the words, at how low and affected Richie’s voice was. He groaned out, “Come on my cock like a good boy, princess,” and pure pleasure crashed over Eddie like a wave. He arched his back and cried out as he came, his moans filling the room as he squirmed under Richie, grabbed at him, at the sheets. It was fucking ethereal. He felt somehow so in tune with his body and yet so detached, like he was floating. He was barely cognizant of what Richie was saying, but when he put the sounds together and realized Richie had just said, panting, “Fuck, baby, gonna come,” Eddie felt like a live wire again.

“In me,” he said urgently. His mind was still a little too scattered for full sentences, but he knew what he wanted. God, he felt like he needed it. Like he needed to feel that connected to Richie. “Richie, come inside me, please.”

Richie apparently didn’t need to be told twice; he let out a moaned, “Oh, fuck,” before burying his face in Eddie’s neck, his breathy moans like music in Eddie’s ear. And then, as Eddie was coming down from his own high, he felt the holiest thing in the world: Richie’s cock, twitching inside of him, then his warm come filling Eddie up. It was unreal, being this close to him. Richie clutching at him as he came. It was even better than the little fantasies Eddie occasionally allowed himself. Richie was here, in his arms, pressing kisses to his neck as he caught his breath. Eddie was stroking his hair and rubbing his back as Richie nuzzled into him. Richie’s skin pressed against his skin, his legs wrapped around Richie’s waist, then falling to his sides, but still pressed to him. Still keeping him close. There wasn’t a single thought in his head that wasn’t about Richie.

Richie pulled him from his dreamy haze with light kisses pressed up his jaw, then over his cheeks. Eddie giggled at the onslaught of affection, still reeling from how fucking hot and euphoric what they had just done together had been. But he happily accepted Richie’s kisses, his heart bursting, then racing as Richie pulled back to look in his eyes. “Holy, fuck,” Richie beamed, his face flushed and blue eyes hooded from the weight of his orgasm, even as they sparkled.

“I know,” Eddie said, returning Richie’s grin as he basked in the surreality of having Richie on top of him, his dorky yet charming smile framed by lips that were red and swollen because of Eddie. His glasses were knocked askew, and Eddie instinctively reached up to fix them. With a sense of wonder, he realized that his touch was allowed to linger this time. He ran his fingers down Richie’s cheekbones, over his jaw, cupped his cheeks. “I love you,” he said. The words spilled out over his lips like he couldn’t stand not to say them. And while it made his heart race a little to say it out loud now that the adrenaline and tension was all worked through, it felt even better this time when Richie’s face softened and he nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“I love you so fucking much.” Richie’s voice rarely got that soft, that sincere; it felt like a blanket wrapping around Eddie. It felt safe, secure. It felt like a promise. And if there was anyone in the world Eddie knew he could trust, it was Richie. That feeling of everything coming together came back to Eddie as he lay there under Richie, their lips moving together, feeling light as a feather now that everything was finally out in the open.

#reddie #notsfw #reddie smut #reddie fic

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

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Hey Val! I love ur writing so so much and ur amazing! My request is maybe like a Tom Holland x Reader where Y/N is a famous actress and Paddy’s celeb crush, and one day Tom brings Y/N home to meet his brothers and Paddy is vying for her attention and Tom and Paddy get jealous of each other? Thanks in advance if u decide to write this!💕

thank you so much love!! i took forever on this i’m sorry :( please enjoy

“you’re dating who?” paddy gawks, harry snickering at him from across the table. tom leans back in his chair. “y/n y/l/n. you’ve heard of her, haven’t you?” he clasps his hands behind his head. “i’ve seen all her movies at least twice. i… i love her!” his youngest brother beams. “so do i,” tom playfully challenges.

“darling, you should bring her by tomorrow. sam’s cooking us dinner,” nikki suggests with a supportive smile. hearing his name mentioned, sam peeks up from his phone. “since when?” “since your brother has a girlfriend he’s only just told us about!” she nudges tom’s shoulder. tom bites back the grin growing on his lips. “a girlfriend he loves, at that.”

“he’s not the only one,” harry comments and glances at paddy, whose whole face has gone red. “i guess i could whip something up. i’m visiting the shops later,” sam agrees with a nod at tom. he winks back. “thanks, mate.” turning to his mom, tom’s own face gets warm. “sorry i haven’t said anything, mum. we’ve been trying to keep our relationship on the low. dating in hollywood is…”

“a shit show,” nikki finishes for tom. her words make him chuckle. “exactly. we wanted to make sure we were ready before bringing in the rest of the world.” eager as ever, paddy speaks up again. “i think we’re the perfect people to start with, specifically me.” that earns a quirked eyebrow from tom. “easy there, padster man.” he looks him over, trying to figure out his motives. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were trying to steal my girl.”

paddy points at him with a glint in his eyes tom has never seen. “you don’t know any better.”

the family gets back to their conversation, talking about what you’re like and how their dad’s gigs are going. tom is a bit distracted, though. he isn’t sure what paddy meant by that. realistically, he knows he won’t be stealing you away. there’s a huge age gap among other things. it seems to tom like paddy has a crush on you, a big one. he’s probably just excited to meet you. that’s good, right?

tom doesn’t think about it again until arriving back at his parents’ the next day. you’re with him this time, nervously clutching at your purse in one hand while your free one squeezes his. he frowns at your fidgeting.

“y/n… they’re gonna love you, sweetheart,” he assures you, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “how do you know?” you wonder as you two walk up the steps. “because i love you, and i think paddy’s got a thing for you as well.” he’s smirking when he tells you this. scoffing, you curl into tom’s side. “i love you too, but what’s up with paddy?” you stand next to tom on the porch. he rings the doorbell before replying.

“he’s watched your whole filmography, all your interviews,” tom explains, shaking his head lightheartedly. “i’m sure there’s a poster or two of you in his room somewhere.” you pout your lower lip out. “aw, so he’s a fan?” “he’s my competition,” he jokes. your head falls onto tom’s shoulder with a sigh. “he’s a literal child, tom… and your brother.” you glance up at him wickedly. “maybe i can sign his posters. i think he’d like that.”

tom slips his arm around your waist, hearing footsteps come towards the door. “oh, paddy would be thrilled,” he confirms. your response is a hum as the front door swings open. “tom, darling. back so soon?” nikki teases her son, then gives you the warmest grin. “you must be y/n. we haven’t heard much about you, but we will.” you return the smile and let her take your hand to guide you inside.

after all the introductions, you gather outside to sit and talk. sam is in the kitchen cooking, nikki is helping him, and harry is setting the table. that leaves you with tom and paddy. they’re on either side of you, your head on tom’s shoulder and his arm around both of yours. paddy is talking about a school project while you nod along. he’s completely harmless, contrary to how tom described him.

“the deadline is next friday, but i’ve only just started,” paddy explains, you laughing softly. tom’s lips brush your ear. “i’m gonna look for something to drink. do you want anything?” he speaks in a whisper and trails his fingertips over your shoulder. “sure, tommy. whatever you’re having, thanks,” you reply with a kiss to the back of his hand. paddy clenches his jaw as he watches you two.

“what about you, pads? soda?” tom teases and earns a giggle from you. “i told you not to call me that,” paddy groans back. he scrunches his face up when tom reaches over you to ruffle his hair. “someone’s got to put you in your place. soda it is.” “don’t take too long.” you tilt your head back to look at tom. “i won’t.” he licks his lips before pressing them to yours, trying to deepen it form the angle.

“children are present,” you remind him, sitting back up promptly. “be a good boy and get our drinks.” “ok, fine. i’m going,” tom laughs out, pecking your cheek and standing from the couch. paddy rolls his eyes when his brother finally gets inside. he hates being thought of as a child by you, even if he is one. “so,” you start to fill the silence. “what else are you-“

“i think you’re an incredible actress,” paddy says instead with an innocent smile. “really? thank you so much.” you rest your head in your hand, grinning. “tom kinda told me already. he said you’ve seen all my movies.” “did he?” paddy repeats bitterly. he’d probably made him sound obsessed. you’re still grinning. “mhm, and that you might have posters of me.” his eyes widen, cheeks flushing a deep pink. he’ll never let tom in his room again.

“between you and me…” you look behind you to make sure tom isn’t coming. paddy scoots closer to you and nods. “i think tom is a little jealous.” “he should be,” paddy mumbles to himself. that doesn’t stop you from hearing. “what are you-“ “how about you help me with my project? i could use the extra hands,” he smoothly changes the subject. must be a holland thing.

“let’s wait until after dinner. tom is gonna be back soon, anyway,” you try to reason. you’re only fueling the fire by saying that. “i need to use all the time i have. come with me!” he’s grabbing your hands before you can protest again. you end up following paddy to his room, tom still sucked into a conversation with the rest of his family. harry sees you two pass by. he murmurs a div to paddy.

when tom gets back outside with two beers and a coke, you and paddy are gone. he frowns, heading to the kitchen once again.

“has anyone seen y/n?” he wonders and scans the room for you. “i think paddy stole her.” “they’re in his room. he just brought her up,” harry replies, his lips forming a line. a bit of anger bubbles in tom upon hearing this. “dinner is nearly done!” nikki gasps. “bring them back down,” sam requests. setting the drinks on the counter, tom sighs. “will do. give me a minute.”

tom’s annoyance only grows as he ascends the stairs. he can hear your giggling from behind the bedroom door, obviously caused by paddy. it’s silly that he’s so jealous of his baby brother, but he knows him well.

the door opens to reveal you laying stomach down on the floor and paddy on his bed. you’re autographing a picture of yourself while he gets books together for his assignment. tom isn’t sure what he was expecting, though he’s relieved this is all it is.

“oh, tom!” you notice him standing in the doorway and cap the pen. “you were right about the posters, babe.” “i see.” tom clicks his tongue. paddy scowls at his brother. “i can’t believe you told her,” he grumbles, you handing him the signed photograph. “no, it’s fine! i think it’s really sweet.” his face relaxes. “nevermind, then.” he’s now making heart eyes at you, tom inhaling a sharp breath.

“y/n/n, can i talk to you?” he asks quietly, eyes flitting over to paddy. “in private?” “um, yeah. i’ll be right back, okay?” you tell paddy with an apologetic smile. he shoots you a thumbs up, tom stepping aside so you can leave the room. “mum wants you for dinner in five, actually,” tom corrects. he’s quick to close the door behind him so he doesn’t have to hear complaints.

you’re leaning against the wall, arms crossed over your chest. tom walks up to you cautiously. “what the hell was that?” you squint at him. “i came back with the drinks, and you were gone,” he answers lowly, and not to your satisfaction. “which doesn’t answer my question.” “i… well…” tom huffs childishly. “paddy’s whisked you away! i wanted you to spend the night with my family, yeah?” he sets his hands on your hips.

putting your own hands on both his shoulders, you look at him knowingly. “babe, paddy is your family. there’s nothing wrong with some one on one time.” tom stares down at the floor while rubbing his thumb over your hip. he doesn’t say anything. “so what if he has a little crush on me? he’ll get over it.” you take a step closer to him. “what makes you think that?” tom chews his lower lip.

“he’s just starstruck. and, i’m his future sister in law,” you confidently respond, finally making tom perk up. he exhales a laugh and pulls your body against his, leaving a warm kiss on your forehead. “bonding isn’t such a bad idea after all.” “mm, i told you,” you bury your face in the crook of his neck. paddy leaves his room then, his face falling at the sight in front of him. this time, tom puts his pettiness aside.

“get in here, padster man. we’ve got room for one more.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland au #tom holland request

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renjuseyo · 4 years ago

Note

if ur requests are open can i pls request Jaehyun x male reader where the reader is so drunk that he forgot that his boyfriend(jaehyun) is his boyfriend. then he asks a member if he is taken and they said yes and that will make reader to silently be sad in the corner and jaehyun asks if readers ready to go home......... andddddddd ill leaveee the rest to u hehehehe (iloveurwriting so much)

tipsy ; jaehyun

group: nct

pairing: jung yoonoh / reader (male)

synopsis: both you and jaehyun knew how much of a lightweight you were, but when has that ever stopped you?

genre: fluff, crack

warnings: implied sexual content, explicit language

i lost inspiration for this, so i hope this mess of a fic is okay anon! as always, feedback is appreciated!!

when you peek through the peephole, you expect to see the delivery man holding the package you had ordered online. instead, you’re pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriend on the other side of the door, wrapped in a hoodie, mask, and tinted sunglasses. his disguise is pretty unnecessary given how your neighbors are mainly made up of old people who have never heard of nct, but it gets the job done.

once you’ve unhooked the chain bolt, you unlock the door and swing it open. he slightly jumps at the noise, but visibly softens when he sees you. “hey (name),” he greets, slipping off his mask and sunglasses.

“hey yourself. what are you doing here?” you ask. with how hectic his schedule has been after promotions with the nct 2020 project and working as an mc on inkigayo, you two hadn’t seen each other in weeks. though you missed him, you sympathized with the tireless hours he spent working as an idol. at least you preoccupied yourself with netflix.

he slips off his sneakers and enters your home, taking off the rest of his disguise. you close and lock the door behind you, trailing behind him. “i managed to squeak in some free time today, so i came to visit you,” he explains. he faces you with a smile, pulling you close. you subconsciously lean your head onto his shoulder, humming as he sways your bodies.

“i missed you,” you tell him, fingers ghosting his waist. he makes a noise of agreement, resting his chin on your head.

you eventually pull away, eliciting a grumble from jaehyun. contrary to popular belief, he was the clingy one of you two, always using the excuse of “you’re just the perfect size for cuddling.” “stop grumbling, jae. you’ve come so far, so it’s only fair i make you something to eat,” you tell him, making your way towards the kitchen.

he follows suit, hand grabbing at the hood of your hoodie. you stop in front of the refrigerator and open it, canvassing the food you have in there. as you debate what to make for lunch, he rests his chin on your shoulder and snakes both arms around your waist. you roll your eyes, though you don’t make any movements to pry his arms off. “i can always eat something else,” he smirks.

you realize too late the implications of his comment, absentmindedly sorting through the bags of vegetables in your fridge. “do you want takeout instead then? mrs. moon from two doors down said that there’s this really good pho house near here.”

he nuzzles into your shoulder. “i’d really like to eat you,” he says as nonchalantly as one can, considering his implications. you nearly drop a bag of spinach, spluttering incoherent words as you spin around to swat his shoulder. he laughs, loud and proud, a stark contrast from the quiet, polite laugh he’s practiced.

“you’re the worst,” you hiss, reluctantly closing the fridge. he pecks your cheek, eliciting a disgusted screech from you. he leans back with a laugh before attacking your face with kisses. you shut your eyes as you try to wiggle out of his grasp. but jaehyun’s been working out, evident from his arms, and he’s always had an intense grip. when he leans away, satisfied, you flick his forehead. with how clingy jaehyun’s being, making lunch isn’t an option anymore. “i hate you.”

jaehyun eventually relinquishes his attacks, threading his fingers with yours. “you’re usually not this clingy, jae. actually, now that i think about it, you don’t flirt all too much either, much less suggest sexual innuendos. what’s the occasion?” you ask as he walks you two to your living room. he doesn’t immediately respond, flopping down onto the couch and dragging you along with him. you land on his chest with an oomph, your cheek squished against his chest.

he combs his fingers through your hair, smiling as you make a noise of approval. “well, i wasn’t going to say anything before the news outlet, but...” his smile only widens when he sees you look up at him with curious eyes; he nearly coos at how innocent you look. “a certain idol you know might make his acting debut soon~”

your eyes widen, and you quickly prop yourself up with your elbows. “what! no way!” you exclaim, jaw hanging open. jaehyun laughs at your shell-shocked reaction, though it’s a given; when you were in a mood to vent, he would always take your hand and pepper your knuckles with butterfly kisses as you ranted about how he deserved better and shouldn’t only be seen as a visual, whining about how sm failed to show his talents as a singer and an actor. well, those days are over now, he supposes.

“yes way, love. are you excited?” he isn’t sure why he asked that question, considering how shell-shocked you already look. plus, the squeal that leaves your throat and the way you throw yourself onto him is answer enough already.

“do you even have to ask? you used to send me videos of you acting out different roles because you wanted to try acting, and you always did them so well! i’m really proud of you, jae. you deserve it.”

“i’m really glad you think so, (name). do you want to hear-”

“no!” you interrupt, slapping both of your palms on his mouth. he tilts his head in confusion, surprised by your sudden outburst. “knowing you, you’re going to accidentally tell me everything, and then i’m going to know the whole story line before the show even airs!”

he’s about to refute your claims, but he can’t really considering how you’ve layered both of your palms on his mouth. plus, judging by the look you give him, he’s certain he’s going to be eating his own words sooner or later. with a sigh, he peels your palms off. "you’re no fun. can i not even tell you the name and the basic plot?”

“i’m sorry for wanting to give you ratings,” you snort. “and no. then i’ll be waiting in anticipation and will force you to tell me everything, even if you tell me you can’t because i told you before not to say anything. you can’t even give me a drop of information.” well, jaehyun supposes that is true. you’ve always been enticed by television shows; he’s personally seen you react to cliffhangers a show gives before it ultimately gets cancelled. needless to say, it isn’t a pretty sight. “this calls for celebration! we can invite the boys too... do you want it to be extravagant, or are we keeping it low key?” you ask, sitting up and reaching for your phone.

“what happened to just you and me?” jaehyun asks, batting his eyelashes with feigned innocence. “i can think of a lot more fun things we can do.”

you don’t even bat an eye; unlike earlier, you were prepared for this kind of comment. “shoving my foot up your ass sounds really fun, but unfortunately that won’t get me any food. the boys probably already knew before i did, so you’ve probably already celebrated with them... i guess we can keep it simple.”

“i’d take your foot any day,” he fires back with a heavily exaggerated moan, to which you respond with a slap on the arm.

“i’m telling johnny to bring over beer.” you’re texting a group chat with you and the other 127 members. you’re only dating jaehyun, yet sometimes it feels like you’re dating all of them with how close you are. plus, gossiping with jungwoo about your boyfriend is always fun. with him being his roommate, you both often share similar struggles.

he rolls his eyes, stretching over to wrap his arms around your waist. he peers over your shoulder to look at your screen. “please, (name). you’re the lightest lightweight i’ve ever met. who are you telling to bring over drinks? you’re like a baby.”

“fuck you.”

“i think it’s the other way around, but i’d gladly let you order me around~” he flirts.

you shove a pillow in his face as you fire off a text.

after ordering pizza, tteokbokki, and fried chicken, your dinner is nearly complete. the boys were coming over soon, with johnny being in charge of drinks, jungwoo in charge of takeout, and donghyuck in charge of entertainment. you had a nintendo switch jaehyun had gifted you two years ago, and you intended on making full use of it tonight.

(plus, you have yet to beat yuta at super smash bros. today is going to be that day.)

you had finished clearing the table for the food before you notice jaehyun’s sleeping frame on the couch. you’re about to walk over and reprimand him for being unproductive, but seeing how tired and peaceful he looks stops you. instead, you grab a blanket from your room and drape it over him.

you’re about to walk away and grab water bottles for everyone when you feel something tugging your hand. craning your neck, you smile at jaehyun’s hooded eyes laced with sleep. “c’mere,” he murmurs.

water bottles can wait, then. you pat jaehyun’s side, and he scoots over to allow room for you. as you slot yourself in his arm, spreading a leg across his, he makes a noise of satisfaction, eyes fluttering close. “someone’s tired,” you observe, pushing the mop of black bangs obscuring his eyes. “did practice run late?”

he avoids your gaze. “no, i spent the night playing uno with johnny, ten, and mark,” he admits.

you laugh. “must have been intense. i bet you were so burnt out from uno,” you sympathize with sarcasm. “but in general, don’t overexert yourself, okay? i know you’ve been busy, but you need to remember to take care of yourself.”

jaehyun nods, but a yawn rips out of his chest. you give him a knowing look, one that reads what did i say? which causes him to laugh. “yes sir,” he lazily responds.

“as tired as you may be, don’t go falling asleep on me now. the others are going to be here soon. what would they think, the guest of honor asleep at his own party?” you chuckle, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on his forehead.

he beams at the gesture. “give me more kisses and i’ll think about it,” he coaxes.

usually you don’t give in to his bratty demands, but seeing how tired he is reminds you of the accomplishments he’s achieved in the past year. a kiss is the least you could down. you lean down, breath fanning his lips, and he closes his eyes in contentment.

a few seconds pass, but the kiss never comes. when jaehyun opens his eyes, he’s surprised to see you’re no longer by his side, instead standing by the door. “that’s one way of telling a guy to come and get it,” he sighs, sitting up. he wearily rubs his eyes, blurry eyes watching you.

“sorry jae, taeil-hyung just texted saying they’re here,” you apologize. he sighs, eventually standing up after a few moments of stretching.

just as you had said, knocks resonate throughout your home, signalling their arrival. you peek through the peephole to verify their identities and sure enough, all nine other members stand outside, arms loaded. you undo the chain lock and swing the door open, greeting everyone.

“thanks for having us,” taeyong smiles, stepping into your home. everyone else echoes his message, but it comes out mumbled, like they hadn’t thought of saying anything until taeyong. the power a leader has, you suppose.

“no problem. here, let me grab some of the food.” you scurry over to jungwoo and mark, whose arms were loaded with the takeout you ordered.

as you grab a box of pizza from mark, johnny slaps you on the back. you nearly lurch forward and drop the pizza; if you had, johnny would be first on your hit list. “so jaehyun finally told you?” he asks with a grin.

“thank god. he spent days talking about ways to tell you, knowing how excited you’d be,” sicheng snorts, slipping off his shoes.

you laugh, especially when you see jaehyun spluttering in embarrassment. “you could’ve fooled me. all he did was waltz in and drop the news after he nearly fell asleep. made me feel like a proud parent and everything.”

“you may feel like one now, but wait until you watch him act. just going to be lots of cringing and teasing,” doyoung sneers, elbowing his shoulder.

yuta rolls his eyes. “like you’re one to talk, mr. lead actor.”

your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. “lead actor?!” doyoung laughs, answering your question. “good for you, hyung!”

jaehyun narrows his eyes. “why do you look more amazed at his news than mine?!”

i’m not a lightweight, you told yourself. i can handle whatever yuta throws at me, you told yourself.

you were sorely mistaken.

jaehyun notices this too, seeing you sway in your seat. he chuckles at the sight; you were never able to hold your liquor, and when you got drunk, you were quite the spontaneous drinker to deal with. one time you had drank so much that you cried over cute things, like when sicheng showed you a picture of his dogs. or the one time you were a man on a mission, flirting with all of the members. needless to say, that led to a very interested jaemin and a very pouty jaehyun.

you had initially planned on just sticking to soda, but yuta had wanted to make things more interesting and challenged you to a game of super smash bros. each time the loser lost, they would have to down a can of beer. despite your inability to hold your liquor, it activated your competitive nature. but of course, yuta is crazy good at any games he suggests, completely demolishing you with lucina. no matter which character you chose, you were just no match against him.

after several fruitless attempts, you’re seated between taeil and sicheng, who seem way too interested in the tteokbokki to notice your behavior. everyone else seems occupied, too; johnny, yuta, jungwoo, and donghyuck are playing mario kart 8, taeyong and mark are immersed in yet another one of their deep, contemplative conversations, and doyoung’s watching the whole scene unfold, supervising everyone (probably to ensure nothing ends up in flames). on the other hand, jaehyun’s sitting on your sofa, alternating between watching the four men in front of your television screaming and you in your tipsy state. he decides to stick with the latter.

eventually you lift your eyes up and make eye contact with jaehyun, who responds with a wink. seeing you flush and look away has his chest swelling with giddiness; you’re just too cute sometimes. the table isn’t far from the sofa, so he can hear any conversation that goes on there. he watches as you take another sip of your can, eyes shifting back and forth from the television and to him. you stare at him for a bit longer, eyes canvassing his face, his posture, his thoughts.

it seems sicheng notices your staring, sitting back down and nudging your shoulder. “what’s so interesting that it’s gotten your attention?” he asks, purposefully raising his voice so jaehyun can hear.

you flush at how loud he is, lazily putting a finger to your lips. “shhh, i’m staring at the pretty boy there.” you point your chin towards jaehyun, who pretends to not see. you’ve never been subtle when you were drunk, but telling you that would just lead to you loudly slurring your arguments. “do you know if he’s dating anyone?”

jaehyun nearly spits out his beer. of all the times you’ve gotten drunk, you’ve never once forgotten that you were his boyfriend - if anything, you were all too eager to prove just how much you belonged to him. he’s not sure whether to feel startled or amused.

sicheng chooses the latter, a smirk forming. “yeah, he has a boyfriend,” he tells you. jaehyun hopes you’ll realize that you’re the boyfriend in question, but seeing how you deflate like a balloon, he guesses not. he questions how much you’ve had to drink.

you slide off of your chair, pouting. “of course a guy as attractive as him has a boyfriend. i’m not surprised,” you grumble, crossing your arms. jaehyun can’t help the amused smirk that makes its way on his face. watching you envy yourself for being his boyfriend is very amusing.

sicheng must feel the same, stifling his laughter. “don’t look so bitter, (name). his boyfriend’s a good guy.”

you pout, crossing your arms. “well, i bet i can treat him ten times better! pretty boy there doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” you boast, standing up.

sicheng can only watch in amusement as you stagger towards the kitchen. if only you knew how strange that statement was. “if you’re so confident about that, then what are you doing? planning on hiding in the kitchen to wallow on your sorrows?” he teases.

“i’m not!” you protest. “i’m just going to get some water because i’m dizzy as fuck and possibly cry about how single i am.” you mumble the last part, though because sicheng has uncanny hearing, he probably heard, if the smirk on his lips is anything to go by.

jaehyun decides it’s time to intercept, because as amusing as things were, he hoped you weren’t actually going to cry about being single, especially since you had no reason to. he stops by the dining table where taeil and sicheng are. “so i heard you and (name) were talking about me.”

sicheng snorts, rolling his eyes. “just because we said pretty boys doesn’t mean we were talking about you.”

though unaware of the topic, taeil leans in, chewing on a mouthful of pizza. “yeah, for all we know, he could be talking about me!” he chirps. he’s met with an annoyed glare from sicheng (though both of them can see him stifling his laughter), which he responds with an air kiss. typical taeil.

“well, i’m going to check up on him. i’ll leave you two lovebirds alone for now,” he teases. taeil looks a little too happy at the joke, whereas sicheng threatens to stab him with a fork. it’s amusing watching their reactions, considering how everyone around them already knows that they’re dating. those two just haven’t admitted anything yet.

he follows you into the kitchen, though you don’t seem to notice, too busy pouring yourself a glass of cold water. “(name),” he greets.

you jump in surprise, nearly spilling water on yourself. when you turn to face jaehyun, your confident nature immediately disappears, quickly replaced with one of bashfulness. “you know me?” you ask, in awe of how said pretty boy could possibly recognize you.

if only you knew just how well he knew you, he thinks to himself. instead, he decides to play along; you’re obviously too drunk to realize how silly this seems. “i do,” he hums, patting your shoulder. he isn’t sure if your red cheeks are from the alcohol or him, though he hopes for the latter. he never gets less prideful when you get all shy because of him.

hoping to maintain the confident facade you had earlier, you quickly clear your throat, looking away. “how can i help you?” you ask, taking a sip of your water.

“well, i was hoping if we could talk in a more... private area?” he asks.

you nearly spit out your water, eyes the size of saucers. he has to stop himself from laughing, afraid the drunk you would get the wrong impression. “just to talk, that’s all. it’s kind of loud here, don’t you think?”

the screams from the living room (which are mainly from johnny and donghyuck and the occasional ones of distress from taeyong) and the volume of the television are evidence enough, so you nod in agreement. “yeah, sure.”

“perfect. let’s go then~” jaehyun laces your fingers together before you can say anything, and your ears are practically fuming with smoke. you’re too distracted by his touch to question how he knows where your bedroom is. when you both enter your room, he flops down on your bed, patting the empty spot beside him. at this, you gasp, scandalized and very flustered. he chuckles at how shy you’ve gotten, shaking his head. “my my (name), get your head out of the gutter. we’re not going to do anything... unless you want to,” he flirts.

jaehyun never tries to take advantage of you, especially when you’re not sober. but when the sober you would throw pillows (or anything that wouldn’t actually hurt him) at him for flirting with you, the drunk you would always fire back with equally flirty remarks, or the shy you would just splutter in embarrassment. he can’t help it, spewing sweet nothings to you - you’re just too fun to mess with for him to not to, especially when you’re drunk.

reluctantly you place your water on your bedside table and lower yourself beside him, heart thumping erratically. he chuckles at how timid you are, a stark contrast from the snarky (name) that he knows so well. he turns to face you, both of your faces only centimetres apart. the smell of alcohol lingers on both of you, though it isn’t as prominent on him as it is on you. he makes a mental note to ask yuta how much you’ve had.

you squeak at how close you two are, hands flying to cover your face. “you have a boyfriend,” you whisper. you’re undeniably flustered, but you would rather die than be known as a homewrecker!

his laugh startles you, even more so when he presses a hand to the small of your back. you look like you’ve committed a heinous crime, potentially causing an attractive man like jaehyun to cheat on his boyfriend. the statement is so abusrd though, considering how you’re the boyfriend in question. “i do, you are right. he won’t be mad at me, though,” he hums, leaning in so close your noses would touch if it weren’t for the makeshift barrier you’ve made from your hands. you flush red in embarrassment, hiding your eyes behind your hands. if you make eye contact with him, you’re sure you’re going to melt into a puddle.

“even if he didn’t mind, i don’t think we should be doing this. i know i wouldn’t be happy if my boyfriend did this,” you whisper.

jaehyun sure is having a field day with this. you’re too flustered and worried to notice the pure look of adoration he’s giving you. “call it a hunch,” he says. “i promise you, he won’t be mad at this.”

“why?”

“you’ll find out tomorrow.” he pauses as a yawn rips out of his chest. “i’m really tired, so i’m going to sleep. the boys probably won’t quiet down on my account, anyways. you can always go back to them if you want, though,” he offers. a small part of him hopes for you to stay and cuddle with him, but judging how you’re so sure he has a boyfriend who would be absolutely devastated for literally sleeping with another man and how you have no knowledge of where you stand, he wouldn’t be surprised if you left.

what does surprise him, though, is when you stay rooted in your spot on the bed. “i’m tired, too,” you say.

jaehyun smiles so sweetly, the one that has his eyes dripping with honey, that your hands fly up to cover your face again. his boyfriend must be lucky to see that sight all of the time, you bitterly think to yourself. still, even if you’re not sure why he’s flirting with you or where you stand, you decide to savor every moment that you get to spend with him. even if you don’t really know who pretty boy is, he’s sweet and kind. plus, only a fool would cover their eyes when someone as beautiful as him lays before you.

he moves an arm to pat your thigh when he freezes in midair, remembering how he’s supposed to have a boyfriend to stay loyal to (even though he’s right in front of him). he retracts his arm and instead pulls your blanket to cover your lower bodies. “goodnight, (name),” he hums, shutting his eyes.

before jaehyun can begin the long process of trying to fall asleep, he feels you tug at his t-shirt. cracking an eye open, he sees you laying before him, staring at him with curious eyes and red cheeks. oh no, now he’s really tempted to kiss you. you’re impossibly adorable, seeing how vulnerable and curious you are. “yes?” he hums, trying to stay awake. the effects from last night’s uno matches have really begin to take a toll on him.

“i don’t think i’ve gotten the chance to ask, but may i know your name?” you ask.

jaehyun chuckles. he’s flirted with you and is even sleeping in the same bed as you, yet he’s forgotten the basic courtesy that is introductions. he didn’t think he would’ve needed it, considering how you’re his boyfriend. but then again, you’ve forgotten that you are his boyfriend. “my name’s yoonoh, but you can call me jaehyun or jae.”

no one actually calls him jae except for you. it’s a short and simple nickname that you have for him, nothing endearing. but because it’s something that only you call him, even though there isn’t a meaning to it, he’s grown fond of the way it sounds leaving your lips. which is why hearing it from anyone that isn’t you only leaves a weird taste on his tongue.

you’re so drunk you don’t even remember jaehyun, nor who he is to you, so it isn’t surprising that you stick with jaehyun instead. he doesn’t mind though, because he knows when you’re sober again he’ll hear you calling him jae and cuddling into him and doing all of the coupley things he wasn’t able to do tonight.

wow, jaehyun really is a lovesick fool. it’s only been one night of not being able to cuddle or kiss you, but he feels like he’s missed a whole eternity of them. he really isn’t sure how he’s lived before you came into his life.

for an hour, you pester jaehyun on how you two became acquainted and who you were to him. he indulged you, of course, purposefully skipping over the part of you becoming boyfriends and doing things that friends definitely didn’t do. his stories seem to be an effective way of getting you to sleep, because in the middle of a story of how a pair of swapped backpacks led to your relationship, you’re lulled to sleep, tired hands clutching onto his t-shirt.

he can only chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss on your nose. you’ll sure be in for a storm when you sober up tomorrow morning.

your jaw drops as you stare at the video on doyoung’s phone. it’s of you and sicheng, and right now you can only watch in horror as you pester him for information on the pretty boy you were so interested in last night. you have no recollection of last night’s events, though watching the video makes you glad you don’t. the problem is, the boys were there to witness them, even recording evidence of it on their phones. you’ve already seen pictures that johnny and taeyong have taken from when you and jaehyun were cuddling in your bed.

“please tell me that isn’t me,” you whisper, utterly mortified.

mark pats your shoulder in sympathy. “that’s you, all right.”

at his confirmation, you groan, burying your face in your hands. doyoung and donghyuck are cackling at your demise, with sicheng reciting your complaints word from word to a very amused johnny and yuta.

“...and then he was like well, i bet i can treat him ten times better! pretty boy there doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” sicheng mimics, purposefully raising his voice an octave higher as he mocks you. out of embarrassment, you reach for a pillow on your couch and fling it at him. unlike jaehyun, he’s very good at dodging, proven when he ducks. instead, the pillow smacks yuta square in the face. he throws it back at you with even more force.

you duck, the pillow smacking an unsuspecting jaehyun. he really is horrible at dodging things - how shameful. “what the hell was that for?” he splutters, picking it up from the floor.

you turn to face him, eyebrows furrowed with annoyance. “you watched me make an utter fool out of myself, and you didn’t once try to do anything about it?” you hiss.

jaehyun frowns in confusion until doyoung dangles his phone in front of his face. when he watches the video, his face eventually contorts to one of amusement. “oh, that.”

your face is red with embarrassment. “yeah, that! like seriously? where is your loyalty? do you not care about my well being? you know how vicious these monsters can be!” you whine, gesturing at the said nine monsters behind you.

he nonchalantly shrugs, though you can see the corners of his lips threatening to curl into a smirk. “i do, but you were just too cute, seeing you all flustered. what about my own well being, huh? seeing you like that isn’t good for my heart,” he coos.

your heart leaps, but you mask it by smothering his face with a pillow. “you’re the worst,” you grumble.

“you act like you don’t like it, but i know you do~” he retaliates, albeit muffled from the pillow.

behind you two stands nine other boys, obviously unimpressed. watching you two engage in petty banter is always amusing, but not when it makes you flustered and encourages jaehyun to flirt with you like the cheesy, lovesick fool he is. “they’re so gross,” donghyuck gags.

johnny nods in agreement. “let’s get out of here before they start fucking on the counter.”

at johnny’s comment, you turn away from jaehyun so fast you swear you hear your neck crack. “do you have no filter?!” you shriek, exasperated.

with your guard down, jaehyun takes this as a chance to wrap his arms around your waist. a noise of surprise leaves your throat as he places his chin on your shoulder. “you’re so mean, (name). i liked the shy you a lot better~” he hums.

the other boys don’t even blink. “we’re going to leave now before things get bloody. good luck, (name),” taeyong says, saluting you.

jaehyun’s already tugging at the hem of your shirt and peppering your neck with kisses by the time the boys leave.

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #kpop #nct x reader #nct x male reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 x male reader #jaehyun #jung yoonoh #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x male reader #renjuseyo : nct #renjuseyo : fics

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boygirlmeetsworld · 3 years ago

Text

Messy.

ONE-SHOT

Word count: 2793

Disclaimer: One piece and all it’s characters belong to Eiichiro Oda, I just like to write about them.

Warning: None

Rating: T (i guess?? there’s cursing)

Author’s Note: Whale, this is the first fanfic I’ve posted on the interwebs since high school so please keep that in mind, lol. I do plan to finish it sooner than later so check back in a few days if you want to read the rest, sorry I don’t have it all done right now. At long last it it FINISHED.

Feel free to tell me what u think! Unless it’s mean, then I ask that u keep those thoughts in ur noggin because I’m just writing these for fun not for grades.

Without further ado, here ya go.

Author’s Note pt 2: So i didn’t end up going the smut route like I originally planned, but I think it worked out better bc this one got nice and Emotional.

Summary: Zoro really shouldn’t agree to be Nami’s drinking partner if he wanted to keep their friendship from getting... Complicated.

__________________________________________

The moon was floating high in the night sky when Nami wandered onto the deck, unable to sleep even after a few hours of sketching.

She wanted company – specifically, she wanted the company of the crew’s resident alcoholic. It only took a few minutes to find him on the lawn deck with his back against a tree and his eye closed. ‘How typical.’

Nami smiled a small, excited smile as she strode over to him and squatted between his parted legs. An unconscious sigh left her nose as she swept her gaze up and down his face. She caught herself thinking, ‘He really is easy on the eyes isn’t he.’ ....again.

Who was she kidding? She’d been thinking the same thing every time she looked his way lately.

Two years ago she’d been able to keep the immature crush she had on him locked tightly away but somehow - it had gotten out and was slowly consuming her entire being.

Nami hoped he hadn’t noticed how often she invited him to drink with her because she didn’t think she could handle being rejected. So she settled for spending time alone with him whenever and however she could.

“Hey, moss-head,” the navigator said finally, leaning in to squint at him, “Are you asleep?”

He had literally just settled down for a nice cat nap when the navigator appeared suddenly to interrupt him. ‘Damn. What the hell did she want now?’

Instead of answering, Zoro chose to ignore her and pretend like he was deep asleep. ‘Why won’t she go bother someone else?’

Nami started prodding his cheek with one finger to rouse him if he really was sleeping, ”Zorooo wake up, I wanna drink,” she whined and his eyelid opened instantly.

‘Why’s she so damn pretty..’ was the first thought he had when he realized that she was a lot closer than he’d anticipated.

He mentally chastised himself after, trying to remind his id that Nami had never once indicated that she wanted to be anything other than friends and he should respect that.

But… There was no harm in looking from time to time was there? And she was pretty. She’d always been... ‘Oh for fuck’s sake, now he sounded like Sanji. He needed to get a grip.’

“Helloooooo,” Nami waved her hand in Zoro��s face until he snapped back to reality and snatched her wrist up, pulling it away. He scowled but it wasn’t deep, and now he was refusing to look her in the eye. “What was that about, huh Zoro?”

“Nothing.” The swordsman replied perhaps a little too quickly to avoid suspicion, “Thought I heard a noise, doesn’t matter – oi, didn’t you want to do something?”

He couldn’t remember what exactly it was. He’d been so distracted by the way her bangs framed her face and sometimes got caught in her eyelashes—’Damnit! He was doing it again.’

Nami smirked again but didn’t press the subject anymore. She’d do that later once they started drinking. “Weren’t you listening to me? You’re so rude, maybe I should find someone else to share my booze with.”

Was it a good idea to go drink with Nami when he kept catching himself thinking about feelings that he’d been suppressing for the last two years? Probably not…

But he couldn’t just decline an opportunity to get buzzed. ‘And... Maybe he wanted to get buzzed with Nami, specifically.’

Zoro scoffed, mostly at himself. “Quit playing games, damnit, do you want me to drink with you or not?”

“You’re so stubborn,” The navigator teased with a pleased smile that made his heart beat unevenly, “I could care less if you join me, but you’re not allowed to come unless you say you’ll be nice.”

“Nami. I am older than you, quit treating me like a fucking child or I swear-”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady who’s getting you drunk for free, Roronoa Zoro. If you can’t be nice then I’ll just add the cost of everything you drink to your debt and-”

Zoro didn’t have time to ruminate over the way hearing her say his full name made him shiver because he had to shut her up before she did charge him.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be... nice.” He hissed through gritted teeth and her answering giggle made his pulse flutter. He had to fight to keep himself from smiling. ‘What the hell was going on with him tonight? Was he sick?’

“Good boy,” she turned and started walking towards the Sunny’s aquarium bar, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure he was coming.

“Don’t push your luck, woman.” Zoro snarled to mask his confusion over the sudden need to touch her that he felt scratching at the back of his head. He really shouldn’t agree to be Nami’s drinking partner if he wanted to keep their friendship from getting... Complicated.

He knew it, but he followed her up the stairs all the same.

* * *

“Why d’you always want to drink with me anyway, witch?” Skeptical of her intentions, his narrowed eye fixed itself on Nami as she approached him holding two maroon tinted bottles. She offered one to him and he accepted it – but he didn’t let his guard down yet.

Zoro lowered his gaze to check the label out, whistling long and low when he read 23% alcohol per volume. A couple puzzle pieces clicked together in his head ‘Oh, that’s why. Because if she tried to drink this with anyone else they’d pass out after two glasses.’

“Would you believe that I just like hanging out with you?” Though her tone was teasing she was actually being genuine, she had a lot of fun with him whenever they went out.

“No–“ He paused when Nami kicked him in the shin hard enough to make him swear. Reaching down with his free hand he rubbed the sore patch of skin and glared daggers at his crewmate. “What the fuck was that for?!”

“You said you’d be nice, Zoro! So be nice or I’ll charge you a hundred thousand beris for that bottle.” Nami uncorked hers but waited to hand the corkscrew over until he behaved himself. The look he was giving her would probably frighten a small child but she didn’t flinch.

‘This was his choice.’ He reminded himself. Of his own free will he chose to get drunk with Nami instead of napping, and that meant dealing with her bossiness no matter how much he loathed it. ‘Sometimes he just wanted to grab her by the shoulders and make her shut up, there were better things her mouth could be doing anyway-‘

“Why do you keep staring at me like that, do I have a zit or something?”

Zoro sat up so fast that he banged his shoulder on the underside of the countertop. ‘What the hell was that? What the hell was wrong with him?’ He hadn’t even opened the damn bottle and he was already making himself look like an idiot.

“No,” the swordsman grumbled, wracking his brain for a believable excuse, “Just thinking about how I’ll owe you money even after I’m dead if you keep charging me for bullshit.” That made her laugh and Zoro cursed himself for how much he liked hearing it. “Don’t see how it’s funny for me, witch.”

Nami let him take the corkscrew from her, eyes crinkled with amusement while he opened his bottle. “You’ll just have to stay alive until you pay me back in full, I guess!” She trilled before taking a long, heavy drink from hers.

“Yeah?” Zoro snorted before mimicking her and downing about half of the wine in the container. It tasted disgusting, which he’d expected, but that didn’t make the bitter aftertaste any less miserable. His nose wrinkled slightly as he set the bottle down. “I bet even if I did try to pay you off you’d find a way to charge me more.”

“You make me sound so heartless,” the navigator batted her eyelashes innocently, pretending to look hurt, “Why would I ever do such a thing?”

“Hah.” He scoffed before chugging some more wine and failing to keep track of how much he was drinking each time. “Because you want to keep me on a leash since I don’t throw myself at you like that dumbass cook.”

An impish smirk crawled it’s way onto Nami’s face that made him immediately regret what he’d just said. ‘Fuck. Damnit!’

“So…” She began slowly, savoring every second that the swordsman spent avoiding direct eye contact with her, “You admit that you are one of my lap dogs?”

A muscle in his jaw flexed and he stopped drinking for one second to grunt, “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what I heard!” Chimed Nami as she rose from her seat, stepping over to Zoro and tracing a finger under his jaw while he drained the last few drops of liquid. “I should get you a collar, so people know who to bring you to when you get lost.”

Normally he would have snapped at her for poking fun at his sense, or lack thereof, direction but he wasn’t listening to her. She’d come close enough for him to pick up her scent and maybe it was the alcohol intensifying his feelings, but it was suffocating him in a good way.

He loved the way she smelled. Tangerines from her soaps mixed with salty seawater and traces of sunscreen. A hint of orange blossom, but only when she was close to him like this.

Zoro inhaled deeply through his nose and, without realizing it, his expression melted into something affectionate and gentle. ‘In two years she’d changed in so many different ways… but she still smelled the same. She still smelled like home.’

* * *

“What are you thinking about, Zoro?” Her voice void of it’s usual teasing tone, Nami’s curiosity was piqued by his sudden shift in demeanor. He looked soft and peaceful, like he didn’t have anything to worry about. She wanted to know why.

‘Ah, fuck.’ What was he supposed to tell her? That he was thinking about how good she smelled? ‘Yeah right.’ Zoro was quiet for a while, mulling over his words until he came up with an explanation that didn’t sound as creepy – but also wasn’t a lie.

“I guess..” he finally murmured, his gaze shifting to meet hers, “It’s just been a while and… I was thinking about how nice it feels to be back here, with everyone…” a brief pause then he added, “I missed you guys.” ‘Look at him being all gushy and emotional, this wine really was something else.’ Zoro reached to brush his fingertips by her temple, catching a stray lock of hair and tucking it behind her ear, “I missed you.”

When had Zoro ever been this honest with her about the way he felt? Never was the answer, but now he seemed to trust her well enough to know she wouldn’t spill his secrets. Nami took his face in both of her hands, surprising him, and pulled his head down so she could kiss his forehead. “I missed you too, Zoro.”

Something about hearing her say that she’d missed him too broke a dam in his chest that he’d been trying to keep together for two years. Hormoness flooded through his bloodstream quicker than Zoro could even process them and before he knew it he was practically throwing his arms around Nami’s waist and crushing her against his chest.

“Nami—” he pressed his face into her neck to hide the tears that he couldn’t hold back anymore. Sober he might have cared about losing it like this around her but she was here and… ‘He just – needed to hold her.’ Hold her and smell her and feel how real she was because she had almost been taken from him.

‘He’d barely begun to process what he had been through on Thriller Bark when they were attacked in Sabaody. If he tried to think back on it his memories would get hazy and his bones would ache from their very cores. He knew what had happened but it’s like his brain was protecting him from understanding how close to death he’d come. Then – to be torn away from the people he loved with all of his heart? Who he had just nearly killed himself to protect?

It had ripped him apart and rubbed salt into every wound. And it fucking hurt. The same kind of pain he felt when he saw Kuina dead on the floor of their dojo. He was scared, he was furious, he was devastated – all over again but this time it was so much worse. So, so much worse.

That was why he had trained so hard over the last two years. Because he couldn’t bear the grief that came with loving them so deeply – so he got stronger. And stronger. And stronger. No matter the cost to his body, he would become powerful enough to defeat anyone who crossed them. Then… He would never have to feel the agony that he did when he first woke up on Kuraigana Island ever again.

Taking on all of Luffy’s suffering in Thriller Bark had been the most physically painful experience of his entire life – but that was nothing compared to how much it hurt to think that his friends were gone forever, that he hadn’t been able to protect them.

Training made it easy not to think about what had happened -- but now he was home, and they were safe - and he was realizing just how close he’d come to losing all of them. At once. And he could do nothing to stop it.’

Startled by him grabbing her, Nami was prepared to give the pirate a good smack if he was getting handsy but… He started trembling. ‘Was he not feeling well?’ Her mouth opened to form the question then stopped. His breathing hitched while his entire body jerked and she realized…

‘Zoro was crying.’

Roronoa Zoro, who prided himself on his strength, was sobbing wretchedly into her neck. ‘He must have been holding this in since Sabaody.’ Nami’s heart ached for him and his stupid pride that forced him to torture himself instead of letting him cry like he needed to. She’d been expecting him to crash at some point, how couldn’t he? Even someone as strong as Zoro was still a human being.

One of her arms cradled his head while the other wound round his shoulders, her fingers combing gently through his hair. “Oh you sweet, sweet boy…” she spoke in the tone that Bellemere used to use when Nami and Nojiko were frightened by a passing thunderstorm. It always calmed her, maybe it would calm Zoro, too.

‘Quit fucking crying you loser you’re supposed to be a man.’ But he couldn’t, he literally could not stop because he was trying to. “I wasn’t strong enough,” his voice quivered at the edges and he hated it. ‘He was definitely never going to drink this kind of wine again ever. Not if it turned him into a blubbering mess like this every time.’

“Shhh, no. No. Don’t you dare try to blame yourself for what happened. Hey, look at me.” Nami urged his head off her shoulder and cupped his face in both of her palms, “None of us were strong enough, okay? Not even Luffy.” Each tear that fell she tenderly swept away with the pad of her thumb. The corner of her mouth turned up as she assured him, “But we are strong enough now. We can take care of each other. Nothing is ever going to tear us apart again, Zoro.”

‘She was right. Of course, she was right. He needed to have faith in his crewmates and his captain. They could do anything as long as they had each other.’ His breathing slowly evened out as he focused on anchoring himself back to reality. He wasn’t in Sabaody or Kuraigana – he was on the Sunny. In the bar, with Nami who had grown so much since he last saw her. The look in his eye softened like it had before his breakdown.

“You’re staring at me again, Zoro.” The navigator teased, her hands falling to rest on his shoulders. He hadn’t let go of her yet but she didn’t mind, he could hold on to her for as long as he needed.

A ghost of his usual smirk passed across his face. “Sorry, Nami…” Zoro took a little risk by leaning in to press a chaste but lingering kiss to her cheek, then traced a path with the edge of his nose to her ear, murmuring, “Wine makes me a little… Messy.”

#zona #zonami #zoro x nami #zona one-shots #zoro nami fanfiction #zonalove #zoro x nami fanfic

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crybabykiko · 4 years ago

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hi honeyyy can i have nsfw a-z alphabet for tsukishima please 👉👈? thank you 💞

I’ve had this in my inbox for like a month I am SORRY.

*deep inhale* TSUKKI FUCKERS RUN IN HERE AND GET Y’ALL JUICE

NSFW Alphabet: Tsukishima Kei

Gn!reader focused

Nsfw under the cut but you knew that...

𝕬 - 𝕬𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊

I actually feel like he’s not too big on this part. He will 100% do what he needs to make you feel comfortable if he’s been particularly hard on you, but he will do the bare minimum, simply because he’s not the best at being very soft. It’s just not him. I feel like he actually would prefer to be alone and recollect himself rather than cuddle and do pillow talk. That doesn’t mean that he won’t if you need it, he most definitely will because he knows how important it is. Just don’t expect to be babied.

𝕭 - 𝕭𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙

FINGERS FINGERS FINGERS I WILL NOT STOP SCREAMING ABOUT THEM! They’re long and slender- they always fit perfectly inside or around your neck or in your mouth and just... yes. Yes to his fingers.

For him, it’s all about the eyes. He loves looking at your eyes and the various emotions they convey to him, be it adoration, panic, arousal, devotion… he loves looking directly into your pretty eyes as he takes you.

𝕮 - 𝕮𝖚𝖒

In your mouth. I can’t explain why I’m right but I’m right. I don’t think he’s a fan of mess per-se, but from time to time he will want to cum on your face/chest for a lil ✨humiliation✨. I’m also positive he drinks water so when he tells you to swallow it won’t be radioactive or thick like tar. Good job to him for that. (God the bar is on the mf floor)

𝕯 - 𝕯𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝕾𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙

You caught him jacking off one time and he actually makes the prettiest noises- he’s usually pretty quiet with you but by himself it’s actually symphonic how desperate he sounds. He doesn’t know you saw him, but now you ONLY think about how his name spilled out of your lips each time you touch yourself too.

𝕰 - 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊

Has much more experience in theory than in practice. He’s VERY knowledgeable about topics primarily based on his own research. He can implement just about anything to your liking though, which is the real reason he’s a great fuck. He’s adaptable without sacrificing too much of his own pleasure.

𝕱 - 𝕱𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕻𝖔𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

This can go one of two ways imo- If he’s feeling lazy, he’ll sit in a chair and have you ride him. If he’s actually putting in work, he’ll hold one of your legs up/back (never both bc it’d probably kill you) or he’ll flip you into doggy, but he’ll make sure you keep your arch as low as possible, so you’re almost parallel to the mattress.

𝕲 - 𝕲𝖔𝖔𝖋𝖞

Lmfao no.

𝕳 - 𝕳𝖆𝖎𝖗

He’s very well groomed as well. His hair is darker than his blonde locks, but he prefers keeping it short and neat. Not completely shaven, but trimmed on a schedule tbh. Also never smells like ball sweat.

𝕴 - 𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖈𝖞

You would think a super sadist like Tsukishima doesn’t do the romantic gestures, but he does little things like making sure you’re stable and secure when he’s holding you up, or giving some VERY light praise when you take him well- you have to put attention or you’ll miss them.

𝕵 - 𝕵𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝕺𝖋𝖋

Tries his best to act like he doesn’t- but he does fairly often. Probably once a week tbh. He makes sure that he’s completely alone tho, because he’s very vulnerable and loud… also aggressive? It’s just a complete 180 from what he’s like with you and he doesn’t want you to know that. But he whines and whimpers the entire time, cumming in his fist and laying there convulsing.

𝕶 - 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖐

Sadism is the overall mf flavor. But we knew that. Let’s delve a little deeper:

Impact Play, yes very much. Likes spanking as a punishment, but will also slap you in the face from time to time, especially if you’re not answering him or being loud enough to his liking.

Temperature Play, prefers using heat over cold, so he would definitely be into wax. Also turns on the heat in your room when you’re fucking like it’s hot yoga or some shit.

Degradation/Humiliation, has you make messes on purpose, just so he can tease you about it later. Calls you mean names the entire time- but they’re peppered with the tiniest praises, he will follow pretty with cockslut, and such. Will ALWAYS refer to you as his “messy little bitch” without fail. It’s his go-to. Also a fan of “fucktoy” and “pathetic cocksleeve”

Auralism, specifically likes when your moans are choked out sobs, or when you work your voice so raw that it gets scratchy and hoarse. Likes to hear you in general, and will always ask you for a response. Also talks you through your orgasms with little things like “that’s it” and “keep cumming”

Dacryphilia, oh god he loves to see you cry. That’s the one thing that can make him cum almost immediately.

He also HATES a bratty sub. Needs someone who is very obedient. Likes to be called Sir.

𝕷 - 𝕷𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Literally ONLY in private. He’s all about control and knows that he can assert that control in every way possible in the bedroom. And even though he gets off on humiliation, it’s only when he’s the one doing it- proving he owns you without the threat of lingering eyes.

Would be the type to totally soundproof a room in your house tho, if you’re picking up why I’m putting down. Has gotten several “home improvement” project ideas from kinktok.

𝕸 - 𝕸𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

His goal is to break you. No matter how many times he’s done it before, he always wants to see that perfectly fucked out glassy sheen coat your eyes as they’re filled to the brim with tears- and complete devotuon and total submission to him.

𝕹 - 𝕹𝕺!

He is never going to submit to you. It’s just not going to happen. Give it up, deelishis.

𝕺 - 𝕺𝖗𝖆𝖑

Is not the biggest fan of going down on you, prefers using his fingers/other toys. But he LOVES facefucking you. Especially if he can make you cry with how much his cock is bruising your throat.

𝕻 - 𝕻𝖆𝖈𝖊

It’s mostly even. Mostly. He definitely will edge as a punishment, snapping his hips into you violently, only to stop completely just when your eyes start to roll back. He definitely likes to maintain control of his own orgasm though so he likes to keep a nice even pace if you’re not being a brat.

𝕼 - 𝕼𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖎𝖊

Wont outright fuck you in public but would use remote controlled toys on you. He prefers taking his time with you, building you up super slowly so that he can knock you the fuck down in an instant.

𝕽 - 𝕽𝖎𝖘𝖐

If you think you can try him, no you can’t. He will shut it down IMMEDIATELY. Again, he’s not one for super public scenes, so he’s good at keeping a poker face whenever you decide to get bold… but you have to be prepared because your punishment is either going to be super harsh or nothing at all- and I honestly can’t tell you which is worse when it comes to him.

𝕾 - 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆

It depends on how he’s feeling. If you’ve been good he’ll get right to the point but if you’ve been disobeying him then be prepared to have your sessions drawn out. He can go on edging you for hours and not feel a single thing. He can still last a relatively long time if he’s actually fucking you as well, a good 45-an hour before he even thinks about cumming. And that’s just thinking about it. He can still go a bit longer after the fact. He won’t cum until you’ve cum at least 2-3 times if he’s being nice.

𝕿 - 𝕿𝖔𝖞

He has a few toys that he likes to use as punishment, primarily small vibrators that he can put inside of you to have you coming undone before he even touches you. When he finally does, you're a wet, whining mess and all he has to say is that you’re pathetic for not being able to even wait for him to touch you.

𝖀 - 𝖀𝖓𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗

Hates being teased. Don’t even try or think about trying it. Doesn’t necessarily tease you either, at least not TOO much. Will edge you to hell and back though.

𝖁 - 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖚𝖒𝖊

Doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction of hearing how pretty he truly sounds, so a lot of his moans come out as long sighs and deep grunts that he catches in the back of his throat. And that’s only when he’s close.

He does talk a lot though, and is vocal in that sense- you’ll hear a lot of commands from him. You have to ask him for permission to cum, so there’s a lot of call and response when it comes to your sessions.

𝖂 - 𝖂𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖉

He has this fantasy where he’s essentially his partner’s sex toy master and you’re the toy, He would use remote-control vibrators to make you come throughout the day. You don’t get a say in when you come, it’s just whenever he wants. In front of your boss, on the train, when you're trying to go shopping, whenever. It’s equal parts humiliating and sexy for you both, because you can’t stop orgasming. You’re completely at his mercy.

𝖃 - 𝖃-𝕽𝖆𝖞

He’s a good size, a solid 6.5-7 with a decent girth. More of a shower than a grower and actually has a fairly pretty dick. Fair but even in color, suuuuper pretty and pink at the head.

𝖄 - 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌

Even though he’s about exerting complete control, and also the type to never let on that he’s needy, he is. His sex drive is slightly higher than yours... But you’d never know. He’s just that good at 1) covering it up, and 2) flipping the script to always make you seem like cockhungry one... asshole

𝖅 - 𝖅𝖟𝖟

No sleeping. Tbh I feel like he’s one of those people who actually gets a burst of energy after. But he’s not sleeping at all. He’s just gonna go back to his headphones or some quiet activities until you wake up.

Taglist Starseeds (check ur privacy settings if your url is in bold): @super-noya @crushzone @yumekosgamblingroom @boujiesav @onesingleravioli @ushijimasfarmhat @trouvelle @nekoma-hoe @right-shoe-jpg @makemealive @ukaic @nivky0-0 @animoozies @charmarsmith

#daisy’s red light district 🚨#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu headcanon #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu Tsukki #tsukki x reader #tsukki smut #haikyuu x gn!reader #hq x gn!reader #hq headcanon #hq headcanons #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu hc

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 4 years ago

Text

Witches, Chapter 29: something of an overdue talk, in a long overdue chapter.

Hey everyone! We’re back at it, hopefully, with a few orders of business.

First things first: I’d like to issue a small warning for a short discussion of past suicidal ideation that pops up during this chapter. Since this series is a retelling, generally most of you do know what’s coming up next and what we’ll run into and to brace ourselves for that. You know about the characters’ past traumas and future choices and know where that pops up, or if it becomes unexpectedly relevant or makes a new parallel, you did at least know in advance that it happened. Phoenix’s occasional oblique allusion to Edgeworth’s “choosing death”, for instance.

As this is not something quite like that and comes up more out of nowhere than usual, I just wanted to make sure that no one is uncomfortably caught off-guard. It felt like something different to me personally as I was writing - whether it’s going to strike any of you as different than other heavier material we’ve had in the past, I can’t say, but I’m erring on the side of caution today. If you’ve got any questions or concerns or anything you want done for content warnings in the future, please do come talk to me and let me know!

On two lighter notes: thank you all for bearing with me through the “oops all Fire Emblem only Fire Emblem” hiatus. It’s been a weird year, obviously. I’m hoping that I can carry on with room in my brain for both.

And finally: Happy UR-1 day! Today is, yes indeed, the exact day that Simon Blackquill is arrested for murder, and in honor of that, have a chapter where I mention him one (1) entire time.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches of Los Angeles Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

----

Golden Saturday-morning sunlight streams in through the blinds, lighting up the dust particles swirling through the air. The office is colder than Apollo expects for the end of October - colder than it was last year this time - and Phoenix is even wearing a sweater, the shining locket that Apollo hasn’t seen in a while hanging around the outside of the tall collar. “Morning,” Phoenix says, without raising his eyes from what appears to be a manila folder full of newspaper clippings he is perusing. “What’s up?”

Straight to business, then. Apollo is fine with that. He grabs the chair from his desk and drags it around, not directly in front of Phoenix’s desk, but near enough that it will be harder for Phoenix to ignore him.

“Is there any way to break a curse?” he asks, shoving his hands deep in the pocket of his hoodie. If it were this cold in a regular office on a Saturday, that would make sense; save money on heating bills when no clients are coming in. This is just - fae bullshit. The beginning of their seasonal tantrums. Winter only properly begins on the solstice, and Apollo really wishes that the fae of Kurain would respect the astronomical seasons. Stave off the snow until the end of December and end it in March. Don’t allow it to span from October to April.

Phoenix sweeps the scraps of paper all back within the folder and ducks down to set it inside a drawer. “If I knew a way,” he says, rising back up with the magatama in hand and setting it down on his desk with a hard clack, “do you think I would go around looking like I do? You don’t think I would’ve gotten this mess cleaned up a long time ago?”

He doesn’t offer Apollo the magatama for a refresher on what that mess looks like. Maybe he was just making a dramatic point with it. “Oh,” Apollo says, scratching the back of his head, faintly embarrassed by how obvious the answer is if he’d given it a modicum of thought from that perspective. “I guess not.”

“Right,” Phoenix says. “As my understanding goes, you can theoretically maybe mitigate a curse, if you layer another opposing blessing on. I am ‘lucky’” - he makes sarcastic quotation marks to ensure that the bitterness dripping from the word doesn’t go unnoticed, as if Apollo could possibly not notice - “to have known enough fae that I’m saddled with both Fortune and Misfortune, and Life and Death. But I’m also not certain that when you drop those on each other they don’t just each take their own separate niches. I’m not dead, but god knows when I try to go somewhere for a vacation or a day off, I still stumble across crime scenes like nothing else. Stunningly lucky in some aspects, and wildly unfortunate in others. You know me. I don’t need to elaborate too much, do I?”

Apollo nods.

“So that’s the theory, but I don’t think that helps anyway for your purposes, which - this is about Prosecutor Gavin?”

Apollo nods again. Phoenix sighs and rubs his eyes. “Shit,” he says, folding his hands together in front of his face and leaning his head against them. “I - believe me, Apollo, I wish I had some - I wish I had any way to help him.”

And Apollo does believe him. Apollo has to believe him, and believe that Phoenix means well, because he’d go crazier if he wasn’t reminding himself that Phoenix’s most frustrating decisions are born out of good intent. That Phoenix thinks he knows what’s best, but there’s still that old saying about good intentions.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Apollo asks. “You knew before this. You knew before he asked you.”

Phoenix raises his head. “And what does telling him get him? Secure in the knowledge that his brother - who is already in jail by the way, don’t need any more proof of his crimes, he’s already never getting out to be able to hurt anyone ever again - hates him enough to have wished him dead?”

Basically the same reasoning that Klavier had, but Apollo has a counterargument now. “Gives him time to come to terms with it before someone dies!”

“You don’t!” Phoenix slams his palms on the desk. Apollo flinches. Of course everyone is volatile and heated over this topic, but that doesn’t make it easier in the moment that it first gets directed at him from people who are usually frustratingly calm and casual. But Phoenix winces, lifting one of his hands and dragging his fingers through his hair, and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says, and repeats, much quieter, “You - you don’t. Or I never didn’t. I knew from right when it happened that I was cursed; I had three years between then and when Mia died - it - I could’ve had a decade, or two, and it - it wouldn’t have helped. I wouldn’t have felt any differently. Any more come to terms with it. With the thought that I - helped cause—”

His tongue heavy in his mouth, Apollo nods. “But - but wouldn’t it have been worse to find out right after she died?”

“Of course it would have,” Phoenix says blithely. “Of course that - this - is the worst possible alternative. Of course I would’ve said something if I’d known that this was what would happen instead.”

“But you have to have expected that someone would—”

“No, I didn’t,” Phoenix interrupts. “That’s not how this works. You know Klavier. You know how much he doesn’t say, don’t you? How much I don’t - you know what people like us are like. Who’s going to tell him? Sebastian forgets half the time that he even has the Sight. Kay only acts like she knows things. Prosecutor Blackquill spent until two days ago acting like magic isn’t real even when he knew we knew otherwise. Someone who means ill isn going to keep that information to use it, and not to just plainly say something.” He frowns. “Well, usually not. Unless they’re a clumsy interloper stumbling in somewhere they don’t belong and getting themselves fucked over for it too.”

“So other than Means just walking all over everything” - because he wasn’t immersed in this kind of fae etiquette, didn’t grow up in it, learned just enough to spot what he thought were opportunities and ruined himself by it - “you think every other random stranger is just going to respect all these - these weird little rules about what you don’t say?”

“Rules of engagement, basically,” Phoenix says. “Yeah, I do.”

“Prosecutor Gavin told me that you’re cursed,” Apollo says. “Don’t just tell me that’s - that’s the exception that proves the rule, or whatever.”

Phoenix’s expression, smug and trying to dampen that smugness back into something that respects the seriousness of the conversation, tells Apollo that yes, yes that is absolutely what his retort was going to be. Apollo considers screaming. “I’ve been tangled up in this for far too long,” Phoenix says. “I can promise you, I know the patterns. I know the way these things go.”

“And because you’re so much smarter than the rest of us, that makes it okay?” Apollo demands. “To take a gamble and just hope that it won’t go wildly wrong?”

And he wants to, really wants to add, I guess that’s what you do, just gamble with people’s fates, and he doesn’t, and Phoenix’s face still darkens like he knows, like he can read Apollo’s mind. Because every time Apollo ends up arguing with him, that’s always at the core. This playing card that haunts them both, burnt a bridge barely built, and they keep trying to balance on the ashen skeleton of it. “Just because Prosecutor Gavin is too fucked up about everything else to be mad at you for hiding this—”

“I did,” Phoenix says, voice low, eyes narrowed and dark as an evening’s storm clouds, “what I thought would be best, based on my prior experiences of both how curses don’t get talked about, and knowing exactly what it is like to personally live with knowing that I’m cursed. This is not something I want anyone to have to know how it feels.”

“So you think ignorance is bliss,” Apollo says. Klavier said that. Apollo wants to know how Phoenix takes that statement.

“I wouldn’t call it ignorance,” Phoenix says. “It’s not like he, or you, didn’t know what Kristoph was like until you found this out. You know the crime, the verdict, the sentencing - and everything else that Kristoph tried but failed to do. That Kristoph also wanted Klavier dead is only another small piece in the grand scheme of it all.”

Still the same argument that Klavier made; Apollo can’t imagine they discussed it. What brought them to the same conclusion? That they both have lived this strange specific kind of grief? This common ground that they share that is foreign to Apollo.

“Come to terms with - Klavier’s already got to come to terms with the rest of that,” Phoenix continues. “It was obvious during that trial how much Kristoph despised him. He knew that too. He knows that Kristoph ruined more lives than just the people he murdered - that he tried to kill more people than he actually succeeded at - cursed and tried to kill children because he couldn’t have - didn’t want anyone remaining who - who could - could… say…”

If Phoenix hadn’t faltered like that - fumbling and failing to continue, words petering out as he went back over what he just said, his eyes going wide and welling up with horror - then Apollo would have simply assumed that his thoughts were moving too fast for his mouth and he couldn’t keep them straight. It would have been easy to talk right through it, and Apollo wouldn’t think twice. If Phoenix hadn’t showed his own hand, gave the game away. Something too terrible for even seven years of professional poker to hide.

“Mr Wright?” Apollo asks, and Phoenix turns his head, glancing away away, no longer meeting his eyes when less than a minute ago he was staring him down with a cold confident glare. “What - what are you talking about? Vera, and - not someone else? Who else?”

Phoenix makes a tiny shake of his head, and even that little motion is a bright, distinct liar’s red. It lights up his eyes, too, when they dart down to the floor. “Mr Wright?” Apollo repeats. When would this have been? He casts his mind over everything he learned, just a little over a year ago, Phoenix sitting him down to explain seven years of information collected about Kristoph, what he’d done and how he’d tried to cover it up. He tried to kill Drew Misham to tie up that loose end; he cursed and poisoned Vera, two precautions because he wasn’t confident enough in the former, hoping that if she ever left the house she wouldn’t be able to speak to his identity and the forgery he requested. He killed Zak Gramarye seven years later to hide the same. He wanted to eliminate every link in the chain that connected the diary page to him. Its makers Vera and Drew, and Zak who knew he was the first attorney on the case, and then the page got to Phoenix via—

Via—

“Mr Wright,” Apollo says. His voice shakes. “He didn’t—”

“Promise me something, Apollo,” Phoenix says firmly. His mouth is drawn in a tight line but he doesn’t look stern. He looks more like he’s going to cry and is desperately trying to stop himself. “Promise me.”

“Wh - what? I can’t—”

“Promise me, Apollo.”

Not until you tell me what I’m promising, Apollo thinks, Apollo knows is what he should say. He’s been told this enough times; he’s aware of this on his own. Don’t agree to a deal before all the terms are set. Don’t sign the contract before it’s read thoroughly. Rules for lawyers and fae are the same. Just because Phoenix means well doesn’t mean that Apollo agrees with those decisions he makes; certainly not the one they have been discussing, and likely not whatever Phoenix is asking him to agree to.

“Please.”

The air in the office is so cold. Even the sunlight seems cold now. Apollo shivers, hunches himself up further. What does Mia think? Is this secret-keeping so natural to her, easy as breathing once was, because she’s fae and that’s what they are, liars by trick and by trade?

“Just promise me you won’t tell her until I do.”

His mouth dry, Apollo nods and croaks out, “All right. I won’t.”

He almost regrets pushing the issue,regrets ever asking Phoenix why he faltered. Phoenix sits slumped, his hands in his hair, and when he glances back up at Apollo, he looks so exhausted that it reminds him of Klavier last night. Burnt-out and broken, when it’s so rare for either of their masks to break. Rarer for Phoenix not to be positioning himself as the one with all the cards in hand; for him to fall apart, for Apollo to actually see him upset. “Yeah,” he whispers, soft enough that Apollo sits forward to make sure he can hear him. “Everyone involved in getting the diary page from him to me, Kristoph wanted dead, or to make sure he could silence them. Everyone who knew, even if she was - eleven years old, or eight. The girl who made it, and the girl who gave it to me. He fucking hated the Gramaryes. You think he didn’t jump at the opportunity to try and get rid of all of them that he could? That he wouldn’t cast a curse on each one who ever entered his sight?”

“And she” - Apollo’s voice cracks - “she doesn’t know? You didn’t tell her?”

“Shit, no,” Phoenix says. He sounds close to cracking, too, and when he drops his hands to his desk he starts shaking his head, his eyes scrunched closed. “Being a Gramarye has been goddamn enough of a curse for her. She lost all her family and then found out that her grandfather buried her mother’s soul in the woods because he was a monstrous son-of-a-bitch who deserved worse than getting to go out on his own terms by shooting himself in the fucking head—”

Apollo shudders. Phoenix had never before directly stated his opinion on Magnifi, but Apollo could definitely tell he held only disdain for the man. This, though, is more than disdain. This is positively venomous, and more than a bit frightening. Did he always feel like this, and hid it, or is this hatred something that has only come about since last year Trucy came back to the office with her mother’s soul in her hands?

“—so yeah, on top of that, I’m definitely going to tell her that the same man who killed her father cursed her just because of the accident of who her family is.”

“B-but—” Apollo doesn’t quite know what he’s arguing. He also doesn’t know where all of his prior conviction went. Of course Klavier should have been told - because he found out in the worst way possible - and Trucy - to take a gamble with her too - that’s got to be just as wrong— “Nine-Tails Vale,” he says suddenly. “We went there, and then there was a murder - that - that’s - is that like—”

“Like what happens to me?” Phoenix asks. “What happens with a curse? Yes. That’s how it goes.”

“And you - you’re not going to - to tell her? Ever? In case - in case something happens to her like with Klavier, or—” Too many thoughts are playing in his head, and the next one grabs hold of him and pivots him away from the point he was going to make about maybe why Trucy should know. “The concert,” he says. “When we went to the concert, Trucy and I, and Klavier was there too of course but that’s - Romaine LeTousse was murdered. They’re both cursed and they - wait, was Klavier cursed then? That was before…”

Did Klavier know when it happened? Did he tell Apollo? He’d said that Phoenix had seen him twice since the trial last October. Presume then that Kristoph cursed him then. The last time the brothers saw each other, and that doesn’t make one bit of sense.

“How could Kristoph have cursed him?” Apollo asks, and he doesn’t miss a momentary flash of panic that passes over Phoenix, his eyes popping wide for half a second and a loud, sharp intake of breath. “Klavier always has iron on him. He gave me—” He looks down at his hand, and then back up, to Phoenix’s lifted eyebrows. Apollo sticks his hand back in his pocket. “What’s the point in iron if it doesn’t actually save you from being cursed?”

Phoenix is obviously trying not to move. He knows Apollo is watching him, waiting for a twitch, anything to pounce on and draw an answer out of him. Staring steadily back at Apollo, he barely blinks; he rests his folded arms on his desk and his fingers curl just a little tighter into where he’s gripping his arm. Apollo is right to be asking these questions. He’s getting closer to something that Phoenix is hiding.

“Or it does,” Apollo says. The veins on the back of Phoenix’s hand flex from his grip. Apollo thinks about someone else with a tense hand and secrets. “And he couldn’t have been cursed then, at Vera’s trial, if it does. So then Mr Gavin hated him that much before then.” Phoenix blinks placidly, but he doesn’t adopt his lazy-eyed gaze. Too serious even for that. “And you lied,” Apollo adds. “You lied about when.”

Phoenix flinches. It’s just a tiny one, pulling his head back, the muscles in his jaw and neck tightening, but Apollo can’t miss the light show. Can’t miss that the lie is bleeding out of him.

He finds himself on his feet, not stepping any closer to Phoenix’s desk, just needing the height, just needing to move a little to stop the shaking in his hands and in his chest, a trembling that goes right down to his heart. “He knew already that he’s cursed! Why did you keep lying to him!”

“I didn’t lie to him,” Phoenix says evenly, but very quietly, and Apollo wants to go over and slam his fists on the desk and make him stop with these hollow justifications, make him face what he’s done couched in none of his winding words. “I just didn’t correct his assumption.”

“That’s lying!” Apollo shouts. “That’s still lying! That’s what happened in Mayor Tenma’s trial! Do you remember that? Do you care!”

“Don’t accuse me of not caring.” Phoenix’s voice is low, his eyes dark, staring up at Apollo. “I do care. I—”

“You don’t care about lying! But you do care about - what, about us? Doing this because you care, because you always know what’s best for everyone not to know!” Apollo throws his hands in the air. Phoenix’s brow furrows further, his jaw set tightly. “Never mind that Athena had a breakdown during the trial because Means hit her exactly where you were worried she would be! And you didn’t prepare her! Never mind that Klavier’s having a breakdown now because he found out at the worst possible time! When you could have told him! You know—”

“And if what he knows already hurt him this badly, then what do you think would be happening if he knew Kristoph cursed him years ago?” Phoenix slams his hands on his desk like he’s at the defense’s bench, pushing himself up out of the chair and onto his feet. “That his brother’s wanted him dead for that long? You think that’ll help anything, for him to find that out right now on top of all this? You want him to have that to come to terms with right now, too? I didn’t lie to him! He made an assumption that I didn’t correct because I’m not in the business of salting anyone’s wounds!”

He makes - a point. Apollo sees where he’s coming from. Why he’d do that. An additional piece of truth, yesterday the same as a salting of the wound. “But you don’t think he’s ever wondered if - if Mr Gavin resented him for that long? If he - if you would be setting something to rest, if you told him that. You can’t decide for someone else what they’re capable of handling.”

“Fair point,” Phoenix says. He sinks back down into his chair, and then motions to Apollo’s, suggesting he sit back down. “If he’d asked, I’d have told him. If he ever asks, I’ll tell him. I just wasn’t about to drop that on his head with him unprepared. Or if he asks you - I’m not asking you to swear silence to that. Shit, if you ever think that it’ll help him to know, then tell him - tell him you just found out from me, throw me under the bus and lie to make me look worse, that’s fine.”

Apollo returns to his chair, still not feeling any less like he wants to take a swing and see if he’s gotten any better at punching since last April. “You want me to lie now too?” he asks.

“I want you to use your best judgment about what he might want to know or be able to handle,” Phoenix says. “To not pile on more if he didn’t ask, if you don’t think he’s prepared. Like I said, when it comes to being cursed, I didn’t ever not know, and I know what the knowing is like. Yeah, I took a gamble that if I didn’t tell them then no one else ever would. That they’d never know, I hoped.”

He shakes his head and then leans it back against his chair, his eyes closing. “See, it’s not just grief, not at all. The woman who cursed me was someone I thought I knew. Though I’d known for a while. She had actually wanted me dead since we first met.” His eyes pop back open. “Eventually she tried to poison me, and when that didn’t work she tried to frame me for murder, and when that plan fell apart she just tried to kill me with a curse because she was pissed about it. She was a lot stronger than Kristoph, I’ll tell you that much. But Mia stepped in, and now I’m still alive and other people just drop dead all around me instead.”

He sounds almost like he is making a recitation, like he’s rehearsed it, scripted it. Apollo wonders if he’s ever told anyone else all these details, if anyone else lacking the Sight knows that Phoenix is cursed, and if he used this same script then too. He’s speaking about himself, something so personal, in a way so curt and crisp, so much more detached than he’s been speaking about Klavier, or Trucy.

Apollo nods numbly, unable to force his tongue to ask any of the questions he has.

“I could have come to grips with her hating me that long and that much - I could’ve come to terms with it and moved on. I was - well, I eventually became glad to know what she was. I could’ve been okay with all that. Eventually. If I hadn’t known about the curse. But I did and the - the knowing, the - Mia was murdered. Three years after she saved me. That long, thinking I could accept that I was cursed, and as soon as something really happened - I couldn’t.”

He presses his hands together and rests them against his chin. “And I couldn’t ever even just grieve her, because I had this guilt. That her death was my fault - I know, I know, some other man murdered her. He got to rot in jail for the rest of his life for his crimes, and he would’ve hated her whether or not I was cursed. For the things she did and because of what he was, and I had no part in any of that, but I was still - thinking, if maybe if she hadn’t ever taken me under her wing. If I hadn’t been around, maybe it would’ve been different somehow. Maybe she would have survived.”

The lights flicker gently and return dimmer and softer than they were before. Everything that gets talked about in this office, Mia hears; Apollo wonders if Phoenix doesn’t get sick of it sometimes, just want to say something without her offering input. Even if this is presumably well-meant, some attempt at comfort, the most a dead woman who can’t speak can give. Apollo exhales and can see his breath. He shivers again. “Why are you telling me this?” he finally asks.

“I want you to understand.” Phoenix rubs his hands together, a vacant look in his eyes, like he hasn’t quite realized why he’s so suddenly cold. “What it felt like, and what I’m worried about. If I’d told Klavier, or I tell Trucy - once I say something, I can’t take it back. That’s it, and they know, forever, just like I do. So I want to be sure that this won’t - I want—” He drops his hands and reaches over and picks up the magatama, idly spinning it around between his fingers. Apollo can’t remember ever seeing him this uneasy, this fidgety. “Klavier, especially, reminds me of myself when I was his age, and of a prosecutor I knew then, too. And that - recognition” - he gestures with the magatama clutched in his hand - “is not good, because we were not - okay.”

Apollo wishes he could remember with clarity all that Phoenix said to him about this time a year ago, about Klavier, about Phoenix being concerned for him. He does remember that Phoenix said something about some other prosecutor then, too, that Klavier reminded him of. Or that he was worried Klavier was going to end up like.

Phoenix inhales slowly, and says, “Six months after Mia was murdered - which was three, three and a half years after I was cursed, mind you - I lost someone else. I didn’t realize how badly he was doing - he did a good job at hiding it, and I didn’t know how to reach out. I was wrapped up in my own loneliness and depression, and then he was gone.”

He stops turning the magatama between his fingers, staring down at it for a few seconds, and then he resumes fidgeting with it. “I felt like I’d caused both of those. Couldn’t convince myself otherwise. Every other factor I knew there was, every single thing I couldn’t prevent or control, all these other things that other people did - I still thought that if I wasn’t cursed, then it could have been - just different enough that they would still be here.” He reaches up, brushing his fingertips across his temple. “Wouldn’t have been a fatal wound. Or wouldn’t have—”

He falters, staring past Apollo now, over at the window. This is the same thing he said about Mia earlier, about that sense of guilt, even knowing someone else murdered her. That he held some kind of responsibility, for a curse that seems to manifest itself as coincidence. Just coincidence, a little too often.

“They could’ve been okay, somehow, in the end, I thought,” he continues. “And instead, I was - I was there, I was still around, and they weren’t. And all I could think was that if I didn’t do something, then I would just lose the other few friends I still had - they would be around me, and they would die for it.”

“Didn’t you say that there’s no way you know to break a curse?” Apollo asks. From Phoenix’s solemn expression, he’s not going to suddenly say that there is a method, but Apollo has no idea what he is going to say. What that something he thought to do was.

“Right,” Phoenix says. “So I thought - only way to take the curse out of the equation is by taking myself out of the equation. I thought - as long as I’m not around - if I go and die, then anyone else who I love won’t. The curse will be gone, right, if death finally takes me. But the curse only seemed to hit other people, not me, so if dying was what I needed to do, then I…”

Klavier lying on the stage, wondering why it had to be Courte who died instead of himself. Phoenix’s dark, pained eyes, as he speaks again, finishes the thought in a voice barely above a murmur. “It made - made far too much sense to me, then. Was far too appealing a prospect.”

The question of what Phoenix won’t quite spell out catches sideways in Apollo’s throat, and when he tries to force it he just makes a soft croaking sound. Phoenix presses his lips together and glances away. “It’s a pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone,” he adds softly. “Klavier’s - he’s what, twenty-whatever? I was twenty-five when I—”

When Mia died, Apollo thinks, but that Phoenix doesn’t finish the thought, swallows hard and stares at his desk and says something else, makes Apollo think there was something even worse he could have said, with that implication he didn’t say. “And Trucy - she’s my daughter. I’m supposed to protect her. I took her in because I couldn’t live with the thought of anything else happening to her when I could bring her here, hope that Mia could somehow bless and protect her as much as she did me. But I can’t imagine just - I can’t let that happen to her. To suffer the way I did, to - to spend her life wondering if wherever she goes, someone’s going to die - the concert, Nine-Tails Vale, to ever - to think she can blame herself. Or that everyone she loves is better off without her. Or to—”

He blinks, fiercely, his eyes watering, and Apollo hopes he’ll never have to see Phoenix this close to tears again. Phoenix, cursed and trying - and in the case of Klavier, now failing - to shelter others from that same pain. Klavier, and Trucy, and—

“What about Vera?” he asks. “You explained to me, but did you ever tell her that she’s—” Phoenix stares at him, blinks slowly. Apollo squeezes his own eyes shut. “You didn’t tell her.” He’s unable to muster the same indignation he was before. He can’t really even bring himself to feel manipulated. Phoenix told him exactly that he was saying all this to make Apollo understand. Phoenix sought this reaction. But Phoenix’s chessmaster act has never superceded his desire to keep secrets before; there’s no way that Apollo can convince himself that this emotional vulnerability is all entirely a ploy to get Apollo to shut up. How many times has he refused to explain something and just left Apollo to stay angry about being in the dark? He has never been reluctant to do that. To just sit silent and lock Apollo out. To let Apollo hate him for his secrets.

He wanted Apollo to understand, intimately, whatever it took. So that Apollo would agree keep these secrets. So that Apollo would go along with him. And it might be concern that drives him - he cares, of course he does - but it’s still manifesting in the most infuriating ways possible. In well-meant silence.

“Would you want to know?” Phoenix asks, and that question at this time is an answer and confirmation in itself. “I know the truth is important to you, Apollo - I know it is to all of us.”

For once, Apollo believes he means it. He’d know it’s the truth because he can see when Phoenix is lying, but he’s actually convinced, this time.

“But,” Phoenix continues, “if you already know that the person who cast the curse hates you and is in jail for committing murder - already got to come to terms with that, or grieve that, or for someone else dead - you already know that truth. Would you really, honestly want to live with also knowing that you’re cursed?”

To possibly want to die because of it, like Phoenix did? Apollo opens his mouth. He wants to say yes, yes he would like to know, because that’s the truth of it and he wants to always know the truth, all of its facets no matter how ugly.

Doesn’t he?

He thinks about Nahyuta, about Dhurke, about trying to forget they ever were anyone, because that’s easier than facing the fact that Dhurke abandoned him, and they might both be dead by now. Easier than wondering whether they were human or fae or something else. He doesn’t want to know what they were. He wants to deny the dreams, to convince himself they’re nothing but the weird subconscious mash-up of memory and the fae horrors Clay has spent all these years warning him about. He doesn’t want the truth about his childhood. He doesn’t want to remember his childhood at all.

(Is it well-meant silence when he doesn’t tell Clay, or Trucy, or Klavier, about them? To not worry them about his life and his past? Or is it just cowardice on his part? Blissful ignorance.)

He closes his mouth. Thinks about the smile Trucy forced onto her face as she realized that Apollo was about to reveal to the court that her father Zak Gramarye was murdered six months before then. Thinks about how she couldn’t keep that smile forced when she found out that her dead grandfather took her mother’s soul for his own personal gain. Thinks about Klavier lying on the stage wishing that he had been the corpse there, not Courte. All the pains that truth has caused them. Is that better or worse than that alternative? Does it depend on what truth it is being hidden?

(He thinks about how long it’s been since he’s said Nahyuta’s name out loud. What color were his eyes in real life, and not Apollo’s haunted dreams? He doesn’t remember.)

“I - I don’t really know,” he admits.

The smug, victorious expression he expects never arrives on Phoenix’s face. There’s no satisfaction in winning this argument. “I’m sorry,” he says, closing his hand around the magatama. “I told you about Vera because it mattered directly for that case, but the rest of this - I wanted to shoulder it myself. So the rest of you don’t have to worry about it. I don’t want you to have to keep secrets from anyone. But I don’t know what else to do.” He forces a smile onto his face with visible effort that makes Apollo wince. Nothing masks the exhaustion written into the lines on his face. “Maybe we put our heads and together we figure out some better way to talk about it. If I ever figure that I should tell…”

He trails off, touching a finger to his locket. Tell Trucy. If he ever gains reason to think that he should tell Trucy. Would he actually run it by Apollo first, ask for his advice? The possibility of being in Phoenix’s confidence for something that isn’t a case doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.

“I still don’t think you should try and keep it secret forever,” Apollo says, “but I - I guess I see what you mean. And why you don’t just…”

Why he doesn’t just tell her. More reason that just because Phoenix doesn’t “just tell” anyone anything. For once, he’s not being a cryptic bastard.

“Believe me, Apollo,” Phoenix says darkly, “I’m always thinking ahead and trying to plan for the worst. I’m not naive enough to just hope that anything will stay one way ‘forever’. But I have to be sure I don’t make it worse, either.”

It isn’t the lack of a visual cue that makes Apollo believe him. It’s knowing him that makes Apollo believe him. Phoenix always has his eye on something down the line, playing out the plan a few steps ahead to find the complications. Even - especially - while he wasn’t a lawyer. A gambler’s steady hand holding the cards, chancing on an outcome, because the cost of doing nothing at all is even more unthinkable.

Apollo nods, more times than necessary, lacking anything else to say. Phoenix cocks his head. “Apollo, you all right?” he asks.

What the hell is he supposed to say - how the hell is he supposed to be? Fine? In what world is he possibly fine? At the end of this, he’s learned more than he ever dreamed he would from his sole initial question, but in it all, that first answer has never changed.

This is all there is. A rabbit hole of pain so unfathomably deep and winding, and in its darkest depths, the same as the answer given to him on the surface: there’s no way to break a curse. Their lives aren’t the kind of fairy tale where true love’s kiss can wake a sleeping beauty or transform a beast back to a prince - it’s grimmer than that, colder than that, crueler than that. Curses not so concretely visible but more like haunting coincidence, a ghost whispering at the shoulder with reminders of guilt. How could a man who wasn’t even there when the crime happened blame himself for his mentor’s murder? And yet, even after the killer’s confession, how could he not? How can even the curse’s caster be blamed when someone else wielded the murder weapon? And yet, how could they not share in it?

Apollo would rather someone have been turned into a frog, honestly. Wouldn’t that be easier to grapple with, a simple chain of cause and effect, and no ambiguity in who to blame.

“No,” Apollo finally says. “Not really, no.”

“I guess that was a bit of a stupid question, huh.”

Apollo nods. No kidding. What’s a better question at this point, anyway? Not what he says. “How - how can there really not be any way? For a curse to be broken, I mean.”

Phoenix spins his chair around, resting his head back against it, eyes turned up to the ceiling. Once he slows to a stop, facing the windows, he says, “I mean, maybe it’s possible there was, once, but it was forgotten. There’s a lot of magic that’s gone that way.”

He gives Apollo a moment to digest that, and then continues, “The Court’s heyday was thousands of years ago. They’re living ruins of what they used to be, and a fraction of what they used to know. Maya - you haven’t met her, she’s Pearl’s cousin - Maya’s helping me out with some matters by trying to dig up more about some kinds of magic they’ve forgotten the nuance of. But even that’s something we’ve got a hint that they knew, once. Not like—” He shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry. Don’t hold your breath waiting for a way to break a curse.”

“Oh,” Apollo says, somewhat surprised, but pleasantly so, that Phoenix said that much. It would be typical of him just to reiterate that no, there just isn’t any way he knows, that’s all, and to skip the explanation for fear of giving Apollo false hope. But thinking about the prospect of false hope is still easier than really, truly considering the meaning of what Phoenix just said - that this, that everything they’ve ever had to deal with in regards to the fae, could have be so much worse. They could do so much worse than all this pain they’ve ever wrought - they were once so much more dangerous than this, and now their Court is only ruins. This is what they are when they are weak.

“If I do find anything out, I’ll—”

Phoenix breaks off, rising up slowly from his chair, staring at something past Apollo, over his shoulder. Apollo twists around to look, not sure what he expects to see, but it certainly isn’t Vongole standing in the doorway, her head held high, her body much more solid than it usually appears, and stiller. The wispy fur at the back of her legs and off of her tail does not stir as though she is made of mist and surrounded by a breeze that affects only her; she could almost, in this moment, be a normal dog, but for her glowing eyes and her ears so bright red as though they were dipped straight in paint.

All the color drains from Phoenix’s face. He snatches up the magatama and springs to his feet, hurrying past Vongole to peer into the other half of the office. Apollo rises to his feet; if Klavier was here - if he heard what Phoenix was hiding - how Apollo promised to keep it a secret—

Vongole stares at Apollo. She doesn’t move. Phoenix reappears in the doorway, curling a hand in his hair, but his face has fallen slack with obvious relief. The claws curled into Apollo’s heart unclenches. “So then what are you doing here?” Phoenix asks the hound, whose ears fold back flat against her head, though her snout does not turn to shift her attention to Phoenix. She stares Apollo down like she will pounce. “Does he send you places or did you just wander here yourself?”

“You don’t know?” Apollo asks.

“You think I’ve ever had the chance to ask either Kristoph or Klavier about the logistics of their spectral hellhound?” Phoenix asks. Apollo tries to remember when he first started seeing Vongole. Whose ownership she would have been under. How soon after Kristoph’s arrest did Klavier come back to Los Angeles?

Despite her weirdly lanky proportions, like a regular dog was put on a rack and stretched out, Vongole always moves with grace, a predator’s prowl and elegance. A monster, but a beautiful one. She circles Apollo like she intends to herd him somewhere, like she is a shark smelling blood waiting for the moment to strike. “What—” Apollo spins too, trying always to keep her in his sight. She moves just slowly enough that he can keep up, but just quickly enough that he becomes slightly dizzy in his efforts. “What do you want?”

She stops. Apollo steps forward, trying to escape her circle, but she swings suddenly to the side, throwing her body up against Apollo’s hip. He expects her to fade through him, as she does walls and doors, but when she hits him he staggers with the force of her weight. And the cold - her body is cold and it reaches straight through his clothes, cold enough to burn, ice on bare skin type of burning, and Apollo doesn’t understand. He’s touched Vongole before, without problem, hasn’t he? Surely he has. What’s wrong with her? Or is something wrong with Klavier?

She trots over to the door, standing on the threshold, staring back at Apollo with her head aloft. He can’t bring himself to move, can’t unfreeze his feet from where they are riveted into the ground. Vongole presses her ears back against her head, lowering it so that her neck is level with her shoulders, prowling again, and she makes another circle of Apollo before again stopping in the doorway.

“I think she wants you to go with her,” Phoenix says.

She wags her tail, much faster than the usual low, wide swishing path that it takes. Apollo wrenches his foot from the floor and takes one step forward. Vongole bounds through the front room of the office, weaving between magic props tossed carelessly on the floor as though she couldn’t pass through them. And she stops and waits at the door, glancing expectantly back at Apollo. He fumbles his phone free from his pocket, finding no messages waiting for him; why would Klavier do something as cryptic as sending his faery dog to collect Apollo, rather than just calling or texting him?

Unless it isn’t Klavier instructing Vongole. Unless she’s acting on her own. Or unless Klavier is in trouble.

“You’d better go,” Phoenix says. “I can lend you the—”

“It’s fine,” Apollo says. He’s pretty sure that Klavier hates the magatama, and he found him fine without it last night. And he didn’t have Vongole guiding him then.

“Let me know that everything’s all right,” Phoenix says quietly. Apollo opens his mouth to ask what Phoenix knows, why he’s so sure that this means something is wrong - remembers what Phoenix said about himself and how Klavier reminds him of himself, long ago. Closes his mouth. Knows why Phoenix worries.

Phoenix always worries. He means well. His road is paved in well-intended worry.

“Yeah,” Apollo says. “I’ll - I’ll let you know.”

Vongole waits for him only to reach the door, diving through it as his hand reaches for the doorknob. He next finds her waiting beside the bike rack, her smoky fur drifting independently of the chill breeze, and as soon as he mounts his bicycle she lopes off down the sidewalk. She never looks back at him but is obviously monitoring him in some way, her pace changing depending on obstacles and traffic so that she always remains in his sight. He follows her through the quieter (relatively, anyway) city of weekend mornings, through his usual stomping grounds, to end up on the stoop of an apartment building that is - quite frankly, not as grandiose as Apollo would expect. He presumes this is where Klavier lives.

(If it’s not, then he’s far too deep into something that it’s also far too late to back out of.)

Vongole noses one of the buttons on the buzzer at the entryway and disappears through the door. Only seconds later, too quickly for her to have physically covered the necessary amount of ground, the door clicks to unlock. Apollo enters the lobby and before he has time to take in his surroundings, she appears in front of him. Literally appears - not bounding up to him out of a wall, but materializing out of the air, white fog swirling in circles around her ankles. She directs him to the elevator, pressing her nose into the button for the fourth floor and then several times in quick succession slamming her nose into the close doors button. “So were you always like that, or did you pick up your impatience from him?” Apollo asks.

She sits down and fixes her eyes on him. He doesn’t know what that means. He’s not sure why he bothered talking to her. She can’t respond - can she understand? Does she have some way to communicate information she hears to Klavier? Surely not - hopefully not, depending how long she was in the office.

She does not move until the elevator halts at their destination, and she springs to her feet and slips through the doors before they have opened wide enough for a fully-corporeal dog of her size to pass through. But when he makes it through, she meets him right at the other side, her impatience not taking her any further down the hall until Apollo can follow right at her tail. The walls are not cracked and peeling as in Apollo’s building, but they are certainly plain - again, very much not the kind of place he would imagine Klavier to live.

Vongole throws herself through the door of Apartment 404, and Apollo waits in front of it. A moment passes, and then another. Right. Even a faery dog doesn’t have opposable thumbs to grip a doorknob. He fails to swallow his apprehension but knocks anyway. There has to be a reason Vongole brought him here. He can’t just run away from it.

The seconds crawl past. Apollo reaches up to knock again, but the door swings suddenly open, and he flinches back.

Klavier’s hair is barely held together in a ponytail, strands falling loose around his face, and he looks even more like he hasn’t slept, going by the shadows under his eyes. And Apollo never thought there would come the day that he sees Klavier in sweatpants, but - he’s still alive. He’s still intact in one mobile piece, and he’s lucid enough to look annoyed. Apollo fumbles for words, any at all, but none arrive on his tongue. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He starts to raise his arm to point at Vongole, to blame her, and before he can, Klavier sighs, shaking his head, his apparent annoyance sliding into exhaustion, and he steps out of the doorway, pulling the door open wider, and gesturing for Apollo to come in.

[notes on the chapter]

#roddy fanfics #fic: the witches of los angeles

10 notes · View notes

kinsbin · 5 years ago

Text

First Date, Darling

Title: First Date, Darling Word Count: 5010 Pairing: Star/Kray [si/canon]

Summary: Kray asks Star, his personal assistant, out on an official date. She can’t quite belief it, but, there they are at a restaurant nonetheless! Romantic shenanigans ensue.

A/N: Commission for @starscloset!!! It was such an honor to write for them and I super loved doing all of this! Star/Kray is GOOD CONTENT PEOPLE UR SLEEPING ON IT-

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Star tried to figure out just how she got in this situation.

Try as she might, her mind was a miasma of events. A whirlwind of happenings rose and fall along the span of her memory as she attempted to pull it forward from the depths of her hippocampus, resulting in one or more headaches quickly quelled by Foresight state of the art pharmaceutical painkillers. The echo of her heel tapping sharply on the edge of the polished tile floors filled the void of her thoughts, the otherwise isolated hall of the Governor’s tower quiet save for the low humming of the lights overhead. They shone down their dim rays to reflect the circular perimeter of their bulbs back upwards at themselves. They were eyes staring at one another, unblinking and watchful overhead and below.

She was surrounded by those eyes, their presence making her as uneasy as being summoned abruptly to Kray Foresight’s office was making her.

The return thought of her location made a series of goosebumps trai up her neck as she bit her lip, the tapping of her heal increasing with renewed vigor as she tried to ease herself into entering the office. The summons had been an abrupt call on her phone during one of her lunch periods, the fork she was using to spear her food held mid lift to her soft lips as she read the ominous text that had brought her up to where she was. From Kray’s private number and in all lower case letters (odd, considering he usually typed as formally as if he were writing a letter) were the summoning lines that would bring about the anxiety she felt in her stomach all the way up to the top floor:

star please come to my office as soon as you are available we need to discuss something

She reread the text several times both in the lobby and on her way up, her hand shaking as she arrived at the door, where she stood now with her teeth worrying at her lip. Had she done something wrong? Was she about to be fired? The mere thought of that made her heart clench tightly in her chest, her stomach filling with a horrible sensation of acid that made her want to vomit up the chicken she had so hastily scarfed down on her way to her (possible) demise. What would she do if this was the end? If it wasn’t… then what could she possibly be needed for?

Her mind pushed itself forward, a deep breath as she reminded herself of her faith in Kray. She had put her faith in him from the moment she was hired and it had never failed her now. From the moment they had begun their work together she felt safer. At ease in his presence and happy at his side… Warm, even though the admittance brought a blush to her cheeks. Whatever the reason was for his summoning of her, she was certain that it would not be bad. She would not lose her faith in him now.

Forward she went, her steps forward activating the motion sensing door frame so that it slid open fully, revealing the beautiful view of Promepolis from far above.

In comparison to the bright outside world the room was dark, but it wasn’t cold. The perfectly heated internal temperature was set to be comfortable to most living within the facility. Its regulated degrees were relaxing enough to soothe the upstart of hairs on the back of her neck as she watched Kray from across the room.

He was standing up from his desk, his back facing her as he stared downwards at the city below him. The broad form of his shoulders and tapering torso cast an even darker shadow across his entire office space, the edge of it landing at her feet in way that made him seem so… far away. So distant despite being across a room from her. She wanted to reach her own hand out and hope that her shadow would cast itself along the edge as well, touching at his body and comforting that distant shadow of his… why was it so distant anyways, she wondered? What was its point, she thought…

“Star.”

His voice brought her back from the momentary daydream she had put herself into, her entire form snapping to attention at the voice that echoed. Hands at her sides, she blinked a few times as her hair settled back into its normal position, having fluffed up slightly like a bird alongside her emotions as she all but shook in her intonation towards him.

“Y-Yes, Mr. Foresight!” Her tone was automatic in its incantation, a natural instinct to please her boss filling the softness of her lilting speak with practiced ease. It was her job, after all. To be soft. To be at his side. To make sure she was non threatening to him so that he might allow her to do the work that was assigned to her.

When he finally faced her fully, the smile on his face was almost as blinding as the sun, its curves so perfectly in place on his lips. His gaze squinted and soft in her direction. The look of pleasant adoration made her heart leap, as it always did, and she tried to force away the growing blush on her face as she attempted to keep her eyes level with his. Her fingertips shook as she tried to keep them in place, fists clenching and unclenching on her sweaty palms.

“Star,” His voice was careful as it was reprimanding, “How many times have I told you to call me Kray when it’s just the two of us?”

She smiled despite herself.

“At least one more time today, Mr. Foresight.”

He chuckled at the banter, playful and soft in its demeanor. As though they were talking about the weather. A single gestured of his gloved hand ushered her forward and closer to him. Her compliance was quick and unhesitant, her body moving towards him so that the edges of her shoes clicked softly on the tile with resonating purpose. Her previous panic gestated in the bowls of her stomach while the comfort of Kray’s presence blossomed over her with a brightness the likes of which she couldn’t describe to anyone if she tried. It was simply… How he was, after all.

“I called you in today to ask you a question,” He stated once she grew close enough to the opposite side of his desk to deem it a polite speaking distance. He closed the rest of the distance, however, his body so eerily close to hers that she had to crane her neck to look upwards at him. How beautiful he was when he towered over her like this, she thought mildly as she bit back a smile of appreciation. His form was an adonis amongst men and she had to be blind not to appreciate the build she was with on a near daily basis, the normalcy of day to day activities doing nothing to soften the admiration.

Hey, she wasn’t blind.

“You can ask me anything… Kray!” His name was strange to say in the lax of professionalism but she tried her best. It brought a sweet smile to Star’s face as she looked up at him, her beautiful doe eyes focusing on his form with such an intensity that Kray could feel his own blush of surprise wander its way up his cheeks. He didn’t look away, though.

“Star…” That sweet tone of his voice made her tense for a moment, curious as to where it would lead. He seemed so uncharacteristically careful as he licked his lips for a moment, pursing them before finding the next words that would fully display the desires he had towards her. The intentions of his motives clear in each syllable as he worded it as easily as he possibly could:

“I’ve found myself… favoring your company in more ways than one lately. Greater than a professional relationships… And I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t let it sit any longer within me. I would… It would make me happy if we were to go on a date together, if you’d like it. Officially.”

She could scarcely hear the words above the ringing in her ears. Above the redness in her face as she stared in awe at the man before her, her stomach swelling with something between pride and shock as she tried not to shake in the spot she was rooted in. Was he… serious? Was this some sort of test? Star searched through each point of his face, finding nothing against the chiseled jawline and sweet smile that he offered down to her with a tilt of his head. His brows knit ever so slightly together in worry as her hesitance filled the space between them, a gap of silence where a response should be as she watched his face with her jaw slowly falling agape.

“I apologize if this is sudden,” Kray’s words were soft as he reached out, his hand finding her cheek where it gently grazed her skin. Despite the coolness of the gloves he wore, her body felt like fire as she watched him continue to speak, “I… simply cannot ignore the feelings I have for you any longer is all… If I’ve misread something in you and you don’t feel the same way, you have my apologies and-.”

“No!” She blurted the word out faster than she thought was possible, her hands flying outwards to cup his own between them and bring him closer again, the once shocked gaze in her face becoming as determined as it was awed. The shift in her demeanor practically put a halo of light around her hair, emphasizing the beauty of it and the passion with which she seemed to speak as she watched him with those beautifully soft eyes of hers. Kray almost startled back slightly, his lips parted with an awe to the suddenness of her oncoming determination.

It left as fast as it had appeared, however, her face heating up as she averted her gaze. Star’s eyes narrowed for a moment as she tried to get the words out from between her lips without becoming too embarrassed, the curve of her mouth a slight pout against her skin as she squeezed his trapped hand tighter with her own.

“I-I mean-! I just wasn’t expecting it was all but…” She smiled slowly, light and happy as she gazed up at him once more, “I’ve felt… I want to spend time with you too, outside of work! A date with one another… I would be happy to accept, Mr. Foresight!”

He stared down at her, watching as she found her mistake amongst her excitement and she blushed, flustered as she threw her hands in every which way in an extra effort to correct herself:

“Ah, I mean Kray! Kray, right, I’m sorry!”

He laughed, the sound soft and warm in the back of his throat. It was more of a chuff, soft and malleable like a tiger as he watched the woman before him radiate with excitement. She glowed with a beauty that only seemed to increase the longer they spent time together. A side effect of his presence against her personality, their differences like night and day but so perfectly fit against one another that it made his heartbeat quicken without his permission. It was that sort of thing that always made him confused as they spent time together. Estranged as he felt his own flames fanning against his will for her.

He wondered if this was love. He considered that it must be, for no other woman could look at him like that and have him see the stars that he did.

She was his Star, after all.

He leaned forward, his lips finding the top of her forehead in a long, gentle press of a kiss. Star went rigid under the motions, her eyes blowing wide as the smile against her mouth couldn’t help but climb its way up. This was happening, she registered finally in the back of her mind. Through all of the things they had been through together, rough and easy and bad and good, he was kissing her head like this. Intimate and soft and so completely vulnerable to her and her alone that she felt her chest swell with pride, her brain etching the single memory in a valuable placeholder for as long as she might have it there.

“Does tonight at seven suit you alright?”

She couldn’t hide it as she smiled even wider up at him, his lips parting from her body to ask the question though she wished they could stay there for eternity.

“Yes, that’s perfect.”

---

Star stared carefully at herself in the mirror of her bathroom, lips pursed as she judged the shade of lipstick decorating their edges. The soft, semi nude shade made the already warm edges of her mouth look Fuller than before. They sparkled, glossy and clear and oh so peachy, in the brightness of her home.

But what would Kray think of it? Would it be too much? Maybe it wasn't enough? Her mind worked at a million miles an hour, causing her to let out a long sigh if exasperation and reach for what was possibly her fourth makeup wipe that day.

Cleaning the lipstick from her mouth, Star had to take a moment to gaze at the outfit she had chosen for the night. A white dress, lined with peach and pink laces that cascaded outwards like a cloud close to her bottom. The thin straps upon her shoulders were hidden away by a thin but tasteful lace shawl. It was one of her finer outfits, she admitted to herself. Even though the shoes were borrowed from a friend and one size too big, they brought the entire thing together.

Well, almost. There was that damn lipstick.

She threw in the towel and pulled out the shade that normally decorated her mouth on an average work day. The reliable semi-nude peach always seemed to make her feel more at ease. Perhaps it was just a memory of it's repetition. There was safety in it's embrace. A beauty so consistent in it's reliability. She could only hope that Kray didn't mind it and wasn't lying about tolerating it for the past years they had been working together.

A knock on her suite's door startled her from her contemplation, her head turning so fast that she almost hit the open medicine cabinet with her temple in the process. A strangled gasp of surprise saved her as she scrambled for the door, her palms sweatier than she had thought they might be, and opened it slowly.

Kray towered against the frame, making the expensive wood that lined the edges of the door seem cheap when compared to his expensive suit. It was the same signature shades of white and gold as his governor's outfit was.The elegant way in which it fitted him, displaying to her the form of his muscles and arms in the process, was eye catching. She felt so mall in comparison to his form, the massive being that he was always towering over her in one way or another. Still, they coordinated in an odd way and that could only bring a small smile towards Star’s lips despite the shock of seeing him so fancifully garbed in front of her doorway.

“Good evening,” Kray greeted with his own, slightly excited, smile. It was cute to see the amount of emotion making its way across his face. So rare was Kray Foresight open to displaying himself so vulnerable in front of anyone that it made Star’s heart leap at the mere sight. She wanted to take a picture and keep it in her home forever. To frame it up on a perch next to her bed and admire him as she readied her nightly routine.

Star focused back on the moment at hand, not being able to stop the smile that spread on her lips as she shyly watching him through the frame.

“Good evening, Kray.” She greeted back as she opened the door fully to reveal herself, exiting her apartment with a quick grab at the smooth white mini purse that accompanied the entirety of her display.

A hand fell from behind his back, offering out a modest bouquet of purple orchids before her. Each flower sparkled in the light, their petals stained with dewdrops as they displayed themselves fully to her. Star gasped as she looked downwards, each beautiful purple bud making her heart beat fast as she reached out to touch the wrapping around their stems, holding them close to inhale their sweet fragrance. She felt as though she could cry there, the fact that he brought them as well as the fact that he had remembered her enjoyment of both color and plant making her delighted.

When she looked back up at him from her boquet, she was beaming.

“You shouldn’t have! This is so sweet, Kray, I appreciate them so much- oh - they smell just wonderful! I should put them in water before we go…”

Kray felt his cheeks redden at the sight of her, so beautiful in the white she wore and so vibrant in her personality as she always was. Star was a true beacon in the world that he found so unpleasant, he couldn’t deny that. She was radiant as her name suggested as she adjusted the edge of her shawl haphazardly and took a deep breath. Her smile up at him was caring, the same amount of care that she always put into her admiring eyes when she gazed up at him. It was only then that Kray realized how much she genuinely looked at him. How much her emotions were always written so beautifully across her soft face.

He didn’t resist the temptation of cupping her cheek with one large hand, making her tense in surprise as his thumb brushed across her chin and lower lip. He smiled soft as he admired the redness that formed in her cheeks.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured in an honest, sweet toned whisper of disbelief. As though he wasn’t ready for how smitten he truly would be by her.

Perhaps he wasn’t.

Star brushed some of her hair behind her ear, eyes falling to the floor as she smiled.

“You look quite handsome yourself.

The words filled him with a pride that manifested itself in the form of a bubbling laughter as he removed his hand from her and offered it, palm up, instead so that she might take it. She did, her smaller fingertips gentle on him as he held her close and brought her to his body with all the confidence Kray Foresight seemed to have within his form. He exuded it, softly but surely, and it made Star feel safe and loved all at once, the method in which he brought her towards him making her head spin as she bit her lip to hide the next smile that wanted to claim the softness of them.

As they moved through the halls of the building, the world felt like a dream. Even as she stepped out of the building and into Kray’s expensive car nothing felt real. The world was a miasma of happiness, ever changing but never a solid form in her life. Star couldn’t find it in herself to mind, though. If this was a dream then, damn, she certainly didn’t want to wake up. Not as Kray’s hand held hers firmly even when they entered the car, the warmth of the seats traveling up her back as his body radiated its own furnace of comfort at her side. She adjusted herself so that her shoulder would touch his arm gently, all but bathing in the comfort that the closeness offered them. Star shut her eyes for a moment and sighed, content. Kray watched her as she did, his gaze fixed on her as the ghost of a smile touched his lips.

Their talk shifted in the car, from projects of work to more personal topics. The end discussion of why their favorite color was their favorite color was trivial but easy to bring up back and forth as the two discovered just how well they made for debate partners on either end. Kray defended his enjoyment of white, a pure and untouched form of ironclad beauty while Star spoke easy about her own enjoyment of the shade of purple. The conversation never rose above a whisper, the tones relaxed and intimate even as they pulled up to the restaurant Kray had declared he had chosen for their relaxing evening out.

Its front was italian in stylature, the corinthian columns fading upwards to a tympanum of beautifully done architecture reminiscent of the ancient renaissance style. Lithe fingers of angels touched at one another while halos of painted gold were emphasized by glowing lights behind them, faces boring into one another’s soul as the story told appeared different to each person who walked by.

Star stopped for a long moment to admire the decor, her heart pounding as Kray’s hand found its way to her back. His large palm rested placidly on her spine, the touch sending another shiver up her entire back as she averted her gaze from the decorum to the man at her side.

Yes, she decided after a long moment, he was much better to look at.

“Shall we?” He smiled, his voice clearly amused by the gaze she held as he held the door to the restaurant open for her.

Her hand touched at her chest, just over her heart, as she smiled up at him.

“Why yes! We shall!” She giggled back, entering the door as she did so. Kray stood for a moment, his gaze dumbfounded by the beautiful sound that was her soft laugh, so warm and bell like in his ears that he never wanted to forget it. A moment passed before he was able to collect himself enough to follow after her, his smile still even as they entered.

Their seats were perfectly within the restaurant, bushels of plants and sweet smelling flowers blocking them from public view. Star knew all too well how the media would bend over backwards against themselves for a bite of a story that involved the elusive governor’s private life. As a keeper of his public persona, she was aware that fending off a multitude of grabby paparazzi was as exhausting as it was a game of calculation. A habit of staying two steps ahead of those who wanted their information and smiling smugly at them when they could not get it. It was a game of cat and mouse that she would secretly get bored without and, Star felt, it was a nice way to pass the time at least.

Star sighed as she opened the menu that had been put out in front of her, only to immediately close it and slam the piece of laminated plastic down with a wide eyed gaze of disbelief.

“Kray this place is-!”

“Beautiful? I know,” He smiled, his tone teasing as he was well aware of the actual word daring to fall from her lip as she leaned forward.

“E-Expensive! Are you sure it’s alright for us to be here? Wasting all of this one me is-”

“It’s not a waste.” Kray’s tone was sharp. It left no room for debate in his heart as he tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady on her face as he reached outwards. HIs hand found her own trembling one and gave it a firm and loving squeeze, mouth curling up into a smile.

“It’s not a waste when it’s to spend time with you. You deserve the best and that’s what I will give to you. There’s no arguing about it now, alright? So, please, get whatever you want and I’ll do the same.”

She couldn’t find the breath to argue back.

Instead she hid behind her menu as she ordered her food, a nice and simple dish that she would still find an immense joy in while Kray seemed to go all out with his steak and seafood medley. Lobster decorated with prime rib meat and spun about with a light sauce, asided with a heaping helping of vegetables for good measure… Star couldn’t help but drool slightly at the sight of his food, her eyes following his hands as he cut off a piece of lobster to eat.

Sensing her awe, however, Kray smiled and held out his fork to her.

“Here, would you like to try?”

“Oh! Um…”

Star smiled wide, biting back the laugh of enjoyment she got from the situation before nodding and leaning her head forward. Her mouth opened, perfect pink lips forming the softest ‘o’ shape before she bit down on the fork full of delicious food. The flavors exploded in her mouth, the world spinning around her with its buttery richness. The galaxy seemed to bloom in the back of her mind as she chewed, her heart racing at the deliciousness of the single bite she had experienced. Kray watched all of the emotions spread across her face inch by inch, the shape of her mouth and the red of her cheeks drawing forth on her feelings like a curtain. Long and endless in its display of beauty, he sighed slightly to himself as he watched her enjoy his food.

“You should have ordered it yourself.” He commented with light amusement.

“But this pasta is also really good!” Star protested as she took a bite of her own pasta, nibbling on the end of the chicken within it as she smiled through her own fork, “I just think it’s some sort of significant other tax that your food tastes better than mine.”

“Significant other?”

She stared at his surprised look for several seconds before her own horror dawned on her. The realization of what she had said, what she had IMPLIED, was permanent in her mind as her body deflated for a moment in acceptance of the words. Star choked slightly on the pasta between her lips, coughing as she held out her hands and blushed vibrantly.

“N-No I mean-! I didn’t mean to rush into it and-! It wasn’t supposed to come out like that I promise I was just trying to-! I swear-! Ohhhhhhh…. “

She ended on a bemoaning wail, holding her face in the palms of her hands as she tried to hide away from the world. To push the embarrassment away in favor of burying herself ten feet underground and never coming out. Let the magma at the earth’s core consume her, she thought with a bitter wheeze to her indignation, she didn’t care anymore. It would be a welcome death over what was going on here.

She felt his hand again though, warm and large as it ever was, touch at her arm with the gentlest of movements. “Star, please look at me…”

His voice was so soft, the tone a gentle coercion that made her want to listen. Star hesitated for only a moment before she peeled her hands from her face, peeking between the tips of her fingers as she opened up a singular eye to examine the face of the man before her. Kray simply watched her, his form patient and kind as he waited for her to be comfortable. As she uncurled herself from her shell in order to reveal herself to him. It was something like putting down crumbs for a timid mouse and letting them approach him, Kray mused. It would be terrifying to the mouse to approach a lion such as himself, so patience was necessary in promising no harm would come to her. Which it wouldn’t, of course, because… well… She was Star, wasn’t she?

When she finally lowered both of her hands down, simply placing one of them atop of his own, the room was quiet for a long moment. The distant clangs and clatters of other diners paying them no mind filled the void of their quiet communication, a long and thoughtful sort of moment they shared despite the awkward conversation that had ensued not a moment earlier. Star could feel the uneasiness fading away with every moment they were touching. Every second they were connected made her heart thrum faster and faster. She felt like a wind up toy, being pulled taught to its gears and then let go to hum and thrum accordingly to its movements. Only her movements were wide-eyed stares and slightly parted lips to ask a question that never fell from her lips fully.

Then he leaned forward. Then the world moved in slow motion.

Kray’s lips were softer than she had thought they would be, the kiss gentle and careful in its exploration. It never pushed too far. It never moved too fast. It was simply his warm, soft lips on hers as her eyes widened for a moment in shock. He was kissing her! He was kissing HER? He was… kissing her…

And her eyes fluttered closed, the quirk of a smile finding its way on the edge of her lips as she kissed him back. He tasted like ash and the flavoring of the butter on the seafood he had eaten not moments before, an odd but pleasant combination that reminded her of a cookout in the summer. It reminded her of being warm and surrounded by care and safe above all else. Kray could taste the flavor of Star’s lipstick on his own mouth, a sweet strawberry gloss that matched the perfume she had worn and he wanted to devour her there and then.

Instead they parted, their lips lingering close to one another as they mourned the loss of the intimacy they had adjusted in themselves. Still, Kray smiled. He never faulted, as Kray never did, and squeezed her arm gently.

“I wouldn’t have invited you out if I didn’t want this. You… are beautiful. No matter what you call me, I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine.”

She fought back the tears of appreciation as she smiled, the glimmer of her moist eyes diamonds in the candlelight as she gave a quick nod and laughed through them. She spoke the words he most wanted to hear from her. The words that made his heart quake in the intimacy and his breath disappear amongst the chatter as she reached out to hold his hand gently in return, the reaffirming squeeze only echoing in her words:

“I’m yours.”

And it was that, Kray was sure, that made this night perfect.

#kinley talks #COMMIssion #commission work #kinley writes #promare #kray foresight #promare oc

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marystudies · 6 years ago

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A LONG ASS LIST OF TIPS FOR HIGH SCHOOL: FRESHMAN TO SENIOR YEAR LETS GO

Disclaimer: This is just from my experience, so these might not all apply to you!

Freshman Year

ok, ok, freshman year can be scary but don’t let that get to you

dont worry about upperclassmen being rude/teasing you

it’ll most likely happen, but I’ve never seen an upperclassman tease a freshman with the intention to really hurt them

one day you’ll be them so dw

on the topic of upperclassmen, make some older friends!!! (through classes, sports, etc.) it’s so nice to have someone give you tips and help you through high school

dont expect your friend group to stay the same lol

BUT ITS A GOOD THING I PROMISE YOU

I was scared of changing my friend group, so even though I wasn’t being treated too well, it wasn’t until senior year when I really made a change and I wish I did it earlier

be open to meeting new people, everyone is scared just like you and looking for more friends

I don’t think its neccessary for freshman to become sUPER involved in clubs and all that but at least get a feel for whats out there

try out for a sport if you play one!

this goes for all of high school, not just freshman year, but I regret not being as involved as I could’ve been

Go to school events like football games and dances! School spirit is considered weird in middle school but its cool in high school

take your classes seriously, your teachers are right - high school is much harder than middle school (but it’s not too bad if you stay organized!)

my freshman year GPA was my lowest like english really caught me off guard (properly formatted, 5 paragraph essays being 50% of your grade??? a concept.)

so my cumulative GPA was brought down

I think most freshman don’t have access to AP classes to boost your GPA or anything, but if you’re looking to push yourself take an honors class or 2! (if available)

Sophomore Year

wooohooo ur no longer a freshman

I’d take at least 1 AP class if you can

my sophomore year I took AP Human Geo - which I really loved, and it also wasn’t too hard

a lot of sophomores take AP World which is a BITCH of a class

BUT I wouldn’t recommend taking Honors World because you don’t get the GPA boost, you don’t get college credits (unless you take the AP Euro test or something), and it’s almost just as hard

this is a bit random - but when you’re taking Algebra 2 (which was my sophomore year) PLS PAY ATTENTION math builds on itself don’t fuck yourself over

take the PSAT if you want (I honestly don’t remember if I took it freshman year too but eh), but seriously its not required

start thinking about college (I know it’s the last thing you want to do)

just little things like

when do I want to take the SAT/ACT?

would I like a small school or a big school?

What will I be able to put on my college applications?

like if you do community service through a club/church/etc then great!!! sports? YEs

can’t think of anything? Join a club! Try out for a sport (it’s not too late) Find something that interests you

you’re probably pretty situated socially now but never be afraid to get to know those classmates/”school friends” better!

Junior Year

so junior year is commonly thought of as the hardest year of highschool

which is partially true (we’ll get there later)

but anyways, seriously buckle your seatbelt and get ready to work your ass off because THIS YEAR COUNTS, LADIES AND GENTS

Take AP classes if available

I took AP Psych (WOULD HIGHLY RECOMMEND) and Honors PreCalc (coming from regular Algebra 2)

Psych gave me college credit and a GPA boost

HPC gave me a GPA boost for UCs

It was a bitCH of a class but it made AP calc a breeze

If you haven’t started already, start prepping for SAT/ACT and then take them

tutoring is very helpful, but it can be expensive

I’ve seen studyblrs post about free prep through Kahn Academy and other stuff, so you might have to do a bit of digging but there are tons of resources out there

TAKE PRACTICE TESTS

take one of each first - then focus on the test you did better on

one of my biggest regrets is taking SAT prep instead of ACT prep because my ACT (which I didn’t do specialized prep for) ended up equivalent to my SAT (which I did prep for)

the more you take em the better you get

Studyblr is gr8 for finding test taking tips

If you’re not happy with your score, just take it again! I only took each one once but most people improve their scores if they take it again

I recommend visiting a few universities when you’re on break! Get a feel for what you like and what you don’t like (size, location, public/private, etc) and what kind of school you could get accepted to

you don’t want to end up applying to a billion schools that you wouldn’t even want to go to

private schools like it when you express interest by visiting

so if you’re visiting, make sure you check in so you can be in their system

END OF JUNIOR YEAR - ASK FOR LETTERS OF REC NOW! BY THE FIRST WEEK OF SENIOR YEAR A LOT OF TEACHERS ARE ALREADY TAKING ON TOO MANY LETTERS!

Senior Year (buckle up this section is the longest)

but YAY UR A SENIOR

DO FUN SENIOR YEAR THINGS like my school has all kinds of events for seniors and it’s so great

Remember when I said junior year is the hardest? Yeah well no... 1st semester senior year is SO MUCH WORSE ur in for a lot of fun

Ok seriously - don’t let senioritis get to you first semester

Still take challenging classes! Schools are looking for progression in difficulty

Those mid year transcripts REALLY DO MATTER!

College apps, man

Make sure you’re communicating with your counselor to make sure you have everything ready and on track

like file the FAFSA and CSS (used for lots of privates)

tbh I didn’t think it would help me a lot but it (the CSS) actually did so just do it even if you think you’ll get nothing

Ok so hopefully at this point you have a feel for what schools you are interested in

Things to consider: location, price, size, public/private, difficulty of the application, ranking, program/major you are applying to, campus, overall vibe

I didn’t do any interviews but maybe look into it

Don’t get too comfortable and set reasonable goals - apply to several safety schools, a few good options/could go either way schools, but also a few “reaches”

ESSAYS

I’m no college counselor, but don’t just wing your essays without having an adult/professional look over them

I got lucky - my mom is a professional writer so my family didn’t pay for a counselor

Do your research - you can find so much information about what schools are looking for in essays

If an essay is “optional” DO IT it’s really not optional lol

Keep in mind - these essays are nothing like what you’ve been taught. You don’t have to (and often SHOULDNT) write a 5 paragraph essay with topic sentences relating back to the thesis and evidence, etc. its much more free

think “What is the story I am going to tell?”

get creative - this is hard and takes some time

Think: How am I going to separate myself from thousands of applicants? What is a story that ONLY I can tell?

DO EARLY ACTION FOR AS MANY SCHOOLS AS POSSIBLE!!!

such a relief to knowing you got in somewhere in like,,,, november

acceptance rates are higher for EA

the order from highest to lowest is ED > EA > RD

Early Decision scares me (schools will say they give equal scholarship consideration but lol thats a lie)

but if you have your heart set on a school go ahead

apply to other school just in case, you don’t want to get stuck starting all your apps when a lot of students have already turned them all in

Now that you’re done with applications (whew), the acceptances (and rejection) will start coming!! yay!

ok first for acceptances

those first acceptances are so cool like YAY YOU GOT INTO COLLEGE IM PROUD OF U

as soon as you get your first acceptances really start researching the school more and deciding if you’d REALLY want to go there or not

i know this is hard bc you haven't heard back from all your schools but it’ll make choosing a school so much easier

sadly, not all acceptances are happy tho

like I got accepted to my #1 school but they gave me no money so it was impossible to go

I was so emo for a couple days there

BUT! If you’re serious about it, try appealing for financial aid but keep your expectations low

ok now waitlists

these can be a bit nerve wracking

PLEASE apply for the waitlist right away

at some schools if you dont within a couple days, your application might get thrown out

aaaaand rejections

i dont have a lot to say about this but please dont be too hard on yourself

sometimes its just not meant to be and thats ok!

NOW PICKING A COLLEGE

def the most difficult and mentally draining part for me lol

make sure you really map out everything to consider

net cost (tuition, room & board, books, travel, personal expenses, etc.), size, location, etc.

I personally had this idea that I’d end up at a big school far from home but I’m going to a small school close to home and I’m still super excited!!! So make sure you give every school a second look

APPLY FOR SCHOLARSHIPS!

the essays aren’t usually too bad and sometimes you can just rework your college app essays

you can find them online, your school might have some (like PTA scholarships, band scholarships, etc.)

ok this is the time everyone really gets senioritis

i almost didn’t get senioritis at all lol just because slacking off stressed me out

but please be smart about it dont get rescinded

and lastly have fun! high school really does fly by, it’ll be over before you know it

#lol the senior year part is so much longer than the others #studyblr #high school #high school tips #study tips #studyspo #study motivation

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five-hour-anxiety · 6 years ago

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depresssion vlog 😥😴👎💭🏳️ | The Theory Of Real Activity | thursday vlogs

Taglist: @zerogettie @spacevirgil@tree4life25@thebiggestnaturaldisaster @pailettehazel@jordandobbertin@thecityofthefireflies @the-fabulous-kimball@azuranightsong@virmillion @erlenmeyertrash @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @the-sanders-sides @punch-you-with-friendship@captaincantatrice@clovenpinetree @jughead-is-canonically-aroace@aplaceinthevoid@that-random-fandom-girl @zennyo

Word Count: 4431

Warnings: depression and talks of anxiety

Pairings: platonic prinxiety, platonic logicality, platonic analogical

Summary: Virgil is in the middle of a spiral and the back to back bad days are making it hard to function. He texts a few friends for help, and this is the result.

Designated Nerd: Virgil, it has been some time since I’ve heard from you. Are you feeling well?

Me: i mean, am i ever fine

Designated Nerd: Well that is indeed worrying. Is there anything I can do for you, or would you rather I contact our more… emotional friends? Do you need me to come visit?

Me: no, i dont want anyone over right now. this is gonna sound so stupid but,,, could u tell me what u do when ur upset

Designated Nerd: If it helps, of course. I tend to listen to stimulating music and take hot showers. Please try to brush your teeth sometime soon as well, as hygiene is something that we all tend to be lax with in these states.

Me: i should have expected advice like that

Designated Nerd: Is it not useful? I apologize.

Me: o no, its good. thx lo

Designated Nerd: Anytime Virgil. Do not hesitate to contact me if you need anything else.

***

Sir-Sing-A-Lot: hey panic at the everywhere, u still breathing

Me: wow didnt kno u cared that much

Sir-Sing-A-Lot: of course i care u ass how u doing

Me: i mean im not dead. thats a fucking victory dude can i get a hell yeah

Sir-Sing-A-Lot: hell fucking yeah bro im proud of u

Me: hey while ur here,,,, how do u deal with ur bad days.

Sir-Sing-A-Lot: poorly

Me: damn dude

Sir-Sing-A-Lot: yeah well thats life but i also light candles and fucking moisturize. unlike u u heathen

Me: thanks u fucking prick

Sir-Sing-A-Lot: hate u too u asshole c u this weekend~

***

Pat-Dad: hey kiddo!! haven’t heard a peep outta you lately, just wanna make sure you’re still okay!!

Me: im not okay, actually. but im glad u texted bc i have a q for u

Pat-Dad: anything for you kiddo, tell me how i can help!! :)

Me: wat do u do on bad days. like, how do u deal with the shitty emotions

Pat-Dad: language kiddo.

Me: hellcrab.png

Pat-Dad: i dont have the profanity manatee on me so just pretend i sent that. anyway! i like to watch a bunch of funny shows and sit around in my favorite clothes! gotta feel good somehow!! and like, a lot of pillows are involved.

Me: is this permission to turn my living room into a pillow fort

Pat-Dad: absolutely!!! but make sure you eat something today kiddo,,, making food is gonna be better than takeout btw. Feels good to have made something, trick the brian into enjoying the food more.

Me: brian

Pat-Dad: *brain, oh hush up

Me: thanks 4 the help. <3 u

Pat-Dad: anytime kiddo!!!! :) <3 love you more!!!!!

***

“Welcome back to the Theory of Real Activity -- today’s vlog: not what you all signed up for.” Virgil sighed, running a hand through his hair. “As I’m sure a lot of you have noticed, or at least the twitter crew has, I haven’t been as active on the channel lately. And I’m sorry about that, but I think I’m ready to talk about why now.

“As many of you know, I have depression and anxiety. No way around it, there’s the truth. Often, these diseases prevent me from functioning like a healthy person would. That’s what’s been happening to me for the last few months. I’ve had a hard time getting up and dragging myself anywhere, much less making new content for all of you. Talking to friends via text is really hard too, so Twitter is something I can’t deal with either.

“And I know a lot of you out there are the same way -- heck, when I do use Twitter and the likes, I see messages like that all the time. And I’m happy I’m able to help you all through those days when I can. But I can’t always be around to make stuff like that, so today I’m gonna talk you guys through helping yourselves when the days get bad and the voices get loud, okay?

“But don’t let the start of this video fool you -- this isn’t a ‘oh we’re all gonna be okay if we just believe!’ kinda thing. Because there’s a lot of those. Don’t get me wrong, those are all wonderful messages and I really appreciate them, but I don’t think we need another one right now. What’s the point in trying to be motivated when the energy just isn’t there? I don’t know about any of you, but I almost feel worse when I watch those because I know whoever is on the other side of the screen wants me to work for happiness and I just… can’t. I can’t do it when I’m that low. So, no, this is not one of those videos.

“This is something completely different, I really hope it clicks with a few of you.”

The camera switches out of selfie mode to reveal a table full of shopping bags. Virgil laughs off-screen and there’s the sound of papers shuffling.

“Ladies, Gents, and everyone beyond the binary welcome to ‘How to Kinda Cope with Shit Brains’, starring yours truly. Let’s begin, shall we?”

***

“Logan, you didn’t tell me you were uploading a video today! What’s this one about?” Patton squealed, clicking on the notification. Logan peered over his shoulder, trying to make out the display behind layers of smudges and a few cracks.

“I- I did not upload a video today as Thursdays are typically reserved for anything Virgil wishes to post. That’s why there have not been any midweek videos recently.” Logan pulled out his own phone, giving up on Patton’s, and quickly unlocked the screen. “There is no one else with access to the account, so who- oh never mind. That is clearly something of Virgil’s creation.”

“My goodness, he sure loves emojis, huh?” Patton giggled, reaching into his pockets. Logan groaned something like ‘you have no idea’ and pulled out a screen cloth for Patton. The younger man took it and quickly cleaned off his screen before pulling out his earbuds

“Do you wanna watch it together?” He asked, dangling them in front of Logan. Logan stared at him, grimacing.

“Do you know how unsanitary sharing earphones is, Patton? I have a split connector in my bag, allow me to retrieve it and we shall view it together.”

***

“So, I have compiled a list of things my friends do when they’re having bad days, as well as a few activities of my own, and we’re gonna test them. I’ll take note of how I feel before I start, do the activities, and then I’ll rate them by how I feel afterward. And if that sounds complicated, it is! Kinda. Logan says it’s the proper way to test things, by having a starting point and an end point, so go ask him? I don’t know, he’s always talking about control groups and I don’t know about any of you but I don’t want to make myself have bad days back to back just so I can test a bunch of things ‘fairly’.

“Anyway, first up: Roman’s list. He- he actually didn’t have much to say, just “moisturize bitch’ so I just pulled ideas from what he normally does on off-days. Sorry, Ro, but you brought this upon yourself.”

Virgil reaches into the bag marked “Bed, Bath, and Beyond” and fishes out a bottle of something pink, as well as a purple container of lotion and a green candle.

“I know for a fact Roman prefers grapefruit face wash, so that’s what we got here,” he shakes the pink bottle, “so we can gift this to him when we’re done here. And we have a bottle of lavender-scented lotion to go with it. I read somewhere that lavender helps with anxiety or something, but like,” he points at the camera, “it just smells good, and I am not ashamed to admit to that. Don’t read too much into this.

“I also bought a scented candle, because that’s the only other thing Roman offered advice-wise. I fact-checked this one, and apparently good scents are supposed to help you think more clearly? Or something. I don’t know, I read the article at four in the morning, there’s not much I can really remember about it. Four am Virgil is really bad at retaining information.”

The camera jostles as Virgil picks it up and walks into his bathroom. “Uh, just for like, the starting point? The best way to describe this type of anxiety is the buzzing and tensing of your muscles and the tightness in your chest. There’s nothing I want more than to dive under my bed sheets and sleep until tomorrow and try again later.

“But I’m going to do this, so wish me luck.” He mutters, turning the tap on and grabbing a washcloth. The screen cuts away to black as an upbeat nineties song plays, and the text on the screen reads ‘Roman’s results’.

“So,” Virgil starts, his face covered in white foam, “this stuff kinda burns? Roman, what the hell is wrong with you, you like this stuff? Ugh. Also, just so everyone knows, the smell of artificial grapefruit and lavender do not mix. Like separate, they are really good smells but just… don’t mix them together. It’s a really bad idea. We may have to do my list next so I can let the house air out for a while. As it is, I didn’t even try to light the candle, we do not need to add spearmint to this stink bomb.

“Beyond that? The face wash is definitely waking me up. I feel a little more ‘oh hey, I’m a person’ that I did before so, yeah. This wasn’t a total bust. And my skin is soft! I understand the appeal of moisturizing now! Roman, how dare you keep this a secret from me?” Virgil laughs, rubbing his hands together. “Holy shit I feel like a million bucks. I am keeping the lotion, you can take this demon face scrub.” Virgil reaches off screen and picks up the pink bottle, scanning the back panel of text.

“So overall, I’d say Roman’s tactics work. You just gotta like, make sure you get complimentary smells so you don’t stink yourself out of your house,” He says, still reading the bottle, “And you should definitely read the instructions on the bottles because this,” He holds up the pink bottle, “says to wash off after a few minutes, and it’s been ten. I’m gonna go get this off my face now.”

***

“Babe, you seriously didn’t read the instructions?” Roman howled, throwing his head back into the couch. He could hear Virgil scoff from the kitchen.

“Excuse me, but I thought it was like one of those face masks you leave on for half an hour! How was I supposed to know!” He asked, walking back into the room and plopping down beside Roman. “They look the same when you put them on, and you have a few long-lasting ones that smell like grapefruit! I had no way of knowing!”

“You could’ve called, man. I would have helped you!” Roman lifted his arm, inviting Virgil to crawl under it. He took it and wrapped his arms around the taller man’s chest. “You bought face scrub, which is definitely not the same thing. Both are good though! Just, not that same.”

“Yeah, well, I know that now,” Virgil muttered, burying his head in Roman’s hoodie.

“We can do actual face masks after this if you want.” Roman offered, picking his phone back up. “Your pores could really benefit from one.”

“You’re a dick. Turn that thing off.”

“Love you too, bastard, but there’s no way in hell I’m turning this off.”

***

The camera cuts again, and this time Virgil is in his bedroom. The window is open, and the sound of passing cars is almost inaudible but still present. His peach walls are bathed in a warm glow of the setting sun, a light breeze pushing his bangs up every so often.

“Okay so, next up is Patton’s list. As per my own ‘rules’, I’m feeling mentally exhausted and ready to check the fuck out right now. But despite this, I’m actually… really excited for this one? It involves food, there’s no way this can go poorly.”

The video cuts to footage of Virgil screaming as food on the stove erupts into flame. The 1812 Overture is playing the background. Whatever was in the pan is no longer food, as the burnt sustenance is bubbling in an ominous manner. The oven mitt is no longer on Virgil’s hand and is instead in a smoky heap on the kitchen counter.

“No way this can go poorly” Virgil’s voice echoes as he runs off camera screaming. He returns with a fire extinguisher, the lens becoming jammed with foam just before the video cuts back to Virgil in his room eating Chinese takeout.

“Okay so. It turns out it can go poorly. Patton said that making sure you eat, like, actual food and not six servings of chocolate cake with a glass of cherry coke on the side is supposed to help with the depression thing but like. It definitely didn’t help with the anxiety. Something about the food you worked to make tasting better?

“So, I cheated and ordered take out. But hey! This stuff has got a bunch of veggies in it, so I think I won this round. Moving on,” Virgil puts the food down and leans down to grab something off the floor, “Patton also recommended watching some shows that I know I enjoy, so let’s do that next.” Virgil puts on the purple headphones he had grabbed and pulled his laptop onto his lap. He clicks off the light on his desk and plunges the room into darkness with only his computer light illuminating his face.

“We’re watching the entirety of the Brooklyn Nine-Nine Halloween episodes, so be prepared for a highlight reel of that while I stuff my face with rice.” He twirls his finger around in a ‘roll film’ motion and kicks his feet up on the desk.

The camera cuts to a black screen once more, the same upbeat music playing in the background. The text now read’s “Patton’s results”.

The next few minutes is a series of clips strung together, many of them consisting of Virgil mouthing the lines along with the characters, and screeching with laughter. The last one shows him crying into his takeout, mumbling about how much he loves the relationship between Jake and Amy. He had taken his feet down from the desk at some point, now curled into his chair and bundled in his hoodie almost entirely.

The video cuts away to a slightly more composed Virgil, who is now cuddling a pillow and scraping the bottom of the takeout box. His eye makeup had run down his face over the last few hours and he looked unnaturally pale in the weird lighting.

“Yeah that uh,” He coughs awkwardly, “that worked. Ten out of three Patton, way to go. Got my brain to shut up for like, I don’t know, two hours?” He takes a deep breath and puts the takeout container on the desk. “It’s late, I think I’m gonna just do Logan’s and I’s lists tomorrow.”

***

“Should I be concerned that he set the kitchen on fire and didn’t call anyone?” Patton whispered, pausing the video. “Why didn’t he call anyone? Did he get burned?”

“I do not think you speeding to his house would have done any good, Patton, as he got the fire out by himself. That being said,” Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, “he is not allowed to cook for game night. Ever. What was he even trying to make?”

“He can join me in the kitchen ban, then. The store-bought cookie club just gained a new member.”

“God help us if you ever cook together. I’d have to take out a loan for a new apartment. I already cannot pay my student loans, I fear the possibility of adding to my life debt.” Logan shuddered, reaching over to unpause the video.

***

“Okay, good morning internet. It’s buttcrack early outside, I don’t even think the sun is up yet? That’s good, actually, and I’ll get to why later.

“So, all that’s left is Logan and I’s lists, and to be honest? Logan may have already won the whole thing, looking at this on paper. He actually cares about like, not dying by germs or some shit.,I can guarantee his list will be practical. I gotta go set some stuff up for my list, so hang tight.” The screen cuts to a slightly more awake Virgil.

He grins and gives a tiny wave before tapping the screen to switch the camera and show a hammock.

“So, I’m next. I’m also gonna save Logan’s advice for the end of the video so you guys watch this whole thing. Give people an incentive for sticking around. Because I can see the stats on this, I know half of you like, exit the video halfway through. Stay for the whole thing, dammit, I need the ad money.” He laughs, gently putting the camera down. The screen shows a new sunrise, one full of soft purples and oranges. Above the sun and its halo are a few stars that have yet to go out for the day, barely visible behind the hazy clouds. Virgil picks the camera back up, the footage shaky.

The camera stills to a shot of Virgil’s legs, the hammock swaying gently in the breeze. A few frogs can be heard singing in the background and Virgil hums a few notes. His voice is low as he speaks, still rough from sleep.

“Again, to follow my own rules: I feel so awful I don’t even want to talk about it, guys. Sorry.” Virgil is quiet for a while longer, the occasional whispered lyric picked up by the microphone. Eventually, he speaks once more, a lighter tone to his voice.

“Sure, this looks peaceful, but if you could all hear what kind of music I’m listening to right now, you’d be calling my therapist. Hey, Paul, I apologize my bro, but wow are you not gonna like me the next time I’m in.

“So yeah, my list is just ‘get sun and get songs’. You Gucci fam, just stay out here until you either feel good or get cold. Probably gonna be the last one but, hey, you tried. Gold star. Bring a blanket if you wanna aim for the best possible outcome.”

The camera cuts again, this time looking down from what is assumed to be a porch. The sky is dark once more, and the only source of light is a small candle.

“Huh. What do you know, the candle works after all. Spearmint -- the poor man’s anti-anxiety. You know, I actually looked that up. Spearmint is supposed to be a good stress reliever and some kind of mood booster. The more you know, huh?”

***

“Virgil, what the hell does that mean?” Roman chuckled, rubbing Virgil’s arm.

“It means that when I’m panicking at work I just pop in a breath mint and BAM I am suddenly closer to reality than I was ten seconds ago.”

“Do I wanna know how you discovered that?”

“I had a hangry panic attack in high school and the only thing I had to eat in my bag were breath mints I was meaning to gift to you.”

“Oh, that’s pretty- hey.”

“You could still use some, man. Keep your nasty breath away from me.”

Roman just hummed, looking at Virgil from the corner of his eyes. He smiled softly, his eyes sad and concerned. Pulling him closer, he unpaused the video and listened as he continued to hold his friend.

***

“And last but certainly not least, is the list of the late, great Logan. He’s not dead. He’s just always late to dinner dates. Like a pretentious nerd, his excuses are ‘oh, I was studying’, ‘oh, I had an exam’, or ‘Patton set the kitchen on fire again, call 911’. What an ass.

“Anyway. This list, which doesn’t have a cool name because Logan is against emojis and stuff, just has like, five items on it. In order that is: brush your teeth, put on some clean clothes, wash your hair, put on some socks, and the last one is a surprise. Because it really took me off guard and I need you all to be as surprised as I was.

“And right now, I just feel apathetic. In case someone gets upset that I didn’t mention I felt going into this, I just feel apathetic.”

The video cuts away to Virgil’s bathroom once more, and the leftover mess from the other day can be seen in the sink.

“Uh. Just, just ignore that mess. You know what it’s from, I don’t feel bad about that. Anyway, teeth brushing. Let me just find the toothpaste…

“You know, I can’t remember if I bought toothpaste at the store. Of all the crap I bought, don’t think toothpaste made it into the bin. So, let’s just see if I still have any of the travel samples from the dentist.”

Virgil riffles through his cabinets, pulling out items such as combs, hair dye, bleach, and a bottle of pills. He hums for a second, before crouching down to look under the sink.

“I feel like, and I could be the only one who experiences this, I feel like anything that gets put under the sink will never see the light of day. So maybe I won’t be brushing my teeth today- wait. Wait! Oh gosh, thank you Jesus- there’s a- there is a bottle in the back there, but I can’t reach it. Outta my way, makeup kit, I got teeth to be cleaned!”

Virgil pops back into view, holding up a half used mini bottle of toothpaste. It’s the kid’s kind, that tastes like berries and bubblegum. He uncaps it and starts to squeeze it out onto his toothbrush buts stops short.

“Why the hell are there sparkles in this thing? That- isn’t that a, like, choking hazard or some shit? Okay, sorry Logan, teeth brushing is not happening in this video. I think you’d agree with me on this. When you get to this point in the video, feel free to add toothpaste to our shopping list.”

***

“Jokes on you, Virgil, I added it yesterday when I spent the night and had to use that monstrosity.”

“I use that stuff all the time, Logan, there’s nothing wrong with it! Look at me, I’m perfectly fine!”

“That’s… that’s a, uh, great point Patton. Explains a lot.”

***

“Okay, so next on the list was clean clothes. I’m doing that off camera, you nasties, so hang tight for a word from our sponsors.”

The screen is black, with white text reading “crofters plz sponsor us logan is desperate.”

Virgil reappears, in the same hoodie and shirt. He smirks, pointing at a pile of clothes on the floor.

“Ha, I own two of these hoodies and three of these shirts. I am a cartoon character, y’all will never see me in a different outfit. You can dream, but my job is to crush those dreams.” He makes a fist as he says this, laughing through his teeth as he tries to appear tough.

The camera cuts again, this time showing Virgil singing into a hairbrush while a towel is wrapped around his head. The scene doesn’t last long, as we are once again taken back to Virgil’s bedroom where he is set up with a laptop. This time he’s on his bed and the curtains are drawn.

“It said to wash your hair, and you can’t wash hair without serenading the monsters living behind the shower curtains we all feared when we were little. Just because we aren’t afraid of them doesn’t mean they aren’t real!

“Anyway, this is the last part of Logan’s list. It’s actually really sweet? Like, I am a grown ass man, and I am not ashamed to say I sobbed over this.” He continues, voice starting to tremor.

Virgil spins his laptop around to show a YouTube video that’s about half an hour long. The title reads, ‘the best of Bert and Ernie from Sesame Street’. Virgil sniffs real fast, raking a fist over his eyes.

“He uh, he knew these guys were my heroes growing up. And he knew it would cheer me up. Guess w-hat man,” Virgil sniffs again, “It- it worked like a fu-fucking charm. I uh, I’m actually feeling things after going through your list, so like. Nice work, I guess, I owe you dinner. Like, dinner at a restaurant, not a cooking dinner because I don’t want to poison you.

“Ahem. Anyway. That’s the best thing in this whole video, you win Logan. And that about wraps up the Thursday vlog. Thanks for listening everyone, here’s the obligatory ‘we’re gonna be okay’ message, because as corny as that is -- it’s true. Find yourself a Bert to go with your Ernie and it’ll be okay. Maybe throw in an Elmo or a Zoey if you wanna round out the group. And my metaphor is getting too complicated, so! Virgil out! See you this weekend for the next Theory of Real Activity -- Logan and I are joined by Patton this time and we get into wild shit this week, let me tell you.”

***

“Well, what are we still waiting around here for?” Patton asked, turning his phone off. He disconnected the earbuds, stuffing his haphazardly into his front pocket. Logan winced at the sight, and quickly but carefully wound his up into their case.

“I’ll text Virgil to make sure he knows to expect us. Patton, if you could text Roman?” Logan asks, standing up and smoothing out his shirt. Patton nods, already poking away at his phone.

Me: Greetings, Virgil. Patton and I are on our way over to your house if that is okay?

Virgil Jackson: cant tell you no, you practically live here

Me: Yes, well, that is true. Is there anything I should bring with us?

Virgil Jackson: would it be lame to say a hug

Me: Not at all. If there is anything this group is good for, it’s hugging and crying. The occasional yelling, but that could go either way.

Virgil Jackson: whatever nerd, get over here already

#sanders sides fic #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #prinxiety #logicality #analogical #ali writes #its another vlog fic sue me #i wanted to you all can fight me later #the theory of real activity

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bamfcoyotetango · 7 years ago

Note

Number 7, Chaleigh please. 😁

Oh gosh, this is so very late but the Muses ate the prompt and gave me this .

7. Fake Relationship AU

Hand In My Hand

Raleigh's in the middle of setting up the music for the piano when Hansen, their bartender for the night, cleared his throat behind Raleigh.

"You need help cutting the citrus?" He asked sympathetically.

All the bartenders hate citrus and Raleigh's pretty good with a knife.

The only problem was that Hansen didn't ask for help.

Like... Ever.

"Yeah, actually. I, err, I've been meanin' t' talk with you." Hansen relented, his broad shoulders slumping in a show of emotion Raleigh didn't expect.

"Oh?" Raleigh arranged the music and left the wide performance platform, careful to step over the wires the sound crew hid under the rich red carpet. "Any reason in particular?"

The other man handed over a knife, a cutting board and a bag of mixed citrus. "Look, I know I'm not... the most social."

Raleigh snorted at that, "No shit."

"Oi, fuck off yeah? I'm trying here." Hansen growled defensively before he sighed. "I've got a problem."

"... And you think I can fix it?" He countered dryly as he sliced the fruits into multi-colored discs. "I know I'm the bar's handyman and all but uh, I normally don't fix people as a rule."

"Yes." The blunt honesty has Raleigh setting down his knife and turning to face Hansen. "Look, you're pretty enough that my Dad might be fooled inta thinkin' we're datin', alright? He knows I don't swing too often the other way and Mako's like my sister so I can't ask her an' the rest of the bartenders-"

Raleigh held up a hand and mulled it over, parsing out the basics of it in under two minutes. It wasn't exactly a secret that Raleigh appreciated multiple types of people. Hansen might've been a surly jerk but damn if he didn't fill out his bar polo shirt nicely. "You want me to date you... because your Dad is a hard ass?"

"Look, he's coming to visit in a few months an' he keeps a hairy eyeball on my social media, yeah? He knows when I'm not datin' and he gets all sad an' mopey like he didn't do a job 'n a half raising me. My old man wants to see me happy. So... are you in or what?" Hansen grumbled even as he rubbed at his nose.

Raleigh thought of his Maman, in remission, being overjoyed that her middle child finally found someone.

"I'll make you a deal," He allowed carefully, "if this is for your Dad, then it's also gotta be for my Maman. She's in remission and now she's tryin' to meddle in my love-life. You break her heart and I'll break your face. I'll pretend to date your ass for her sake if nothing else."

"What about...?"

Raleigh gritted his teeth and sucked in a calming breath. "Let's just say he's a bastard."

"... Oh. I guess we need to outline what's not okay to touch as a topic." Hansen pointed out.

"Yeah, might be a good idea." He admitted.

"For starters, don't ask about Mum and I won't ask about the rat bastard."

"Got it."

"By the way... M' name's Chuck." Chuck held out his hand and Raleigh shook it.

"Raleigh."

Chuck, for all of his asshole tendencies, was pretty decent with the whole dating thing.

Once Raleigh got past the scowl and the snark and the Alaskan-sized chip on his shoulder, that is.

He'd even bothered to ask Raleigh for his favorite flower (sunflowers) and had presented them with a scowl at the start of their next 'date'.

Somewhere along the way, dating Chuck had become less obligation and started to feel like... something Raleigh shouldn't enjoy as much as he did.

He shouldn't enjoy the under-the-breath quips that were so sarcastic that Raleigh actually cracked up laughing when he caught them.

He shouldn't sneak glances when Chuck closed his eyes and reveled in the wind coming off of the sea.

He shouldn't save a sunflower from each bouquet Chuck "remembered" to bring.

Raleigh spun a thick stem between his fingers and quietly admitted to himself that if he fell in love with Chuck, it might not be so bad.

It wasn't like the ginger bastard would ever return his feelings after all.

Raleigh was one of, it turned out, a lucky three people who had Chuck's phone number.

""So, Chuck hasn't called in and I have it on good authority that you're dating. I got the Kaidonovskies to cover his shift but could you do us all a huge favor and go check on him?"" Sergio asked. ""He's never done this before so I'm a little worried.""

"I'm on it, Serg. I'll let you know what's up, okay?" Raleigh hummed and then scrubbed a hand down his face as he texted Chuck.

Raleigh: Where r u?

It took near five minutes for Chuck to respond, which was way longer than his usual five seconds.

Chuck: m sick

Chuck: don't come over

Chuck: if I die u get my dog

He snorted, texting as he grabbed his jacket, his scarf and his washable surgical mask Mako had given him for his birthday.

Raleigh: drama llama

Raleigh: Ur not gonna die

Raleigh: I'm coming over

Chuck appeared to rouse at that.

Chuck: NO

If Chuck thought he could out-stubborn Raleigh, he had another thing coming.

Raleigh: YES

Raleigh: I'm making you homemade soup

Raleigh: u giant wiener

Chuck didn't respond for several moments as if shocked that Raleigh would do something that nice.

Chuck: U need my address

Chuck: Or did u expect to kno

Chuck: where I live, u wanker

He did laugh at that, midway through testing a tomato with his fingers.

Raleigh: I could ask Mako

Raleigh: She'll provide the info

Raleigh: with half the hassle that

Raleigh: Ur giving me

Raleigh: btw

Raleigh: R u allergic to tomato?

His phone buzzed with the response as Raleigh finished grocery shopping.

Chuck: no, not allergic to tomato

Chuck: pick up some tissue

As though he sensed he was being a little rude, he followed it with another text.

Chuck: ... pls?

Raleigh shook his head, flicked on his voice-to-text app and said, "Already on it period. Send."

Chuck sent the address and Raleigh pulled over into a gas station to input the address. He paused, contemplated labeling it 'U Grumpy Bastard' and then grinned at it occurred to him.

Chuck's address ended up as 'My Dumbass

An English bulldog sat in his way, Raleigh's arms aching as the grocery bags creaked.

"Uh, hi, pup. Could you do me a favor—"

"Max, get." Chuck rasped, poking his dog with his socked foot to let Raleigh into his apartment.

He toed off his boots out of habit and nudged them into a vaguely neat pile near the door.

Raleigh set all the bags down, found the trash can and the fridge and got to work.

By the time the tomato soup was bubbling on the stove, Chuck had been served eucalyptus tea, meds and tissues, in that order.

Raleigh absently texted Sergio as he watched his soup, keeping half an eye on a bemused and snuffling Chuck. He reigned in the urge to kiss the frown off of Chuck's face.

Chuck frowned and then wrote on the whiteboard Raleigh had brought from home.

'What? Do I have something in my face?'

"Nah. Just an old habit from when my sister was sick. She'd sneak off the couch and then get me sick cause she likes to cuddle when she's loopy on meds." He deflected as he poked at the soup.

The squeak of the marker was proceeded by Chuck gathering his blanket nest and sitting on the tall chair next to the counter.

'U have siblings?'

"Mm, two. Yancy's the oldest and Jazzy's the youngest. I'm the middle kiddo."

'Why tomato soup?'

"I'll have you know that Maman and my Mémé would skin me alive if I fed you anything else aside from this. It's supposed to be loaded with nutrients and good protein to help you get better." He countered with a raised brow.

'Meme??'

"French for Grandma. Maman is Mom." Raleigh explained. He pulled out the bacon, frowned and asked, "Where's your frying pan?"

'Under the stove.'

"... You don't cook, clearly, cause otherwise you'd know that that's the broiler, not a drawer. Also, these are really nice pans and it's a shame they don't get used more often." He talked mostly to himself but Chuck blew a raspberry from behind the covers. "It's true."

'Don't b rude. It's my space u know.'

"Supposed to be our space, remember? Shit, should I move in?" Raleigh asked and Chuck shook his head hard enough to negate that.

'NO.'

Chuck wrote quickly and then thrust it out as Raleigh patted the bacon to get the excess grease off.

'I'm already regretting asking u, alright? The last thing I need is to see u in ur undies. I bet u wear whities.'

"Hey! I wear boxer briefs, you jerk. Tightey-whities are soooo last season. Also, Jazz would murder me for that fashion crime. She's majoring in it and if I'm related to her, I'm gonna not cause her pain by dressing, and I quote, 'like a fisherman with no sense'. She's already tried to kill my sweaters, okay?" Raleigh grumbled as he dumped most of the bacon into the soup.

'Wait. Seriously?'

"Yeah, seriously."

'Ur jumpers r how I know it's u. No one else at the bar wears them like u do.' If Raleigh tilted it right, it might've been a compliment but Chuck didn't do those.

"Uhhhh, thanks, I think. Now, eat your soup and rest some more, alright?" Raleigh served up a decent bowl that would go down well with Chuck and reserved the rest of the soup in the pot, closing it with a lid. "Don't even think about ruining my soup by sticking it in the microwave. Heat it up on the stove on low." He looked at Max. "Do I need to take Max for a poop?"

'Probably. His lead's in the hall.'

Raleigh grabbed the red leash and Max was suddenly at his feet, butt wagging furiously.

He barely had room to tug on his boots.

"I'll be back! Finish that soup, Chuck!" The door closed with a clunk behind him. He laughed when Max tugged him down the street, barely giving him time to shrug on his jacket and wrap his scarf up the right way.

"Is that Max I hear?" Max boofed and somehow his butt wiggled even harder. "It is~" An older woman was sitting on the porch, her hands cradling a warm drink with a blanket in her lap. "Oh! You're not Chuck!"

"Ahh, no. He's sick," Raleigh mentioned with a shrug, his muscles straining as Max tugged on the leash in this woman's direction. "Max, pas maintenant*." He chided.

"You must be that friend of his."

"... Umm," Raleigh's face heated up as he thought about Chuck, who was probably miserably eating his soup and scrubbed at the back of his neck.

"Oh, I see. How long?" Her confidential tone made Raleigh want to combust from embarassment.

"Coupla months," he choked out, "Gotta go, ma'am, Max is, umm..."

"Go on. Chuck's got himself a keeper! You tell him Mrs. Gage said so, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." Raleigh agreed as Max tugged on the leash again.

"Chuck, I swear to God that you've got the nosiest neighbors—" Raleigh froze at the sight of a man who could only be Chuck's Dad.

He let Max off the leash on autopilot after he closed the door, hanging it up like he'd seen it earlier. Raleigh kicked off his boots again and set them against the foyer frame, this time a great deal neater than they'd been before.

"You must be Raleigh," the man said as though he hadn't thrown their whole plan out of wack. "I'm Herc."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir." He let his manners take over, a smile on his face as he shook the offered hand. "Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee?"

'Dad doesn't do tea.' When the whiteboard popped up from the couch, it seemed Chuck had retreated back with his blanket nest.

"Mm, coffee then?" Raleigh hummed as Herc looked between them. "Milk? Creamer?"

"Creamer, if you don't mind."

He busied himself preparing two cups of coffee and then dug into the supplies he'd organized on the counter, muttering to himself in Korean as he read the instructions for the citron tea he'd brought over.

"Coffee 'n creamer for us, tea for Chuck. Don't make that face. It's gonna feel nice and it's yuzu, vaguely lemony with honey." He sat next to Chuck, reaching to adjust the blankets and handing over the tea.

'Ur gonna get sick.'

"Mmm, yeah, probably. Do I look like I mind?" Raleigh pointed out as he gently pecked Chuck on the lips. Chuck grumbled wordlessly but snuggled closer as he drank his tea. He made a noise of surprise at the taste and looked at Raleigh with a wordless question. "So-Yi suggested it when I dropped by the bar. Y'know, half of them thought you got in a fight or dropped off the face of the planet. Being sick never even occurred to them."

'Liar.'

"No, that's what you get when literally three people have your number, you dumbass." He bickered back, looking up when a muffled laugh brought him back to their current situation.

Right.

Chuck's Dad.

"Y'know, I almost didn't believe my son when he said he was dating someone. He works hard and doesn't remember to leave time for himself but I can see he's in good hands with you." The pride Herc had for his son was clear in nearly every word he spoke.

"Yeah, well I could've said the same a while back. Chuck's sweet under like, fifteen layers of asshole, but you gotta have enough patience for the layers." Raleigh ribbed Chuck gently, letting himself touch instead of shying away from Chuck. They had to make this convincing—At least that was how he justified it to himself. "Mmm, you've got a fever." He told Chuck as he brushed the damp ginger hair away from Chuck's forehead.

'No shit, u wanker. What r u doing?'

Raleigh leaned in close and whispered his answer, "I'm being your boyfriend, hell practically the perfect one. The least your dumbass could do is play along, right?"

Chuck huffed at that and leaned into the casual touch. 'whatever. R we still doing that ice thing?'

"Like I'm gonna miss the chance to see you fall on your ass?" Raleigh teased. "We'll just have to reschedule for when you're better."

"I'll leave you two to be cutesy." Herc chuckled and Raleigh nearly face palmed.

They were totally—"Oh God, I'm the worst host-"

'Sorry Dad.'

"Don't be sorry. You two remind me of a better time." Herc only smiled at them and let himself out, nudging Max away from the door with his foot out of years of practice.

Raleigh practically turned the air blue with French curses before he sighed. "At least your Dad's convinced?"

"Why'd you kiss me?" Chuck's voice, as raspy as it was, caught his attention immediately.

"We're supposed to be dating. If I really was your boyfriend, I wouldn't let a cold keep me from kissing you. You were just so adorably grumpy," Raleigh replied before he caught what came out of his mouth. "I-I mean, I've gone and done it with my other relationships, y'know, so I thought you wouldn't mind—"

"Raleigh." Chuck's gaze cut off his voice faster than anything else. "Did you call me adorably grumpy?"

"No," he denied it quickly, valiantly trying to ignore how his face felt like it was on fire.

"You sure?"

"Yes!"

"Raleigh, I-"

"I think I might be in love with you." He blurted and then slapped both of his hands over his mouth in shock.

Oh he was so screwed; Chuck was going to break off their agreement, break up with him even though they weren't really dating and why did that thought hurt so much?

Raleigh made to stand, one foot planted on the floor when Chuck's hand shot out and grabbed the front of his sweater.

"I thought it was hopeless," Chuck coughed before he continued hoarsely. "that there was no way in a million years that sunshine personified would ever like me enough, but you said... You said you're in love with me."

Huh. Weren't they a match made in heaven; oblivious as hell until one of them confessed.

Raleigh settled back into the blankets and whispered, "'Sunshine personified'? Really?"

"Don't you start, Rahleigh."

"Well, since we're actually dating, there is a way to shut me up."

He was going to regret it later, he knew, but the feel of Chuck's tongue in his mouth over-rode the resignation of being sick right along with his boyfriend.

Mako only laughed when Raleigh whined about being sick.

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duhragonball · 7 years ago

Text

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (67/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous chapters conveniently available here.

[24 November 236 Before Age. Extraliga.]

Zatte was not dead, though she wasn't sure how much longer that would last.

She was alone in a cavern near one of Extraliga's oldest cities. The whole planet was currently being invaded by a mercenary fleet assembled by the planet Wist. Zatte's wife, the Super Saiyan Luffa, was leading the defense against this invasion. Zatte herself was a Dorlun, one of a reclusive species of survivalists. The Dorluns had no interests on Extraliga, but Zatte had come to this planet anyway. She believed that Luffa was more than a powerful warrior, but a watershed in the history of the universe. It was more of a matter of faith than reason, but Zatte believed that Luffa's agenda was worth supporting at any cost, up to and including Zatte's own life.

She rolled onto her side and raised her hands to the light from a lamp she had set up earlier. There were blisters on her palms, and the normally blue skin had become an unsettling shade of magenta, but she took comfort in knowing that the burns were only second degree. The pain was intense, but at least it didn't look as bad as it felt.

"Well, you always wanted to burn for her," Zatte muttered to herself as she tried to get back to her feet. Her movements seemed slow and sluggish, and this bothered her, but she refused to panic. She would get the diagnostic tool out of the medkit and wait for it to tell her just how badly she was hurt.

Of course, the real challenge was going to be getting the diagnostic tool out of the bag with minimal use of her hands. She was reasonably sure she could handle it with her toes, but that would mean removing the boots she was wearing, and the socks was wearing under those. Zatte thought she could do it, but she wasn't sure how much time she had left.

The Shockmaster had come to Extraliga in search of the Recollector, a device which could retrieve objects lost in the distant past. His aim was to bring back a magical artifact of such immense power that its very presence on Extraliga's surface would eradicate most of the life on the planet. Luffa and Zatte had devised a two-pronged defense against this. While Luffa intercepted the Shockmaster and his invasion force, Zatte would locate the Recollector first and sabotage it. But the Shockmaster had managed an end-run. During his fight with Luffa, he had been able to access the Recollector with his mind, and somehow input his instructions remotely.

Now, there were only minutes left before the Ur-Ember was drawn into the present day, where it would emerge in the cavern and kill everyone with its mystic emanations. Zatte had tried to stop it, but nothing had worked. Her last attempt to interrupt the power flow inside the device had done nothing but burn her hands and interrupt her psychic connection to her allies on Planet Wist. They had been helping her make sense of the Recollector's ancient technology, but now she could no longer sense their presence in her mind. The alchemical potion she had consumed to reach them must have worn off, or the Recollector's feedback had severed the connection, or...

As she struggled to remove her boots, she made the mistake of using two of her fingers, and cried out from the pain. Tears streamed from her one good eye as she fought to stay calm. When the Ur-Ember arrived, Zatte would be the first to die. Dorluns viewed survival as a moral imperative, but while most of them chose to avoid danger, Zatte reveled in it. The thrill of mortal peril was a challenge that she normally enjoyed. Until now.

Now, all hope seemed lost. The Recollector couldn't be stopped. She could try again, but there was so little time. Escape was impossible. She'd have to reach a shipyard and get into space to reach a safe distance from the Ur-Ember. Not even Luffa could save her. Zatte could sense her wife's enormous ki as she battled the Shockmaster. They were too evenly matched. Luffa could prevail, but not quickly enough to help Zatte with the Recollector. Indeed, that had been the whole point of their plan. Going in, Luffa had no idea how long it would take to beat the Shockmaster. Zatte had come to this cavern to ensure that Luffa could take her time on that angle. Their plan had collapsed.

Zatte continued to work on her boots, and as she did, a very lonely feeling came over her. She had been alone in the cavern this whole time, but she had never truly felt alone. She had been able to sense Luffa's ki, and she had her telepathic conference for company. Even without those, the mission of stopping the Recollector had given her a sort of companionship with the effort to save Extraliga.

Without that mission to drive her, the self-recriminations began. She felt like a fool for coming here all by herself. She hadn't wanted to bring along Extraligan soldiers for fear that they might attract attention from the invaders. She didn't think they could be of much help, and she wanted to minimize any risks to their safety. Besides, she was Dorlun enough to want to keep a low profile. Luffa was a celebrity throughout the galaxy, but that didn't mean Zatte wanted to be one too. These had all seemed like perfectly sensible reasons at the time, but now she would have liked to have someone else here, even if all they could do was treat her burns and talk to her while the world came to an end.

The truth was that she had insisted on tackling this mission by herself for purely selfish reasons. She admired Luffa, and saw her defense of Extraliga and other worlds as a holy crusade. The fact that Luffa herself didn't agree with this view only made it even more sacred to Zatte. She would never be strong enough to truly fight alongside Luffa, but if she could make some important contribution, then maybe--

But none of that mattered now. Zatte had failed Extraliga, just as she had failed her own people on Dorlu Prime. She hadn't completely given up. As she reflected on her failure, she had managed to remove both boots and one of her socks. She had every intention of getting back to the Recollector and making one last try to stop it. But this was more out of stubbornness than anything else. She fully expected to die in this place. All she could do now was struggle to the last.

With more effort than she expected, she rose to her knees and turned to find the carryall. Nearby, the Recollector hummed and made several other strange noises as it made the final preparations to bring doom to this world. The sounds of its operation had been echoing through the cavern this whole time, to the point where Zatte had almost tuned it out.

And so, she hadn’t heard the other person in the cavern with her. It wasn’t until Zatte turned around that she realized she hadn't been alone after all.

*******

"This'll help with the pain, but I can't do much else for you. You'll need a doctor."

"How did you get here, Keda?" was all Zatte could ask.

The Dorlun child shrugged as she put away the medicated gel and reached for a spool of bandages. "Same way you did," she said. "I was hiding in your carryall the whole time."

"Disguised as what?" Zatte asked. Every Dorlun had a unique ability. Zatte's was to manipulate energy. Keda was a shapeshifter. Apparently Zatte had underestimated her level of skill.

Keda held up the case that contained the medical kit. "This," she said. "I figured if you had seen two medkits in your bag, you wouldn't complain."

"That's impossible," Zatte said. "I triple-checked the bag before I left."

"No, you double-checked it," Keda said. "I guess you got distracted by your glorious mission. Anyway, I'm here, and that's all that matters."

"You told me you didn't want any part of this," Zatte said. "You said it was too dangerous."

Keda began wrapping Zatte's hands and shook her head. "You and I are the only survivors of the colony on Dorlu Prime," she said. I mean, there's probably other Dorluns out there, and I've been trying to find them with the subspace radio on the ship, but right now it's just you and me. Well, Luffa too, I guess. She married in, after all."

"Y-yeah," Zatte said. The medication was taking effect, dulling the pain in her arms, but there was still a tear in her eye nonetheless.

"It didn't feel right letting you two come here without me. I don't think Luffa's a xan-nil'Dor like you do, and even if she is, I don't think it's worth all our necks, but... well, we ought to stick together, right?"

"You could have just asked to tag along," Zatte said. "I've been on this planet for weeks. You're telling me you've been hiding in my luggage the whole time?"

"I snuck out to do some scouting," she said. "Kept tabs on you while you were looking for this place, checking for anything you might have missed. I thought about giving you a hand with the Recollector, but you seemed to be doing well on that. So when you came down here I stayed in the bag and waited to see if you needed any help. Then I heard you scream."

Zatte glanced toward the Recollector. "It's going to bring the Ur-Ember here," she said. "I thought I could redirect its energy, cut off it's power source, but..." She held up her now-bandaged hands to complete the thought.

"But you managed to turn it on, right?" Keda asked. “You have control over it.”

"Yes, but we can't cancel this program while it's in operation," Zatte said. She tried to stand, but couldn't find the strength.

"Don't move," Keda said. "That thing did a real number on you, Zatte."

"We're out of time!" Zatte said. "Our only chance is to try what I did before."

"It didn't work before," Keda said.

"I know, but I was trying to be subtle about how I rerouted its power. If I do something more drastic, it might--"

"It might kill you this time," Keda said.

Zatte swallowed hard and shut her eye. "We'll all die if I don't do something."

Keda looked at the Recollector, then back at Zatte. "I'll take a look at it. I'm pretty good with computers. If I can't come up with anything, we'll try it your way."

*******

Far away, Luffa and the Shockmaster were still fighting. Luffa's face was covered in blood, and part of her face was swollen and bruised. The Shockmaster’s transformation had seemingly healed the injuries he had sustained earlier, but since then, Luffa had managed to deal him several new ones. He was favoring his left arm, and gasping for air. They stared at each other for a moment, then rushed in and attacked at the same time, their arms and legs moving in a blur.

She was winning. She was sure of it. With each engagement, she was getting a little bit more of an advantage. She had trained for endurance, figuring that the key was to be able to go the distance against the Shockmaster, and so far that analysis had been correct. His transformation had brought all his power to bear, but at the cost of that seemingly limitless stamina he had relied upon before. It was almost the reverse outcome of their first fight. The only difference was that their power was much more evenly matched in the end, meaning that Luffa couldn't put him away quickly. All she could do was whittle him down until he succumbed to exhaustion.

Yesterday, that outcome would have satisfied her completely, but not now. Now, she couldn't stop wondering if Zatte was able to shut down the Recollector.

It shouldn't have mattered! If they died, then it would only be because they had been too weak to prevent it. If Luffa were stronger, she could have beaten the Shockmaster and gone to help by now. If the Extraligans were stronger, they could have taken a more direct approach to defending their planet. And maybe they all were strong enough after all. It wasn't over yet. But it shouldn't have mattered to Luffa. There was no dishonor in losing. There was no reason to worry about it, especially when the fight was still up for grabs.

Even so, it still gnawed at the back of Luffa’s mind. Not only Zatte, but the Extraligans she had met. Places she had visited on the planet. That stupid hockey arena she and Zatte had gone to. Luffa caught herself wondering if the arena might have been damaged in the invasion. Was she actually worried about the building?

For a brief moment, she thought she could finally understand the Shockmaster's goals. He was absurdly old. In this day and age, he was a relic that deserved to be forgotten, except he was too powerful to be ignored. He wanted to bring back a world he had lost, because he couldn't bear to accept that it was gone.

She pitied him. He had outlived everything that had given his life meaning, but he was too powerful to die. Luffa often wondered if she was in store for a similar fate. To live out a long life as an unbeatable warrior, with no one to fight, and nothing to prove.

Maybe that was why she was so worried about losing a damned hockey arena. Deep down inside, she expected to go back there some day and pretend that it still held any significance to her. The thought of an old Saiyan woman hobbling through a derelict sports venue sickened her. She had half a mind to blow up the place today if they managed to win this war.

All this woolgathering allowed the Shockmaster to land a blow on Luffa's right ear. She paid him back for it, but the sharp pain and momentary loss of hearing reminded her of the way her mother used to discipline her as a little girl. Her mother had warned her about letting sentiment dull her combat instincts, but somehow Luffa couldn't bring herself to focus on that lesson. All she could think about was how her mother had been dead for years, and Luffa was probably the only one left in the universe who remembered her. When Luffa died, it would be as if her mother had never existed.

The Shockmaster nearly got her left ear, and Luffa swore under her breath as she counterattacked. What made her furious wasn't her mother, or the hockey arena, or any of the other distractions.

It was that the distractions actually seemed to help her fight somehow. The anxiety, the worry, the frustration, it all seemed like fuel being heaped onto a fire. Her thoughts drifted back to something she had said to her mother in a dream: "Why am I burning?"

And in the dream, her mother's answer: "Because you do."

It made no sense at the time. It still didn't. It was only a dream. But it stuck with her anyway. And somehow, as she pushed the Shockmaster closer and closer to his defeat, it seemed true to Luffa, even if she couldn't explain how. She didn’t question it. She simply allowed herself to feel, and to burn, and to fight on.

*******

Only a few minutes had passed, but Keda felt like she had been working for hours. This was probably due to the effects of the vial of potion she had taken from Zatte's supplies. One dose was enough to allow Zatte to enter a psychic communion with their allies on Planet Wist, but-- like a good Dorlun-- Zatte had packed extra, just in case something went wrong. It had been brewed specifically for Zatte's biochemistry, but fortunately Keda was close enough for it to work on her too.

As a result, she found herself in curiously existing in two realities. While she was standing in front of the Recollector in the cavern on Extraliga, she was simultaneously existing in a roadside bar in someone else's imagination. Time seemed to flow differently in this state, which had given her a chance to update the others and get a basic introduction to the Recollector's operation.

"This reminds me of the diagnostic programs on the star yacht," she said as she examined the Recollector's interface display. Most of the time, you can pause the sequence and have the computer rearrange the order of instructions to follow. But some stuff can't be canceled, like an engine shutdown. Once you're committed, it's not safe to stop halfway. You have to let it finish before you can move on to do something else."

"Are you saying this is a safety feature, Keda?" asked M'ranga. Keda had only heard of her. It had been Keda's understanding that she was a revolutionary guerilla who wore a gawdy costume, but Keda thought it looked pretty cool, although it wasn't nearly as colorful as she had been told. She also seemed a lot less chipper than Keda would have expected, although that was probably because of the situation they were in.

"It might be," Keda said. "I'm just thinking out loud. I mean, the Ur-Ember's dangerous, but even if the Recollector was just bringing a pottery shard back from the past, that would still take a lot of energy, I bet. At least as much as a starship engine. Cutting the process short might have been just as dangerous as letting it finish."

"Ruddy brilliant. Real glad you dropped in to tell us that, kid," said Scotch Woodcock. He looked like an unmade bed, if people slept with black leather sheets. She disliked him almost immediately because of the cigar in his mouth. Dorluns took a dim view of smoking, but there was a concerned look in his three eyes when she explained what had happened to Zatte, and this softened her first impression of the man. Also, it occurred to her that he had lived much longer than she had, and if she didn't find a way to deal with the Recollector, he was going to outlive her no matter what damage he did to his lungs.

"I'm just saying we need to quit thinking about how to undo this," Keda explained. "It's already happened. All we can do now is figure out where to put all that energy once it gets here. Redirect it someplace safe. Like venting drive plasma during an overload."

"What you're describing sounds like the power Zatte possesses," said Tobiko. Keda had heard he looked like some kind of swamp monster, but that description didn't seem to fit at all. She wondered if people in this roadhouse could assume whatever appearance they wished. The idea amused her enough to want to try altering her own appearance, but then she remembered that she already had that ability in the real world.

"You're right, but she'd never be able to handle energy on the order of magnitude we're talking about. Luffa might have the capacity, but she's busy, and I doubt she'd know how to do it. It'd be nice if we could just send it all away to someplace until we had time to deal with it. Wait..."

She stared at the Recollector and put a finger over her upper lip as she considered it. The others stared at her expectantly.

"What are you thinking, Keda?" M'ranga asked, unable to bear the suspense.

"Well, this is basically a time machine," Keda said. "It only works one way, past-to-present, but we can still use that. We've been worrying about stopping the Ur-Ember before it gets here and kills everybody, but 'before' and 'after' can be whatever we want them to be."

She placed her hands on the Recollector's surface and began entering commands. "Yeah... I think this can work. Let's just hope the Shockmaster doesn't show up again to try to stop us. I’m sure Luffa can keep him busy while I set this up."

"The hell are you talkin' about, lass?" Woodcock asked.

"I'm setting the Recollector to run another retrieval," Keda explained. "But before that, I'm adding in another step to wait for a really long time. Let's say, a billion years."

"What good will that do?" Tobiko asked.

"At the end of the billion years," Keda went on, "the Recollector will follow my next instruction, which is to retrieve the Ur-Ember. From this cavern. From this date in time, about a few minutes from now."

Woodcock was even more confused than before. "Bloody... hang on a minute," he pleaded.

"I think I understand," Tobiko said. "The Ur-Ember will arrive in that cavern very soon, but as it emerges into our era, it will immediately be plucked back into the timestream by the Recollector in the future."

"But it'll still arrive on Extraliga eventually," M'ranga objected. "Now, or a billion years from now, it'll still be dangerous to anyone living on the planet's surface! That's not a solution! We're just kicking the can down the road!"

"It's the best we can do," Keda said. "Besides, in a billion years, Extraliga's sun will be hotter than it is now, and Extraliga will be too hot to support life. It'll be a barren wasteland by then. There won't be anything left for the Ur-Ember to kill."

"Oh," M'ranga said sheepishly. "That's different."

"But what about the Extraliga of the present?" Tobiko asked. "For this plan to work, the Ur-Ember must arrive in this time, if only for a moment."

"I was hoping you could tell me," Keda said with a shrug. "I only know the Ur-Ember's radiation is dangerous. I'm guessing a short burst is safer than a long one, right?"

He nodded. "I can only make educated guesses, but I believe most of the population would survive a brief exposure, especially from a distance. However, you and Zatte would be right there when it happens. At such close range--!"

"We'll have to r-- we'll have to risk it," she said with a sigh. "I won't have time to get Zatte to safety. From the sound of it, timing is everything. I'll have to stay with the Recollector and set the schedule manually. That way I can be sure the Ur-Ember leaves as soon as it shows up. With any luck, we'll make it."

She finished making her preparations, and dragged Zatte to the base of the Recollector, figuring that its alien composition might make provide some protection. When there was only a minute remaining, she asked: "How do I disconnect from your telepathic link?"

"We've been over that with Zatte, kiddo," Woodcock grumbled. "We're with ya to the end, whatever happens."

She glared at him with a severe look that belied the difference in their ages. "My people are survivors," she said sternly. "Don't disrespect what Zatte and I are doing here by getting killed. If we’re dying here, then the least you can do is live. If not for yourselves, then do it for us, okay?"

Woodcock swallowed hard. "Awright, awright, don't get yer knickers in a twist. You wanna go it alone, fine. Anything else?"

Keda considered this for a moment. "If you see Luffa, tell her what happened. Tell her this was the best we could manage. She'll understand."

A few moments later, the roadhouse was gone from Keda’s mind, leaving her to her task. Zatte lay at her feet, half-asleep from the medication Keda had given her. Either it was stronger stuff than Keda thought, or Zatte's condition was worse than she realized. It was probably better this way. There wasn't much Zatte could do from here on.

In the last seconds remaining, Keda keyed in her best guess of the exact moment of the Ur-Ember's arrival, and said a prayer. Then she placed her hands on the Recollector's surface... and watched.

NEXT: The Surrender

#dragon ball #fanfiction #super saiyan #luffa #lssjluffafic #zatte #scotch woodcock #m'ranga: ensign liberty #tobiko #keda #the shockmaster #extraliga #i get a little self-conscious tagging this as dragon ball nowadays #at first it didn't seem like a problem #but now i'm pretty far afield from any dragon ball related material #aside from the super saiyan protagonist of course #on the other hand there's usually a lot of crap on the tag so i shouldn't feel too guilty

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h-styles-babes · 7 years ago

Text

No Control | Chapter Twelve

Summary:

Micky Bennett: college student, loyal friend, aspiring nurse, One Direction fan, Harry Styles enthusiast. Her best friend, Trevor, wins tickets to a show in New Jersey with meet and greet passes. Micky expects a quick photo op with the boys and a great night at the concert with her best friend. What she gets a whole lot more than she bargained for.

To read previous chapters, you can go here.

*Please feel free to reblog and send feedback. It’s much appreciated :)*

*Gif is not mine.*

TWELVE

It’s only nine in the morning, so we decide to make the trip out to Manchester first. Figure we’ll start there and work our way back toward home as the day goes on. Georgie wants to do some shopping in the city and get something good for lunch, since we really only have small diners in Wilmslow. We’re at the shops for a few hours, window shopping and actual shopping. I make myself limit my purchases, since I only have so much room in my suitcase and I’m not paying for another checked bag on the flight back.

Around noon I get a text from Trevor, checking in on me.

Hey, hoe. How was ur flight? Good, got a nap in. Hanging out with Georgie in Manchester now. Tell her I said hi and I miss her. Bring me back something cute from River Island, yeah? Do u think I have River Island money? I’ll wire u some cash. Must be nice being a rich boy. Speaking of rich boys, have u heard from Harold? Not since Saturday. Douche. Hey, be nice. He’s busy, u know that. Yeah, I know. Still. Could at least send u a text. And I could just as easily text him, but I haven’t. Two way street, ya know? So then y haven’t u? Cuz I’m not expecting anything of him. Casual, remember? Ur so full of shit. U know u still want his dick. Of course I do, but he’s in America, most likely. Not much we can do with an ocean between us. Isn’t he on a break? Could be back in the UK Who goes to the UK for a week just to come back to America for a few months? You. Fuck off. Love u too, bitch. Goodbye Trevor I’m serious about the clothes! I know you are. I’ll send you pics. Thanks boo!

I laugh and pocket my phone.

“Who was that? Trev?” Georgie asks, already walking in the direction of the River Island store.

I nod. “Yeah, says hi, and he wants me to get him something from River Island.”

“Can this be the last store? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, I’ll get him a shirt or something then we can head to eat. I’m getting hungry, too.”

I have great luck in the shop, so I pick up a button up shirt in Trev’s size, see that he’s transferred a hundred bucks into my account, and make the purchase. The shirt’s only fifty bucks, so I text him to take the rest back, but he tells me it’s part of his dad’s monthly guilt allowance, so he leaves it.

With the extra money, I take Georgie to a Red’s True Barbecue, because she has a weird obsession with American barbecue that I’ve never quite understood. She’s never actually been to America, but I described the ribs and pulled pork and coleslaw to her once, and she’s been hooked ever since. We obviously don’t have a barbecue place in Wilmslow, so Manchester or London are her only opportunities to get it, and it’s too expensive in London when she’s there for school.

It’s nearly two when we’re making our way back to our little town, and Georgie has let me drive again, claiming she’s still tired from her drive from London to Manchester over two months ago when she got done with school. I don’t mind though, because I genuinely do miss driving. It’s on our way back that Georgie grabs ahold of my left hand and jerks it into her view, nearly making me swerve into the next lane.

“Jesus! What are you doing?” I shout, trying to get my hand back. “You nearly made me wreck.” She won’t give my hand back, though, gripping my wrist tightly so I can’t put it back on the wheel.

“Where did you get this?” she asks, running her finger over Harry’s ring on my thumb.

I press my lips together and glance at her quickly before turning back to the road.

“No!” she gasps out. “Are you fucking serious? He gave you one of his rings?”

I shrug, trying to play it off. “And a few of his shirts.”

“Micky Starr Bennett! How well did you exactly get to know this man?”

“I spent a few days with him, Georgie,” I tell her, finally getting my hand back to place on the wheel. “He’s really nice, and we got to know each other pretty well.”

“So you didn’t just spend all your time together in bed?”

“No, obviously not,” I huff. “We went out and did things, we talked, we hung out with Trevor and Harry’s bandmates. I actually spoke to the guy. We got to be friends.”

“I’d say a little more than friends who fuck if he’s giving you one of his rings.”

“He said he wanted me to have something to remember him by in case we never got to see each other again.”

“That’s disgustingly sweet, but hasn’t this guy ever heard of a mobile? They’re great at being able to keep in touch with people.”

As she finishes her sentence, my phone begins to ring in the cup holder between us, where I set it when I got in the car. I glance down quickly to see Harry’s name—which I did end up changing to Harry Edward for his contact—flash across the screen, as well as a photo we took together while we were at the museum, James Dean in the background. My stomach flutters at the sight, a quick reminder that my days with him actually happened and aren’t just a figment of my overactive imagination.

“Evidently, he does,” Georgie mumbles, astonished that he’s actually calling me. Honestly, I’m a little surprised, too, considering I haven’t heard from him since the day he left. I know he had a show in Ohio and then a short break, but I didn’t know much else.

“Can you answer it and put it on speaker, please?”

“You’re gonna talk to Harry Styles while I’m in the car?” she shrieks. “I’m not prepared to hear his voice, M.”

“Oh, shut it and just answer my phone, before it goes to voicemail, you freak.”

She shoots me a glare, but slides the little answer button and presses the button for speaker when it shows up.

“Hello,” I answer.

“Hiiiiii,” Harry draws out, making me smile at the low, honey-like tone of his voice. It’s only been a few days, and I haven’t realized how much I had missed the sound. “How are you?”

“I’m good, Harry, how are you?” I ask. Georgie lets out a small choking sound beside me, but thankfully it’s muffled by the sound of the tires on the road.

“Good, enjoying my days off before getting back on the road. Where are you? It sounds a little funny.”

“I’m on the road and I’ve got you on speaker.”

“Ooh, where you headed?” he asks.

“I’m actually on my way back to Wilmslow from Manchester. Spent the morning out there with my mate.”

There’s a few moments of pause in the conversation, and Georgie looks between me and the phone. I glance down with a furrowed brow to see if the call was dropped, but it says he’s still on the line.

I hear his throat clear on the other end, finally. “You’re in England?”

I nod, even though I realize he can’t see me. “Yeah, got some time off of research, so I booked a flight and came out here to spend time with my family before school starts back up. Just got in last night.”

“You’re in England?” he asks again.

I chuckle. “Yeah, Harry, that’s what I said. Where are you?” I ask mainly to change the subject so I don’t have to answer again.

“Holmes Chapel.”

I feel my eyebrows jump up on my forehead, and Georgie’s hand clamp down over my left bicep in shock. “Yeh serious?”

“Yeah, flew in yesterday morning. We all flew back to spend time with family.”

“Oh, wow,” I breathe out. “I suppose your mum’s glad to have you home.”

“Yeah, surprised her yesterday. She cried,” he chuckles. “What are you doing today?”

I look over at Georgie for ideas, but she shrugs and shakes her head.

“Nothing. Just hanging out until my parents get home, I s’pose.”

“Can I see you?”

“What? Today? I don’t have a car. I’m using my friend’s.” The possibility of seeing Harry again is making my heart race, but the reality that I don’t have a way to get to him when he’s only a half hour away is making it plummet.

“I’ll drive out to see you. Mum’s out for a girl’s day anyway.”

“Harry, are you sure?”

He chuckles, and I can imagine him running his hand through his hair, pulling it back from his head. “Yeah. Kinda want to meet your parents anyway. They sound like proper legends.”

I groan at the thought of Harry meeting my parents. And then imagining my mum meeting Harry properly makes me groan even louder. Georgie stifles a laugh beside me, probably correctly guessing the scenarios being played out in my head.

“Oh, c’mon, love. I wanna see you. How long will your parents be out? I miss you, princess.” His tone drops to that gravelly voice he uses during sex to tease me when he won’t let me touch, and my stomach clenches. I have to refrain from rubbing my thighs together when he says, “I really need you to see you, Micky.”

I see Georgie’s eyebrows raise and she mouths, “Princess?” to me with a smirk. She’s biting on her fist to stop herself from laughing.

I clear my throat and clench my fists around the steering wheel. “Um, Harry. My friend’s still in the car.”

“Oh, fuck.” I hear some sort of shuffling. “Shit, sorry. We really have to stop talking about this shit over the phone.”

“Hey, you’re the one that always brings it up. And you’re the idiot who left his phone open on a table while you used the restroom.”

“Yeah, well you let me start talking while you’ve got me on speaker with your friend in the car.”

“I thought I had made that pretty obvious.”

He laughs. “Whatever. How much longer ’til you get home?”

“About half an hour.”

“Perfect, I’ll leave right now. Been pretty bored being home by myself. Waited all afternoon to call you so I’d catch you at a decent time for New York. Turns out I didn’t have to. Send me your address.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon, mister.”

“Bye, love. See you soon.”

Harry ends the call so that I don’t have to, and Georgie and I sit in the car in silence for a few moments, her gaze never leaving my face, which I keep pointedly towards the road.

“Princess, huh?” she finally asks, and I can hear the smirk in her voice. “Sounds a little bit like a sexual thing. Do you call him ‘Daddy?’” she asks over a chuckle, fully expecting me to deny it like she’s crazy.

I’ve never been able to lie to Georgie, however, and when I give her no response, she gasps.

“Oh, my God. You do! Holy shit. I don’t want to know. Kinky bastard.”

I have Georgie text Harry my address from my phone after we hang up, and listen to her babble some nonsense about texting the Harry Styles. I let her go on for about two minutes without saying anything, because this moment is definitely huge for our fifteen year old selves who only daydreamed about even getting to see the boys in person some day. Georgie had always been more of a Liam girl, but we could both appreciate the other boys, as well.

The rest of the trip, she asks me about how Harry was like as a person, and she sighs dreamily when I tell her he’s even more kind and caring than we could have imagined. I tell her about his love of books and poetry and how we spent a few hours just talking about nothing and everything the first night we met (I leave out that the talking happened after we’d both gone down on each other, however). I tell her about getting to hang out with all four boys when we were out in New York and finding them even more endearing and amazing after the few hours we spent together. I ask her if she knew that Louis was going to be a dad, and I feel like an idiot when she says she already knew, but she assures me that it was in a lot more gossip rags in the UK than it was in the states. I still blame spending my whole summer in the lab with my eyes glued to slides under a microscope for my lack of knowledge.

When we pull up to my house, a black Range Rover, much like the one Paul drove in New York, is parked at the curb. The windows are tinted pretty dark, so I can’t see inside, but I know that it’s Harry, most likely messing about on his phone to pass the time. I see him open his door as I park and turn off Georgie’s car, a smile splitting across my face. He looks good and very much like the uni boy he wants to be in his dark wash jeans with rips at the knees, dark brown leather boots, plain dark blue t-shirt and a pair of sunnies. He slips his mobile in his pocket and smiles as I throw open the door, skipping down the drive to meet him.

Harry opens his arms for me and I laugh as he lifts me off the ground, holding me securely to him as he spins us around. He tucks his face into my neck, his lips pressing warm kisses against the skin as my fingers make their way into his hair, having already missed the silky feel of the ringlets. I feel more than hear him hum against my skin, and I take a deep breath, savoring the scent of him—his Tom Ford cologne mixed with the mint of the gum he’s constantly chewing.

“Missed you, pet,” he murmurs, his voice muffled by his face in my neck. His chest rumbles against mine, though, making me warm and fuzzy all over.

“Missed you too, H,” I sigh and turn my head to press my lips to his temple.

He finally sets my feet back in the floor, and I move to step away, but his arms at my waist pull me flush against him and his head dips down to capture my lips with his. The kiss is soft and sweet, his tongue barely sweeping against my lips, and I hum at the feeling of him pressed against me again. It’s only been a few days, but I missed him so much, and I don’t know what I would have done if I had never experienced this again.

We would stay wrapped up in each other forever, but we’re broken apart by the slamming of the car door behind me, and the sound of Georgie’s boots slowly tapping on the pavement. I nearly forgot she was still here, even though I had just gotten out of her car two minutes before. Harry pulls his head back from mine and straightens up to his full height, licking his lips. I clear my throat and turn in his arms so my side is pressed against his but we’re both facing my best friend.

“Harry, this is my best mate, Georgina. Georgie, this is Harry,” I introduce, like Georgie has been living under a rock for the last five years.

Much to my relief—even though I trust her immensely not to go complete fangirl in my drive—Georgie simply smiles and offers a wave at Harry, keeping a few feet between them. “Hey, nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Harry smiles, and I can see Georgie press her lips together when his dimples come out. I bite my lip to keep from chuckling. “How long have you and Micky known each other?”

“Since we were—what? Nine, I think,” she answers. I nod in confirmation. “Been like sisters ever since.”

“Sure beat the hell out of the brother I have,” I joke. Tommy and I get along fine now, and we’ve never had a bad relationship, but he was the typical older brother when we were younger. I was never allowed to hang out with him and his friends, and I was the butt of his jokes well into our adolescence. But, with the five year age difference between us, Tommy was my protector—and usually cockblock—when I was in secondary and he was in uni. Scared the boys I brought home half to death, resulting in teenage Micky not getting a whole lot of male attention until he was well moved out by twenty-two.

“At least you have an actual sibling,” she counters with a raised eyebrow. Georgie has always been bitter about the fact that she’s an only child, mainly because it’s meant her parents keep a pretty tight hold over what she does. She’d always been jealous of how laid back my parents are, resulting in her spending a majority of her time at mine whenever she could, not that anyone minded.

“Eh,” Harry shrugs. “They’re not that special.”

Georgie snorts out a laugh before putting her hand out, palm up. “Alright, give me my keys, Bennett.”

“Leaving so soon?” Harry asks, genuinely surprised at her sudden departure.

“Mick’s got an empty house and I’m sure you’ll want to…spend some time together before her parents get home,” Georgie says with a suggestive raise of her brows. “I’m sure I’ll be back over later, though. Her parents like to feed me.” She smiles big and cheesy before rounding her car to get in the driver’s side. She waves at us through the window as she back down the drive before pulling onto the street.

“Come on, it’s getting chilly out here,” I urge, pulling him toward my house. The wind has started to pick up and the sun has disappeared behind the clouds, making the previously tolerable day require jumpers and jeans. I get us into the house quickly and kick off my shoes by the front door, Harry doing the same.

“Want a cuppa?” I ask, heading toward the kitchen, glancing at him over my shoulder.

Harry trails behind me, looking over the photos my parents have spread around the house. “Yeah, that’d be great.” I leave him in our sitting room to look at some of old vacation photos and go to put on a kettle.

We’ve got a variety of teas in a cupboard above the sink, so I sort through them, trying to find something that might be suitable. English breakfast tea sounds a little boring, but it’s getting a bit too chilly for a fruity tea that my mom likes. “How do you feel about chamomile?” I ask, my voice slightly raised so he can hear me.

I don’t realize, however, that he has stealthily entered the kitchen behind me, thanks to his boots being off, and he answers from only about a metre away, startling me.

“I like chamomile with a bit of sugar,” he agrees, his voice smooth and warm. I feel his arms warp around my middle as I grab for the box I want, his hands diving under the elastic hem of my shirt to my skin. His hands are surprisingly warm, except for the cool metal of his rings at his knuckles. He hums and presses his lips to my exposed shoulder. “I like this shirt.”

The box tumbles from my hands onto the counter when he bites lightly at my skin and his hands trail to hold my sides. “You smell good, too.”

“You’re gonna have to behave for a bit if you still want tea,” I tell him, reaching a hand back to wind in his hair and play with the little ringlets.

“I’ll be good, promise,” he assures, pressing more chaste kisses along my shoulders and up to my cheek. His chest is warm against my back, and I can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing into me, but he’s good and just holds me to him. “Just missed you, is all.”

I can’t help the smile that touches my lips at his confession. “Missed you too, Harry.” I turn my head and catch his lips in a short peck, not letting it progress any further since the kettle starts whistling.

Harry lets me go as I turn to switch off the burner, and I direct him to where the mugs are, just by the cabinet full of tea. I pour hot water in and submerge the little bags. There’s a platter on the kitchen table with sugar on it, so I direct Harry to grab it before leading him into the living room. We settle in next to each other on the couch and I reach for the throw blanket on the back, pulling it across my lap. It’s odd to me to be getting cozy like this in the middle of August, but I wouldn’t trade English summers for anything.

THIRTEEN

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #No Control #one direction

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alligotleftismyjim · 8 years ago

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TV SERIES ASKS shadowhunters /and/ star trek (both please 😁) cause I'm nothing if not predictable & a total stan of ur blog

Kay, so this took a whole lot longer than expected cause college decided to dump shit on me all at once so some of the Shadowhunters feelings are out of date but I don’t have enough time to go back and rewrite all that but I’m just gonna have a brief scream about ep10 cause good goddamn that was intense. And I’m gonna apologize for the massive post ahead but I’m on mobile and don’t know how to do a read more so if you don’t want to read my thoughts on Shadowhunters and Star Trek, feel free to scroll by. Secondly, @sybil-branson-jr I’m so sorry it took me so long to answer this and I’m totally not worthy to have such an awesome follower like you and your blog is awesome and sunny and makes me happy 💛💛💛💛

send me a tv series and I’ll tell you:

Shadowhuntersmy all-time ultimate fave character: MAGNUS BANE. He’s my all time fave for so many reasons but mainly cause he’s such a complex character and we’re FINALLY getting to see more aspects of his personality and it’s really really nice to see my sexual orientation represented in a way that doesn’t make it seem like all bisexuals are up for threesomes and that we can’t be in a monogamous relationship

a character I didn’t used to like but now do: I absolutely used to hate Maryse. But after ep8 and the seeing her begin to realize her past actions were pretty shitty, she’s starting to grow on me. I’m a fan of multi-dimensional characters and seeing her struggle with being a good (emotions cloud judgement) shadowhunter while having to go through the thing with Robert and trying to be a good mother while still following orders and wanting her son to be happy but still having trouble accepting downworlders is really interesting to me. You can tell she really does want Alec to be happy and that she really does care for Jace but she is still a shadowhunter and that creates a really interesting internal struggle that I really wanna see more of.

a character I used to like but now don’t: This doesn’t really apply? Cause I love them all. Valentine is a massive asshole but he makes a really good villain. And Iris was just introduced this season and again, she’s supposed to be a villain so you were never really supposed to like her.

a character I’m indifferent about: I’m pretty indifferent about Lydia but it’s mainly because she hasn’t been in that many episodes and we don’t have much of a backstory for her. We know she was in love and he was killed so now she’s dedicated to her work. But that’s about it. She’s a badass shadowhunter and I’m dying to see more of her.

a character who deserved better: ALL OF THEM. They all deserve to be happy and not have to worry about the literal world ending. Magnus deserves recognition for the sheer amount of stuff he does to save everyone and he deserves to not be treated like shit because he’s a warlock. Alec deserves to be happy with his boyfriend and not feel so guilty over feeling like he failed as a shadowhunter because he couldn’t keep Jace from Valentine, he let a demon into the Institute and he killed Jocelyn. Isabelle deserves better cause the smartest shadowhunter in the Institute doesn’t deserve to be relegated to an almost background character whose current storyline revolves around drug addiction. Jace deserves better cause poor guy was psychologically and physically abused by Valentine, then rescued, then forced to go on the run because the Clave thought he was working with Valentine. Luke deserves better because he had just gotten Jocelyn back and then Valentine’s demon killed her. And he’s been such a good father figure to Clary and Simon but we’ve barely seen him this season and so far he’s lost the love of his life, reunited with his sister only for her to be taken from him by the man who betrayed him and turned him into a werewolf, and was lied to and tricked by one of the only people that’s still alive that he cares about. I could go on and on.

a ship I’ve never been able to get into: Alec and literally any female character ever. He’s gay. As in into guys. He’s not bisexual. He’s not straight or pansexual or anything else. He’s gay and his boyfriend is the High Warlock of Brooklyn. And I’m not super into Alec x Jace but that’s mainly because I can’t see them as anything other than brothers and parabatai.

a ship I’ve never been able to get over: MALEC. And it’s not just because they’re the only canon couple on the show. I just love their dynamic and the fact that they’re both figuring out their relationship together. Matt and Harry’s chemistry makes the relationship feel so real and natural and I applaud them for caring so much about Magnus and Alec and how dedicated they are to getting the relationship right.

a cute, low-key ship: I’m so here for Clary x Isabelle. We got a few Clizzy scenes last season and early on this season. And before the whole yin-fen mess, they were getting closer and their relationship could easily read as the beginnings of a romantic relationship.

an unpopular ship but I still enjoyed it: I’m not really sure what ships would be unpopular? Cause I’ve seen people ship just about everyone with each other? And typically the really unpopular ships are unpopular for reasons I agree.

a ship that was totally wrong and never should have happened: I understand why it happened but I am definitely not a fan of Magnus x Camille. I fully respect that Camille helped Magnus out of a bad place in his life but abusive and manipulative relationships are never ever okay. Thankfully, everyone seems to agree that Camille was a terrible person and I haven’t seen anyone ship them romantically. I’ve only ever seen Camille as an ex in fics or as someone who causes tension between Magnus and Alec.

my favourite storyline/moment: the wedding kiss scene will go down as one of my absolute favorite moments but I’m a big sucker for any malec scene. I absolutely lost it when Alec met Madzie and I really wanna see Alec with more small children now.

a storyline that never should have been written: I’m not a big fan of the yin-fen storyline just because I don’t seen much of a point to it right now. I’m trying to keep an open mind because so far, the show has been amazing. I really hope there’s a point to this whole storyline so I won’t say I don’t think it should’ve been written yet, but I’m just not a fan.

my first thoughts on the show: the whole reason I started watching was because I saw people on my dash royally loosing their shit over some couple (malec) on some fantasy show (shadowhunters). I’m a sucker for an awesome canon couple and once I started watching the show, I marathoned all of season 1 in like three nights over the summer. I’m a sucker for a well done fantasy show (early seasons of Supernatural) and, slightly questionable special effects aside, I felt shadowhunters was really well done. For being based off a book series with a questionable author and for seemingly flying under the radar until the show, I was completely taken with the characters and the storylines.

my thoughts now: I’m in love. I’m completely obsessed. As you can tell, my blog has completely shifted from a Star Trek blog to a Shadowhunters blog. Part of that is from the lack of Star Trek on my dash and not having new content every week like a tv show, but I’ve also fallen in love with the characters and storylines and I firmly believe that this cast is the most amazing cast ever. They care so much about the show and their characters and they all seem like they’re awesome friends.

Star Trek (I’m gonna do the reboot movies cause that’s what got me into Star Trek and I have more opinions about the movies than any of the tv series)

send me a tv series and I’ll tell you:my all-time ultimate fave character: LEONARD H MCCOY 4LIFE. I love my grumpy southern doctor who acts like he doesn’t care but actually cares so deeply about his friends and everyone on the ship cause man can I relate to that

a character I didn’t used to like but now do: not applicable because they are all my children and I love them all

a character I used to like but now don’t: again with the not applicable

a character I’m indifferent about: Carol Marcus. Which is mainly Abrams’ fault since he apparently has a phobia of giving out characters’ backstory. I’d love to see more of her because I think she’s incredibly brilliant and she’d be a great addition to the rest of the crew.

a character who deserved better: ALL OF THEM! Kirk deserves to not feel like he’ll never live up to his dad’s legacy. Spock deserves to not feel like he doesn’t fit in anywhere because of his half Vulcan-half human heritage. McCoy deserves to be treated like a goddamn part of the triumvirate because he fuCKING IS. I AM SO SALTY ABOUT HIM BARELY BEING A PART OF THE BIG THREE IN THE FIRST MOVIE AND BEING PRACTICALLY WRITTEN OUT OF MOTHERFUCKING SECOND MOVIE. PRAISE THE LORD FOR STAR TREK BEYOND AND THE INCREDIBLE LEONARD MCCOY BEING TREATED LIKE THE VERY IMPORTANT MAIN CHARACTER THAT HE IS. I have lots of feelings about how his character has been treated and I could rant forever about it

a ship I’ve never been able to get into: I was never really able to get super into any ships that had Chekov in them just because Anton looked so young in the first two movies. But then Beyond happened and apparently Chekov was hitting the gym on the five year mission cause our friendly Russian navigator got ripped.

a ship I’ve never been able to get over: MCKIRK. I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS SHIP!!! The grumpy southern doctor loves the literal ray of sunshine captain. And the literal ray of sunshine captain loves the grumpy southern doctor. And they’re already such good friends and obviously care about each other (“I couldn’t just leave you there lookin’ all pathetic”). They just seem to fit together. McCoy is able to ground Kirk when he’s in danger of getting too wrapped up in his own head and Kirk is able to bring out McCoy’s more adventurous side and they just make each other better. I could continue to wax poetic but this post is already gonna be massive

a cute, low-key ship: Spuhura is my jam. Like cute little finger kisses in the hallway or turbo lift or under the table in the mess hall. And Uhura being able to talk to Spock in Vulcan and give him that little piece of home is just adorable

an unpopular ship but I still enjoyed it: again, I don’t really know any unpopular ships? I can only think of Khan x Bones but I don’t see much of it and I really don’t like it.

a ship that was totally wrong and never should have happened: Khan x anyone. I just can’t get behind that. Especially Khan x Bones. Just nope.

my favourite storyline/moment: I really enjoyed all of Beyond simply because it felt like it finally got back to the root of what Star Trek means: to explore new cultures with an open mind and offer up the best of humanity. So that’s probably my favorite storyline. My favorite moment was probably when it was revealed, in a completely un-dramatic way, that Sulu was gay. It was such a small moment but the reveal was done is such a quiet and nonchalant way that, it seemed to me, the writes sought to normalize the fact that Sulu has a husband and an adorable daughter. Which is awesome. Whenever a straight character is revealed to have a spouse or children, there’s never this big dramatic reveal so why should it be any different for a same-sex couple? I dunno. I just thought it was a really sweet moment and a nice nod to George Takei and the original series. Plus we had Simon Pegg basically say ‘fuck it’ and made everyone some orientation other than straight.

a storyline that never should have been written: I don’t get why they had to kill off Amanda in the first movie? Like? Spock’s planet was already destroyed and it’s not like he and Kirk bonded over both losing a parent? It just seemed pretty pointless to me plus all the scenes we got with Spock and Amanda were so sweet. I would’ve loved to have seen more of them

my first thoughts on the show: I think I remember being immediately engrossed in the movie. Since it opens in space, I was instantly pulled into this amazing futuristic world. And then I got to see cocky young Kirk and bby Spock then cocky older Kirk and sassy older Spock. AND THEN I got to meet my favorite salty southern doctor and I was never the same

my thoughts now: *aggressively hums theme music* I love Star Trek so much. To me, it showcases the best of what humanity has to offer and it shows us how to embrace other cultures and beliefs. Especially with the current political situation (I’m in the US), it’s seems more important now to be tolerant and accepting of people from other cultures and ethnic groups. I saw a post going around a little bit ago that was talking about how the person thought they should honor Anton. They pointed out Chekov was always supposed to show how the US and Russia would be able to overcome the tension between the countries. So the OP said they thought it’d be a nice nod to the original point of the character of Chekov to have a new navigator on the Enterprise and have them be a Muslim woman and I whole heartedly agree. I don’t want to see Chekov be killed off. Just have him be transferred to another ship and let the Enterprise have a new badass Muslim lady as the navigator. Or any other minority that is underrepresented

#shadowhunters #star trek #asks #it's so long #i'm so sorry #i'm not computer savvy enough to make it not so long

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