#shes learnt when to use the word 'ugh' i love her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thequeenb · 4 months ago

Text

The Perfect Ending

2 whole years..who would ever believe that Poppy would be the relationship type? Not me. I know what a lot of you are wondering what the hell we were up to the past years..well let me fill you up.

“Are you done packing? The flight leaves in literally 40 minutes” I say with a pinch of annoyance because one thing about being with Poppy is that you will always be late

“You can’t rush beauty darling” she looks at me over the bathroom mirror and gives me a wink. Ugh sometimes I hate how attractive she is

After Collage ended and we graduated with both our degrees we decided to take a holiday to her Miami Beach house..I know right?

We arrived to our gate and we finally settled down to the plane, of course we sit first class you didn’t even have to wonder.

“Well we have 2 hours so if you excuse me I will get on with my skincare routine” she says and the flashbacks come back almost immediately of our first hookup in her room

“Well your skin looks like shit Hughes so let me do you a favour” she straddle my lap and I am probably looking up at her with starry eyes because she has a satisfied smirk on her face

“I didn’t knew you had a soft spot for me Poppy but a girl can take a break” I wink at her and she rolls her eyes at me..how adorable I always loved when she did that

“If you are my rival you better look good” she casually says and why did I get turned on suddenly? I realise how close she is and how her breasts are pressed against mine. Damn it stop being so horny! But how can I not? Her perfectly glossed lips, her beautiful silk blonde hair..her soft hands working on my face..it’s almost too much

“Bea for the last time do you want champagne? Sorry she apparently has a hearing problem” Poppy says to the flight attendant and I roll my eyes nodding

“I thought after you asked me out you would stop bullying me” I stick my tongue out and I can see a small smile playing on her lips

“Well tell me what got you all parched” she hands me the champagne flute and gives me a smile I could never resist

“That’s for you to find out Min-Sinclair, in the meantime I want to focus to you” I place my hand on her thigh ever so flirty and she lets a small gasp escape her lips

“Careful what you wish for Bea..I don’t play nice, you should be the only one who knows that”

And she is right..if I close my eyes I can pin point the exact moments she tried to ruin me, but on the other side i can almost feel all the times she made me feel like no one ever did before

“Well? Are we playing dirty?” She locks eyes with me and I settle my champagne down.

Her eyes never leaving mine she watches me flip my hair back seductively

“I feel so worked up Poppy..maybe you can help me” this phrase reminded me of that time we fought for the crown..how we had a cat fight in the fountain..how much I wanted her

“I feel so worked up Poppy” it’s the only words that escape my lips “maybe you can help me unwind” are you kidding me? You literally slapped her, dragged her across the fountain and ruined her manicure and that’s what you are going to say?

Interestingly enough she doesn’t look angry anymore..I can feel her heat radiating off her body and she slams me against the fountain, water splashes everywhere as her tongue goes playfully in my mouth and all I can feel is her

I blink a few times trying to cool down and she knows what kind of effect she has on me because she smirks and gets back on her seat. Sigh she is not someone to play with I learnt that from the first time she approached me

Our plane finally lands and a private car was waiting for us to take us back to the house.

I didn’t expect anything less..the car pulls up to a gate and when they open I can see a beautiful house and palm trees everywhere decorating the big garden

The car finally stops and Poppy hurries to open my door. I step out and I try my best not to gasp

“You can gasp Farmsville this is far from the land you grew up on” she winks at me and I roll my eyes

We walk inside and the house is beautiful as expected but what catches my eye is the big window where you can see the beach, the waves the sunset

“This is where I came when you humiliated me in front of all my father’s clients and the whole school” she casually says but a pinch of guilt fills my heart, it wasn’t my proudest moment

I hold the award in my hands and I can’t believe I finally beat Poppy Min-Sin bitch at her own little game. She stormed out after I humiliated her and her parents but why do I feel guilty? Isn’t that what I planned for since I first got here?

“Make a speech make a speech make a speech” everyone is chanting and I finally feel the weight of the award in my hand..the weight of what I just did to Poppy

I hold her tight, a small tear escaped my eye but she just smiles at me giving me a gentle kiss on my forehead “Don’t be sad..remind me to punish you later for that night”

I laugh and I wipe my tears getting my attention back to the window. The waves perfectly collide with the sand and I get the perfect idea

“Let’s go to the beach I am dying to watch the sunset with you” is it my idea or did my proposition made her nervous? She quickly recovers and offers me a smile. Sure she says and she leads me to the coast

She holds my hand tight and for a moment everything looks perfect. The sun is going down and the deep orange colour blends beautifully with the blue sky..the birds fly freely in the air and Poppy looks more than gorgeous under the sunset

I must have been daydreaming for a moment because when I regain my focus Poppy is down on one knee. Excuse me!?

“I get my dress dirty for this so you better say yes” she takes a deep breath and continues

“Since the moment that I met you you have been nothing but a challenge for me, even in the beginning you didn’t know how to dress”

I roll my eyes but I can start feel the tears forming in my eyes, I can’t believe this is happening

“I didn’t even bat an eye at you but you decided to make my life a living hell and I promised to make yours even worse”

“I fell for you since you first kissed me but then I heard that hog calling video and I wanted to go deaf” she chuckles

“I didn’t imagine I could feel this way but you proved to be a worthy opponent and someone who kept me always on my toes..when I found out of your affair with Kingsley I should have used it and destroy you but it only made me more sad”

Now my tears run freely like a waterfall but she is quick to wipe them for me..I didn’t realise I fell to my knees to her eye level..holding her hand so tight

“And since then I knew I didn’t want to be with anyone but you..someone who always challenges me and changes me for the better so that only leaves me with one question”

I gasp when she reaches and opens a small velvet box revealing the most beautiful diamond ring I have ever seen

“Bea Hughes will you marry me?”

I immediately scream yes and she struggles to put the ring on fast enough, we are already covered in sand kissing each other like there is no tomorrow

“I can’t believe you proposed!!” I scream happily and I am not the only one cheering because when I turn around I watch all our friends and family smiling at us “No you didn’t!!”

Zoey hugs me first spectating on my beautiful ring and then comes my parents which I am surprised Poppy flew from Farmsvile.

“From a farm girl to your fiancé how are you feeling?” I smile at her and she simply roll her eyes at me

“Don’t make me regret proposing Hughes”

And that’s how our story ended..watching the sunset with my fiancé gasp! From enemies to lovers and from lovers to newly weds..who knew the two hot rivals from Belvoire could ever end like this? I bet the T would love an inside story about our wedding..I am just kidding..or am I?

Kisses, the T

Tag list: @indecisive-chaos @kiara-36 @ognenniyvolk @somewillwin @ghalind @sergeant-pepper-loves-choices @dibberdipper @aiswood @alexlabhont @uselesslesbianfr @wolfietheduckyou @somin-yin @stanzoeywade @uhh-the-green-thing @jmojellybae @simp-pony @made-me-deep-blue @samanthadalton @crazzyplays @thepotatobleh @thatwhorefromnextdoor @cloud9in @promisedneverwrite @calraquin

#playchoices #poppy fic #poppy x mc #queen b poppy #queen b mc #queen b choices #pb choices #pb #choices: stories you play #poppy min sinclair x mc #poppy min sinclair

36 notes · View notes

zahri-melitor · 9 months ago

Text

And...done with New 52 Gotham

There's a handful of additional titles I'm finishing rounding up (at the last minute I decided to go back and read Batwing, and I'm going to read the Poison Ivy mini) but I have now completed my main read.

The good: I've got a list of comic recommendations coming for what I would actually suggest reading in here if you want an entertaining story, or runs that I think are crucial in that they establish character traits that will continue to be heavily used from Rebirth onwards.

But for now, some general comments on what I've just finished up:

Batman - Snyder is very, very interested in making a statement. And with set pieces interrogating the 'mentality of Batman'. Which gets tiring reading in such a big chunk - he needed more time letting the story breathe and the tension come off. Where's my fill with Bruce chasing Mad Hatter? Not everything needs to be a deep interrogation of the psyche of Batman, and how his presence transforms Gotham city. Jim Gordon as Batman was certainly a thing that happened, and probably didn't need to happen.

Detective Comics - Manapul & Buccellato's run remains the highlight for me. Tomasi, who had the final run (45-52) was incredibly uneven. The first story, about Jim!Batman and the Justice League, was relatively boring. The second story, The Bronze Age, was a compelling mystery and probably the best Jim Gordon as Batman story of the lot. The third story, Our Gordon At War, was a deadly dull piece of military propaganda.

Batman & Robin Eternal - what worked here I think was the extensive supporting cast. It reminded me of the glory days of the early 2000s when Dick and Babs used to run Bat events together with no Bruce. On the downside was that Mother was simply uninteresting to me as she twisted everyone's character to make everything about her. No, I don't actually believe that the Order of St Dumas would let a rando be controlling their potential Azrael. Also way to eliminate basically all of David Cain's autonomy and decisions. It was nice to get Cass back. Shame about how it was achieved. (The incredibly frustrating part about this run is on paper it looks amazing, and there's a handful of decent scenes people like to reference)

Batgirl - ugh. Was ever 'right ideas wrong characters' more embodied than during Burnside? If it was a different character, or a prequel, or I had hit my head back in 1987 after reading the Last Batgirl Story and then picked up Burnside...I could almost cope. But it's just aggravating to read about a character I love so much. I actually don't mind the work to add additional diverse side characters, however I'm sorry, I will remain irritated by Frankie until the end of time. The number of times I have had to sit through reinventions of the Oracle role during n52 because oh no we can't use the REAL ORACLE... because running around as a street hero is clearly more important than Oracle's actual role.

Robin: Son of Batman - I think I'm going to make a lot of people mad when I say, while this is a very interesting Damian Wayne comic, it's a moderately dreadful Robin comic. I can see why people heavily recommend it for Damian, because it's probably the most generous and thought through portrayal of his childhood and relationship with Talia. The word 'Son' there in the title really should be the focus. This is about Damian as a Son of the Al Ghuls, Damian making choices over what he's learnt as Bruce's son before his death, and applying what he learnt from both to find who he is. It's something Damian needed. But it's got nothing to do with being Robin at all.

We are Robin - I loved the brutal groundedness of this comic. It smacks you in the face to pay attention several times. It's about teens, yes. It's about Alfred facilitating children to try and help them survive trying to become vigilantes. It's about what the concept of Robin means to the children of Gotham.

Grayson - I don't think it was using Helena-in-name-only, or the constant objectification of Dick or even the way my brain couldn't slot exactly how all the different secret agencies in DC were revolving around each other into place for this story that irritated me the most. It was how obvious, blatant and unadapted a rip off of James Bond (among other spy properties) it tended to be. I could see the file marks, and a lot of it didn't even feel like a loving homage, it was just "oh my favourite scene was" sort of stuff. Oooh St Hadrian's is a cheap St Trinian's knock off. Whoever would have guessed. Trinian's girls would have run circles around the Hadrian's ones.

Gotham Academy - Look, this is lighthearted fluff that enjoys picking up threads from all over Gotham to reference. I'm not particularly a fan of Brendan Fletcher's general approach to DC storytelling - it's a bit too tween and lighthearted for me - but this is a title where that style was an asset rather than a burden. It didn't require high levels of canonicity because people flitted in and out and the main cast were all original creations for the story. I can see why it's well-loved.

#z canon read throughs #recent reads

14 notes · View notes

wordshaveteeth · 1 year ago

Text

My aim for this year was to read more books. I read twenty nine, which was a vast improvement on last year (I read nine). There’s only twenty eight listed because I forgot about Kurt Vonnegut and Suzanne Mcconnell’s Pity The Reader. Sorry about that.

I tried to expand beyond my preferred genres, and made a concerted effort to read the recommendations given to me by friends and work colleagues. Nevertheless, a few of my own comfort reads made it on to the list.

Here they are! (There’s also a Q&A with myself under the cut)

The Best One

Metaphors We Live By - George Lakoff and Mark Johnson

I came to this book via two others. Philip Pullman in his nonfiction book Daemon Voices: Essays on Storytelling, referenced Mark Turner’s The Literary Mind, which in turn referred to Metaphors We Live By. It was an exercise in reverse-engineering, starting with Pullman’s perspective (whose style I greatly admire), and then working backwards to see what has informed his writing.

Metaphors We Live By helped me understand the importance of word choice, the messages we send through them, but also, how very wired our brains are for story-telling. It spoke of metaphor being fundamental to our conceptual system, not just as a poetic literary device. Whether the science is settled on this is irrelevant for me; it’s helped my writing immensely, and also been very useful in my day job. I just came away from it being so excited about language, life and brains.

The Surprising One

This Is How You Lose The Time War - Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

Firstly, I would never have picked this for myself. I don’t really read typical romance, and the idea of having to read love letters… ugh. I was so glad to find out from my book club it was less than 200 pages—I wouldn’t be wasting too much of my time.

But I think around page 30-40, something clicked and I was hooked on the intensity and—I don’t know—violence of the love between the two characters. The prose was quite abstract and there were a few new words I learnt, which is always exciting (‘apophenic as a haruspex’ comes to mind). And after, at book club, when I discovered the unusual way it was co-authored, the inventiveness of it left me feeling even more impressed.

The Not So Great One

Lucy By The Sea - Elizabeth Strout

I just did not connect with the main character at all, and there were a few sentences that irked me by the end of the book. If I recall, it was something like ‘What I remember about it was this:’

It was also the second book I’d read that touched on the subject of the pandemic, and my own experience of the pandemic coloured my response to the main character. I judged the hell out of her, in other words, and found her to be a bit of a rich, white idiot. I don’t have time for that.

The Best One About Writing

Steering The Craft: A 21st Century Guide to Sailing the Sea of Story - Ursula K. Le Guin

I honestly hadn’t heard of Le Guin until this year, so I read Wizard of Earthsea. And then my writing club set this as reading, and I just loved it. It’s more workshop and pragmatic (not a writing memoir, like Stephen King’s On Writing, or Lamott’s Bird By Bird), but I liked how accessible it was, and the exercises set at the end of each chapter (which I did not do but would like to with other people). Oh, I also loved the excerpts from other authors she used as examples to press home her points. They were great for context.

The One I Couldn’t Finish

The Fourth Wing - Rebecca Yarros

I read to chapter 4 of The Fourth Wing and I had to stop, and it was for an incredibly petty reason. It’s not a spoiler because this character very quickly dies and serves no other purpose other than to demonstrate the danger the main character Violet faces in trying to become a Dragon Rider. BUT… we see this poor guy getting hugged by his family as he leaves to start training (oh look how loved he is), then he pulls out a ring from underneath his shirt while in a queue and says so innocently, so completely unaware that he is a foil, that he and his fiancée will get married once he’s a Dragon Rider; how confident he is, so tall, and so strong, he is already halfway there. But oh wouldn’t you know it, he slips on the stone bridge and plummets to his death.

I think I was meant to feel a little bit sorry for him, or that maybe he was going to become Violet’s friend (she definitely needed one). But this guy was meant to be twenty years old. TWENTY. And engaged?

I am too old to trust the judgment of anyone who thinks getting married at twenty is a good idea. And the fact that Violet wasn’t thinking that made me question her judgment too.

It reminded me of every action movie ever involving soldiers: as soon as a side character mentions they have someone waiting for them back home—especially a baby they’ve never met—you know they’re going to die.

But… does this mean I’ll never try and read it again? No. I’ll just choose a whole bunch of other books before I look at it again.

#2023 books #2023 book review #books and reading #readblr #booklr #literature #too many authors to tag separately

3 notes · View notes

hopepaigeturner · 2 years ago

Text

To Philoise or not to Philoise?--That is the question

Ok so I recently have been writing one-shots concerning Philoise and so I have had to re-read bits To Sir Philip With Love...

It made me reaffirm my original thoughts. These might be a bit controversial, but hear me out...

1.BookEloise and ShowEloise are not the same character. And the show should not try and retcon this to appease fans. Otherwise, we’ll have a character with no consistent characterisation, making choices that do not make sense. Nothing is more jarring or off-putting for an audience. Therefore, fans we need to expect MAJOR changes to the book.

2. I don’t want ShowEloise to marry ShowPhilip. Here are a couple reasons:

A)I want more diversity among male leads.

I want a poc chracter in a main role with a complete story arc. Not one used as cannon fodder (such as Penelope’s suitors in S3 Bridgerton) I'm not against it, for we always need extra characters e.g. Thomas Dorset, but I don’t want it to become a pattern.

This is also why I’m a little hesitant about Theo. And yes, if the only hesitations about a character is their race then this is hypocritical—even racist?—but if Bridgerton wants to continue banging on about diversity, (its main selling point) then they need to do something.

B)More importantly, Marina.

The way they treated bookMarina is really unsettling for me. I feel that Phillip’s frustration is understandable, but the language they use lacks empathy and compassion. “She was always sad”. Ugh.

Furthermore, we have ShowMarina whose fate is tragic, but we are shown that the resilience she showed in her S1 storyline has not faded in S2.

There is also more emotional investment in this character (whether you like her or not), which BookMarina didn’t have. This lack of emotional investment enabled BookMarina to fade into the background without complications. Therefore, readers did not mind that Eloise was replacing her, nor about her death—this might be a little more complex if they kill ShowMarina.

And why can’t we have ShowMarina be a type of Portia I-will-do-anything-for-my-children Featherington? We have already shown she will do anything to protect her children.

Just a couple reason why I do not wish for Eloise to marry ShowPhilip.

HOWEVER!!! In the infamous words of BB:

A New Perspective…

Here is my idea:

Eloise does not fall in love with Phillip Crane. She just falls in love with a Phillip. A different Philip.

A Phillip who has the same backstory, who has children. (If we really don’t want to do twins, you could always have two children close in age). But his last name isn’t Crane.

Therefore, the writers can adjust Eloise's love interest. Perhaps the writer did want S1 Phillip Crane to be endgame, but with the way the narrative has evolved I don't think it would be for the best.

So yes, a new Phillip--we can have two characters with the same name!

And yes, I want to keep Philip's backstory:

First, Phillip’s backstory and his resulting behaviour. Like Sophie’s story, the romance genre uses trauma as a plot device but due to the restrictions of said genre these complicated traumas are not handled with nuance or compassion. If they are considered, this is brief or typically lost in the melee of everything else.

Phillip’s fear that he will repeat the cycle of abuse is a very real fear those with dysfunctional/abusive parents have.

Then there is his anger. I think JQ wanted to show Phillip’s strength in not acting on the impulses he may have learnt from his father. Yes, Phillip gets angry, but he does not act upon it and therefore this is honourable. Unlike Sophie, I do not have any ideas on how they would tweak this in the show. They just need to treat Phillip’s trauma in general with consdieration to ensure it is portrayed well and not villainised/brushed aside.

(QUICK NOTE: However, the character of Phillip does need to be tweaked. E.g., the ending scene in front of the portraits when Eloise raises the unresolved issue they had prior to saving-Charlies-life. Now, Phillip’s trauma does mean Philoise’s problems with communication need to be handled with great compassion, delicacy, and patience. However, the concerns that Eloise raised were legitimate worries that should not be brushed aside because of Philip’s ‘trauma’, nor should Eloise be pressurised into happiness because Phillip needs her to be.)

And yes, I want Philip to have children. I think it would be really fit with ShowEloise and her feminism/activism. While the patriarchy does disadvantage women--it also harms men. Men also suffer from the patriarchy--and BookPhilip is a prime example.

Philip was abused because his father wanted him to fulfil the narrow expectations placed upon men by the patriarchy--athletic, logical rather than emotional, a commander and breadwinner. But then his wife dies, and he's faced with having to be the opposite, female-coded role—child-rearing. Suddenly Phillip finds himself in limbo--he's een beaten into being the patriarch but he must also be a matriarch. Alongside his truama, I think it is very logical for him to distance himself from his children. Confusion, fear and PTSD lead to him avoiding his children.

Now. ShowEloise has been very vocal of women's disadvantages under the patriarchy. I hope in S3 Eloise understands her own privilege, and this education continues in season 4 with Sophie.

But nowhere in the series so far, have we seen Eloise acknowledge that sometimes the patriarchy harms men. Even though in the series we have been shown that it does—Anthony being a prime example.

So, S5 Eloise comes along a little older and a little wiser, and suddenly she meets this man who does suffer from the patriarchy and does not fit within it. I think this would challenge her. I think this would enable her to learn the full scope of what feminism is--an equity and equality of the sexes not a sovereignty over each other.

A Potential Modification

But Hope! You might cry. Without Marina, Eloise would never start sending letters to Phillip!

I see you; I see you. And I do think that this NewPhilip's wife should die--but the writers should have the decency not to treat her depression/post-partum depression as her defining character trait.

And concerning the letters—this should be kept. It is the key defining feature of this Bridgerton book and is super romantic.

So, I raise an idea...this new Phillip is/owns a publishing house. Phillip and Eloise's correspondence starts because he invites her to send parts of her novel for him to edit/make notes.

(He can still be an avid botanist, but due to his brother/father’s death he would be forced to take up the family business).

Picture this. Benedict and Sophie, being the artsy couple, host a summer/winter soiree for all their bohemian friends--the people who allow the couple to be themselves. And Benedict invites Eloise along so she can experience different perspectives. Now, here she meets Phillip—recently or not-so-recently widowed. They start talking and Eloise finds a man who listens but also challenges her--(a little Theo-esque); Phillip finds an intriguing woman who has no idea of his past--a woman who treats him like a person not a widow or father.

He invites her to send a chapter of her novel for notes--"You'll never know its value if you hide it away Miss Bridgerton.”. And so, their correspondence starts.

The letters start as those between author and publisher, with Eloise sending several letters vehemently disagreeing with his notes. Gradually little personal snippets of information sneak in. The letters evolve, become an escape from the character's situations, situations that make them feel entrapped and like failrues. (Eloise the ton and Philip his family.)

Eloise can still arrange a marriage, but because she wishes for freedom rather than companionship. Eloise does not want a love match (she tells herself in typical Bridgerton clown behaviour). She wants the freedom to pursue her dreams and ideas. Oh, and isn’t it handy that she knows a gentleman who she trusts, gets on well with, and who respects her literary pursuits. Oh AND he owns a publishing house.

Phillip has not told Eloise about the children because at first, their correspondence was purely business—there was no need to mention the children. And then, when the letters get more personal, he didn’t want to scare her away, he didn’t want to have to explain why he is a single father. His correspondence with Eloise is supposed to be an escape from his parental responsibility and trauma—he doesn’t want to jeopardise that.

The Marriage Question

It is too far in the future to speculate how the season would pan out. I personally would love to have Eloise not marry, I think it would suit her current ideals (Although I would like to point out getting married does not mean you are not a feminist). But ultimately the chances of this actually happening on a romance show is narrow.

(I do have a whole storyline about how Eloise could: get a romantic partner+ not get married+ still have the children element. However, this is too good and I might as well write it as an OG piece of fiction 😂😂).

However, with my newPhillip, there is a possible of sort-of justifying Eloise getting married.

Yes, Eloise gets married to Phillip, but she then takes over the publishing house as a working woman. Meanwhile, Phillip would be the primary caretaker of the children.

Firslty this enables that Eloise doesn;t slide into the mother role she is not comfortable with.

Secondly, this would showcase Philip's character development. Instead fo distancing himself from his children, he is would be activley involved with them. He is carving his own role within his family/society despite his trauma. Hopefully the extended run time of the show allowing his character development to reach a point where this is possible.

It’s not the perfect ending for Eloise, but then again this is Bridgerton, and it might be as close as we could get.

Summary: To Philoise or not to Philoise? A new question entirely.

So, due to the difference between BookEloise and ShowEloise, alongside the greater development of the Crane family, I do not believe that Eloise and Philip Crane should be endgame.

However, I do think numerous elements of BookPhillip's character would be an interesting story to adapt and challenge/fit with Eloise's storylines in the show--particulalrly her feminist education.

Therefore, a new Phillip shoud be created. One who could be a publisher, enable key elements of the book to remain while also sort-of reconciling Eloise-I-don't-want-to-marry-Bridgerton with teh romance genre.

What do you think?

P.S Please don't kill me. This is an idea, I am not dismissing or dissing Philoise fans or Theolise fans, this is just my personal idea.

#bridgerton #philoise #to sir phillip with love #character deep dive #bridgerton speculation #it ain't broke but we can fix it #the potential is there #my brain is still in essay mode #trying to establish telepathy with the Bridgerton writers #so they don't mess up

12 notes · View notes

neteluvr-library · 1 year ago

Text

WOOOO chapter two here we go 😮‍💨

You were turning 18. Not of much significance to you, although this birthday does seem to hold some relevance back on Earth.

Why am I just realizing that Atan is actually a baby?? Like 18 is so young 😭 ESPECIALLY FOR ALL THE SHIT SHES GONNA GO THROUGH AHAHAH

You knew it was stupid, but deep down the guilt of what your species did, what your own dad might have done, eats at you every night.

Atan so sensitive aww; she's holding a great weight on her shoulder that doesn't belong to her ): Generation trauma is real af

“I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,

And Mourners to and fro

Kept treading - treading - till it seemed

That Sense was breaking through -“

I remember telling you one of my favorite things about Illicit Affairs was the number of literary quotes you used. This one is so beautiful, you have an immaculate taste in poetry!!! It really fits Atan.

“I won, Neteyam! I beat you!” The girl says, panting, laughing and crying all at once. The boy’s expression softened, and as he took his place next to the girl on the rock, gave her a small smile.

AHHHH THE FIRST OF MANY ADORABLE FLASHBACKS OF BABY ATAN AND NETEYAM

“Yes, I told ma I lost mine and asked her very nicely to make me another and she did! I want you to have it. This way I have one and you have one. Just you and me.”

There is just something so wholesome and unconditional about childhood love IM GONN CRY!!!!!! Andra bb, I know you love angst but I think you also have a little niche position in the childhood friends-to-lovers fluffy arena.

Just you and me.

YOU AND ME THERES NOTHING LIKE THIS MISS AMERICAN AND THE HEARTBREAK PRINCE

You didn’t want to make anyone sad, but you loved the power that music held. You loved that it brought people together, no matter the species, the language, the tone, the mood, you could always rely on music to provide unison.

THIS!!!!! I knew I was reading the right series when I saw the Taylor titles 😭 Atan's a little songbird and I love it sm.

He hasn’t heard you sing in so long and hearing it again opened a hole in his chest that he thought was long closed.

I feel like I really should have noticed this before but the way you have always left us wanting more? Especially with the beginning of Illicit Affairs and Monster In Me, it feels like the audience is privy to something but at the same time we aren't? It's like we are seeing bits and pieces of a whole story and trying to figure out what the hell is going on. I think from a writing point of view, it's a really great way to capture the audience's attention and build up your story.

He looked at it closer and saw an image he couldn’t quite understand on it and the word “Metallica” written on it. He didn’t know what it meant, so he dropped it. At least he learnt a new word today.

Can I headcanon that this shirt belongs to Jake? HAHA I could totally see him listening to Metallica.

His eyes never left the scar on your leg, and, as he forced himself out of the torturous memory, couldn’t help noticing the slight limp with which you walked towards the village.

Crack.

UGH!!! This is one of my favorite lines for what??? I dunno, something about the Toruk situation having such an impact on Neteyam really showed that you knew how to characterize him and make him more fleshed out. I just want to grab Atan by the shoulders and tell her that Neteyam never forgot you ):

OKAY end of chapter two...I can't wait to get to the real gritty stuff.

(i also meant to post this days ago)

Illicit Affairs | Chapter II: Right Where You Left Me

Pairing: Neteyam x Human!Reader (later Avatar!Reader)

Chapter I Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Synopsis: You were one of two kids stuck on Pandora after the war took all the Sky People back to Earth. After a series of events left deep scars behind, you are now forced to deal with your trauma - and your lingering resentment towards Neteyam - head-on.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, blood, injury

Word Count: 4,7k words

A/N: So I didn't expect the last chapter to do so well, but I am happy so many people enjoyed it. I have really enjoyed writing this and I am happy to say I am almost done with Chapter III, as well. I am feeling all the feels doing this, and I hope you do, too.

“I cause no harm, mind my business

If our love died young, I can't bear witness

And it's been so long

But if you ever think you got it wrong

… I'm right where you left me”

The next couple of weeks were uneventful. You haven’t seen Lo’ak since that afternoon, although Kiri’s dropped by a couple of times to keep you company while you worked. Getting her to put on a lab coat and goggles was an adventure in itself, but she eventually relents and does as she’s told.

She’s shooting you a sly smirk as you are busy pipetting a reagent on your samples under an aseptic hood. “Your birthday’s coming up soon, do you have any plans?” You could hear the smile in her voice, which you found odd. You pushed the feeling aside. Kiri’s odd, and the things that bring her amusement sometimes elude you, and you love her for it.

“Oh yeah, big party planned, I was thinking pres in the gym, then main party in the dining area and a wild after party in the lab.” You roll your eyes. Birthdays seem fun in movies and TV shows, but it really isn’t the same stuck in a tiny confined space with nothing to do. You were turning 18. Not of much significance to you, although this birthday does seem to hold some relevance back on Earth. 18 is the age you become an “adult”, where you become legally allowed to do all sorts of human things, like drink, smoke, vote, be held liable for your actions (this one still confuses you), get married, drive and so much more. It seemed strange to you that so much weight was placed on this day, and you wondered if when the clock struck midnight a few days from now, you will feel different, like something in your brain will click and you will have answers to all the questions you have been silently asking yourself at night.

“Thought so. Well, we do have a surprise for you.” She says, still smiling from ear to ear.

Has everyone you loved collectively decided to forget that you hate surprises? With a groan, you got up from your chair, removed the samples that you quickly placed back in an incubator, shut the hood and motioned for Kiri to follow you out of the lab.

It was later than you expected when you finished, and you knew Kiri would have to leave soon so she can make it back home in time for curfew.

“Anywayyy…” she says, refusing to let your sour mood damper her own, “I was thinking you could join us at the home tree for your birthday party. The family prepared something for you and you haven’t visited in so long, everyone misses you, especially Tuk.”

“Kiri…” You wanted to go, and were touched that it seems that the family actually wanted you around, but you were scared. You knew it was stupid, but deep down the guilt of what your species did, what your own dad might have done, eats at you every night. You knew that whilst the Sullys and maybe other Na’vi as well were more than welcoming, others regarded you as a curse, an alien with demon blood that should have been sent to her dying world long ago. You couldn’t deal with knowing your very existence was a reminder of their lost family, their destroyed home, their battle scars.

“Come onnn, girl, you can’t spend every damn day of your short human life in this place. I mean, I like this place, don’t get me wrong, but if I had to spend every minute of the day here, I’d kill myself. I mean the foooood, the artificial lightinnggg, the stuffy aiiiiir…” she dramatically dragged every word to make her point, and despite everything, you couldn’t really argue with her.

“I’m not leaving ’til you agree.”

“I mean I just have to wait long enough that curfew begins, and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna see you run out of this place leaving a Kiri-shaped hole in the wall of the lab.” you said, laughing at the frown that settled on her face at your stubborness. “Fine, Kiri, my God, I will be there.”

“Yay! Thank you, you won’t regret it, I promise!” You couldn’t help crack a smile at her enthusiasm, and you hugged your friend that was sitting on a chair, short enough this way to enable you to do so.

“Do you want to see Grace before you go?”

You forget sometimes Kiri isn’t Jake and Neytiri’s biological daughter. I wonder if they forget, too. Kiri is a miracle child, of sorts. Born out of Grace’s avatar, she was like a gift from Eywa herself. She always visits her Ma when she comes to see you.

Kiri shifts uncomfortably in the chair, prompting you to raise an eyebrow. Strange, you think to yourself.

“No, I should really go, I don’t want to be late getting home and I want to pick some herbs I saw on the path on the way here. I think they’ll be good for the illness going around.”

You wanted to push, but decided to let it go. You couldn’t blame the girl for maybe not wanting to be reminded that as well as Spider and yourself, she, too, was an outsider.

You said your goodbyes, and deciding against dinner with everyone in the lab, you made your way back to your room. You picked a book from the shelf of your mum’s old book collection; another thing that apparently became obsolete on Earth with time, your mum revelled in collecting them. She said the only way to properly experience a story is with a physical copy of it in your hands. You agreed. There were a lot of electronic copies of books in the directory, and while you spent so much of your life dedicating yourself to them, nothing compared to the feeling of holding a book, that you know has been held and experienced by another human. You found notes and dried up tears on the pages of these books even to this day, and every time, it brings you closer to your mum, to your grandparents, to a home you’ll never know for yourself. You fell asleep with one of the poems you read that night still fresh in your mind.

“I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,

And Mourners to and fro

Kept treading - treading - till it seemed

That Sense was breaking through -“

You woke up in the forest. You recognised the place immediately. Secluded from the village and near enough to the lab that even a child could find their way back, it was the perfect hiding spot for little Y/N. You didn’t go there anymore, you’ve barely allowed yourself to even think about it these days, but your dreams spoke to something deep inside you, a yearning you couldn’t drown out no matter how hard you tried. You looked towards the clearing, where the riverbank was almost unrecognisable past the foliage and rocks and allowed yourself a moment of respite. You were startled by a high pitched laugh, and turned your head towards its origin. A little girl, no older than 10, was running towards the bank holding on to an oxygen mask pack, giggling as she looked behind her to an emerging second figure. She was so happy, so…alive.

Her eyes were glossy from unshed tears, happiness so loud it expressed itself physically. A second child emerged from the shadows, just behind where you stood. A boy, tall and blue, with the same innocence behind his eyes, quickly caught up to where the girl now lay on a rock by the river.

“You did! I didn’t try that hard, though. I want a rematch.”

“You’re on!”

The two kids sat in silence for awhile, enjoying the peace and quiet, the hushed whisper of the water and the bustling chirping of insects and birds hidden from view.

“I have something for you.” The boy suddenly said with a gummy smile.

From behind his back, he retrieves a bracelet. It was green, made up of numerous beads and tiny rocks that complemented each other so well, it seemed they were put on this planet for the very purpose of adorning a Na’vi’s body.

You recognised the bracelet and the sight of it tugged at your heart. You felt your eyes tear up and cursed your mind for putting you through this again.

“This is like your bracelet!” The tiny girl says, with a wide smile.

“Yes, I told ma I lost mine and asked her very nicely to make me another and she did! I want you to have it. This way I have one and you have one. Just you and me.”

Just you and me. Just you and me. Just you and me.

You woke up in tears, eyes locked on the bracelet in question that was still residing on your nightstand. You didn’t wear it anymore, but couldn’t find it in your heart to part with it fully. It now lay next to your head, a bitter reminder of yet another road not taken. You cursed Neteyam for coming back into your life, if only briefly, just to resurface hurt you are yet to deal with or even acknowledge fully. You curse him for the bracelet, and the memories and yet another pain you have to deal with on your own. Always on your own.

The next few days went by in a blur. You spent the days buried in work, and the nights exercising and field stripping weapons. You refused to think, or sleep, or read or play music or really anything to would give your heart the opportunity to take over again. You passed out last night in the gym, but it was a dreamless slumber, which you were grateful for. This night was your last night at 17. You were waiting patiently for the clock to strike midnight as you were finishing up your last experiment for the day. You glanced at the clock, once, then twice, then three times. Eventually, it happened. And then nothing. No answers, no epiphanies, no nothing. Disappointed, but not entirely shocked, you chuckled at yourself for thinking life would give you an easy way out. After all, it never did. A little after 1AM, you made your way to your bed. You took one last look at your empty nightstand, then passed out.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAAY!!!”

Your entire body snapped in an upright position at the sudden auditory onslaught. Your face settled in a deep frown as you were trying to make sense of the scene in front of you. At the edge of your bed on all sides were people. Kiri, Lo’ak, Norm, Max and Spider. They all had big smiles on their faces, a big contrast to your own. You actively tried to remove the frown from your features, and found it easy enough when you realised these people, these people you loved were here, for you.

“Thanks guys. Anyway, could I get some privacy so I can put some clothes and thank you properly??”

With a grunt that definitely came from Lo’ak, they all left you to get ready for the day. When you appeared in the dining room, you found a big basket filled with incredible Pandoran food, and you were happy to see your favourites as the most prominent.

“Oh my GOD, Banana fruitsss!! How did you guys find these??”

“Lo’ak may or may not have spent an inordinate amount of hours waiting for a couple to drop out of the push fruit tree that grows a few clicks from the village.” Kiri said, laughing and poking Lo’ak sides with her fingers.

You felt a lump in your throat form at the admission. God, you were so grateful for this boy. You could live a thousand lives and still not deserve him. Feeling you getting emotional, he dropped to his knees and opened his arms. You made your way to him and hugged him, as tightly as you could. You were not great with words, but you put all of your unspoken thoughts in that hug. Your size difference made both of you snicker, and with one last tug, you let go.

“Thank you, guys. You are great, really, I couldn’t ask for better people to be around today.”

“Come on, let’s eat. We have big plans awaiting.”

“Sing!!”

You spent the morning eating and talking, Lo’ak complaining about the training and the ass kicking he got from his dad after your last meeting. You were laughing at his exaggerated manner of speaking, excited to finally have him around to get you out of your funk.

“You guys always want me to sing, you need to pay me if you’re gonna treat me like a jukebox, you know?”

You picked up the guitar that Norm brought for you out of the recreation room. You took it in your arms and strummed the chords, making sure they were tuned correctly. You thought long and hard about a song, and you found it eventually, buried in your brain, along with the memory of your mum singing it to you as a child with tears streaming down her face.

“… Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?

Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy

How it was supposed to be"

You felt the tears coming, but you willed them away. Your heart was strong, but it couldn’t contend with your mind. You continued, pouring all of your frustrations with Neteyam, with yourself, with this life in the song.

Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy

Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?

Break-ups happen every day, you don't have to lose it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy and you're sitting in front of me"

You looked across the room and felt weird, sick ecstasy at the faces of the people around you, all of which looked sad and glossy-eyed. You didn’t want to make anyone sad, but you loved the power that music held. You loved that it brought people together, no matter the species, the language, the tone, the mood, you could always rely on music to provide unison.

If our love died young, I can't bear witness, and it's been so long

But if you ever think you got it wrong, I'm right where you left me

As you played the last chord of the song, you looked up and froze at the sight of Neteyam sitting by the door of the room, an unreadable expression marking his features. You registered people talking in your direction, but couldn’t decipher the words as you lay there, on the ground, guitar in hand, staring at the beautiful boy who did not allow your eyes to leave his own. You swear you saw a flicker of sadness in his big, yellow eyes you used to know so well, but as you were trying to decipher them, Spider’s oh-so-human face flooded your line of sight.

“Hello!! Earth to Y/N”

“It’s concerning how many times this happens”, Lo’ak intercepts.

You finally focus on the people who have come here for you, and put the guitar down with a small laugh.

“Sorry, guess I got way too into the song.”

“Yeah, what the hell’s up with that? It’s your birthday, it’s supposed to be a celebration and you’re making us depressed, instead.” Spider says, frowning.

“Sorry!” You whine, hoping the childish tone would earn a quicker forgiveness.

They all somehow roll their eyes simultaneously, which you find amusing.

“Mum and dad say it’s time.” It takes a second for your brain to register the Na’vi sentence. The deep voice breaks through the chatter and everyone turns their heads towards the oldest Sully sibling.

“Right!” Lo’ak says, patting his knees and getting up suddenly. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!’

You knew it was dumb, but you were nervous, too nervous, to make your way to the Home Tree after so much time. It’s been years since you have been there, maybe since you’ve been anywhere, and it scared you more than you wanted to admit to yourself, or to anyone around you. Nevertheless, you put on your mask and secured your oxygen cartridge behind your back.

You bid a swift goodbye to Norm and Max, who said they will try to make it to the celebration later in the evening. You then stepped outside, eyes finding it hard to adjust to the natural brightness of Pandora. You found the mask uncomfortable, having been so long since you needed it last, and took a deep breath in your attempt to calm down and take it one step at a time.

Lo’ak was, as always, Neteyam thought, leading the pack. Spider followed suit and you and Kiri maintained a steady pace behind the two boys. Neteyam was quietly walking behind you. He was deep in thought, not being able to shake the image of you playing guitar and singing that song he had never heard before. He hasn’t heard you sing in so long and hearing it again opened a hole in his chest that he thought was long closed. His eyes followed you closely, taking in all the details about you he hoped he wouldn’t notice. Your hair was lighter than he remembered, not by much, but enough that it was there, present for him to see. You were tall, taller than you used to be, and taller than most human women he’s seen. You were wearing a skirt, he thinks it’s called, that flows every time the wind touches it. It’s black and it looks soft, and Neteyam can’t help but want to feel it for himself. Your top is braided and beaded, and it seems like a mix between human clothes and Na’vi wear. You back is completely bare short of a string that ties the top together and the man feels his heart picking up pace at the sight. Cursing under his breath, he moves his gaze on a piece of jewellery adorning your arm. A intricate bracelet, green and red, definitely Na’vi make. He remembers briefly Kiri making it for one of your previous birthdays and smiles sadly at the thought. Finally, his eyes settle on a deep scar on the back on your left leg. Before he can help himself, the memories flood his being…

Neteyam found himself once again, waiting outside the big metal building for you to come out. He was excited for today, too excited to put into words. It always took convincing for you to come out, especially recently, but he loved that you said yes to him, and not to Lo’ak or Kiri, for once. He knew you have been sad for a while, and was happy to do anything in his power to help. He jumped out of his skin when the door opened, and you laughed at him for being what you called a “scaredy cat”.

“I’m happy to see you, Neteyam”, you said, in Na’vi. He smiled to himself at your accent, but loved how hard you tried to speak to him in his own tongue. “Not happy you’re dragging me out, but if it means spending some time with you, I guess I will let it slide” You continued in English.

“I think you will be happy to be out for this”, Neteyam interjected. You walked together in comfortable silence, only speaking when you found a plant or animal you didn’t know the name of.

“Oh my God, this is so pretty, what’s it called?” You ask, enthusiastically.

“A’o” Neteyam answers you, smiling softly, never getting bored of your incessant line of questioning. Like with the language, he was just happy you cared.

“What are you wearing?” Neteyam asks, unable to stop himself.

“Oh, this?” You say, looking down at your choice of attire. “It’s just an old T-shirt I found in one of the drawers of the living quarters. I’m not sure whose it is, but I assume a big old man’s, cause it’s more a dress than a t-shirt at this point.”

“A T-shirt…” Neteyam said, contemplatively. He looked at it closer and saw an image he couldn’t quite understand on it and the word “Metallica” written on it. He didn’t know what it meant, so he dropped it. At least he learnt a new word today.

You walked like this for over an hour, but eventually reached the end of a cliff, that overlooked a beautiful waterfall. Neteyam thought this sight alone will make you feel better, but he had bigger plans in mind.

“Wow, this is beautiful! This was almost worth the fresh hell I felt when that bug went in my nose like 20 minutes ago.”

Neteyam laughed, and he revelled in the way only you seemed to be able to make him feel like this. Free and alive.

Standing on the edge of the cliff, Neteyam let out a high pitched yell, then turned around to look at you with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He smiled as he heard the trees on the other side of the cliff ruffle, and watched with pride as a big bundle of green, yellow, red and blue emerged from the foliage and landed in front of him. He turned to you and let out a big laugh when he saw your face, jaw dropped in horror and amazement, eyes wide with the glint of curiosity he’s come to love so much.

“You did it!! I’m so so so proud of you, Neteyam!” You screamed, running at him and launching yourself as high as you could, knowing he would catch you in his arms. “And at 13, too! This has to be some sort of record, right?”

“I doubt it, but it still felt good doing it. I was shocked Mum and Dad even let me try it. Anyway, I wanted you to meet her.”

He swung you in his arms with ease, not weighing a lot more than his baby sister, who was just around 3 years old. He finally placed you back on the ground with care, right in front of the Ikran. He made tsaheylu and waited patiently as you were building it up the courage to approach the mighty being that was lowly cooing and nudging its head against Neteyam’s. He felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of your beautiful face, and said a silent prayer, thanking Eywa for still being able to bring that expression to your otherwise crestfallen figure.

Once it seemed you became comfortable enough around her to pet, he clicked his tongue and motioned for you to get on. You let out an incredulous laugh and shook you head.

“No way in Hell, are you insane??”

“Come on, Y/N. I never pegged you for a coward.”

After this many years, he knew how to push you buttons. He saw your smile drop and your eyes take on that expression that almost frightened him. Thank the Great Mother you were human, cause you would be a force to behold as a Na’vi.

“Damn you, Neteyam.” You said, slowly getting up on the banshee and making yourself comfortable in front of the boy. He felt your back flushed against his bare chest, and suppressed a shudder that threatened his body.

“It will be fun, you will see. Here, hold on here, and don’t let go. I will have my arms around you at all times, and I promise to make her go slowly.” You refused to acknowledge him, and he found himself laughing, again.

Without any other words, he willed the ikran to take off. You let out an involuntary yelp, but otherwise you were brave and strong, just like he knew you to be. Once you were above the forest, he found you staring in awe beneath you, his gaze locked on the side of your face and on the smile that made him happy to be alive at the same time as you, just so he can experience it over and over. You flew like this for a long time, just taking in the beauty of this world that you both called home. A beauty that he knew you never got to experience, not the way you should have, not the way you deserved. He saw a tear escape your eyes and make its way down your cheeks and settle in between your lips, and cursed himself for not being able to take it away, the pain he knew clawed at you every waking moment since your mum died. You have never been the same since.

“Thank you for this, Neteyam.” You said, softly. “I wish there was a way to show this to her, a way to share this experience. I know she would have loved it as much as I do, maybe more.” You settled comfortably on his chest and sighed.

He didn’t get a chance to formulate a response, though, as a loud shriek came from his Ikran and he felt the panic overtake him as the tsaheylu made the feeling echo in between them. Looking up, he saw what no man wants to see: Toruk, his dad’s former pet, launching itself at the two teenagers and their ikran. Clearing his mind, Neteyam removed a hand from the reigns for balance and banked left abrubtly, diving straight for the trees, that were fortunately not too far below them. As if life suddenly stopped to a halt, he was able to experience the next harrowing moments in slow-motion - the diving, the terror of watching your frame slowly disappear from his line of sight, your voice screaming his name as you dropped towards the ground, his own voice getting caught in his throat trying to call for you, willing his Ikran to go faster than he thought was possible in an attempt to catch you, the pool of red liquid spilling from your frame as you impaled your leg on a broken Pxiut hitting the ground. He quickly removed himself from the Ikran and ran to you, picking you up in his arms, trying to ignore the way the blood was spilling down his torso and dripping on the ground. He looked at your unconscious body in his arms and felt the first crack in his heart form, a crack yet to be healed to this day. He pushed back the tears that were starting to pool and got back on the Ikran, flying as fast as he could through the foliage. As soon as he could see the outline of the metal building, he stopped the animal and got off, running with you in his arms. It’s all a blur afterwards. He remembers going home, your now-dried blood still marking his skin like a tattoo, he remembers crying in his mum’s arms, he remembers the guilt that poisoned his mind and heart and he remembers sitting on a cold floor next to what humans called an operating room, waiting to hear if the damage he has caused you will plague you for the rest of your life.

His eyes never left the scar on your leg, and, as he forced himself out of the torturous memory, couldn’t help noticing the slight limp with which you walked towards the village.

Crack.

Tag list :-): @mashiromochi

645 notes · View notes

wooteena · 3 years ago

Text

whataboutbunny is basically the source of all my comfort videos. no i dont care that the research done on her has revolutionized how we see dog intelligence. yes i like seeing poodle press silly little buttons and make silly little sentences. we exist

#this is a very niche post but idgaf!!!! im living my life #girlie out there saying 'where is yesterday'. hello #shes learnt when to use the word 'ugh' i love her #not mcyt #ramble

20 notes · View notes

mr-awesome-balls · 2 years ago

Text

The 10 Novels I Read on May (+1 bonus cuz it's that good)

Just wanted to say that @thedollymaker and @hippo141 are angels and this post is for you guys! Hope y’all find it useful <3

I’ll be rating and ranking the novels I’ve read from best to worst. Most (more like all) are romance novels which are also popular on BookTok. Writing the tl’dr non-spoiler ver here with more in-depth review on an upcoming post (bc tumblr deleted my half completed in-depth review and it’s nearing 1 am rn so yeah):

1. Love and Other Words by Christina Lauren - 5.1/5 🌟

I have to admit I read this on June 2022, and have read 4 more books since too but I just HAD to put this here because it's that good.

It tells the story of 2 best friends (who are almost soulmate-like imo) who have recently met again after years of losing contact. They had a falling out, but when they met everything just falls so perfectly. And we find out what happened in the past. It had the craziest twist (that i kinda knew was coming but oh my lord let me tell you that I BAWLED). BIG hurt/comfort theme. It reminds me of a warm hug and just - of Home. Home's embrace/warmth if you will.

2. It Ends With Us by Collen Hoover - 5/5 🌟

Girl meets the perfect Boy, but maybe there’s something more than meets the eye. Major page turner, this books makes me feel so much and at the same time left me feeling empty. I learnt valuable real life lessons from this book and you won’t regret picking this up. Hurt/Comfort piece. Also also, read the Author’s Note after ending the novel cuz it provided much needed clarity/resolution/peace.

3. All Your Perfects by Colleen Hover - 5/5 🌟

If you’ve read it ends with us and it left you feeling “it could’ve worked” ((not gonna spoil more but if you know, you know)), then boy is this the perfect one for you. It tells a story of this couple’s journey of overcoming terrible stuff ((think It’s Quiet Uptown, Hamilton)). And also, Best. Coho. Male. Lead. Ever. ((Graham my man, UGH)) So so Romantic.

4. The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood - 5/5 🌟

THIS IS THE CUTEST ROM-COM, way more lighthearted than the previous 2. Fake dating, ball of sunshine x broody/grumpy trope, age gap. It’s so cute and the banter is so amazing. I recommend.

5. Funny You Should Ask by Elisse Sussman - 4.6/5 🌟

This novel to me feels comforting. It’s a slow burn but in a comfortable sense? Journalist and Movie star had an unforgettable weekend that left much needed resolution. A decade later, they met again but both changed and grew for better or for worse. Sometimes, stories don’t have to be dramatic. And this novel feels genuine in a sense - a genuine adoration.

6. Verity by Colleen Hoover - 4.5/5 🌟

Murder-mystery, very suspenseful, very exciting, but leaves you mind fucked. Like after ending this, I was just like what the fuuuuck. This novels fucks with your head like ngl. Best opening scene. Young writer was tasked to finish another successful writer’s novel series after she is left incapacitated. But she found a manuscript that perhaps reveals so many terrible truths, or is it?

7. Ugly Love by Colleen Hoover - 4.1/5 🌟

This book is spicy, hot and romantic. It’s cute. Started a bit slow but it has quite a strong ending. Friends with benefits to lovers. Brother’s best friend. Pining. The my life is too much of a mess to love again trope. ((read this before november 9 for cameos))

8. November 9 by Colleen Hoover - 4/5 🌟

This book is fun and exciting. Boy and girl meets once a year, over a span of 5 (or 6?) years as their relationship grow. It’s endearing, how Ben (main guy) just encourages Fallon (the MC) to love herself more.

9. In Five Years by Rebecca Serle - 3.7/5 🌟

This perfectionistic, planning and success obsessed lawyer saw a vision 5 years into the future to find her planned life so different than it is now. I’d say that this book is not what you think it is. Imo this is not a romance novel, but more on friendship and learning to letting go. Life happens, it still goes on.

10. Confess by Colleen Hoover - 3.3/5 🌟

To love is to sacrifice is the essence of this book. It’s about 2 people who is sacrificing so much to love the people they love. But maybe, they need to learn to value themselves - to not discount themselves too much. And in finding that in each other.

11. Under One Roof by Ali Hazelwood - 3.2/5 🌟

Environmental engineer inherited a house from her mentor. But what said mentor forgot to mention was that half of the ownership of the house belonged to her nephew (who’s this lawyer at this BP-esque unethical capitalistic giga corporation). Enemies to friends to lovers. The stuck under one roof (thus the title) and the oh my god they were roommates trope. It’s short, it’s cute, it’s sweet.

----

Just wanted to say that Colleen Hoover is an amazing writer and reading it ends with you got me out of my reading slump. TikTok is a great place to find recommendations <3 Technically I read like 10 books in 2 weeks and it’s more books I’ve read in the past like what, decade? ((well maybe but like i’ve probably poured those energy into fanfics which could easily quadruple the number but eh)). What I’m trying to say is that this is fun, reading is amazing hahaha.

I’m planning on reading unhoneymooners, hopeless, maybe someday and some other more soon but let’s seee, feel free to drop recs on my askbox~

**EDIT** Ok y'all, Imma do a quick update on the ranks because I read 1 wonderful book that just OOFT.

#novel #book #book tumblr #colleen hoover #ali hazelwood #rebecca serle #elise sussman #book review #it ends with us #all your perfects #the love hypothesis #funny you should ask #verity #ugly love #november 9 #in five year #confess #under one roof

144 notes · View notes

geminimoonbeamx · 2 years ago

Text

Reality Bites: Dazed & Confused (5/6)

A/N: While this is painful to read, it was a blast to write. We finally get to see why Y/N(Peach) and Billy hate each other...and its because they’re a little too alike. @allaboardthereadingrailroad Bean has a type, doesn’t she?

Warnings: Swearing. Bullying. Underage drinking. Realistic descriptions of a couple tearing each other to verbal pieces. Semi OOC Steve. Horror at the end.

Parings: Steve Harrington x Plus Sized Reader

Summary: The end of the bonfire at the Quarry is supposed to be the cherry on top of a perfect summer. Instead, the tension between you and Steve comes to an ugly head.

Chapter Five: Love Will Tear Us Apart(Again)

Pregaming is a very dangerous business.

You’d learnt that Freshman year, when you’d spent the entirety of Homecoming in the backseat of Heather’s then Wide Receiver boyfriends car. Violently drunk, spinning, the front of your pretty green dress soiled with vomit.

Since then, you've learned to keep a count on your drinks. Blackouts weren’t on the agenda.

The conclusion was; anything over two beers before a party? You’ll be blackout before midnight. You don't ever accept more than a couple shots, and mixing the two? Is out of the question.

There's a method to your madness, a party equation of sorts. It always worked, always. In the past it had kept you from many fiesta folly, celebration carnage if you will.

Of course, just like everything else in your life lately,

Nothing was going how it should, how it always had.

Boo, Bean. Bullshit. What a lie about the Scientific process always being right.

The night is damp, muggy Indiana heat hanging heavy in the air. Ugh, you hate it, but more importantly, your hair hates it.

You’d had to absolutely douse it Clairol serum, and even then, you know that sooner rather than later you’d sweat out your sleek blowout-

Luckily, if there was anyone who cared as much about their hair, you so happened to be in his car.

Steve Harrington had come to pick you and Bean up in that shiny BMW of his. Fashionably late, a little after ten pm. He’d been to enough parties to know that nobody of notoriety showed up before nine.

You’d both informed Bean of that fact, you sliding into the passenger and her into the back.

“Aren't we going to be late, or something?” Bean wondered, tugging a little at the hem of her dress. It had come out perfect, just as you’d planned.

Short and tight and slutty, leopard print and just on the right side of tack. She wanted to look like a Motely Crue groupie, and that she did.

Steve chuckles as he cranks the wheel, backing out of your driveway and into the street “I don't think that you can really be late to a party, Sinclair- it's like, not conducive to partying”

Steve and his big, shiny new words.

They clash, his developed vocabulary and his ability to morph into a near replica of his school days self. Shiny styled hair, the red and white bomber over the crisp white tee. Cuffed jeans. Expensive tennis shoes.

You used to hate him, and his pretty hair and his exorbitant sneakers and now, he rubs your bare thigh absent mindedly, before reaching for the radio.

It’s odd.

A real mid fuck.

You suck, hard on the end of a lit pre-roll, your lungs screaming in protest.

Weed gods, please. SOS. Take away this…unease.

There’s no need for it. You’re hot. Beans hot. You and Steve arent dating, just showing up together.

Multidimensional aliens aren't real. Maybe.

It was Bean's first “official” party, the knot in your stomach must be her residual nervous energy. Had to be. Right?

As Bean swigs Orange Jubilee Mad Dog, she doesn't seem very nervous at all.

The Farewell at Lovers Quarry is as old as the town it’s self, as middle america as it got. A bonfire, bright and blazing sat on the rocky shore of the watering hole, a meeting ground. It felt primordial, and trashy and more then a tad bit juvenile.

Just the way that a High School kegger should.

You’d always loved it, the dirty debauchery. The pounding music, the never ending chatter and commotion that came with being in a large group of people. You liked being acknowledged, spotted in the crowd, having your name called,

“Y/N, wherve you been?”

“Wow, look who actually showed up”

It just doesn't…scratch the itch.

“AH! SEE!!” Heather had screeched, eardrum piercingly loud, throwing her arms around your neck and squeezing tight “I told you she was coming! Didn't I tell you! I fuckin’ told you”

She’s drunk, but that's a given. Whenever the brunette has a red solo cup in her hand, it only means one thing; full to partial black out. Maybe a fight. Possible alcohol poisoning “What you didn't tell me is that you were bringing your boyfriend, you bitch”

Her whisper isn't much of a whisper at all, and you're glad for the blush you’d already applied because your face would be flaming. You don’t even want to look at Steve.

“Hi! You're Ben, right?”

“Um, Bean” Bean corrects, looking a little bit uncomfortable with the intimate nickname being thrown around so blase. You hope she knows you're sorry “B/R/N, actually”

“Oh! Yeah! Bean!” Heathers not malicious, not venomous the way you knew the rest of the squad could get. But she is drunk, her filter dissolved in vodka, who knows how long ago “Want’a shot?”

“Sure” Bean nods, grin a bit forced but still there. Trying. There- she might have that experience she was looking for yet. Fake it til’ you make it, huh.

“Yessss”

Bean had a lot of practice with touchy feely former Homecoming Queens. Being friends with you, she had to adjust to overbearing physical contact pretty damn fast.

When she becomes victim to a Heather Headlock, she can't help the squeak she emits. her eyes look like they're legitimately going to bulge straight out of her head and you let out a peel of laughter.

This is what you wanted, sweet Jelly Bean.

You don’t notice how Steve trails behind, apprehensive- even when his former team players clap him hard on the back. Man hugs. Weird boy code hand shakes. He smiles, but that look in his eye never shifts.

Cheerleading is a competitive sport, and one day the world will recognize it as such. It’s the most physical thing you’d ever done, your body had bent and broken in ways that had made even your surgeon of an uncle take a double look.

All those fractured bones and tumbles,

And none of that shit had anything on the mental gymnastics that came with being a Hawkins High Tiger

It’s sick, and you’d deny it to anyone who asked, but you’d always kind of gotten off on it. It was a pyramid of gossip, and as long as you stayed at the tip, you got a good vantage point. It was fun, looking down on everyone.

It used to be fun.

So why isn't it anymore?

Because you’re old news, the intrusive bitch part of your brain whispers.

The new generation of Varsity Tigers are shiny, new. Young and excited, eyes glittering and hopeful. They’re only a bit younger then you, and most of them you’d known for years- and yet you envy them so much it makes the liquor in your stomach churn.

This is what this party was about. A final farewell to the Graduates of 86’, as soon as the clock struck midnight the schools books would officially update.

Your names would be gone forever, gone.

Time would reset and go on, and you? Would be stuck.

You’re not only old news, you’re Jurassic. You’ll be a Hawkins fossil, forever frozen in the Indiana mud the even bitchier, more intrusive part of your brain reiterates her evil twin.

Weren’t people supposed to have an angel and a devil on their shoulders? Instead you had a head full of bitches, and really, none of them liked you.

It’s why you’ve been actively trying to drown them in the trash can punch you’d been handed.

Shut up. Have fun. Be normal.

You wonder if people would be so eager to party in the woods if they knew what you did. If they hit a Venus fly trap with legs, would they be okay in the near darkness?

You are.

Okay.

Listening to Molly talk about how she’s road tripping to Ann Arbor next weekend. She wanted an early monopoly on Freshman rush. She was a legacy, of course.

You’d be good at that, you think. Sorority. Another predestined social construct you could fall in. Sounds nice.

“What about you, Y/N? Still taking that gap year?”

It comes from Kirsten. Bleach blonde, fake tan Kirsten. You’d never liked her, and you think the bright blue swiped across her eyelids looks like clown makeup. You should tell her of the fact,

Instead you explain for what felt like the thousandth time that yeah, you were. Maybe you’d volunteer at the hospital with Elliot. Maybe you’d go backpacking- you like hate nature but whatever. Maybe you’d blow your brains out, oh, that’s if you didn’t get eaten by-

You leave out that last part. A smile on your glossy pink lips, toss a quick “I’ll be back” before you give them your acid washed back.

Where’s Steve? And Bean? Heather had been feeding your party green friend shots, but then Kyle showed up and well now Heather was liplocked and distracted. Usual. Hargrove hadn’t gotten here yet, had he? You hadn’t seen that environmental ailment of a car of his parked along with all of the others in the clearing.

Bean had to be around here somewhere, your eyes scanned fast for the raven haired girl. Leopard print. Amber skin- the bonfire is raging now, full blast. The party packed; bodies swaying, way more people had shown this year- how long had you been sucked into the cheer vortex? You hadn't realized how much time had passed, but if you were gauging it by how many people were now here…shit.

The wedges you’re in are tall, and though you’d been on heels since the first time you’d seen how they made your ass look in a Macy’s changing room in 8th grade, the terrain isn’t meant for them. It’s too rocky, unstable. Roots and uneven ground.

“Learn how to fucking walk, asshole” you hiss at a guy, he had knocked into your cup and your hand is covered in sticky red, the sleeve of your jacket soaked.

He slurs an apology, something about a bitch, but clears the path enough for you to shoulder your way around him.

These stains would never come out, you mentally lament as you inspect the damage to your coat and dress, the vivid red that marred the baby blue. No baking soda slurry would fix it.

It’s not even Midnight, hadn't even hit the hour that everyone had shown up for. You can't leave yet, it would look bad.

Everybody talks about how fun you are, but I just don't see it,.

You down the little that's left of your drink, and drop the cup, let it roll where it may. It gets stomped on, down to flat plastic bits and yeah. That feeling isn't far off or foreign

Finding Bean is bust, the girl is gone in a plume of smoke. If you had to guess- said plume of smoke was thick Marlboro Red based, exhaled by a certain mullet having asshole.

Where the hell is Steve?

What, you can't get him to leave you alone for more then five minutes at a time all summer, but the moment you get him in a social setting he totally ghosts? It makes you uneasy, that notion.

He said it was fine, that the two of you were fine.

Ending up with the burnouts is not how you thought this party would go, but they have weed, even if it is shitty home grown grass. Youre all for Bean getting her rocks off, but did she have to run off with the tin of pre-rolled joints in her bag?

Midnight comes and goes,

The world doesn't stop.

But it doesn't feel like it goes on either, the bonfire, the people. The sky and the watering hole and Hawkins in fucking general is suspended, a snowless snow globe.

The new seniors cheer, raise their cups because fuck yeah, one step closer to being done. And the graduates, they cheer because they did it. Accomplished what they had been told needed to be accomplished since kindergarten.

You don't cheer, but you don't let your face screw up either, just suck on the end of the poorly rolled blunt that some guy you would have absolutely never talked to in school hands you.

You don't even really talk to him now, but you’ll smoke his weed.

“Y/N-:”

You're sufficiently stoned, when you hear your name called. When that familiar head of perfectly styled hickory hair bobs through the crowd. Steve finds you, standing too near the bonfire, arms crossed, a frown marring your pretty features, the flames licking and dancing in the reflection of your narrowed eyes.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

“Not like you care,” You shoot at him. “But some asshole drowned my jacket in jungle juice. I’m trying to dry it off”

“Shit, here-” He starts to take off the bomber hed donned for the night,a peace offer. Maybe. You wave him off, its fine, you tell him. Whatever.

“No, I’m cool. Where have you been all night? I feel like I've barely seen you. What? We come together but you're too cool to be seen with me?”

You’ve said worse to him, so much worse. Your tone isn't even that shitty, bratty maybe but well he deserved it. Bean had an excuse for ditching you, but Steve? What the hell.

“What the fuck are you talking about? you're the one who sent me on a beer run so you could sit and play catch up with the squad”

“Longest beer run in history, huh”

“Y/N” It’s a warning, his tone. The square of his shoulders.

But youre drunk and irritated, and not having even a little bit of fun. The music is too loud, blaringly so, and whoever is in control of it has super shitty taste, A View To Kill had been replayed like three times.

Steve drains his own solo cup, seeming to need it before replying and yeah. He was the DDD, Designated Drunk Driver, but like, that seems extensive.

“I really don't need this shit right now, I’ve been looking for you for an hour, no one told you to run off-”

“Run off? Are you serious?-”

“Look, I dont want to fight, I really dont” he grabs your arm, loose grip. “Let’s just go home. My parents are gone so you can spend the night at mine? We can get the hell out of here, and go watch that weird Gelfling movie you were telling me about”

“We cant leave yet, Steve”

“Why not?”

“We- We haven't even been here for that long. And you know after parties always beat this stupid shit anyway. Isn't Tommy H throwing?”

“Yeah, fuck no I’m not going to his after party. You don't even like Tommy-”

“I know but like who cares. All of our friends will be there”

“So? Doing what? More of this” He gestures vaguely with his hand, and you don't like this, “This shits miserable, I didn't even want to come-”

“What?” That's not true, he’d been just as excited as you. He’d wanted to be here just as much as you did. He'd been all for it, hadn't he?

“But I did, because you did. Because you wanted to have fun, but I can tell you're not. And I’m not, so let;s just go. We have a better time when it’s just the two of us anway”

“Okay you're kind of being an elitist asshole right now. What do you mean miserable? All of our friends are here” You insist, trying to force your voice party light. Happy. Because you’re supposed to be here, He’s supposed to be here. It makes sense, you can't leave yet. “Beans somewhere around here-”

“Nah, she ran off with Hargrove. They left, dude. A while ago”

Dude?

“Okay, dude” its a clear taunt “So what? You just want to go without telling anyone goodbye-”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying I want to do”

“Heather!-” You’re insisting. Throwing out the weakest argument points ever, and really, you don't even know why. Why youre playing devils advocate for this stupid as shit party, why youre trying to convince him to stay with you.

“Ditched you to play tonsil hockey with Lisnecki”

“I did not get ditched! If anyone ditched me tonight it was you-”

You’d always believed that there was a time and place for everything. The right timing, Your Uncle Elliot had taught you young, could change everything. Could make or break a situation.

Nancy Wheeler has horrible timing.

Always had. Spoke when she knew it would infuriate people. Reminded teachers who had clearly forgotten about homework due dates. Stumbled into the middle of cat fights in the locker rooms.

It was clearly a habit she wasn't going to drop anytime soon.

You're so consumed with Steve, and the ever growing tension between the two of you that you dont notice her. Wouldn't have, even if your- Steve wasnt starting to really piss you off. She’s never been very noticable.

There's a tap on your shoulder, just as you're about to tell him to go home without you if he wanted to leave so bad.

You should've known, by the look in his eye. By the way his mouth snaps shut and his jaw does that weird little grindy thing it tended to do when he felt awkward, put on the spot.

Nancy stands there, looking completely out of place. Far from her element, and both of you know it.

Any other day the two of you would be just about the same height, but you tower over her in your heels. Look down on her. Jonathan Byers lurks just behind her, in his usual Jason Vorhees fashion. Very shasher sheek.

“Um, Hi Y/N- uh Steve, hey” She greets, thin lips pulling up into a cumbersome smile as she greets you.

“Nance” Steve nods.

“Wheeler” The pseudo one word greeting you give back is short.

“I was just wondering if you know where Bean is. I can't find her anywhere, and we were supposed to meet up. I thought she’d be with you” Nancy continues. Doesn't this bitch want to be a journalist? Shouldn't she know how to read the proverbial room better?

Maybe it's the fact that she calls Bean by the sacred nickname that meant so much to you, that she inquired about your best friend.

Or maybe, it’s the way that Steve greets her back, with none of the strained animosity that he had been speaking to you with just moments before. Soft, he’d always been so soft with Nancy. So soft for her.

Either way. Nancy had always had horrible timing.

And you…well, you didn't have the patience to play nice right now. Not for someone who mattered so little, who you barely liked in the first place.

“She wanted to meet up with you? Are you sure?” Your voice is sweet, teeth rotting. Nerve exposing “I didn't even think the two of you were friends anymore”

Nancy’s already big round eyes go even rounder. Shock. Indignance. You don't give a shit. She wasn't the little doll people treated her as, and you sure went going to handle porcelain priss Nancy with kiddy gloves. Not for Bean. And certainly not for Steve.

“We never really stopped being friends. Just different paths, for a while. I thought we could all- Bean invited me here so that we could hang out”

Oh.

Hm.

“Here? To a party?” You let out a giggle, “ Isn't that that a little counterintuitive, you and parties don't really mix. The last party I remember you being at was Hanna’s Halloween thing, and well. We all know how that went”

“Y/N-”

No, Steve. This is the most normal you’ve felt all night,

“I mean you were better dressed at that one, to be fair. Which is funny because that was an actual costume party. Whats with this get up, Nance? Did you get dressed in the dark or something? Its okay. We all have our fashion faux pas But for future reference, green and pink stripes dont look good on anyone” You whisper the last part, delighting at the way her face crumpels.

The tendons in her neck straining as she swallows. Tears? A retort?

You want it. It feeds something in you, something starving and empty and gaping. Ugly. Familiar.

“What the hell is your problem?” Oh. Retort it is. She’s not a doll at all is she? Ballsy, taking the bait.

“Okay that's enough” Steve goes forward, wanting to put literal space between the two of you. You side step him easily, crossing your arms over your chest. That smile, the one that contorts your entire face, aimed at him now.

“It’ll be enough when I say it’s enough”

“You’re being ridiculous.It’s not her fault, don't take our shit out on her-”

“I’m being ridiculous?”

“Yeah, you are. Act your age for like, two seconds and let’s go cool off. This is so below you-”

“Screw you, Steve” You spit the words right into his face. Cutting whatever else he had to say short.

You’re turning away, fast on your heels before he can say anything else. You cant even look at him, as you feel the heat lick up your chest your cheeks burn.

Embarrassment and rage intermingle dangerously, and you feel them in your throat. In the tips of your fingers, as you curl them int fists at your side.

Its not that he stepped in to defend her- even though yeah, you fucking hate that too.

It’s the way he had spoken to you. He’d literally looked down on you and scolded you, in front of everyone. For anyone to see. Like you were a child, like you were below him. He had spoken to you the way he did the kids. Like you were Lucas, or Dustin, or Mike. A child who needed to be corrected.

You're on a warpath, you don't care who you knock into. If anyone has any sense, they’ll get the fuck out of your way. You push and shove through the crowd, legs carrying you faster then they should be able to. Your ankles barely wobbling as you climb the rocky path, the one that leads to the field. Away from the party. Away from the fire. From Nancy, from Steve-

“Y/N!”

You ignore him, ignore the way he yells after you as he trails behind you, getting caught up in the crowd. Lacking the fuel like anger to push his way through.

You’re too mad to think about how you’re going to get home, you don't even know where you're going. You just need to get away. You have to outrun this. These feelings. Him.

“Really? Fuck” Steve curses as he fumbles through the dark, slips on rocks and almost faceplants “Wait a second, Y/N!”

Curse his athleticism. Curse his long legs. Curse these fucking wedges!

Steve grabs your wrist when he catches up to you, which he does quickly. You wrench your arm away from him.

“Dont touch me”

“Seriously, talk to me-”

“Talk to you? I dont even want to fucking look at you right now”

“At me? I wasn’t just a cunt to random people for zero reason. What the hell was that back there? Why would you act like that?”

You can't believe him

“Like what?” You goad him, finally meeting him head on. Steve wanted this. He wanted to fight. “A cunt? Like myself?”

“Stop”

“No Steve, you said it. I’m a cunt. I’m not a nice person, and that's fine. At least I dont parade around, with a holier then though nice guy act pretending to be decent”

Steve rubs his head, both hands, standing straight and letting out a long exhale “Dont try to turn this around on me. You always do this shit, its always the same thing. Me. I’m the bad guy. I’m the asshole-”

“You are!”

“I’m not the one who just used an innocent girl as my own personal punching bag”

“Oh! Okay! There it is Steve” You point at him, hands gesturing wildly, manic shrill laughter bubbling “Innocent Nancy. God, could you be more pathetic? How are you still pining after her? It’s been like two fucking years, get the fuck over it”

“You don't know what you’re talking about” Steve grits out. “This has nothing to do with her, I didn’t even know she was going to be here tonight”

You've seen him annoyed. You’ve seen him get chewed out by shitty customers over ice cream, seen him lose big games. Seen him exasperated and pissed.

You’ve never really seen him angry.

Not at you.

“You want a Nancy. Thats fine, go find one. Hell, go see if you can get her back from Byers. But don’t you ever, ever fucking try to chide me infront of everyone because I refuse to play boring Wonder Bread girlfriend for you”

“Is that what you’re so pissed about? You’re embarrassed that I called you out in front of everyone?”

“You had no right-”

“Fuck, really? I had no right? So you get to say whatever you want to me, whenever you want to? But god forbid I-. Why do you always have to start this?” Steve’s eyebrows are pinched together something fierce. Face sour in a way you had never seen it.

“Me? I started this?” You cry because you don't like where this is going, you don't like the way hes turning it around on you. “You’ve been acting sketch all night!”

“You did. You started it because all you care about is what these people think of you. We shouldve left an hour ago- fuck, we never should of came in the first place. But you just had to come show out for em, huh? What do you get out of it, what does it do for you?” Steve questions, and the worst part is? It’s valid.

You don't know what to say, your well of near constant quick witted comebacks going dry. As dry as your throat as you swallow around the lump that clogs it.

“What are you so scared of?” Steve pushes, coming forward. You want to hold your ground, he doesnt get to make you feel this small “Why are we here? For someone as bossy and OCD as you are, it's insane to me that you let opinions, of people who you don't even care about, get to you this bad”

“You're such an asshole-” you start, but he goes on.

He doesn't even sound as mad anymore. Just tired. Exhausted exasperation. It makes your hair stand on end.

What he’s saying, the way he’s looking at you.

“-I don't have to explain a thing to you. What, you think you know me because we’ve fucked a few times? That doesn't mean shit, it doesn't mean a single thing to me”

“Here we go” He shakes his head, a joyless quirk of his lips. “I don't know you, huh? At all? Thats such bullshit”

“You don't. What, you think because you know how to make me come you suddenly know the inner workings of my psyche? What are you so scared of? Fuck off with that garbage, Steve. You're not my boyfriend. You're a glorified booty call, you get that right? That all we've been doing? God, your parents really didn't hug you enough as a child”

The blow lands. You can tell by the look on his face. By the way he staggers, almost physically.

He gapes, mouth opening and closing. Like he's trying to figure out what to say- you're ready for it. For the back lash. For him to snap.

“It's always gonna be like this with you, isn't it? With us?” Steve frowns, disgusted.

You shrug.

Probably.

“You’re fucking insane” Steve accuses.

You start to walk away from him.

“And insecure!”

Whatever.

“And I'm done chasing you. I’m so serious, I’m not gonna keep doing this with you, don't walk away from me-”

“Fuck you, Steve!” You hiss.

“No- fuck you, Y/N. Fuck this”

Your pride keeps you from looking back, from watching him climb into the BMW. You hear the ignition though, heer his wheels ground gravel as he backs out, as he drives away.

Even though you're furious, even though you hate him in that moment,and even though you’re drunker than you’d meant to get. You he won't leave you, not really.

Steve always comes back.

Steve doesn't come back

The night is sweltering, the summer heat digging its nails in even as the stars dot twinkling constellations across the blackened sky. Hot, humid, and miserable. You’ve never felt so heavy.

You trudge down Old Mill Road, through the darkness. It cuts through the woods, and is a straight shot back into town from the quarry. It’s also a five mile hike- you’d ditched the platforms twenty minutes ago. Your feet feel no no relief, padding barefoot on the rough asphalt,

“Ow- Fuck” You hiss, for what feels like the hundreth time as you hop on one foot, rubbing pebbles and rubble away from your soft soles. A hysterical sob bubbles up from the pit of your chest and you choke on it, fighting to keep your emotions at bay. It’s fine, you’d made this walk before. Drunker than this-

There's a shuffle in the leaves.

Yeah, you’d made this walk. But never had you done it alone.

The treeline is alive, dark and ominous and gaping on either side of the road. Your ears catch every noise, head snapping to follow the sound, eyes shifting in the thick pitch dark. It’s probably an animal or something. A bunny, or maybe a deer- the coyotes in the area had ripped the Jeffersons dog to shreds last fall.

Funnily enough, you’d take a pack of rabid dogs over what could be out there.

It’s going to be fine, you chant to yourself, picking up the pace. Your calves screaming in protest, your inner thighs rubbed beyond raw.

You're just paranoid and upset. You’re not thinking logically-

Branches snap and crunch and the hair on the back of your neck stands straight, on high alert-

Your mind is just playing tricks on you, but you propel yourself faster and faster until you’re full on sprinting down the isolated road. Your lungs tighten painfully and your head spins. It has teeth, rows and rows of them, and claws. It left a crater sized dent in your hood- and it fucking killed Barb. Bean said-

A pair of headlights cut through the dark,

Part of you would’ve taken the Xenomorph instead.

The beat to shit Ford Galaxi passes you, and then rolls to a stop a few feet ahead. You deliberate bee-lining into the monster infested forest.

Instead you raise your chin and square your shoulders a bit. It looks better than jumping up and down and cursing at the sky because what had you done in a past life. To. Deserve. This.

There's only so much dignity one can have when they’re barefoot with mascara running down their face, with their shoes hanging from their left hand.

“Y/N?” Nancy calls through the open, she’s riding passenger of course. Jonathan Byers just stares at you, beady eyes hard and cautious. “Are you okay?”

“Uh-” you blank because really, what the fuck does she expect you to say. You wonder if maybe this is some kind of prank, you tell her no, you are very much not okay and she drives away cackling because you’d pointed out her lack of fashion sense.

It’s what you would do.

Nancy’s gaze isn’t malicious, as much as it is inquiring. A little too knowing, a little too concerned.

Because she’s a better person than you are.

“I’m totally fine” It’s weaker than you mean for it to be, far from the venomous retort that you can't seem to muster.

They have all the reason in the world to leave you there, stranded on Old Mill, Jonathan actually looks like he’s totally okay with that option. But Nancy persists. Pushy as ever.

“We could give you a ride home, if you need one?”

Everything inside of you protests that offer, down to a cellular level. You should tell them absolutely the fuck not, and walk away. Flipping your hair behind you. That’s how it is, how it’s been. What you know.

The forest breathes again, crunching and shifting and swaying and you swear somewhere in the distance something is shrieking.

“Yes” the words feel like cotton in your mouth. Jonathan looks as shocked as you feel, like the craziest thing to ever happen in this town is you agreeing to ride in the back of his junk mobile.

“Please, if you’re going by my place. I’d really uh appreciate it”

The smile Nancy gives you is both forced and sympathetic and you’d really like to die. Death seems like a comfort at this point, and that’s not you being dramatic.

“No, It’s okay you’re only a few streets over from me. Right, Jonathan?”

Jonathan grimaces and you never thought you’d feel any sort of camaraderie with the Eldest Byers, like ever. But as you climb into the back seat, situating yourself on the tattered leather, you lock eyes with him in the rearview. I’d rather be doing anything other than this.

Yeah, the feelings fucking mutual.

The ride to your place is too long, and you don’t think you really breathe through the entirety of it. The Guns of Brixton floats through his speakers and you cling to the thought of; maybe none of this is real. Maybe nothing has been real, since you hit that thing in the woods.

If only that were the case.

Word to the wise; If a man ever calls you a cunt and then leaves you stranded in the middle of nowhere? You better never talk to him again. Ever. Even if he does look like Steve Harrington

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x plus #steve harrington smut #Steve Harrington x plus sized reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imm

132 notes · View notes

knockyasocksoff2022 · 6 months ago

Text

The Tribute Parade Part 1 - NAKAHARA

| 1,399 words |

My stylist is a woman. She wears what I swear must be the frilliest dress I’ve ever seen in mint green with intricate lace, like Kouyou’s curtains. I wince at the reminder. She said her name was Margaret, and she’s actually quite hilarious. Witty, cynical, and a little bit morbid. I think, if she lived in Two, we would be friends. But she doesn’t and I make sure I don’t forget that, even as I laugh. It’s good to make her like me, but I can’t end up befriending her. She isn’t my friend. No one here is. Especially Dazai.

“Do you know what Dazai is wearing? Stylists usually coordinate, right?”

“Yes, but in your case, you are also wearing a suit so you’ll be in identical outfits.” She frowns at this, displeased not to have been able to show off the elegant dress she prepared. It’s beautiful, truly, and women would look stunning in it, I’m sure. But I’m no woman.

I frown too. I don’t want to match with shitty Dazai, but what choice do I have if I’m to show everyone that I’m a real man. Damn, he’s not going to shut up about it, is he?

“Something wrong?” Margaret asks as I sigh.

“Everything.” I want to yell, I want to rant, but there’s nothing she can do about this, nothing anyone can do so I keep my mouth shut letting the anger boil and bubble quietly beneath my skin.

I can’t help my satisfaction at my reflection. I’ve worn suits before, every year at the reaping. But this one feels different, tailored perfectly looking almost geometric, the natural shine of the stones catching the light. Despite the rocks, the garment is still light. It’s so . . . me.

Then Margaret takes out a makeup pallet. I cringe away so fast she nearly drops.

“Oh, I’m sorry, lady, but there is no way in hell you’re putting any of that anywhere near my face.”

She’s already putting it away before I finish like she can tell I’d never let her. Good for her.

“Ugh, denying an artist a chance to work her magic.”

“Go be Dazai’s stylist if you want to do makeup, I’m sure he’d love to have your hands all over him.”

“Um, no. I’m married.”

This surprises me. I’d assumed with her demeanuor that she would enjoy the single life. Most of the stylists are single, I think, since they’re all so young.

“Really.”

She smiles. It's the truly happy kind of smile, the kind you can’t help when your loved one is mentioned. The same expression Edogawa had on his face when he talked about his boyfriend. I push down the nausea. “Yes. He’s a teacher.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” It’s so odd, like a flash of reality behind the glitz and glamour. It does make sense, even in the Capitol children still go to school. I wonder what they learn. Do they learn to hate us the same way I’ve learnt to hate them?

With the addition of silver tinsel woven into the long part of my hair, the outfit is complete.

“Alright, brat, let’s go.” she pulls me into the lift, still miffed she didn’t get to show off her makeup skills.

Three minutes later Dazai isn’t here. God, that’s so like him to skip out. I wonder what punishment they’ll give him, or both of us, or maybe just Fukuzawa-san. Selfish bastard, screwing all of us.

I stop looking for him and start observing the other tributes. They’re all in much more colourful outfits, with the exception of 12, whose industry is coal (their female tribute, the youngest ever, a 12-year-old girl won by a landslide last year, shocking everyone and making Two even more eager for the crown than usual.). What they make up for in colour they lack in taste. The garments are gaudy, offensive costumes and caricatures of each district's industry. Disgusting.

I hear giggling and turn. The doors close on a flash of bright pink-ish red hair and Dazai steps forward.

We both stop, taking each other in from across the room.

His outfit does not match mine.

He wears the same grey shirt, yes, but it melds perfectly into a corset that looks like a rock formation. Geometric and layered with stones like armour. And the corset blends easily into high-waisted trousers. He looks elegant. He always has, even more so when fighting, but now his overly long limbs make him look otherworldly in the good way, rather than like a beanpole.

His hair has tinsel just like mine, only his is all over, rather than just in the bottom. It’s done so that I’d almost swear it was natural if I didn’t know that was impossible.

And the stylist has done something to his eyes, the lids are smeared in a faintly blue-ish grey that faintly sparkles as the light shifts and there are tiny rocks in the outside corners of his eyes.

He must be wearing makeup, some kind of contouring, or something (because I swear he’s never looked like this before) his features look sharp enough to cut stone. He looks dangerous and somehow cat-like.

It hits me after a second of staring to see what’s nagging me about it. He’s dressed like a girl. Not exactly, but very feminine. What’s he doing that for? Did the stylists crackdown and say they wanted at least one girl’s outfit? No, he would have never let himself be put into anything he didn’t want to be, so what is it?

Before I can think of a plausible answer he’s walking over, that foxy smile on his face. He takes my arm, pulling me far closer than we’ve ever been when not fighting. When he leans down, I feel his warm breath on my neck. It smells like some floral toothpaste. (seriously what the hell is with the Capitol?)

“Hmm, it’s a tragedy . . .” he whispers, voice sticky with the floral scent and so quiet I can barely hear it, “even with all that makeup you still look like a slug.”

Something about his voice makes me shiver. He’s insulted me a thousand times over, but never tried to be quite so . . . strange about it. Like the group of bitchy girls I always try to avoid in the cafeteria. If the closeness felt weird before it feels uncomfortable now, the scent clinging to me even as he pulls away. He runs cold, his skin is always freezing but now my hand feels hot where he touches it, in fact, I can feel my whole body heating up, because of how disgusted I am. Gross fish!

I should elbow him, call him out for being a fucking perverted asshole, but I can hardly do so in such a public space. What the hell is he doing? He knows that. Is this his plan to try to throw me off my game by flirting? Well, it’s dumb as the rocks Two mines because we both there’s no chance in hell that it would ever work. Probably just another one of his sick jokes to satisfy his deranged sense of humour. I hate him using me for entertainment. Maybe they won't make me go too easy on him in training.

Well, anything he can do I can do at least 10 times better.

I get in the chariot first, leaning down to him so our faces are level. “All the makeup in the Capitol can’t make a mackerel pretty, or did you think I wouldn’t notice?” I match his tone perfectly, letting him know that I know he’s scheming something and that I intend to find out exactly what it is.

He says nothing, but I swear I see a flash of surprise in his eyes. Satisfied with that I don’t give him a chance to speak, extending my hand out to him, bracing for the heat.

He makes his face unreadable again, taking it.

As soon as he’s in I look away, staring at the metal doors, trying, though I know it’s in vain, to see through them and imagine in the crowd with no prize, only President Dostoevsky waiting at the end.

But I’ll wait. Dazai isn’t the only one who can be patient. I know victory isn’t easy, but it will be mine. For Kouyou, Kyouka, Shirase, Yuan, and me, of course.

Dazai glances once at me, then joins me in staring at the doors. Without seeing his eyes I can’t tell what he’s thinking, so I don’t try.

All too soon, the door open.

The Hunger Games | soukoku |

Dazai and Chuuya are from District 2. Fukuzawa is their mentor who never talks about his games. Ranpo is their District Escort. Dostovesky is the President. Nikolai is a Telvision show host. All is great in Panem. Why do you ask?

(This fic includes Trans female to male Chuuya. If you don't like it, just don't read it.)

32 notes · View notes

shutup-itsthewifeimagines · 2 years ago

Text

CHAOS Riven Story Part 1

Scenerio:

So basically your Sky's older sister (ice fairy) in your second year you killed a village and was put into Solarian prison. After Rosalind breaks out she gets you.

Warnings:

Angst, shouting, hurt, violence, mentions of death, bad language, smoking, drug use, sexual references (riven ofc).

It had been two years since anyone had seen Seth of Eraklyon sister to Sky and daughter of Andreas. She was different from her brother, she was Andreas daughter but she was also Sky's half sister her mother was a dark fairy with the power of ice of which Seth inherited. When she was 18 in her 2nd year 2 years before Sky and Riven would have joined her in Alfea she killed someone no not just one a village full freezing them too death earning her into the Solarian prison but due to her title she was just a prisoner. That was until a bunch of irresponsible fairies decided to free Rosalind a powerful fairy who was imprisoned. After she was freed Rosalunds first goal was to retrieve Seth. Of which they did.

2 years trapped thinking regretting your decisions was enough to make you a shell of yourself you were meaner but softer when you thought of your little brother he would be a 2nd year now with his troublesome bestfriend but still he meant the world to you. That was until you were brought out. Squinting at the light you noticed a rather old looking lady. "I'm Rosalind you must be-" "Seth, Seth of Eraklyon" you cut her off you could see she was biting her tongue at you but you enjoyed the feeling. You rattled the chains hold your arms in front of yourself "Now now Seth you will only get those of if you behave" she said venom silently spitting off her words, to which you rolled your eyes and just agreed. After your lovely cuffs were off you rolled you wrists your fingers frosting over almost immediately. "Let's go" Rosalind sternly said, dragging you into a portal bringing you back home to Alfea. Waiting for you infront of the school was someone you couldn't stand to see. You had learnt of his survival during your time in Solarias prison, wonderful place I might add."You" you grunted seeing him, but your eyes softened as you noticed Sky behind him. "SKY" You shouted running to him melting the ice off your fingers only to be electrocuted to the floor.

"SETH" Sky shouted after his sister who had been electrocuted by Rosalind, quickly checking her pulse. "What did you do" he said anger dripping of each word. As he said that a grunt came from next to him. He stared at a pissed of Seth. "Why you little-" she started only to be silenced by Rosalind. "Agreement remeber" Rosalind said. "Ugh" Your annoyed voice came off. "Hi little brother" Seth said almost immediately changing attitude seeing her baby brother. "Starters Seth I'm 18 not little anymore, second why are you out?" He said a bit skepticully."Rosalind needed help, and I missed you" She grunted waling off to her old dorm. Sky following her up to the tower. As she got dressed into black leggings, a white blouse, a black blazer and large black heels, they made conversation. "Sky you comming we have to go talk to Rosalind?" Seth asked walking down the stairs. As they went outside they noticed everyone else waiting for them. "You look much better Seth" Rosalind said sternly. "And you look much older Rosalind" Seth spoke under her breath causing Sky to laugh which turned to a grunt as she stood on his foot.

As the siblings bantered they looked up to be met with the winx Seths face immediately smirked. Sky's cheeks flushed a subtle pink as he noticed Bloom, which didn't go unnoticed by Seth, she would bring that up later. "Things have changed during your time away ladies" Rosalind taunted. With that she walked away leaving them. Seth put her hand around Sky's shoulders seeing this made Bloom angry. Her eyes lit a fire of which Seths returned hers going a bright icy blue. Sky quickly guided his sister off. "What was that Seth?" His voice turned to anger. "WHAT WAS THAT SKY? A FIRE FAIRY REALLY" Seth screamed back each becoming louder earning the audience of others. "YOU HAVE NO RIGHT" "IM YOUR SISTER OFCOURSE I DO" With this others connected tge dots Sky only had one sibling, each started summoning their element ready. With this Seth walked away angrily. Sky watched as his sister left again, noticing the defences from other fairies he walked of running into Riven. "What's got your boxers in a twist? Bloom?" Riven said laughing at the end. Only to get glared at by Sky. "No my sister" Sky bit back. "Wait Seths back?" Riven ignored everything else, the icy blonde he missed was back, his bestfriend. "Yes" with that he ran off to the tower to see Seth.

As Riven entered Seths room he noticed her sitting on her bed. "Seth, long time" The second Riven said that her eyes wondered over to him, the two running to hug eachother easily since she was 5'10 where he was 5'11. After the two talked as they headed to class. For Seth this would be her first time teaching combat to fairies. As soon as she walked to the specialists training field she noticed them waiting for her, she walked to the front to greet Rosalind. "This is Seth of Eraklyon, she will be you teacher listen to her or you will hear from me" Rosalind said sternly wispers broke pit at hearing her name. "QUIET" Seth shouted silence erupted. "To start we are doing one to one no powers especially you mind fairies, now who wants to go against me for example." After saying this it was silent till a certain red-head spoke up "me" "Who is me exactly" Seth said a smirk growing noticing this was Sky's fire fairy. "Bloom" The fairy said back confidence radiating off her. They went up onto the platform and began.

Bloom threw a punch, which was easily deflected, Seth swipped under feet knocking Bloom down. Bloom grabbed her feet dragging her down, which earned her a punch. This went on for minutes, the second Sky heard about the fight he ran over just in time to see Seth walking away. As she was just about to leave Bloom fired a fireball at her, slashing across her back. "AAAAHHHH" she screamed dropping to the ground, Bloom walked off and so did all the other fairies Sky ran to her. He checked her pulse it was weak but there, his arms pulled her up and took her to the greenhouse.

#fate the winx saga #ice fairy #winx bloom #riven x reader

41 notes · View notes

dialovers-translations · 2 years ago

Text

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Kanato Dark [06]

ー The scene starts in the living room at the Sakamaki manor

Yui: ( I’d love to be able to fulfill his request but... )

( Kanato-kun has yet to gain full control over his powers. )

( So I’ve got a feeling that he won’t be willing to head to the Demon World in order to protect Karlheinz-san’s castle. )

( Besides, I don’t want to drag him there against his will... )

Ruki: ...I do not know what exactly Eden means to the Sakamaki family.

However, to us at least, Eden is incredibly important.

Yui: ...Ugh...

Ruki: It is our homeland, as well as a home to return to. Therefore, we absolutely need Sakamaki Kanato’s powers.

ー Ruki bows down in front of Yui

Ruki: ...I am begging you, Yui. I want to protect Eden. I do not want to lose that place...

Yui: R-Ruki-kun! Raise your head...!

Ruki: ...But, I...

Yui: ( I can’t believe someone as prideful as Ruki-kun would go this far... )

( The situation in the entire Demon World must truly be dire. )

...I understand. I’ll try asking Kanato-kun.

So please, raise your head...

*Rustle*

Ruki: ...My bad. I forced you to make an incredibly harsh choice.

Yui: ...No, it’s fine.

Of course, I don’t know whether or not it’ll work out.

But now that I know just how much Eden means to you and your family...I just can’t say no.

Ruki: ...

???: ーー What are you doing?

Yui: ...Kanato-kun!?

ー Kanato walks up to them

Kanato: Say, would you care to explain to me what Ruki is doing here? I never gave him permission to enter the house.

Yui: W-Well...

Selection

→ Remain quiet (❦)

Yui: ...

( Part of me wants to try and explain, but that’ll only upset him even further, won’t it...? )

Kanato: ...Hmm. I suppose you’ve learnt to understand me somewhat seeing as you did not bother to come up with any lousy excuses.

Still...I am sure you are well aware that keeping quiet will not soothe my anger?

Yui: ...Yeah...

→ I’m sorry

Yui: I-I’m sorry, Kanato-kun. However, I can explain...

Kanato: ...I believe you might be misunderstanding something?

Do you think that an apology is all it’ll take for me to forgive you? I’m not interested in your sorry’s.

Yui: Right.

( What now? Seems like I only upset him even further... )

Ruki: Calm down, Sakamaki Kanato.

She is not to blame. I let myself in, that’s all.

Kanato: ...Haah?

Why are you trying to protect her? Ruki...Are you going against the head of this household?

*Thud*

*SHATTER*

Yui: ...!

Ruki: ...I understand. I’ll take my leave. That’s what you want, no?

Kanato: Yes, exactly. Please do not ever show your face here again.

Ruki: ...

ー Ruki leaves

Kanato: ...So?

What were the two of you doing?

Yui: W-We filled each other in on any recent happenings, that’s all...

( ...I’m sorry, Kanato-kun. )

( But it’s quite obvious that if I try and bring up Eden now, it’ll only have the opposite effect... )

Kanato: ...You’re lying!

*SPLAT*

Yui: ーー !?

Kanato: So you’re trying to tell me that Ruki came all the way here and you even served him cake...

All for some small talk? As if.

Did you truly think you could fool me with such a lousy lie!?

You are mine. You should know that you are not allowed to act off your own accord, correct?

Yui: O-Of course I do. But...

Kanato: ...Don’t tell me.

Hey, he didn’t suck your blood, did he?

Yui: Eh!?

Kanato: No point in trying to hide it!

That’s the only logical explanation as to why you would secretly meet him behind my back.

Yui: H-Hold up. You’re wroーー

ー Kanato pins her down

*Thud*

Yui: ...!

Kanato: ...! I can’t trust your words. Therefore, I will confirm my suspicions directly...Nn...

ー Kanato bites her

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: Ah...!

Kanato: Nn...Nkuh...Nnh...

...Haah...Seems like...He didn’t suck from your neck...

Still...There might be bite marks over here.

He might have gone for someplace usually covered up by your clothes so I wouldn’t find out...

*Rustle*

Yui: ...Stop...

Kanato: Please don’t move. I’m checking for marks.

Well then, this spot is up next. Nn...Nnh...

Yui: ( Ruki-kun never even sucked my blood...! )

Kanato: ...Nnh...Phew...

Nnh...Nkuh...Haah...Hm?

This cream...How did it get here...?

How am I supposed to enjoy it like this...?

Yui: ( Could it be from when he threw the slice of cake at me earlier...? )

( Don’t tell me he was so blinded by rage, he doesn’t remember...? )

Kanato: ...Hey!

Because of you, the delicious cake was ruined!

Go buy a new one! Right now!

Yui: B-But...It’s already late, so the stores are already cloーー

Kanato: Shut up! You’re not going to do as I say!?

Yui: ...Uu...

...O-Okay. I’ll go buy one then, okay...?

Kanato: Heh. You should have just said so right away.

ー He steps back

Kanato: I doubt I still need to say this, but you better not think I’m letting you back inside the house until you get me the exact same one.

Yui: Eh? ...B-But...

Kanato: What’s that? You want to get punished again?

Yui: ...I’ll be on my way.

ー Yui leaves the room

Monologue

While walking down the dark street at night,

as the moon illuminates my path,

tears involuntarily start streaming down my cheeks.

I like Kantato-kun a lot.

...I even love (愛している) him.

Yet,

why do I keep on doing things,

which upset him?

I just hate that so much about myself.

All I want...

is for him to go back (戻って) to being his old, calm self,

before he ever inherited those powers.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #kanato sakamaki #lost eden #diabolik lovers translation #lekanatodark6

35 notes · View notes

whumpzone · 3 years ago

Text

Linden & Colton - 18

(masterpost)

and so the slow process begins

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation, discussions of intelligence

Pet- Colton, Colton didn’t realise he’d been asleep until he woke up. He had dreamt of nothing. How he had slept after the stress of yesterday was beyond him.

He suddenly saw Master in his room, a place he’d never been before, stood in the corner waiting for him to wake up and face his punishment. He cried out, pulling himself up and raising his hands protectively.

But-

He blinked. It was a shadow. The gap between the old wardrobe and the wall. Tall, thin, quiet. Just like Master. But Col was alone and he let out a long breath.

Master had probably heard him yell, though. He’d be here soon. So Col wasted no time and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He turned back to tuck his little teddy bear Chu under the covers, where Colton felt it was safe, and headed out into the corridor. Here, he was fair game. He didn’t know why Master never entered his room, but he had stuck to it vigilantly so far. It only made Col feel more aware of his own vulnerability as soon as he stepped through the door.

Master was downstairs, doing a puzzle in the local newspaper, and he looked up as Colton approached. His face brightened into a smile, the biggest he’d ever seen. Master never smiled like that. Col had to fight against the urge to freeze or drop to his knees.

“Good morning, Col,” he said, showing all of his teeth.

Oh, god. Master wanted him to reply. He wanted words, now. He finally knew that Col had been hiding them all this time, and he wanted to delve in, find out how he could twist them and use them to stroke his own ego and entrench his slave’s subordination.

Or perhaps he just wanted to hear his Pet wish him a good morning for the first time. Stop fucking overthinking.

“Good morning,” he ducked his head in reverence, “Master.”

“Wow. I still can’t believe you can speak. I’m so- I’m so proud of you, Col.”

What? Why? “…Please forgive me for not speaking sooner.”

“It’s my fault,” he sighed, which made Col tense up even more. “I just- wow. Where to start? Well, come, sit, have breakfast with me. Cereal?”

He gestured at the box already on the table. Colton obediently sat and took it in his hand with almost no trouble. Master noticed, and nodded happily. He was certainly pleased. It still made Col very uneasy, but he did seem to be doing something right.

He had never heard Master speak in such an excited tone, before. But he was silent while Pet- Col- ugh- made himself his breakfast. He could feel Master’s eyes on him. He was allowed to take the first bite, and then the interrogation began. It was obvious Master had a lot of questions.

“So- okay, first, what made you speak, yesterday? I never asked.”

Colton chewed and swallowed. It helped his throat feel a little smoother, although it was still very rough from disuse. His voice was small and unsure. “You… I saw- I saw Jaffa. At the bottom of the stairs. But I didn’t mean to- I’m n-not accusing you of anything, I know you wouldn’t hurt her I just, I wasn’t sure if you had… seen her, Master.”

He flicked his eyes up to Master, to gage his response. He had just accused Master of being a bad pet owner. Of being neglectful of Jaffa. Master seemed to parse this information, and then smiled.

“She does blend in, doesn’t she? Too bloody well sometimes. I’m so glad you stopped me. And that was so, so kind of you Col. Well done.”

He just nodded, and turned his face away. He supposed…. Master saw it as him looking out for Jaffa, rather than undermining his intelligence. That was a lucky escape for him. He knew that with his old master, any sign of insubordination would have been swiftly beaten out of him.

“Colton,” Col looked up. Master looked scary. Why was he smiling that like? What was he thinking? Col didn’t feel any closer to understanding him. “I know this is new, and I know you’ve not spoken in months. I won’t make you do loads of it, okay? We can take it slowly.”

“Thank you, Master,” he hazarded, although he didn’t see why Master hadn’t just forced him to speak from day one, if he wanted it this badly.

“God, but it makes me realise, I know so little about you. And now- I can ask. And if you want, you can reply. I’m really happy.”

“There’s nothing to know, Master. I’m just a Pet,” he mumbled. The spoon faltered in his hand. Cutlery was still a challenge.

“I know you’ve got a busy brain in there,” Master pointed a slender finger at his slave’s head, to emphasise his point. “I know you’re bursting with thoughts and ideas.”

This made Col look up, properly. An accusation like that came with dire consequences. “No, n-n-no, I’m not, I promise, I exist to serve o-only, I’m just a dumb Pet. Yours to use as you please.” Spoken exactly as his old master had taught him. Well- he would have been belted for stammering. He was out of practice.

Should he kneel? Well, yes, he should, but was it right, when he knew Master liked him on the furniture? But, god, he had to prove his point, he couldn’t let Master think he was starting to rebel, or forget his place.

Bitterly, he thought about how he knew this would happen. This was why Pets didn’t speak.

“Whoa, okay, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just meant- you’re not stupid, are you? I can tell. And that’s a good thing.”

Col just stared at his hands. He wanted to pause time, step out of his body, and float away. Somewhere without any questions, or expectations, or constant riddles. He was stupid. He knew that much.

Master’s voice brought him back to reality. Glancing at him, Col saw his smile had grown even bigger. His skin prickled.

“I think you’re Welsh.”

“M-Master?”

“You definitely are. You’ve got an accent. You’re Welsh, Col. Wow, now I’m kind of sad. Like, how on earth did you end up here?”

What was he implying? “I’ve… always been a Pet,” Col tried, but it was clear he didn’t believe himself, and from the way Master’s eyebrow slowly raised, he didn’t believe him either.

Colton had always been dimly aware that there was an other him, who had taken up the before-time. He was the one whom his old master had had to train so effectively, he was the one who had all the bad thoughts and urges. Col knew he didn’t start as a Pet. Or else his old master wouldn’t have had to torture him like that for so long.

He was a ghost in Colton’s brain, and Col didn’t know if he was locked away or completely dead. Were parts of him still hiding somewhere, curled up in a place that old master couldn’t ever reach? Or had he been completely laid out and hacked to pieces, until only Col remained. Thinking about it made him want to burst into tears. Some nights, when his mind was loosened by sleep, he felt like he missed him so much.

. . .

Linden didn’t push it. He knew most Pets didn’t retain any memories from before their conditioning. He shouldn’t have asked, really. Just… the realisation that Col had a background, he had lived before becoming the trembling man before him, made Linden ache.

He still wanted to curl up whenever he thought about how long he left it before he realised Col could speak. He hadn’t wanted to push him, there were a myriad of ways he could have been made permanently mute, and he had pretty much fallen into a routine at this point. But the knowledge that all this time, Col was patiently waiting for the chance to talk, probably wondering why Linden wouldn’t let him- oh, christ. He was so embarrassed and ashamed.

He suddenly had so many questions all on the tip of his tongue, that he couldn’t think where to start. He also really didn’t want to bombard the poor boy. But still… just a few, surely, wouldn’t hurt?

“So obviously I’ve named you Colton, but, if you actually do have a name, please tell me. We can use that one instead.”

Colton shook his head. “My name before was- was Pet.”

“Pet?”

“Yes, Master. Or bitch, or, um, mutt. Or toy.”

He hid it well, but Linden could see the shame in Col’s face. At least that meant he realised how fucked up it was.

“Those aren’t fu- those aren’t names,” he growled. “That’s just plain cruel. You don’t deserve that. Do you like being Colton? It’s not too late to choose another name for yourself, love.”

Col waited until he had swallowed down another spoonful of cereal before he spoke. That seemed good, to Linden. He didn’t feel pressured to reply immediately.

“Colton is a nice name, Master. It’s not my place to have likes or dislikes but I, uh, I am happy with it.”

Another quick glance at his face. Linden was getting used to them by now. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jaffa rolling around.

“Likes, dislikes, they’re fine. Don’t worry about that. But if you like the name, then it’s yours until you say otherwise. Oh, and- don’t worry about calling me Master. Honestly.”

Col stopped chewing, his shoulders hunching up suddenly. “I’m sorry, M-, uh, sir, sorry. I didn’t realise I shouldn’t, I’m sorry, I know- know that’s not an excuse. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothed. Sir was fine, he decided. From the way Colton had panicked, he didn’t want to push it any further. “You didn’t know.”

“Thank you, I’m- I’m sorry, sir.”

“You’re fine, you’re good. You’re doing great with talking, Col. I’ll put the kettle on.”

He had long learnt to pick his battles. Hearing Colton talk about being a toy to be used made him fucking sick, but he could tell that sentiment was deeply, deeply ingrained. He knew a recital when he heard one. Those weren’t his words. They were a tiny window into whoever had fucked him up like this.

. . .

Master was sir now, when Colton spoke. Col could learn that. But it didn’t change anything, right? Master still wanted him, didn’t he?

as usual, the first half of the taglist:

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captainseconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonward @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @zipadeedooda-drabbles @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread

@vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate

#linden and colton #pet whump #deconditioning

304 notes · View notes

neonlights92 · 4 years ago

Text

GRACE: Chapter I

Kim Namjoon lost himself when he lost his hand. Things have not been the same for him since. When Taehyung tells him it’s time for him to marry - he isn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of someone else having a front row seat to his struggle with himself.

That’s where you come in. You’re a nurse, as well as a member of Bangtan, and Taehyung is never more sure about a match than he is with you and Namjoon. Feeling like you’ve been chosen to help Namjoon on his journey back to finding who he is, you feel completely out of depth.

It’s only when you start to see the man underneath that you start to fall in love with Kim Namjoon. And maybe after all, you might be his saving grace.

WARNINGS: Language, eventual sex and some violence

A/N:Namjoonie’s story! ENJOOOOY :D

“Kim Taehyung wants to see you, Y/N.”

Your mother’s words dropped between the two of you, like lead. Her eyes avoided your own - and you knew exactly what she actually meant.

Kim Taehyung has found you a husband.

Your chest tightened and you gripped the handle of your coffee mug for dear life.

Your eyes traveled over to your father, his face kind but stern. This wasn’t up for debate.

“Okay.” The word was quiet, “Do I - do you…”

You took a deep breath and collected yourself.

“Who is he?”

The question hung in the air uncomfortably.

Your parents exchanged a look - the same look they’d exchanged your entire life when decisions were made for you and they were afraid you wouldn’t like it.

“I think we should let Taehyung tell you that.” Your father’s voice was steady, “As Capo, it is his right.”

As capo.

You didn’t know Kim Taehyung very well at all. Though the two of you were of a similar age - had grown up together in Bangtan - he had always been groomed for Capo. You on the other hand, had been groomed like most other women in the mob: to believe that your most important duty in life was to carry on your family line.

You knew it was outdated. And you hated it, though you’d never complain.

Life had taught you that complaints got you nowhere - and so you’d learnt to keep your head down and get on with it.

But that didn’t mean you’d never wanted more. That you’d craved freedom and independence like no other.

And when your parents had allowed you to study nursing at university you really had thought maybe things were changing. Until you’d realised that it had been a direct order from Taehyung’s father himself - the Capo at the time.

Bangtan needed their own nurse. Someone who could take care of things quietly and efficiently.

Someone who could help those who were badly injured find some degree of normality.

And that’s what you did.

Still. You loved your job - mob mandated or not.

“Okay.” You whispered, feeling something like dread wash over you.

“His wife has invited you to dinner at theirs,” Your mother finally moved her gaze to connect with your own, “This evening. Eight pm.”

You nodded, on autopilot.

This was what you’d done all your life, wasn’t it?

You listened to orders. You never asked questions. You never challenged Bangtan.

And if the Capo himself wanted to see you, then you knew it could only mean one thing.

He’d found you a husband. And tonight, you would meet him too.

You stood outside Kim Taehyung’s mansion -- because that’s what it was, a mansion -- nervously fingering the hem of your blouse.

This was it.

You’d waited twenty-five years for this moment - the moment someone else decided who you would marry.

You’d always known it would be like this. Your father was too powerful - he held too many cards too close to his chest - and Bangtan could never let someone like him choose his own daughter’s marriage.

He’d told you since you were a young girl to expect this. An arranged betrothal.

And when you were little you thought it was sort of romantic. Like some fairytale - a princess locked away in a tower and a knight who was destined to save her.

Except now you were older and it wasn’t all that romantic anymore.

It was stifling.

You knew your father had come to this agreement with Taehyung himself. You hated that you lived in such a misogynistic world, but it was the way things had always been.

After a long moment and a deep, calming breath, you lifted your hand and knocked, once.

There was a beat and then the portal swung open.

And Kim Taehyung’s wife was smiling widely at you. You forced your own lips up into a smile.

“Hi! Y/N, was it?”

You curtsied a little feeling foolish straight after, “Yeah. Hello Mrs Kim.”

“Ugh Mrs Kim is Taehyung’s mom,” She laughed, “You can call me ___.”

Her eyes were kind as she opened the door further and gestured you inside.

“Come in, please. Dinner is almost ready and the boys are too.”

The boys.

Your heart skipped a beat. For a moment you wondered if perhaps your father had somehow secured a marriage to the last available member of the Special Seven, Kim Namjoon.

But you shook your head.

Your father was important, of course… But surely not that important.

Besides, from what you’d heard through the grapevine - since the accident that had caused Namjoon to lose most of his hand - he had pretty much become a hermit. The rumour mill was rife, of course, with people’s theories of what would become of Bangtan’s most eligible bachelor.

Could it be that Kim Taehyung wanted you to take up that mantle?

“I hope you like pasta,” ___ interrupted your thoughts and you looked up as stopped in front of a large dining room, “We hardly ever use this room anymore, but Taehyung thought it was appropriate for tonight.”

Your eyes widened at the opulence of the room you were stood in. The chandelier that hung in the middle of the ceiling dripped with what you could only guess were the most expensive diamonds money could buy. The long, mahogany table was ornate and rich - a dark colour that spoke of wealth and taste.

“It’s a little much,” ___ spoke up again and you turned to see her rolling her eyes, “But it was like this when we moved in. Taehyung’s dad had a lot of money and apparently not a lot of subtlety.”

She laughed at the comment and you giggled too - relaxing a little as the tension eased from your shoulders slightly. It seemed you’d found something of an ally in Taehyung’s wife and you were thankful for that, at least.

“I know we don’t really know each other,” She started carefully, a perfectly plucked brow pulling up slightly, “But I like to think of myself as a confidant of sorts… Especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

You raised your own brow, “Matters of the heart?”

She bit her bottom lip and you noticed the pity in her eyes.

As she opened her mouth to answer you, somebody cleared their throat to your left and your head snapped round, finding yourself looking up into the formidable gaze of Kim Taehyung.

He was alone, you noticed immediately, and you tried to keep your expression neutral.

This was the game of Bangtan. A game you’d grown up in.

A game you knew well.

“Taehyung,” You greeted, nodding gently, “Thank you for inviting me. It is an honour.”

His handsome face was cold - barely responsive as he nodded back to you, “Y/N. Welcome to our home.”

Our home.

The words warmed you.

It had been clear for a while now that Kim Taehyung’s only weakness was his wife. He would burn the entire world down for her - and you’d been told of this time and time again.

They had started off as an arranged marriage - almost six years ago now - when Taehyung’s father and his wife’s father had worked so closely with one another they had promised their children’s hand in marriage in an act of loyalty.

But things had changed in the years since.

It was well established that Kim Taehyung loved only one thing more than he loved Bangtan - and that was his wife.

You tried to focus on that - on the fact that loveless marriages could turn into something else - as ___ nudged her husband playfully.

“Don’t be so formal,” She teased and you couldn’t believe you were witnessing this exchange, “Y/N is a friend.”

Taehyung actually rolled his eyes playfully and smiled down at his wife, “I’m still Capo, darling.”

She laughed as well and your chest tightened. You wanted that.

The obvious love they had for one another - the way they seemed to be so comfortable with each other it was like they had found their home.

“Well dinner’s almost ready Taehyung so go and get cleaned up.” ____ said, slipping an arm through yours and leading you towards the ridiculous mahogany table, “Come sit over here, Y/N.”

You noticed for the first time that the table was set for four people.

Your heart pounded against your chest.

“Who is it?”

The question slipped out of you before you even had a chance to think it through. ____ froze. She was slipping into the seat beside you when her eyes turned to your own.

“What?”

“The fourth person,” You whispered, darting your eyes behind you to make sure Taehyung wasn’t within earshot distance, “My future husband. Who is it?”

____ looked genuinely distraught for a moment.

You clicked your tongue.

“I’m a member of the South Korea mafia, ____, I know how this shit works.” You noticed your words were a little sharp and you tried to soften them with a weak smile, “Just tell me who it is. Please.”

____ seemed torn. Her eyes roved your face carefully and she sighed.

“He’s a good guy.” She told you carefully, “Really. I’m not just saying that.”

Your heart dropped. The look in her eyes - the trepidation….

“It’s Kim Namjoon, isn’t it?”

A throat cleared itself loudly from behind you. You snapped your head to the side and watched as the man himself sauntered towards the two of you.

“You rang?” The sarcasm dripped from his tone as he stuck out his prosthetic hand for you to shake. You supposed he was expecting you to be disgusted - maybe to rebuke him - but you were made of stronger stuff than that.

You forced yourself to smile, “Hello Namjoon. I’m Y/N.”

He narrowed his eyes as you shook his prosthetic.

“I know who you are,” He raised a dark brow, “The future Mrs Kim Namjoon.”

The words were like heavy bricks - weighing down on your shoulders.

You knew next to nothing about this man. Despite what ____ had said about him being a good man all you saw was bitterness and anger in his eyes.

“You’re the nurse, aren’t you?”

You nodded carefully and tried to calm your pulse.

“Well now we know why Taehyung chose you for me. The cripple.”

____ cleared her throat and stood up abruptly. Her eyes were dark and angry and she shook her head at Namjoon.

“No. You don’t get to do that to her. Not when she had nothing to do with any of this.” Her bottom lip trembled slightly, “Apologise.” Namjoon’s face was a perfect mask of nonchalance. His eyes flicked between you and ____ and he shrugged.

“What for?”

____ squared her shoulders, “You know exactly what for, Kim Namjoon.”

“I think that’s enough now,” Taehyung entered the room sharply, standing between his wife and friend. His gaze fell on you after a moment, “I see the two of you have met.”

You nodded wordlessly, wondering just what in the hell was going on.

Namjoon was seething apparently, as he sulked to the left of his friend, arms crossed and eyes dangerously black.

“Was he not as welcoming as he’d promised he’d be?”

“This is ridiculous V, we both know that. You’ve chosen her because she’s a nurse and because of this,” He stuck his fake hand in the air and you refused to look away.

Nobody else in the room reacted for a moment.

Taehyung took a deep, calming breath.

“That was part of it, yes.” He said evenly, “Y/N is a trained nurse and therefore she can help you move forward with this. But she’s also a good match. Right age, right height… Her parents are wealthy and important like yours. It is a good union. I have told you this plenty of times Namjoon.”

“I will not marry her because of pity,” Namjoon spat the word out, “I’m not some fucking charity case-”

“I don’t pity you.” The words flew out of you and when three sets of eyes turned to fall on you, you wondered if it was the right choice. You chose to focus on Namjoon.

“What?”

“I don’t pity you,” You told him honestly, gesturing to his prosthetic, “What happened is awful, obviously. And I may never know the full extent of it. But I don’t pity you. You are a man with an obstacle in life. There are many men with obstacles in life. That doesn’t make you worthy of pity.”

Namjoon’s eyes searched your face for something - what you weren’t sure - and she sighed heavily. He seemed so tired. You noticed the bags under his eyes, the lines in his forehead. He was young - just a little older than you - and yet it seemed he’d aged so much recently.

“So you want to marry me? You want to marry a man who’s had to learn how to live - how to do normal every day things like eat with a knife and fork - all over again?”

You shrugged, “I want to do what’s best for Bangtan. If Taehyung says that’s a marriage between the two of us, then so be it.”

A long moment passed between the two of you.

Namjoon seemed to be sizing you up, and you took the opportunity to do the same.

He wasn’t ugly. Far from it. Kim Namjoon was tall and handsome - and from what you’d heard through the grapevine - he was also smart and kind.

People spoke about him of course - he was a member of the Special Seven - and what they said was normally very positive.

He wasn’t like other Bangtan men.

He was grounded. He was softer. A man who used brains instead of braun.

You had to admit, those traits were attractive to you.

Eventually, he spoke.

“Alright then.” He nodded and gave you a strange look - somewhere between admiration and confusion, “I suppose that says it all.”

Namjoon turned to Taehyung and nodded.

“We’ll get married at the earliest convenience.” _____ gasped from behind you but you barely registered the sound.

It had all been well and good in theory… But now what?

Kim Namjoon stuck his hand out to yours - his real hand made of flesh and bones - and smiled sardonically.

“Welcome to the family, Mrs Kim Namjoon.” You smiled back. Mrs Kim Namjoon.

You could do this.

Planning a wedding was easy when you weren’t trusted to do a single thing.

Kim Namjoon’s family had promised to take care of everything - and as a family higher up in the Bangtan hierarchy than your own - there had been no argument to be made.

This was the way things worked in your world, and you’d learned long ago just to accept it.

You barely saw your husband in the ensuing months. He dropped by once to meet your parents and officially ask for your hand in marriage, and once more since then to update you on the wedding arrangements.

But apart from that he was like a ghost - you even forgot sometimes that you were supposed to be marrying him.

You rarely thought about the fact that by the end of this year you would be Mrs Kim Namjoon and despite the relatively long engagement - six months was a long time in the world of Bangtan - you were happy you had the time to get used to the idea of marriage.

It wasn’t until one evening when Kim Namjoon came calling for you that the reality of the situation truly sunk in.

You were leaving work - it had been a particularly difficult day so far, and absolutely nothing seemed to be going smoothly. In fact everything today had felt like it was seconds away from falling apart and you felt like you too, were going to break down.

And as you made your way across the parking lot you found Kim Namjoon, leaning against your car. How he knew which one was yours was beyond you - but you smiled at him questioningly when you were within earshot.

“Hi.” He smiled almost sheepishly, “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

He crossed his arms and squinted one eye shut as he stewed in your question for just a moment. Then he sighed heavily.

“I’ve been an asshole.”

“Huh?” You raised a brow.

Namjoon groaned and clicked his tongue, “Are you gonna make this difficult for me?”

“What? No!” You shook your head and shrugged, “I just don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The night I agreed to marry you I was a jerk. And we’ve barely seen each other twice since we got engaged two months ago.” He ran a hand through his hair, “I promised myself I wouldn’t be like that. So I’m sorry.”

You cocked your head to the side, shocked at the show of vulnerability. Namjoon was a Bangtan man - he should be cold and unforgiving - he should push away intimacy and hate the thought of opening himself up to anyone.

And yet here he was, apologising to you for something you’d assumed was just the way things were done when a marriage was arranged.

“Okay.” You nodded slowly, “I forgive you.”

He smiled softly and you found yourself thinking he really did look handsome like that.

“I’d like us to be friends at least,” He shrugged, “If nothing else.”

You smiled back, “Friends sounds good to me.”

“Good. Great. Thank you,” He gestured to your car, “So can you give me a ride home?” You gave him a questioning look, “How did you get here?”

“My driver dropped me off,” He lifted his prosthetic hand, “I can’t really drive anymore.”

There was a moment of almost awkward silence, but you refused to let something Namjoon couldn’t control, ruin the atmosphere. He’d apologised to you - he was making something of an effort - and you owed it to him to do your part.

“I can help you with that,” You told him, pointing at his hand, “Getting used to it. How long have you had it on for?”

“Half a year,” He looked away from you, “It’s still so uncomfortable.”

You took another step towards him and his eyes connected with yours.

“I don’t care.” You told him firmly, “I don’t care about the prosthetic. I swear. And I’m sorry it’s uncomfortable. I’m sorry it happened to you. But I’ll help you. I will. I promise.”

Namjoon’s eyes softened at your words and you were taken back by the way he was suddenly looking at you.

God. He really was so handsome.

“Okay.” He whispered, eyes darting across your face, “Yeah. Thank you. That would mean a lot.” The moment was suspended for another moment more, and you wondered if you might do something crazy like try and kiss him - before Namjoon cleared his throat and the spell was broken.

Jesus.

What was going on with you?

Your pulse was racing as you fumbled around your handbag for your keys and you told yourself the nerves were only because of the day you’d had. It had nothing to do with the handsome man standing in front of you.

“You’re going to have to give me directions to your house,” You told Namjoon as the car unlocked and you both climbed in, “I’ve never had the privilege of visiting.” He snorted a laugh, “It’s a two minute drive from Taehyung’s. If you drive that way I can guide you.”

“Sounds good.”

You buckled yourself in and tried to ignore the way your cheeks were flushing at the idea of you and Namjoon being in such a small space together, focusing instead on the feel of the steering wheel under your fingers, and trying as much as you could not to stare at him through the reflection of the mirrors.

That would be weird.

Weirder than you were suddenly being.

“How was work?” He asked you once you pulled the car out onto the main road.

You groaned, “Awful. Today was a bad one. We have them sometimes but it really lowers your self esteem. Some of my patients seemed like they couldn’t stand my face.”

Namjoon whistled lowly.

“I can imagine that wouldn’t be a very comforting atmosphere to be in.”

“No, not very,” You shrugged and shot him a look, “But that’s the nature of my job. Nurses are treated worse than doctors even though sometimes it feels like we do triple the work.”

Namjoon chuckled and you raised a brow, “What?”

“It’s just…” Out of the corner of your eye you saw him shake his head, “It’s like that with us sometimes. In Bangtan I mean. Taehyung is treated with so much respect and reverence - and he deserves it. Of course he does. But the rest of us… We work our asses off. And we barely get any recognition for it.” He pulled a face, “So I guess I’m trying to say I know how you’re feeling. Kind of.”

You let this information settle with you.

It made sense of course.

Bangtan was the biggest food chain of them all. The Capo demanded respect.

And in the little interaction you’d had with him, you saw how intimidating Kim Taehyung could be. Still. You imagined that had to be annoying.

“Doesn’t it piss you off?” He scoffed, “Of course it does. But that’s just Bangtan. That’s the job. We don’t do it for recognition anyway. We do it because we love Bangtan.”

You smiled at that.

It was exactly how you felt about your job.

“Yeah. I understand what you mean. As much as it sucks that I don’t always get the praise I feel I deserve… I don’t do it for that. I do it to help people.”

There was a heavy moment between you both. Namjoon seemed to be taking in what you’ve said and you found yourself thinking that if it’s this easy to talk to him you might catch yourself falling for your own husband.

“That’s a lovely way to put it,” You felt rather than saw his smile, “My house is just on this curb.”

You slowed the car down and turned to your fiance, surprised when you saw him already smiling at you.

“Thank you. For this.” His eyes were gentle and shimmering almost and you once again had to force yourself not to flush, “It’s been…. Nice.” You grinned back, “Alright. Don’t be a stranger.”

He laughed at that and shook his head.

“I won’t.” He gave you a warm look, “Goodbye Y/N. I’ll call you soon.”

You nodded, “Okay. Bye Namjoon.”

He smiled at you once more before climbing out of the car and waving goodbye at you.

And as you drove away all you could think of was this:

Kim Namjoon might very well be the best thing that could have ever happened to you.

#namjoon x reader #mafia au #arranged marraige au #smut #angst #romance #kpop #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine

552 notes · View notes

violettelueur · 4 years ago

Text

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE NINE || SMALL FLY AND REVERSE RETRIBUTION

↳ featuring : gojo satoru + ieiri shoko (mentions of fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + zenin maki + nanami kento) from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of corpse + mention of blood + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 09 march

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 2.4k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : boredom

↳ next episode : idle transfiguration

↳ barista’s notes : hi there everyone! right now i know i haven’t been the most active i have been but i really thankful on how patient you all are ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ once again, thank you all for the birthday messages you have given me and the love that you all have for Y/N, i’m really glad that you love her character ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ i hope you enjoy today’s episode even though it isn’t that interesting at all to be honest...

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique

no cursed spells used this episode..

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“At this point, I’m not going to get any sleep if I keep doing this,” you mumbled quietly to yourself, as you leisurely walked down the stone steps that lead to the familiar track field you had been going to for the past few weeks for training due to the up and coming Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event.

Currently, there was nothing more than a few mild wind breezes as well as the brightness from the moon keeping you company as you decided to come out of your room for the night - how many times have you done this? You wouldn’t even know the answer yourself, you just let yourself go outside to get some fresh air.

Finally reaching to the bottom of the steps, you casually made your way to the tree you always sat under during training with your classmates and second-year upper-classmen before taking off your black longline coat to place it on the ground like a cover as you processed to sit before laying right on top of it leading your view to change from the field to the sky that was slightly shielding by the branch and leaves from the trees.

“What...am I even doing here?” you questioned yourself while raising your arm slightly above your face as you stared at your hand absently like the answer you were looking for was at the back of your hand.

From what you have learnt at being at Jujutsu Tech for some time, you learnt that everyone had a purpose of being at the institution that you were currently residing in now.

Everyone you have met and knew here at this moment in time had a purpose or a goal of being a jujutsu sorcerer.

What about you?

Fushiguro thought the world was unfair and the reasoning behind his reasoning of becoming a sorcerer was to be a tool within a system that ensured kind people were given more chances in living. However, unlike you, you weren’t really fond of his reasoning at all.

What happens if those ‘good’ people you saved become the criminal you refused to save? What happens if those ‘good’ people you deemed ‘good’ become the most immoral and sinful person you ever encountered? What happens if those ‘good’ people you save that smiled at your actions for them lead that smile to fade?

Like you mentioned, you weren’t fond of his reasoning at all. There were too many risks.

Kugisaki's reasoning was humorous as she wanted to move out of the countryside without any worries of financial issues but you knew somewhere in your heart that there was another reason she wasn’t telling you when you asked her during your usual weekend shopping trip with her. On the other hand, you admired her in some way, she was the personification of not needing to choose between strength and beauty.

However, that wasn’t the answer you weren’t looking for at all.

Zenin (Maki) wanted to escape the ties of the Zenin clan due to her situation of not being able to possess any kind of cursed energy compared to the averaged sorcerer, yet with the heavenly restriction that was traded with the lack of cursed energy, she processed superhuman physical prowess that was more powerful than most sorcerers you come to know.

Her reasoning? To become the head of the Zenin clan to irritate the other members.

When she mentioned her ambition to you, you were quite sceptical in the beginning but that slowly diminished once you saw the cheeky grin on her face, you soon came to realise that she wasn’t like any of them from whom you could recall due to your mother’s knowledge of them when she was still alive. Zenin was extremely strong-headed and straightforward which led to her motivation causing your respect for her to slowly rise up as each day went by.

On the other hand, you had escaped the ties of the clans, you had that advantage ahead of her since the day you came into this world, yet that changed the second you came into school that night. That wasn’t the answer you were trying to discover.

Then there was Gojo Satoru. A man that is known to be the strongest in this generation as he processed both the Limitless technique as well as the Six Eyes after 400 years assumingly and was the lone standing member of the Gojo clan unless your adoption made a change to that to which you knew it wasn’t likely at all.

To be honest, Gojo never told you his reasoning on becoming a sorcerer and it must be said that he didn’t really have a choice, to begin with. He was immediately placed into this world as the fate of the jujutsu world was resting on his shoulders while your clan was the maintenance of that order and if anything happened to the man himself, you were the next sorcerer to restore the stability of the world.

‘Ugh, what a drag…’

Although, without his words, you could predict what he wanted. Gojo seemed like he wanted a revolution. A change and actively collecting sorcerers that had the same mindset as him was one way of beginning it. You couldn’t deny that Gojo was a smart man but one with a hint of narcissist meaning to it.

Slowly, you come to realise that you were a tool within his plan.

Something you slowly wanted to take advantage of for the time being.

However, as much as his plan was one you were tensely going to follow, that still wasn’t the answer you desired at all.

“Because I’m not supposed to exist Fushiguro, you’re a Zenin by blood, you should know that my clan shouldn’t exist after the golden age, we disappeared,”

“That’s right...I wasn’t supposed to exist…”

Slowly you finally placed your arm back down to your side before closing your eyes allowing the darkness to consume your sight but you didn’t allow it to consume the whole of you since you weren’t willing to fall asleep outside in the world where you felt most vulnerable.

It was quiet.

From what you could sense around you at this current moment in time, there was no one around you right now, no sound of footsteps that were out of place and no lingering sense of cursed energy around you.

You felt free.

Completely free.

Even if it was for a couple of seconds.

“You know, instead of being a drag, maybe inform that you are here,” you stated, as you opened your eyes slowly to discover a well-known face staring down at you as their body towered over yours.

“You can sense me that quick?” Gojo asked, with a cheeky smile painted on his face as he tilted his glasses down to reveal his crystal indicolite eyes that somehow looked as if they were brighter than the moon that was above the both of you right now.

“You have an immense amount of cursed energy, it’s quite easy to sense you to be honest...too easy,” you mentioned, before turning on to your side as if to avoid eye contact with him due to the feeling of him studying you like you were s subject - it was creepy.

“If you are going to study me about my ability, just go to the library in the school to read about my clan, I’m sure that is enough,” you informed your teacher, causing him to giggle at your comment before inviting himself to sit next to you.

“Nah, I got the real thing of the lingering L/N clan here and I don’t like reading~” Gojo amusingly stated, before placing a hand on the top of your head before gently ruffling your hair. “Besides, you and I both know that something is going on right now,” Gojo seriously mentioned, causing you to become slightly tense as you began to recall the unexpected attack against him that he was hinting to you.

“Do you know any curse users that are willing to work with the two curses that you encountered?” you asked Gojo in the same serious tone he gave you only for silence to fill the atmosphere leading you to turn your head slightly to see what was wrong with your adoptive father, only to notice him staring off into the distance with a nonchalant look on his face only for it to change instant with the usual playful smile he always showcased to you.

“By the way, I told Shoko to expect you tomorrow to practice your reverse cursed energy technique,” the playful teacher stated before removing his hand from your head as he stood up on his feet. “It might be difficult for you to understand since she’s not the best at explaining, but I know you’ll get it! Get back inside and get back to sleep~” he said with a teasing tone, before making his way back into the Jujutsu Tech building, leaving you alone again with your own thoughts as you stared at the direction that he had headed off to.

“What a drag…”

ꕥ

“Shoko-san?” you called out, once the metal door slid open only to discover her standing between two metal tables with what seemed to be curse corpses resting there with blood splattered messily on their resting surface.

“Oh Y/N! Satoru said you were going to come by,” Ieiri mentioned with a small smile, as she turned to look at you while tying her hair back leading you to notice the very visible purple under eye bags she had.

Ieiri Shoko was the doctor within the Jujutsu Tech institution and was one of the only people that was able to use reverse cursed technique like you but more at an advanced level leading you to mentally thank Gojo for allowing you to learn from her since you had been struggling to use it to the level that she was. Even your mother was struggling to help improve your technique since the only time you were able to use it to your full potential was when you were in critical danger.

“What’s going on?” you curiously asked as you observed the gruesome sight in front of you while trying to ignore the horrible smell that was coming from the corpses as you gently placed your hand over your nose to block the scent.

“There was been an incident in Kinema Cinema and I have been asked to check out these since one of the sorcerers that were assigned to the mission stated there was something odd about them,” Ieiri explained before handing you a black elastic band leading to a confused look to invade your face.

“And I want you to help since Saturo said you have a really good sense of seeing residue of cursed energy, as well as sense, cursed energy itself,” Ieiri informed you leading you to take the hairband from her grasp as well as the other surgical mask that was needed in case you both needed to dissect something.

“Are you sure I’m allowed to do this? I don’t have a license,” you questioned, as you placed the mask over your mouth causing Ieiri to look at you before saying to not worry since she was here - which caused you to look at her with a sceptical expression before going on to the task at hand as you stood next to her to peer over one of the deceased curses that were laying on the metal bench.

While observing the gruesome sight, you began to steadily see a trail of the lingering residue of cursed energy from the whole body, yet for some reason, there was a connection to the brain as you continued to stare that the sight much to your dismay.

“Human?” you stated in a perplexed tone while continuing to look at the head as the most amount of residue was there for the most part. “There’s a connection to the brain, so I assume the brain stems have been tampered with to alter the formation of the body, but the person wouldn’t know any of that due to probably their now impaired consciousness...it’s as if the human has been transfigured in a way like the other one behind us,” you informed Ieiri, who seemed to agree with you as she lightly nodded her head.

“Though the relationship between the brain and the cursed energy is still a black box right now, they died because of the modification and not because of the sorcerer,” the doctor added, causing you to give a side glance in her direction as you continued to listen to her explanation.

“Do you think it’s to do with the soul?” you asked, as you fully turned to look at her while she looked at you in confusion.

“Right now, we’re looking at it in a biological sense but if we are talking about a cursed spirit like Sukuna for example that is doing this, it has to do with the soul rather than the body itself,” you informed the doctor, causing her to look at you with widened eyes as she didn’t expect her old schoolmate’s daughter to have such a high capability to come to different ideas since it was Gojo that was your parent after all.

“Kento will have to ask the culprit about their cursed technique to see if your theory is correct,” Ieiri mentioned, leading you to look at her confused once again as you threw your surgical mask in the bin, only for her to swiftly inform you that a grade one sorcerer by the name of Nanami Kento was the one to inform her about the situation.

“I have to make a quick call to him to explain the discovery we made. Can you step outside and wait for me before I call you back so we can proceed to your lesson?” the doctor asked you with a smile leading you to nod at her before making your way towards the metal door that had come through before as you took one more peek at the Jujutsu Tech’s doctor’s direction with a perplexed and doubtful sense.

‘What’s the reason for me to be out of the room if I got involved with the investigation? What are you hiding from me?’

However, you didn’t want to make a whole fuss about your suspicion since you really didn’t have the effort to voice out your concern leading you to leave the room with more questions plaguing your mind as the ringing tone carried itself in the air.

“This is such a drag”

748 notes · View notes