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mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years ago

Text

Sunshine

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Han Jisung (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 12K

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut and Language

Summary: Y/N has loved Jisung for her entire life and she would never dream of marrying anyone else. Of course, their life together isn’t always perfect, but they’ve always managed to overcome every obstacle standing in their way.

Note: Feeling soft for Jisung these days...

I was only 8-years-old when my parents divorced.

My mother, thinking herself circumspect, blamed it on my father’s long hours at work. But she wasn’t there the night I decided to wait for my father, watching him come home in the dead of night to quietly clean the lipstick painting the side of his cheek. I remember catching his eyes from the bottom of the staircase and the guilt in his eyes was impossible to dismiss.

Those kinds of unfortunate secrets are difficult to hide because they demand to be seen.

Thereafter, I can recall memories of sitting in different offices, listening to my parents bicker while their lawyers did their best to satisfy bitter clients, especially when it came to their daughter. I was a particularly harsh point of contention, but full childhood custody was granted to my mother who did everything in her power to push my father out of our lives, even packing up our belongings to move to the opposite side of the country. And New York City was just as intimidating as my childish imagination had perceived it to be. My first impression was unforgettable, a city that was large and confusing, constantly streaked with traffic and heavy with the low-set of smog in the mornings when the sun could barely filter through the landscape of skyscrapers.

My mother and I moved to the suburbs and started renting a modest home with the idyllic front yard and friendly neighbors who greeted us with dishes containing different foods upon our arrival. I had always been shy and introverted, choosing the comfort of my mother’s legs whenever a stranger would knock on our door, occasionally offering my mother a flirtatious smile. Like the older man who lived across the street who often made a habit of coming over to talk to my mother in the living room while I hid away upstairs, listening to the sound of their laughter.

Eventually, I could no longer pretend that something strange wasn’t happening, especially when my mother’s new friend brought over his two sons. They were both around my age, sporting thick accents that reminded me of the man on television who liked to wrestle with crocodiles. My mother’s friend introduced them as Chan and Felix, encouraging the three of us to get along because we would be spending a lot of time with each other. My childish innocence didn’t quite understand what that meant, but I wanted to do the very best for my mother.

Even so, I was still hesitant at first because Felix seemed to dislike the idea, ignoring me in exchange for his video games when I would come over to their house. Thankfully, Chan was more willing to comply, sharing his books with me since we both liked to read and the couch in his bedroom was extremely comfortable. He had a wide variety of mysteries and thrillers and my impressionable mind would latch onto those exotic stories and themes, picturing myself in the place of the heroine who somehow managed to always know exactly what to do in the most formidable of situations.

Eventually, Chan invited me to accompany him and Felix to the park to meet their other friends since I was having trouble making them on my own. Felix, of course, remained opposed, very nearly throwing a fit had it not been for his father who scolded his son for being so inconsiderate. Not that I was necessarily excited at the idea of meeting their friends since I would have preferred staying inside to read. Nevertheless, my mother was insistent that we get along, so I reluctantly followed Chan and Felix who were talking about some sort of new comic book that they were both reading. It was all very decidedly boyish things and I had no interest in superheroes who ran around in capes when the real heroes were the common female protagonists of my books.

“Everyone, meet Y/N,” Chan had introduced me, pushing me forward to greet the seven other boys who were all looking at me like I was some sort of extraterrestrial specimen.

One of their older friends, with a messy head of black hair, immediately crossed his arms. “No way, Chan,” he protested, glaring at me with intimidating dark eyes.

“Girls aren’t allowed,” another boy agreed, nodding his head with enough force to send his bangs flying into his eyes.

I retreated into myself with each subsequent insult and dismissal thrown my way. It was enough to ostracise even the most outgoing of individuals, but I was quite frustrated because I had tried to resist coming along from the moment Chan first proposed the idea. “I didn’t want to come anyway,” I snapped at the boys, surprising each and every one of them as I stormed away to plant myself down on one of the park benches.

I could hear Chan calling my name but I had decidedly had enough of those boys, including Chan despite the inherent kindness he had previously shown me. In fact, they could have fun without me doing whatever it is that nasty little boys liked to do in the park. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have enjoyed it anyway, even if they had opened their arms and begged me to play along. Of course, I was still deeply hurt that they had dismissed me so quickly, but I had always been a prideful child, which is why my first instinct was to lash out when I noticed a shadow had fallen over my wilted form. “You don’t have to be nice anymore, Chan,” I said, turning away from the approaching boy.

“I’m really sorry.”

I glanced up in surprise when I realized that the voice was much brighter than Chan’s gravelly tone. Instead, I met a pair of unfamiliar brown eyes from beneath a fringe of blonde-colored hair. The boy held out a flower, a wilted dandelion that had nearly lost its pappus, as if in a gesture of appeasement.

I accepted it from him hesitantly. “Thank you.”

“They shouldn’t be so mean,” the boy continued, waving at his friends who were busy arguing over a silly football. “You’re really tall so you might be able to catch Minho’s long passes.”

I paused at his comment. “Do you want me to play?”

“Of course,” the boy grinned, smiling as brilliantly as the sun bearing down on the two of us. “My name’s Jisung.”

I returned his smile. “It’s nice to meet you Jisung.” He offered me his hand which I gratefully accepted, holding on to him with an unrelenting grip because I had a feeling that I would never want to let go.

This might explain why, years later, I was still waking up next to him in bed with an expensive ring on my finger courtesy of dozens of saved paychecks back when Jisung worked overtime in college. On this morning, in particular, the sound of my alarm might have been enough to wake me up, but the unexpected presence of my husband’s hand groping my chest provided the necessary catalyst to blindly reach out for my cell phone. I silenced the unwelcome disturbance, allowing a low groan when I reached down for his hand because leave it to Han Jisung to feel me up even when we were both sleeping. “What are you doing?” Jisung asked when I tightened my fingers around his wrist, loudly protesting when he squeezed my breast in return.

“It’s too early for that,” I whined, especially when he started to rub his hard cock against my ass.

“Just let me put it inside for five minutes,” Jisung pleaded, his other hand roaming down to tug on my panties.

“What good will that do?” I asked him, slowly wriggling away from his arms despite the show of childish outrage from my immature husband who still sometimes forgot that he was an adult.

“You’re gonna make me show up to work like this?” Jisung pouted, expression painted with his betrayal as he watched me walk around our bedroom.

“Take a cold shower,” I said, tossing a towel in his direction.

“Y/N,” Jisung said. “Let’s think about the practicalities of the situation. We haven’t had sex in a week and my dick feels like it might fall off at any moment.”

“And if we look at this situation scientifically,” I added. “I doubt your dick will fall off because that’s assuredly impossible.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Jisung asked in an exaggerated fashion, burying his face into our nicest set of pillows.

“Because I’m meeting Seungmin and Jeongin for lunch and you have a field trip to chaperone. Plus, I don’t want to listen to Changbin complain to me on the phone tonight when you show up to work late again.”

“Seungmin and Jeongin are more important than me?”

“Lunch is more important than you,” I corrected him with a smirk, reaching for my bag. “Have a nice day at work, babe.”

“No kiss goodbye?” Jisung questioned even as the door to our bedroom shut soundly behind me.

Being amongst the youngest, me, Seungmin, and Jeongin frequently made a habit of eating lunch together on Saturday afternoons. It was a traditional affair, primarily allowing the three of us to gossip about the others without fear of reprimand. And ever since our Freshman year writing lecture, we’ve enjoyed greasy fast food while commenting on everything from Chan and Changbin’s sudden obsession with the gym to our theories that Minho was secretly married to a rich aristocrat who supplied him with the endless amount of money he spent on his cats.

“Hey!” Jeongin protested when I reached over to steal a piece of his steak.

“It looks better than mine,” I attempted to justify, speaking over a mouthful of food which my mother would normally offer criticism.

“Felix has been acting weird lately,” Seungmin randomly commented, a frown confusing his features as he scrolled through his phone.

I chewed the stolen beef before asking, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he only ever gets like this when she’s back in town.”

I let out a heavy exhale, understanding exactly why Seungmin was concerned. “How long?”

“A week or so,” Seungmin said. “He never comes out with us anymore.”

“Does Changbin know?” I asked, sliding my plate aside in exchange for this piece of juicy gossip.

Changbin’s sister, better known as the object of Felix’s most intimate desires, has managed to whole-heartedly capture Felix in some sort of deadly trance. My step-brother, notoriously known for being a playboy in college, became whipped around Changbin’s sister, following her around like a lost puppy begging for attention. “Of course he does,” Seungmin replied. “But he says that Kara hasn’t tried to contact Felix at all.”

“Obviously,” I snorted. “Changbin thinks Kara is the epitome of perfection. His little sister can’t possibly do wrong in his eyes.”

“I think Felix shares his opinion,” Jeongin commented, trying to sound perfectly serious while he sipped on his chocolate milk.

“We’re having a family dinner tomorrow night,” I said with a sigh. “It’s a good opportunity to interrogate my step-brother.”

“Please, Y/N,” Seungmin said, eyes round and soft. “Felix always tells you everything.”

“And you can immediately tell us in the group chat,” Jeongin chirped happily.

“Of course!” I agreed, reaching over to ruffle Jeongin’s hair until my phone abruptly started ringing. “Yes, Hyunjin?” I sighed into the other end.

“Y/N! We have an emergency!”

I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. “It can’t be that bad.”

“We don’t have straws! I repeat, the cafe has no straws and people are asking for straws, Y/N.”

“Jesus, Hyunjin,” I groaned. “Just go next door and buy some straws.”

“Y/N,” Hyujin huffed impatiently. “There is a bigger problem here and you don’t even realize! That kid you hired last week? I think he’s out to sabotage the cafe. I put him in charge of ordering supplies and guess what isn’t supplied?”

“The damn straws,” I muttered, suddenly having a million regrets for agreeing to open the cafe with Hyunjin in the first place.

“Now you finally understand.”

I carefully lowered the phone from my ear, cupping the receiver to look at Seungmin. “Do you mind coming with me to the cafe? I’m supposed to have the day off but Hyunjin’s losing his shit over straws.”

“Sounds like Hyunjin,” Seungmin smirked. “I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Hyujin,” I repeated into the phone. “Please don’t scream at that poor kid, I’ll be there in five minutes.”

The cafe was originally supposed to be an independent endeavor until Hwang Hyunjin found out about my plans and demanded some sort of involvement. Despite our friendship, I was still hesitant to consider Hyunjin as a business partner, especially considering his performances in the lectures we shared in college. Hyunjin was the type of student to arrive to class five minutes before the professor, desperation clinging to him persistently while he begged me to explain the homework assignment. Nevertheless, Hyunjin somehow graduated from the business school at the same time as I did, albeit without the honor’s recognition, proving himself despite the doubts of nearly everyone in our friend circle with the exception of Jisung who always managed to see the good in everyone.

Shortly after graduation, Hyunjin and I took out a small loan from the bank to open our cafe in a very strategic location close to a nearby university. From the beginning, I had primarily handled the more elaborate side of our business ranging from accounting and point of sales to ordering supplies and handling employees. Hyunjin, on the other hand, took care of the creative aspects including designing what he deemed an “elegant” menu while also trying out new recipes that our mostly college-aged clientele greatly enjoyed in the form of free samples.

“Y/N!” Hyujin gasped as soon as I walked in the door with Seungmin and Jeongin. “Well?”

I held up a grocery bag full of the straws I had just purchased. “It’s fine, Hyunjin.”

“It’s not fine,” Hyunjin protested, walking over to yank the bag free from my grasp. “I’ll have you know that one of our usual customers left us 4 instead of 5 stars for satisfaction.”

“What will we do?” I deadpanned. “Where’s the new kid? Did you scold him thoroughly?”

“Of course I did,” Hyunjin said, pointing to the kitchen. “I sent him to wash dishes.”

“He’s a cashier.”

“It’s punishment, Y/N,” Hyunjin said. “We can’t have him thinking he can get away with potentially damaging our public image.”

“These kids will still get their morning coffee,” I said. “They don’t care if we’re out of straws as long as they have somewhere to loiter around all day to finish their essays.”

“That’s another thing,” Hyunjin said. “I think we definitely need a bigger place and I know the owner next door said something about moving out.”

“Renovations are expensive,” I said. “And you don’t know if the landlord would be okay with us tearing out the wall to expand.”

“What if I found out?”

“Talk to Seungmin instead,” I suggested, tugging the younger boy forward. “I’ll see about this new guy you’ve decided to torture.”

“Punishment, Y/N!”

I rolled my eyes because I was still frustrated that I had to come into the cafe because of the worst excuse for an emergency in the history of mankind. But what else did I expect from Hyunjin? “Remember to breathe, Y/N,” I whispered to myself.

Back in the kitchen, our newest employee, donned in his decorative jacket courtesy of Hyunjin’s obsession with bright uniforms, was currently bent over the sink with thick gloves pulled up to his elbows. I felt bad for the guy because it was obvious that he wasn’t used to doing something like this. “Hey, kid,” I said, surprising the younger boy who immediately dropped one of the cups back into the sudsy water. “You don’t have to do that anymore.”

“I-I don’t mind,” he stuttered, eyes wide as he held tightly to a sponge.

“It’s not your job,” I insisted, carefully taking the sponge from him like he was a deer that might dart away at any sudden movement. “I’m sorry Hyunjin told you to come back here. To be honest, he was probably trying to avoid this work himself.”

“But I messed up the order,” he said, hanging his head. “It’s my fault.”

“Not it’s not and don’t let Hyunjin tell you otherwise,” I said. “Next time, call me if you’re having trouble with the order.”

I reached into my bag to pull out my business card, holding it out for his reluctant hand which was still slightly damp from his unexpected dish duty. “You’re not mad?” he asked reluctantly.

“No way,” I reassured him. “I used to work during college too, you know. I kinda get it, kid, so don’t worry about anything.”

His smile was sincere, looking at my card like it was the key to the world. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Get back on register,” I encouraged him. “That’s what I hired you for, and next time Hyunjin gives you any shit, you just let me know.”

He nodded enthusiastically, vacating the kitchen as if he was actually thrilled by the idea of returning to the register. I knew all was well when I could hear Hyunjin’s shrill voice from the other room: “Y/N!”

Jisung managed to beat me home and I walked inside to find my husband laid out on the couch with a glass of orange juice in one hand. “Headache,” Jisung pouted at me.

“Take some Advil,” I said with a smirk, ignoring the way his hands reached out for me in exchange for the possibility of a snack from the kitchen.

“Y/N!” I heard him groan my name.

“Sungie,” I returned his call. “I hope this isn’t some sort of elaborate set-up because we have dinner with my mother tomorrow night.”

Jisung was silent in the next room and I shook my head while dumping a sample of chips into one of our plastic bowls. I came back out into the living room to find Jisung rolled over onto his stomach, face buried into the cushions of our sectional. “Baby,” I cooed, trying to lure him out from his hiding place.

“I forgot about the dinner,” Jisung said, voice muffled against the furniture.

“I figured that,” I said, somewhat sympathetic to his plight. For as long as I could remember, Jisung had always feared our family dinners mainly because my mother had a personal vendetta against him. Ever since he first stepped foot on the porch wearing a rented suit for Junior year prom, my mother had deemed him unworthy of my time. Her feelings only worsened when she found out that Jisung was majoring in elementary education. “A teacher, Y/N! That boy isn’t going to be able to support the two of you!”

Subsequently, every visit to my mother’s house meant that Jisung had to listen to my mother read statistics on how poor and destitute teachers were in the city. Meanwhile, Felix also received the same treatment from his father who was absolutely horrified when he found out that his youngest son wanted to open a dance studio with Minho. It didn’t help that my step-father loathed Minho because he found him and Felix in the back of Minho’s corvette smoking enough weed to satisfy the entirety of our high school.

It was a complete contradiction because while Jisung and Felix were constantly reprimanded, Chan and I were bathed in compliments and adoration. “Channie,” my mother would smile. “How are your cases?” Chan was some kind of small claims lawyer in the upper Bronx which meant he made enough money to buy a Rolex for every day of the week while driving an expensive Tesla.

“And Y/N,” my mother would address me. “How’s the cafe?”

“We always do well around Finals season,” I told her.

“That’s wonderful darling!” she would always say while glaring in Jisung’s direction who would visibly falter under my mother’s judgemental stare. “How are your...kids, Jisung?”

“They’re great,” Jisung would laugh nervously. “I had to stop one of them from eating a bottle of glue the other day.”

I would laugh and affectionately run my fingers through Jisung’s hair while my mother remained statuesque-still. “How amusing.”

The pattern persisted to this day and I knew Jisung tolerated the dinners for my sake, but he always protested in different ways. For example, last month Jisung agreed to babysit our neighbor’s Pomeranian because he thought I might allow him to stay at home. And I almost let him get away with his impromptu plans when I remembered that Jisung would have to make dinner on his own and I was horrified by the idea of Han Jisung anywhere near my kitchen.

“Tell your mother I’m dying,” Jisung said, pulling me from my thoughts. “That should make her happy.”

“Han Jisung,” I scolded him, reaching down to gently massage his leg. “I’m not leaving you home alone. You’re prone to more kitchen fires than anyone else I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll order takeout,” Jisung said, kicking his foot out against my thigh.

“If you’re gonna act like a child, then I’ll have to treat you like one,” I said, giving his ass a firm smack before rising from the sectional.

Jisung jolted at the unexpected contact, raising his head to briefly consider me. “What was that?”

“Do you not want to play?” I returned, grinning when Jisung immediately sat upright from his position on the sofa, leaning forward in expectation. “Does this mean what I think it does?”

“Perhaps if you decide to stop being so stubborn about the dinner,” I said, dropping to my knees in front of him.

Jisung’s eyes grew wide with lust, hands reaching out to pull my head closer to his crotch. “I’ll go to as many dinners as you want, babe.”

“That’s better,” I smirked, efficiently undoing his belt. “It’s only for a few hours.”

Jisung was ecstatic, pulling down his jeans and underwear. “I’ll just sit with Felix in the dining room alone.”

“Is that so?” I asked, curling my fingers around his hardening cock.

Jisung nodded, hair falling into his eyes as he watched me with rapt attention. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him recently.”

“What a good sport,” I teased, jerking his cock a few times because I liked the way Jisung’s eyelids would flutter with his pleasure. But he was being remarkably good, so I decided he had earned an end to his apparent sexual frustrations. I took in the tip of his cock, running my tongue along the slit dripping with milky white pre-cum.

“Please,” Jisung begged, grip unrelenting on my hair as he encouraged me to swallow more of his cock, slowly taking him in until I could feel him at the back of my throat. “Can I do it?” Jisung asked with desperate eyes and I nodded once, giving him the permission he desired to move my head up and down the length of his erection, warm and rigid against my tongue. I made sure to moan around him because I knew the resulting vibrations felt really good, enjoying the sounds of Jisung’s grunts as he fucked my mouth.

While Jisung did a majority of the work, I tried to amplify his pleasure when I could like running my tongue along the prominent vein on his cock or using my teeth to drag against the fleshy part of him. My fingernails dug into his thighs, leaving behind marks that would probably vanish after a warm shower. Tears were steadily streaking down my cheeks courtesy of an instinctual reaction to Jisung’s cock repeatedly sliding in and out, hollowing my cheeks to accommodate him. “It feels so good,” Jisung said, palms clammy as one hand came to fan against my cheek, wiping away the smeared streaks of my mascara.

Throughout our years together, I had learned a lot about Jisung including his apparent oral fixation when it came to sex. Jisung loved when I gave him a blowjob as I discovered for the very first time locked away in the Janitor’s closet, tasting Jisung on my tongue for a few seconds before he was cumming down my throat, apologizing incessantly for not being able to last longer. As if I really cared because I was quite proud of myself for breaking him down so quickly. But as much as Jisung liked to receive, he also loved to give and feeling his tongue on my pussy was a guilty pleasure, watching Jisung eat me out like he belonged between my thighs.

“Cumming,” Jisung warned me, grip tightening as his hips stuttered, pubic hair brushing against my nose while the bitter taste of his cum was swallowed down with effort because my throat was now incredibly sore.

Jisung fell back against the couch, fingers pushing my hair back from where it had fallen messily into my face. I shakily climbed into his lap, kissing him greedily because there was no better sight than Jisung completely spent after a good orgasm, especially when it was because of me. “Is that better, baby?” I asked, pecking him on the nose.

“I love you,” post-orgasm Jisung told me entreatingly, eyes swimming with tears as he proceeded to plant dozens of soft kisses against the exposed skin of my collarbones.

Jisung pulled into the driveway of my mother’s house with a morbid expression. “It’s not too late to cancel, right?”

I ignored his comment, opening the door to step out into the bitterly cold evening. “Babe, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“No need to pretend,” Jisung grumbled, reluctantly following me to the porch where I hit the doorbell, smoothing down my skirt because my mother always liked it when we dressed up for these dinners.

But the last thing I expected to see on the other side of the door was Kara, especially a version of Kara dressed in an appropriately sized skirt. “Y/N!”

I’m sure my expression of shock matched the one present on my husband’s face as we both took in the sight of Changbin’s little sister. “Kara?” I questioned stupidly, holding tighter to Jisung’s sweater because I needed something to ground me in the reality of this unanticipated situation.

“You guys look great!” she declared. “Come inside!”

“Of course,” I said softly, pulling Jisung behind me as I stepped into the foyer, shrugging off my coat which Kara took from me to hang in the closet like she had been doing it for years.

“Y/N!” my mother squealed, interrupting the unanswered “why are you here?” hanging between the three of us.

“Mom,” I said, accepting her hug with a wince because my mother was never gentle in her affections.

“And Jisung,” my mother frowned, eyeing my husband up and down. “What the hell are you wearing.”

Jisung looked down at his corduroy pants which I had warned him repeatedly to destroy. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh nevermind with you,” my mother said dismissively, reaching out for Kara. “Look, Y/N, Felix brought home a very nice friend. Are the two of you acquainted?”

“She’s Changbin’s sister,” I told my mother. “Why would I not know her?”

“Oh don’t give me that attitude,” my mother said. “Kara was just telling me about the marketing firm she works for! Isn’t that impressive?”

“My brother’s jealous,” Kara said. “He’s stuck working with kids all day, isn’t that the worst?”

My mother giggled at Kara’s comment while I reached behind me to give Jisung’s hand a reassuring squeeze. I didn’t even need to see my husband’s face to know that he would be fuming over Kara’s words. “I think you can do Felix some good too,” my mother said, now leading Kara towards the kitchen. “That boy is an absolute mess sometimes.”

I found Chan in the living room, eating his way through most of my mother’s groceries. “Channie,” I said, hurrying Jisung along despite the way his feet drug against the carpet. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Chan barely glanced up from his food. “What is it?”

“In private?”

Chan offered me a blank look to which I grabbed his hand, forcing him to the opposite side of the room and away from any potential eavesdroppers. “Why the hell is Kara here?”

“Beats me,” Chan shrugged. “Felix said they’re just friends.”

“Just friends my ass!” I hissed at him. “Chan, you know how stupid Felix gets around her! Since when has Felix brought any of his ‘friends’ to one of these dinners?”

“I don’t want to get involved, Y/N,” Chan said. “It’s really none of our business.”

“But does Changbin know she’s here?”

Chan shrugged helplessly. “How should I know? I don’t see Changbin much these days.”

“Ah, you’re useless,” I declared. “There’s a potentially catastrophic disaster unfolding right in front of your eyes and yet food is more concerning to you.”

“Of course it is,” Chan nodded solemnly. “Why do you think I sacrifice a Sunday night at home to drive an hour over here?”

“What a good son you are,” I said, pinching one of his cheeks. “I’m sure your father would be pleased to hear that.”

“Y/N, I seriously don’t know anything about Felix and Kara,” Chan said, smacking my hand away.

“Listen to me, Chan-”

I broke off when my mother suddenly entered the room with Kara on her heels, holding out a tray of cheese and crackers. “Appetizers!” my mother exclaimed, immediately chastising Jisung when he accidentally dropped one on my mother’s coffee table.

“Leave it alone,” Chan warned me, sparing me no further attention as he joined the others in the living room. I followed him to the couch where I planted myself between my step-brother and Jisung, eyeing Kara suspiciously as she sat herself directly on Felix’s lap, arms wrapped around his neck.

“I think your mother likes me the least tonight,” Jisung whispered anxiously into my ear.

“That’s because Felix has something shiny and new for her to mess with,” I said, patting his thigh soothingly.

“Everyone, help yourselves!” my mother announced, ushering my step-father into the room with a glass of wine in hand.

I handed Jisung a plate. “Do me a favor and keep the food where it belongs.”

Jisung pouted at me. “You act like I’m clumsy on purpose.”

“I don’t need to feed you, do I?” I asked him, ignoring the way he reached down to pinch my waist in warning.

The remainder of our dinner progressed slowly, more so than usual because my mother seemed to have hundreds of questions for Kara. In fact, as opposed to Jisung and Felix being the objects of my mother’s contempt, that title seemed to belong to everyone excluding Kara. Chan and I were rarely spoken to, and Jisung was only addressed when my mother complained that he was chewing too loudly. “Do you see my son-in-law?” she complained to Kara like they were old friends. “He’s never had good table manners.”

I held tightly to Jisung’s hand when I felt him tense next to me. “Jisung’s always been that way,” Kara replied with far too much affection for my liking.

Her comment forced me to recall the very first time I ever met Kara back during my third year of high school. She was a year younger than Jeongin, so she came into our high school as a shy Freshman with only Changbin as an ally. And Changbin loved to brag about how smart his sister was, claiming that she didn’t even need to study because she could memorize everything the teacher said in class. But Changbin hadn’t been exaggerating and I had been slightly jealous of Kara’s easygoing nature, seamlessly inserting herself into our lives as if she had always belonged there. The truth of the matter was that Kara had been attending a private school for most of her life because of her higher intelligence. The school was located hours away from where we lived so we never saw Kara except in brief passing when she came home on the weekends. However, Kara insisted that she wanted a normal high school life, so she enrolled at our local public institution with the goal of making new friends and getting a taste of what her brother always talked about in their long phone conversations.

At first, Kara stuck tightly to Changbin’s side, but it didn’t take long for her to open up to the rest of our group, including Felix whose crush started the moment Kara first walked through the doors. My poor step-brother was enamored, jealous when Kara would start dating some of the older Seniors. Of course, it didn’t help that Changbin remained adamant that Kara never dated any of his friends because they were, in his words, completely unworthy. So, with the exception of the unfortunate incident of Junior prom, Kara obeyed her brother and only showed the other guys affection in the form of a pat on the head or a gentle shove when they said something funny.

By the time I graduated with Hyunjin, Seungmin, Felix, and Jisung, Kara had become another pillar in our dynamic, even appealing to the older ones like Chan and Minho. Yet, when Jeongin finally entered university with the rest of us, something changed with Kara and she no longer hung out with us as much as she had before. Then, there was the matter of her attending college in an entirely different state, only coming to visit sporadically when Felix would bend over backward to make sure she attended one of his fraternity parties. By the time I graduated from college, Kara was more or less nothing but a distant memory, only coming into fruition on rare occasions. Thus, seeing her here today was definitely disorienting, especially since it was only because of Felix that she was here in the first place.

“Kara, you’re such a wonderful girl,” my mother said. “I can’t believe we haven’t met before.”

I rolled my eyes because my mother seemed to forget my Junior year of high school almost as much as I did. “You’ve been such a gracious host,” Kara said to my mother.

“It’s getting late,” my mother sighed, glancing at my step-father who was moments away from passing out on the couch. “We should get to bed, but the rest of you are more than welcome to stay and chat. I know I took up a lot of the conversation.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jisung muttered.

“Anyways, I’ll call you later on this week, Y/N,” my mother said, offering me a lazy wave before collecting Kara into one of the tightest embraces I had ever seen.

Once my mother and step-father had wandered up the steps, Kara came back into the room with mischievous eyes. “Let’s play a game,” Kara suggested, urging us all around the coffee table. I groaned when Jisung pulled me back into his arms, burying his face into the side of my neck like he was prone to do when he was the slightest bit tipsy.

“No more alcohol for you,” I said, swiping the bottle away from my husband who protested half-heartedly.

“What do you suggest?” Felix asked, looking at Kara with starstruck eyes.

“Maybe truth or dare?” Kara said, squealing like she had forgotten that everyone around the table now had a full-time job.

“Why not,” Felix said, reaching for his discarded bottle of Corona. “Would you like to go first?”

Kara giggled when Felix leaned in closer, lips teasing her exposed collarbones. “Keep it PG,” I requested, glaring at Felix.

“Okay,” Kara said, taking the bottle and placing it onto the table.

“If someone can dare me to get laid, that would be nice,” Jisung said and I reached around to elbow my husband in the side for his smart comment.

I watched as the bottle spun around in its defined circumference before landing on Chan who groaned loudly. “Truth or Dare, Chan!”

“Truth,” Chan said, picking up his bottle of beer. “Knowing you’d guys, I’d be forced to drink the rest of this on a dare and I have to be at the office at six.”

“Are you seeing anyone, Chan?” Kara asked, leaning in close like she was about to hear a juicy secret. Of course, I knew better than anyone because I was often the recipient of Chan’s late-night phone calls when my step-brother would complain to me about his sadly lacking love life.

“No,” Chan huffed, reaching out to give the bottle a powerful spin. “I’m always single.”

I reached across to pat him tenderly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Channie, there’s a girl out there waiting for you!”

Felix let out a drunken squeak, turning to look at Kara with a smile. “Truth or dare, Felix?”

“Dare,” Felix said, bouncing up and down from his spot on the floor like a loose spring.

“I dare you to...

“...call Changbin,” I spoke over Kara, enjoying the identical looks of matching horror on their countenances.

“What?” Felix questioned, intoxicated brain undoubtedly having trouble keeping up with the flow of our conversation.

“Call. Changbin.” I repeated, much slower this time to leave no room for a potential misunderstanding. Unsurprisingly, Kara hesitantly shook her head at Felix as if asking him to ignore my request. “Those are the rules,” I informed her smugly, watching Felix as he took out his phone with a shaky hand. He dialed Changbin’s number and we all sat forward in profound expectation of what was about to happen.

That is until Changbin’s voicemail picked up.

Kara snatched Felix’s phone and quickly hung up the call. “He’s not answering, so let’s move on to something else.”

I frowned as I sat back against Jisung’s chest, frustrated because Changbin had probably chosen an early night’s sleep in exchange for answering a friend’s important phone call. “Truth or Dare, Y/N.”

“Truth,” I muttered, folding my arms across my chest even as Jisung started to rub gentle circles into my hips as if picking up on my irritation.

Kara’s eyes narrowed. “Were you jealous when I kissed Jisung at prom?”

The room was dead silent following her vengeful question. My cheeks flushed at the reminder, feeling Jisung squirm uncomfortably behind me. It was a horrible thing to ask me, especially considering the circumstances surrounding the unholy night that Minho had silently termed “the worst day of Y/N’s life.” But I suppose that Kara felt warranted to ask me considering the fact that I had just tried to expose her to Changbin. “Of course I was,” I snapped at her, twisting the bottle while maintaining a penetrative staring contest with Felix’s love interest.

My shoulders relaxed when the bottle landed on Kara, and I quickly intervened before Felix could give Kara an easy way out of what was rapidly becoming a terrible mistake. “Are you dating Felix again?” I asked, watching as her eyes narrowed from my choice of words.

“It’s truth or dare, Y/N.”

“Are you afraid to answer the question?” I asked her. “Or are you just using Felix like always?”

Another long silence enveloped our gathered group.

“I guess I don’t get a turn?” Jisung whispered into the tense silence of the room.

“Holy shit!” Hyunjin exhaled when I finally finished explaining everything that had happened at my mother’s house the previous evening.

“She’s a total bitch,” I said. “Everyone knows that we don’t talk about that night.”

Hyunjin nodded in agreement. “Do you remember the ugly suit I wore?”

I glared at my friend. “You’re not helping and we have customers.”

Hyunjin offered me a salute, returning to the register to accept another order while I aggressively wiped down our counters. One of our waitresses watched me with a gaping mouth until I turned to glare at her. She quickly picked up her tray to retreat back into the crowd of college students.

Now, let me start by saying that Junior year prom was never something I was looking forward to attending. The only reason I even went was because Han Jisung asked me to go and my attraction for him had skyrocketed by this time, to the point where I found myself staring at his ass whenever we had gym together and he decided to demonstrate the correct technique for a pull-up. Our friends deemed our relationship inevitable, the romanticized soulmates who met as kids and grew up together with agreeable personalities. Of course, it also helped when puberty hit and suddenly Han Jisung looked less like the little boy I played with on the playground and more like a man whose dick I really wanted to taste.

For a lot of my classmates, Prom meant an unsanctioned night away from the school where they could lose their inhibitions when someone inevitably spiked the punch bowl. There were no school officials present at the event, only volunteers, and since it didn’t take place on school grounds (but inside of a nearby YMCA) everyone could basically do whatever they wanted without consequence. Thus, the next day’s rumor mill was spinning with tales of romance and deceptions, break-ups and hook-ups, and even the occasional wild story of someone stealing from the radio store next door.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Jisung asked me nervously the moment we first walked inside.

“Sure,” I told him, affectionately adjusting the cute bowtie he had chosen for the occasion, cheeks rosy red as he hurried away.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin said, taking Jisung’s place in front of me. “You look great!”

“So do you,” I told him honestly, appraising his suit which likely cost a thousand dollars just to rent for this one occasion. “Where’s your girl?”

“Who knows, she was just meant to be arm candy,” Hyunjin said dismissively and I snorted at his explanation. “I only came here for the drama and the alcohol.”

“Anything interesting so far?” I asked, grinning when I saw Jisung accidentally knock the punch ladle into the floor.

“Changbin came with a Freshman,” Hyunjin said. “I talked to them earlier and he’s definitely only interested in her ass.”

“How crude,” I remarked. “What about the others?”

“I guess Seungmin and Jeongin came with each other,” Hyunjin snickered. “And I haven’t seen Felix yet.”

I paused. “Felix is coming?”

“It was a last-minute thing,” Hyunjin explained. “Apparently, Felix is bringing someone he really likes.”

“I didn’t know Felix was interested in anyone,” I said, with the exception of Changbin’s little sister, of course.

“It’s getting late,” Hyunjin remarked. “He might have been lying.”

“He wasn’t dressed when I left the house,” I said, remembering the sight of my step-brother teasing Jisung and I from behind our parents while they took an endless amount of pictures while relentlessly questioning Jisung about his appearance.

Speaking of which, I graciously accepted the punch Jisung offered me, taking a sip before wincing. “I think someone added way too much.”

Hyunjin reached for my drink, sniffing the rim before downing the rest. “Not too bad.”

Jisung watched him with wide eyes. “Isn’t that strong?”

“Not strong enough,” Hyunjin complained. “I’m going to find something better. Have fun you two, make sure you use a condom if you’re gonna fuck.”

I glared at Hyunjin’s back as he disappeared into the crowd.

Yes, Prom might not have been high on my list of priorities, but the way Jisung was currently kissing me definitely made it more appealing. After ingesting an appropriate amount of alcohol, a tipsy Jisung had latched himself to my side, whispering rather inappropriate things into my ear before I inevitably found a place where we could be alone, safely tucked away inside the locker room. I drug Jisung to a bench where I immediately straddled his thighs, kissing him with enough force to throw him off balance, hand splayed across my hip as he forced his tongue inside my mouth tasting strongly of alcohol. I struggled to pull in enough oxygen to counter the dizziness threatening to send me falling into the floor. Jisung certainly wasn’t helping matters, squeezing my breasts spilling over the neckline of my dress while pressing sloppy kisses to my throat, erection hard through his dress pants and I had never felt hornier in my entire life. And that includes the time Minho bought me a vibrator for my birthday as a joke but I still tried to use it and ended up masturbating to the thought of Jisung fucking me on my mattress.

“You feel so good,” Jisung whispered to me now, rolling his hips into mine as he sought additional friction. I held tightly to the lapels of his jacket because it felt really nice through the thin fabric of my dress when he would move just right, pressing against my clit with a wonderful pressure that nearly made me cum before he could even put it inside.

“Sungie,” I panted into his ear, tasting every inch of his beautiful honey-golden skin. “Please fuck me.”

“Can I?” Jisung asked, thrusts growing erratic as if affected by just the thought of his cock hot and heavy between my thighs. “Yes, of course, baby. I’ll do that for you.”

“Condom?” I managed, reconnecting our lips because I was quickly coming to the realization that Jisung was a wonderful kisser.

“Shit,” he cursed against my mouth. “I left them in the car.”

“I’ll get them,” I said, reaching deep into the pocket of his suit pants for the key, inadvertently brushing against his cock.

Jisung moaned loudly. “Hurry back, baby.”

“And this!” I said, standing up from his lap to reach into my cleavage to pull out a piece of fabric.

“That was in there the whole time?”

“Not important,” I said, shoving the fabric at him. “Put this on?”

“What is it?” Jisung asked, unraveling the cloth.

“A blindfold,” I said and he looked up at me with evident surprise.

“Why do you want me to wear a blindfold?”

“Just put it on, please,” I begged him.

“Why?” Jisung whined, a complete contradiction to the mess he looked with an erection still prominent in his pants.

“I don’t want you to see me,” I said, blushing at the thought of Han Jisung seeing me naked because I was certainly nothing like those busty girls in the porn magazines I found under his mattress.

“Okay,” Jisung grumbled, probably because he was just as aroused as I was even if that meant doing something that might seem utterly ridiculous to anybody else.

“Don’t take it off,” I warned him, glancing over my shoulder to see Jisung tying the blindfold in place.

Satisfied, I silently rushed back into the gym, making my way to the exit despite the obscene displays taking place all around me courtesy of several pairings of passionate couples. I did my best to ignore them, even though I was pretty sure I saw Hwang Hyunjin in the center of the dance floor, shirt unbuttoned and chest exposed for everyone to see. But Hyunjin loved to be at the center of attention, so I left him to entertain the majority of the women flanking to him like a magnet while I jerked open the door to Jisung’s Sudan, finding the condoms across the dirty backseat of his car.

I grew even more excited just by looking at them, hiding them carefully in my hand as I rushed through the parking lot in my haste to find Jisung again. At this point, the party was in full swing, music loud and pounding, testing the acoustics of the YMCA which probably never hosted anything else this insane and chaotic before. But I was on cloud nine, ready to finally have sex with someone I had been crushing on ever since Jisung had shown off his abs to a doubtful Changbin. However, when I re-opened the doors to the locker room, I stumbled in my heels as I was greeted with an unfortunate visual. An unforgettable image of Kara on top of Jisung, kissing him passionately while she practically forced him to grope her chest. “Y/N,” Jisung moaned, apparently completely unaware of who was actually grinding on his dick.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” I finally shrieked, completely horrified at the display that would forever engrain itself into my subconscious.

Jisung immediately pulled off his blindfold, eyes widening in shock when he unceremoniously dumped Kara into the floor who loudly protested. “Y/N?”

“Jisung,” I said, looking back between him and Kara with panicked eyes and a broken heart. I had never felt so betrayed before in my entire life, and there had been moments when I felt downright disgusted with my poor choice in men. But Jisung was more important to me than the casual flings from my past, which probably explains my sudden desire to escape the situation that was forcing messy tears through the mascara clumping my eyelashes together. I left Jisung behind in that nasty locker room before losing myself to the crowd of my classmates.

There was only one person I wanted to see, and I found Hyunjin now re-clothed, talking to some other girls when he first saw me approach. He greeted me cheerfully, only realizing my condition once he stopped to notice the tears falling freely from my tired eyes. “Y/N,” Hyunjin said, expression falling as he pulled me into his arms tightly. “Why are you crying?”

“I saw her with Jisung,” was all I managed to get out before Hyunjin’s eyes were practically blazing with fury.

“That little shit,” Hyunjin cursed, grabbing my hand and leading me through the partygoers who were too busy drunkenly grinding on one another to notice the two of us. “Changbin,” Hyunjin said, interrupting the older boy who was currently fingering the edges of a freshman girl’s panties, practically dry humping through their clothes.

“What is it?” Changbin snapped at Hyunjin, eyes narrowed until they landed on me. “Y/N,” Changbin said, tone much softer as he abruptly dismissed his date who whined about their loss of contact. “What happened?”

“Jisung needs his ass kicked,” Hyunjin said and Changbin needed no further encouragement.

“Where the hell is he?”

It was frigidly cold in the parking lot and there was way too much going on around me. I could barely handle the yelling between Changbin and Felix, my step-brother having found us outside with Jisung trailing behind him, but Hyunjin was arguing with Seungmin and Jeongin, refusing to let Jisung close to me. This night was rapidly becoming one of the worst of my entire life and that says a lot because I had once watched my own father walk out of the house without so much as a goodbye.

“Get out of the way, Felix,” Changbin suddenly growled, fists balled at his sides.

“It’s not his fault,” Felix tried to explain.

“Why is Y/N upset, then?” Changbin demanded, shouldering his way through Seungmin and Jeongin who were certainly no match for a physically stronger Changbin.

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Felix said. “It’s Kara’s fault! She didn’t need to take things that far-”

“Kara!” Changbin interrupted, now even more furious than he was before. “Did you do something to my sister?”

“Not him,” Seungmin suddenly interfered. “Kara and Felix got into a fight and Kara snuck into the locker room to get back at him.”

Changbin took a step back, suspicion bright in his dark eyes. “What did you say?”

“I thought it was Y/N,” Jisung finally spoke up, eyes wet with tears. “She didn’t say anything to me. She just came over and I was waiting for Y/N!”

“What happened to my sister!” Changbin growled.

“She kissed me,” Jisung said, flinching a little when Changbin tried to charge at him, intercepted by Seungmin and Jeongin who held him back by his with as much force as they could manage together. Jisung turned to look at me, gaze entreating as he reached out a hand. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I thought it was you.”

I shook my head, refusing to even look at Han Jisung because my heart was hurting in my chest and the night just continued to grow more and more confusing. “I’ll take care of Y/N,” Hyunjin finally said, sending Jisung a nasty glare before guiding me further and further away from the source of my pain.

But don’t ever let anyone tell you that Seo Changbin didn’t have a soft spot for Han Jisung because, at the drop of a hat, the older boy would immediately be at my husband’s side. And I thoroughly took advantage of this when I asked Jisung to invite Changbin over to our house for dinner one night, the two of them arriving together with Changbin clutching tightly to his sleeping bag. “I guess you’re spending the night,” I remarked.

“Why wouldn’t I? We work at the same place,” came Changbin’s usual response, tossing his bag onto the couch while he followed Jisung into our bedroom, complaining about something to do with the air conditioning. “Your apartment is so much nicer than mine!”

I finished cooking in relative peace, making sure to keep Changbin’s wine glass constantly full because a tipsy Changbin was much easier to deal with than the serious version who would likely explode when he heard my story. “So nice of you Y/N,” Changbin said as he slurped his spaghetti. He and Jisung were always messy when it came to pasta so I tried to ignore their nasty habits.

“Changbin,” I said, studying the older carefully. “I heard Kara was visiting.”

Changbin shrugged, shoving more food into his impossibly small mouth. “She’s been staying at my place.”

“Really?” I asked. “Why haven’t we had a chance to meet her again.”

Changbin glanced up at me. “You don’t even like, Kara, so why would I bother?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “She’s your sister, of course, I would be interested.”

“She stays busy a lot,” Changbin said.

“With who?”

“With work,” Changbin said, taking another long drink of the expensive wine I bought just for this occasion.

“She could have come tonight,” I said carefully, but I had been apparently pushing too far because now Changbin was suspicious.

“What are you getting at, Y/N?”

I took a deep breath, sensing Jisung watching the two of us over a mouthful of noodles. “I saw Kara the other day at my mother’s dinner.”

Changbin paused, considering me with a scowl. “What?”

“She came to our dinner,” I repeated. “With Felix.”

And with the exception of Jisung’s chewing, the room had grown relatively silent. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”

Changbin turned an accusatory gaze at Jisung who just rapidly shook his head and drank more wine. “Probably because she didn’t want anyone to know,” I said. “I think your sister might be trying to start something with Felix again and we both know how badly that turned out last time.”

Changbin dropped his fork, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “So nice of everyone to keep me informed.”

I relaxed a little because Changbin wasn’t reacting as violently as I thought he might. “I wanted to be sure and I got the information I needed today.”

Changbin sighed. “What information?”

“Minho looked through Felix’s phone at their dance practice,” I said. “He saw some messages with Kara. Apparently, they’re going to dinner tomorrow night. Isn’t that nice?”

Changbin’s jaw clenched as he took in this news. “And I’m assuming you have something planned?”

“Maybe,” I said with an innocent shrug. “It could be that Minho, Hyunjin, and I happened to make a reservation at the same place.”

“You’re gonna spy on them?”

“Would you rather us not?”

Changbin scoffed, dark hair falling into his eyes. “Are you asking me to come?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Well of course I do,” Changbin grunted impatiently, reaching down for another forkful of spaghetti while I sat back in my chair with satisfaction.

“This is surprisingly classy of Felix,” Hyunjin remarked, rolling down the window of Minho’s SUV to perch a pair of binoculars on the end of his nose.

“Aren’t you taking this too far?” Minho asked his friend.

“These?” Hyunjin asked, adjusting the lenses. “How else am I supposed to see what’s going on?”

“This is my sister we’re talking about,” Changbin spoke up, tugging at the frayed sleeves of his borrowed jacket.

“And Y/N’s stepbrother,” Minho added.

“I don’t claim him by blood,” I said, reaching over to slap Changbin’s hands. “Stop messing with that, you’re gonna ruin it, and this is Jisung’s nicest coat!”

My husband in question had opted to stay at home since he was probably the smartest out of all of us when it came to potential confrontations. “You’re rich enough to buy him another,” Changbin grumbled.

“He doesn’t wear them,” I said. “I buy him all sorts of clothes, but they always sit in his closet.”

“Who’s he trying to impress at an Elementary school?” Hyunjin snorted.

“Can’t we just go inside already?” I asked, slowly massaging my throbbing temples.

“Yeah, but can you shimmy the lock on your door?” Minho requested. “I’m pretty sure it’s broken.”

I accommodated his request before the four of us walked into the restaurant with an air of nonchalance. Nothing but four friends since childhood deciding to eat out together for a gourmet meal. It reminded me of college when the four of us shared the same lecture, a one-time occurrence because Minho forgot a general education course, and we always ate together because it ended in the early evening.

Of course, there was always the matter of the other three using me to find the answers to our homework assignment because they didn’t feel like completing the calculations.

The hostess inside the restaurant greeted us, checking Hyunjin’s reservation before leading us to our table. “Do you see them?” Hyunjin asked, deciding not to be so discreet in the distracting way he moved his head around, surveying the restaurant landscape with a sharp eye.

“This is so stupid,” Changbin grimaced.

“Are you too cool to eat with us?” Minho joked, gasping when he noticed the free wine samples menu.

“I’ll look around,” I said. “Give me five minutes.”

“And then what?” Hyunjin asked even as I was already moving away, sticking to the outskirts of the finely decorated tables. According to Minho, Felix and Kara should have already been at the restaurant for half an hour, probably weighing the consequences of keeping their new affair a secret from the rest of us. But I had no intention of letting them sneak away with anything, determined to get to the bottom of whatever relationship Felix was attempting with Changbin’s little sister, the same person who had openly scorned and rejected Felix in the past. This really demonstrates just how powerful a crush can be when it involves someone as determined as Felix.

“Aha!” I murmured quietly, discovering the couple together near the private dining room at the back. Reaching for my cell phone, I sent Minho a quick text message, waiting for a moment or so before I could see the three boys carefully making their way to my hiding spot.

“Ridiculous,” Changbin muttered, but he let out a disappointed sigh when he saw his sister and Felix together. “I guess you were right.”

Changbin was squatting down in front of the display of plants, peeling back the branches to find a better view. “Damn, Changbin,” I said, reaching down to give his ass an appreciative slap. “Who are you trying to impress?”

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Changbin snapped at me. “It’s not my fault that Han’s flatter than his vocal pitch.”

“Burn,” Hyunjin remarked while I scoffed in response.

“Jisung is a great singer.”

“Yeah, the kids are so impressed,” Minho giggled, ignoring the glare I sent him over my shoulder.

“They can’t be dating,” Changbin said. “I would have known about this. Kara would have told me!”

“That definitely looks like a date to me,” Minho teased Changbin.

“Unless friends share five-star meals now,” Hyunjin commented, glancing at me. “Interested in eating out again tomorrow, Y/N?”

“Only if you pay,” I replied dryly, watching Felix and Kara with intent.

“I can’t stand this,” Changbin declared, attempting to blow our cover by rising to his full height.

I desperately tugged on his shirt. “They’ll see us!”

“I don’t care,” Changbin grunted, pulling away from me only to march down the staircase to where Felix and Kara were laughing together over a meal of what appeared to be filet mignon and cabernet.

“Should we watch or get involved?” I asked, grinning when Felix finally realized that Changbin had spotted them. The all-consuming look of existential dread passing across his features was well worth the price of admission, including an outrageous gratuity fee.

“Definitely watch,” Minho nodded, tossing an arm around my shoulders. “You did good, Y/N.”

“Unless Changbin causes a scene,” Hyunjin remarked.

“I hope he does because I can record it for Jisung later,” I said, letting out a satisfied grin when Changbin stopped at their table.

Minho was one step ahead of me, pressing the record button at the top of his phone. “Maybe we’ll become YouTube famous!”

“I can’t believe you told him,” Felix snapped at me later. The six of us were outside the restaurant, having decided to pull Changbin and Kara away from the reproachful eyes of the upper elite who wanted to dine in peace.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m looking out for you.”

“By outing me to Changbin?”

“Of course,” I nodded, watching as Kara received a stern lecture from her older brother. “You can’t honestly be considering a relationship with Kara?”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Felix asked.

“You must have a selective memory,” I said. “Or did you forget what happened in high school?”

“That was a long time ago!”

“She also used you during college. Don’t tell me you think she came around campus just for your company?”

Hyunjin, from somewhere to my right, let out a low whistle. Minho stood next to him, taking in the drama unfolding around him with eager eyes. “I don’t care about any of that!” Felix protested. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Felix,” I said, lowering my tone. “I just want you to be happy.”

“Well you’re doing a really bad job with that,” Felix snapped.

“It’s not because I don’t want things to work out,” I said. “I just know who she is and what she’s capable of.”

“Is that so?”

“You were too, Felix! Everything she ever did to you was always in an effort to hurt you. That’s why I have to interfere, to make sure that she doesn’t do anything like that!”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t care. You aren’t my real sister, so stop trying to act like it!”

His words were crushing and I suddenly felt equivalent to the world’s smallest person as I watched Felix walk away into the haze of city lights.

Jisung was sunshine and he once told me that he would do everything in his power to make me happy, even getting down on one knee to propose at our college graduation ceremony, nervous hands sliding a beautiful ring onto my finger. Jisung always knew when I was feeling sad or angry, dropping everything that he had been working on to make me feel better. Like in instances such as this, when my step-brother publicly disowns me, walking away without looking back once to assess the damage he had made of my fragile heart. “I deserved it,” I told Jisung, closing my eyes against his chest as I enjoyed the soothing water of the bath he prepared for me.

“No, you didn’t,” Jisung countered, wrapping his arms tightly around my middle. “You thought you were helping him.”

“I guess I have no right to interfere,” I said. “Even if I’m worried that Kara will only hurt him again.”

“And she might,” Jisung agreed. “But I think Felix can handle it. Sometimes, you forget that he’s all grown up.”

“I ruined our relationship,” I said. “Felix won’t ever talk to me again and Kara is probably mad at Changbin.”

“Felix can’t avoid you,” Jisung said. “You have the same friends.”

“Ha,” I snorted. “You don’t know Felix very well. If he sets his mind to something, then there’s nothing that can stop him.”

“Actually, I do know Felix, and that’s why I’m pretty sure he’ll call you any day now and ask to talk.”

I turned around in his arms, trying to see any hint of teasing in Jisung’s brown eyes. “Why do you think that?”

“Because Felix respects you, even if you make him mad,” Jisung said, surprising me with a gentle kiss. “He told me all the time when we were younger that he thinks you’re one of the coolest people he’s ever met.”

“Felix said that?”

“Yeah,” Jisung nodded. “And I completely agree.”

“You’re obligated to say that,” I said. “Marriage and shit.”

“But I’ve always meant it, Y/N,” Jisung insisted. “You have a really good heart and you always have our best intentions in mind, even if that means you feel the need to spy on your step-brother.”

“Now it sounds creepy,” I complained.

“I can’t imagine you dragging around Changbin, Minho, and Hyunjin, hiding behind tables in the middle of an expensive restaurant.”

“That’s funny because I can’t imagine you in an expensive restaurant at all.”

“Really?” Jisung grinned, digging his fingers into my sides. “Try saying that again.”

I squealed in his arms, pleading for mercy. “I thought you wanted to relax?”

“This was all for you,” Jisung said, pulling me onto his lap. “I think we should go to bed early.”

“I am tired,” I smirked.

His cock was hard against my lower back. “What if I let you ride my face?”

“Then you’ll be the best husband in the world.”

The following Saturday, Jisung’s prediction came true when Felix’s name flashed across my phone screen while I enjoyed lunch with Seungmin and Jeongin. “It’s Felix,” I hissed at them before taking the call. “Hello?”

“Y/N,” Felix’s deep voice greeted me on the other end. “I hope you’re not busy.”

“I’m just having lunch,” I said, waving my hand at Seungmin who was attempting to mouth imperceptible words at me from across the table.

“I want to apologize for the other night with Kara,” Felix said. “At dad’s house and at the restaurant.”

“I’m sorry too, Felix,” I said. “I shouldn’t have told Changbin about his sister.”

“No,” Felix sighed. “But Changbin deserves to know the truth. He called me the other day and told me that Kara had left the next morning. She didn’t even bother telling him where she was going.”

I felt my heartbreak for my step-brother. “I didn’t think she would do that.”

“You don’t have to be nice, Y/N,” Felix said. “Everything you said about Kara was true and I should’ve listened.”

“I never did any of that to teach you a lesson, Felix.”

“Yeah,” Felix murmured into the phone. “It doesn't matter anymore. Kara’s gone and I’ll have to move on.”

“But I still feel really bad,” I said. “Maybe we could all hang out tonight? Like we did before we had adult things to worry about.”

Felix chuckled. “I think that sounds nice.”

“Keep your hands away from the food,” I scolded Jisung, giving his ass a firm slap before directing him out of the kitchen. “This is for the party tonight!”

“But it smells good,” Jisung complained.

“You can have as much as you want later,” I said, frowning at Changbin from across the room. “Are you trying to break my mother’s vase?”

The older boy scowled at me. “I can’t reach, alright? You were the one who asked me to decorate.”

“Please help him,” I said, sending Jisung rushing to hang up the streamers before Changbin could possibly sabotage our apartment. The others were due to arrive at any moment and I was already unprepared, food still cooking and my husband and his friend proving to be completely inept at decorating. I wanted everything to be nice for Felix, but honestly? He shouldn’t expect much from this crew.

Graciously, the arrival of Hyunjin brought about an extra few inches of height, allowing the streamers to hang gracefully from the mantlepiece. “What would you do without me, Y/N?” he inquired innocently, handing me the cake he had brought from our cafe.

“I’d need to buy a step ladder,” I teased him, rushing back into the safety of the kitchen to avoid his retaliation. In the meantime, Jisung happily answered the door for our other guests, ushering them inside to crowd our living room. Sadly, our apartment was never meant to be large enough to accommodate this many guests, but it was strangely cozy with all of us together.

“It’s been a while,” Chan remarked to Changbin. “Why don’t we do this sort of thing anymore?”

“Beats me,” Changbin replied. “But Y/N has a nice selection of wine.”

“I’m glad that’s the reason you come around,” I remarked, bringing out the final tray of food to fill out the rest of the table. “Whenever Felix gets here we can eat.”

“He shouldn’t be so late,” Minho said, trying his best to sneak a cube of cheese from the corner.

“Patience my friend,” I said. “It will make everything taste so much better.”

“Not with your cooking,” Minho teased, protesting when I threw my oven mitt at him over the counter separating the kitchen from the dining room.

“You’ll never change,” I remarked.

“Why would you want me to?” Minho asked, ignoring my glare when he grabbed a handful of popcorn.

“Do you want to be suspended from my house?”

“Jisung would never allow it,” he said, whining at my husband. “Right, Sungie?”

Jisung looked back and forth between the two of us. “You two are sometimes worse than my kids at school.”

Before I could offer a compelling comeback, the ringing of our doorbell paused our conversation. The sound indicated Felix’s arrival and Seungmin was the first to greet him, holding him close as they entered the dining room. “Nice of you to join us,” I said, handing my step-brother a plate. “This is all for you.”

“I’m honored,” Felix said, accent thick as he abruptly pulled me into a vice-like grip that nearly knocked me off my feet.

“Too much,” I choked out.

“Don’t kill my wife,” Jisung joked, intervening before Felix could possibly squeeze any more oxygen from my lungs.

The remainder of the evening passed by with a nostalgic tone, the nine of us gathered together in the living room to watch anime on TV while Hyunjin complained about our newest hiree again. “Hey,” he said, snapping his fingers in my direction. “He already had two strikes. One more mess-up and he’s gone.”

“He’s just a kid, Hyunjin,” I said. “Remember when you used to work at Starbucks? I’m surprised you even managed to stay on for an entire year!”

Hyunjin protested loudly over the laughter of 8 other people who clearly remembered sitting in Starbucks on Campus just to watch Hyunjin mess-up orders while whining at the customers to slow down when he was in charge of the register. “He gave me a macchiato when I asked for an Americano,” Minho said.

“One time, Hyunjin closed the store an hour early because he forgot about our project,” Seungmin interjected much to Hyunjin’s chagrin who was now very much embarrassed.

Jisung pulled me closer to him on the chair next to the fireplace, watching our friends talk with obvious affection. “I think Felix is happy.”

I nodded my agreement, observing him from afar. “We did a good job.”

“You did a good job,” Jisung corrected, leaning in closer to whisper directly into my ear. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Love you more,” I said, gripping tightly to Jisung’s hand with no intention of ever letting go because our hold on another had never lessened from the very first day we met as kids, unaware that we would be sharing the rest of our forever together.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han jisung smut #stray kids han #han fanfic #han smut

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blackberrydothings · 4 years ago

Text

Duke Thomas vs the non-verbal vocabulary

Duke Week (but like a week later) of @duketectivecomics day 6: All in the Batfamily.

Summary: When Duke joined the family he knew he would have to learn lots of things, including survival skills and where Alfred hides the cookies. He never thought that he would need to master the unspoken language that lies under every action of the bats.

Duke finds himself trying to understand his new family’s ways of communication, until he starts doing the same.

Notes: sorry for being late! wanted to make this fic without dialogue but gave up at the first try. If u see any mistake, u can go ahead and tell me, my English is far from perfect. Well, that’s all, thanks for reading! (I don’t own any of these characters, they belong to dc comics and that stuff)

….

The sun is setting when Duke arrives at the cave after a long but quiet day, his body aching for a nap or one of Alfred’s meals, whatever comes first.

If it weren’t for the blue light coming from the computer and the sound of typing he would have thought that the place was empty. But Duke can distinguish Bruce profile from where he stands, taking off his helmet. The older man is sitting without his cowl, his posture the one of someone who is trying not to fall asleep. The bags under his eyes a confirmation that Duke does not need.

“Long day in Wayne Enterprises?” He tries as an attempt at small conversation. As usual, it does not work. Bruce gives him a side glance and murmurs something to himself, not bothering to clarify what it was. Even so, he notices the man relaxing a little in his presence, which Duke counts as a win.

He knows that he can’t fool anyone (much less the Batman) but he takes longer to put his things aside, pretending that he has to stay in the cave a little more time than necessary. When there is not any excuse left, he heads towards the exit. Bruce has not spoken or abandoned his position in front of the computer yet, an open case in front of his eyes.

“Have you ever thought about going on patrols during the day? You know, for a better sleep schedule.” Duke asks, fully aware of the answer and when Bruce gives him a grunt, he has to suppress a laugh.

He is too far away to listen when in a low voice, the man answers: “It would ruin the aesthetic.”

….

Alfred, as the omnipotent force that Duke has started to think that he is, is there when someone from the family needs him. But even so, he is always surprised to find the man in the kitchen making him breakfast.

Duke is usually already on his senses at six in the morning, and a few minutes later he is going downstairs, more often than not passing by one of the other bats, still dressed up and yawning. When he arrives at his destination, Alfred is there with a relaxed pose, like waiting for him.

“Morning, Alf” Duke says while offering his help, just for the man to deny it. It takes a few seconds to be ready but then Duke is drinking his hot chocolate with a smile on his face.

“Did you sleep well, Master Duke?” Alfred asks while sitting down at his side. It is a rare sight, given the fact that the man is always doing something, and Duke is secretly proud to be able to see him like that, when there are no immediate worries or tasks.

“As good as one can ask for.” Duke shrugs and then adds “Eight full hours tho.”

“Four more than the average in this house.” The man says, and Duke is not sure if it is the morning or the words itselves, but he laughs.

The silence that follows is comfortable, and neither of them has a wish to interrupt it. They keep each other company until Duke finishes his breakfast, and when he has to go, Alfred stands up offering a warm smile, before he also starts with his day.

….

Duke hates nightmares.

Yes, he fights criminals on a daily basis, he knows pretty well how to manage Two-Face or the Penguin, but nightmares are another type of monster all together. And he hates them.

They often start as good dreams, the kind of dreams that makes you want to stay asleep, but also the kind of ones where you do not want to realise it is not real. And that does not help Duke when they transform into madness and chaos. When the images of a happy childhood become the picture of a broken family, and the laughs coming from his parents stop fitting them.

But there is something that Duke hates more than nightmares: waking up from them. Waking up, alone in a bed that is not the one from his home, is just a reminder that there is nothing untrue about his dreams. That he has his parents, but that their minds had gone far away.

He adjusts in his bed while trying to suppress a sob when he realises that he is not alone this time. Duke should be surprised that Dick is laying on top of his mattress like it is his own, but he is not. In fact, it is more of a common occurrence around the Manor to find more than one bat sleeping in a single space (yes, that includes Bruce); but them appearing in the middle of the night to Duke’s, well, that’s not as common.

“Couldn’t sleep, yours was closer, I hope you don’t mind” Dick’s eyes remain closed but he speaks in a voice that is too clear to be sleepy. Duke knows he is lying, his rooms are not even on the same floor, but decides not to comment on it.

“Sure” he answers, and something in the back of his mind relaxes. He might not know if Dick really wanted company or if he has some older-brother-sense that warns him when someone needs him, but he is not complaining.

Duke’s nightmares won’t go, but he has a family. He is not alone.

….

Wayne Manor has a library big enough to entertain yourself for months, and Duke has spent several hours on its quietness. But there are days, just like this one, when he prefers to go to the public one, where the things do not seem so immaculate and he is not afraid of stepping on something.

As almost everything in Gotham, the public library is old, with high ceilings and large corridors that Duke is pretty sure could lead to the underground if he gets too distracted. Dirt gathers on top of the shelves with books never touched, and the light coming from the large windows gives an ethereal aura to the place.

Duke has been looking for something to read for the last hour, four books placed on one of the tables near his bag, but none of them caught his attention for more than a few minutes. He is already sitting down with a fifth on his hand when he notices a movement at his right. A figure that Duke recognizes appears with their own books and takes a place next to him.

Jason looks extremely calm when he nods towards Duke as a greeting, like he belongs in the library and its silence more than anywhere else. It is an interesting sight to contrast with his usual booming and alert self.

They stay like that a few more moments, until Duke groans tiredly when the fifth book ends up being as boring as the other four. He is ready to get up once more when he hears a soft laugh coming from Jason. As soon as Duke looks at him he realises that his brother is offering him a book from his pile, a face that might say “I dare you”. Duke is not someone who would back out from an unspoken dare, so he takes it.

It is apparently an old collection of poems, the cover is worn out and some of the pages have notes in a neat handwriting that must be Jason’s. If it weren’t because he was the one who offered it, Duke would feel like he is intruding. He starts reading.

Duke spends the rest of the afternoon in the library, with a silent companion.

….

It is three in the afternoon and the cave is empty.

Duke has been looking at the ceiling for the last half an hour while trying to tie up the loose ends of a case that had gone cold a week ago. He got it yesterday morning when the Police Department desisted from keeping an investigation, probably remembering that they could send it to one of the bats.

He has the feeling that helping in cold cases happened more often in the daytime than in the night, where the Police Department (and Gordon) were already used to having the extra help, or were already resigned to it. There are a limited number of times of the Batman appearing in the middle of a crime scene before you get used to it, after all.

At least three other files were gathered beside him in the pile of “solved”, and its results were already sent to the Police Department (and to the batcomputer record). It was the fourth case that was starting to give him a headache. A young man had been found dead in his home by heart attack, no history of any heart disease in his family. The only clue is a combination of substances that were not part of any known drug.

Duke hears the steps of someone coming down to the cave, and by the way they move he can bet it is Tim. He looks towards the sound and confirms his suspicions, he catches the grunt that comes from his brother as a greeting before he sits down in front of the computer. He is ready to focus again on his task when Tim speaks, on a tired yet alert voice.

“Why did you upload this to the computer?” Tim is pointing at the list of substances that Duke looked for just a few minutes ago. Without result.

“A cold case.”

Tim mutters something under his breath and starts typing with quick movements. The silence seems to be filled with it for the next minutes, while Duke keeps an interested eye on his file. Confusion is shown on his face when, with his powers help, he identifies something flying towards him. He catches the pencil that Tim sends his way with his right hand, and watches it intensely.

“You know, if you wanted my attention you could have just said something.” Duke comments when he does not find any other reason why Tim would throw him a pencil. His brother, once more, mutters something while asking for Duke to get closer with a movement of his hand.

When he does it, Duke notices that three files are open on the computer: Duke’s current case, the components of a pill that he does not identify and a new tab in which Tim seems to be working on. He also notes that some of the substances of his case appear on the other two.

“Okay, I am getting it, but how did you…?”

“Last night patrol, some new drug in town. Apparently it is getting popular between university students that want to keep awake for finals.” Tim answers with a shrug, and before he gets to drink more of the coffee he has on the table, Duke takes it. “Hey, I am helping you.”

“Well, I am returning the favor. Go to sleep, Tim.”

Tim complains about betrayal and annoying members of his family. Duke does not care, he has time to insist, his case is solved after all.

….

Duke likes Steph.

When he joined the family, she was the easiest to get along. The majority of them acted nice, but they were also pretty much disinterested, not even batting an eye towards him. It took Duke a long time to realise that sometimes the bats were just like that: silent. Steph, on the other hand, always had something to say, and for Duke that was the little bit of normalcy that he needed.

He might never admit it, but he suspects that the other reason they got along from the beginning was because neither of them was sure of their places in the family. Yes, for sure they belonged to it, but for completely different reasons they were at the edge of it.

So, already gotten used to her randomness, it was not even weird when she offered to go on a daytime patrol with him. Duke liked the company, so he accepted, and every once in a while since then he finds himself with the voice of a purple vigilante on his coms.

“No, don’t take the avenue. It is going to be crowded.” Duke warns when Steph informs him of an armed robbery on Gotham City Bank.

“Crowded? Of what?” her voice comes muffled by her mask and the white noise.

“Of people? And their vehicles?” Duke says in his most obvious voice, and then he realises. Without even trying to suppress the smile, he clarifies “You know, people are outside now, going to work and stuff, it is the middle of the day.” Steph does not answer.

When the day is getting over they sit on a rooftop enjoying the view of a safer Gotham, even when they both know that the night will be as dangerous as always. Steph has been complaining about how impossible it is to hide in the daytime, and Duke has been trying to explain to her how that is kind of the point.

Duke likes Steph, and loves listening to her speak, but as any other bat, the things that she does not fully say are the one that he appreciates the most.

….

The sun has setted a few minutes ago and not many people are still in the Manor. Duke has been moving from doing his homework and watching the movie that is being played on the TV. Now that he thinks about it, he should turn off the thing.

He gets startled when Cass appears from the darkness itself and sits down next to him. He has been getting used to her sudden entrances since they started working together more often with the Outsiders, but he was pretty sure that she was not even in the house.

“How…? Weren’t you on patrol?”

“Changed day with Tim” she says, without further explanation, looking at the papers in his hand and then at the movie, she keeps silent while the screen shows the image of a vast space “What is that?”

“Hmn, that’s Star Trek. This is my math homework.”

“Star Trek?” she asks while spelling the words with her hands, then just using sign language adds “A space travel documentary?”

“No, no. It’s a movie, a really impressive one. It’s about a futuristic society where…” Duke starts explaining but thinks better of it “But not as impressive now that we have a Superman. You never watched it?”

Cass denies it with her head, and Duke starts telling her the basics while she gets comfortable by his side. She seems confused by some of the things he enthusiastically describes, but she listens nonetheless. A few minutes later they are both watching the movie, homework forgotten. At some given moment Cass nudges him.

“Other day, you dance. With me.”

Duke smiles, he would like that.

….

Silence fills his room and Duke is ready to turn off the light and call it a day when he hears the knocks on his door. Damian does not even wait for his response and opens it.

“Thomas” he says, and his voice sounds mildly annoyed “I am in need of your assistance.”

Duke gives him a questioning look. Damian is not dressed for patrol, and if Duke is not wrong, this has to be his free night. So saying he is surprised by the request is an understatement. But the kid does not explain, instead he turns around and goes back to the corridor. Duke gets up and follows him.

Damian is already going downstairs when Duke gets to him. It must be a weird sight, he thinks, a child all formally dressed at ten in the evening, while the teenager is in his pajamas trying to suppress a yawn. But Duke does not have time to share his thoughts when they arrive at their destination.

Damian opens the door to one of the many rooms of the Manor, and waits for Duke to enter. If it weren’t because he is pretty sure that the kid at least estimates him, he would be worried. The only two things in the room are an easel and a stool. Damian gets closer to them, and Duke once more follows.

Now that he sees the easel better, he can discern a pencil drawing on a white canvas. It looks extremely similar to the outside of the Manor. Damian seems relaxed by his side but he can tell that the kid is nervous. Of what, Duke is not sure.

“Did you draw it? Because it looks amazing.” Damian unsurprisingly does not answer, but he looks to truly relax this time, and Duke is tempted to assure him once more, even when he knows that the kid would dismiss him. Dick older brother’s vibes must be getting to him.

“It is not finished. I still have to paint it.” Damian clarifies, then, like it hurts him like hell, adds “Your help with the lighting would be… appreciated.”

It is not a request, more of an obligation, but Duke still acts surprised for a few seconds. He looks again at the painting, he is not sure of being able to tell how the lights actually work, but Damian still looks interested in his opinion. So he explains, he shows all the points where it can come, and how that would affect the whole picture. Duke must admit that he feels pretty dumb doing it, he might have light related powers but he has no idea how to paint, but still, he finishes his overview.

Damian seems to be in deep thinking for a few seconds, then he nods towards Duke and gives a glance to the door. Of course.

“Your presence is not required anymore” the younger one says.

“Yeah, almost didn’t notice” Duke murmurs while heading to the door, but thinks that he was able to catch the shadow of a smile on the kid’s face. That will have to be enough.

….

It was half past six in the morning and Duke was tired. No, he was exhausted.

Yesterday was a long day, without even counting the meta that has been trying to destroy the Gotham City Museum. Duke has been falling behind with his schoolwork, and the attack has not helped him. Besides, he did not remember about the delivery of an essay for his literature class until midnight, when he started to write it. Not being able to fall asleep before five in the morning was what Duke would put in the cons of being a vigilante. Having to wake up early on the morning was a con of being a daytime vigilante. Both of those things happening on the same day was what he would call a fucking bad day.

Duke is yawning while he goes downstairs, already suited up and hoping that all of Gotham’s rogues had a night as long as his and won’t be going around the city. For the first time in weeks he is considering drinking coffee instead of his usual chocolate, maybe Alfred actually knows a way of making it tastier.

He is arriving at the kitchen when he feels it, not because of some bat-sense, but because he hears the loud voices. He opens the door and knows it: Duke lied, the bats are not silent. They can be difficult to read, they might not be good at explaining their feelings, but silent can’t be a word to describe them when they are together. They are loud and dramatic. Duke loves it, but not when he had a long night. Just like today.

They are all here, still suited up and with sleep deprived faces. Jason’s helmet is on the floor near the door, and the man himself has one arm up in the air grasping a mobile phone, the other holding Dick back, who seems to be trying to get his device again. Both of them are mocking the other with high pitched voices that do not really fit them. Duke is pretty sure that they would have tackled one another if it weren’t for Bruce, standing in the middle of the pair, each hand on their shoulders, but not really doing something to help any side. He has a small but genuine smile on his face.

Cass is suppressing a yawn while she eats pancakes, she is listening attentively to Steph, who is doing wide gestures to tell a story about an old lady that tried to convince her to date her nephew. Steph has bags under her eyes and a band-aid on her jaw that seems to be from last night, but still explains the story as it is the most interesting thing of the week. Duke makes a reminder of asking later.

Damian is sitting in front of Cass with a similar expression. He has Alfred (the cat) on his lap, and Duke can see that he is still wearing his suit pants under a two sizes bigger hoodie that probably belongs to Jason. His cape and domino mask are on a pile at his feet painted with a weird substance that Duke prefers not to know. He looks half annoyed and half amused.

Duke notices that for the first time Tim looks to be drinking an orange juice instead of a coffee, being the only one not suited nor ready to fall asleep. Tim, of all people. Behind him Alfred is making something (Duke bets that more pancakes), and seems to be the only one to spot him on the door. They exchange a smile (well, the old man gives a smile, Duke a panicked expression), before he resolves that he can get breakfast in some place in the city. Having had a long day and night means that he does not have to put up with all his family this early in the morning, he decides. Duke is going backwards when he hears Damian’s voice.

“Thomas is here” he announces. Damn kid.

They all stop mid-action and look at him. Bruce clears his throat and gives a step back, probably wanting to come back to his professional persona and failing when he almost trips with his cape. That gets a snicker from all of them, except for Jason who laughs freely. Bruce, with his most poker face, pretends nothing happened. Duke is tempted to remind him that he already knows his not Batman self.

“You must start your patrol on Gotham Harbor” he reports “We got information that a new drug shipment will arrive in less than an hour, Black Mask henchmen will be there. They will not expect someone in broad daylight.”

“We found some clues leading to a recently abandoned Scarecrow’s hideout, he might attack before sunset.” Steph adds, pointing at her and Dick with her finger.

“Poison Ivy is trying some new substance” Damian warns while giving a side glance to his cape. “Might want to prove it.”

Duke looks at them with his most deadpan expression, his body is aching for a rest that he will not get. Well, there it goes his quiet day without rogues. He groans in frustration.

Everyone understands.

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riseatlantisss · 5 years ago

Text

His Sweet Kiss

Jaskier x female!reader

warnings: body issues, sense of not belonging, but mostly fluuufff !

Jaskier knows you are struggling with insecurities and body issues. And while he cannot fight that battle for you, he certainly can help you realize that you are never alone.

one-shot, 1,7k words

@antigonick thank you so much for your help/support on this

A/N: Writing this fic was therapy for me, and if it can help anyone else out there too, then I am happy ! Enjoy, you beautiful people <3

English is not my first language, please excuse any mistakes.

“Honey, are you ready?” Jaskier’s voice echoed from the other room. “We have to leave if we’re going to make it on time. Now I know it’s hard not to be blinded by my amazing voice and my utter handsomeness but still, it would be weird if you weren’t attending our own engagement party!”

You were actually really far from being ready. You weren’t even sure you wanted to go at all. Here you were, standing in front of your bedroom mirror, wearing the dress you had specially made for tonight. It was a stunning bare-back black dress with gold lace trimmings on the collar and sleeves. The only problem was that it was tight. Very tight. And it was revealing. Very revealing. You did not anticipate that. You thought it would be the final touch to a perfect night. You thought you would be confident enough to pull it off when the time came. Now that you were actually seeing yourself wearing it, all your dreams and expectations for this very special night seemed to have gone up in smoke. No pride, no confidence, no beauty. On the contrary. To your eyes you just looked fat, disgraceful, silly. Like a disgusting pile of jello. You could not stand it. Tears blurred the reflection in the mirror and you looked away. I can’t do this, you thought, as you quickly slipped out of the dress and put your large, comforting nightgown on.

“Come on, honey,” Jaskier pleaded as he entered the bedroom. “We’re going to be la--” he stopped short when he saw you sitting on the bed, hugging your knees up to your chest, the dress lying beside you. He understood right away that you had been crying.

“What’s wrong?” he immediately asked in his softest voice.

“I’m sorry. I – I don’t feel good. I have a headache.” You cringed at the lame excuse. You felt ridiculous. You couldn’t even make eye contact with your future husband. That felt particularly harsh because as far as you remembered, Jaskier had been the only person in the world to whom you could tell anything. You never ever felt self-conscious with him. He had shown you time and again that he loved every inch, every curve of your body. He always looked at you in pure awe. He wrote songs about his boundless love for you, and told tales about what he called your “infinite beauty”. Still, you couldn’t shake this feeling of unease and anxiety. The mere thought of having all eyes turned on you tonight while you wore a tight, revealing dress made your chest hurt.

Jaskier frowned and sat on the bed beside you.

“Y/N, it’s me. What’s going on?” He muttered. He had attempted to keep his tone light, but sounded genuinely worried.

“…Nothing.” You weren’t fooling anybody. Your voice cracked, your throat sore from crying. Your whole face felt tight with drying tears. You couldn’t pretend anymore. Not with him. “It’s just -- the dress,” you finally mumbled, still avoiding Jaskier’s gaze. “It looks ugly on me. I don’t have the right body type to wear it.”

“Nonsense!” Jaskier exclaimed. “You are gorgeous!”

“But look at me.” You sobbed, “Let’s face it, Jaskier. Your friends are sorcerers, royals, bards... They are all talented, powerful people. Everything I am not. I know I shouldn’t care about all this because I love you, and that should be enough for tonight, but I can’t help it. I just don’t fit in.” It felt good to finally explain all this out loud, but it did not ease any of your anxiety.

Jaskier rubbed his neck and pulled his arm around your shoulders. You felt his fingers tuck your hair behind your ear. A finger trailed down your cheek and under your chin. He lifted it up gently, coaxing you to look at him.

“Let me tell you something,” he said, looking deep into your eyes, dead serious. “I don’t fit in either.” You frowned and gave him a questioning look, but he went on before you could protest. “We don’t fit in a society of boring, conventional people who all look the same. We are all different and we come in all shapes and forms. Of course, it is not easy to be confident in the face of judgement, but our appearance matters not as long as we stay true to ourselves and support and love each other for who we are.”

You didn’t have anything to reply to this. Not right away anyway. You buried your head into his chest but you were no longer crying. He just said everything you wanted – needed – to hear for such a long time.

“So,” you asked after a little while of remaining silent, “you feel insecure too sometimes?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I do!” he scoffed.

Now, that was surprising. To you, Jaskier was always the confident and outgoing bard who never feared standing in front of huge crowds, getting out there, living life to the fullest. Well, it turned out he too could feel as vulnerable and doubtful as you sometimes did. And somehow, knowing this, you loved him even more.

“But you know what,” Jaskier added, “you are the one that gives me courage every time I fear something. I could never be the man I am today without you by my side. And these people you speak of? None of them holds a candle to the light you give off. You’re the light of my life. Every sunrise, every winter day, every rainfall, every twinkling star in my world.”

Once more, you were speechless. You felt the physical pressure of anxiety lift as he spoke, so you just listened to him. And you smiled. You smiled wider than you had ever smiled before. And more importantly, you seemed to have run out of excuses not to go to your engagement night. Though you didn’t move, not yet. You didn’t want to. The warmth of his chest was all you needed at that moment.

“Are these lyrics for a new ballad?” you asked.

“Might be!” Jaskier chuckled, “but everything I said is true. I love you, Y/N. I just want you to be happy.”

The dress was still beside you. You gently caressed the fabric, admiring the sumptuous colors and quality of the drape. It really was a stunning, expensive piece of clothing, but right now you kind of hated it.

“Is it ok if I don’t wear the dress tonight?” you asked after a while. “I still don’t really feel comfortable--”

“Y/N. The- Dress- Does- Not- Matter”, Jaskier intoned.

“But, it’s such a waste…I mean, if I don’t wear it tonight, I don’t think I’ll ever wear it.”

“Let me wear it then!” Jaskier laughed as he grabbed the dress and put it in front of him. “The color does match my eyes, don’t you think darling?”

You burst out laughing. “I guess that’s an option!”

“Seriously though, I don’t want to you to worry about all this,” he muttered, softly caressing your hair. “On the other hand, if you do want something to worry about, Geralt told me he’d come to our engagement party with Ciri and Yen, and all their mage and witcher friends.”

“Oh my,” you laughed. “How many people are we talking about exactly?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing that means dozens of sorcerers who can cast spells and manipulate fire will be there, so yeah, definitely worry about that.”

You shook your head and laughed. This night you had been dreading so much promised to be very interesting after all. And you were starting to think that it would be a shame to miss it.

Jaskier gently kissed your forehead and let you get ready. You still weren’t comfortable enough to wear the dress, so you decided to wear something else, something you loved and you knew your future husband would love too.

Before leaving, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. For once, you weren’t afraid to look at the reflection. Quite the contrary. For the first time in a very long time, you were happy with the way you looked. You could even say you were beautiful.

Jaskier beamed with joy as soon as he saw you. The bright moon rising behind him made his eyes glow almost amber and his hair shone a golden shade. He was wearing dark blue linen pants and the silk red surcoat you loved so much. He was very elegant, as usual.

“How am I supposed to just stand next to you when you look this gorgeous?!” he exclaimed, making you twirl as you walked over to him.

You were wearing a simple but cute long-sleeved loose dress, which happened to be the most comfortable piece of clothing you owned, and also the most special, for one particular reason.

“Wait,” Jaskier stopped and took a step back to take a better look at you. “Isn’t that the dress you wore that night at the tavern, when I --”

“The night you kissed me for the first time?” you grinned. “It is.”

Jaskier leaned forward and kissed you ardently, holding you tight against his chest, as if he would never release you. You held on to him, smiling into the kiss, feeling his arm tighten around you. What a night, you thought. Full of so many different emotions. You used to think that your self-consciousness and your insecurities were like scars on your body that could never fully heal. You used to think you would have to find ways to hide them like a shameful secret in order to fit in, even if it meant never being happy. But why pretend and seek happiness in impossible places, when true bliss was right here, right now, in your husband’s arms, on your way to celebrate your love? It did not mean you were definitively and irrevocably rid of your old familiar demons, but you were getting there. Yes, what a ride of emotions this night has been. And the night was still young.

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sif-the-tsunami · 4 years ago

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Ropes and Roses: part 2

Summary: Elizabeth Rosehill is a talented dance instructor and a force of nature that beguiles her famous student. Event in her life, however, have led her to search for more creative ways for her to keep herself afloat. What will she do to keep her dreams secure and what will it mean for her blossoming relationship.

Warnings: I promise that we are getting to some fun stuff, this one is mostly flirtation, fluff, and some feminine bisexual chaos.

A/N: I love some bisexual chaos. let me know what you think.

@achaoticaugust @thelastsock @viking-raider let me know what you think?

Word count: ~1600

Henry looked around the studio after placing the yoga mats down. The light tan wood floors creaked softly under his footsteps, the walls coated with a light blue paint made the space feel calm and inviting, he thought to himself that the color combination reminded him of a day at the beach. One wall was covered with mirrors, the other had a rack with more yoga mats, brightly colored jingly hip scarves, and photos taken of various dancers. Elizabeth walked back into the room wearing a soft gray shirt over the curve hugging leggings and tank top she was wearing for the previous class.

“So, Greg told me this morning that they had not fully finished the plans for the dance scene, and he was willing to take my input. I have reviewed some of your fight scene footage, I think I have a good idea of where we can start. And I’m not going to lie, with your strength, I bet you would be a lot of fun to swing dance with. Now, lets get warmed up.” She began.

She kicked off her shoes and sat down on the mat, her movement was almost fluid. He watched her black painted fingernails run through her hair, the soft curls bounced gently as she leaned her head to left slightly. Henry joined her on the floor. For the next twenty minutes he mirrored her stretches as best as he could. With every new stretch, Elizabeth would praise him for his effort. Every “good job!” she exclaimed would perk him up. He would do yoga with her every day if it meant he could hear his new teacher shower him with praise.

During the stretches, they chatted about hobbies. Something about her demeanor made him open up more easily. She teased him for still playing WoW, but he playfully jabbed, “Oh I’m sorry who all plays Elder Scroll Online still?”

“Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

The last position they did required them to have their legs spread apart and trying to lean forward enough to drop their elbows on the floor. It was pretty clear to Henry he wouldn’t be able to make it down that far. He could feel a tightness in his lower back that was keeping him from going too far forward.

“You don’t need to go as far as me, just as far as you can. Do your best, Henry. Take a nice deep breath in with your mouth, hold it for a five count, and exhale with your nose.” She said, her voice like velvet. “You are doing a really good job, keep up the effort. I’m willing to bet that if you kept doing stretches like this, in about four months, you could probably get your elbows down like this.”

He looked at Elizabeth’s large brown eyes, trying hard not to check out her body and immediately regretting wearing his dark blue track pants. She moved upright as smooth as ever. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking that she was showing off for him. He knew women would occasionally bend over backwards to impress him, and often it would work. It allowed him to be very picky with his romantic liaisons. She was up before he was, and reached out a hand to help him. With that gesture, he snapped out of his train of thought.

The dance instructor did everything she could to evoke any form of dance from Henry’s body. It was like trying to juice a rock. “So I think what we are going to try to accomplish is a basic tango. You get to look strong and imposing, your partner gets to look hella sexy. Win-win, right?” She said, trying to sound optimistic.

“It’s not too late, you can tell Greg that I should just be really great at Chess.” He teased.

“Don’t you tempt me, Mr Cavill. I might just do that.” She laughed for the first time in front of him. “So I have plans for the next couple nights, but if you want to really try to improve, I can get a partner for you to practice with on Sunday night. We would have to wait until after the school’s fall recital. But I can give you a couple hours.”

“Do you think I could actually get better.”

After a pause, and a long drink from her bottle of water, she responded as diplomatically as possible, “Well, Mr Cavill, if you don’t mind my honesty? You can’t get much worse.”

“Ouch. Ow. You hurt all two of my feelings.” He feigned insult. She raised a single eyebrow and saw right through him. Oh no, he thought, she knows I’m an absolute marshmallow.

“Uh huh, all two of your feelings. Right. So, Sunday night?” She giggled a little.

“Oh yeah, I’ll be here.” They then said their farewells, and left the studio for the night. Henry made his way home to a very excited Kal. He might still hate dancing but he enjoyed his time with Elizabeth. What was it about her that made him want to please her? Her whole face lit up when she smiles, her laugh was like music.

That night he dreamed of the teacher, and wondered just how flexible she actually was.

***

Sunday night was an absolute joy for Elizabeth. She loved watching the little kids tap dance, the couples showing off their waltz, and the group of women who show off their tribal routine. Before the last dance, she noticed that her newest student tiptoed into a spot in the back. She was actually kind of excited to let him see what she could do. Being a very thorough researcher, she knew he would be able to learn a basic routine, especially given the amount of fight choreography he had mastered. She would be able to make the connection from his brain to his body. He might not enjoy it, but she appreciated the level of dedication that he had shown in the past and was willing to put forth for her.

Between performances, the families with littles mingled and left the studio. The group of belly dancers sat on one side of the room, the couples from the ballroom dancing stayed to another side. Henry stayed in the corner by himself, hiding in an open room with a baseball cap and a hoodie.

Elizabeth came out from the back wearing black pants, a black suit jacket and a sparkly silver bralette. Her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her partner, Genevieve, wore a formfitting red dress with lovely long blonde curls. She had agreed to perform this particular dance months ago and the anticipation was palpable. Inspired by the Frieda Kahlo movie, they had always wanted to perform a two woman tango. Elizabeth and Genevieve moved together like lovers deeply enthralled with each other. The music was sensual, but not nearly as sensual as they were. The two never broke eye contact until the very end of the dance. For a brief moment, she flashed her big brown eyes at Henry. His eyes were the size of dinner plates and he gulped hard. Good, she thought, I still got it.

Genevieve and Elizabeth hugged as the students applauded their display. They wrapped up the showcase, some more mingling and gradually the other adults left. Henry stayed to himself while waiting for his teacher to be ready.

“So, Mr Cavill, what did you think?”

“That was… oh my god, so... Wow… I don’t know if I can make a coherent sentence right now.”

“Thank you, that was exactly what I was going for. Henry, this is Gennie, she will be your partner tonight.” Elizabeth removed her jacket and pulled on a black tank top to get ready for their practice. She saw him sneak a peek at her changing, looking at the roses tattooed all over the right side of her torso. Gennie and Henry shook hands to begin their time together. Elizabeth was right, they were a good pair.

Their evening was well spent, Genevieve was a gracious partner. They had great chemistry together, Elizabeth was even able to take a short video to show to Gregory. She noticed that when the connection was made by Henry his whole body language changed. He loved to be told how great he was doing. The visible pleasure made her want to keep praising him. Before the evening class was done, Elizabeth also figured out what would make her pupil begin to laugh, and the more he relaxed the more he gave her. They became a great team, and a genuine friendship was beginning to form between the two.

***

Over the next few weeks, Henry and Elizabeth would continue their lessons. Over one lunch with his friends, the actor spent more than half of their time together telling the group of the instructor. He couldn’t stop himself from singing her praises. When someone suggested that he was developing a crush on her, he laughed to himself and denied it.

“Come on, Hank, you keep telling us how funny and cute she is. When you are done working together, ask her out.” Jillian suggested.

Jillian’s husband Jeremy asked Henry to describe the woman he had been talking about.

“Short, curly hair, she has some pink streaks in her hair, brown eyes, she kind of looks a little like a sort of retro pin-up model. She has a tattoo of flowers on her rib cage. I think she’s pretty.”

“American you said?”

“Yeah, from Southern California.”

“Huh, how about that.” Jeremy said vaguely. The questions seemed a little out of character for him but maybe he was actually interested in who she was. Henry tried not to overthink it, but it sat wrong with him the rest of the day.

#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut

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for-peace-war · 4 years ago

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No, really. Lovecraft Country sucks.

These are spoilers, but I also don’t give a shit because it’s a bad show and I hope you skim enough to fucking skip it. I took a few days to decide if I hated it enough to write this and well, I do.

I will try my best not to say “X is a bad actor,” but instead stick with the characters as they’re intended save for one particular issue.

The Story

It isn’t very Lovecraftian. And don’t take this as me saying Lovecraft was some kind of master of his craft. I think he was an absurd racist that used xenophobia as his guise for what truly horrified the sane mind. That being said, the element of the unknown is definitely the hallmark of his world and that in no way is represented in this show. It could easily be called “Goosebumps: The Black Version” and it’d be just as authentic--if not more so, really.

The story deals with the Bible (?) and magic that comes from uh, knowing the names of things. You speak a made up language and then you do some kind of confusing magic that has no real purpose or point. I sound dismissive of this because I am, to be clear. They could have just as easily had this language be something whites stole from Africans and then perverted into their own means of power (it’d be a pretty easy parralel to any number of imperialist issues left behind in Africa, huh.)

But anyway, it has a tentacle monster. I think we see a big scary octopus at one point. But the monsters are often in your face and it’s probably less scary than Stranger Things S1.

Honestly, the characters repeat “autumnal equinox” so much that I felt I was going to have a fucking breakdown. Just the writing is very empty and no one seems to really care about anyone else on the screen except for in a rare moment between the only two characters that make it far and matter.

Characters

They aren’t very good. There are tropes present, which isn’t bad at all, but the way the characters interact, speak, and in general move us through the story feels stilted, often nonsensical, and entirely reliant on the viewer assuming that the latest sentence spoken is the only one that matters.

Atticus “Tic” Freeman

A war criminal that derives his power from the white blood inside of him. Again, dismissive but true. We see this man struggle to connect pieces to a puzzle and eventually he pays the price for it, but not in the way Lovecraft would have someone pay for endeavoring beyond their realm. Rather, something about fate and a book. Look, honestly? Who gives a shit. Tic murders a woman in coldblood and it’s never really touched on. There’s a lot that could be said about militaries, oppression, etc, but we often see these characters enact violence and then the story skips merrily beyond it. So yeah, he summarily executes a Korean woman and then is later shown torturing another, but it’s okay because he feels a little bad and fucks the Korean sex demon woman. More on that later. I felt nothing for him. He didn’t have some deep animus over being a torturing war criminal. He was just kind of moving through scenes and having confusing fights with his girlfriend/baby mama.

Letitia “Leti” Lewis

This is what empowerment shouldn’t look like. It amuses me that the show claimed to subvert some kind of norms when the primary love interest (and ultimate heroine) remains the lightest skinned sister in the room. She is able to maintain the appeal of the ingenue while at the same time having the understood attractiveness of her complexion. As far as Leti is concerned as a character, she too seems to be a pretty shitty person. We hear that she has “transactional” friendships and she seems pretty much all about self-survival and rarely if ever puts up where others do. She’s a heroine in the sense that the story makes her be heroic, but it never addresses how her flaws are ultimately all self-inflicted and unnecessary. She could just not be a shitty person.

Hippolyta Freeman

Well. Hidden Figures was an excellent film, and I think that’s where Hippolyta came from. In a more serious series, perhaps she and her daughter could have had a very touching arc that would deal with survival and exceptionalism in a world that maligns you for your very being. Unfortunately, in reality she just comes off as a character that’s quirky in a world that’s also quirky and she doesn’t get to harness her power. There’s an entire episode dedicated to how she discovers who she is and the result is well, her hair turns blue and she makes robots? I think the character TYPE is great, but they misused her here in all ways.

George Freeman

Well, well. If the series had remained about George, Tic, and Leti adventuring through America and encountering sundown towns and monsters both human and otherwise, I think it’d have been okay. The issue is, they wrote this series by the numbers so George is immediately thrown away. He’s a wise and circumspect guy that has his own flaws (he has patrarchical notions built around protecting/babying his genius wife, clearly), but the flaws he has are understandable and well reasoned. George dies early on. Then he sort of doesn’t, I guess? But the fact he did was really the nail in the coffin for this series. The moment they did that, the rest just became empty strokes. A story where George witnessed the others dying and going back to his wife and daughter would have had so much more heart to it, but well. Uncle George is literally one of the few bright spots.

Ruby Baptise

Much like her sister, Leti, Ruby is a terrible attempt at showing empowerent on the one hand, and a masterwork on the other. The bad first: she’s a rapist. I’ve been called a nigger before and while it didn’t feel great, I don’t think I’d have been justified in just sodomizing the person that did it. That entire sequence was weird and they tried to hype it as her reclaiming something, when really it spoke to a disgusting and gratuitous tendency toward Ruby: she’s always too much. Ruby, IMO, should have been Tic’s love interest. In a sense. First, because Wunmi Mosaku was a very attractive woman with impressive acting chops (she’s where I’ll break my moratirum, sorry), but also because it wouldn’t be what you’d see in every other show now: light-skinned pretty sister, dark-skinned sexual eikon. And that’s the issue with Ruby there: she’s always too much. She’s sexual by existing and that isn’t necessarily to her benefit since Leti, the good one, is an actual virgin before her sudden period sex. So the narrative has already spoken as to how it views sex. Yet, because they tried to give Ruby these strange strokes, she comes out as an interesting character. She has feelings, aspirations, and dreams that she’s kept from and that’s very real. In a story about the absurd, a sense of realness is a familiar handhold to gather your wits. She’s all that, really. It’s why she has the best relationships in the show, which is AGAIN an issue, but well. I’ll say Ruby was never bad to have on screen though I was disgusted with how often her blackess (and Blackness in general!) became the source of grotesque horror.

Christina Braithewaite

This is where I get annoyed. My issue with Christina is that she should have easily been the most hated character, but they overplayed their hand with not showing how nefarious she was. In fact? Christina and Ruby’s relationship is the only meaningful, real, and understandable one in the entire series. I felt no joy during her downfall, because I didn’t really get to see her doing anything bad? Just, consider what the show is. It’s about Lovecraft’s lore, ostensibly, which treats all non (specific types of) white men like dogs. So Christina comes at it from the “white” but “woman” perspective and you know, she has moments of duality that you can say is she more white or woman here. But they don’t execute on how sinister she should be. She’s a little rude at times? Yet she is the only person to treat Ruby like she should be treated and she’s the only person that seems to have a goal outside of “the quest.” It really bothered me that she came out so well done, because either they needed to have her for two seasons and make her far more nefarious after the first, or to just make her less a force for good. She saves the characters more than a few times and pays for it by being killed when she’s at her lowest. Yeah, it’s... a weird take.

Ji-Ah

What can I say? There are depictions of sex in the series, and they’re all negative: most of Ji-Ah’s scenes, Montrose’s angry self-loathing sex with his boyfriend, Ruby’s morphic horror scenes. In the case of most of those, there’s something being said. Ji-Ah is a monster, literally, that could be seen as Lovecraftian in the sense she’s an exotic Asian woman that kills men that sleep with her. So, HBO was like “we’ll blow our tits and ass budget on her,” and she exists for a series of sex scenes and vague, inscrutable... shit, maybe SHE is the most Lovecraft of all the characters! Anyway at some point she joins the party after confusing drama with Leti because they both fucked Tic. It’s okay though, because Ji-Ah isn’t here for any of that now. She’s the one who had the best friend that had her teeth yanked out by Tic, and also who was there when he shot her other friend in cold blood, but they get over that and she’s now their friendly red panda pal or some shit. It’s fucking trash. Much like the Freemans (sans Tic), I think she’d have done great in another show. But they rushed her story and it felt less Ghost Nation (Westworld) and more Masturbation (Jordan Peele).

Diana Freeman

Confusing. A stock character (quirky kid that does art, is impetuous, and won’t take no for an answer) that is given a lot of screen time. When she sort of hijacks an episode when two ragamuffin girls chase her down and infest her or something because racist cops. Well, the story veers to her direction. What can I say? If you like 11 from Stranger Things but wanted her to have Mike’s attitude, well. Here you go.

Montrose Freeman

He could have been a good character, I guess. He seemed unnecessary and often was there purely for an x-factor of “uh?” Like, his infamous scene where he slits a two-spirit Native American’s throat after we learn that this indigenous person had just been restored after being raped by bad guys. So there’s that. Also I guess he was self-loathing so he beat his son (that may not be his son???) and also liked fucking dudes, which was I think where we were supposed to care about him. It’s like someone saw Omar was a gun-wielding desperado of drug theft and decided, “Well what made him okay is he’s gay!” But it didn’t add much. I get he was angsty but other than Tic calling him a “faggot” (one of the few good scenes between them in terms of emotion), it all seemed empty and kind of meandering. At no point does Montrose seem a part of the team. He just half-mumbles, gets angry, cries, and falls apart.

Captain Seamus Lancaster

He’s barely a character, but I need to include him for another point. He’s the “bad guy.” I guess? He uses the bodies of black men to stay alive, which is actually a really smart reference to black bodies fueling the American system, but it comes off as cheesy because it just never comes up. He’s cartoonishly bad in a way that he’s less sinister than a meme. Compare him to say, Ridgeway from Colson Whitehead’s The Underground Railroad. One’s a sinister representation of an oppressive system and the other’s well, a joke.

Racism

How could this not be a theme? The issue, as was shown with Lancaster, is that it isn’t even remotely handled with seriousness. The best scene of racism is in the first episode when Tic, George, and Leti are forced to leave a Sundown county before they’re lynched by the racist sheriff. The anticipation and animosity lead to some serious anxiety and it was a nailbiter.

But after that? White people say “nigger.” Then they get, I don’t know, raped or spit on or who knows. A lot of black people talk back to the cops anyway in the 50′s and that’s cool.

But the real monsters of the series are all black people. Let’s go through it:

Tic brutalized women in the Korean War.

Montrose killed the two-spirit person.

Ruby rapes the shop owner.

Diane crushes Christina’s throat.

Ruby literally sheds her flesh in repeatedly gratuitous acts of the grotesque.

Even Ji-Ah, who’s not black, is a monster in the literal sense. We do see the doctor that experimented on black people, but that’s about 5 minutes at the end of an episode that has a baby’s head on a man’s body so I was too busy laughing at the absurdity to take any real meaning from it.

The truth is, in Lovecraft Country, white people always should do their best to kill or keep black people down. It definitely doesn’t speak at all to any togetherness or what have you. Just, well. Magical negroes doing bad stuff because nothing can stop them.

The show misses the chances to show real horror in race. Hell, the Tulsa Riots are reduced to a backdrop for a confusing book scene. But then again, Emmett Till becomes a kind of empty reference point that we then see a white woman act out... for some reason?

Again, the only characters with any chemistry are Ruby and Christina, which is very unfortunate for any number of reasons. As far as a statement that racism is bad goes, I mean. I barely saw it. If I was a racist I’d be like hell yeah, Lovecraft was right they are dangerous.

Even when people try to indicate the horrors of it like, “Oh, the Korean War scenes are bad because we see how men are forced into the military complex!” We didn’t see a white officer say “Shoot her, boy,” it was just two black guys killing women with no care at all. And no compeuppance, so that’s cool.

The Music

Sucks. Thanks Peaky Blinders for making modern music over gif sets a thing.

Conclusion

I sure as hell would never watch it again. If I can get one other person not to, then maybe it’d be worth it. It’s not a good show. It’s not “smart,” and there’s no secret subversion in it. It’s just... bad.

I won’t post on it anymore. Please, in true Lovecraft fashion, trust me when I say that this show is so bad it cannot be comprehended.

#lovecraft country

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krreader · 5 years ago

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under the same roof.

pairing: a.c.e x reader (platonic with hints of flirting) fandom: a.c.e warnings: language genre: fluff word count: 2.3k+

summary: your new neighbors were quite loud.. but it wasn’t until later that you found out why.

a/n: SO, as I’ve said this morning, this is going to be a little project of mine that will help both me and - hopefully - you guys. I want to write for underrated groups as well, but I unfortunately rarely get any requests for them and because I feel like the reason for that is because not a lot of people know about them, this is my solution. little, short stories that will hopefully get you kind of interested in the group. for starters, here is a.c.e, a group I’ve been listening to NON-STOP lately. the gifs are made from their most recent mv that you can find here, the entire group is filled with talent and if you have the time, please check them out and show them some love. I hope you enjoy this story and are looking forward to this project ♥ (ps: don’t worry, I won’t suddenly stop posting bts stuff or something like that lol, there will be another bts one - or about a single member of the group - tomorrow)

This apartment was everything you ever dreamed to have.

Sure, it wasn't necessarily the biggest with its 1.5 rooms plus bathroom, but it was enough for you and your needs.

And it wasn’t just the apartment itself, it was the area you were living that was definitely a lot better than where you had originally thought you'd end up with.

You had been looking for months, but all the apartments that were shown to you were in areas that you didn't feel comfortable in or the apartments were so run-down that you were afraid something would break upon touching it.

So you decided to invest a little more, but get something that you'd genuinely love coming back to at night.

And this was it.

If it.. weren't for the noisy neighbors that seemed to sing whenever they were at home.

The first day after getting your keys was fine, but maybe that was because after unpacking the first few boxes you had been so dead that you fell into your bed and fell asleep right away and didn’t hear anything else after that.

But on the second day you started hearing them. They were men.. more than one, probably even more than two, laughing, singing, screaming. And it was only then that you realized you maybe should have asked the landlord about the neighbors and about whether or not the walls were thin.

“If they're too loud you should just ask them to be quiet,” a friend of yours had come over after about a week of you staying in that apartment. She brought food and wine for you to celebrate your new place.

“I don't know, it could be worse I guess,” you shrugged, “I quite like their singing, actually..”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, “Imagine them having girls over.. that would be worse.”

You both started giggling at the thought of that.. and because maybe you've both had a little bit too much wine. But you didn't suddenly become deaf. The moment you heard them again, you were both immediately quiet, you pointing at the wall and looking at your friend with that: “I told you!” expression.

“You know what, this is the perfect opportunity,” she gulped down her last bit of wine in one go, then got up and pulled you to your feet as well, “You haven't introduced yourself yet, right?”

“Wh..- What? No, I don't want to! Not now!”

“Come on, don't be rude, you've living next to them for a week and you haven’t even said hello yet. You should at least know what the men look like that keep you up at night,” she laughed, probably thinking about something completely different as she just dragged you along despite your prostest.

She cleared her voice, then knocked on the door, making you think that she might want to talk to them as well..

..but nope.

The moment she pulled back her hand, she ran back into your apartment like a child, completely ignoring your: “No, don't!”.

You should have known that she’d pull a stunt like this. She was drunk and she thought this was funny and maybe she even wanted to give you a little push to talk to new men, but this wasn’t it, sis. You weren’t in a good condition to meet new neighbors, they’d think you’re super weird knocking at their door in the middle of the night, wearing sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt.

“Open the door!” you hissed.

“I did,” a man chuckled.

Oh god, this was so humiliating.. even more so when you saw that, no, this wasn’t a guy in his late forties who gave up on life, but a very handsome young man that looked like he was in his prime.

"Uhm,” you started to fidget with your hands, “Hello.”

“Hi,” he laughed once again.

God. That's all you could think of. God.

But standing there like you were now, just staring at him, wasn’t a good idea either. You might as well introduce yourself.

“I'm.. (Y/N),” you cleared your voice, trying to be more confident as you slowly approached him, “I just moved into the apartment next to you. Well.. technically a week ago.”

“Ah, we thought someone new moved in.. I’m Jun.. nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

“Oh, we have a new neighbor?” another head peaked around the corner, smiling when he saw you, “It's nice to meet you! I’m Yuchan!”

“Nice.. to meet you too,” you smiled, “I’m (Y/N).”

And before you could say anything else, another man joined, but he just smiled at you and waved a little.

“So.. there’s three of you and I heard you sing quite a lot so.. are you guys a.. trio then?”

“There’s two more, actually, but they’re out having dinner right now.”

“Oh, wow.. so you’re an actual band, then?

They all hesitated. For a second you thought you had said something wrong, but then Jun started to smile and nod, but he didn't say anything else.

“Are we too loud?” Yuchan asked.

Should you lie? They were a band after all, so you could understand them singing.. and you liked it when they did.. but..-

“Well, it's fine throughout the day, but.. after midnight maybe..-”

“Sorry,” Jun immediately bowed, “We'll be more considerate from now on.”

“No, no, no, don't be formal with me, please,” you laughed and shook your head, “It's all good, really. I just thought I’d let you know.”

Before it could get awkward, your friend 'came to the rescue' – as she later called it – by opening the door again and saying: “What are you doing out there? The food's getting cold.”

And as you walked back inside your apartment, smiling at the three one last time, Donghun shoved his hands inside the pockets of his pants and grinned.

“So.. I’m going to say it first.. she’s super gorgeous.”

The other two boys just chuckled, shoving their fellow member back inside their own four walls.

That was the night you first met A.C.E.. without even knowing that they were A.C.E.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry,” you quickly rushed to the table all your friends were already waiting at, “I overslept.”

“Yeah, we already heard about the handsome, noisy neighbors that are the cause of your messed up sleep schedule,” a friend of yours laughed, “We assumed they were the reason.”

“Or maybe one of them decided to personally introduce himself to you last night?” another one said, making all of them giggle.

You just shook your head, but with a smile, “I worked late last night and.. well, it is true, they were being pretty loud again, so it was kind of hard to fall asleep at first.. but I think one of them is a vocalist. He has.. such a beautiful voice. It lulled me to sleep in the end.”

“How many did you say there were again?”

“Five. I met all of them at this point.. very nice guys, actually. And from what I can hear, really talented. They should be stars in my opinion.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, “Did you ever consider that they might be an idol group? And that maybe.. they’re already part of the industry?”

For some reason, none of them, not even you, thought about that before.

Why?

Because making it in the kpop industry was fucking hard.

“Oh my god, you're living in one of the nicest areas in Seoul! She's right, they could be idols!”

And then they all suddenly started talking over the other, bombarding you with both questions, as well as theories of who they could be and all you could do was stare and.. get confused by it all.

Until you interrupted them.

“Guys,” you put up your hands, “I'm glad you're all so interested in my neighbors, but I don't know anything about them except for their names and that they like to order take-away at night. If they’re an idol group, I unfortunately don’t know who they are.”

For a moment they just looked at you.. and then they continued, completely ignoring what you just said.

You weren’t able to answer deeply personal questions, because, again, you barely knew the guys.

At one point your head just fell back against the wall behind you, closing your eyes as you let them talk and talk and talk..

What you thought would be a nice brunch date with your girlfriends ended up in them making conspiracy theories and you leaving early, alone, despite protests, because they all suddenly wanted to personally meet your new neighbors.

You were so ready for your bed, Netflix and not seeing or talking to anybody else today.

But of course that wasn't on the menu.

Of course you ran into the topic of today.

Or at least one of them.

“Oh, hey,” Byeongkwan entered the elevator one floor above the one you got on with a gym bag over his shoulder and a football under his arm.

“Oh.. you play?”

“Not as much as I'd like to,” he chuckled, “Don't have a lot of free time anymore.”

You were just about to reply when you got a message from one of your friends that you had met earlier. You were thinking about ignoring it at first, but then you saw a picture that made you look a little closer at the phone screen.

A picture that included the same man that was standing next to you right now, no doubt.

“Okay, I narrowed it down. There's only so many boy groups with only five members. Do you recognize any of them?”

“Holy shit,” your eyes widened.

Byeongkwan looked a little taken aback, you immediately apologizing, but then he just laughed.

“It's fine. Good news, I hope?”

Good news? Good news that you were – now confirmed – living next to an idol group? An active one? One that seemed to be doing kind of well, actually?

What kind of news even were that?

None that you were expecting, that's for sure.

Before Byeongkwan could peak, you quickly shoved your phone back into your pocket, bowed and then rushed out of the elevator and into your apartment with only a quick goodbye.

“Wasn’t that.. our neighbor?” Sehyoon furrowed his eyebrows, having just disposed of the trash, so he had seen you rush away from his band member without any context.

“She was fine a moment ago.. I don't know what happened,” the younger member shrugged.

“Maybe she imagined you naked and then realized it wasn't a nice thought,” Byeongkwan gently hit his members chest, both of them laughing as they walked back into their own apartment.

And while they were laughing, you were starting to panic, which you didn't want to because.. so what that you were living next to them? That shouldn't change anything, right? Why was that a big deal to you all of a sudden when you didn’t even know who they were five minutes ago?

Yeah, you could now say: 'I'm living next to idols', but that wouldn't be a good idea, or conversations like the one you had today with your girlfriends would be more frequent and you were not looking forward to that. Then people would start to get very nosy, would show up here not because of you, but because of them and you didn't want that.

This was their space, maybe the only place where they could feel normal, at home and fully safe.

No, you shouldn't do anything differently than before and you shouldn't feel any different towards them. You should treat them the same as before, should be as respectful as before and not let it show that you knew who they were..

They were people. Just like you.

But.. very talented people.

And you couldn’t help yourself but to turn on YouTube instead of Netflix tonight and look for their music.

And the moment the song started playing and you heard them sing, you smiled.. because you heard this before.. ever since you moved in, they’ve been singing this song.

They were working so hard, even in their free time, something that you could definitely confirm. But even if you weren’t living next to them and didn’t hear them practice all day long, it was clear from their dance videos and their performances.

They poured everything they had into their careers.

With a bit more digging, you found out that they maybe weren’t as big as some other artists or groups, but they still had a very loyal fanbase. And.. a really nice one from what you could see, that wasn’t always a given, unfortunately.

However, you never responded to your friend about what group it was. Whenever they’d ask, you’d answer that you didn’t know. Whenever they wanted to meet them, you said no.

Because there was no way you’d make them uncomfortable in any way, shape or form.

These boys were genuinely nice to you whenever you ran into them in the hallway, because you were nice and respectful towards them. These boys were practicing freely at home, because they knew nobody would record them and put it online. These boys were carefree here.. and you wouldn’t change that.

It was only a few months later that the topic of them being an idol group came up between you.

“Going to work?” you asked when you locked your door and saw all of them walking to the elevator.

“Yep. You too?”

“Yeah.. quite early, though, right?”

“We uh.. have a show tonight, actually,” Donghun was very careful with his words, but his members smiled encouragingly, “If you watch it.. cheer for us?”

And all you did was smile and reply: “Of course I will. You will do great.”

#a.c.e imagine #a.c.e x reader #a.c.e scenario #ace x reader #ace imagine #ace scenario #ace #a.c.e #adventure calling emotions #kpop imagine #reader #mine

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pendragonfics · 5 years ago

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living with feelings pt.2

Paring: Caleb Widogast/Reader

Tags: gender-neutral reader, gender-neutral pronouns, alternate universe - canon divergence, canon-typical violence, Caleb Widogast needs a hug, Caleb Widogast deserves nice things, light angst, soft, Nott is a Parent, developing relationships.

Summary: Along the road toward the swamp, Reader is swamped with questions from Nott, and themselves.

Word Count: 1,910

Current Date: 2019-01-06

Requested By: anon x

When you wake up, you find you’re curled into the warm side of Caleb. It’s a strange thing, because you swear that you fell asleep before him, away from him. However, a small part of you is wistful. Happy. The wizard man is snoring ever so slightly, his chapped lips left partly open, the stray hairs of his beard curling in the bristling cold of the morning.

But there’s shame in you, and it’s overpowering. You’re filled with regret and other ugly feelings in the lower portion of your belly.

Caleb said kind words, lovely words to you. Words that made your heartbeat faster. But you don’t deserve those words. They are alien to you. You’ve never had them before, and now you have them, it feels strange to receive. If you were a more affectionate person, you would have shown him, but alas, you are not, and now, you’re feeling almost sick in the storm of giddiness of your feelings for him.

Quietly, you sit up.

After the weather the night previous, it’s strange to perceive life going on afterwards. It felt so earth-shattering; perhaps it was because you had never spent a night in the elements. You certainly don’t remember at all in your life seeing a storm like that before. It was frightening, fantastic; you were glad for what magic that Caleb cast for keeping you safe and dry.

You stop feeling guilty for sleeping beside Caleb as you see the rest of the Nein’s sleeping arrangements. Nott is tied in a knot by Yasha’s ankles, a knife in little green hands, Jester lays between Yasha and Beau with her arms and legs askew, and Beau and Fjord are a tangle of limbs all over one another like puppies. You’re not sure if you’re seeing it right, but Molly’s head of horns are precariously close to Fjord’s ass.

As you move to stand, you feel a hand around your wrist, and you jerk away, heart racing. A fear races inside of you, and almost like there’s something inside of you, you feel a warmth take residence under your palms, beneath your fingernails. It fades as you realise who is holding your wrist.

Caleb’s eyes are hooded, perhaps barely awake in a way in which wrenches your heart. For a moment, you had been back in the rear room of the bakery in Zadash, your stepfather’s hands wrapped around your body, leaving nasty marks. But you fled him, and it’s just Caleb. Sleepy, soft, guarded and confusing Caleb.

“Geh nicht,” he said in Zemnian. Don’t go.

But you do.

Caleb closes his eyes softly, his grasp relaxing. He says your name, and a string of words you don’t understand in your mother tongue. But in the moment of your silence, Caleb has fallen once again to sleep, his grasp loose on you. And like the coward you are, you leave his side while the eyes of the Nein are closed, and adrift in dreams.

---

Later in the day, you find yourself perched beside Molly as he steers the cart. It’s your turn taking watch alongside him, and it’s quieter. Yasha walked ahead, her sword strapped to her rippling shoulders, glinting in the rising sun. Behind her, rode Fjord, and Beau, bickering about something you couldn’t quite hear about. Jester napped behind you, her hand on her amulet, and horse hitched alongside the others pulling the cart.

“Hey, um, ________, can I speak with you?”

You had almost forgotten that Nott was with Jester, and in the moment, you felt yourself afraid, for more than just being surprised. The other day’s attack came flooding back, and looking at Nott, the goblin girl, all you could see was the goblin you had chased down. That you had killed.

“You startled me,” you placed a hand over your chest, to persuade your heart from racing. “Sorry. Of course; what do you want to talk about?”

She eyed Mollymauk, looking him up and down, and said, “Something he doesn’t need to hear. Go on, Molly. Get. Go talk to Fjord about being a bad roommate or something.”

“Nott, you sweet talker, you sure know the way to charm a tiefling’s heart,” he replied, his tone ironic, but face as sweet as a sugared roll. “________, take the wheel.”

Confused at his terminology, you took the reigns as he made leave, and Nott scrambled from the rear of the cart to where she sat. Steeling yourself as the driver, you lead the horses on, hoping what Nott would say wouldn’t make for too strange a conversation.

“I…” Nott began. She hung her head, bandages falling forward. “I need to apologise for the other night. I could have taken on that goblin, and knew you weren’t a fighter, and yet, it got away, and…”

You placed a hand atop her little green one, looking to her. “You don’t need to apologise for anything. What happened…it happened. I must have been a swordfighter in a past life, just like you must have been a caregiver.” You’re not sure if she flinched, or if your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you add, softly, “Besides, I did what anyone would do. I saw it almost took your collection of sticks.”

“I do like my sticks,” Nott replied. But softly, she spoke once more. “I have to ask, and I don’t mean to pry, but…”

“I suppose I’m one of you guys now,” you re-joined, “so ask away.”

She looked behind you, behind the cart, and briefly, you looked back too. Trailing the cart like a bottle tied to a cart after a wedding, rode Caleb. He looked to be deep in thought, his mind somewhere else from where his body was. Righting the cart around a stone in the road, you looked back to Nott, unsure of what she was implying.

After a moment with no words shared, she screwed up her nose, and shouted, in a hushed tone, “Well? What are your intentions with my son?”

You blinked. “Your son? I - I’m sorry, I thought -,”

“I’m not his mother in that sense,” she answered, and quickly added on, “but the other sense like Beau and Fjord are basically brother and sister, and Yasha is basically the only one out of us all who has a functioning moral compass. But,” she paused, looking to you intently, “Caleb is my boy, and I am asking you about your intentions toward him.”

“I…I think he’s a fine man?” you replied, unsure.

“Just fine? Look at him, he’s hot!”

“Yes, he is attractive. And I think he’s quite lovely too, once you get to know him.” You added.

“So…you like him?” she interrogated.

“I like him as much as I like you, and the rest of the Nein,” you answered. The way she looked at you after what you said made you feel unsure of the word. Where she came from, was there another meaning to that term? “I mean, he’s handsome, under all the dirt, and we speak the same language, and if it weren’t for him I’m sure I’d still be in Zadash.” You say, wistful. “…and he acts like he doesn’t care, but I know he does care because he showed me.”

“So! You like-like him,” Nott beamed, leaning toward you. “Well, I know for a fact that he is available -,”

“Nott, wait,” you ask her, bewildered. “Are you trying to match us together?”

“Of course! You seem as fine a person as any. And he needs to focus on something other than his studies, you know what they say about someone who’s all work, no play, am I right? And I see how he looks at you -,”

“Nott,” you placed a hand on hers once more, pausing her. “I have something to tell you.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re not interested! Or want him at all, after all of this! You’re my last hope to get him a good person in his life, well, second-last, if Fjord opened his eyes and realised what a catch Caleb is!”

“Nott!” you say once more, a little louder. “I’m already…I kissed him last night.”

“You WHAT?”

---

Last-minute, it’s decided to make camp one more night before the Nein are to make it to the swamp. It’s a strange destination, but when you overhear Jester speaking to Fjord about The Gentleman you have enough wits to not question anything. It’s a clear night, and it seems that everyone is making their beds on the ground as usual. But you go for the cart once more, making a sort of nest out of what you can.

“Knock, knock,” he says, without raising a knuckle to the side of the cart.

His accent is thick tonight, and you feel your heart grow warm beneath your skin in his presence. Looking over, you see Caleb. His face is cleaner tonight, and it seems with every passing day, his beard grows thicker and thicker, as dishevelled as the ginger hair upon his head. He places his hands on the edge of the cart, looking to you.

“Come in,” you reply, scooting backwards. He joins you, groaning as his joins click as he sits beside you. “…you need to stretch, before and after the riding, and then it won’t pain you.”

“Oh, you have learnt so much since joining us, meine liebe,” he praises, but you know that he’s teasing you. “What else does your, er, multitudinous wisdom hold?”

You chuckle, resting your head upon his shoulder. “I know that Nott was ready to sell you off to me like jewellery in the Pentemarket,” you retort. “…she tried to match you with me.”

“She’s a little late on that,” he replies, his arm making its way across your shoulders. “…I feel as if Nott thinks herself as my mother.”

It feels strange being touched, but after everything, you ignore that feeling and welcome it. After all the shit that you were forced to wade in, you deserved to bathe yourself. You deserve to be loved and to love in return.

“She does indeed,” you snuggle in, speaking into his jacket. It needs to be cleaned, but amongst all the other smells, the scent is overpoweringly Caleb, and you relish it. “…and I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day.”

“Wasn’t it yesterday?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t keep track of time like you,” you shrug. “…whatever you have done, in your past, that is it. It’s passed. You are not your actions, especially if you regret them. My mother, my birth mother, she told me that as long as you know what is right, and do by it even after doing wrong, eventually, you will be absolved.”

“________,” Caleb starts to say, but you keep on speaking.

“And I will forgive you. And I will love you for everything that you are. Because not only did you help me realise that I was strong, strong enough to leave my abusive stepfather, strong enough to kill a thief, but that I was strong enough to move past it all, and become the person I have wanted to be for so many years.”

“________, I can’t ask that of you,” he says, soft.

“Don’t ask it of me then,” you reply, your lips ghosting his, and you whisper, the words hot against your tongue as they are spoken, “Because I am giving my love freely.”

#caleb critical role #caleb widogast #caleb widogast x reader #caleb critical role x reader #critical role #critical role x reader #pendragonfics #chaotic--lovely #gender neutral reader

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nothingeverlost · 5 years ago

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Fic: Fucking Amazing

Cablanca Week Day 4, Family.

A bit of Cablanaca with my new fave secondary pairing, Alice/Trooper Wagner. My first time playing with either of them.

“Marta! OMG this is fucking amazing. I can’t believe it.” Alice ran down the stairs as fast as she could, stopping only when she caught the expression on her mom’s face.

“Watch your language, Alice. We have guests.” Their guests were all cops, at least sort of, which would have made her mother nervous only a few weeks ago but they had a lawyer now, and her mom’s paperwork was all taken care of. It was amazing what enough money could accomplish.

“Sorry mom. This is huge, though. Huge.” She ran down the last couple of steps to where her sister was trying to not look like she was looking at Benoit Blanc. If she wasn’t so focused on her news she might have left them alone; her sister really liked the guy and was, as usual, being way too subtle about it. Alice didn’t do subtle.

“What is fucking amazing?” Marta asked, getting a glare from their mother but an amused smile from Blanc. Alice might like the guy for more than just making her big sister feel all flustered.

“Chris Hemsworth wants to do a movie with you. His people e-mailed you and I didn’t know if it was legit or not but I checked and it’s the real thing. He read Nick of Time and he really wants to be in the movie.” She’d appointed herself as her sister’s personal assistant, taking over the e-mails that piled up way too fast once the news of the inheritance hit. Anything related to the publishing company was her favorite thing to deal with, but nothing had been as cool as this.

“Is he the one in that Captain USA movie?” Marta wrinkled her nose; she’d never shown much interest in superhero movies, but had found Captain America to be her least favorite. Alice was pretty sure she messed up the name on purpose.

“He’s the one that plays Thor. And he was the secretary dude in the Ghostbuster movie; you liked that one.”

“Is it wrong to want Natalie Portman to play Bethany in the movie? Because that whole Jane and Thor relationship was just ignored after the first couple of movies and it would be so great to see them get a happy ending even if it’s different characters.” Alice hadn’t paid much attention to the two cops her mom had insisted on inviting to dinner as a weird sort of thank you, but the younger one was suddenly more interesting.

“See, he gets it,” she said to her sister before turning around. “I like you. You can sit next to me at dinner. I want to hear your thoughts on Bethany’s brother. We need someone who has that whole innocent vibe but can also pull off menacing.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for movies. Harlan was so against them.” Marta tugged at her necklace and Alice signed; it wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation.

“I would imagine that after creating the characters and the stories Harlan had a very clear image of how he saw them, and no movie would make him happy. That was what was right for him. He left his legacy in your hand, though, because he trusted you. I believe you will find the right way to honor his legacy in a way that’s right for you. You can’t keep everything the same. It’s like the changes you’ve already made to this house, which is a great deal more welcoming than it was the first time I was here. The fact that there’s no longer a wall of knives helps.” Blanc might look casual to most people, with his hands in his pockets and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. Alice bet people underestimate him all the time, just based on the accent alone. But his eyes were a different story entirely. No one had ever looked at her with the intensity that he was looking at her sister. Alice would bet anything that they’d be seeing the detective at the breakfast table on a not too distant morning.

“I will think about it.” Marta looked at her southern soon-to-be-boyfriend (at least he would be if Alice had anything to do with it.) It took her a moment to answer. It took her less time to turn to Alice. “This isn’t a yes. Don’t make any plans.”

“A girl can dream, can’t she?” Alice grinned, knowing that she was at least a step closer to getting to send off an e-mail that just might lead to meeting Chris Hemsworth. It would be fucking awesome. She turned back to her fellow Thor/Jane shipped. “My new friend and I are going to go find a couple of beers and talk about some not plans.”

“Don’t embarrass the department, Wagner,” the other cop commented benignly.

“So Wagner, huh? Can I call you Wag?” As they walked towards the kitchen Alice was amused to see a slight blush.

“It’s Kurt. Kurt Wagner, but I’d rather you called me Kurt.”

“Well if I’m going to call you, Kurt, you better make sure I have your number before you leave tonight.” He was kind of cute, and since she didn’t have to worry about immigration anymore she could deal with the fact that he was a cop. Who would have thought that her sister almost being arrested for murder could improve her life so much?

#cablanca week #cablanca fic #my fic #cablanca #benoit x marta #marta cabrera #alice cabrera #trooper wagner #what did we call this ship?

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sparklyjojos · 4 years ago

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CARNIVAL DAY recaps [10/13]

Today’s recap: Finally some explanations, or: the R language, bulls and deers and horses, and everything’s connected.

FIFTY-ONE

26 Jul 1997 — 01 Aug 1997

LABYRINTH

(Amagi Hyouma was one of RISE’s guests along with Ryuuguu Otohime, Tsukumo Nemu, Christmas Mizuno, Yaiba Somahito, Diana Hosey, Hanto Maimu & Kuraimu. During their time in the Sanctuary, they learned the identities of the Rainbow Sophists.

Below is Amagi Hyouma’s testimony. [Originally in first person.])

Hyouma had never seen this Fabian woman before, but she seemed to believe (or convincingly pretended to believe) that he was Yemon. She claimed she didn’t know any Yakuma Suzume.

Well, it was true that Yakuma hadn’t shown himself since that day when Hyouma had been taken to the Sanctuary. White even said Yakuma was “no longer here”.

Hyouma pointed out how weird it was that only JDC-related people were chosen to be RISE’s guests. Fabian answered that they didn’t need anyone else; JDC was important, even more so considering the Billion Killer had chosen them for his first attack. Japan would play a great role in the events too, especially the Japanese language. R language had a very similar base to Japanese, but was much more fluid and freestyle, resembling the kind of language young people in Japan spoke these days. Basically, Fabian claimed that Hyouma had been already unknowingly using R language.

Just like Japanese words are often written and pronounced in many different ways, R language also has “the rule of no rules”. For example, the tower of the Moonbow Palace is called Tow Dreamer, a mix of English-like words “tower” and “dreamer”. However, this name is written 夢幻想塔, which would normally be read mugensoutou. The kanji convey “a tower where one can dream”, and mugensoutou also points to the infinitude (mugen written 無限) of their fuhrer (soutou written 総統).

...which sounded horribly farfetched to Hyouma. Was this entire R language just puns? Fabian claimed that it conveyed the entire history of humanity, and using it—seeing the meaning hidden in Japanese words—could help uncovering the world’s secrets.

At least they got an explanation for why all the guests were young adults from Japan [Yaiba is like forty, but I guess he still counts]. Diana Hosey came from the USA, but she had been secretly taught R language by her father Theodore, who always told her it was just Japanese.

Done with their conversations with the Sophists, all the guests returned to the round table and talked about what they had learned.

Since the Rainbow Sophists had been wearing masks and acting like the S-detectives all the time, none of them knew the true identities of the others before (only RS and the Master had known). This round table talk was the first time they learned about who their fellow executives were.

Yellow Bishop turned out not to be Ajiro after all. But then where was Ajiro? He’d been missing ever since the explosion. Hanto Maimu got that strange phone call allegedly from Ajiro, but it was just Tanna Sazen using his voice mimicry. Tanna would sometimes pretend to be White, and other times share a single role of Yellow Bishop with Theodore Hosey. (There was a bit of chaos when Tanna was chased off a cliff that one time, but he knew how to survive the fall, and then he simply cancelled the pursuit by calling the pursuers as Yellow Bishop.) Tanna hadn’t anticipated his child would inherit his knowledge, so RISE investigated the Hantos just in case.

Everyone wanted to know where Ajiro was (Hyouma especially). Yaiba had come up with a theory almost by accident. Back when he had been in Russia, the boy Amano noticed the number on the train engine was 999, which was 666 upside down. Inspired by this, Yaiba thought of the word Russia (Ro-shi-a), also turned it around, and it became A-shi-ro… Ajiro. Maybe Ajiro and Russia were connected? This would be just a ridiculous wordplay in any other situation, but Hyouma couldn’t laugh it off now that he’d been told about R language.

Seeing that the detectives wouldn’t leave the topic alone, Black said they would have a chance to see Ajiro soon.

Indeed, when they met by the round table some time afterwards (with Black, Red, and the real White also present), Ajiro was there and alive. However, he was seated in a wheelchair, unmoving and unresponsive, his eyes completely unfocused, like an empty shell of a person. White explained that they had been keeping him locked on the Russian space station Mir. No proper astronaut training and long-term isolation resulted in this sorry state. White claimed they had had no choice but to keep Ajiro in space, just like they had to drag Christmas through hell, and that it was all for the future of humanity.

It wasn’t impossible for Ajiro to return to his former self, but it would require everyone’s help. Maybe his friends would manage to break through the mental wall that kept him isolated from the outside world, and Ajiro would go back to being the JDC representative they know and love.

And speaking of JDC… White casually informed them that JDC had been created by RISE. Not directly created, mind you—that was Ajiro’s doing—but RISE had pulled all the necessary strings to cause the events to run like they wanted.

The Ajiro Family Murder Case, the Saimon Family Murder Case, the Geneijo Murder Case and the Locked Room Lord Murder Case, the bombing of JDC—all of them had more meaning than the detectives suspected.

If they wanted to know more, they should get around to bringing Ajiro back to his former glory.

No matter how much they talked to Ajiro, he wouldn’t respond, but they never gave up. They recounted their times together at JDC, both joyful and sad. They all stayed in the same room with him as long as they could, then established shifts.

Two weeks passed and nothing changed. They even got a pack of Ajiro’s favorite cigars and put it in his lap, but he still didn’t react.

At the end of a shift, Yaiba left the room to call the next pair, leaving Hyouma alone with Ajiro. Though Hyouma had stopped smoking a few years ago, in this depressing situation he decided to help himself to a cigar, which mostly resulted in a fit of coughing. Then he noticed something—tears were running down Ajiro’s cheeks. Unsure of whether or not this was just an instinctual reaction to smoke, Hyouma experimented some more, until Yaiba came back with Otohime and Nemu and yelled at him for tormenting the patient with smoke—but then Ajiro just slightly moved his finger. After a short time of Hyouma desperately calling his name, Ajiro slowly moved his hand, then wiped his own tears.

“...don’t have to be so loud…” he murmured. “...I can hear you…”

Ajiro’s mind was back in working order in a few days more, but he still had to undergo two weeks of physical rehabilitation. He told everyone that he’d been able to hear everything they said to him even when he couldn’t respond, and he promised to do his best to help them solve all the mysteries around.

At the beginning of June, they all sat at the round table: Ajiro, Hyouma, Yaiba, Nemu, Otohime, Maimu with Kuraimu, Diana, Christmas, and also Black, White and Red. With Ajiro around, it felt strangely like yet another meeting at JDC.

Ajiro recalled the day of the JDC explosion. He clearly remembered sitting at his desk, his assistant Mito Muramasa working nearby. Then came a rumble and vibrations like an earthquake—and then Ajiro was suddenly floating in a small room in outer space. He did consider the possibility that he’d been rendered unconscious by the explosion and then transported to space, but it seemed to him like there had been no lapse in his consciousness. He really was just instantly transported from Kyoto to the space station. But how?

White only replied that there was a lot the guests didn’t know about the world. When people saw something they couldn’t understand, they would often give up on thinking and just believe in transcendent beings.

White tried to move to the topic of Beasts and Gods (or rather, those two groups and a third type that is neither), but he could see that Ajiro was more interested in how much influence RISE had on JDC, so Beasts and Gods would have to wait.

Ajiro could see how RISE could have been the masterminds behind Geneijo and the Locked Room Lord. But what could they gain from the family cases of the Ajiros and the Saimons? It’s true that his own family’s case had inspired him to create Nihon Tantei Club. It was also the first time he came in contact with Saimon Ryuusui, which would lead to getting involved in solving the Saimon murders.

White added that after that case, Nihon Tantei Club was renamed to JDC. Both the organization and Ajiro became famous as the ones who solved “the crime revolution” that was the Saimon Family Murder Case. Basically, had that case not happened, JDC would need much more time to become well-known.

All those great cases also led to Tsukumo Juku becoming famous and revered. The one who contributed to solving the Saimon Family Murder Case! The one who solved both Geneijo and the Locked Room Lord! Propelled by the trust and popularity given to JDC and Ajiro, Tsukumo Juku quickly gathered recognition as the God of Detectives.

And that was exactly what RISE wanted. They needed to raise Tsukumo Juku to become the world’s greatest detective so he could stop the Crime Olympics. That was RISE’s end goal, after all—it’s not them who wanted to kill everyone, but “the union of 666 worst evils”, Akuren.

(This was the first time the detectives heard the name Akuren, so Black Rook explained more about it—see Black Rook’s testimony from earlier.)

Way back when, RISE realized that Akuren was about to attempt the destruction of humanity once more. RISE got their hands on the Crime Olympics plan so they could hopefully mitigate the impact. Back then, the plan was a bit different; the Crime Olympics were supposed to start in July 1999 and last seven months, resulting in the human race being wiped out by February 2000. The Crime Olympics were eventually moved to three years earlier.

In order for RISE’s own plans to work, they had to keep Akuren’s trust, and so had no choice but to really prepare the Crime Olympics using their trump cards of Alive, the Billion Killer, and the Cosmic Bomb. Thankfully, Akuren didn’t plan on killing everyone instantly—they wanted to drown humanity in evil and despair first—and they determined a time limit before the Cosmic Bomb would drop.

Akuren wanted to make sure everything would go smoothly, so they sent one of them to oversee RISE’s actions—a man with the code name Tsukumo Jaki. He was actually White’s younger brother, Endou Masato. The detectives may have known him as their fellow Yakuma Suzume (actually an imposter).

Christmas wondered whether that minotaur “Great King Enma” he had met wasn’t also this fake Yakuma. According to legends, if you lied to Lord Enma, he would cut off your tongue. This could be connected through a wordplay to the Tongue-cut Sparrow, Shita-kiri Suzume, the same folk tale that Juku had used to guess that Jaki was Yakuma Suzume. Also, the first kanji of the name Yakuma (役間) could be read as en, making the entire name Enma. (Again, this seemed like just another strange wordplay, but knowing all that stuff about R Language…)

What about the horse mask man and the deer mask man that had assisted Enma? Otohime recalled that the short story Another Joker had a horse and a deer in it. That was specifically a man-eating horse, so maybe it was a hint about all the cannibalism in Shangri-La.

Lemuria admitted he’d been the one wearing the deer mask. He stated he was actually Jaki’s loyal underling, and it had been on Jaki’s orders that he first entered RISE and became Red Knight. The horse mask man who cooperated closely with him and Jaki was someone the detectives didn’t know. He had stayed behind and died in Shangri-La, as his role in the plan had ended—just like the horse in Another Joker, he ended up reduced to a pile of bones.

All those animal masks… Why would Minase Nagisa wear a bull mask when she killed Juku? Sullivan explained that the mask was the symbol of RISE’s leader, something they had inherited from the organization before them. Similarly, RISE’s second and third in charge were a deer and a horse. The bull mask symbolized that the wearer’s actions were done in the name of RISE’s leader. Nagisa was chosen to kill Juku because of her hatred for the man and her familiarity with the terrain around Gensoukan, and though she died from Alive in the process, she managed to fulfill her mission. Jaki’s true goal in killing Juku was stopping RISE’s secret plans—preventing the God of Detectives from ending the Crime Olympics early.

But why would Nagisa hate Juku so much? Black explained that when Juku had solved the Locked Room Lord case, Nagisa’s brother Dakushoin Ryuusui’s name was irreparably tarnished. Juku even personally confronted Nagisa afterwards and stopped her from hiding critical evidence. Cosmic and Joker further hurt Dakushoin’s reputation. With all that frustration already present in Nagisa, Jaki just had to redirect it all towards Juku.

But there was another reason why Nagisa wanted to kill Juku, the same reason why Fuumonji Jouka was killed, and it would be protecting someone’s (the third writer’s) true identity—but that would be explained later.

Ajiro noticed that something didn’t seem right. If Lemuria Sullivan really was working together with Jaki, that is with Akuren, then why were Black and White casually discussing RISE’s plans right in front of him? White admitted that no matter how stealthy RISE tried to be, Akuren still managed to know their every step, so there was really no point in hiding their true goal anymore. Both groups knew the other was ultimately an enemy, but RISE was still useful. After all, it’d be hard for Akuren to achieve their goal without the Cosmic Bomb.

Ajiro stated that it all seemed to have a single point of origin to him, though he didn’t yet know what it was exactly. RISE, the Sanctuary, the Billion Killer cases, Alive, the Cosmic Bomb, Beasts and Gods… White only responded that they would learn everything later. For now, they would make a short stop in the Moonbow Palace, and then the detectives would be taken to Heaven / El Dorado in the depths of the Mariana Trench.

With this, the meeting concluded. When Hyouma saw the news afterwards, he learned that Yuiga Dokuson had disappeared after leaving a strange message that he was the Billion Killer. However, Black said that Dokuson’s actions had nothing to do with RISE, and that it was still too early to talk about the actual Billion Killer.

(And in the latest news…)

...the number of Alive victims have been falling since New Years and finally reached zero in July. It’s estimated that 240 million people died from Alive, making it the worst pandemic to date. WHO and CDC announce the end of Alive, but warn that it can possibly come back. It’s still unknown how the number of infections diminished so rapidly without a vaccine in place.

[>>>NEXT PART>>>]

#sparkly reads carnival day #maijo and jdc stuff #the plot thickens!

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cleverbreawisekylan · 5 years ago

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Brea x Kylan Helping hearts

Set in 1 x 09 after Tavra has died. Brea is in need of some comforting and who else to help her but our very own broth boy. These two make me heart want to explode. I just love them so much and hope we get a season 2 so I can continue shipping them hard.

Brea sits quietly by the dwindling fire, eyes staring at the once again orange flames. The night closes in, bringing with it a swift chill, but she struggles to feel the cold herself. She is too consumed with her own thoughts, fighting to cope with her recent losses. Mother . . . Tavra, even Mother Aughra had sacrificed herself for her and the other gelflings.

How many more sacrifices must they make?

A lump begins to rise in her throat, tears teetering on the edge. Brea is surprised that there are any left – she had cried the entire time that the gelfing had returned Tavra to Thra, tears flowing freely for her sister. She haphazardly wipes at her cheek as they begin to flow.

“Are you okay?”

Her head snaps to the side to see Kylan lowering himself to sit beside her. In his hand he carries a bowl of broth, steam rising gently from its surface.

“Kylan.” She says in surprise. Once again, she wipes at her teary face. “I’m fine.”

He looks back to her unconvinced.

“Okay,” Brea admits, “I’m . . . it’s been a trying few days. I think it’s all catching up on me.”

“It has,” he nods, looking off into the distance at the setting suns. His eyes reflect the pink and grey hues of the sky, and in that moment she thinks that he truly looks like the wise Kylan that Mother Aughra had introduced in the dream space. “I saw you with your sister,” he confesses, voice soft, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She purses her lips, face twisting with sadness. “I had just got her back.” He tilts his head, curiously. “I thought even if we had lost mother, the three of us would be together again.” Her eyes hover over the sleeping silhouette of Seladon. “The skeksis have taken so much from us.” From me.

“You must remain strong, Brea.” Her ears prick up at the way he speaks her name, kind and soft and . . . nice. “Loss is never easy, but you will learn to live with it. And you will always carry their spirit with you.”

“You speak as though you have experienced loss yourself,” she observes, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“I lost my parents to a skeksis. It was a burden I had to carry with me from a very young age.”

A small gasp leaves her lips, Brea turning to face Kylan even more. “A skeksis?”

“One that they call The Hunter.” He nods glumly. “My parents and I lived on the edge of the Dark Wood . . . we were outcasts because my parents were from opposing clans.” He sighs, “And there was no help when he murdered them. Even when I tried to tell the truth, no one would believe me. Even today, the gelfling of Sami Thicket would not listen. They won’t see the skeksis for what they truly are out of fear.”

She regards him with shock but also admiration. Wise, Mother Aughra had called him. Wise he may be, but also courageous, honest. Brea is glad to have Kylan amongst them in the resistance. “They will listen,” she insists, voice assured. “And we will defeat the skeksis. For your parents, for mother and Tavra . . . for Thra.”

He nods in hopeful agreement, before the conversation lulls into a comfortable silence. Her heart still heavy with sadness yet Kylan’s presence does seem to keep the tears at bay. While he casts his gaze toward the fire, she observes the Spriton with curiosity. Her amber eyes travel from his jet black hair, streak with soft green to the firca tied neatly against his belt. She smiles as she thinks back to his song, a sweet gesture in her time of need and oh, how beautiful it had sounded. A memory she doesn’t want to forget, so much so that she had stayed up late into the eve drawing it in her journal.

Brea reaches into her sleeve to retrieve it, feeling it may cheer her up to recount the scene. Her heart drops in horror when she realises there is no journal to be found. Instead, just her dirtied clothes. “Wha – I . . . oh!” She frantically feels the entirety of her garments, sure that it must be somewhere, yet comes up empty handed. “My journal!” Brea exclaims in upset.

Kylan jumps at her sudden outburst, eyes widening before he turns to her with a frown. “Brea?”

“I can’t find my journal.” She announces, body deflating and ears flattening above her head. It suddenly feels as though another piece of her is lost among the wilderness of Thra, with no hopes of finding it.

He doesn’t discard her upset like Seladon would. It’s only a journal, she would say. Kylan exudes understanding, asking her gently. “Was it important to you?”

“It was a gift from my grandmother.” She sighs, frustrated at the tears bubbling up once more, “and it’s where I wrote everything I learned. I can’t believe it’s gone.” Brea swallows thickly, thinking to all that lost knowledge. Wracking her brains, she tries to think of the last time she had it, and vaguely remembers it before she had been taken by a hunter. With a wistful sigh, she realises it must be lost somewhere amongst the sands of the crystal desert.

He watches her sadly, before his eyes brighten and his mouth opens with a little, “ah.”

Turning her head, Brea watches the Spriton with narrowed eyes as he rummages through the pockets of his clothes, eventually pulling out a small object. The small book is wrapped in a silk cloth, a small piece of rope holding it closed. He looks between the book and then her before gently outstretching his hand.

“Take this instead – I know it’s not the same, but it’ll give you somewhere to put your story.”

Taken aback by his generosity, she hesitates. “Kylan . . . I couldn’t. It belongs to you.”

“I use them to write songs in. I can get plenty more. Besides, I want you to have this.”

The tips of her ears turn pink first, her cheeks following despite herself. She smiles and accepts the gift before his words truly sink in. “Wait, you can write?” she asks giddily, practically bouncing in her seat. Very rarely does she meet a gelfling who shares her interest in the written language.

He nods.

“I learned many trine ago while my peers put their skills into battle. I am shockingly bad at throwing a bola, but words are easy.”

She regards him with a smile then, growing steadily as she imagines the gentle Spriton attempting to fit in with his clan.

“Not that there are many books owned by my clan. I’m afraid there was little to read about other than farming and cooking. Still,” he continues with a burst of pride, “reading is how I learned to make the best broth this side of the dark wood!” He suddenly looks down to the forgotten bowl in his hands. “Oh . . . I did bring this for you. I noticed you didn’t eat much earlier and thought you might be hungry – but it might be a little cold.” His nervous chuckle fills the air like a melody.

“Thank you.” Her voice is kind, “for the book too. It’s lovely.”

He smiles, giving a curt nod. “I hope it serves you well, Brea.” There is it again, the way her name falls ever so softly off her lips. It sends a shiver down her spine. She watches as he stands, stepping back toward the pot he had been tending to for a good while earlier before she calls out his name. Kylan turns. “Yes?”

“”Maybe when all this is over and the skeksis are defeated, I could show you the library at Ha’rar? There are hundreds of books, about every topic! I’m sure we could even find some on song telling.” She can hear her own eagerness slipping through and struggles to rein it back in.

Kylan doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, his eyes widen in delight. “That would be wonderful,” he says. “I’ll hold you to that.”

She finds herself watching him walk away until he is on the other side of the camp. Her smile widens as he begins playing tunes in earnest, the sounds melodic and soothing. Feeling newly invigorated, she eats the luke warm soup before focusing her attention to the book he’d given her. Although of humble origin, it is finely crafted by someone with skill and she wonders if Kylan had made it himself.

Flicking through the pages, she admires the idea of a fresh start and knows just how to begin the story. Brea pulls out her pencil and begins sketching the wise Spriton boy who has shown her that kindness can go a long way.

#dark crystal age of resistance #brea #kylan #brea x kylan #fanfic #i would die for these two #dark crystal

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lallemcnt · 5 years ago

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but all i see is him right now — 2.8k (ao3)

let's call this eliott and lucas hanging out in an unknown location, in an unknown setting, in an unknown time; lucas' head is muddled by thoughts of how much he wants eliott.

or, the one where lucas sighs dramatically (several times) and they talk about soulmates.

if he closes his eyes, and just .... thinks back on tender hours of hands brushing and cheeks flushing and red lips and warm breath, he —

“where are you?”

lucas squints his eyes open against the afternoon sun, blinking rapidly, and, perhaps, frowning because the person before him let’s out a light laugh, their silhouette changing from pure light to brown, fluffy hair, indiscernible grey-green-blue eyes and pink lips spread in a teasing smile: “you did it again.”

eliott is sitting there, smiling in all his breathtaking glory, staring directly at lucas who, in turn, grows warm in the cheeks and looks down at his hands. he did it again — the daydreaming seemed a prerequisite to hanging out with eliott recently. in lucas’ case, anyway. recently, he thinks, they haven’t even known each other that long.

“i should put that on my resume: interesting enough to bore lucas lallemant out of his intelligent mind.”

that’s because i spend every single minute of every day thinking about you, making up stupid fantasy scenarios about us; being in your company makes my brain overload, but lucas can’t say that. so, he narrows his eyes and kicks out a leg against eliott’s ankle, because he’s an emotionally mature adult who knows how to respond to digs no matter how lighthearted they are. eliott responds by grabbing lucas’ ankle and squeezing it. lucas tries to kick his leg out of eliott’s grasp, but soon stops — he’s tired and there’s no heart in it — lets out a dramatic sigh before lying down on his back and looking up at the sky.

seconds later he feels light fingers on the bare skin of his ankle where his jeans must have ridden up, his leg jerks in response to the soft touches, the fingers stop and when he relaxes once more, they pick up again.

no words are uttered, contrary to the rush of thoughts that consume lucas’ mind as eliott tattooes lucas’s ankle with his soft, calloused finger tips. the thing is, lucas has never had a friend quite tactile as eliott. someone who hugged everyone he met; he would hang his arm around your neck in a group circle; instead of pointing out you had something on your shirt he’d pick it off himself or take a piece of fluff out of someone’s hair. lucas couldn’t name the number of times he and eliott’s hands would brush when they walked side by side after school, but lucas always put it up to eliott and his cuddly demeanour. he was, by nature, a soft dude. his presence was magnetising; to be at the centre of that attention that everyone, whether they knew him well or not, craved, was sublime. so lucas didn’t question that moment, where others would see it as something more, he knew it wasn’t, and yet against all reason and logic he couldn’t quite help himself, knowing what would follow, he still let himself dream it was. it hurt when he thought about it too much which was all the time, but soaking up eliott’s presence and being with him, even in only a platonic way, seemed to ease the pain, but when lucas was on his own that was a different matter. the nights when he couldn’t sleep because of his insomnia, he would lie there in bed and dream, he would pull back his yellow curtains, encouraging the moon spread her light, initiating thoughts of that drawing. the greek on the moon. lucas liked to think of the moon as selene; ever since he’d learned that greek name, and ever since he’d seen eliott’s drawing, that name seemed to give it a new life — they were both ruled by the moon, after all, being cancers and all.

“i was thinking about the moon.” lucas spoke, volunteering his thoughts for no other reason than he felt like it.

“what about her?” eliott’s interest was palpable, he even stopped tracing patterns on lucas’ calf. lucas yearns for the touch, almost to the point he forgets what he was speaking about, but not quite.

“about your self-portrait on the moon.” he glances at eliott who looks thoughtful, waiting for lucas to continue. “and i was thinking how would you draw me? what animal would i be?”

eliott’s silent for a few seconds, contemplative. then he says, “sit up for me.”

lucas complies, suddenly feeling nervous in that i’m-in-love-with-you-and-it’s-so-obvious way, believing that his eyes will give him away so he gives himself a second before meeting eliott’s eyes. eliott is sitting by his feet, considering lucas. he tilts his head and gets a faraway look in his eyes, picking up the beer resting beside him: “i’d have to think about it.”

okay, lucas thinks, okay.

eliott is fiddling with the label on his beer bottle, so lucas proceeds to lie back down and sigh once more. sometimes he thinks it’s not one sided — the feelings, that is. in the mornings after having drank too much at a party and inevitably retreating back to one of le gang’s homes, and walking home together at 11am because they live only a street away from each other in the opposite direction to the other three. in the mornings when it’s tipping towards a warm afternoon, but they’re both decked out in their jackets, messy hair and morning breath and slow gaits, wishing to be home but also wishing for just a second longer in the other’s company. maybe there’s a hand brush or two, a few glances out of the corner of the eye, playful shoving because can one really be around eliott without some kind of physical contact that somehow leads to slightly longer touches, followed by avoided glances and painful hearts and close tears. but as soon as he’s had a few eliott-less hours logic returns and reprimands lucas for being so naïve because no one ever loves the person who craves love due to severe abandonment issues. no one could ever love the boy who turns spiteful when he’s angry and spits out harsh words he doesn’t mean.

lucas feels himself getting agitated by his ceaseless negative, spiralling thoughts and so he ditches that train of thought to prevent the casualty he can see himself creating. he sits back up, tugs his knees to his chest, tilting the side of his head to rest on them. he glances at eliott who is already staring back at him.

“are you sure you’re okay?” eliott inquiries, concern etched on every plain of his sun-kissed face. summer is almost over. eliott brushes a hand through lucas’ hair once before cradling his beer bottle once more. “you don’t seem yourself today.” he concludes.

lucas shrugs his shoulders and decides to be honest for once. “i don’t feel in the best mood. sorry for my terrible company.”

eliott shakes his head, but before he can come up with what lucas believes would be a placating response, despite no times of this before, lucas interrupts, changes the subject. “i’ve never met anyone guy who is so comfortable around their male friends.”

as soon as it’s out of his mouth he regrets it. eliott’s hand retreats, his body language immediately becomes closed-off: shoulders hunched, no eye contact — eyes squeezed shut before glancing off to the side. lucas wants to hit himself, badly.

“no!” lucas yelps. it’s instinctive because he adores eliott, and hurting the people he cares for is the last thing he wishes to do despite the recent regularity of it. sometimes lucas thinks he hurts himself this way on purpose, punishes himself for being this messed up boy, any time he’s reached the light. he doesn’t find eliott’s tactile nature weird. if anything, he yearns for it — his heart almost craves it. “i-“ love it. he takes a breath, because he can’t say that. “i didn’t mean it like that. i meant- it’s you. that’s just how you are. you’re warm and you-“ lucas stops. he can’t believe he- he can’t look eliott in the eye — doesn’t know if he could conceivable do so anyway because he hasn’t looked at eliott’s face since he retreated into his shell — so he does the next best thing instead. he, ungracefully, pushes eliott’s legs down and flops down on them, resting his head on eliott’s thighs and raising an arm to shield his eyes from the glaring sun which has begun to set.

“it’s just different to all our other friends, you know? but it’s nice. it’s beyond nice,” and he goes rambling on, because he’s nervous but he wants to make sure eliott knows for certain that it’s not weird, that’s it’s good, in fact. “it’s comforting. especially for someone who didn’t grow up with that kind of ... familial affection.”

eliott relaxes after those words, disrupting his own silence with movement. carefully brushes a strand of lucas’ perpetually errant hair behind his ear and he’s smiling, full teeth and beautiful crinkled-eyes, causing lucas’ stomach to drop.

how is he supposed to breathe normally around that? lucas’ mind conjures up paintings from the few museums eliott has successfully managed to drag him to. he pictures contrasting harsh and soft lines, bold colours and soft tones. but his mind lands on muted, yellow flowers- sunflowers, which he’s sure were once bright and confident in their own beauty, dulled by time and the constant attention of roaming eyes: from breathless awe to complete apathetic glances. now, lucas has never actually see the painting in real life, rather, only through the fractured screen of eliott’s phone, but they stole the air from his lungs the first time he laid eyes on them. lucas has never been the most artistic, preferring the practicality and logic of science, he thinks years of unnecessary school trips to galleries tainted art for him, forever, until he met a certain someone. he’s not sure why these sunflowers have this specific affect on him, and whether it’s actually the painting itself, or rather how the moment he was shown them still compels feelings of joy and unbridled laughter from him, especially in his most desolate moments. eliott was practically standing on top of lucas, buzzing with excitement, phone shoved directly in lucas’ line of sight — definitely too close, because lucas had burst out laughing, grabbed eliott’s hand with the phone in, and pulled it back from his eyes, which had closed from the brightness and nearness of the screen to them. his head had fallen back against eliott’s shoulder and he’d looked up at him, shaking his head:

ok, ok, ok!

ok, lucas lied. It’s definitely the feeling of that moment that made him love the painting so.

“look at the sky, lu.” eliott’s quiet voice disperses lucas’ thoughts.

lucas glances up. he hadn’t noticed how late it had gotten; the sky was a gradient of beauty: magenta, easing into a violet, dripping into a cerulean blue. there is something magical about dusk, as the sky is no longer dominated by the burning sun, is left to its own devices, unraveling its perpetual blue to reveal a masterpiece of colour.

eliott glances at lucas whose face must mirror his own feelings because he responds. “yeah.”

“i like this.”

“me too.”

“i’m surprised you’ve been single this long.”

eliott snorts out a laugh, tipping his head back. “four months. all of which you’ve known me for.”

“huh, four months?”

“yep.” a hand brush through lucas’ brown locks.

“feels like forever.”

“i know.”

a few hours roll by, the daylight hours cycling at a rapid pace, it’s almost time for them to leave each other, but that’s not what’s on lucas’ mind, he’s found himself getting all heated over a topic many find nonsensical — that he wouldn't dare raise with le gang in fear of being laughed out — but he’s with eliott and they often find themselves getting all kinds of existential about fate and relationships and people.

“this idea that there’s only one person on the planet who your soul connects with is bullshit.”

“you don’t believe in soulmates?”

“no, it’s not that. i just don’t believe that there’s only one person out there ‘meant’ for you. i think you can connect with more than one person like that. every relationship is different, right? you talk to each friend about something different, or maybe the same thing but in polar-opposite ways. like, yann is definitely my soulmate. i love him. no one gets me like he does. he’s my brother. but i also have arthur who knows science like me; we can discuss new and old theories or articles we’ve read — that’s a passion we both share and i don’t get quite the same feeling when i’m speaking with someone else. then there’s basile who, yeah, jokes around a lot, is inappropriate 85% of the time, but what most people miss, because they don’t take the time to get to know him, is that he’s a fucking brilliant listener, you know? so if someone’s gonna sit there and tell me there’s only one person on the planet for each person then i’m calling bullshit because i have these three great dudes in my life who are without a doubt, my soulmates.” lucas is breathing slightly harder than normal, almost like he’s just finished a 200m sprint. he didn’t mean to get so passionate and worked up. he’s almost embarrassed again. but he didn’t say anything stupid, he’s sure of that, and he meant every single word.

“i always thought the idea that there’s only one person you really fall in love with was romantic as fuck, but...what you just said...your conviction proves that feeling wrong,” eliott responds, licking his dry lips once. “i never thought about friends as soulmates, but it makes complete sense.”

“i don’t know about love...” lucas teeters off. “i’ve never really felt that before.” he admits, looking down at his hands and turning them over, because he’s insecure on this subject matter — the expectations that everyone is young when they first experience it, and if you haven’t you’re automatically deemed an outsider. is it a lie though? has he never felt it, what are these feelings he gets around eliott? he loves hanging out with him but does he love him? can lucas love in that way?

“it’s strange. it’s the most consuming emotion. it’s one of the best and worst feelings...i miss it.”

“you miss being in love or you miss your ex. aren’t they kind of the same thing?”

“i don’t miss my ex, but, yes, i miss being in love.”

lucas doesn’t respond and eliott, it seems, doesn’t feel the need to expand on that, despite lucas’ brain wanting it more than anything — for eliott to explain why and if there’s someone he likes... another few minutes pass by in their companionable silence, no daydreams for lucas, just the sounds of traffic, pushchair wheels bumping over fallen twigs and a cold, subtle breeze — a harbinger of the night — it comes and it goes, much like their conversations that day.

“so, what about me?” eliott inquiries with a teasing smile on his lips. the breeze, though seemingly gentle, has carolled his hair into a wilder state — it brings a smile to lucas’ face, who only tilts his head in response.

“am i a soulmate?”

they’re sitting only a few inches apart, and the question feels personal — almost too much, but lucas has been spiralling on thoughts of eliott all this time, and he can’t help himself any longer.

“are you a soulmate?” lucas ponders, crossing his knees to sit directly in front of eliott who nods in askance.

“hm.” is all lucas replies as he raises his palms and indicates for eliott to do the same, which he does, placing his palms against lucas’. warmth blooms, and they both let out light sighs, masked by the other’s; it’s a cobalt-blue sky now, and the noises of the lives of the people around them are muted to the feeling of their contact.

lucas swallows and puts on a grin, “dear world, is eliott demaury a potential soulmate for i, lucas lallemant?” he felts warm breath ghost out in a chuckle.

lucas raises his eyebrows with a mock reprimanding look in his eyes. “what’s so funny?” eliott rolls his lips in, trying to prevent the smile and laugh from escaping before opening his mouth to sincerely apologise, but lucas interjects. “this is serious. i mean, if you don’t want to find out if we’re destined to know each other for life, then, i don’t know why i’m wasting my precious time.” all this he says, while trying to maintain his raised eyebrows, but eliott’s cheeks are puffing out and lucas’ head is becoming slightly sore from exercising his eyebrow muscles, and they’re looking each other dead in the eyes now — blues and greys and greens dark with no light to illuminate them — trying not to crack up. eliott clutches his stomach, falling forward, his forehead resting on lucas’ shoulder.

it’s a bliss no words can name, no language lucas knows can describe this feeling.

#mine #elu fic #this is scary but i posted this a while back on ao3 and i hope u enjoy :)#skam france #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #elu

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