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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I truly love your writing! Would you consider a continuation of that piece where Jules stays with coops for a week? Or just some snippets of what they get up to?

Here’s part 1, folks! It’s about 3k words and I’m thinking there will be three or four parts total, released over the next couple days. I hope you enjoy it!

Sweater Weather and Jules credit belongs to @lumosinlove!

“Jules.” A series of gentle knocks echoed down the stairs and Sirius smiled into his coffee cup. “Jules, it’s time to wake up.”

Regulus snorted. “Bet you five bucks he has to drag the kid down.”

“Deal.”

“Jules.” Remus knocked again, sounding more exasperated. There was a heavy sigh and the door clicked open; after a moment of quiet, someone yelped. “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Go away!” Jules groaned. “An’ give it back!”

“It’s time for breakfast, get a wiggle on. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

“I’m cold.” More rustling noises followed before Jules appeared at the top of the staircase, bundled in Remus’ sweatshirt—which was really Sirius’, but it didn’t matter—and scowling. His bedhead was outstanding.

“Bon matin,” Sirius said with a smile when Jules sat heavily in the chair next to him and put his forehead on his arms. “How’d you sleep?”

“I don’t like your fiancé.”

“Oh?”

“He’s mean.”

Sirius winked at Remus as he rolled his eyes and pulled a cereal box out of the pantry. “What did he do?”

“He stole my blankets with no warning.”

“That is such a lie,” Remus scoffed. “I knocked on your door for five whole minutes before I came in!”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” Sirius said, walking over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Reg owes me five bucks now.”

“Sweet, we can get more Oreos.”

“Oreos aren’t on your diet plan,” Jules sulked as Remus passed him a bowl of cereal and milk.

“How do you know?”

Jules mumbled something and shoved his spoon into his mouth. The night before had been hectic, with Sirius driving the Hope and Lyall to the airport while Remus helped set Jules up for the night. Regulus came back from hanging out with Leo around ten pm; by that time, Jules was still wired for sound at the idea of a week-long sleepover. He finally went to sleep around eleven thirty and Sirius and Remus crash-landed into bed, exhausted.

Practice was going to be hell.

“Why do we have to wake up early, again?” Jules asked around a yawn.

Sirius ruffled his hair as he sat down again. “Practice starts at ten. Eight o’clock is not early at all.”

He squinted at him, confused. “How early do you usually wake up?”

“Seven, seven-thirty.”

Jules shuddered and turned back to his cereal while Remus plonked himself down in Sirius’ lap with a coffee cup, looking moments away from falling asleep again. “Children are exhausting. Why did we get two of them?”

“Hey!” Jules and Regulus said in unison, clearly offended.

“We’ve got terrible judgement,” Sirius laughed.

“Older brothers are the worst, right Jules?”

“Totally. Are you coming to the rink with us?”

Regulus shook his head. “Sorry, buddy, I’ve got college stuff to work on. Want to help me with paperwork?”

Jules made a face. “I’ll pass.”

“We’re leaving in forty minutes, okay?” Remus said, stretching his back as he stood up and left Sirius’ lap cold and empty. “Jules, please take a shower.”

“I smell fine!”

“You didn’t take one yesterday or the day before. Scoot.” Jules rolled his eyes and got up. “Don’t give me that look! And put your bowl in the sink.”

Sirius and Regulus shared a glance as Jules put his stuff away and trooped up the stairs. “Hi, Hope,” Regulus snickered.

Resignation overtook Remus’ face and he sighed. “Fuck. I’m turning into my mother already. Reg, you should take a shower, too.”

“I smell fine!” The withering look from both Sirius and Remus made him raise his hands in surrender and wander off to his bedroom. “I’m nineteen, not nine!”

”And yet we still need to babysit you,” Sirius called back. Finally, they were alone. He hopped up to sit on the counter and grabbed Remus around the waist as he passed by, pulling him back for a hug. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Good morning.” Remus kissed him gently, bracketing his hips with his hands. He looked tired, but happy. “I’m actually pretty excited to have Jules stay with us. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Ne rien. It’s good to have people here.” They kissed for a moment longer, listening to the shower running upstairs and Regulus’ rummaging noises down the hall. “I swear to God, he’s like a raccoon.”

Remus laughed and leaned his forehead on Sirius’ shoulder. “He definitely sounds like one.”

“At least his room’s clean.”

“Cheers to that. He’s heading back tomorrow, right?”

“Mhmm. Dumo’s been bugging me for, like, three days.”

Remus hummed, wrapping his arms around Sirius and snuggling into him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. We’ve only got a little bit of time before Jules is out, so we should get dressed.”

Remus groaned, but released his limpet hold. “That was so close to a perfect sentence.”

Sirius paused just before hopping off the counter and raised his eyebrows. “If we have extra time…”

“Come on, you,” Remus laughed, tugging him off the counter by the hand and hurrying toward the stairs.

---------------------

They arrived at the rink at 10:05, and Sirius began bracing himself for the inevitable chirping as soon as he stepped out of the car. Jules bounced on his toes in excitement as they walked toward the building, laden with their hockey gear and still a bit frazzled from the mad dash out of the house.

“Is this the munchkin?” Moody asked when Remus knocked on the door to the PT office.

“Yep.” Remus looked down at Jules, whose eyes were wide and more than a little nervous as his grip tightened on Remus’ jacket hem.

“Alastor Moody,” he grunted, holding a hand out that Jules tentatively shook.

“Jules.”

“Wanna see how bones work, kid?”

Instantly, his nerves disappeared. “Yeah!”

Moody winked at them as he led Jules toward the joint models on the far wall and Sirius let out a slow breath. “He’ll be fine.”

“God, I hope so. If anyone can drive Moody off the wall, it’ll be my little brother,” Remus murmured as they headed off down the hall.

The yelling started the second Sirius opened the locker room door. “You’re LATE!” James shouted, grinning from ear to ear. “Hand over the badge, Captain.”

“We still have fifty minutes until practice starts, shut your face.” Sirius socked him on the shoulder and set his bag in the stall.

“What, pray tell, was the reason for this tardiness?” James leaned over and batted his eyelashes.

Remus rolled up a towel and smacked him on the ass with it. “My little brother.”

“Jules is here?” Leo perked up on the other side of the room, and Sirius saw several of the guys look over in excitement, as if they were hiding him in one of their bags.

“He’s staying with us for the week since my great-aunt passed away.”

“Shit, Loops, I’m sorry.”

Remus shrugged. “I never met her, but my folks went back for the funeral. Moody said he’d keep an eye on Jules during practice.”

“Lupin, Black, you’re late,” Coach Weasley said from the doorway, giving them a look over his glasses. “Do we need to have a conversation?”

“No, Coach,” Sirius said as he pulled his pads over his chest.

“I hear you’ve commandeered my head PT for the day.”

Remus shook his head. “If Jules starts bugging him—”

“I’m kidding, Loops.” Arthur’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Moody loves kids. This’ll be good for his disposition.”

Finn snorted. “Can’t get any worse.”

“I expect all of you on the ice in twenty. Any stragglers are doing laps outside!” Arthur slapped the edge of the doorway before ducking out into the hall again; his sneakers squeaked on the freshly-washed floor and Sirius stifled a laugh as he finished buckling up.

The five minute delay did not have a terrible impact on his pre-practice rituals, which he took a moment to be grateful for—they had a scrimmage planned, and he didn’t intend to lose. Once warmups were over, they moved into running plays, until finally the whistle blew and Coach called out the teams. Remus ended up on the other side and he slapped Sirius’ ass with his stick as he passed him, grinning over his shoulder before stopping next to Dumo.

Jules and Moody came out to watch a few minutes in; Sirius caught a glimpse of his wide eyes when he saw the speed of the game and smiled to himself. Everyone else seemed to notice the new arrivals as well, because their effort doubled and suddenly the plays were running smoother than ever.

Showing off for a ten-year-old, he thought with a shake of his head. Talk about baby fever.

Remus sped through the defense, weaving back and forth until he was nearly face-to-face with Sirius. His whole face lit up and he braced; when Sirius went to check him, he dipped sideways at the last second and slipped the puck right through his skates, catching it on the other side and zipping toward the goal at top speed. The goal light went off and Talker whooped, checking him in celebration.

“Lupin! Where’s that been all season?” Arthur demanded, though he was laughing. “Christ, guys, thanks for finally waking up!”

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” Sirius asked as they headed back for the face-off.

“You think you’re the only one who skates in the basement?” Remus said with a cheeky grin.

The whole rink buzzed with energy throughout the rest of the scrimmage—once or twice, Sirius realized even he was showing off a little for Jules, who cheered louder than fifteen thousand fans whenever someone scored.

Arthur shook his head when the final whistle went off. “Everyone say ‘thank you’ to Julian.”

“Thank you, Jules,” they chorused. Jules looked like he was about to die of happiness.

“I need to get him in here more often,” Arthur muttered as they headed to the locker room to change into their gym gear. “Let’s get that energy for every practice, okay? Not just the ones with Little Loops.”

“What are you talking about?” Kasey laughed.

Arthur fixed him with a look. “Don’t bullshit me, Winter, all of you were showing off for the kid.”

Remus blushed all the way to his ears, and the rest of them mumbled some half-assed excuses until they were shooed away. “I put the new schedule on the mirror,” Sirius called over the noise. “Try to pay attention to it for once.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Logan reached up and patted him on the shoulder as he passed; Sirius dragged him back into a headlock to ruffle his hair. “Ow, fuck, okay!”

Logan did not, in fact, stick to the schedule. He was far too busy tossing the lightest medicine ball they had with Jules, who staggered slightly whenever he caught it. Both looked absolutely thrilled.

Sirius, on the other hand, was glad for the opportunity to do a fair bit of ogling while he spotted Remus—who stuck to the schedule, Sirius had never loved him more—until he finished his bench-pressing rotation. He was strong before being a player, but now…well, it was safe to say he could sweep Sirius off his feet literally and figuratively.

“Re, Re!” Jules ran over when Remus finally sat up, then paused and made a face. “You’re sweaty.”

Remus pulled him in for a hug, making him shriek and wiggle to get out. “I am, yeah! Isn’t it great? Here, lemme just—”

Jules flailed, but he couldn’t get out of Remus’ hold in time to avoid the head nuzzle that plastered his hair up on one side with sweat as the guys laughed. “Ewww!”

“Did you need something, buddy?” Remus asked at last.

“Well, now I need a shower.” Jules grimaced. “I was going to ask if you guys actually do ice baths.”

“Of course we do!” Kasey cut in before Remus could quickly divert the topic. “And your brother loves them.”

Sirius had to turn around to muffle his laughter as interest lit on Jules’ face. “Really? Can I see?”

Kasey opened the door dramatically. “Right this way, Little Loops.”

Two of the ice baths were full when they arrived and Sirius did not miss the pained look on Remus’ face at the sight, nor did he miss the devious smile on Kasey’s. Jules hurried over to one and looked over the end, practically sticking his whole face in. “Woah.”

“Pretty cool, huh? You want to know what the best part is?”

“What?”

“Oh, Christ,” Remus muttered.

“Loops, will you do the honors and make sure your darling little brother has a good time?” Kasey asked, the picture of innocence. Remus sighed and stood next to the ice bath, silently begging Sirius for help with his eyes as Kasey motioned Jules over. “Alright, so you take one of these, and then you have to be super careful as you aim. Lucky for you, you’re learning from the best.”

Remus winced as the first ice cube smacked him in the side of the head and gritted his teeth as the second went down the neck of his t-shirt. Sirius schooled his expression into the mildest, sweetest smile he could muster. “He’s not doing anything,” Jules whispered. Remus began taking deep breaths.

“He will.”

“Try me, Wint—oh, sh—” Remus muffled a squeak as ice went directly down his spine. “Hoo, boy, that’s cold.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you censor yourself,” Kasey said, amazed. “It’s uncanny.”

“Are you done?”

“I could do this all day, but it’s my turn to make dinner tonight and Nat gets hangry if I’m late. Good game, Little Loops.” Kasey and Jules high-fived and Remus shook his shirt out; no less than four ice cubes clattered to the ground.

“Young man, you are in such big trouble,” Remus growled playfully as he swept Jules over his shoulder and began tickling his knees. Sirius dodged the squirming legs and held the door open for them as they walked back into the hallway. “You’re okay hanging out with Moody while we get our stuff together, right?”

“Yeah! He’s got the coolest knee statues.”

----------------------------------

Dinner was anything but a quiet affair; all three of them had taken a nap when they got home, then had a dance party in the kitchen while Remus taught Jules how to actually cook chicken so nobody got food poisoning. Sirius was torn between begging them for the details of that particular story and wanting to stay as far away from it as possible.

Regulus and Jules got into a fierce game of footsie under the table that only ended when a small foot��he still didn’t know which one it was—slammed into the base of Sirius’ knee, hard enough that it would certainly leave a bruise. “Ow.”

They both froze, shared a look, then silently went back to eating. “Practice starts at nine tomorrow,” Remus said around a bite of broccoli. “That means wake up time is six thirty, okay? We’ve got a game on Thursday and it’s super important that we’re not late again. Reg, what time are you heading out?”

“I was thinking noon-ish? That way I can get my stuff set up while Dumo’s still at practice. Don’t want to bother him.”

Jules turned to him with the biggest, saddest eyes Sirius had ever seen. “You’re leaving?”

“I live with Dumo, remember?” Regulus hesitated. “I’ll be at the game, though.”

“Can I sit with you?”

“Absolutely.”

That seemed to placate him, and he turned back to his chicken happily. Sirius nudged his brother, giving him a significant look, which was met with an eye roll that couldn’t quite cover the fond flush on his face.

Jules and Regulus took care of the dishes after dinner and Sirius stretched out on the couch to the sounds of the kid’s excited chatter as he recounted the day’s events. Remus flopped down on top of him, settling between his thighs with a contented smile. “Today went well.”

“Yeah, it did.” Sirius began running his fingers through Remus’ soft hair. “I think Moody is about thirty seconds away from adopting him.”

Remus laughed against his chest. “I think so. It’s pretty cool seeing him so excited about PT stuff.”

“It is.” There was a slow sigh and Sirius raised his eyebrows. “What was that about?”

“I just realized that even though Reg is leaving tomorrow, we won’t have the house to ourselves for six more days. It’s been two weeks.”

Sirius closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the armrest. “Fuck. I didn’t even think about that. Think we can dump him on Dumo for a night?”

“We can handle six days, right?”

“Yeah, totally.”

There was a beat of silence. “This is going to be difficult.”

“If we make it to the three-day mark, I say we break open the Oreos as a reward.”

“Sounds good to me—oof.”

They both groaned as an extra hundred pounds of person squished on top of them. “Dishes are done!” Jules chirped.

“Did you wash your hands?” Sirius wheezed, blinking the dark spots out of his vision. Remus’ chin was digging into his upper ribs.

“Yep! Regulus wants to watch a movie. I think we should watch Jurassic Park, but he says it’s terrible—”

“He what?” Remus raised his head slightly and craned his neck to look back at the kitchen. “Regulus!”

“What?”

“You don’t like Jurassic Park? I thought you had taste!” Remus pushed off the couch and Jules wrapped all his limbs around him like an oversized koala. “We’re watching it tonight and you’re going to like it. Come on, baby, we need to make sure your brother has culture.”

Two hours later, as the credits rolled and three people snored gently, Sirius smiled to himself. He could handle a week of this.

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nafeary · 4 years ago

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Napoleon, Theodorus, and le Comte’s Reaction to MC saying “I love you” first

Anon asked:

Hey there! I really like all the stuff on your blog, so could you do the suitors reactions to you saying I love you for the first time (like, if the route plots didn’t really happen). If all of them are too much, maybe just Napoleon, Theo and Comte. Maybe also include a little scenario? Thanks in advance.

✧✎ A/N: Heya, sweetest anon! Thank you so much for this request (and for including three of the daddy line), this was really fun to do~

Theo’s got... slightly longer than the others (almost a whole scenario by itself whoops). Don’t worry Napoleon. I have a WIP of yours. Thanks @juminly and @delicateikemenmemes for helping me out with Theo, and @marie-quentin for giving me a quick crash course in French. Drink water, y’all :))))

Warnings: slight suggestiveness, and implied sexual activities.

Napoleon Bonaparte

Pardon? Could you run that by him again?

It had been a morning like any other, welcoming the culprit who’d come to wake him up with his wonted kisses

However, this time around, he hadn’t met an interfering hand—which was by far his favored option. The other ones entailed pillows, fists, and even a certain someone’s foil

So when he met lips, molding together with his like a familiar imprint, he immediately shook off his fatigue, surprised to see his lover before him

His astonishment didn’t stem from the kiss itself (as you’ve done way more than just that), but you’ve never indulged in his habit before

Not only that, but it felt so much more...

Intimate. Passionate. Amorous...

Romantic. Purely romantic.

Your hands rose to his cheeks, cupping them in an ever so gentle embrace. Feeling almost weightless within your gentle expression, he sighed in the intimate comfort only one’s other half could provide.

“‘Leon?” The most idyllic melody made his eyes open, blinking a few times to adjust to the sun’s flaxen rays. He had to halt a few moments, for as his eyes managed to adjust, the golden glow hugging your form truly made you appear out of this world.

“Yes, nunuche?” Your loving and tender gaze almost made him melt, and it was a miracle that his question sounded as nonchalant as he was hoping for it to be.

“I love you.”

Napoleon couldn’t help the pounding of his heart. In all his years, no one had ever managed to make him feel so precious. Of course, he’s had his previous lovers, but as you stood before him like an angel of fortune, holding his head up in a pretense of it being the most wondrous diamond...

He couldn’t help the laughter spilling from his lips. At your affronted expression, he pulled you to his side, your cheek squished against his neck. Closing your eyes against his laughter’s shock waves—tens on the Richter scale—you couldn’t prevent the pout from conquering face.

Napoleon halted his laughter, although not completely, and his arms cocooned your midriff to lean in. Your toes curled as his lips brushed your ear.

“Je t’adore, nunuche.”

Theodorus Van Gogh

You might have to bring him to Isaac or Leonardo to fix, because you’ve completely broken this guy

He always expected to say it first, so he’s kinda mad??? But also really touched??? Fix him, please

It was no secret that Theodorus Van Gogh considered himself to be very domineering

Not because he wants the other person to feel save and protected... it was simply due to convenience pssst don’t tell him

Of course, he found it more than endearing when his girlfriend took the leash from time to time, and he genuinely enjoys her initiations of affection

Everyday, it took Theo all the self control he could muster up not to break into a smile at the sight of you, not to pick you up and whirl you around, not to throw you over his shoulder to carry you to his room...

Anyway, if you were to tell him the famous three words first, he’d be pure molasses in your hands

“Do you need more syrup, Theo?”

While the amount of liquid gold suggested the attendance of the entire mansion, it was only himself and his lover at breakfast. You had risen later than usual (due to certain nightly activities), and Sebastian was so kind as to allow you a day off.

“We’ll see,” he murmured, nevertheless thanking you when you brought him more with a disbelieving snort.

As you ate breakfast in the kitchen, not wanting to bother yourselves with setting everything up in the dining hall, he did not let your “inconspicuous” array of glances go unnoticed. Whenever he caught your eyes, you’d quickly avert your own, a faint blush dusting your skin. Perplexity marred his mind at your bashful actions.

Just when you stood up to do the dishes, he grabbed your arm, turning you around to trap you successfully underneath his form. Bewildered, you squirmed in his grasp, but that only made him pin your wrists in place. While this might not be your first time in this particular position, you could still only huff at his stern expression. “What did I do now? Do you always have to—“

“Quit your yapping, Hondje. Is there something on my face, or why do you keep on staring at me?” he spoke, as blunt and stoic as ever.

You chastised yourself— should have been aware that nothing could escape his detail-oriented eyes. Nonetheless, there was something... disparate about this morning: the hushed words of devotion, the warmth of nonchalant pecks—dare you say, it was almost domestic. It caused feelings of joy and felicity to ignite in your chest, and a certain sentence to cross your mind.

“...I love you, Theo.”

It was apparent that he’d been caught off-guard, a hand flying up to cover a short fit of coughing. And as his grip on you faltered, you flung your arms around his neck, urged by both embarrassment and closure.

“Y—you. Gadver...”

“Have I rendered the great Theodorus Van Gogh speechless?” You couldn’t help the teasing remark; eager to see his flushed expression, you peeled yourself out of the embrace. However, just as swift as he had faltered, his iron grip on you toughened once again, this time around closing the proximity to an intimate distance.

“Have you finally lost what little sense you had before?” His tone’s giddiness betrayed the harshness of his words, despite his best attempts to suppress that. As you tried to focus on anything apart from his breath caressing your neck, you espied the brilliant blush raging on his cheeks.

Deciding not to comment on his obvious joy, you pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “Don’t you have to punish me, then? I wouldn’t want to steal your thunder.”

When you pulled back to look at you love, you were met with his wild cerulean orbs. You’ve heard of people comparing them to ice, but you likened them to the tropic’s water; it might look trifling at most, but once you dive in, it would tell tales of colourful facets. Just like a big misunderstanding, crying out to be revealed.

You couldn’t care less that you were in the kitchen, that anyone could walk in on you, as he pulled you closer to himself, your legs finding their way around his waist.

Comte de Saint-Germain

He’d definitely be shocked at first, widening his eyes at your forthcoming admittance

After all, these three words might seem minuscule to a lot, but they held enough power to truly cement a relationship

Whenever he looked at his chérie, he felt the need to tell them to you 24/7, but he reconsidered that it was only right to give you more time to grow accustomed to him (and his period)

After a few months of living together, and a solitary trip back to the past (which proved itself vain as his offer was declined once again), he resolved to tell her these fateful words

He heard his amour before he saw her, the sound of your steps hurrying down the staircase growing more and more pronounced. Ere he was able to turn around to greet you, you practically pounched onto him, fingers clasping by his waist as you embraced him from behind. You squeezed his middle section gently in an effort to breathe in his scent.

Shock subsiding, he enbosomed your hands with his own, having missed your warmth—your devotion—as it crowned him with more than the sun could ever wish to.

“I have something—“

“—to tell you.”

Both of you spoke up at the same time, prompting you to smile in delight. Hearing composed, albeit joyful, laughter spilling from your lover’s lips, followed by the incessant remark of ladies-first, you uttered the words you have been longing to say, “I love you.”

The gentle rising of his torso came to a sudden halt, and he twisted around to face you. He might not have been gone for too long, but you’d missed each other regardless.

You knew the feeling was mutual as his golden eyes burned with desire, his walls coming down bit by bit, exposing a rare sight of the count’s vulnerability. With his hands inching just above your lower hip, the not so innocent innuendo of their barely proper distance to your butt was duly noted.

“I’ve been hoping to tell you these words myself, ma moitié.” His mouth traced the shell of your ear, and you felt him smile against your skin—as gentle as flower petals, yet just as seductive. “Perhaps we could arrange my reciprocation in private?”

Tag list: @juminly, @kisara-16 (I totally forgot that you asked me to be tagged quite a while ago... I’m sorry (*´Д｀*))

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sunnysidekit · 3 years ago

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Summary: All is fair in love and war. And boxing, too, apparently.

Pairing: Ben ‘Benny’ Miller x F!Reader (no y/n, reader’s boxing nickname is ‘Nyx’)

Warnings: Language, mentions of violence.

Word count: 2.2k

My masterlist

Everyone likes a good mystery. Don’t even try to deny it; whether you like Sherlock Holmes or if you’re more of an Agatha Christie fan, none of us can really escape the allure of a good conundrum every now and again. Some people can stare in the face of their mystery and not recognize it for quite some time, while others can practically smell them from a mile away. Ben Miller is part of, well, both groups.

Personally, he likes mysteries and surprises and such, but his army days have taught him all of those are a bad thing. A mission can collapse after the smallest detail changes, after all. Sometimes those missions are called off; other than the fact that he can’t do his job when that happens, he’s not really bothered by it. But when something catches him and his team by surprise during a mission and they have to get on with it anyway, things tend to… let’s say, not end well for everyone. And that’s gently put, of course.

Which is why when he’s at home between deployments, he likes his simple habits. They provide joy and adrenaline, and boy does he need both to function well. One of those habits is boxing. He likes it because of its simplicity; you punch your opponent, they punch you back, and so on and so forth until one of you stops. He’s good at it, too. Will always says that’s because he practiced a lot on him when they were younger. Ben says he’s the one with the good genes. Their mother was a fighter, too, after all.

The other reason he likes boxing is because your opponents always try to surprise you with a little mystery move. It’s fun for him to figure out how to respond in a split second, and the rush he gets when he does so successfully is almost unparalleled. Today, though, the only real surprise is the sudden appearance of his very own mystery. And, hey, you might know where this one’s going: it appears in the shape of a woman…

Benny whoops when he kicks open the door to his old high school gym’s changing room, but it sounds a bit less enthusiastic than it did after his last match. He knew he should have listened to Will and gone somewhere, anywhere else than back to Red Feather Lakes, but he’s not about to mention it when he can already imagine the smug grin spreading across his brother’s face.

He won, that’s what counts. And it’s not that bad to have done so after what is sure to be America’s easiest boxing match. That just means he’s good at it. The crowd went just as wild as it usually does, even though there were significantly less attendants than two weeks ago. Somehow, none of the arguments he tells himself really convinces him.

“All right!” Catfish says triumphantly from behind him. “Looks like all that training paid off, didn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Benny trails off as his slightly blurry vision comes back into focus. There’s someone sitting on one of the benches, someone he doesn’t know. It’s a woman; her aura tells him she’s all business, but her clothes tell him she also definitely plays. “Who’re you?”

The woman doesn’t respond immediately; only after half a minute of casually typing away on her phone does she look up and meet his eye. “Name’s Val,” she says, her facial expression one he can’t quite place. “And I’m about to ask you something you won’t be able to ignore.”

It’s important to notice that Benny isn’t particularly patient in his post-fight high, something Frankie knows very well. He becomes a bomb of electric energy that, once set off, won’t stop until every single muscle in his body gives out. And he’s about to be set off.

“Val, is it?” Frankie smiles at the woman, swiftly moving his friend to the showers. “Why don’t we talk while he cools down, hm?”

“You’re not the one I want to ask a question,” she says calmly, not taking her eyes off Benny. “You’re a Delta boy, aren’t you? I can see it in the way you fight. It takes regular boxers years to develop such a sensitive, quick response capability.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And that makes me think that oaf out there’s a long way from even thinking of acquiring your skillset. It’s impressive how easily you had him on the mat.”

“Ma’am, if you want an autograph-” Frankie tries, sensing the ticking time-bomb next to him is about to blow, but Val immediately interjects.

“Which is precisely what caught my eye. These men are no challenge for you anymore, but I think I know someone who could be. Should you accept their invitation, that is.”

“Do I know him?” Benny narrows his eyes at her, trying by god to figure out her angle in all of this. She smirks and closes her eyes a few seconds longer than a normal blink would take; touchy subject, maybe? Or perhaps he’s right and he has seen the guy before.

“You might have seen them around, sure. But I doubt you’d remember them.”

“So, what? I say yes and I’ll fight your friend here next week or something?” Benny snatches his towel from his bag and snaps it against the wall in annoyance.

“I’m afraid my friend’s a little more… complex than that, Mr. Miller.”

“Hey, uh, no thanks,” Frankie cuts in, waving his hands as if to dissipate the words in the air. “He doesn’t do illegal fights.”

“He’d have plausible deniability,” Val says with a slight tilt of her head, then turns back to face Benny and hands him a business card. "Anyway, the choice is yours, Mr. Miller, not your friend’s. I don’t need an answer right now. Do take your time to think it over, sleep on it a bit. Once you’re a little more comfortable with the idea, give this number a call. I’ve got a feeling they’d very much like to bruise that pretty face of yours until it looks like a Monet.”

She gets up from the bench and walks out of the changing room without looking back. Benny slips the business card into his jacket pocket, something that catches Frankie’s attention.

“Don’t do it, Ben,” he sighs. “I’m serious. You could get arrested, get your ass thrown in jail. You’ll get kicked out of the army.”

“Stop whining, Fish. I’m not gonna do it anyway.”

Despite explicitly telling Frankie he wouldn’t do it, here he is, standing outside his local gym with his phone in one hand and the curious looking business card in the other. There’s not a lot of info on it, but, hey, what did he expect? That an illegal streetfighter would publish their own name, address and contact info on a bunch of business cards?

There are only two things printed on the grey little card: Nyx, which must be the fighter’s nickname or something, and a phone number. It’s been in his jacket pocket ever since he left his old high school, but it felt like it’s been burning a hole in it the entire time. It’s exactly as Val said it would be. He can’t get her proposition out of his mind, no matter how hard he tries.

She’s right about the competition. They’re no match for him, not the ones here in Red Feather Lakes. And, sure, he could always just sign up for something three towns over, but it wouldn’t matter much. How she found out he’s in the Delta Force is beyond him, though. It’s policy not to broadcast such a position if you want to stay in it. Maybe she has connections in the army…

That’s another thing; his place in the army. It would be gone as soon as he gets caught, and it’s not like he’s got great job prospects waiting for him back home when all he’s done for the past ten years is train to get where he is now. No college degree, no other jobs to list on his resume, no wealthy parents to fall back on… His whole life would go up in smoke.

But it does entice him. He technically does illegal things for his job all the time, and the matches he engages in when he has some down time aren’t really scratching that one particular itch anymore. Let’s face it: one phone call can’t hurt, right? He can still refuse, say no, put his foot down. Maybe even convince this guy to go legit.

He pushes the little green receiver on the screen, then puts his phone to his ear. The dial tone beeps three times before someone picks up. He opens his mouth to say something, but the person on the other side is quicker.

“Ben Miller, I presume?” It’s… a woman. But not Val. “Val told me you’d be giving me a call.”

“And you’re…” he quickly flips over the card just to be sure, “…Nyx, then?”

“Got it in one. I do so hate it when Val forgets to mention my name in the initial interview.”

Benny huffs out a confused laugh. “Interview?”

“You aced it, by the way. Not saying too much is best when talking with my… let’s call her my associate,” the woman says. Her voice is softer than Val’s, and a lot smoother. It sounds like what taking a sip of hot chocolate feels like. “Shall we get on with it and discuss the rules of this little arrangement?”

“I don’t-- rules? I haven’t even given you an answer.”

“Oh, don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ve got any restraint left,” she chuckles. “You want to tell me you called just to say hello to a total stranger?”

“No, but-” Benny splutters, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“Then your answer, even if you haven’t given it to me yet, is as clear as the Pope’s Holy Water. Now then, the rules. In order to keep you in the warm, sunny, light side of the law, I’ll arrange a time and place. All you have to do is show up.”

He can’t help but grin. She’s clearly on top of this whole cloak and dagger operation, that much he can tell. Who she is, though, he can’t say. Not yet. Maybe he’ll recognize her when he sees her. “What about my gear?”

“Do take it with you, please. I’m not a charity, giving away free gear to any John, Charles or Mary.”

“All right,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Anything else?”

“Val will pick you up and get you back home safely, so don’t worry about the whole transport situation.”

“This doesn’t sound very... safe. I mean, you do realize this sounds a lot like kidnapping, right? Or murder, or something like that?”

The woman laughs. It sounds like the melody to a song he knows but has never heard at the same time. It’s the kind of laugh that makes everyone around laugh as well. “Why would I tell you all this and then still proceed with it if my intent was malicious? You can easily call the cops and have my dear Val arrested for whatever crime you think me capable of, and that wouldn’t be very good for my business.”

“Fair enough.”

“Speaking of Val, she’ll pick you up next Wednesday at nine.”

Benny kicks a piece of gravel onto the street next to him and swallows away the last of his pride and dignity. “All right, I guess I’ll see you then.”

“Good lord, I can’t believe Val forgot to tell you that, too,” she laughs again, then clears her throat and continues a lot more seriously. “I only dance in the dark. Have a good night, Mr. Miller.”

Usually, waiting takes ages, but not this time. For Benny the rest of the week practically flew by him and before he knows it, it’s already Wednesday. He went training with Frankie just like any other week, only this time he accidentally forgot to mention his fight with Nyx. He told himself that the less people know about his, uh, date, the better, but he also knows Frankie would have immediately pulled the plug.

Val arrives at nine o’clock sharp in the front seat of a cab, which is no surprise. The drive that follows doesn’t take very long; he also isn’t blindfolded or anything like they do in the movies. The car stops in front of an old warehouse in the east side of town, and that’s when Val turns around in her seat and very concisely tells him to get his ass out of her cab himself, since she’s not going to hold open the door for him.

Instead of driving off, Val simply pulls the keys from the ignition and tosses them to him, calling it his ‘insurance policy’. Then she waves her hand as if to tell him to hurry up and get inside, which he promptly does.

Well, that whole dancing in the dark reference seems to have been meant literally; as soon as the warehouse door closes behind him, an inky, suffocating darkness envelopes Benny and makes a shiver run up and down his spine. He takes a few tentative steps, holding out his arms and moving them around to make sure he doesn’t hit anything while he walks.

Suddenly, a voice calls out to him from a bit further into the sole, big room this warehouse seems to consist of.

“Good evening, Mr. Miller. Let’s get swinging, shall we?”

A/N: Hey there, you made it to the end! Thanks for reading through the whole thing, I hope you liked it. If you’ve got any suggestions or spotted a mistake or two, don’t hesitate to tell me so that I might fix it. I hope you’ll stick around for round two!

#ben miller x you #ben miller x y/n #ben miller x reader #benny miller #frankie morales #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund fic #garrett hedlund fanfic #my writing

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pearl-blue-musings · 4 years ago

Text

Perchance to Meet pt. 3

whoops is it time for a little bit of angst??? i think it’s time for a little bit of angst.

warnings: cussing, suggestive language, attempted assault, sexual assault, stalking, unwanted advantages,smut, angst, another smut warning cause i haven’t written smut in a HOT minute, please 18+ cannot stress that enough

masterlist for my writing

Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One date had turned into three which sprouted into many many more. Despite having challenging schedules, the two new found lovers made time for each other. Aizawa didn’t really think he’d get a chance like this but here he is, standing outside the bookstore he frequents as often as he can with a tiny goofy grin on his face.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

He stutters out a response upon seeing the outfit his girlfriend decided to wear. It wasn’t an easy thing to squeeze out of the man, but after the fifth date and the first time she spent the night at his place the couple made it official. Even his co-workers couldn’t believe the sleepy man had a girlfriend on top of everything he already does… But here she is, wearing one of his favorite outfits of hers as they meet up for a brief date.

“I was about to drop dead if I had to wait any longer,” he whispers as he leans in to give her a chaste kiss on the lips. “I love the way you look tonight.”

(Y/n) looks away embarrassed. Even though they had been dating for over three months now, she still couldn’t get used to Shouta’s flirting and downright cuteness. “T-thank you, Sho. I’m glad you get a few hours before your patrol shift starts.” She looks to him with bright and eager eyes that he could get lost in forever. “So, where are we going?”

It takes a little willpower in Aizawa to hold back a smirk as he enjoys the view of her impatience adorn her features. He’s not sure who will be more excited for the date, him or her.

“You’ll see,” he snickers. Her eyes roll as they stroll along the street. The setting sun ahead of them litters the sky with beautiful purples and oranges; a few clouds line the skies giving the world around them an ethereal feel.

They continue to walk for about ten more minutes, having mindless conversation about anything and everything, from how he’s going to be a homeroom teacher for the next year, how she wants to add a café portion to her bookstore to draw in more people and have more income, it flows seamlessly.

Soon they stop at a store front that is unfamiliar to the woman. Once she sees that her lover has stopped, she looks to the sign and suddenly her face lights up.

“Shouta, shut up are you serious?”

He leans down to her ear, “we’ve walked by this before and I’ve always noticed how your eyes linger here. So I got us reservations.”

The sparkle in her eye is unfazed as the grin on her face only gets wider.

“A cat café!? Shouta, I can’t- I mean you took me? Here? God, you’re amazing! I just-“ she ends her sentence by pulling him by his jacket collar and kissing him lovingly. After his initial shock, he cups her face with his warm hands and deepens the kiss. The feel of his lips on hers is a sense she never wants to tire of; she’s practically addicted to it already.

Aizawa hesitantly pulls away, “as much as I’d like to continue that, we don’t wanna miss our reservation, Kitten.” He kisses her on the cheek and pulls her inside the establishment. Once inside, the couple gets swept up in the ambiance of the place. (Y/n) had an inkling that this date wasn’t just to make you happy, but to make a certain cat lover of a man next her happy too. She had picked up on his love of cats and strays on their other dates and she may or may not attempt to adopt one of the cats as a surprise.

Two hours went by too quickly in the couples opinion, but they had to sadly leave. Their stomachs and hearts full, the two begin their walk back to the bookstore. A deep voice breaks the content silent. “I really don’t want to go on patrol tonight.” (Y/n)’s eyebrows furrow at his statement and silently urges Aizawa to continue. “I want to keep looking at you like this. So happy and content… I wish our schedules weren’t so crazy.”

“I do too,” she breathes, “but that’s how it is and I get it. I mean, we both know each other at this point and know that we’re busy. It’s life, we do what we love and hopefully someone will be there with us you know…”

The momentum of the conversation slows as they reach the bookstore. The words she wishes to say fill up her lungs begging to burst from her lips as she stares at the pre hero before. She gulps whatever anxiety she has and blurts out the words she’s wanted to say all night.

“I love you.”

Black eyes widen at the proclamation and then soften once he sees the shyness and slight fear (Y/n) poses in front of him. He steps up to her, staring at her lips then back to the eyes he can get lost in forever and whispers, “I know, I love you too Kitten,” and softly kisses her lips.

***************************************

“Hey, it’s (Y/n), I mean, yeah it’s me… But where are you? I’ve been waiting outside the club for about 10 minutes now. I know your patrol ended half an hour ago. Just call me back okay?”

(Y/n) grouchily hangs up the phone and pouts. She knew he was out late which is why she wanted him to pick her up from work so she could spend the weekend at his apartment. Aizawa had just finished the first week of school as the new 1-A homeroom teacher and his girlfriend knew he would need sometime to relax. Begrudgingly, of course.

She looks to her phone again and sees that it’s approaching 2:30 in the morning. Normally she doesn’t take closing shifts because of the bookstore, but wanted to align her schedule with Aizawa’s for some time together. After almost a year don’t you think he would have been a little more considerate of this fact? This wasn’t easy for her with the new café being added to her store and having to hire new employees; she needed this one little thing.

“Fuck it, I’m walking by myself.”

Clearly a bad idea. Blissfully unaware, she sullenly walked away from her second job and toward Aizawa’s apartment. The city at night wasn’t always the safest and she knew that, but she had been waiting for more than 20 minutes for Aizawa to show and he hadn’t so she took matters into her own hand. She kept her bag close to her body as she sped walk, attempting to keep her roaring thoughts at bay.

Her phone buzzes which halts her mind, and herself, and she stops in her path. She reaches in a sees a text from him saying “omw”. That’s it? And just now? Barely being on her way, she decides to turn around and go back to their original meeting place.

Bad idea number two. Roughly, she bumps into a stiff being and trips back a few steps. In front of her is a man in a long coat and hat, covering most of his identity. “Excuse me,” she mutters past him, but is abruptly stopped when his hand grips her forearm.

“You don’t remember me.”

“Sir, let go of me.”

“Why don’t you remember me?!”

Panic rising in her, (Y/n) begins to struggle against her assailant. “Sir I have no idea what you want from me! Please let me go.”

The man, clearly hysterical, pulls her into a nearby alley and slams her against the brick wall. The woman winces in pain and tries her best to not cry in front of this stranger. “Please, just take my bag… Don’t hurt me!”

“…Why don’t you remember me? You served me for months at the club. Months! You always made my favorite drink, always made me feel better. I love you (Y/F/n)! I always gave you extra tips when I came in and now I find that you’re thinking of quitting?! Is there someone else? I left my wife like you said I should because I wasn’t happy!”

The more the man rambles, the more she starts to remember. He went by the name Shuichi Oda and from what she gathered had a rough night. Obviously a drunk, it seems like things haven’t been going well for him. She remembers having some brief conversations with him to make her patron feel better but… Damn it! She knew that this was the downside of her quirk, some people took it too personally.

“Look, Shuichi-“

“You do remember me!” He exclaims and pulls her into an unneeded hug and starts to pet her hair. “I’ve been waiting for you to be alone for quite some time. Your quirk made me feel better. You, made me feel better.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” she shakily tries to reason, “I’m just a bartender. It’s my job to make people feel better.”

The man hits his head with his fist, frightening the woman. “No! With you, it’s different, see?” After he says he leans in to sloppily kiss her, holding her still against the wall behind her. His hands begin to roam in places they shouldn’t which make tears start to form in her eyes. “Please don’t cry,” he wipes a tear from her face but she moves out of his reach. “Don’t be scared, I love you. And you’re gonna come with me and be with me forever okay?”

“Please,” she screams, “let me go! I have- mmph!”

“Sh sh sh sh, we can’t have you screaming! Others could hear and try to take you away from me!” The hand he placed over her mouth is now covered in tears from her eyes. She bites at him, but his maniacal smile only gets bigger. “I don’t feel physical pain darling, just emotional.” As soon as he says that, his wandering other hand goes toward her breast and he sighs in contentment. “Oh how I’ve longed for this-“

“That’s enough!”

Soon Shuichi is being thrust into the air. He’s wrapped up in bindings and hanging from a nearby streetlamp. Eyes glowing red stare at the apprehended man and pull the wraps tighter, causing him to cough in pain. Aizawa tugs on the wraps to make the man hit his head on the light and pass out. Luckily some sirens are heard closely as someone walking by heard her scream and called for the police. Aizawa was on his way and followed the direction of the police cars hoping it didn’t involve his lover.

An hour later finds the couple walking into the pro hero’s apartment. A strong silver blanket is still wrapped around (Y/n)’s body as they make their way in. They both take off their shoes and settle in silence as the events of the last hour replay through their minds. They don’t even bother to eat anything and start to get ready for bed. Her pajamas are partially on when he sits down on the bed and mumbles, “why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Hm? What was that?”

Sighing louder, her turns to face her. “I said, why didn’t you wait for me like you were supposed to?”

(Y/n) scoffs as she pulls his shirt down her body. “Are you kidding me? Why didn’t I wait? Why were you late?” Her question came out more forceful than she intended but it had been a very long day. “I rearranged my schedule so then we could get off work around the same time for once. Where the hell were you?”

“Don’t give me that,” he states getting louder, “school went late so I began my patrol late.”

“Would it have killed you to tell me that instead of keeping me waiting?”

“Would it have killed you to wait where I wanted you to? Then maybe tonight wouldn’t have happened.”

Her mouth flew open at his assumption. “Are you saying me getting attacked was my fault?!”

Aizawa rolls his eyes as his frustration grows. “If you had just stayed there and waited I was going to get there.”

“Yeah sure! But did you forget the part where that nutjob has been following me for months? He would’ve gotten to me regardless.”

“That’s because you’re too kind. Letting people think that all their problems and issues will go away with just the right fix!”

“You’re ridiculous!” You yell, “Is that really what you think of me and my quirk? Is that what you think I did to you?” (Y/n) moves around the bed to get face to face with him to prove more of her point.

He stands up off the bed to look down at her. “It could be like that for him or any other guy you’re kind to or use your quirk on. All you had to do was wait!”

“And we’re back to where we fucking started. You were late! What was I supposed to do? Wait for the next guy to come along and fuck me over in the middle of the night?”

“(Y/n) that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Oh is it? Then why do you keep putting the blame on whether or not I waited?”

“Look,” he recedes slightly, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about me being late, but you can’t just walk around by yourself like that!”

“Fuck off, yes I can! I’ve done it before why does it suddenly have to change now?”

“Because I fucking love you, idiot!”

Throats hoarse after the shouting match, black eyes shut as he sinks into the bed. (Y/n)’s conviction begins to falter as she follows him onto the mattress. “Shouta?”

He takes a deep breath in attempt to control himself, “I know I should have told you I was late, I’m sorry. But, I’ve never felt this way about anyone. When you weren’t there, I panicked.” He leans onto her shoulder while she rubs his back soothingly. “I was so scared for you. When I saw him touching you, I saw red.”

(Y/n) breathes deeply taking in his words, “Sho…”

“I don’t want to lose you, or have you be hurt because of me. I’m a pro-hero and a teacher at a prominent school, I’m bound to have some enemies.” He sits up to meet her gaze, holding her face in his hands. “That guy hurt you because of you and I wasn’t there.”

“Sho, it’s not your fault.”

Silence falls over them, letting the weight of their words settle into their beings. He brings her forehead toward his as fresh tears fall from her face wetting his skin.

“Kitty cat, I’m sorry for yelling.”

She kisses him lightly, “Me too.”

He kisses her again, and again, and again, Until the light, chaste kisses become deep and full of lust. Her hands find solace in his hair as her lips grant his tongue entrance. He pulls her closer to him, hoping that she can feel his erection through his pants. The feeling of him grinding against her sleep shorts elicits a moan from her mouth that makes him harder. They break for air, a line of saliva connecting them as their pupils dilate.

“Fuck I wanna keep going but you’ve had a long day.” He tries to pull away from her only to be brought in for another breathless kiss. His hands automatically went to her hips. “Kitten,” he moans into her lips.

“We have the whole weekend for me to treat you right. The whole weekend for you to be screaming my name, calling me daddy,” he smacks her ass at that comment earning a hiss from (Y/n) which ended up making her even more wet. “But we need to sleep.”

“Fuck you Shouta,” she whines. “I wanna fuck you now. I’m already so fucking wet for you and I know your dick is itching to be in my mouth or better yet in me.”

Aizawa grunts at the implications but stays strong. “No, sweetie. As much as I really want to, we gotta sleep.”

“Please I want to forget he touched me so please do something or else-“

At that she’s quickly pinned to the bed with the strong man above her. “Don’t forget,” he whispers, “you asked for this.” He slowly drags her bottoms down her legs, exposing her dripping sex to him. It took everything in him to not move too fast. Once her pj bottoms were thrown across the room, he situates himself between her legs, rubbing his hands up her calf, to her thighs enticingly slow. A pressure is felt on her hips as she’s being held in place by her lovers grip.

On instinct her hips buck slightly, eagerly awaiting what’s to come. The feel of his breath on her inner thigh sends her thoughts into a frenzy, only for him to place his lips around the sensitive skin. His kisses are feather light that they almost don’t feel like they’re there, but she’s reminded as soon as his teeth make contact with her skin. A whine escapes her lips at the action, making Aizawa growl.

“Fuck, kitten, you’re so wet for me.”

“Mhm, ah, only for you Daddy- ah fuck!”

All his restraint came undone at the pet name as he wrapped his lips around her folds, sucking and tonguing her with earnest. The way his tongue would flit in and out of her wet hole drove him crazy; it was like she was made for him and only him. He continues to lap at her folds, already starting to feel the pressure build up within her.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna cum for Daddy this early, eh? All I’ve done with eat you out and I’m not full. Plus,” he sneaks a finger into making her hiss and cuss, “I don’t think you’ve had your fill yet Kitty cat.”

Her moans and whines are music to his ears as he doesn’t let up his ministrations. Now two fingers deep into her, he begins to scissor her open while sucking on her abused and pronounced clit.

“Ah, fuck Sho. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” (Y/n) is breathless as her back arches off the mattress for the umpteenth time. She can feel him smile against her as he lifts up to face her. “Then cum Kitten, cum for Daddy.” His motions speed up and upon hearing her scream out his name mixed with curses, he lets up. God, she looks beautiful like this. Her body is covered in a glimmering layer of sweat, her stomach moving in time with her rampant breathing as she comes down from her high. No one else will get to see her like this, no one. Aizawa wipes away sweat from her brow and leans in to let her taste herself on his tongue. The action alone is enough to make him want to burst, which he is tempted to do.

“Damn, you’re still so wet and slick for me,” he notes swiping a finger against her to reaffirm.

“Babe, rollover. I wanna ride you.”

The lovely man above her lifts an eyebrow at her request, “as you wish, princess.” He is then forcibly pinned, almost like what happened to her not too long ago. “Fuck, you look so hot from down here babe.” He knows that she needs this, to feel to be in charge and take the lead. So he doesn’t help her line up the tip of his hard cock to her entrance, and he doesn’t push himself up into her like he wants.

A wanton moan escapes his lovers lips as she finally settles herself on his cock. She feels the grumble and twitching from her his dick inside her and the feeling is euphoric. The pro-hero’s breath gets shallower as he waits for her to move on him, again holding himself back from taking charge. Once she starts bouncing on his cock, all he can do is whisper and moan out praises and curses. “Fuck, Kitten. That feels so fucking good.”

“Yeah babe? You like the way I’m riding your cock?”

He hisses, “fuck yeah. Please do it more- unf.”

Suddenly he feels a new and ecstatic feeling as she gyrates her hips in ways that have him seeing stars. He’s trying to figure out if there’s some kind of pattern. And then it hits him.

“You spelling your name on my cock, yeah?”

A gasp for air is heard from both of them before she responds, “I’m just, ah, letting you know who this belongs to baby.”

“Ah fuck, Kitten, I’m gonna cum soon. But first,” his voice lowers as he grabs her breast in his hand. His thumb flicks over her nipple, earning another moan before he wraps his lips around it. His tongue continues to work the hardening bud as his hand kneads her mound. His free hand works its way to her clit and begins to rub it fiercely.

“Fuck Shouta, if you keep doing that…”

A slick pop is heard as black eyes bore into lust filled ones. “I know Kitten, we’re so close. Come on, let Daddy cum. Let me cum inside baby.” “Yes, yes ah fuck- FUCK!”

The melodious sound of moans and whimpers fill the once noiseless bedroom as the couple comes down from their highs. They fall onto each other, sweat covered and full of love for each other. Their breathing starts to slow the more they wait out, still being connected by their sexes. (Y/n) is the first to move as she slowly removes herself from her boyfriends embrace, whining at the loss of contact. Aizawa leans up slightly to take in her form and beauty.

“I’ll go grab a towel and some water.”

He pecks her cheek and leaves the room. Once he returns, he sees (Y/n) and fondly smiles. She had finally fallen asleep after everything was said and done. He rolls his eyes but continues to clean up their little mess. He leaves her water glass on her nightstand while he had finished his.

Aizawa pulls the covers over the two of them as he cuddles into his girlfriend, watching her sleep soundly. She looks ethereal right now, no problems or stress on her features.

“I swear I will protect you. Whatever it takes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ha ha hahahahaha it’s so long whoops but yee if the option is there the taglist is open! @kiribaku-queen @shinsouskitten @therealwalmartjesus @prk-pyo @cupcake-rogue

#i did the thing #my writing #perchance #aizawa x y/n #shouta aizawa #aizawa x reader #bnha x reader #bnha reader insert #bnha aizawa #bnha x y/n #aizawa shouta

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dikiyvter · 3 years ago

Note

23 & 31? :eye: for either or both

Of course aid anything 4 u <3

Uncommon Questions [ accepting ]

23. How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)?

For Gio: Envy is... kind of a scale of ugliness for Gio, to be honest. First and foremost his envy is typically not something ugly; It's typically something that turns more into a hopeful longing other than any sort of truly resentful behavior. Just because he wants what someone else has doesn't mean that he needs to take it from them necessarily; the world is not a pie to be split among it's inhabitants. He views the world as an endless wealth, and if he wants something someone else has, all he has to do is work to get it himself. Ultimately his longing to be human and to take a quiet role in human society spawns from envy of the lives that humans lead.

... And then there's the far uglier envy. Gio is a rather childish individual who experiences emotions very strongly; In part this is subconscious acting, and in part it's genuine truth; He's really never been good at things regarding emotions primarily because he's never been taught a whole lot in regards to control of ones emotions or ways to manage them. He's a bit... emotionally stunted but more in the 'seems like an erratic mood swing-y mess because he feels very strongly' sense and less, you know, [gestures at Baal and Zhongli]. There is thus always a chance that when Gio becomes envious of something, his first reaction is that of intense resentment towards whoever it is that has what he doesn't- This is partially true even for his love of humanity. Even though he starts off with the thought of "this is beautiful" it was still interlaced with a lot of bitter resentment that he would never really have that; Coming to terms with his worldview is what got rid of that. But it's a bit harder to have a mentality of 'the world isn't a pie; someone having a bigger slice than me doesn't mean i can't have more if i want it' when its... say...

A person whom you love whose fallen for another or is having all of their time taken up by them.

For Riga: ...Riga gets a much shorter paragraph and for that I apologize, but I have a lot more thoughts regarding Gio on this subject considering that lil clowns got a lot of conflictions and nuance to ramble about. Riga, on the other hand, tends to be far more simplistic in the things he is feeling and how he is feeling them; though this isn't to say he feels any less strongly or erratically than Gio does.

Rigatello typically feels envy as a genuinely ugly awful emotion that typically results not just in resentment but in a very, very intense form of frustration. A major part of his character is that he is someone who wants very little, but the few things he does want are things he perceives more as needs; Case in point being he doesn't perceive wanting Gio to care about him as being a want, he sees it as a need, and when your needs are denied you become... what? Angry. Frustrated. Depressed. Envy turns him violent, because why should others have what's rightfully his? Why are others entitled to the few things he truly needs? Why is he not deserving of these things? There's a tangible cycle to a lot of Rigatellos emotions, and it's that he is confronted with something ( or someone ) he wants; He becomes reliant, he thinks he needs them ( using gio as an example; He cannot imagine who he is without Gio nearby. He cannot imagine himself in the hierarchy that is set between them both and Dottore without Gio there, because Gio has always been the one to provide a release of tension, even if the relationship the two of them shared was at times very far from healthy; The change of something he sees as being integral to his identity and his place in his little corner of society is something that throws him VERY badly; Rigatello is someone very afraid of any meaningful change because the fear of what comes next and that change leading to potential failure is one that haunts him ) ; They move away from him, and he panics, because he has very little and thus clings desperately to what few things he has; Cue the cycle of seeing that which he 'needs' with someone else, being angry, being frustrated, falling down the rabbit hole of wondering why he isn't worthy, arriving at depression, resparking that frustration, and... repeat.

A lot of his envy spawns almost purely from a place of this frustration-depression loop of wondering why he isn't good enough-- something that ties in heavily with the way he was 'raised', where threats of being scrapped were thrown freely, and any failure could potentially result in his literal destruction.

Wait this wound up being longer than Gios. Whoops.

31. Who are they the most glad to have met?

Okay here's where we ease into me being able to make coherent sentences again bc i'm not bound purely by my muses emotions <3

For Gio, It would be Venti, in more ways than one. First he had technically met Barbatos. The ideal Barbatos gifted to Mondstadt that rubbed off on the freshly-created and quite impressionable Gio; It was Mondstadt and their talk of freedom that lit the little fire that eventually turned into Gio pursuing his autonomy and humanity. Then was the archon; Barbatos gave his vision to him, and without that Gio never would have managed to escape Dottore, and if he didn't currently have it he wouldn't have been able to evade capture for this long. It also served as a constant reminder of Mondstadts ideals -- And not just that, but the special shape that the vision takes has always been a symbol that although Snezhnaya was his home-- Mondstadt was where he belonged. Then came Venti; Someone who made him feel welcomed in Mondstadt when he was initially very nervous about being there. He and Venti became dear friends ( possibly more ) and now that's someone he looks forward to every time he's on his way back to Mondstadt. The city truly feels like home to him now, and that's mostly because of Venti-- and even if his friend doesn't wish to be seen as Barbatos the archon, Gio cannot help the appreciation he feels for those previous actions, nor for the general ideals that Venti / Barbatos inhabit.

For Riga, that would be Lio, no contest. It.. it would take me ten years to explain all of Rigatellos feelings towards Lio there's so much shit at play they mesh so fucking well together their traumas and mentalities are such similar echoes, Lio is literally the only person in the world that Rigatello has felt genuine love and affection for and not in some way panicked and tried to burn the bridge before it could burn him; He feels genuinely safe and happy with Lio, and the fear that constantly haunts him is eased in their presence; He trusts not just Lio but himself, the fear he typically fears when he touches others is gone because they trust him so thoroughly that in the midst of their love it's hard to be afraid of himself. He feels for once that he can be something that protects instead of something that exclusively does damage; He feels cared for, wanted, loved, when all his life he's felt rejected and constantly on the brink of destruction. Where he once was told his wants and thoughts don't matter he has now found someone who cares very much for what he wants and what he thinks and FUCK I have a lot of thoughts about these two.

40. How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

Oh god, here's another thing I can't fully explain.

For Gio: Immensely. Gios current mentality is essentially that if he just closes his eyes and refuses to think about it then he doesn't have to deal with his flaws, and if anyone points them out he can just get mad about it and avoid them until he dies because he does. not. want. to. think. about. it. He HATES feeling bad, he hates feeling negatively about himself, he doesn't... know how to genuinely change things about himself; And I think that. That itself can be very much shown in how he treats the fact that he's not human? A person? Yes, he's a fully sentient person with his own thoughts and expressions and free will, a human? Not exactly. He's made out of metal and circuitry and artificial materials, and this is simply a factual statement, its not opinion; But he almost treats it like it is. He sees this idealized version of humanity that he wishes to be a part of but he cannot fathom how he can be apart of it if the core thing about himself isn't changed, but its NOT something he can change; Instead of accepting that, however, and still going on with his goal to pursue his autonomy and humanity despite this, Gio would... honestly rather stick his fingers in his ears and go "lalala" because he doesn't really have the toolset to mentally deal with the contradiction of "I want to be human but I can't". He perceives a need to change that isn't there, and instead of trying to address it he ignores it entirely in hopes that... it'll just stop being an issue that he needs to address with himself at some point. The same mentality applies to a lot of his flaws. Does he know hes being avoidant of his problems? Does he know that it's going to cause more issues in the future? He does. But he can't even address it with himself because it makes him feel bad, let alone with someone else who could actually provide him with skills that he needs to change his behaviors and mentality.

For Riga: Okay he genuinely gets a shorter paragraph this time because in short? Rigatello doesn't care. Admittedly he kind of wears his flaws on his sleeve. He's a "says it right on the tin" kind of guy most of the time, where he's typically mostly open about the less positive parts of himself-- If not exaggerating them as a means of keeping people away. There are of course the flaws that he hides due to them stemming from traumas, and his general desire to hide all things relating to his personal thoughts and feelings-- But this in and of itself could be perceived as a flaw, though one very unexplored considering Lio is his first close relationship with another person where he's been in any form open about his own thoughts and feelings, away from the influence of Dottore or the Fatui.

Rigatello does have... slightly less healthy perception of what counts as flaws in himself, though, such as having his own thoughts and emotions. He perceives his traumas as weakness, and weakness is a flaw, to him-- So too, then, are his traumas. He's not sensitive about this in the sense that Gio is where he's willfully ignoring something he's doing wrong; Riga doesn't... know that this isn't a good mentality. He.

Riga is kind of hard to explain this regard because of how severely impacted Rigatello is by the traumas hes endured, the people he was 'raised' by, and the current lifestyle that he leads. His emotional understanding is extremely limited and always has been, and I'm not entirely sure how to put it in coherent wording; Because typically when I try to talk about Riga and emotions it devolves into word vomit because his thoughts are just... nonsense screaming pain mush that he doesn't know how to cope with so he tells himself to toughen up, shoves it in the closet, and goes on with his day until he can lay down at night and have a meltdown--

E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

Honestly? The general rule of thumb is that I don't typically write people that I myself would get along with, if only because I know way too much about my own characters and their flaws? When. I look at people that I get along with, its primarily people who are patient enough to deal with my memory issues and my general lets say... low iq, to be nice. They're mostly laid back people who don't give too much of a shit one way or the other, but are friendly and fun to talk to because they have interesting ideas to contribute to a conversation, give room for others to contribute, and don't mind a bit of chaos when things inevitably devolve.

When I look at the characters I write... They all have some sort of flaw that directly contradicts the core things I typically find in someone I get along well with?

Gio is someone who I think I could get along with for a while; But inevitably his flaws, his distress regarding those flaws, and his subsequent refusal to acknowledge them in any meaningful form would inevitably stress me out and it would start to get tiring.

Bluntly put Riga is scary and I feel like I'd be stressed out 24/7 that I'm going to irritate him... And his general mindset of emphasizing his own flaws to push people away would just make me angry and I'd probably wind up letting him isolate himself because, having once been someone who was very much that way, I no longer deal well with that degree of self-pitying behavior b/c it pisses me off.

Outside of this blog, Ku Shen and I could probably get along pretty well, but I think the issue is that he's a massive introvert who would go Weeks in-between texting, and I have the memory of a goldfish and i'd inevitably find myself in a position where i have a text from him that's been waiting for me to answer for the past week and I'm too nervous to reply because I feel awkward being like 'hi i have untreated adhd sorry', and then suddenly three months has passed and I just can never talk to this man again.

...I'm going to include my Morax on here as well even though it's blog isn't super active; Look I might actually be able to chill with Morax if only because we vibe in either 'i am listening to you ramble for 3 straight hours with occasional questions or commentary' or 'we have both been dead fucking silent for the past 3 hours' and these are both my ideal ways to exist in someone elses presence. Also I feel like it'd wanna do fun shit and likes going on walks or smth. 10/10 I think I could get along with Morax.

H) What trait do you admire most?

Ah fuck okay. Uh. For Gio... I admire his optimism and hope. I consider myself to be a generally hopeful person but I'm not typically the kind of like... ~ * direct action * ~ person, and Gio VERY MUCH IS in most regards. He's generally super fucking ambitious and if he WANTS something he will GET IT and you cannot STOP HIM and I just wish I had that level of

I. Dedication II. Energy III. Optimism in actually completing the goal

For Riga? I guess it would be his general tenacity and endurance. He goes through. A lot of shit. Constantly. And he just keeps trudging on forward without pause. He does what he needs to do, and if you get in the way of him and what he needs to get done, then he'll make you fucking regret it. Top tier shit 10/10 good for him.

#❄ ⤚ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴊᴏᴋᴇs ( ooc. ) ⇾#❄ ⤚ ᴛᴏss ᴀ ᴍᴏʀᴀ ( inbox. ) ⇾#oh... my fucking god this is a long post im so sorry

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callunavulgari · 4 years ago

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fic tag meme

I guess I was kind of inadvertently tagged by @wildehacked because they said to do it if you wanted to, and well, I was bored and needed something to do while watching Watcher Weekly+ so!

Name: Heather! Otherwise known as callunavulgari on all platforms. Except fanfiction.net. I have not gone back there to even consider changing it.

Fandoms: I am currently only actively writing fic for Buzzfeed Unsolved and The Adventure Zone (because I have no self control and finished the finale today). That said, I’m pretty actively involved in The Untamed, Buzzfeed Unsolved, The Magnus Archives, Hades, and Persona 5. But I also delve back into old fandoms constantly, so it’s really hard to say. Tropes: Enemies to lovers is my absolute favorite trope in the entire world. In fact, I think the only thing I like MORE than your garden variety enemies to lovers is FRIENDS to enemies to lovers. Because like, you’ve got the UST but you’ve also got ANGST and YEARNING. I’m just weak to it.

I also really like fusion AUs, soulmate AUs, and canon-adjacent AUs where everything is the same except one or both parties is some kind of monster. Creature? I love myself a creature feature. Bonus points if it’s got political intrigue and killer world building. I’m sure there are others, but eh.

Fic I spent most time on: Probably either Rubatosis or when the wild grasses weave.

Rubatosis was a Percy Jackson fic where Percy and Annabeth fall in love with Nico, aka the personification of death. Also, Annabeth is a serial killer. It is single-handedly my favorite thing I’ve ever written and I wrote it in a handful of months for the 2014 PJO Big Bang.

where the wild grasses weave, on the other hand, was a Spirited Away/Kingdom Hearts fic that I wrote for the Kingdom Hearts Big Bang like half a decade ago. It was an idea that I’d been toying with for awhile and the Big Bang gave me an excuse to finally do it. It explores the darker themes of Spirited Away and honestly, I’ve been meaning to go back and tinker with it for awhile because there are definitely parts that could be shaped up better.

Fic I spent least time on: Probably all the really short prompt fics that I’ve posted between now and 2010.

Longest fic: Also when the wild grasses weave, which is almost 43k. And if you know me, that’s a full 30k longer than the usual things I go for.

Shortest fic: nowhere to run is an Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier fanfiction that I wrote about a year after First Class came out in 2012. It is FORTY words and was written for a tumblr three-sentence meme. It was definitely only three sentences, but somehow managed to get 25 kudos and 5 comments anyway.

Most hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks: Top kudos/bookmarks/hits: i don't believe in fairy tales (but i believe in you and me), which was written on September 5th 2014 and is just over 3k of Derek accidentally getting a glimpse of Stiles’ penis. On his phone. It is the dick pic fic and it has 5239 kudos, 712 bookmarks, and 81,838 hits. I feel like the fact that this is my most popular fic should be upsetting since it took me like an hour to write. Top comments: Que Sera, Sera, which was written on June 14th 2014 and is almost 4k. It’s the second part of my Teen Wolf/Addams Family fusion and has 146 comments (most of which are people and not me, because I don’t typically respond to comments, which is a horrible failing on my part). Favorite fic you’ve written: I actually have an Author's Favorites list on ao3, which needs pared down horribly because it’s got a bunch of really old fic that has not aged particularly well. Rubatosis is probably my favorite? Again, it’s definitely the one I’m proudest of. wake up in a city that never sleeps was another PJO ot3 fic that I wrote where Percy is Nico’s TA and is also pretty up there. I do genuinely love the Teen Wolf/Addams fusion. take me to church is one of my favorite Teen Wolf fics, mostly because it’s the soft epilogue that I wanted out of the show.

and i'm always tired, but never of you is a Bright Sessions ot3 fic where Sam and Mark cross paths with Damien years later and I’m really attached to that one. I don’t know. I go back and read these things sometimes and I remember that my writing isn’t like pulling nails all the time. That sometimes it’s really very good.

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: A couple of the older Big Bang fics I would love to go back and rewrite just because when rereading I can tell where I was running out of time or where something should have been cut but wasn’t so I could pad the wordcount. I do eventually want to write at least one more part of the Teen Wolf/Addams series. And I kind of want to write a coda for that Bright Sessions ot3 that I mentioned.

Share a bit of a WIP:

Part of the Buzzfeed Unsolved tattoo AU that I’ve been working on since uh, Christmas. Whoops.

He’s getting ready to text the guy back to let him know that he’ll have to book another appointment when the bell sounds from the front of the door and someone spills through the doorway.

And look, Ryan had gone into this appointment with expectations. Four weeks ago, when the guy had first emailed inquiring about booking an appointment, Ryan had asked him what exactly he was looking for. He’d asked the usual questions, all pretty standard. Style, colors, if he had a preference when it came to the artist, if he had a hard limit on price.

An hour later, Ryan found himself typing the sentence, ‘so when you say puppet…’

Ryan doesn’t really know what he’d expected. He’d done a couple marionettes. Faceless pinnochios. Skeletons dangling from razor wire. A character from Coraline. It was very ain’t no strings on me, complete with shadowy hands puppeting the faceless silhouettes. Creepy, but you know. Kind of cool.

Precisely ten minutes after he hit send, the guy had ruined all of his expectations by typing back, ‘No, man. Like a muppet.’

He’d even included an attachment. So naturally, Ryan clicked on it.

The creature that looked back at him was monstrous, like a cross between Elmo and the Cookie Monster, its empty eyes dead and staring. It was wearing an outfit that made Ryan think of Indiana Jones, complete with a tiny hat and a miniature fanny pack. On anything else, the little outfit might be cute.

As Ryan was pondering how to politely pass the job off to Mari, another email came through. This one, thankfully, did not include another attachment. The body of the email was blank. The subject line read simply: ‘He’s called The Professor.’

#heather says what #heather writes #have a thing because i'm bored #this backfired because now i want to write but don't have the time

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fyexo · 5 years ago

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191016 Breaking Down the SuperM Phenomenon: The K-Pop Debut Group With the No. 1 Album in America

When K-pop super label SM Entertainment was deciding where to launch its new all-star boy band, it settled on an emerging growth market for the genre: the U.S. Now at the top of the Billboard charts, the group may have revealed a path for other Korean acts to follow.

K-pop fandom in America is an increasingly accessible way of life, but never has the industry catered to U.S. fans as directly as it did in Hollywood this month. In early October, new seven-member boy group SuperM made their official international debut at Capitol Records, notably choosing to focus on the American market from day one. Compiled from several established SM Entertainment acts—SHINee, EXO, NCT 127, and WayV—and created in partnership with Capitol, the all-star supergroup took over Los Angeles, shutting down Hollywood streets for their first showcase and popping up everywhere from billboards and posters to an appearance on The Ellen DeGeneres Show.

SuperM’s self-titled EP dropped on October 4, and the group promptly made history as the first debut Korean act to hit no. 1 on the Billboard 200 Albums Chart—they are the only K-pop group other than BTS to reach the top spot. To those unfamiliar with the industry, it may seem like SuperM came out of nowhere, but the group was constructed from some of SM’s most popular boy groups for a reason—they brought with them a dedicated legion of fans. SuperM’s immediate sales success could reveal a path to follow for other K-pop groups hoping to make it in America.

SuperM’s first week of U.S. promotion was designed with their established fans in mind, and there were plenty to be found in L.A. alone. The weekend began with a live Q&A broadcast from Capitol Records, during which the group answered Twitter questions, interacted with fans, and watched their new music video from casual seats in the audience. Then they closed down Hollywood for a live performance on the following Saturday, performing three of their new songs for a crowd of thousands on a giant stage built outside Capitol Tower. And on Sunday—once they’d been deposited practically on my doorstep—it was time to get to know the boys in real time.

When I walked into the interview room at Capitol Records, I was greeted by raucous hellos and bursts of recognition from the seven members of SuperM: SHINee’s Taemin, EXO’s Baekhyun and Kai, NCT 127’s Taeyong and Mark, and WayV’s Ten and Lucas. No, we’re not longtime BFFs, nor had I interviewed them before; the group had been inexplicably seated directly behind me in the press section for the first viewing of their “Jopping” music video a few days before. After offering to move several times, dodging photographers, and enduring a series of increasingly ridiculous interactions, I finally gave up and appreciated my literal front-row seat for SuperM’s video premiere. Despite my best efforts to make sure they could actually see their hard work play on the big screen, several members—Baekhyun especially—became extremely well acquainted with the back of my head.

On Sunday, it was clear that they were slightly less familiar with the front of it. As I got set up, the guys chatted among themselves in Korean, laughing quietly. It was only when I heard Mark (born in Canada, and the group’s most fluent English speaker) ask, “Wait, should I translate?” that I looked up and realized I was on the receiving end of a table full of amused gazes. “Are you talking about me?” I asked. Group leader, eldest member, and unofficial comic relief Baekhyun nodded mischievously and gestured to Mark—no matter that there were several professional translators in the room—who said, “They’re asking whether you were at the afterparty yesterday.” I replied that I hadn’t known there was one—“Sick invite, though!” I added. When Mark sheepishly relayed my answer, Baekhyun erupted out of his seat with a shout of indignation, which quickly turned into an embarrassed bow.

I tried to start the official interview, but Baekhyun refused to move on until he figured out how he knew me, if not from the afterparty. Mark helped me explain, and when Baekhyun realized I was the one awkwardly slouching in front of him so that he could see his own music video, he decided there was no recovering from our rough start. “Sorry, I’ll go!” he said in English, dramatically shoving away from the table and pretending to walk out with a flippant wave. The exchange was scored by giggles from the rest of the group—a constant soundtrack to just about everything Baekhyun does.

He returned with a grin, and Mark got things back on track—already a familiar scenario from the first month of promotion, as the youngest member of SuperM stepped up into his role as the unofficial English voice of the group. The 20-year-old’s original awe of his older, more experienced groupmates has been an ongoing narrative during the first few weeks of their debut, but it’s hard to imagine him as shy or intimidated now. Many fans may still think of Mark as the endearingly goofy NCT youngster of years past, but SuperM has brought out a new side of him—confident, eloquent, and thoughtful. As their primary English speaker, he was under a lot of pressure during the group’s first week in the U.S., but he said he left the anxiety in Korea.

“You always worry the most before the actual thing happens, so I guess I was worried before we came to America,” Mark said. “But once I was here, I realized that we’ve all worked so hard. To see everyone learn even the shortest English lines took my worries away.”

The members of SuperM said they’re invested in learning English because they want to communicate with American fans, but fans aren’t the only ones appreciative of their hard work. SM Entertainment founder Lee Soo Man attended Thursday’s Q&A, serving as SuperM’s biggest hype man. Every time a non-fluent member attempted a sentence in English—which was impressively often, for their first U.S. appearance—Lee erupted in whoops from the audience. That energy extended through the first live “Jopping” viewing, as Lee sat with and practically tackled the boys during standout moments in the video. It’s no surprise that Lee has made his support painfully obvious—they’re his golden boys, and he has a lot riding on this venture. Providing a little hype is perhaps the least he can do.

Despite the fact that many of SuperM’s members have never worked together in a group setting, most of them have known each other for years. Longtime best friends Taemin and Kai are the main dancers of their respective groups, and widely considered two of the best dancers active in the industry; it’s not the first time they’ve collaborated, but it’s their first time working together as fellow group members, which inevitably ups the stakes. In the room, I asked both of them, sitting side-by-side like two perfectly coiffed peas in a pod, whether they’ve learned anything new about each other now that they’re groupmates. They turned to each other simultaneously and seemed to be at an utter loss. “We know everything, right?” Kai asked. Taemin agreed; both were smiling, but clearly serious. “They’re so close,” Mark told me. Everyone nodded.

“We’ve known each other for such a long time, there’s nothing new to learn,” Kai said in Korean. “But if I had to add something … we’ve been friends for such a long time, but we’ve never worked together as artists. We’ve had separate groups and careers, so coming together on the same team like this has changed the way we communicate, because we’re teammates now. We’re not just friends, and we’re not just giving each other advice, but we share the same goal and create team synergy. So that’s something that’s changed with our dynamic.”

Before SuperM officially debuted, theories abounded that Taemin would be named the group leader—a designated role in nearly every K-pop group that amounts to an official team captain of sorts. At 27, Baekhyun is one year older than Taemin, but the latter has been active in the industry longer and has an impressive solo career to boot. In fact, early teasers seemed to paint Taemin as the architect of SuperM. But Taemin appeared to have no interest in the role, and when Baekhyun was officially announced as the leader, it became clear that Baekhyun’s primary focus would be on keeping everyone happy and relaxed at all times.

Thus far, I’d been addressing different members at random, trying to follow the natural flow of conversation, and I’d unintentionally ignored the leader’s corner of the table after our initial chaotic beginning. As I swiveled toward Baekhyun, he made an exaggerated “Finally!” expression, rolling his shoulders, leaning forward, and sucking in a deep breath as if he was about to hit one of those iconic high notes. But no, this time it was just a steadfast commitment to the bit. The other members craned their heads, already grinning, as he pretended to psych himself up for my incoming question. I asked Baekhyun whether he had any newfound empathy for Suho, the leader of his other group, EXO, now that he is a leader himself.

“I can’t really relate, because I feel like I don’t actually do much,” Baekhyun said in Korean. “My biggest role here within this team is to keep the spirits high, and that’s easy for me—because I’m usually in high spirits myself, and it’s really easy for me to do that with these guys.”

Fellow EXO member Kai laughed at Baekhyun’s over-the-top delivery, but piped up in disagreement. “I’ve been in EXO with Baekhyun for a long time, but before he was just a member. Now, with him as a leader, I definitely see the difference. I can see that he has more sense of responsibility for what he does, and he really goes out of his way to care for each of the members. When it’s hard for us to voice our opinions or complaints, Baekhyun makes sure that everyone’s opinions are relayed, and that everything is communicated. He doesn’t realize he’s good, but I’m 100 percent satisfied with his leadership.”

Language barriers aside, Kai was feeling talkative—our Korean translator was forced to scribble intricate outlines to keep up with several of his elaborate answers. At one point, Kai told a story about shooting the “Jopping” music video, complete with dramatic gestures and poses.

“It was my first time in a helicopter,” he said. “They told me it was going to fly really low, and I thought I could handle it. But all of a sudden, they put me up in the helicopter, and it flew around the area four times. The director and cameraman yelled, ‘Keep your eyes open! Have good facial expressions! Fight the wind!’” Kai imitated the shouting crew members, then leveled his signature intense gaze at me in a re-creation of the action-star pose he was going for.

It was a lot.

“I tried my best, and kept my eyes open for as long as possible, and when I came back down, there was sand in my eyes and I couldn’t open them. I thought, ‘OK, I did a good job,’ but when I saw the final cut, none of the footage was used! Nothing at all!” He burst out laughing as Lucas clapped him on the back. Ever the optimist, Kai continued. “It was still a good experience. It’s motivated me to work harder until I can ride a helicopter again—maybe from Korea to America.”

The younger boys seemed impressed by his goal, but Taemin was skeptical. “Wouldn’t it take too long?” he asked. Baekhyun had other concerns: “From Korea to America? You’d get shot down with a missile.”

Ten and Lucas had their own iffy encounters with heavy machinery on the “Jopping” set. There were no helicopter rides for them, but they posed on a giant tank in Dubai in the summer. Lucas summed it up nicely. “So hot!”

Ten elaborated: “We couldn’t really touch the tanks, but we needed to pretend that we were cool on top of the tank.” He struck a pose as if he was leaning against the combat vehicle, then flipped back one stylish sleeve to gesture at his elbow. “I got burned a little,” he said. “But it was pretty cool. It’s not every day you get to sit on top of a tank and like, take a selfie.”

Ten, born in Thailand, collects languages like he collects earrings, and they were all on full display during our chat. In a light, lilting accent, Ten said that his (near-perfect) English hadn’t gotten much practice during the past few years in Korea and China, as he and Lucas promoted with NCT and WayV in quick succession, and he’s still self-conscious about using it around native speakers in the U.S.

That said, Ten loves getting the opportunity to learn about new cultures and languages. “If you know multiple cultures, it’s easier for you to express yourself in performance. You learn more about dancing, singing, and expressing. It makes you grow and mature, I think. You don’t need to care about people’s race. No matter what, you can empathize with them. That’s the most important thing.”

It’s not immediately obvious from his answer, but Ten was demonstrating his aptitude for learning in real time. According to fellow reporter Elizabeth de Luna, who was helping record the interview from the other side of the room, Ten had leaned over to Mark earlier as I asked Baekhyun about having newfound empathy for his EXO group leader. “What does ‘empathy’ mean?” Ten asked Mark. After a whispered discussion, Ten nodded and returned to attention. Then, just a few minutes later, he inserted the word perfectly into his own sentence. So goes the quadrilingual life–and, to a certain extent, the future of K-pop as an ever-evolving, increasingly global industry.

To wit, Ten and Mark aren’t the only SuperM members juggling several languages. WayV’s Lucas is Chinese, born in Hong Kong, and he’s actively working on his English and Korean. Still, he doesn’t have any trouble communicating with his groupmates, four of whom are native Koreans. “Anything can be overcome by music,” Lucas told me in Chinese. “Cultural differences do exist, but music gets rid of all that. I just use music to simplify everything, and I don’t think too much about the differences.”

It’s a sweet sentiment, but music can’t do it all—Lucas and the rest of the boys devote immense effort and concentration to even simple interviews like this one. When I first posed a question to Lucas via the Korean translator, there was a flurry of activity and laughter as the game plan was decided upon: First, Kai suggested in Korean that Lucas answer in Chinese, and Lucas turned with his ever-present smile to address a Chinese translator who was seated against the wall. Ten was then recruited to help from the other side of the room (“I will try, but my Chinese is not that great!” he chirped) and Lucas just leaned back in his rolling chair, swiveling his head around, and looking massively entertained by the commotion. In the end, Lucas gave his answer—with various interjections from Ten—to the Chinese translator, who relayed it to the Korean translator, who then gave it to me in English. It was like a game of multilingual hot potato. Lucas was rewarded for his efforts with scattered applause and high fives from Kai and Baekhyun. The group effort, energetic as it was, is painfully representative of the extra effort K-pop groups have to expend in order to break out in the U.S. market.

NCT 127 leader Taeyong is no stranger to the multilingual interview scene. As the face of the NCT megaunit, he’s worked with group members from China, Thailand, Canada, the U.S., and just about everywhere in between. He’s also unique in that he’s the only SuperM member with a producing credit on the EP. When I asked Taeyong to talk about his work on “No Manners,” which is basically a song about savagely dumping someone, I received a brief panicked look. “Speak from your heart,” Baekhyun suggested. Taeyong did his best. “At first, it was difficult to understand what the song was trying to say, so I tried to make my rap into a story to help listeners understand. I’m not saying that breaking up is always the answer, but a bad breakup is … ” he trailed off, and looked around for an assist. Baekhyun stepped in, saying that the song is about how sometimes it’s best to cut a relationship off before it hits rock bottom.

In our current context, it was hard to imagine Taeyong as an expert on breakups of any kind. He’d been engaged and friendly, but very quiet—mostly just watching the other members speak with wide-eyed attention. As he sat tiny in his seat, in an oversized T-shirt and fluffy purple hair, it was difficult to reconcile him with the fierce, steely-eyed Taeyong of the stage. Next to him, Taemin was quiet and serene as well, but no less attentive—just beaming cherubically as he sipped on his Starbucks. Such is the duality of some of K-pop’s most arresting performers.

After all, no matter how transcendent they can seem on stage—they’re called “idols” for a reason—at the end of the day, they’re just guys. It’s something they reminded us of during their showcase stage for “Super Car,” when it was revealed that the official choreography is centered around hitting the woah.

As soon as I brought up the viral dance move, I was faced with an entire room of boys hitting the woah, like it was impossible for them to talk about it without doing it. Lucas jumped out of his seat to put his whole body into it. “It’s just a feeling!” he exclaimed in English. The guys persuaded me to try hitting the woah a few times myself—unfortunately, it appeared to be a feeling I couldn’t quite grasp, but they very sweetly pretended I nailed it.

Always ready with the polished take, Mark weighed in. “We feel like ‘Super Car’ has a really trendy vibe to it. We wanted to include a movement that the American audience would find familiar. The woah has been popular for awhile now, but it’s all a cycle–it started in America and took a while to make its way over to us, so we brought it back. It just made sense for us to perform it in America.”

American music fans may think it would have made more sense for a group to incorporate the woah a few years ago when it first became popular here, but Mark is self-aware enough to know that it takes time for things like this to make the rounds in Korea. Besides, we all have a teenage cousin who refuses to stop dabbing—viral dances don’t come with expiration dates. Incorporating the woah into “Super Car” seems less like an attempt to cater to American audiences, and more a statement that this is what K-pop looks like in its current state—even if SuperM knows that the woah is passé in American culture, K-pop groups still love it. So, by god, they’re going to hit it as hard as they can.

“Super Car” was one of the three songs the group performed at their debut performance on a massive stage outside Capitol Records. It was a highly anticipated moment—for a group made nearly entirely of idols known for their dance skills, the first live show felt like a make-or-break moment for SuperM.

No one should have worried. SuperM’s first performance proved that they know how to play to each member’s specific strengths, numerous as they are. Need a standout high note? Baekhyun and Taemin are on it. Time for a rapid-fire dance solo? Ten is your man. What about a blue-steel gaze directly into the camera? Well, options vary, but Kai and Taeyong have turned it into an art form. Mark and Lucas have thrived both onstage and off, as the official crowd-pleasing charmers. It’s an all-star formula, and it’s no surprise that it has been a success. But the extent of that success in the U.S.—the blanket press coverage, the Billboard chart record—has exceeded expectations. SuperM’s immediate impact, both on the charts and in the history books, raises the question: If SM can beat the odds by debuting a new group in the U.S. market, who will follow? Other K-pop labels may now focus on America from the get-go, or create their own collaborative groups, following SuperM’s lead.

That, of course, is not SuperM’s concern. As we wrapped up the interview and said our goodbyes, Baekhyun dragged Mark over to apologize for him once more, and dramatically resolved our short-lived beef—as any good leader would. I told them I’d see them again on their upcoming U.S. tour, which kicks off in Fort Worth, Texas, in November.

To the person who will be sitting behind me at said concert, apologies in advance. You’ve got a tough act to follow.

source: Kate Halliwell @ The Ringer

#exo #baekhyun #kai #t: info #album: superm

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quitetommy · 5 years ago

Text

a collection of us

this is NOT edited and im sorry whoops!! but i hope yall enjoy! theres no warnings for this bc its all fluff :’)

A collection of adorably soft moments from the Holland household (as seen by Y/N, Tom, and others)

[person A and person B pressing their faces together sleepily, not even kissing, just resting their foreheads together, noses brushing, breathing each other in.]

The day was no longer upon her, the sun was far away now. The window next to her was opened, the moonlight and wind creeping in. It was late, far too late for her. Normally, she’d be fast asleep dreaming about the day her pretty boy would be back. Why was she still up? Well, today was that day; today was the day her handsome boy would be coming back. She would finally smell his gorgeous smell again, hear his pretty laugh, look into those pretty brown eyes she loved so much.

It was hell being without him, sure, she had her own things going on and she was able to live without him but that didn’t mean she wanted to. He was her boy and she’d do anything to be with him. She’d do anything for that boy. He could ask her to help him rob a bank and she’d be driving the getaway car, for whatever he wanted she was there. And fortunately, he was her ride or die, as well. She needed a buddy? He was there with laughs and sappy movies to watch. She needed a shoulder to cry on? He was there with his shoulder and tissues and many, many hugs. She needed an alibi? He was already thinking of all the things they were supposedly doing to save her from the many troubling things that would snatch her away from him.

Point is they were each other’s one. You know, each other’s soulmate. The pair put the whole ‘red string of fate’ thing to shame. They were the ones that everyone wanted to be. He was the perfect boy that every girl wanted and she was the pretty girlfriend that everyone wanted on their team. They were it for each other, it was that simple.

So, two-thirty in the morning, and here she was wide awake. Her hair was messily up in a bun, face free of any makeup and she had on one of his many hoodies purposely left behind. This was his favorite look, every time he saw her like this, he knew he knew he had made the right choice picking her. A cup of green tea was steaming on the side table (although Tom always made it better than she could- must be the British in him), and she had one of her many ratty old poetry books open on her lap. Her eyes and brain soaked up the perfectly strung together sentences while her ears tuned into the quiet music playing from the shitty speaker across the room.

It was quiet for awhile, nothing disturbing the girl other than her music and page turning-- that was until she heard the familiar sound of keys being thrusted into the lock before unlocking. His pretty girl heard the door open and then shut, bags hitting the floor, before she heard his angelic voice call out. “Darlin’, you awake?”

Jumping up and throwing her already read book somewhere, Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. His voice was everything- everything she missed, everything she loved, everything she wanted. She, of course, had heard it over the phone for the course of the past few months, but this was different. This was real. This was only right outside in the living room, this was a clear voice, no static following. This was her pretty boy.

Squealing, she made her way out to him, arms opened wide. His arms were open, too, like he was waiting for her to occupy the space in them. Hell, of course he was. He hadn’t held his girl in months and he refused to go another second without feeling her. Once she was close enough, he closed his toned arms around her and spun around, pulling excited laughs out of his girl.

“Hi pretty girl,” his voice was loud in her ear, but she didn’t care. He was right here, after months and months of being away.

“Hi, Tommy.”

Euphoric. That’s what he was feeling, god, he had missed his pretty girl. Her fingers curled into his hair, pulling his face down to hers, pressing a short series of kisses to his surprisingly soft lips (they were always so damn soft, and she wasn’t ever sure how, she had never seen him use any fucking chapstick). This went on for a few seconds longer, each putting trying to put all their love into said kisses, before their chests started to burn from lack of oxygen. Neither wanted to pull away, Tom whining when Y/N finally did. But after a quick breath, he dove back in, wanting to be close to her. Smiles came in between their kisses, eventually small gasps leaving them both. Their kisses were long and left the other wanting more. Both Tom and Y/N’s arms were pulling each other close, holding them there like they were going to disappear.

Pushing herself on her toes, Y/N rested her head in the crook of her boy’s neck, breathing in his scent. “I missed you.”

He smiled, his heart warming his chest up. He was sure that she could hear his heartbeat. It was so loud, louder than he wished, but he couldn’t care any less because he could recall a time when Y/N had told him she loved hearing his heartbeat.

In the most loving way, he pulled away from her, placing his forehead against hers, smiling. The tiredness only now hitting them. He giggled and placed a soft kiss to her nose after she yawned. Their noses were touching, eyes closed in content. “Missed you too, my love.”

[person A and person B falling asleep together with their heads on the other’s shoulder/head in the backseat of the car while their friend is driving.]

Besides each other, the most important thing to both Tom and Y/N was family. And within family was friends, and they each tried to spend as much time as they could with said family. Which is why Tom and Y/N were both currently in the back of a cramped car.

A car that was headed two hours away to a very pretty campsite with lots of outside activities. They were all taking a break from their busy schedules to have quality time together. In front was Tom’s best friend, Harrison, and his girlfriend Angel.

Haz and Angel had been dating for a little over a year (a little short of Tom and Y/N’s long two years), and they were loved just as much as the couple in the back.

The sun was just barely peeking over the distance, making the sky a pretty pink and orange collage. The radio clock read 6:43AM and Y/N was seriously reconsidering this trip.

Music was softly playing from the car speakers and Y/N was very grateful for the stop for coffee they had made only twenty minutes earlier. The flavored drink was happily making its way down her throat when Harrison finally spoke.

“So, I was looking at this place up online, Tom, and they recommended a course only ten minutes away!” Harrison’s free hand was on his pretty girlfriend's leg. Both girlfriends laughed, sharing the funny fact that they were in love with complete dorks. Tom’s eyes widened and a smile broke out onto his face, “Sick! We can go tonight when we’re settled?”

“Sure, man. What are you two planning on doing?” Harrison directed the second part of his response at his girl. Taking a sip of her iced drink, she shrugged looking at her friend in the backseat.

“Probably just lay out,” the younger of the two suggested, she was silently hoping that Angel was content with that because all Y/N wanted to do was get tan. It had been so long since she tanned that her lovely boyfriend had started calling her casper. It was not fun. The girl desperately needed some sun. When Angel smiled and nodded, Y/N started to get excited at the thought of the warm sun touching her skin.

It was then that Harrison had decided that had been enough conversation and he turned up the radio. The song that first played was one of the overplayed ones that everyone collectively hated but no one ever had the heart to change. It was extremely annoying, but Y/N found herself humming along and tapping her fingers to the beat on the back of Tom’s hand. They had been holding hands for awhile now and he had brought her hand up to his mouth to leave a soft kiss there, when she started singing.

The sun was still rising and the couple up front was still quietly talking when Y/N felt Tom’s head fall onto her shoulder. Both of their coffees were long gone and they were not feeling the effects. Instead, they were growing increasingly sleepier, obviously Tom being the most tired seeing as how his eyes were closed and his baby snores were escaping his mouth.

His pretty girl smiled upon seeing this. She was happy that he was sleeping, he never got enough. She quietly watched him sleep, the soft music that was playing soothing her nerves. Her heart warmed at the sleepy boy, he snuggled closer to her. Her eyes roamed over the small amount of freckles on his nose and the way that his long eyelashes curved over his cheekbones. She watched as his chest rose and fell with each breath, she watched as his fingers subconsciously tightened around hers.

And unbeknownst to them, Harrison was watching them through the mirror, smiling as Y/N rested her head on her sleepy boy, falling asleep herself.

[person B falls asleep in person A’s lap and person A is having a conversation with someone else while stroking person B’s hair.]

Long days were not something that was new to Tom and Y/N. They were both used to the long nights and the even longer nights. Tom’s job was not something that they took for granted but it wasn’t helpful when Tom barely got any sleep. Y/N, being the amazing girl she is, was constantly asking him if he was feeling alright, if he was getting enough sleep; eating enough. He loved that about her; how much she cared for those she loved.

Tom loved his job, sure, but he hated how easily overworked he got. He sometimes just wished he could spend all day with his pretty girl. He wanted nothing more than to be with his girl and stay in bed all day. He would be happy just being with her, no matter what they were doing. As long as he was with his girl he would be perfect.

Just like now, he was beyond tired and he missed his girl so, so fucking much. So here he was, laying in his girls arms, head in her lap. Harrison was over, happily talking to Y/N about everything and anything. The television was playing in the background at a low volume. Tom’s head was on Y/N’s leg and his body was stretched out on the rest of the couch. He was comfortably in an old hoodie and sweats, all matched up with some fuzzy socks his girl had bought him for his birthday. When he first pulled the spiderman covered socks out of the bag he laughed, a little confused on why he had received socks, but when he tried them out he was in heaven, gaining many “i told you so”s from his girlfriend.

Tom’s hand was placed on Y/N’s exposed knee, thumb rubbing lovingly. Y/N’s and Harrison’s voice was melting together, blurring in his very tired mind. He felt his girl lean down, lips pressing on his temple before finding his ear and whispering, “It’s okay, pretty boy, go to sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake up.” He hummed in response, letting sleep overtake him. He was so, so happy being there with his girl, while she rubbed his curls away from his face while she talked with their friend. He would be happy here with her for the rest of his life and he was completely content with this fact.

[person A helping person B dry and brush their hair after a shower.]

Long and hard days were not something that only Tom owned. They were something Y/N also occasionally had. When her long days came around, she was more whiny than her boy. She would stomp in and throw her things down before finding and latching herself to her pretty guy. She would moan and groan until he dropped everything and gave her the attention she wanted. She would giggle and smile as Tom kissed all over her face. She’d pull him to the couch and snuggle up against him, eyes closed tightly in hopes of shutting away the whole word.

She’d frown and cry until Tom would push her hair away from her face, softly asking, “Wanna talk about it, darlin’?”

She’d never want to. She would just shake her head and say, “Just want you.”

He’d smile and he’d feel his heart warm. God, he loved her. He would do anything to see her smile, even if that meant letting her attach herself to him like they were one person. “How ‘bout a shower? Hmm? Might make you feel better.”

That’s all it took, a shower and she’d come to her senses and realize that everything was alright and that she was being a little ridiculous(not that Tom cared, though, he wouldn’t care if she was the biggest drama queen around, he’d still love her). During her shower, he would gather up her comfiest clothes, including one of his jumpers that she loved (he even would spray it with his cologne so it smelled like him even more) and he’d place them on the sink where she could easily grab them. Sometimes if it was a bad night, he’d help her into siad clothes, but without fail, every time one of these nights happened he would always brush out her knotted hair. This would calm her nerves and to be honest, he liked playing with her hair. She would sleepily stand in front of the bathroom mirror and he’d comb out her hair while whispering sweet nothings to her or singing softly to her. And without fail, every night, she’d turn on her heal and softly kiss her boy, mumbling a very, very cute “I love you.” and then everything was right in the world because he had her and she had him and that’s all they needed.

@laureharrier @spider-bitten @bi-writer-in-the-dark @marvelouspottering @quacksin @friendscallme-emily @smexylemony @tom-hollands-eyelash @tomblrholland @spidey-pal @lovelyh0lland @spideymood @positiveparker @procrastinatingparker @your-daily-dose-of-fangirl @Bodakcello @sleepybesson @spideyshcllands @its-the-unknownspidey @tomshufflepuff @aestheticgaybish @bellaamarvel87 @peterparker-glee-other @kisses-holland @peterparkersbodyguard @ghostofdrfluke @avengersmarvelsocials @musicgirl234

crossed out means it wont tag ya

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leswansong · 5 years ago

Text

(Late) Ladynoir July: When Tomorrow Comes

Day Ten

[ A03 ]

Word Count: 5K+

AN: I wrote an entire chapter without using the prompt cause I completely forgot about it... WHOOPS.

Adrien stared up at the medium-sized four-story house. He had faint but distant memories of it. They were all happy ones, he knew that because they filled him with warmth and caused his lips to form into a smile. He couldn’t remember who lived there but he recalled having been there with Chloè and with a boy around his age. He couldn’t have been any older than six when this memory occurred and yet he could remember running around in a large room filled with books. The boy had short shaggy hair and amber eyes and when he listened to his mother's wishes, he wore the glass frames he needed to see.

The house before him hadn’t been apart of his list, a list that had ultimately been useless as everyone had either turned him away or not answered his call. He didn’t blame them but it was disappointing. He let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding and swallowed the fear that was rising in his chest. He took a strong and confident step towards the house and the large wooden door. He shakily raised his knuckles to it and knocked.

He heard it echoed throughout the house on the other side as he waited for someone to answer his call. There was some shouting from one of the floors above him before he heard the fast and heavy footsteps of someone running down the steps of a tall staircase. His heart started to race as the person got closer and closer to opening the door. He anxiously looked back at the street he had come from then back at the door. The temptation to leave started to overwhelm him. He took one step away from the door when it opened. Slowly he turned back towards the door. He couldn’t leave now.

“Adrien?” the voice of a young man asked. Adrien recognised that voice. “Is that you?” he asked, squinting his eyes a little.

Adrien’s eyes widened as he realised who it was. “Nino?”

He hadn’t realised that the small boy from his memories was the same one that had been his best friend for many long and boring nights at several royal parties. He had been twelve the last time he had seen him at one of his mothers extravagant and rare parties. He remembered it well. The bouncing of his leg as he waited for the party to start, for guests to arrive so he could greet half of them before he disappeared back to his room and back to his books until his few friends arrived.

He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Nino. He guessed it had happened slowly. Maybe one less party until they stopped. Maybe life got in the way, his schedule also amped up when he was twelve meaning he had less time to spend with friends.

The sudden feeling of a firm hand on his shoulder distracted him from his thoughts. “Quick!” Nino exclaimed, “Before the guards see you.”

He let out a yelp as he was sharply pulled into a darkened room. His back hit the wall and his shoulder cried out in pain. The door he had entered through was slammed shut and his ears picked up on the sound of several locks being clicked into place among the sound of his racing heartbeat.

Slowly his green eyes adjusted to the dark. He took in the sight of the room he was in. Hardly any light was pouring into the room from the heavily curtained windows. The sight reminded him of his own home where they too always had the curtains drawn when the crowds came knocking. The walls from what he could see were a soft beige colour with dark wall panelling giving the house an err of warmth. He continued searching his surroundings as Nino peered through the window.

“How??” Nino asked. “How did you escape an angry mob?”

“It’s a long story and one day I promise to tell you but-” his stomach answered him for him as it growled and called for food. His shot open wide and his cheeks grew bright red from embarrassment.

Nino stared at him before bursting out in bouts of laughter. The sounds of joy eased his anxiety and he soon found himself laughing along with him.

“I think we should get you something to eat first, then maybe some new clothes,” he said pulling at the lapel of the torn and dirty coat he was wearing. “We have got to fix this.”

Adrien smiled and nodded, he really wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying, he was just excited about the prospect of something other than horrible bar soup. As that had been his dinner for the past few nights after finding a purse left beside him on his rooftop bed. He didn’t question where it had come from, he just knew not to spend as much as possible in a short time span.

He followed Nino into the kitchen where he was promptly forced to sit down and food was placed in front of him until he could no longer eat any more.

-x-

A smile spread across her lips at the sight of her best friend walking calmly across the streets below. She bit back the urge to yell down to her friend although she really what she wanted to. She quickly turned back to her trapdoor and descended to her room below and then down the steps towards the ground floor. She threw open the door just as her friend reached it and she wrapped her arms around her much to Alya’s surprise.

“You’re back!” she exclaimed attracting a few passerbys. “When did you get back?”

Alya wrapped her arms around Marinette before pulling back, “Last night,” she replied. “My aunt and my sisters are on their way up north, they’re safe.”

Marinette let out a deep breath. It was good to hear that they were safe.

“We best head inside,” she quickly said as she noticed that several guards were starting to take notice of them.

She pushed open the bakery doors and pulled her inside and away from prying eyes so she could ask more questions.

-x-

Adrien did as he was told and stepped up to the pedestal. Adrien knew this tailor. His skills were extraordinary and that meant expensive. He reluctantly stood still as his measurements were taken.

He had no idea how he was supposed to pay Nino. This was too much but nothing he said made him change his mind. He was stuck with his generosity with no escape. A thought he didn’t like. He hated being in debt to someone that he had no way to repay. First with Ladybug and her amazing bowls of soup. Then Marinette and how she had aided him in his escape and now Nino.

The tailor took his final measurements before returning to his sketchbook to enter them in. He caught a glimpse of the jacket Nino had planned for him, it was good, really good. He could see the fine details and he could almost picture what he would look like with it but it didn’t stop a thought from entering his mind. He couldn’t replay Nino just yet but maybe he could repay her.

“Are-” He started before rewording his sentence, “I know of someone you might be interested in, her skills are quite extraordinary,” he said with a smirk.

-x-

Her mind was in the clouds above her head, her sketchbook lay open beside her and she softly hummed a quiet tune. Her eyes stared across the city, it was becoming a regular occurrence for her. Being Ladybug had slowly allowed her to fall back in love with the view. It used to fill her with hate, disgust and resentment but now… She gradually started to see the beauty in mud streets, the cheerful sounds of music and the soft laughter from people walking past. Hope seemed to be on the rise and the fighting in the streets seemed to be coming to an end. She let out a sigh and gripped the warm cup of tea tighter in her cold hands, she didn’t quite like the taste but it was better than constantly drinking the wine they stored in the cellar.

Sunset was close by, she could tell by the soft breeze that washed its way over her causing her skin to prickle from the cold. The air smelled of rain indicating that it would soon rain. It was nice to spend time on her balcony after an Akuma attack because it was nice and calm and she didn’t have to worry about another one to ruin her peace and quiet time where she liked to design but… Nothing had come to mind. Her brain was normally extremely active and teaming with ideas but today… Nothing. It was a little frustrating but it did ruin her plans slightly.

She exhaled and pulled the letter out. A tailor was interested in her skills, her heart leapt as she reread the letter. His small little shop had been one she had spent hours staring into just to get a peek into the mind behind the amazing designs in the windows. He had set her a task, one that should be easy for her. Design a hat. A Tricorne to be exact. Seems simple enough but it was impossible. She had hundreds of designs for other hats but not that one.

She reluctantly picked up her sketchbook and pencil beside her and headed down to her room where she scooped up her bag. The book and several other art supplies were quickly dumped into it before she headed down the steep steps to the ground floor. She yelled her goodbyes to her parents on her way out the door.

She had no destination in mind, she planned on wandering around until she found somewhere that inspired her.

-x-

Adrien inspected the jacket carefully. After two days of waiting it was finally here. He pulled the coat on atop his new clothes, his arm protested slightly but it was doing better than it had been a few days prior. Rest and food had made sure of that as well as improving his mood. He had yet to return to the small bakery to thank Marinette for her aid but she was atop his list of people to thank.

He ran his fingers along with it. The fabric was soft and had been dyed a deep and vibrant blue, not unlike the ones the soldiers wore but slightly lighter. There was no way he was going to let this one get to the state his other one had been left in. That poor coat had to be thrown out.

He tugged on the coat again before he lifted his head up and into the small mirror hanging on the wall. He stared into it and at himself. In the months he had spent on the streets he had forgotten what he looked like. He knew what Chat Noir looked like, he saw that version of himself almost every day but- he had forgotten what Adrien looked like. His hair was lighter than he remembered, it was more of a soft blond and not the brighter and more golden hair he had as his hero half. His eyes… he knew they had been brighter but they had certainly dulled in those months and large black circles had appeared under his eyes. He looked tired and older than what he had been months ago.

Plagg floated up beside him and inspected his chosen’s new outfit. “You’re looking better, Kid, it won’t be long before you’re one hundred percent again,” he said, a small smile was plastered on his face causing Adrien to smile slightly as well.

He nodded his head in response before he scooped up the small coin purse he had discarded on his nightstand the night before after Nino had insisted on taking him drinking the night before.

His head still pounded slightly from the night's events and he had found it incredibly hard to even make it down the many steps to the dining room for breakfast at Nino’s instance once again but breakfast was nice. He got to meet the rest of the Lahiffe family. Nino’s mother and brother were sweet and kind. They kept piling food onto his plate until he was certain that he would explode from the large amount of food.

Nino’s father on the other hand… Adrien got the impression that he wasn’t welcome when he was around. He was the strong silent type just like his own father. Adrien kept his head down and tried his best to be respectful whenever the older man was around. He didn’t want to push his luck and end up on the street again so soon.

With a sigh, Adrien inspected himself in the mirror one last time before he opened his bedroom door and silently made his way down the steps. As he descended he picked up on the sound of concerned voices in the seating room. He slowed his steps so he could hear them better.

“….No, I’m…. He’s not…” He heard Nino argue before being cut off by his father.

“Nino… We can’t…. Guards…. Already...”

Adrien quickly descended the steps so he could hear the conversation better.

“Please papa, he won’t demand stuff from us.”

“Nino, I-”

Adrien missed his step and landed on a creaky one. He winced but the conversation seemed to continue although much quieter than before. He continued down the rest of the steps and he paused outside the door tried to listen to the rest of the conversation but it was already over when he arrived.

Nino quickly exited the room, his father yelled for him to come back but the older man was ignored. He grabbed ahold of Adrien’s right arm and pulled him down the rest of the steps.

“What was-” he tried to ask through the pain searing through his arm from the cut.

Nino shook his head and waved his free hand in front of his face. “It’s nothing to worry about, I’ve got it sorted out,” he quickly said pulling Adrien with him out the front door.

Helplessly he followed his friend out onto the street where he immediately felt eyes on him. He instantly wanted to turn back to the safety of the house. He hadn’t thought about how much his coat would make him stand out. He wanted to retreat into the shadows but Nino wouldn’t let him, he kept Adrien walking straight and he refused to head down any alleys. He wondered how he was able to do this so confidently. How he was able to ignore the eyes that followed them. Maybe he’d get used to it in time? He didn’t know but he hoped it would be the case.

They continued walking towards the Seine, he started to hear the sound of the more busy parts of Paris. Sounds that made Adrien feel at ease.

He thought now would be a good time to ask about the question that had been burning inside his head since the moment he arrived but he knew he couldn’t just ask out of nowhere so Adrien waited until they had been walking for a while before he asked. “My father…” he whispered. He didn’t dare speak his name too loudly, he knew that even a whisper could cause someone's death and he didn’t want to do that to Nino. “He’s dead… isn’t he?”

Nino’s head dropped slightly before he exhaled. “No one’s seen him. None of his associates. None of the guards. I’ve kept an ear out for the both of you but…”

Adrien’s eyes meet the floor and he nodded. He had guessed that but he still needed it to be confirmed by someone.

“I’m sorry…” Nino offered and Adrien struggled to fight back they few tears that threatened to roll their way down his cheek.

“It’s- It’s okay. I just needed to hear it,” he explained quickly pulling himself together and wiping away any signs of tears. “So?” he asked quickly changing the subject, “Where are we going?”

-x-

She sat down on the harsh ground and stared out across the stone square. This was where a king had lost his head as well as many other people but today… It was relatively empty. A few people still wandered across the cobblestones on their way to somewhere else but there was no massive crowds, no loud cries calling for justice just… the soft sound of some nearby trees and the loud coos of the pigeons the tall thin man was feeding.

A smile spread across her lips as a thought came to mind from the sight. She felt Tikki sneak up her arm so she could watch the drawing unfold atop the page. Neither of them said anything as her pencil danced its way across the page. A squiggly line became the brim of a hat and a straight one became a long and tall feather.

She placed her pencil down and lifted the book into the light so she could get a better look at it. She loved it, it was perfect.

-x-

Her needle slid into the stiff fabric with every little ease. The thimble on her finger did very little to stop it from it falling prey to the sharp each off the small piece of metal. She let out a yelp in surprise as the needle missed its mark and poked its way into her finger.

She placed the hat down to inspect her fresh wound before letting out a deep breath and resuming her work and sewing in the finer details of her design. It wouldn’t be long before it was finished and she wanted it to be finished as quickly as possible so she could show off her hard work to the tailor.

“Marinette?” her Kwami asked drawing her attention away from the hat allowing her to once again prick her finger.

“Yes?” she replied hiding the pain currently shooting through her pinky.

“Don’t you have training with Chat in five minutes?”

She frowned and quickly buried her hand into her pocket to fish out her watch. She groaned as she realised the time. How could she forget? She quickly placed the half-finished hat on her desk. Her fingers hurt from all the misplaced needles that had punctured her skin and she really wasn’t looking forward to holding a sword with the tiny holes in her fingers but it had to be done.

-x-

Left, right, lunge, block. The moves repeated in her head. She swung the heavy wooden sword and tried to land a strike on her partner but of course, he was more experienced and was able to predict her attack. She lunged forward and he sidestepped her causing her to run past him. She let out a yelp as his own sword hit the back of her leg. She quickly recovered and re-entered her stance and prepared to lunge again but of course, he blocked her attack, she let out a frustrated groan and tried again only to get the same result. She swallowed her anger, it wouldn’t help her win this fight as Chat constantly reminded her, it would only add to her predictability. Marinette took a deep breath and prepared for him to attack, it was her turn to defend.

His strikes were slow at first, he was making sure that her blocks were correct but soon they were sped up. He constantly reminded her to lift her shoulder and to adjust her stance, this was all very confusing and she struggled to keep up with them all the time. Lift your right arm. Don’t forget to watch for anyone that might sneak up on you. Continually check for opening in your opponent, the quicker you can end a fight, the better. She was starting to grow tired and her partner started to realise that but he didn’t let up his attack as her opponent wouldn’t if it were a real fight. She pushed herself to continue but it proved too much for her. She was about to ask him to stop when l she saw a break in one of his attacks. She took the opportunity and countered his attack, she cheered internally as she landed her first-ever strike on him. Her blade made contact with his right arm and also his sword hand, it let out a loud and sharp whack that bounced slightly off the empty rooftops around them.

Her partner let out pain-filled yowl in response and she quickly turned into, as Alya referred to it as, momma Marinette mode when she noticed that he was clutching his arm and his eyes started to water from the pain. He dropped his wooden sword and crumpled to the floor still whimpering slightly. Her knees met the sharp masonry tiled rooftop beside him and she immediately tried to find out what was wrong. She couldn’t see anything wrong as he was clutching his shoulder and his black suit didn’t help as any blood would blend seamlessly into the leather-like fabric He hissed out something under his breath and beyond her range of hearing.

“Chat?” she asked concerned, “Are you okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It- It’s okay, bug,” he whispered through the pain. “It’s not your fault, I picked a fight with the wrong cat and you just managed to hit me in the right spot.”

“You should have said something about that,” she replied lightly hitting his shoulder with her palm causing him to once again hiss out in pain. “If you had I wouldn’t have hit you there.”

Sheepishly he nodded his head as he rubbed the spot she had slightly hit him. He seemed to slowly recover from the pain she had inflicted upon his shoulder a good sign in her eyes. It meant that she hadn’t broken anything.

“Okay...” he said, his voice was small and quiet.

A small but sad smile spread across her lip, just as he normally did, he tried to hide just how much pain he was in. She was starting to pick up on the fact that he quite often would get injured during an Akuma attack while trying to protect her and wouldn’t tell her until long after they had defeated the villain in favour of not letting her down when she needed him. A selfless act and if it weren’t for the events of recent weeks, an act that would make her blush but now she saw it as plan stupid and there was probably not going to be a way to stop him.

She let out a sigh, she could think about it later right now she needed to help her partner. Carefully she grabbed a hold of his other arm, pulling him and herself to their feet. She was seriously deciding whether or not to continue on with their training. She didn’t want to hurt him any further but she also knew that he would be extremely stubborn about her not finishing her training for that night. She believed that she could maybe talk him into allowing it slide just this once although it would be hard. He put a lot of focus on her succeeding in this training. She could tell that he was enjoying teaching her a skill he had probably possessed for most of his life as he was taking great pride into making sure that she was actually picking up what he was trying to teach her.

She headed towards a nearby wall indenting to lean her partner against it while he continued to recover from what seemed to be an extremely well placed hit on his shoulder. She intended to interrogate him about it as there had been no signs that he was hurt. She wondered how long he had been hiding the wound from her, it had to be a while as they had been training for several weeks with wooden swords. She was slow to pick up on the things he was teaching meaning it took a while before they were able to move on from him calling out where his attacks were going to be just so she could defend herself from his slow attacks but she surely would have noticed that he was favouring his right arm, after all, it was the arm that he wielded his sword with.

She let out another soft sigh as she lent her partner against the wall. He let out a yelp as his right arm touched the uneven wall of the slightly taller four-story house.

“How?” was all she said. She wanted to know how it had happened and how he had hidden it.

“Sorry?” he replied.

“How? How did it happen,” she asked again.

“I- I told you…” he stuttered, “I picked a fight with-”

She raised her hand cutting him off, “How did it happen,” she reaffirmed.

He let out a sigh and sent her one last pleading look before he did as she asked. “I met the wrong person on the wrong street at the wrong time. He managed to land a strike on me but I’m pretty sure I left him worse off,” he reluctantly explained.

She nodded her head, “Why hide it?”

“I didn’t want you to worry Bug.”

Her mouth opened slightly before she quickly shut it as she processed how to respond to him.

The loud echoing screams pulled her attention away from the conversation. She knew those screams, they were the leading sign of an Akuma attack. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she mentally prepared for what was about to happen. She opened her eyes and quickly scooped up the two wooden swords; her balcony was on the way to the Akuma. She sent a look to Chat, he nodded, he knew what she wanted him to do. He pulled his baton from his back and took off running towards the Akuma. She believed that it was going to be a long day.

-x-

The wind blew through his hair as he raced towards the attack. Nothing seemed out of order apart from the fact he had to constantly avoid the high amount of birds as his nose constantly twitches. His allergies were starting to play up as he passed them, he hadn’t even seen the Akuma yet and he was starting to despise it. He continued on, his eyes were on the roof tiles and the streets below him and not the skies above as he grew closer to where the screams had originally come from.

He propelled himself a little further until he was sure he was where the screams had originated from. He searched the almost empty streets below indicating that he was in the right place but he could see no sign or indication that there had been an Akuma in the area. Maybe a false alarm? He thought, there had been a few of those but this didn’t seem like one so he continued to search.

He went street by street looking for what his gut was telling him was there and for a brief second his eyes flickered up to the blue almost cloudless skies above. He stopped in his tracks and watched in awe and confusion of the things he was witnessing. Huge flocks of birds were circling the skies above them. They weren’t random and were circling the skies as if they were patrolling them. A large flock of birds swooped down and picked up a group of soldiers, their blue coats were only just visible through the grey feathers. Another flock swooped down to pick up the three left behind by the first lot as they tried to run away but to his surprise, they left the civilians, alone.

He pulled his baton from his back and tried to chase after the birds. He propelled himself faster and faster in an attempt to catch up to the fast birds but it was no use. The birds proved too much for his sensitive nose. Slowly he came to a stop and watched helplessly as the men were carried off to an unknown destination, their distant yells became quieter and quieter with each flap of the bird's wings until they were no more.

His turned his head slightly to his right where another large ball of birds were carrying off another poor blue coat soldier. He frowned bat that quickly changed when he caught sight of the red-spotted suit. Her focus was also on the large ball of birds slowly passing over his head.

Carefully he crept up behind her, a small smile had spread its way across his lips. “It seems birds of a feather flock together,” he said announcing his presence to her before all of his focus on not sneezing dissipated. He sneezed and lost his footing on the uneven roof. He rolled down it before catching himself before he fell off of it. “Sorry,” he said, “I’m allergic to feathers.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes and shook her head. “That’s helpful,” she muttered, her mind clearly had already gone through all the possibilities on where today could go wrong.

He felt another sneeze coming on but managed to catch himself before he did.

“I know…” he replied in a sarcastic tone, “but that’s not our only problem. The birds seem to only be targeting the soldiers.”

She nodded, “We best find this Akuma and fast.”

There was no telling how much damage could be done without the peacekeepers. He watched patiently as a plan formed within his partners head before she threw her yo-yo off towards their destination indicating that she wanted him to follow. He bit back another sneeze before pulling his baton from his resting place on his back, ready to follow her into battle.

Made for @ladynoirjuly2019

Wanna Buy Me a Coffee?

<—Previous Drabble Master List Next—>

#Miraculous Ladybug #Ladynoir July #Miraculous #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Ladybug #Writing Prompt #Prompt #SwanSongWrites #When Tomorrow Comes #I Keep Drabbling on #Maybe one day I'll have this finished

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redeyedryu · 6 years ago

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Apathy & Happenstance

Chapter 9 - Introspection and Preparation [Ao3] | 1 | 8 | x |

It occurs to me that I forgot to post the update here. Whoops... So in case you don’t read it on Ao3, here’s the 9th chapter of AAH. Bear in mind that the vote presented at the bottom is no longer open.

Summary: Papyrus puts together a shopping list and Sans is still a sweaty mess.

You wake up around ten-thirty, a half hour before your alarm. That gives you about an hour before you need to head in for your afternoon shift at the grocery store. It takes you about ten minutes to actually will yourself out of bed and another thirty to finish getting ready for the day, leaving you with about twenty extra to spare.

As you pad your way towards the kitchen, tulip tie and apron in hand, you navigate through the contacts on your phone, stopping at “Sans the (Blue) Skeleton”. You shoot him a quick text per your agreement (it simply reads: Not dead) and drop the tie and apron on the small dining table, next to where you had abandoned your bag last night.

Sans is sitting at the table, scribbling something on a loose piece of paper, his grin set in a frown and eye sockets creased in concentration.

It’s so weird how malleable the bone of skeleton monsters is and you wonder if you’ll ever grow accustomed to it.

Pliable bone aside, whatever Sans is writing down must be important—he didn’t even acknowledge you when you dropped your things on the table. You cast a glance at the piece of paper, curious, but can’t make heads or tails of his chicken scratch. You’re tempted to ask what he’s doing but ultimately decide against it. It’s not really any of your business, is it? You do, however, make a mental note to grab him one of your spare notebooks. Lord knows you have an overabundance of them. A few pens wouldn’t hurt either (you have an even larger collection of those).

A quick scan of the room reveals that Papyrus is in the kitchen once again, his back to you, arms braced on the counter, and you’re relieved that he has yet to turn anything into rancid-smelling charcoal. It looks like he hasn’t even attempted to start cooking, actually. You quirk a brow, noting he seems to be inspecting something quite intensely on the counter-top.

Leaving Sans to his scribbling, you come up beside Papyrus to find he has one of your cookbooks cracked open and that he’s perusing the pasta section. Does he like pasta? He had mentioned attempting to make “breakfast lasagna” yesterday, though you still have questions about that disaster. First of all, you didn’t even have lasagna so what sort of pasta had he even been messing with? Eh, whatever. Yesterday’s problems and all that.

“Did the cookbook threaten to devour your kneecaps or something? You’re staring at it awful hard there, sir.”

“HARDLY.” Papyrus scoffs. He tilts his skull slightly, taking in your appearance before quickly returning his attention to scrutinizing the book. “I AM MERELY DOING RESEARCH ON HUMAN CUISINE.”

You quirk a brow at that. Is there that much of a difference between human and monster food? You're rather reluctant to inquire, as that would require admitting that in all this time since monsters’ liberation, you had yet to partake in any of their food. You certainly had several opportunities to sample it but had always politely declined or offered up an excuse.

You ponder that for a moment. Why have you been avoiding monster food? Sure the monster populace in your city is quite small, being as far from Mt. Ebott as it is, but that isn't to say it’s non-existent. Heck, one of the supervisors at the grocery store is a bipedal rabbit monster who often brings in homemade cinnamon bunnies.

Maybe you should try one the next time she brings them in….

“Ah, before I forget,” you abruptly say, shelving the self-reflection for now, and with a snap, you point at the skeleton beside you. “I’m working at a grocery store today and figured I could pick up a couple things when I get off. Was there anything y’all wanted? I know we carry a few monster products if you… uh…” The sentence trails off as you catch sight of Papyrus’s expression. You turn your head just slightly to the side, brows furrowing. Why is he looking at you like that?

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you voice the thought.

Those dark, empty pits of blackness are staring at you again. You expect him to say something but he merely continues to watch you, the moment stretching awkwardly as a shudder works its way up your spine.

“What did I say?” you press, not knowing what to make of Papyrus’s behavior.

Another beat of silent staring passes and you feel your muscles tensing. For what, you're not entirely sure.

When Papyrus finally lets out a very subdued chuckle, quickly followed by a few more that sound suspiciously like “nyeh heh heh”, the tension eases. He turns to face you, hip resting against the counter, and brings a bony palm to drape across his eyelids.

You're baffled, to say the least.

“Uh…?”

“YOU ARE A CURIOUS PUZZLE, AREN’T YOU, HUMAN?” Papyrus eventually manages, hand dropping away from his face, though he now has his arms crossed over his chest.

You squint at the skeleton. What is that supposed to mean…?

He merely shakes his head with one last chuckle and says, “IF YOU ARE OFFERING, THERE ARE A FEW THINGS I WOULDN'T MIND YOU ‘PICKING UP’ FOR ME.”

That's a really weird way to word it—it almost comes off as belittling, especially with the inflection he used at the end there, but whatever. You’ve already decided that the skeletons are weird.

“Okay,” you respond. “Let me go nab something for you to write on.” You don't wait for his reply as you run back to your room.

You snatch the palm-sized notebook sitting atop the nightstand, flipping it open to a blank page. It’s your go-to for making little notes and lists to yourself so it should be perfect.

Just as you’re moving to leave the room you remember Sans and his loose-leaf scribbling. You nab a couple small notebooks (they're no bigger than your hand) from the bookshelf squished up against the wall and a random assortment of pens.

Once you're back in the kitchen you hand Papyrus the notebook and a pen, instructing him to write down what he and his brother would like or need most.

“I can't guarantee we carry everything you write down but I'll get what I can,” you tell him, leaving out that you've never even perused the monster food section, so you can't even say what the store does stock.

“I SUPPOSE IT’S NOT SURPRISING THAT A HUMAN ESTABLISHMENT WOULD HAVE A RATHER MEDIOCRE SELECTION.” is all Papyrus says on the matter, before attending to building his list. He doesn't see how you quirk a brow.

“Uh huh,” you reply before leaving him to it.

As the large skeleton works, you give your phone a quick glance and, noting the time, realize you should probably head out soon. You go to gather your things at the table, stopping to tap Sans on the shoulder to grab his attention. You don't miss the way he seems to flinch at your touch, nor the way sweat begins beading along the crown of his skull. He’s even more huddled over the scrap piece of paper than when you left him, and you notice several areas where he’s completely scratched out whatever he had written.

“Here,” you say as he twists to face you, eye lights flicking from your face to the hand with your offerings.

He doesn't immediately accept so you shake the notebooks at him. “You looked like you could use these.” You press, and he finally takes the hint; his brows furrow and the corners of his shark-toothed smile dip into a frown. A few droplets of that red-tinted, magical sweat of his roll down the sides of his skull. He doesn't move to accept the proffered notebooks. In fact, he looks about ready to protest, maw parting, so you quickly tell him, “I've got plenty.”

His jaws snap shut with an audible click. A moment passes in which he does little more than stare at you, eye sockets squinted and frown ever present, before his expression finally shifts. The ridges of bone above his eyes raise and he grins a toothy grin. He’s still a sweaty mess, though.

“why sweetheart,” he says, folding his arms behind his head and leaning into the back of his chair. As his eye sockets dip closed he continues, “didn’t know ya cared ‘bout this ol’ bag a bones so much.”

Your expression goes dry and you give the skeleton a flat look. You drop the notebooks and pens on the table before him.

“Gross,” you say. “Don't call me sweetheart.” And with that, you get back to gathering your things, completely ignoring the deep chuckles rumbling from the shark-toothed skeleton. Your phone’s stuffed in a pocket, tulip tie jammed into your bag, which is then slung over a shoulder, and apron gathered and draped over an arm. That done, you head back to the kitchen.

Papyrus is leaning against the counter, arms and legs crossed. His eye sockets are shut, brow ridges raised, as a single gloved finger tap, tap, taps against the exposed bone of his upper arm. In his opposite hand you notice the notebook you had lent him.

“You done?”

His finger immediately ceases tapping out its rhythm at the sound of your voice. He cracks open a single, empty socket. A beat passes as the two of you simply stare at one another (what is up with this guy and dramatic, silent stare-downs?) before Papyrus decides he’s had enough. Legs uncrossing, he pushes himself from the counter, the hand holding the notebook lifting from his chest while the other remains wrapped around his ribs.

“HUMAN,” he says as he all but throws the notebook at you. You fumble a bit, nearly dropping it a couple times, but ultimately succeed in catching it. Thankfully, you manage to avoid any paper cuts. “I HAVE COMPLETED THE LIST.” he continues, “I TRUST YOU DON’T NEED ME TO CLARIFY ANYTHING ON IT.”

You glance at the notebook and absently note that unlike his brother, Papyrus’s handwriting is quite neat and uniform, with everything written in block letters. A quick skim of the page tells you that no, you don’t need him to clarify anything.

“Yeah, you’re good,” you tell him as you shift your bag down your shoulder and quickly stuff the notebook into it. “Thanks, boss.”

As you turn to exit the kitchen, intent on making your way out, you think you hear the tall skeleton sputter. Odd, but whatever.

As you ready yourself at the door, nabbing your keys and sliding into your shoes, you remember that you still have yet to set boundaries and ground rules with your impromptu skeletal roommates. You should probably address that. You call to the brothers from over your shoulder, informing them that, “When I get home tonight we need to talk about ground rules and boundaries.”

You hear a grunt of acknowledgement from Sans while Papyrus’s booming voice replies, “YES, GOOD IDEA, HUMAN!”

Alright, cool. That’s one thing almost done and out of the way. Hopefully it doesn’t escape your mind again by the time you get back….

With all your things gathered and prepared, you open the door, calling over your shoulder to the brothers one last time. You tell them, “I’m heading out now. I’ll be back in about seven hours. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone!” and make your escape.

It’s as you’re driving to work that a random thought comes to mind: today marks the third day of the brothers having arrived in your universe with nothing more than the clothes on their back. Not only that, but it’s also their third day on the surface and as far as you know, they have yet to step foot outside. You’re going to have to do something about that. You’ll have to double check your schedule but you’re pretty sure you don’t have to work either of your jobs tomorrow. Maybe you can take the guys out?

Your mind’s made up. Tomorrow you’ll take the boys out. The question now, however, is where will you take them?

* To the thrift shop downtown.

* To the large shopping mall near the interstate.

#Red Drabbles #Undertale Fanfiction #Reader Insert #Apathy and Happenstance #tenth chapter is roughly halfway written

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sarcasticgaypotato · 6 years ago

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(( Whoops, I did it again. For @bondibee‘s ‘LaaC’ verse, based on some musings we’ve had. )) Chell was dead. Death happened to all humans eventually, so it really ought not to have been so surprising. Chell lived longer than most, much longer in fact. At least a solid ten years more than GLaDOS’s initial estimate. Of course, that was only because of GLaDOS. As Chell started to get older and her body started to underperform, GLaDOS was there to step in. If Aperture could make a gun that shot holes in reality, they could certainly improve upon pre-existing technology meant to support human life. So, as year after year went by, and bit after bit of Chell’s natural body failed her, GLaDOS hooked her up to some new machine that would kick the the can down the road a little bit further, at least until the next upgrade. But eventually, it got to a point where Chell started turning her head away, scowling at the prospect of whatever new machine GLaDOS had designed for her. It was almost as if she didn’t want to live another year. Another five. Another ten. Yes, she was old and weak and bedridden, yes she could hardly sit up, and lived off an IV drip, but she was alive. Chell was barely a shadow of the athletic, quick-thinking, tenacious, test-solving woman that she had once been, but she was still Chell. GLaDOS had kept her brain deterioration to a shocking minimum, and so Chell was very much still in there- if she had been reduced to some wheezing old hag who couldn’t remember her own name, GLaDOS might’ve given up sooner and let her go- but sometimes she wondered if that made things harder. Chell knew who she was, where she was, and what she had been able to do. To then, with full understanding and memory, watch herself lose those capabilities, one by one, had been painful. The powerful test subject that GLaDOS had come to love now... seemed nothing but tired.

And so, when she was on her deathbed, Chell had actually smiled. Her lips pulled gently upwards as she rested a frail hand on GLaDOS’s balled up fist. As if that was supposed to comfort her. GLaDOS had been fighting tooth and nail to save her this time, but she hadn’t been prepared, her latest prototype wasn’t ready and- “GLaDOS…?” GLaDOS looked up, blinking tears- she wasn’t crying. Was she? Her cheeks were wet but she wasn’t crying- out of her eyes, and trying to focus her gaze on the woman in front of her. “I…” Chell’s voice came out like a croak, sickly and weak, and far from the attractively low growl that it had been in her prime. GLaDOS couldn’t help but wonder if something was making it painful for her to talk, hence the way she paused in-between each word. Frantically, the AI tried and determine what it was. Maybe she could get her some water, some medicine, something to make it easier for her to say what it was that she needed to say. But the rest of Chell’s sentence didn’t come. GLaDOS waited, and she was met with silence. “Speak.” ... “ ...I said SPEAK damn you, now is not the time to play mute again!” GLaDOS rose her voice, trying to ignore the way that her pitch dangerously wavered and threatened to crack. A flare of anger rose in her chest that burned white hot, as she stared down at Chell, who lay there, ignoring her. Ignoring her with glassy eyes and a chest that no longer moved up and down with raspy breaths, there was nothing but silence. Silence that was only broken by the cold, hard sound of a flatline. GLaDOS’s anger was replaced with freezing cold dread. A pit of ice that formed in her stomach, and slowly spread outwards. Chell was dead. And GLaDOS wasn’t ready. Chell had been on death’s door for far too long now, but GLaDOS had stubbornly shook her head and refused to believe it. Chell couldn’t die yet. She still had another year in her. Another month. Another day. GLaDOS just needed one more day. One more hour. Five more minutes. She needed Chell, she couldn’t lose her. She couldn’t say goodbye yet. And days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months, and months turned into years. Soon, it had been a decade since Chell died, and GLaDOS still could not bring herself to let it go. Chell’s body was perfectly preserved, held in stasis exactly the way it had been merely minutes after death. It was tucked away in a secure room, then locked up. GLaDOS hadn’t looked at the body since the day Chell died. Seeing it would only make her death more real, so she tried to pretend it wasn’t there. Chell was dead, and GLaDOS couldn’t handle that. So... maybe, she didn’t have to. It had been a decade, and GLaDOS finally started to move forward. Not move on, but not stay stagnant. That wasn’t very good science. She threw herself into her work instead, completing a project that she had been forbidden to do. Chell had never wanted this, she had said as much, no matter how much GLaDOS had tried to convince her otherwise. But that was alright. GLaDOS could let herself be selfish, that was not the worst thing she had ever been called. Chell could hate for a hundred years if she wanted, and that would be fine. Time would soon be irrelevant to the both of them. All GLaDOS needed was to be able to hold Chell in her arms again. Warm and alive, and in her prime. And GLaDOS had the technology to one day do so. GLaDOS could grow a body. If she could make dozens of human forms for herself, she could make a perfect copy of someone else’s. She had Chell’s body, she could take whatever samples she needed, and go from there. She had Chell’s brain scanned, she need only turn memories and feelings into lines of code. If GLaDOS herself could exist like this, so too could Chell. And so she worked, tirelessly, to perfect the process that the scientists before her had created. They had found out how to create robotic life with a human base, but that wasn’t what GLaDOS needed. She was made from the building blocks of Caroline, but she was still someone new. GLaDOS didn’t want to make someone new. She just wanted Chell back. But she would be careful. She would be cautious, she would check every line of code, every second of the process. She would find where the scientists who created her went wrong, and she would fix their mistakes. She would do this right. Unfortunately, defying death was not so simple. And for as much as GLaDOS could, and would oppose the natural order of things- her existence alone spat on the process of organic life- that did not mean that the universe would not fight back. When she first brought Chell online, she had been eagerly waiting at the not-so-human’s side. Chell’s new body was as young and powerful as it had been when they first met, lively looking and healthy. Chell’s eyes, when they opened for the first time, shimmered with life, and seemed leagues away from the exhausted dullness they had held the last time GLaDOS saw her. But nothing was ever as perfect as it seemed. This was not the Chell that GLaDOS had spent years with, fallen in love with. This Chell did not look at her with fondness or affection. It first met her gaze with guarded confusion. Perhaps… she did not recognize GLaDOS’s human form. She had made this one to look exactly the same as it had been when she first inhabited it- it was only fair, she would not put herself in an old, weaker body if Chell got to be youthful- but it was possible that Chell would’ve expected to see the same form that she had looked at before she died. So GLaDOS spoke, reminded her who she was. The Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System. And Chell changed. It did not take long for GLaDOS to realize her mistake. As Chell grew more and more defensive, looked around the room for means of escape or attack, GLaDOS knew that she had brought Chell back, but she had brought a version of her back that was robbed of half her life. A Chell that looked and thought the same as she had all those years ago. Stuck with only GLaDOS’s murder attempt as the most recent memory in her head. It was too cruel, GLaDOS decided, to see her like this. She did not wait so long to be met with someone who looked at her with anger, fear, and confusion. She could not stand to be with a Chell who did not remember how tenderly she had held GLaDOS, kissed her, loved her. GLaDOS did the only thing there was to do. This was only the first test of many, she had an eternity to figure the process out to bring Chell back. She had everything she needed to tweak the the system and start again as many times as she needed. This was a minor setback, nothing to worry about. Yet…GLaDOS couldn’t quite stop the tears that fell from her eyes. Tears that cut paths through her makeup, and washed away the splatter of blood that had sprayed against her skin. She was only getting rid of a failed experiment. But Chell was dead. Again.

#chelldos #love as a construct #portal 2 #glados #chell #can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs #huh GLaDOS?

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dreamersscape · 6 years ago

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The Raven Cycle: A Liveblog (Part 4)

(Let’s just pretend the gap since my last installment was a much shorter and more reasonable period of time than it has actually been, shall we? I tried to make up for it with the length of this edition. Suuuuuper long post under the cut.)

Me, reading TDT’s opening quotations: Okay, yes, good. Taking things out of your dreams into the waking world. Got it.

Me, reading the last quote: ‘I loathe people who keep dogs. They are cowards who haven’t got the guts to bite people themselves.’?

YOU UNDERSTAND NOTHING OF MY PEOPLE, AUSTIN STRINDBERG. GET THEE HENCE.

‘He always returned with gifts, treasure, and unimaginable amounts of money, but to Ronan, the most wondrous thing was Niall himself. Every parting felt like it would be the last, and so every return was like a miracle.’ RONANNNNNNN. (Is it weird that it feels like Ronan is supposed to be my favorite bc he seems closest to my type and goodness knows I can relate to the grieving-a-father feels, but that’s not really the case so far? I love him dearly, but it feels like I should love him more. Weird? Not weird? I dunno.)

*carefully takes notes about the alleged details of Ronan’s birth because I know now every minor detail is actually Very Important*

‘Theoretically, Blue Sargent was probably going to kill one of these boys.’ Oh, good, it’s only a theoretical death. Glad we got that sorted out. Guess I can stop worrying about it now, right? :P

'Adam’s hand glided over her bare elbow. The touch was a whisper in a language she didn’t speak very well.’ I really like this line! Also, somewhat sadly, relateable.

'It had five tiny white buttons: four arranged in a cross shape, and one off by itself. To Blue, that fifth button was like Adam. Still working toward the same purpose as the other four. But no longer quite as close as the others.’ Oh, so we’re going to make my heart hurt over Adam Parrish in the first ten pages of the book. Fine.

'In that moment, Blue was a little in love with all of them. Their magic. Their quest. Their awfulness and strangeness. Her raven boys.’ Aw, those lines sound familiar. ;) And we’re all right there with ya, Blue.

'The dorms were emptier than they would’ve been during school term, but they were not empty.’ Whoops unrelated-to-TRC-but-nevertheless-on-brand feels ahoy.

So it’s been long enough since I read TRB that I can’t recall if I had any particular feelings about Declan then, but definitely feeling pretty sympathetic towards him now, what with his father’s seeming dismissive attitude toward him and the assault from this Gray Man. Also, have I read the word Greywaren before? Not sure.

Oh. So Ronan is the Greywaren, then. Guess that answers that.

’Mom is nothing without him’? Woooow, Declan. Wow. A bit less sympathy, now. (Maybe there’s something about their mother I don’t know yet, but still…)

’Creature was a good word for him, Ronan thought.’ Oof. He’s gonna make me eat my words, isn’t he? I already said I love you dearly, Ronan!

And now he’s gonna divert himself from his unpleasant thoughts with an external distraction. Oh good. That doesn’t mirror any of my other favorite characters at all.

'Back then, it had surprised Ronan; he hadn’t realized yet that Gansey could persuade even the sun to pause and give him the time.’ [drags a hand slowly down my face] Don’t do this to me, Maggie. Haven’t you already put me through enough with Adam and Gansey?

'His thoughtless expression was one of wonder or of pain; with Gansey they were so often the same thing.’ Well that–that’s a sentence.

’“Ronan, there’s no reason for that,” Gansey said sternly, as if Ronan had hurled a toy on the floor.’ Gonna start listing all the mom-friend!Gansey moments, 'cause I gotta.

'He laughed enough that Chainsaw abandoned her paper shredding to verify he wasn’t dying.’ This is cute, other than the implication that Ronan genuinely laughing is a all-too-rare occurrence.

’“So what you’re saying is you can’t explain it.” “I did explain it.” “No, you used nouns and verbs together in a pleasing but illogical format.”’ Hee!

I half expect tired-of-potential-and-only-being-useful-needing-something-more!Blue to break out singing ’I want much more than this provincial life/I want adventure in the great wide somewhere/I want it more than I can tell’ and I don’t say that at all in a disparaging way, that’s just what it made me think of. It’s a very understandable desire on Blue’s part.

’“Jane!” Gansey said joyfully.’ I will never tire of this. :)

'When she returned, she leaned on the table beside Adam, who touched her wrist. She didn’t know what to do in response. Touch it back? The moment had passed. She resented her body for not giving her the correct answer.’ So! Freaking! Relateable!

'Kavinsky headed directly to the large table in the back, and the postures of the other boys all changed drastically….Gansey stood, leaning against the table, and there was something threatening rather than respectful about it.’ I live a protective!Gansey appreciation life.

The Gray Man is quite a character.

Ummmm so chapter eight just hurt my soul a whole lot? Here’s a list of the culprits:

'He’d spent just two hours at the easiest of the jobs — Boyd’s Body & Paint, LLC, replacing brake pads and changing oil and finding what was making that squeaking noise there, no, there — and now, even though he was off, he was ruined for anything else. Sticky and sore and, above all else, tired, always tired.’

'The only rub was, Blue was another troubling thing. She was like Gansey in that she wanted him to explain himself. What do you want, Adam? What do you need, Adam? Want and need were words that got eaten smaller and smaller: freedom, autonomy, a perennial bank balance, a stainless-steel condo in a dustless city, a silky black car, to make out with Blue, eight hours of sleep, a cell phone, a bed, to kiss Blue just once, a blister-less heel, bacon for breakfast, to hold Blue’s hand, one hour of sleep, toilet paper, deodorant, a soda, a minute to close his eyes. What do you want, Adam? To feel awake when my eyes are open.’ (This hurt less than the 'to go home, to go home, to go home’ passage, but ONLY JUST.)

'He’d already seen the ignored, unopened envelope emblazoned with Aglionby Academy’s raven crest. For two days he’d been stepping over it, as if it might disappear if he failed to acknowledge it.’ (Ah, hello avoidant coping skills, my old friend.)

’[Adam] ached inside.’/'He still ached.’/'his spine aching, shoulders aching, soul aching’

'They stared at each other, both hurt.’/'He tried not to let it sound like he was still hurt, but he was, and it did.’/'She tried not to let it sound like she was hurt, but she was, and it did.’

’What do you want, Adam? He didn’t even know.’ (T.T)

'His wide eyes and gaunt face peered back at him, troubled but not unusual.’

I’m so done, he thought. No more. Please, I can’t take any more.’ (SAME.)

'The difference in tuition between this year’s and next was twenty-four hundred dollars. That number again. It couldn’t be a coincidence.’ (SERIOUSLY THOUGH, I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE GANSEY/ADAM TENSION/CONFLICT/FIGHTING. WHEN DO WE GET TO THE GETTING BETTER PART?)

'They couldn’t hurt Gansey. Nothing could hurt him; people who said money couldn’t buy everything hadn’t seen anyone as rich as the Aglionby boys. They were untouchable, immune to life’s troubles. Only death couldn’t be swiped away by a credit card.’ (Oh Adam honey, you don’t even knooooow. :()

Adam! Some people show and feel love through acts of service! It’s not an inherently bad thing! Concern and the desire to help are not the same thing as pity!

Also, Blue’s “Then don’t be pitiful!” response was kinda strange, even for an impulsively perturbed remark? Just felt weird.

'She was looking at the box that served as his nightstand. Somehow it had moved several feet away from the bed. The side was badly dented, its former contents scattered violently across the floor. Only now did he remember the act of kicking the box, but not the decision to kick it.’ (Crap.)

'He calmed enough to remember that if he waited long enough, carefully analyzing how it felt, the emotion would lose its inertia. It was the same as physical pain. The more he tried to mentally decide what made pain hurt, the less his brain seemed able to remember the pain at all.’

'He’d never escape, not really. Too much monster blood in him. He’d left the den, but his breeding betrayed him. And he knew why he was pitiful. It wasn’t because he had to pay for his school or because he had to work for a living. It was because he was trying to be something he could never be. The sham was pitiful.’

'Some nights he lured himself to sleep by imagining how he would word the favor for Glendower. He needed to get the words exactly right. Now he rolled phrases around his mouth, desperately reaching for one that would comfort him. Ordinarily, words would tumble and lull through his mind, but this time, all he could think was Fix me.’ (On a related note, I’m dead.)

'He had a strange, disconcerting feeling that he couldn’t trust his senses. Like he was tasting an image or smelling a feeling or touching a sound. It was the same as just a few minutes before, the idea that he’d glimpsed a slightly wrong reflection of himself. Adam’s previous worries vanished, replaced with a more immediate concern for this ragged body he was carting around in. He’d been hit so many times. He’d already lost his hearing in his left ear. Maybe something else had been destroyed on one of those tense, wretched nights.’ (*Spontaneously revives to continue worrying myself to death over Adam Parrish* WHY CAN’T I TAKE CARE OF HIM?)

'Ronan, Noah, and Gansey were at the Dollar City in Henrietta, loitering. Theoretically, they were there for batteries. Practically, they were there because both Blue and Adam had work, Ronan’s shapeless anger always got worse at night, and Dollar City was one of the few stores in Henrietta that allowed pets.’ These stupid codependent teens.

“Hello? Oh, hey,” Gansey said to the phone, touching a notebook with a handgun printed on the cover. The oh, hey was accompanied by a definite change in the timbre of his voice. That meant it was Adam’ [tries to feel the joy I deserve at this past my intense anxiety about the probable clashing over the tuition thing]

'Ronan rested his forehead on the topmost shelf. The metal edge snarled against his skull, but he didn’t move. At night, the longing for home was ceaseless and omniscient, an airborne contaminant. He saw it in Dollar City’s cheap oven mitts — that was his mother at dinnertime. He heard it in the slam of the cash register drawer — that was his father coming home at midnight. He smelled it in the sudden whiff of air freshener — that was the family trips to New York. Home was so close at night. He could be there in twenty minutes. He wanted to smash everything off these shelves.’ He and Adam both want to go hoooome and I wish I could provide that for them and turns out I am actually Gansey.

'“Glitter,” whispered Noah reverentially, giving it a shake.’ Truly Noah is their light in the darkness. I LOVE HIM SO MUCHHHH.

'Farther down the aisle, Gansey suggested to the phone, “You could come stay at Monmouth. For the night.”’ Like I said. Also, I really, really wish I could hear both sides of this phone conversation.

'Sometimes Ronan thought Adam was so used to the right way being painful that he doubted any path that didn’t come with agony.’ I mean, fair. And heartbreaking.

'Gansey’s back was turned to them. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Ramirez? I didn’t talk to anyone at the church. Yes, twenty-four hundred dollars. I know that part. I —”’ Oh no. It’s happening.

'But one of the marvelous things about being Ronan Lynch was that no one ever expected him to do anything nice for anyone.’ I would hug you Ronan, except there is now more Adam 'n’ Gansey friction and I’m really bad at handling it!

'Abruptly, Ronan’s entire body went cold. Not a little chilly, but utterly cold. The sort of cold that dries the mouth and slows the blood. His toes went numb, and then his fingers….Then Noah reappeared in a violent sputter, like the power crackling back on. His fingers clutched Ronan’s arm. Cold seeped from the point of contact as Noah dragged heat to become visible.’ Oh, so Noah can do that with Ronan too? Because of his greywaren-ness?

'“I lost …” Noah struggled for words. “There wasn’t air. It went away. The — the line!” “The ley line?” Gansey asked. Noah nodded once, a sloppy thing that was sort of a shrug at the same time. “There was nothing … left for me.”’ Not allowed. Just saying.

'He didn’t say, Or maybe something terrible happened to Adam that day he sacrificed himself in Cabeswater. Maybe he’s messed up all of Henrietta by waking up the ley line. Because they couldn’t talk about that. Just like they couldn’t talk about Adam stealing the Camaro that night. Or about him basically doing everything Gansey had asked him not to. If Adam was stupid about his pride, Gansey was stupid about Adam.’ Yes, we know. :)

'From Ronan’s room, he heard Noah’s laugh. He and Ronan were throwing various objects from the second-story window to the parking lot below. There was a terrific crash.’ Having witnessed my younger brother doing basically the same thing once, I can vouch for the authenticity of this teenage-boy activity.

'Once, he had dreamt that he found Glendower. It wasn’t the actual finding, but the day after. He wouldn’t forget the sensation of the dream. It hadn’t been joy, but instead, the absence of pain. He couldn’t forget that lightness. The freedom.’ Yeah, don’t we all dream about the absence of pain. *buries face in hands* OH GANSEY BOY.

’“Do you want me to talk to her?” This was something he definitely, 100 percent felt certain in his guts that he had no interest in doing. “I’m really bad at talking, Gansey,” Adam said earnestly. “And you’re really good at it. Maybe — maybe if it just comes up natural?” Gansey’s shoulders collapsed; his breath fogged the glass and vanished. “Of course.” “Thanks.” Adam paused. “I just want something to be simple.” So do I, Adam. So do I.’ This right here? This A Whoooole Lot. Is there anything you wouldn’t do for Adam if he asked, Gansey?

'Noah slouched in. In a wounded tone, he said, “He threw me out the window!” Ronan’s voice sang out from behind his closed door: “You’re already dead!”’ OH. MY. GOODNESS.

’"You should come over.” “Not tonight,” replied Adam. I’m losing him, Gansey thought. I’m losing him to Cabeswater. He had thought that by staying away from the forest, he’d keep the old Adam — put off the consequences of whatever had happened that night when everything started to go awry. But maybe it just didn’t matter. Cabeswater would take him regardless.’ I dream of the absence of pain!!!

'His skin shivered and crawled, and he realized it was crawling with hornets, the ones that had killed Gansey all those years ago. There weren’t many this time, only a few hundred. Sometimes he dreamt cars full of them, houses full of them, worlds full of them. Sometimes these hornets killed Ronan, too, in his dreams.’ Oh, Ronan.

’Arbores loqui latine. The trees speak Latin. “You’ve done this before,” she said. Time was a circle, a rut, a worn tape Ronan never tired of playing.’ Huh. Has Ronan been dreaming of Cabeswater for years and years?

'Curled on the mattress, [Adam] covered his face with his summer-hot arm. Sometimes, if he blocked his mouth and nose, just this side of suffocation, sleep would overthrow him.’ THAT DOESN’T SOUND HEALTHY, MY BOY. :(

'He was awake enough to think of the invitation from Gansey. There might be an internship in there. Adam knew it was a favor. Did that make it wrong? He’d said no for so long that he didn’t know when to say yes….He hated the careful way Gansey had asked him about it. Tiptoeing, just like Adam had learned to tiptoe around his father. He needed a reset button. Just push the reset button on Adam Parrish and start him again.’ I am sad. (But maaaaybe he’s starting to reconsider the idea that he can never accept hep of any kind?)

'After he had exhausted this line of thought, Ronan gave in to the brief privilege of hating himself, as he always did in church. There was something satisfying about acknowledging this hatred, something relieving about this little present he allowed himself each Sunday.’ Oh, Ronan.

'“Hey, pal,” Matthew whispered. He was the only person who could get away with calling Ronan pal.’ Awww. :)

'Matthew Lynch was a bear of a boy, square and solid and earnest. His head was covered with soft, golden curls completely unlike any of his other family members. And in his case, the perfect Lynch teeth were framed by an easy, dimpled smile. He had two brands of smile: the one that was preceded by a shy dip of his chin, a dimple, and then BAM, smile. And the one that teased for a moment before BAM, an infectious laugh. Females of all ages called him adorable. Males of all ages called him buddy. Matthew failed at many more things than either of his older brothers, but unlike Declan or Ronan, he always tried his hardest.’ Whoops, I’m attached.

'Ronan had dreamt one thousand nightmares about something happening to him.’ *rubs heart*

'A lady reached over the top of Noah to pat Matthew’s head fondly before continuing down the aisle. She didn’t seem to care that he was fifteen, which was all right, because he didn’t, either. Both Ronan and Declan observed this interaction with the pleased expressions of parents watching their prodigy at work.’ Once again: Awww. :)

'Blue very much liked having the boys over to her house. Their presence at the house was agreeable for several different reasons….And the third reason was that it suggested permanence. Blue had acquaintances at school, people she liked. But they weren’t forever. While she was friendly with a lot of them, there was no one that she wanted to commit to for a lifetime. And she knew this was her fault. She’d never been any good at having casual friends. For Blue, there was family — which had never been about blood relation at 300 Fox Way — and then there was everyone else. When the boys came to her house, they stopped being everyone else.’ THEY’RE FAMILY NOW. <3

'Crossly, Blue realized that Gansey had now called her Jane so often that it felt strange to hear him say her real name.’ Embrace it, Blue. Embraaace it. :D

'He hid the insatiable wanting well, but now that she’d seen it once, she couldn’t stop seeing it. But he wouldn’t be able to explain it to Maura. And he would never really have to explain it to Blue. It was his something more.’ Awww. :)

(Sorry this liveblog is devolving mostly into either EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE or But this is cute! and if that is starting to become boring…)

’"What did they die of?” “Mom always said ‘meddling.’ Gansey completely forgot they were being secretive and let out a tremendous laugh. It was a powerful thing, that laugh. He only did it once, but his eyes remained shaped like it. Something inside her did a complicated tug. Oh no! she thought. But then she calmed herself. Richard C. Gansey III has a nice mouth. Now I know he has nice eyes when he laughs, too. This still isn’t love. She also thought: Adam. Remember Adam.’ 1.) I hope this line of rationalization works out for you, Blue. ;) 2.) I am still feeling torn, though. Blue and Adam are cute together. 3.) I’d be okay with a Blue-Gansey-Adam OT3 though.

'Maura frowned. In a low voice, she said, “I think I need to have a conversation with that boy.” “Someone does,” Calla replied, heading up the stairs. Each stair groaned a protest for which she punished the next with a stomp. “Not me. I’ve outgrown train wrecks.” Blue, alarmed, said, “Is he a train wreck?”| Her mother clucked her tongue. “Calla likes drama. Train wreck! When a train takes a long time to go off the tracks, I don’t like to call it a wreck. I like to call it a derailment.” From upstairs, Blue heard Calla’s delighted cackle. “I hate both of you,” Blue said as her mother laughed and galloped up the stairs to join Calla. “You’re supposed to use your powers for good, you know!” After a moment, Adam said to her, without lifting his eyes, “I could hear y’all, you know.” Blue hoped fervently that he was only talking about Maura and Calla and not about her kitchen conversation with Gansey. “Do you think you’re a train wreck?” “That would mean I was on the tracks to start with,” he replied.’ I would just like to say that I am miffed by this passage on Adam’s behalf. Thank you.

The chapter where Mr. Gray comes to 300 Fox Way was… interesting.

'Gansey, a furious sun, glowed from the other side of the universe, his gravitational pull too distant to affect Adam.’ WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME MAGGIE I CAN NEVER RECOVER.

So yeah, I just read the part where Adam is thinking back to how he and Gansey became friends and I think my heart just burst from emotional overload.

'Sometimes Adam wondered what would’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped that day. What would be happening to him right now?’ Sometimes, Allan wondered what would’ve happened if Robin hadn’t stepped out of the trees that day. What would be happening to him right now? SORRY, I HAVE A PROBLEM.

Also, it only just occurred to me that Allan and Adam are A-names and Robin and Richard (even if that’s not what Gansey goes by) are R-names. This makes me so unreasonably happy!

'Gansey was giddy now that they’d decided to go back to Cabeswater. He hated nothing more than standing still. He ordered Ronan to put on some terrible music — Ronan was always too happy to oblige in this department — and then he abused the Camaro at every stoplight on the way out of town. “Put your back into it!” Gansey shouted breathlessly. He was talking to himself, of course, or to the gearbox. “Don’t let it smell fear on you!” Blue wailed each time the engine revved up, but not unhappily. Noah played the drums on the back of Ronan’s headrest. Adam, for his part, was not wild, but he did his best not to appear unwild, so as not to ruin it for the others.’ REEELATABLLLLE!!!

'Adam felt like he was watching it all from outside. He felt like he was about to catch another image, like a flick of the tarot cards he’d looked at earlier. Was that someone standing by the side of the road? I can’t trust my eyes.’ Leave him aloooone. :(

'Gansey leaned back, head thrown to the side, drunken and silly with happiness. “I love this car,” he said, loud to be heard over the engine. “I should buy four more of them. I’ll just open the door of one to fall into the other. One can be a living room, one can be my kitchen, I’ll sleep in one …” “And the fourth? Butler’s pantry?” Blue shouted. “Don’t be so selfish. Guest room.”’ He’s adorable.

Huh. Cabeswater’s gone!

'Adam felt that the Pig’s status perfectly encapsulated how he felt. It was not really dead, just broken. He was held inside the question of what it meant for him if Cabeswater was gone. Why can’t things just be simple?’ While this is a legitimate concern, Adam, to be fair, just a few moments ago you were worrying about was going to happen when you returned to Cabeswater for the first time after your sacrifice. Poor guy’s anxious over everything. :/

'Ronan leapt out of the car and slammed the door. The thing about Ronan Lynch, Adam had discovered, was that he wouldn’t — or couldn’t — express himself with words. So every emotion had to be spelled out in some other way. A fist, a fire, a bottle. Now Cabeswater was missing and the Pig was hobbled, and he needed to go have a silent shouting fit with his body. In the back window, Adam saw Ronan pick up a rock from the side of the road and hurl it into the creeper. “Well, that’s helpful,” Blue said tersely.’ 1.) [Fond but exasperated] Oh Ronan. 2.) I appreciate your reaction, Blue. You’re not wrong.

'“I’m calling Declan,” Gansey said. “And telling him to bring a battery.” Ronan told Gansey what he thought of this plan, very precisely, with a lot of compound words that even Adam hadn’t heard before. Gansey nodded, but he also dialed Declan’s number. Afterward, he turned to Ronan, who leaned his cheek hard enough against the top of the window to make a dent in his skin.’ Please stop dealing with difficult emotions/situations by causing yourself pain, Ronan, honey.

'Gansey rounded on Adam, clutching his own headrest and looking behind him. “Why is it gone?”’ Why is my mental picture of this so endearing?

'Declan’s Volvo glided up, as quiet as the Pig was loud. Ronan said, “Move up, move up” to Blue until she scooted the passenger seat far enough for him to clamber behind it into the backseat. He hurriedly sprawled back in the seat, throwing one jean-covered leg over the top of Adam’s and laying his head in a posture of thoughtless abandon. By the time Declan arrived at the driver’s side window, Ronan looked as if he had been asleep for days.’ Oh, Ronan. What am I going to do with you?

'And as he sat there, observing the set of Declan’s shoulders and the way his eyes looked, he realized something startling. Declan was afraid. Probably it wasn’t apparent to Gansey, who was fairly oblivious, nor to Blue, who didn’t know what Declan looked like ordinarily. And Ronan’s feelings about his older brother were like blood in the water; he wouldn’t be able to see through the bilious clouds. But to Adam, who’d spent a fair amount of his life afraid — not only afraid, but trying to hide it — it was obvious.’ [Gansey voice] I am right to have Allan feels here and I will not be made to feel bad about it! (Also, in blast-from-the-past news, I’m really close to finally done with putting my anxiety-and-Allan thoughts into words and I’m excited for that.)

I love when Noah senses one of the other boys is in distress and goes to them and does his ghostly best to comfort or assist them. <3

'He thought about the day he’d been stung to death by hornets and lived anyway. Gansey ran over the memory until he no longer felt the thrill of hearing Glendower’s name whispered in his ear, and then instead gave himself over to feeling sorry for himself, that he should have so many friends and yet feel so very alone. He felt it fell to him to comfort them, but never the other way around. As it should be, he thought, abruptly angry with himself. You’ve had it the easiest. What good is all your privilege, you soft, spoiled thing, if you can’t stand on your own legs? ’ OH HONEY :( (But Noah does try!)

'“It’s not just the blood,” Ronan said. His chest moved up and down with his breath. “Something else got out, too.”’ Uh-oh.

Phew. They dispatched the nightmare creature while remaining mostly unscathed. Although they needn’t go around asking each other, "Are you murdered?” with the reply, “I think so.” anymore, please.

'“There was another one,” he said. “It got away.”’ Well, that’s not good!

'“It’s for the distasteful thing,” Gansey said. He plucked at the T-shirt with deprecating fingers. “I’m rather slovenly at the moment, I know.”’ [Fond, amused sputtering]

Oh, they’re going to the Barns!

'Gansey, a bit of the gallows in his voice, advised, “Poke its eye.”’ [Confused, taken-aback sputtering]

'“It feels the same as when you guys lived here,” Gansey said finally. “It seems like it should be different.” “Did you come here a lot?” Blue asked. He exchanged a glance with Ronan. “Often enough.” He didn’t say what Ronan was thinking, which was that Gansey was far more of a brother to Ronan than Declan had ever been.’ Brothers <3<3<3

'Ronan loved it so much. He nearly couldn’t bear it. He wanted to destroy something.’ That’s…one reaction to profound love. (Yes, I know. Profound love for something that’s been stripped away from you.)

'“Ronan Lynch,” he said. It was the voice Ronan couldn’t not listen to. It was sure in every way that Ronan was not. “Stop this right now. Go see your mother. And then we’re leaving.”’ More Mom-Friend!Gansey.

'Ronan walked directly up to her, close enough to see that she had not changed a bit since the last time he had seen her, months and months ago. Though his breath moved the fine hairs around her temples, she didn’t react to her son’s presence. Her chest rose and fell. Her eyes stayed closed. Non mortem, somni fratrem. Not death, but his brother, sleep. Blue whispered, “Just like the other animals.” The truth — he’d known it all along, really, if he thought about it — burrowed into him. Blue was right. His home was populated by things and creatures from Niall Lynch’s dreams, and his mother was just another one of them.’ Huh.

'My soul’s in enough peril as it is.” At this, Gansey’s face turned to a genuine frown and he looked as if he was about to say something. Then he just shook his head a little….“She didn’t try to see the future. It’s not something she became; it’s something she is. I could just as easily say that you’re evil because you can take things from your dreams!” Ronan said, “Yeah, you could.” Gansey’s frown deepened. Again he opened his mouth and closed it.’ Same, Gansey. Same.

'Ronan looked at him. That look, Blue thought. Ronan Lynch would do anything for Gansey. I probably would, too, she thought.’ If only he knew it. *rubs heart*

'Blue and Gansey exchanged a look. Blue’s look said, I’m so, so sorry. Gansey’s said, Am I the pretty one?’ Bless his cotton socks.

'Ronan thought of what Declan had said all those months before: Mom is nothing without Dad. He’d been right.’ Okay, but does Declan know about this stuff and how it works?

'Ronan interrupted the silence. “Cabeswater. Cabeswater is a dream.” Calla stopped rotating. “You don’t have to tell me I’m right,” Ronan said. He thought of all the times he had dreamt of Cabeswater’s old trees; how familiar it had felt to walk there; how the trees had known his name. He was tangled in their roots, somehow, and they, in his veins. “If Mom is in Cabeswater, she’ll wake up.” Calla stared at him. Silence was never a wrong answer.’ Okay then.

'But those words of Declan’s needled Ronan: She’s nothing without Dad. It was like he knew. Ronan wanted badly to know how much Declan knew, but it wasn’t like he could ask him.’ No, that would be too easy.

'“Says you and Dad were both dreamers,” Matthew said, “and you’re going to make us lose everything.” Ronan sat very still. He was so still so quickly that Chainsaw froze as well, her head tilted toward the youngest Lynch brother, purloined tuna sandwich forgotten. Declan knew about their father. Declan knew about their mother. Declan knew about him.’ Curious. Very curious.

The Gray Man is going to Monmouth Manufacturing!

'He had spent forty-eight hours more or less awake and restless and then, on the third day, he had bought a side-scan sonar device, two window airconditioners, a leather sofa, and a pool table. “Now do you feel better?” Adam had asked drily. Gansey had replied, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Hey, man,” Ronan said, “I like the pool table.” The entire situation made Blue apoplectic.’ Tag yourself; I’m Adam with a dash of Ronan. Pool tables are cool.

’"You are still wearing those incredibly stupid boat shoes, and of all the things that you have bought, you still haven’t replaced them!” Gansey, bewildered, observed his feet. The movement of his toes was barely visible through the tops of his Top-Siders. Really, in light of recent events, these shoes were the only things that were right in the world. “I like these shoes.”’ Update: he’s still adorable.

’[Gansey] exchanged a glance with Adam, because it had to be done’ 1) What does this mean? 2) I love them SO MUCH!

'In some parallel universe, there was a Gansey who could tell Blue that he found the ten inches of her bare calves far more tantalizing than the thirteen cubic feet of bare skin Orla sported. But in this universe, that was Adam’s job. } He was in a terrible mood.’ Oooooh. 👀

'So these were the people Greenmantle had warned him about. Fellow seekers of the Greywaren, whatever it might be.’ Curious and curiouser.

'Blue cheerfully spit a mouthful of brown water on his boat shoes. It pooled in the canvas over his toes. “Good God,” he said. “Now they’re really boat shoes,” she replied.’ Blue’s crusade continues.

'He knew what it was. He just didn’t know why it was. He said, “Well, that’s a wheel off the Camaro.” And it was. It looked identical to the wheels currently residing on the Pig — except this wheel was clearly several hundred years old. The discolored surface was pocked and lumpy. With all of the deterioration, the elegantly symmetrical wheel didn’t appear that out of place beside the shield boss. If you overlooked the tattered Chevrolet logo in the middle. “Do you remember losing one a little while ago?” Ronan asked. “Like, five hundred years or so?”’ Aggressively the Most Curious.

'Blue held his gaze, unflinching. Crisp, she replied, “None at all.” And it was a lie. It should not have been, but it was, and Gansey, who prized honesty above nearly every other thing, knew it when he heard it. Blue Sargent cared whether or not he was interested in Orla. She cared a lot. As she whirled toward the truck with a dismissive shake of her head, he felt a dirty sort of thrill.’ Oh, you kids.

'“Hey, Noah.” He was too busy being ghostly to attend to her, however. Currently, he was engaged in one of his creepiest activities: reenacting his own death. He glanced around the tiny yard as if appraising the forest glen containing only himself and his friend Barrington Whelk. Then he let out a terrible, mangled cry as he was struck from behind by an invisible skateboard. He made no sound when he was hit again, but his body jerked convincingly. Blue tried not to look as he bucked a few more times before falling to the ground. His head jerked; his legs bicycled. Blue took a deep, uneven breath. Though she had seen him do it four or five times now, it was always unsettling. Eleven minutes. That was how long the entire homicidal portrait lasted: one boy’s life destroyed in less time than it took to cook a hamburger. The last six minutes, the ones that took place after Noah had first fallen but before he actually died, were excruciating. Blue considered herself a fairly steadfast, sensible girl, but no matter how many times she heard his torn-up breath seizing in his throat, she felt a little teary. Between the twisted roots of the front yard, Noah’s body jerked and stilled, finally dead. Again.’ I feel w o u n d e d.

'They wandered to the door like that, a pretzel of dead boy and not-psychic girl.’ Don’t even look at me!

'Gleefully, Noah said, “There’s a pool table now! I’m the worst at pool ever! It’s wonderful.”’ THIS SWEET CHILD IS GIVING ME EMOTIONAL WHIPLASH.

'Gansey, pacing next to his ruined miniature Henrietta, set his eyes on Ronan. There was something intense and heedless in them. There were many versions of Gansey, but this one had been rare since the introduction of Adam’s taming presence. It was also Ronan’s favorite. It was the opposite of Gansey’s most public face, which was pure control enclosed in a paper-thin wrapper of academia. But this version of Gansey was Gansey the boy. This was the Gansey who bought the Camaro, the Gansey who asked Ronan to teach him to fight, the Gansey who contained every wild spark so that it wouldn’t show up in other versions. Was it the shield beneath the lake that had unleashed it? Orla’s orange bikini? The bashed-up remains of his rebuilt Henrietta and the fake IDs they’d returned to? Ronan didn’t really care. All that mattered was that something had struck the match, and Gansey was burning.’ #JusticeforMiniatureHenrietta

'“Don’t say anything stupid to him,” he told Gansey.’ Did I read that right? Did Ronan really just advise Gansey to be careful?

'The Gray Man recalled the buzz of his phone and patted his pockets. His phone was missing, however. Maura Sargent had stolen it while they were making out. In its place was the ten of swords: the Gray Man slain on the ground and Maura the sword driven through his heart.’ Interesting. Sorry that always seems to be my reaction to the Gray Man, but there it is.

#emily reads the raven cycle #status: tdt pg. 230 #jammeke #exlibrisfangirl

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minsugasnerd · 6 years ago

Text

Make My Life Complete

Pairing: Namjoon x You

Word Count: 4,630

Genre: Fluff

A/N: I had this fic posted before, but some how I deleted it?? Anyways...enjoy this Namjoon fluff!

Your hand was dwarfed in Namjoon's as the two of you stood there in the entrance to the university. It was by the grace of the higher powers you even got in, with your track record and all. You weren't the best student, not by far. Not because you had terrible grades or anything, it was because you missed a lot of school. That's what happens when your mom drags you in every which way when she breaks off her relationship with the flavor of the month. But the most recent move, was the last one. You couldn't have been any happier, not only could you finally have a place to call home but it's when you met and fell madly for Kim Namjoon.

By now you had a system, you unpacked the kitchen, bathroom, and what little things you had for your room. You both had been busy unpacking the house when the doorbell chimed.

"I got it!" You shouted at your mom.

"Thank you!" She said from the depths of her room.

You opened the door to see a tiny woman with a boy that doubled her size in a baseball cap right next to her. "Hello! I'm Ms. Kim from next door. This is my son Namjoon." You looked into the eyes of the boy next to her and he smiled at you. "And since we saw the moving truck we wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood." she said sweetly as she held out a plate of baked goods.

"Thank you!" you went to say but your mom beat you to it as she came to stand by you. "I'm Dahlia. And this is my daughter y/n. It's so kind of you to come over and introduce yourselves. Want to come in for some coffee?"

"That would be lovely!" Ms. Kim answered and waled straight into your house. "Joonie?" She called out.

"Joonie?" you asked and he looked down blushing.

"Yeah my mom calls me that, even though I asked her not to!" he nearly shouted the last part obviously frustrated.

"Namjoon I am your mother remember that, I can call you whatever I like." You snickered and he looked over at you and grinned. "Be a nice boy and show y/n around the neighborhood."

"Mo-oooom, you know I was supposed to hang out with the guys." he said.

"Namjoon." His mom simply stated before turning to look at him.”You see them all the time. Be a nice boy.”

He straightened up and nodded. She turned around and continued the conversation with your mom. He hung his head and was looking at the ground, embarrassed by the exchange with his mom.

"You know," you said reaching out and touching his arm, trying to get his attention. "You don't have to if you don't want to. It's fine really.I don’t want to ruin your plans."

His head shot up at the sound of your voice. A smile that revealed a set of dimples on his face. "It's no problem at all," he said. "I don't mind."

"Are you sure?," you asked him, and he nodded. "Okay let me put some shoes on. I'll be right back." you told him.

As soon as you were done lacing up your shoes, you checked your appearance in the mirror. ‘Why do you even care? You just met him’ You laughed at yourself before exiting your room.

Namjoon was patiently waiting by the door for you. “Ready?” he politely asked.

You nodded a yes to him. “I’ll be back mom,” you told her but she just waved you off.

You closed the door and stepped out into the warm summer day with your new neighbor. “So...” you said.

“Hmmm?” Namjoon questioned.

“Where are you taking me?” you asked walking alongside him.

“Well I figured I would just show you the neighborhood and show you where I hang out with my friends.” He said looking at you.

“I really didn’t mean to ruin your plans,” you apologized hanging your head slightly.

“Nah don’t worry about it.” He told you but you weren't too convinced. You were still looking towards the ground when he nudged you with his shoulder. “I mean it, Don’t worry about it.”

“If you say so Joonie,” you remembered the nickname his mom called him by.

“Not you too!” he fake cried.

For what seemed like hours the two of you walked around and talked. You learned a lot about him as you familiarized yourself with your new hometown. Namjoon’s favorite color was black, his favorite number was one, he was a lover of books and clothes. Which didn’t come as a surprise to you, he was dressed in a pair of black denim shorts, a black and white tank top, and a black baseball cap. You appreciated when someone bothered to match their clothing.

In return, you told him your favorites. You loved the color maroon, your favorite number was six, you also loved books. But your main love was music. You couldn’t get enough of it. “It’s just that I can get lost in it and not have a care in the world. It’s relaxing and therapeutic, I’m not sure where I would be without it,” you confessed. “No matter where a person is at in the world, music portrays the same story. A story of love, loss, heartbreak, happiness. It’s something that everyone can relate to.”

“I totally get what you mean, It’s the same with books. I get so immersed in the story sometimes I often forget the time or where I am. I’ve even read for so long that I accidentally stayed up until four in the morning.” You laughed. “Its not as bad as missing your bus stop though.” He said and that made you laugh even harder. You both kept walking for a little while longer until a voice called out for him.

“Namjoon-ah!” The two of you looked up to see two boys coming your way.

Namjoon looked at you and whispered, “I’m sorry in advance.” That left you confused.

“Where have you been man?” the boy with the mint color hair asked.

“I’ve been showing y/n around the town.” He looked at you. “Y/n I’d like you to meet my best friend Yoongi. She just moved in next door.” Yoongi shook your hand and the boy next to him cleared his throat. “And this is...-” Namjoon went to say but was interrupted.

“I’m Taehyung!” he said rather loudly. You stuck your hand out to shake his but he pushed it away and opted for a hug instead.

“Tae! Don’t scare the poor girl off,” Yoongi said.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind, he’s a lot friendlier than most of the people I’ve run across,” you spoke up.

The four of you talked for a bit. Yoongi was a bit standoff-ish, whereas Taehyung had his arm thrown around your shoulder. You had a feeling right then and there that this was going to be your favorite move by far.

“So are we still on for tonight then?” Yoongi asked Namjoon.

“Yeah we are.” He looked at you and explained that him and his friends had planned on having pizza at Jimin’s house and gaming. “You want to join us?” he asked.

“No. I don’t want to intrude on your plans again.” You politely declined.

“Please come!” Taehyung whined. He was acting like a puppy, with his hands stuck out like paws and his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he panted. He petted your hair with his ‘paws’ and right before he went in to lick your cheek you agreed.

“Okay!” you laughed at him. You looked at Namjoon to see a smile on his face.

Not long after, the two boys left you and Namjoon. He made a loop around the block which was leading you back towards your house. “I’ll come and get you around seven. Is that okay?” he asked you.

“If you’re okay with me tagging along...” the sentence trailed off.

“Y/n,” You liked how his voice sounded when your name fell from his lips. “It’s no problem. I want you to meet my other friends. You need friends too since you just moved here.Some of them are going to the same school as us.” You nodded.

“Okay if you say so.” You told him as you reached your front door. “Thank you for showing me around. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. It was great getting to know you.” He smiled. “What’s your number?” he asked making you blush. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I mean so that I can text you...-” you laughed at his nervous tone, but gave him your number before he left.

As soon as you closed the door, your mom came from the bathroom. He hair was wet which was a sign that she just got out the shower. “I was wondering when you’d be back. I almost called the police,” she joked. “Did you have a nice time?”

“Yeah I did. I met two of his friends. And they invited me to hang out tonight, if that’s okay?” you asked her.

“Of course it’s okay. I’m glad you’re already making friends.” She stopped towel drying her hair. “I know us moving a lot hasn’t been easy on you. I apologize for that. I promise this is the last time.” She hugged you. She talked to you for a few more minutes before you went to go finish unpacking your room.

A few hours had passed when you were organizing your books with your music up loud when you felt a presence behind you. You turned around to see Namjoon standing in your doorway and nearly screamed.

“What are you doing here?!” You questioned as you turned the volume down.

“I text you like ten minutes ago asking if you were ready. You didn’t reply so I came over and you mom said you were in your room.” He replied.

“But I didn’t hear my phone go off,” you said confused. You reached into your back pocket to notice that you did receive a text from a new number. “Whoops,” you blushed.

“I told you,” he smirked. “Your music was too loud. You ready?”

“Yeah just let me say bye to my mom.” He nodded and followed you out to the living room where your mom was painting her toenails and watching a movie. “Mom? We’re leaving now. I have my phone if you need me.”

“Have fun sweetie,” she said without looking up.

“Okay let’s go,” you told him. You closed the door behind you two and let him lead the way. “Who’s all going to be there?” you asked him.

“Well there’s going to be Yoongi and Taehyung,” you nodded. “And Jin, he’s the oldest. Hes goes to the local university, but he’s on summer break right now. Hoseok too. Although he goes to an out of state college. Umm Jimin will be there, He’s going to the same school as us. He’s one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet. He’s got a great voice too...He sings in the choir at school. And last but not least Jungkook. He’s the youngest of us all, he’s like a little brother to me.” He noticed the nervous look on your face. “Don’t worry they’re nice guys. I wouldn’t be friends with them otherwise.” He told you. Something about his voice and his overall presence made you feel at ease.

It was a fifteen minute walk to Jimin’s house and Namjoon just walked on in like it was his own.

“Namjoon-hyung is that you?” You heard a voice call out. A younger boy walked around the corner and froze.

“Yes it is. Jungkook this is my new neighbor, Y/n,” the boy couldn’t look you in the eyes. You shot a questioning glance at Namjoon. “He gets really shy in front of girls,” he said.

“Especially pretty girls,” another boy appeared. He had bright red hair. “I’m Jimin,” he took his hand in yours and kissed your knuckles, making you blush. “Welcome to town and my house.”

“Really Jimin?” Namjoon sounded a little jealous. Jimin just smiled at you. “Is everyone here?” he asked.

“Yeah the pizza got here just before you did.” Jimin said as he lead you guy into another room. “This is the entertainment room,” Jimin explained as four sets of eyes looked towards you.

“Y/n!!! You came!” Taehyung shouted. Yoongi nodded in your direction.

“Y/n, this is Jin,” Namjoon pointed to the boy with a mouth full of food. Jin waved to you with an apologetic look on his face. “That there is Hoseok,” he pointed to the boy with midnight hair and brightest smile.

“It’s nice to meet you!” Hoseok smiled at you again, making you smile too.

“It’s nice to me you guys too,” you said politely.

The boys didn’t waste anytime digging into the pizza and talking. Namjoon had two plates in hand and sat down right next to you. “Thank you,” you whispered to him and he just smiled at you. The night was a blur of laughter and shouting when one player lost to another in the whatever game the were playing.

“Maybe next time?” you yawned out your answer when asked if you wanted to play. Namjoon looked at the time on his phone.

“I didn’t even realize what time it was. I’m sorry for keeping you out so late. Your mom isn’t going to be mad is she?” He asked worried.

“Don’t apologize and no she won’t be mad.” you said letting out another yawn.

“You ready to go?” he asked you and you nodded. “Alright guys we’re out,” he told the boys. Jungkook and Yoongi were already asleep on the spare couch.

“It was nice meeting you,” you said to them waving goodbye.

“Bye y/n” they said in unison.

Namjoon held his lightly pressed his hand to your lower back ushering you out the door with him. It had gotten a bit chilly sometime during the night and you didn’t think to bring a jacket or anything. You shivered and crossed your arms hugging warmth into yourself.

“Are you cold?” Namjoon asked.

“A little yeah. I wasn’t smart enough to bring a jacket.” you replied as he took off his sweatshirt. “No you don’t have-,” you started to say but stopped when he put the jacket around your shoulders.

“You need it more than I do. And honestly what kind of guy would I be if I didn’t give you my jacket?” He asked.

You didn’t answer him, you both let the chirp of crickets and croaks of the frogs fill the silence between you. As the sight of your houses came closer, you thanked Namjoon for showing you around and for introducing him to his friends.

“I had fun today. Thank you,” you told him and he looked towards the ground and smiled.

“There’s no need to thank me Y/n. I had fun today too,” he told you as he walked you to your front door.

“But I do need to thank you. I’ve moved so many times within the past few years and no one, I mean no one has been as kind as you have been. I appreciate that.” You leaned in and kissed him right on the cheek catching him off guard. “Good night Namjoon.” You opened the door and walked inside before he could say anything.

“I can’t believe I just did that.” you said to yourself.

Your mom’s groggy voice sounded from the couch. “You’re home?”

“Yeah I’m home. Sorry it’s late.” you told her.

“Did you have fun?” she asked as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“I did. I feel like this is going to be the best move yet.” you sighed. “I’m going to bed. Good night mom.”

“Good night honey.” she said as she walked to her own room.

You plopped down on your bed before realizing you still had Namjoon’s sweatshirt on. Smiling to yourself, you pulled out your phone to text him.

“I still have your sweatshirt...sorry. I’ll return it tomorrow :)”

His reply was almost instant.

“Don’t worry about it. It looks good on you ;)”

You felt butterflies in your stomach. How could someone you just met make you feel this way?

“Goodnight Joonie”

“Goodnight y/n. Sweet dreams :)”

That first day with Namjoon turned out to be just a preview of what was to come for the rest of the summer, even throughout the school year. He officially asked you out on a date after two weeks of flirting. From then on you two were practically inseparable. You fell madly in love with him. It didn’t feel like it was just some silly high school romance, it felt as real as could be. He took you to all of the school dances, was there for you when you became ill, and threw a surprise party with the help of the boys when you came home from the hospital. He was there for all the moments that mattered. You even applied to the same colleges as he did, knowing there was a chance that you might not get accepted. Even if you didn’t you promised that you’d wait for him.

The squeeze of his hand brought you back to the present time. The moment being slightly scary as you started college.

Sensing your hesitation, your boyfriend brought you in for a hug. “Everything will be okay. Don’t worry.”

“It’s all a little scary and a bit unreal. I thought I’d never get here,” you confessed.

“I know it is babe, but we got this. You got this. I’m right here, don’t forget that.” He hugged you tightly.

You had taken the biggest leap and decided to apply for joint housing off of campus. It didn’t really come as a surprise when the application was rejected. Namjoon had joined an academic fraternity, while you had gotten lucky and was granted to live by yourself in a single dorm. You two had tried matching your schedules but only had gotten one class together. He chose English as his major while you chose Art history as yours. He was more excited than you were when you found out that you had gotten into the same poetry class.

“This is so cool!” he exclaimed. One day, early into the relationship you had told Namjoon that you didn’t understand poetry, and that it was just a bunch of words made to rhyme. He gasped at your words. “Poetry is one of the most beautiful things on earth. How can you not like it?!” he asked.

“I don’t know. I just never got into it. It never made sense.” you shrugged. Without so much as a word Namjoon got up and left. “Where are you going?” you asked confused as to why he was leaving, A few minutes later he returned from his house and sat by you in the grass.

“I’m going to read you one of my favorite poems.” He said. He cleared his throat and began.

Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream! My spirit not awakening, till the beam Of an Eternity should bring the morrow. Yes! tho’ that long dream were of hopeless sorrow, ’Twere better than the cold reality Of waking life, to him whose heart must be, And hath been still, upon the lovely earth, A chaos of deep passion, from his birth. But should it be—that dream eternally Continuing—as dreams have been to me In my young boyhood—should it thus be given, ’Twere folly still to hope for higher Heaven. For I have revell’d when the sun was bright I’ the summer sky, in dreams of living light, And loveliness,—have left my very heart In climes of mine imagining, apart From mine own home, with beings that have been Of mine own thought—what more could I have seen? ’Twas once—and only once—and the wild hour From my remembrance shall not pass—some power Or spell had bound me—’twas the chilly wind Came o’er me in the night, and left behind Its image on my spirit—or the moon Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon Too coldly—or the stars—howe’er it was That dream was as that night-wind—let it pass.

I have been happy, tho’ [but] in a dream. I have been happy—and I love the theme: Dreams! in their vivid colouring of life As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife Of semblance with reality which brings To the delirious eye, more lovely things Of Paradise and Love—and all our own! Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known.

You looked at him with a new view. You knew he was passionate about writing and poetry, but you had never heard him read any of it aloud.

“Who wrote that?” you asked.

“One of the most underrated poets in history, Edgar Allan Poe.” He went on to explain why that specific poem was his favorite. “Not only is it about the wish for the dream to come true but how the same wish will bring sorrow. He writes about his feelings, about his desire and the sorrow he is feeling. The intention was to show how a dream may be the only hope you have, which is true when you think about it. But it’s a lie to reality. It talks about the motivation, anxiety, and hope you get when dreaming, but wake up knowing it was never going to be true.” You could listen to him go on and on about his passion for poetry.

“Wow,” was all that you could say.

“I told you,” he smirked. “Poetry is such a wonderful thing.”

“Hey Namjoon?” you said looking up at him. “Can you read me some more?”

The biggest and most beautiful smile spread across his face, showing the dimples you became accustomed to. “Of course y/n.” The rest of the afternoon you listened to him read poem after poem. It wasn’t just because of his voice or the fact that he read it to you, but it was because the passion he emitted. He gave the once meaningless words life. He helped you understand what they truly meant. Not long after that day, reading poetry became a staple in your life. Sometimes you would read it alone, other times he would repeat that afternoon and read it to you.

Before you knew it most of your first year at college had passed. You were a wreck during exams. Things weren’t always perfect with Namjoon. You had argued due to the stress you both felt from the upcoming finals. Almost immediately after the arguments you would call him apologizing, and he would do the same when it was his turn to apologize.

“I’m sorry babe. There’s no excuse for the things I said. I’m just so stressed because of-” he began.

“Finals. I know. Honestly I’m sorry too. I should have just let it go. I know you don’t mean anything you say and neither do I. Are we good?” you asked.

“Of course we’re good. I love you y/n” he spoke into the phone. Although you’ve heard that phrase from him before, it still made you weak in the knees. You couldn’t believe how a guy like him, someone so incredible could love someone like you. You were lucky to have him and told him that often.

“I love you too Joonie. I’m so lucky to have you,” you sighed.

“You’re lucky? Nah...if anyone is lucky, it’s me.” he chuckled. “It’s getting late and we’ve got class in the morning. You should go to bed Y/n,” he yawned.

“I will. Goodnight my love.” you said in a soft and tired voice.

“Goodnight jagi,” you loved when he called you that. “Sweet dreams.” with those final words he hung up.

A week or so later when exams were nearly finished, you walked into your poetry class alone, wondering where Namjoon was. You opened the door to see everyone in your class settled into their seats. You spotted your chocolate haired boyfriend in his usual spot, right next to yours.

“When did you get here?” you asked sliding into the chair next to him.

“I had to speak to the professor about my grade so I came early,” he stated without looking at you. A weird vibe was coming from him, it wasn’t normal.

“Is everything okay?” you questioned, as he was staring off into space. “Earth to Namjoon,” you waved your hand in front of his face.

“Hmmm? Oh yeah everything is fine Y/n,” he smiled.

Your professor cleared her throat and announced that today's class would start off a little different.

“One of your classmates has asked to use a portion of class to read aloud a poem that he wrote.” She said aloud. You had thought it was going to be that one kid Jongdae who always offered to read his work aloud, to your surprise it was Namjoon.

“What’s going on?” you whispered before he looked at you and winked.

“You’ll see.” he said getting up from his spot and going to the podium in front of everyone. As always he cleared his throat before beginning. “First of all, I want to give thanks to the professor for letting me do this. Second of all I want to thank my girlfriend for being the wonderful person she is.” He looked at you and you flushed a light pink. “Without her, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. So here goes nothing,” he stated.

“I stare into her eyes, and I see a whole world.

Beautiful stars and planets that mix together, mix with me.

Clear as day and deep as the galaxy,

her eyes suck me in and I have no choice but to go.

I am floating in the constellations of her eyes.

Everything she sees, I feel.

I am covered in those hues of colors.

I feel calm in her eyes.

I feel safe in her eyes.

I feel loved in her eyes.

I never want to leave this abyss of bliss.

Like a hug wrapping tightly around me,

her eyes hold me close.

I am lost, I am found.

I enjoy being lost and feel pure joy at being found.

I stare into her eyes, and I see my future.

Love mixed with hope mixed with life mixed with me.

Moving me in the Milky Way,

tossing me gently.

I long for my world to be hidden in her eyes.

Where we can both escape and never be seen.

Together we’d live, in the calm of her eyes.

In a world of beautiful stars and planets that mix together, mix with me”

The words that he spoke brought tears of happiness to your eyes.

“Y/n,” he said coming out from behind the podium. “I have waited my short lifetime to meet someone as special as you. Although we are young, my soul is old, as I’ve often been told. It came alive when you moved in next door to me.” You wiped the now freely falling tears from your cheeks as he dropped down to one knee before you and pulled a small velvety box from his pocket. “Y/n will you please make my life complete and marry me?”

The students around you gasped in surprise. You stared at the beautiful boy in front of you. The first real friend you’ve ever had, the first real boyfriend you ever had, the only love you’ve ever experienced. “Yes. Joonie, I will,” you answered him, leaning forward to frame his face with your hands and pressing your lips to his. “I will. I love you.” He smiled against your lips as the room filled with congratulatory clapping.

“I love you y/n.”

#kpopwonderlandtag #kim namjoon #kim namjoon fluff #bts rm #bts rm fluff #bts namjoon #bts namjoon fluff #kim namjoon scenario #bts rm scenario #kim namjoon fanfic #bts rm fanfic #minsugasnerd

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anoceaninthesun · 5 years ago

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What do you think of reviewers who post at the last chapter and say, "I usually review only on the last chapter. I like your story blah blah blah" Doesn't this common habit among the fandom readers take away any motivation for writers to update frequently? I feel there are more reviews for people who update once a month, than people who update once in three days.

This is interesting because despite the main way I interact with fandom spaces being from writing fanfics, I generally don’t get asked much about my opinions on reviews, despite having loads of them. Caveat to my response is I speak mainly from my own experience with maybe brief generalizations I feel fanfic writers would more or less agree on.

To the first part of the question, um, well honestly even if infrequent I guess I’d prefer to see people review throughout. This is because my fics tend to be longer. I do often get reviews from people along the lines of “I would’ve stopped to review sooner but I just got so caught up in binging I waited until there was nothing left to read, whoops” I get that sometimes that’s true. If it’s a really thoughtfully constructed longer review than I guess I’m good with that. If it’s 36 chapters published in the span of two years with over 200,000+ words (which is where ASiT currently sits) and you give me maybe two lines....yeah, I can say you likely aren’t exactly my favorite person when I open your review. 🤣

But this is because I spent two years cranking this out piece by piece and the returned investment is already so little I feel two sentences to sum up all that’s been read and processed and hopefully enjoyed, is less than the bare minimum. So in summary on that less is never more for longer works in my opinion. If you’d like to leave shorter comments here and there that are chapter specific as you read it makes a lot more sense for me.

Yes, lazy reviews in short absolutely do drain away motivation. I’ll just bluntly come out and say that. By lazy I mean the specific kind of reviewer often admits they thought it was okay to keep reading and not review, not even at the end, and they tend to pop up only when there hasn’t been an update in a while. That’s....yeah.

Personally I hardly ever do every three day updates. When a story is in its infancy and I’m trying to get a feel for how it’ll take off so I’m cranking out these short chapters consecutively you may see me do that with little regard to how many reviews the chapters are getting as long as it ups the word count, which in turn often makes the story easier to find and generates attention....but on longer works I strongly advise against trying to do updates weekly. Why? Well on systems like FFN (Fanfiction dot net), this will actually not move your work to the top of the system when the page refreshes.

Due to an outdated algorithm they have, one of many, it has to be like 8+ days between chapters before updating will cause your story to float to the top of the fandom’s page of recently updated fics. So for example if you update every three days, people already following and favoriting may be alerted but new readers just scrolling through not using tags won’t see it because it’ll have been buried. So yes people who update monthly absolutely do usually (notice italics) get more traffic than people updating much, much more frequently. Updating that frequently can also give readers a sense of entitlement in my experience and the experiences of other writers I’ve heard from.

Chapters get cranked out soooo steadily and quickly that many people won’t feel it necessary to post feedback. They’re not being made to wait and for some (for sure not all but many!!) readers the wait is all they care about. If they’re not waiting/ “being inconvenienced” then they’re not going to comment. That is their sole reason to want to reach out to you to remind you in some way, sometimes politely and sometimes rudely, that they’re still waiting.

That being said, we are most definitely not machines. I know when I discovered fanfic I was barely in double digits and when I clumsily posted my now long-ago-deleted first work, I could hardly be considered a teenager. Now I am an adult, albeit not a very old one, and my priorities have for sure shifted and the free time I found in abundance even in high school, is a lot more limited. I’ve got a lot going on at any given time. A lot of things require me to devote myself to them pretty thoroughly.

Social lives don’t make themselves; you have to work to keep cultivating those no matter if the relationship is platonic, familial, romantic or otherwise. Animals tend to be less likely to bite the hand that feeds them (not that they have in my case) when you spend time raising and training them and then keeping up that bond—not that anyone asked but right now my whole thing is experimenting with fruit salad combos I made myself to see what my new baby bird likes, and renovating his cage so he’s constantly stimulated enough not to try to figure out the locks😂😂.

I’m gearing up to try to kill myself with school again by going for a D.PH next fall (which means I need to apply now and that in itself is a long and expensive process) because living even remotely close to three decades (which is what I would be when I finally finished it) is overrated anyway. If that doesn’t work I can always shave about the same amount of time off my life with emergency disaster management work. So what I’m saying is, all the stuff that young adult me has been juggling for the last three years or so, ten or fifteen year old me would have no clue about in terms of priorities. She could read fics and write fics, read fics and write fics in a cycle.

People want me and writers who are just as busy as me to update frequently, so make it worth our while. Show us why you, the readers, are worth devoting a probably limited chunk of our free time to keep happy with a craft we’ve honed (in my case professionally with the help of degrees), when we could be doing literally anything else. I don’t advise people slaving away at a keyboard to put free fics out there every three days and then getting discouraged when it’s not received as well as they’d like, when nothing is wrong with updating monthly, or hell, even every six months if that’s all your personal schedule allows for.

Sometimes I do surprise updates sooner than expected when a reader has really made my day with a solid review that encouraged me to jump start my writing process or when something has gone well in life and I turn to my writing or when I myself am sick of not finding what I wanna read and want to see more of what I’ve written admittedly partially from wish fulfillment put down to page. But never count on that a writer will feel generous for nothing, is my advise to readers. And if you, anon, are a writer, or some of my aspiring fellow fanfic writers see this, again, go at your own pace to avoid burnout. It’s a really fun hobby that has undoubtedly brought me endless joy but existential rewards aside it can be thankless. You will feel unmotivated and unappreciated at times.

Especially when reviewers roll in after long absences on their parts to feed you a line about why they hadn’t reviewed for a while until you chased them out of your inbox with a broom for badgering you between updates. Hopefully this wasn’t too rambling to get something from. Thank you for the ask.

#long post #writing #fanfic writing #woes of a fic writer #anon ask

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nancywheelxr · 6 years ago

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(our friends set us up on a blind date as a prank because we don’t like each other but neither of us wants to let them win so ) | Part 5:

( part 1 ) ( part 2 ) ( part 3 ) ( part 4 )

For once, Winn isn’t late.

In fact, he’s five minutes early.

And if this might have something to do with the fact that Brainy knocked on his door half an hour ago to remind him they should carpool this time, well. Alex and Kara don’t have to know that.

“See who needs an I’m late jar,” he scoffs, glaring at the closed door. They are getting better at this fake dating things, he thinks. But maybe it’s just that this is the first big gathering they’re going together– yesterday totally doesn’t count, there were too many shenanigans to count. Today is the real test, if they can fool everyone during Kara’s dinner, then they really can do this.

“You are talking to yourself,” Brainy comments, reaching past Winn to try and ring the doorbell again, but Winn bats his hand away. “Maybe they didn’t hear us the first time! You are mumbling– did you know that is one of the first signs of–”

“That sentence better be ending with genius or– hey,” Winn loudly draws out the word as the door swings open, hoping to cover up their argument, and snatches his hand back from where it had been pointing a finger threateningly. He brandishes the champagne they brought, grinning up, “Happy New Year!”

It’s Alex that answers the door, but she looks harried, her usual impeccable DEO uniform is askew, boots unlaced, “oh thank god,” she pushes them out of the way, locking up behind her, “Marlo is threatening to blow up the hospital and Town Square, dinner is canceled. Kara’s already there and I’m on my way to the hospital.”

“They put up a giant screen on Town Square, half the city’s there to watch the ball drop live– hundreds of people–”

“Yeah, I know,” Alex throws him a key, already shooing them back to the elevator, “which is why I need you and Brainy in the DEO asap. If he’s using the kind of weapons he deals, then we can’t waste any more time. Take Kara’s car, it’s on the garage somewhere but it should be working.”

“Kara has a car?”

“Why would Supergirl have a car?”

“Okay, you two need to learn to use your inside voices,” she huffs, pressing the buttons with more force than necessary, “and of course she does, she’s just terrible at driving.”

The elevator music plays obnoxiously cheerful as ever, and Alex seems about ready to draw her gun and shoot the speaker box right off the wall. Winn isn’t aware of all the details, has no idea where this guy even came from, but part of him is buzzing with excitement, rebelling against the boring civilian life. Don’t get him wrong– blow up the town? Bad, very bad. But also, going back to work? Awesome.

“And I know you still have to take that psych evaluation next week, but this is an emergency,” Alex continues, effectively bursting his bubble. “It’s an all hands on deck night.”

The doors ping open and she is stalking down the hall, leaving Winn and Brainy to figure out for themselves which car is Kara’s. Winn, for one, hopes it’s something very embarrassing that he will be able to lord over her head for the near future.

“I’m adding near-death experience to my list of things that happened in the 21st century,” Brainy tells him as they rush through the hallways at the DEO. Agents are scattered around, like spooked little mice, not knowing what to do, and Winn feels a pang of sympathy for them. Without both Alex and J’onn, they must be even worse off than him. And man, Winn had to listen to Brainy bitching all the way here, “you broke so many traffic laws I lost count– and it’s impossible for me to lose count!”

“For the last time,” Winn does not whine, “we were in a rush! We can’t wait for every red light! Or follow the speed limit and– and jaywalking is also a crime! That guy was clearly jaywalking, alright?”

“I shall drive the next time,” Brainy decides, completely ignoring Winn’s very valid counter-argument, “the probability of a car accident with you behind the wheel is too high.”

“Excuse me? Do you even know how to drive one of our cars?”

“The risk will still be lower.”

“Okay, that’s it, I’m tuning you out,” he says and promptly begins walking faster. Jesus Christ, they are so not going to be able to fool anyone for much longer. He leaves Brainy behind, feeling stupidly smug for reaching the control room first, and heads straight for his old chair–

And for one brief moment, everything’s right in the world.

– Kara’s voice rings through the comms, “guys, I found the bomb in Town Square, it’s in the sewers, how do I shut it down? Hello? Anyone listening?”

“Loud and clear,” Winn says, knowing his smile is stretching for miles. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Brainy finally pushing past a group of panicked agents. “But I need deets, hang on.”

“Winn?” She squeals happily as if there wasn’t a very dangerous device on her hands, “you’re back!”

“Only for tonight,” Alex warns, and it echoes strangely. She must be in the sewers too. “Don’t think I forgot the paperwork.”

“You are no fun,” he deadpans, even as his grin stays in place, even as he scans the sewers for the bomb. Just one more–

It pulls up on its own in the screen. What the–

“I’ve scanned the sewers under the square, we should have visual on the bomb in a few seconds,” Brainy says from the chair at his left, and Winn rolls his eyes. Of course he did. On the screen, the tiny blinking dot is magnified until they can see an X-Ray of the device. “This does not– I’m unfamiliar with this design.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Alex speaks again, “I’ve found mine too. There’s a countdown.”

“It’s going to blow up at midnight, isn’t it?” Winn asks tiredly. Of course it is. A flair for the dramatics is a requirement for bad guys, he’s pretty sure they don’t let you go about your villainy and nefarious business if you fail the theatrics exam. “That being said,” he continues, squinting at the screen, “this is giving me major Fort Rozz vibes. Didn’t we bust some guy dealing Kryptonian tech once?”

“Yeah, Frank McAllison. He had been buying things off the escaped inmates and reselling– and it wasn’t just Kryptonian either.” Alex recites, and he can hear the frown in her voice, “you think these came from him?”

“I mean, there was no way to be sure we got all of the stuff back,” he shrugs, watching Brainy turn the bomb’s schematics around, “but if it was from Fort Rozz…” he trails off, trying to remember if they downloaded all the data from the prison before Kara sent it flying off into space.

“It would be on the prison’s inventory,” Brainy finishes, and if this were a cartoon, Winn thinks a lightbulb would appear above his head. He entertains the idea for about half a second because it’s better than dwelling on the two bombs about to blow up two-thirds of the city. Brainy concentrates, connecting with the DEO’s servers, and files flicker on the screen, too quickly for Winn to process. And that– that is so annoying, how he just takes over things. But there’s a countdown and hundreds of people and there’s no way, no way, Winn could fine comb through all these files in time. So it’s fine.

It’s fine.

And if Winn still wants to find a way to mess up the unruffled look he always wear– that’s just another Tuesday.

“There’s a match,” Brainy snaps back, straightening up suddenly on his chair. “It’s a very old Andorian design, hasn’t been used in a few years. Which would make sense if it really was made by an inmate.”

Kara whoops on the comms and Alex’s relieved sigh echoes soon after, slightly distorted by the sewers acoustics. The specifics provided by Fort Rozz’s old files line up perfectly with the visual they have on Kara’s bomb, down to the last screw and glue, but. There’s always a but. “Not out of the woods yet,” Winn grimaces, pulling up the scans he got from Alex’s device. It’s a different style, probably from a different maker, just different enough to throw them for a loop and lose them a time they definitely don’t have. He glances at the clock; five to midnight. “Hate to be a downer, but Houston, we have a problem.”

“Of course we do,” Kara grumbles, sighing a twin sigh from Alex’s, “what now?”

“They’re different bombs,” Brainy tells her, and there’s something tired on his voice that makes Winn think that unruffled might not be such an accurate descriptor as he originally thought. “And Director Danvers’s has no match on the server.”

The clock keeps ticking mercilessly, and a few of the nearby agents are beginning to look nervously between them, hands hovering over their phones. That’s not good; if word gets out–

“You can figure out how this thing works faster,” Winn says, turning to Brainy. The look on his eyes is two shades off deer caught in the headlights, at the most, but it vanishes quickly, determination setting in firmly after. “I’ll walk Supergirl through disarming hers, you worry about Alex’s.”

Brainy doesn’t hesitate, only casts him a doubtful look as he focuses on his task, “the files are in Kryptonian.”

“I know that,” he glowers, inching his chair further away with petty vindication, then clears his throat. “Okay, Supergirl, I’m not even going to try to pronounce all this, so let’s all use a bit of imagination with the literal translation, alright?”

Kara makes an affirmative noise, and fine, it’s been literal years since Winn had to teach himself the basics to fight off Indigo, he might be more than a little rusty, but it’s all they have as of right now so they’ll have to make do. Faintly, he catches bits of whatever Brainy is telling Alex, barely aware of anything that isn’t translating the confusing symbols into things that make sense and complementing with bits of engineering and mechanics he knows like the back of his hand.

Two minutes to midnight.

The bomb is halfway undone.

One minute to midnight.

Is it unscrewing the third screw or tearing off the wires?

Thirty seconds.

Definitely tearing off the wires.

Right?

Ten seconds.

Okay. Just– there should be a pop! noise any time now.

Five seconds.

Anytime now.

1–

An explosion goes off in the sky as fireworks outshine the stars with bright, colorful lights, and a crowd cheers the New Year, drunkenly loud, almost drowning out the twin pop! sounds of the bombs’ detonators falling off harmlessly in the dirty water of National City’s sewer system.

A wave of clapping begins behind them, and Kara is laughing breathlessly in the comms with Alex cursing her heart out in a tone too relieved to be taken seriously. One of the agents brings an open champagne bottle.

“Happy New Year, guys!” Kara gushes, “you so need to see the fireworks– it’s so beautiful!”

“Kara, if I see you hovering anywhere near the fireworks when I come out of the sewers,” Alex threatens without any real bite, “I swear to god– wow. Okay, she’s really not exaggerating this time.” A pause. “Happy New Year.”

Winn slouches on his chair, giggling incredulously, exhaling so unbelievably relieved, and turns to see Brainy leaning against the consoles, the tense line of his shoulders less tight-edged. “Hey,” he says, holding his hand up for a fist bump and not caring if his voice comes out softer than he intended. “Happy New Year.”

Brainy regards his hand with an odd expression, one Winn can’t quite decipher, before tilting his head with a small smile, “Happy New Year, Winslow.”

He returns the fist-bump.

It’s a quiet moment, with the world cheering on outside and the odd, unnamed look on Brainys eyes, but if Winn had to label it, he thinks it just might mean progress.

#winn schott #querl dox #brainy #alex danvers #kara danvers #winndox #fake dating #when in rome #gooosh everyone's finally left so i can finally go back to writing #now i can go through my asks again! promise!#i just really wanted to get this new year chapter out of the way first #totally played myself with this btw #its dumb bitch oclock i guess #anyway back to the barely barely fuzzy idea i have to where this is going #also saw into the spiderverse #not that its relevant here but that is a thing that happened

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