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goggles-mcgee · 4 years ago

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Too Late: Master Fu (commission for miner249er)

Chapter 7 of the commission for @miner249er

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Summary: Living for so long, it's hard not to just hide in a pattern and want to live in the past, even if the best thing is moving forward.

Wang Fu was no stranger to failure and mistakes, and though he liked to believe he had grown past those failures and mistakes, that he had learned and healed past them, now was not one such moment. He wasn’t a man of technology but he did own a television, not at first, but when Adrien and...and Marinette started out as Ladybug and Chat Noir he thought it would benefit him greatly to have an eye out for them. The best way he could do so in his age was the news, he would know about an akuma before his young heroes got to the scene so he would be prepared just in case Marinette would need to come over and borrow a Miraculous. Watching the fights filled him with dread but he would do it because it was one of the only ways he felt he could be useful to Marinette and Adrien, he couldn’t transform anymore, well he could, just not for long. Not long enough to be any real help. Maybe that’s why he ignored the signs.

The signs that screamed at him that something was wrong with Marinette, with her and Chat Noir’s dynamic, that something was desperately eating at her. They say ignorance is bliss, but Fu wasn’t so sure about that, it could be, maybe, in the moment when one is ignorant, but when reality comes crashing down you would have wished you had not been so blind. That is where Fu had found himself lately, trapped in that thinking time and time again. The news reports about Marinette had not helped that in the least, and they way the spoke about her enraged and saddened him all at once and though he was thankful that Hawkmoth was no longer a threat so he was able to be mad and sad, he could not find delight in the villain’s “disappearance” since it cost him the closest thing to family he had.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Fu had never thought he would get so attached to someone, he had never done so before, so it surprised him how easily Marinette squeezed herself into his heart. He hadn’t even had to think about who he would pass down the title and responsibility of Guardian to as soon as he got to know her. Even picking her as a hero had been easy, her soul was pure and it sang with creativity and love. When they got to interact with each other more, Fu began to care for her more and more as the days passed, he fully expected her to only visit for Guardian related things but to his delight and surprise, Marinette paid him many visits. From coming simply to see how he was doing, to bringing him some of her family’s pastries, each visit was a treasured moment for Fu.

Her kindness knew no bounds. If she knew he was having a bad day, pains and aches wise, she would bring him some tiger balm that her mom had bought. He had expressed his concern that her mother would notice and get mad with Marinette but Marinette had only laughed and told him that her mother has so many containers of tiger balm around the house and she always buys new ones even though she has, in Marinette’s words, ‘literally a million others.’ That memory brought a smile to his face and a pang to his heart nowadays. He remembered fondly how Marinette would come over and ask for Mandarin lessons since she only spoke Yue and she wanted to surprise her mother’s uncle next time he visited. Fu had been all too happy to assist her. He loved getting to pass on his knowledge and Marinette had been a great student. He even got to teach her how to brew tea.

For all her kindness, she never let it blind her, she let it lead her. She saw the good in people and strived to be the good they could strive to be as well. Wang Fu had admired her kindness and tried his best to live up to that level, where Marinette’s kindness was a strength, Fu’s became a weakness. His kindness blinded him. That was the only conclusion he could solidly come to after everything had changed. Before Marinette was...was akumatized. How else could he have missed the way that Ladybug, that Marinette, had looked during each battle on TV when Chat Noir would joke around...no when he would flirt and distract her from the fight. How stressed she seemed to get after each battle, after each patrol, how she would subtly try to bring up Chat Noir during their visits. Fu had thought nothing of it, or maybe he really did notice and had just willfully ignored everything.

Adrien Agreste was much like Wang Fu. Maybe that’s why he also turned a blind eye towards everything or why he didn’t notice other things. Adrien was a boy trapped by a role he never wanted, or a role he tricked himself into wanting and, or liking, much like Fu had done when he was taken from his family and taken to the Temple of the Order of the Guardians to train as a Guardian. Leaving his family had torn Wang Fu apart, he could have no trace of them in the Temple, not even his name, that too had been stripped from him along with any personal belongings. Truth be told he had forgotten his original name, time and the Order did that and it caused him so much sorrow. He remembered trying to write his old name anywhere he could get away with as a way to remember. He was always caught. So he stopped fighting and fully embraced being Wang Fu, Guardian of a Miracle Box, though at the time he never would have imagined being the Guardian of the most important Miracle Box in the Temple.

So it was easy for Fu to sympathize with Adrien, to him, Adrien joking and flirting around as Chat Noir was in a way the same as Fu trying to write his given name. Adrien just wanted to be free and Fu could understand that all too well. To live under strict rules that made you feel like you were doing anything but living, it was suffocating. So he had been soft on the boy, and that was another mistake for Wang Fu to add to his list, but he would put it up with causing the destruction of the Order of the Guardians and not fighting when he had to “leave” his family. Only because it seemed to be the catalyst to the whole butterfly effect that set everything that had happened into motion. Maybe if he had just spoken with Adrien, had been firm with him, maybe Adrien would have strived to become better rather than just be content with the freedom he had and not thinking of the consequences.

He should have strived to be better, a better man, a better hero, a better Guardian. For as much as Fu spoke and thought and remembered his hatred of the Order and their rules he didn’t try to improve upon them when he fled. No instead he followed those rules that had shackled him and kept him prisoner for as long and as brief as they had. Maybe if he had not lived in fear and guilt maybe he would have been strong enough to tell Adrien he was being unreasonable and maybe he would have told Marinette that she needed to take breaks more often and to just focus on one thing at a time. The kwami also had a lot to learn and that was on him for not teaching them and communicating with them. He should have made it clear that teenagers, no, that people in general, have changed. You can’t be too laid back, sometimes your holder will need guidance. Don’t be too positive and try to enforce that positivity on someone, positivity can become toxic and telling someone they always have to be happy or they always have to be the bigger person is not helping as much as you think it was.

Tikki, Plagg, and him had had a very long discussion at his house about that and about their mistakes in general. Both kwami were displeased with Fu and how he handled everything and honestly he didn’t blame them, but he could tell they took his words to heart as well. Plagg...Plagg hadn’t been eating as much since he was back in Fu’s possession, ever since he was taken from Adrien, and Tikki...Tikki hadn’t spoken a word after their talk. All she did was watch the TV and all the news channels, anything that was about Marinette she would watch, and undoubtedly she would get angry or sad and all the plants in Fu’s house would grow exponentially. All the other kwami tried to comfort her and get her to talk or even just rest inside the Miracle Box for a bit, even Plagg had tried, but the kwami of Creation did not budge. Now Fu could say he understood but that would be a lie, although he and Wayyz were compatible and they enjoyed each other's company, the two of them were not a true match. Tikki and Marinette on the other hand...those two were a true match, two souls connected and bonded, and for a kwami to lose one was said to be unbearable.

In Tikki and Plagg’s silence and sudden mood change, Sass and Longg had been more talkative and desperate than he had ever witnessed before. The snake and dragon kwami had explained to him exactly what their holders had been doing and had done their best to apologize to Tikki, but she had yet to acknowledge their efforts. They were similar to Plagg, their holder may not be a perfect match with them but they were close, so close, so to lose them was painful to them too. They had desperately tried to convince him to give them back to their respective holder, and again they had pleaded with him to do so today as he took a walk to get some air. He had brought them with him so that Tikki and Plagg could get some peace and quiet back at his house, and plus he felt like the two elder kwami needed the time alone. Fu just hoped they could help each other since he and the other kwami were struggling to do so.

“Masster, I undersstand your hessitancce, but I will assk once again, give Luka and Misss Kagami another chanccce. Their heartss were in the right placce.” Sass stated once more, though this time he was hiding himself in Fu’s shoulder bag as he went on his aimless walk.

“Sass is right, Master. I will admit, our holders were hasty in their quest for justice, but in the end their actions were done out of love and loyalty and a wish to help.” Long added.

“I understand that. Know that I do you two, but also acknowledge the fact that Hawkmoth is gone. The reason for the heroes is gone. What reason is there for you to be given back to those children?” Fu replied not unkindly, just with the facts that had been staring at him day after day.

“Masster...you don’t believe that. Yess, true as it may be that Hawkmoth iss gone, we never know when danger comess. Besidess, we don’t know where Miss Marinette iss...I know you want to find her, and Luka and Kagami want to find her too. They can help and they know how to use Longg and I’ss Miraculouss.” Sass replied after a while, and though Fu was reluctant to admit it, the kwami had a point.

“We don’t even know where to begin to look...but you do raise some good points Sass.” Fu muttered, he was grateful for today’s technology as it looked as though he was merely speaking into a Bluetooth speaker, a gift from Marinette, one of many. She had explained it was a good way to speak to the kwami without anyone getting suspicious. Truly the girl was a creative soul, and very smart.

“And, if I may say so Master, this world is not the one of old. The rules made for then do not apply to now, at least that is what myself, Sass, and other kwami believe. The traditional rules demanded our power not be used unless there are other Miraculi active or if the world we inhabit is well and truly on its way to destruction.” Long began after a moment of silence. “Even the word hero has changed, it became a role we never anticipated. I think it is time we change the rules and our views, otherwise, we stand no chance in this new world Wang Fu.”

Fu found himself short of words. Long was right, in all the years he had been alive he had watched the world change, it was a beautiful frightening thing to behold. Yet, in all those years of change, he never thought to change himself along with the world. He had been so stuck in guilt and fear that he mentally trapped himself in a prison of his own design, a prison shaped like a temple that had been lost long ago. There was no excuse really, the truth was plain and simple, Fu was scared. Scared that if he broke the rules that were trained into him from a young age then there would be no redemption, there would be no point in his survival. But the world had changed and maybe Fu did too and could change for the better, because even if the threats to the world weren’t imminent, they were persistent and prominent.

Change was good.

“You believe this change we need is to stay active?” He asked after a while.

“I believe that is a step, yes.” Longg responded and Fu could hear the smile in his voice. “This world needs help and we...we need help too.”

“Longg iss right. You were correct in giving all of uss involved a talking to. At the time we didn’t want to lissten, but the factss are we kwami no longer know how to connect and coexisst in this world with humanss.” Sass admitted, and it was another shock for Fu but at the same time, what they were saying was convincing and true. All of them, not just the kwami, Fu included, had been sheltered away from the world. It was not the advantage Fu or even past Guardians thought it was.

The sounds of children’s laughter brought Fu out of whatever reply he found worthy to give Sass and Longg, he kind of wished Wayzz would give his opinion on the matter but he understood why the kwami was letting his brethren speak their mind. Fu looked around to see where his walk had taken him and felt a pang in his heart and his breath stolen from him for a moment, he had walked to the park next to Marinette’s home. For a while all he did was stand there and take it in before he gave himself a wry smile and decided to take a seat on one of the benches near the fountains. It was a spot Marinette had told him was one of her favorites to sketch at. Sitting there brought fresh tears to his eyes, tears he thought were all cried out.

“I think you two are right, but we will not rush into this. We need to be smart about this.”

“I believe that is the wise thing to do, Master.” Wayzz finally gave his opinion along with a small discrete nuzzle to Fu’s cheek.

“As do I, my friend. As do I.” He chuckled in response.

After that the kwami let him sit there in silence and just reflect and remember. Truly he was grateful for that. He needed some quiet to himself, not the quiet of his home, that was a tense quiet that put an ache in his bones. No he needed this quiet, the quiet of being alone in your thoughts while hearing the noise of everything around you. Sass and Longg both had great points and though he loathed to admit it, if something did happen he wasn’t sure he would be able to do anything or at the very least get help. Fu didn’t like to think about his age much, he didn’t even celebrate his birthday before Marinette, because his age showed how long he had run from his guilt and it showed him his limitations. It would be best to have a team on standby just in case, and besides maybe they could help with just regular crime and disasters too. Yes a team really would benefit them all, but the who of it was where he was struggling.

He already decided he would not give out Tikki and Plagg...they weren’t ready to be out again and he couldn’t imagine giving the earrings to anyone but Marinette. He feared what Tikki’s reaction would be if he even considered the idea. No, it was best that those Miraculi stayed in the box, along with Duusuu who was still healing from being damaged and misused. He would consider Mlle Tsuguri and M Couffaine again as heroes, after all he was intimately familiar with making a mistake, and they made a mistake but they were trying to do the right thing. They were also Marinette’s most trusted friends, she trusted them with her secrets and her friendship, that was enough for Fu. Though he would still test them to see if they could handle being heroes once more. Adrien...Adrien he didn’t know what to do with. With everything that happened he had no way of knowing if their talks did anything. He hoped beyond hope they did because he truly believed that Adrien was a good kid at heart.

“Look who’s here guys! Timebreaker! What are you doing here? You going to bully us until we disappear too?” Fu heard and he immediately looked up to see a young girl with pink hair surrounded by a couple of other kids her age. He recognized her...ah yes, Alix Kubdel, Marinette had spoken of her a couple times when she told him of her friends and school.

“Careful guys, I wouldn’t touch her, what if we vanish if we do?” One of the girls in the group said with anything but fear in her voice.

Fu frowned and pushed himself up to stand, he couldn’t stand the way the group laughed and seeing as no one else was going to interrupt, he would. “What is this? École?” He paused and saw a girl with long blonde pigtails and a parasol and another with a bob of black hair. He recognized them too, the weather girls from TV that Kaalki liked to watch, Aurore Beauréal and Mireille Caquet.

“Oh back off Aurore.” One of the boys of the group of teasing teens scoffed.

“How about you back off Jackson,” Mireille said which seemed to surprise the lot, “You’ve seen what words can do. We all have.”

“Mireille is right.” Aurore announced, her voice demanding attention. “We are lucky that Hawkmoth is gone, but that does not mean you get to treat people like place mats. Any of you. Just because your victims can’t turn into puppets of a madman to get revenge on you anymore doesn’t give you the right to act like crétins. Shame on all of you.”

“If you insist on acting like children in école, maybe we should just call your parents and let them know how you are behaving. I’m sure they would love to know.” Mireille said with an innocent looking smile.

Fu smiled when the group grumbled and walked away from Mlle Kubdel, he watched as the two weather girls looked her over and spoke to her before the young girl shouldered past them both and ran. The girls looked devastated but all Fu could think of was how heroic it was for them to step up like that. “Heroic indeed…” He mumbled to himself.

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somanyerikas · 3 years ago

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Nostalgia sells - or does it? About BBC’s rehiring of a previous showrunner for Doctor Who as a marketing strategy

All, right, this is the one where I deal with my issues about RTD’s rehiring from the standpoint of BBC’s business strategy . Brace for passive agression, swearwords, brief history of british television and numbers. So, so many numbers.

Allright, so I already wrote a post about my problem with RTD’s (re)hire from the creative standpoint (it’s here in case you’re interested), but hey, I can bitch about it all I want, but we all know what caused the BBC to make this decision, right? You’ve heard about it for sure. The Dropping Ratings. You’ve read about it on so many posts, lots of them probably oh-so-gladly conflating this fact with their own opinion about the deteriorating quality of the show. (Don’t worry, we’ll get to that.) So Obviously the execs at the Big BBC Quarters needed to do something about it, and what better way to go than rehire a guy who’s run at Doctor Who is a warm childhood memory for so many in it’s fanbase? After all, it’s what we’re seeing nowadays: from Star Wars return to wave of 80′s nostalgia to every old blockbuster star doing a comeback, there is but a single conclusion - nostalgia sells.

Or does it?

Part One: Moving with the change; or very much refusing to.

Let’s start this off with some facts about the ratings for Doctor Who. (Well, I warned you there’s gonna be numbers, didn’t I. Stick with me, I’m going somewhere with this I promise.) In it’s beginnings, in the sixties and seventies , the series flown high, averaging a viewership from 8 up to 10 million viewers per season. Collin Baker’s series 17 brought in a record of 11.21 milion viewer asses in front of a good ol’ TV screen, real champagne opener here. But, as it happens, things were downhill from here. During the eighties, the rating started dropping steadily, reaching an all-time low of 4.15 milion couch-warming bottoms in 1989, the last season of the classic era.

Years passed, 16 of those years to be exact, and here comes our saviour RTD. Under his wings, the revived series premiered, bringing in over 10 milion viewers to the premiere episode of season 1, Rose. A viewership this high did not last for long, but still, RTD’s seasons averaged between 7 and 8 milion viewers per season, which seemed pretty respectable. But then, as the story likes to repeat itself, not unlike the bbc execs just did, along came the decline again. Ever since 2010, the ratings began steadily dropping again, from 7.95 in 2010 to 5.46 in 2017. Then DW experienced an unexpected peak in 2018 with the premiere of Jodie Whittaker’s first season, which averaged 7.96 viewing asses, but then continued the dropping trend on the next season, averaging 5.40 viewing butts.

So what went wrong?

You see, part of the reason that Doctor Who was bringing in such great viewership numbers in the 60′s and 70′s, was that, to put it simply, BBC did not have much competition. Or, to be exact, only had one competitor. ITV was literally founded in order to break BBC’s monopoly over British television. But in the 80′s, with the launch of Channel 4 and Sky, the british viewers had more and more options to choose from. So logically speaking, they no longer had to watch BBC’s programming just because there was nothing else on. There was more and more new programes to boredom-watch. And here’s something y’all need to know about the tv industry: the boredom-watchers, the casuals? That’s the most important demographic. As hard as it might be to swallow, us hardcore fans, forum dwellers and Ao3 gremlins, we’re not as big of a group as we’d like to think. Loving fans are important to the tv execs as providers of word-of-mouth advertisment, but the real numbers come from the casual, everyday viewer who will just put on the next episode cause the other one was kinda fun I guess. Or more fun than the other options, anyway.

And this is why, by the way, when someone is conflating low viewership with the show Dissapointing The Fans, they’re full of shit. I’m sorry, but we’re really not that much of a force here, definitely not enough to make such a big impact on the numbers. Another factor, that some of you probably noticed already, is that the numbers I’m quoting are from british tv only, while the online fandom is very much international, so our opinions matter even less to the british execs, I’m sorry again, hard pill to swallow I know, but true nonetheless.

But I digress. So, to sum up the previous paragraph, Doctor Who’s viewership decline in the 80′s was the effect of the changing landscape of the TV industry, with which the BBC struggled to come to terms with.

Sound familiar?

Let’s move on to the 2010′s, shall we?

2010 was is actually a good marker of a year to choose, because it marks one important thing that begun a big change in the industry. This was the year in which Netflix expanded their services overseas, from being a DVD rental company to providing VOD services. Over the next decade streaming services grew in importance, from being an add-on to your cable TV that you didn’t really want but they were throwing it in for cheap, to very much self-sustainable media services you might very well buy instead of buying the cable. And if you look at the numbers for Doctor Who viewership declining over the last 10 years, that’s precisely what’s been happening. It’s not that people don’t want to watch Doctor Who on tv, they don’t want to watch tv in general. Do you know what was the most popular channel in Britain this year? Can you guess? Fucking Netflix that’s what. It’s just slowly-yet-steadily ceasing to be the way we use home entertainment anymore. Again, not much to do with the audience approval, because for that matter, let’s see about the specific episodes that saw the spikes in viewership.

Rose, which i mentioned at the start of it, was for the longest time the unquestionable queen when it comes to viewership, at 10.81 milion. The next episode, The End of the World, pulled in 7.97 - almost 3 millions worth of lost viewer-butts in one week? Is it because it was so much worse than it’s predecessor? No, it simply did not have the smell of Newness, the Event You Must See, and as such brought forth less of the casual viewers who were simply curious about The New Thing. The next season followed the similar formula, peaking at the premiere, when the marketing was at it’s strongest, going down during the season, sometimes rising slightly for the finale, sometimes not. The most popular episodes are, of course, the specials - yet again, the vibe of The Event To Be Seen worked here, but one more thing working to their advantage is they often aired in spaces between seasons, serving as both a long-waited Crumbs of Content for the fans, and the basically stand-alones for the casuals. Do you know what the single most watched episode of revived DW is? No, it’s not Tennant’s goodbye with the role (yeah I know, I thought it had to be that as well). It was Voyage of the Damned, between seasons 3 and 4. The perfect standalone for the casual watcher. And last but not least, you know one more special feature that brought, maybe not as much, but definitely more than expected? The 1996 movie Doctor Who, with 9.08 million. Again, a perfect standalone.

But the standalones aren’t the only way to grab the viewership. The currently-highest viewing non-special episode of DW? The Woman Who Fell to Earth, Jodie Whittaker’s introduction. In 2018 no less, in the year when the streaming was the ruler supreme, this episode brought a whooping 10.96 million buts to the good ol’ TV again. Let me reiterate: this episode brought in more viewers than Rose did in 2005, while having WAY more competition and way less favorable circumstances of release that RTD’s debiut did. Not only that, it managed to bring on some numbers for the entire season as well, not as good of course as the premiere (because again, the Event vibes faded), but still brought a better average than the last six seasons did. (Again, let me reiterate: more than the last SIX seasons. More viewership than any series since 2010, since the Streaming Wars.) So clearly, this must be the way, right? Catering to this Weird New Trend, that saw directors notice there do in fact exist other actors than white men, that surely brought in some profit, even Marvel does it now, right? Out with the old, in with the new!

Part 2 The Deceitful Charm of Nostalgia

Well, it turns out the whole Doing New Things deal didn’t work out that well after all, now did it? The second season penned by Chibbnal averaged 5.40 milion, that’s 2.5 million drop from the previous one! It must mean it didn’t work, right? Well, yes and no. As much as the refreshment of the formula as simple as Let’s Put A Woman In It absolutely worked for one season, it very visibly did not hold up for longer. An Event-Episode is something that can still happen on TV, Event-Series? That’s pretty much reserved for streaming now, if you think about it, and it’s honestly kind of a miracle that Series 11 did as well as it had. Two consecutive Event-Series on network tv? Flat out impossible.

So how to make those ratings great again? How to get those butts in seats of the Good Ol’? Well, the execs of the BBC have a plan for that. They brought in a devouring beast, and it’s name is: Nostalgia.

Without a doubt, there is a number of people who feel nostalgic about RTD’s era of Doctor Who. It’s a lot of people’s fond childhood memory, or the series they started with, and judging by the numbers, there should be quite a lot of them. So the new plan, as it appears, is to get to those who maybe lost interest in the show and lure them with the promise of the thing That Is Totally Like The Thing You Used To Love, Remember? (This is why I don’t actually think that RTD will be allowed to do anything new and interesting, that’s not what they hired him for. And that’s why I think this is bad from the creative standpoint.) So there are two questions here: One, will the people be lured? And two, for how long?

Nostalgia as a marketing strategy is something that you’re probably sick of seeing already (I know I am). But it has very much been effective on many levels, especially the eighties-baiting, Stranger Things style, can bring a new IP up to relevance. But what about old IP’s that want to have a comeback?

It’s kind of dificult to find another TV show that I could compare to Doctor Who. Most series that have been running for that long are mostly soap operas, that operate on slightly different rules, and are also targeted to a different audience. So as much as the movie series is still not exactly the best comparison, when I think about a big IP, campy sci-fi, family-oriented (at least in theory) on its path back to relevance, I think about Star Wars, obviously. The Force Awakens gambled on that nostalgic feeling and won big, but the next two movies, while still financially successful, were nowhere near the astounding success of the first one. And that’s because - you guessed it - it created the Event You Must See again, The Great Comeback, but merely two years later, the comeback became old news. So what we can gain from that is that nostalgia can create an Event as well as a new trend, if not better. But the question remains: how long will that last?

That is, after all, the main difference between a movie franchise and a TV series in the traditional, network TV sense of the word: movie franchise must bring in the viewership every year or two, and TV series must bring in viewers every week for at least two months. Is RTD’s Nostalgia Vibes enough to provide for that?

I’ll say this: I’m absolutely certain that the 60th anniversary will be very popular. I still don’t think it will break any records because, as I’ve been trying to explain for this whole post, it is not 2007 anymore no matter how much the tv execs would like it to be. But ironically, the almost-certain success of the special is the very thing that could undermine the effect of bringing their precious Nostagia Boi back onboard. Remember, the first Event Episode is The Big Oof. That’s the one that gets asses to the Good Ol’, if anything ever does. After the first big event one, that’s the point when things start going down. They’re wasting their Special Event Boi for something that already would be an event, dear fucking gods, I hate your plan and I would still execute it better. Either have RTD be the Anniversary Guy and then hire someone new, use that hype and keep it going, OR have RTD come in after the anniversary, then at least you get the Event Effect for the premiere of his first return season. Fukin’ amateurs.

But even if they did that, here’s the thing: do you think that the people who departed from the show years ago actually want to watch another three to five seasons of The RTD Show? I mean, I’m sure the thought warmed some hearts, for sure. A number of people will definitely gladly watch the anniversary, probably the first few episodes of the first return to the basics, but after that? In the world when, due to streaming, they have an easy way to revisit the actual thing they’re nostalgic towards? I honestly don’t think so. And you’re not really gonna get many new people by going back, if that nostalgia factor isn’t there. And then there’s casual viewers, the backbone, as we established. And here’s the thing: lots of those people don’t even know who the current showrunner is, cause they’re not Terminally Online like we are, and the second thing? Lots of those people ARE JUST NOT WATCHING NETWORK TV, IM SORRY GARRY. They’re just. They’re just not. I don’t know how to spell it out better. Even my mum has netflix now. Your biggest base is in another castle mate, gotta get moving and gotta get moving quick, cause here’s another thing: all the nostalgia in the world will not do SHIT for you if your target, people who were kids/teens when the RTD era was airing, PROBABLY DON’T EVEN HAVE A FUCKING TV ANYMORE CAUSE THEY MOVED OUT OF THEIR PARENTS FLAT AND LOTS OF YOUNG PEOPLE JUST DON’T BOTHER. Just. I’m sorry but you’re trying to resuscitate a decade-deceased corpse there buddy. It just won’t work. The times have changed and you gotta swim or drown, and it’s just not gonna be 2005 again, no matter how hard you pretend it is. It’s not your content it’s your business model. Just push more marketing for your iplayer or whatever, focus on streaming as your primary not your secondary cause that’s just what it is now, and maybe don’t rely on the viewer-counting systems of the yesteryear to evaluate your business. Or else you’re gonna get stuck sacrificing the creative growth of your show for a marketing strategy that probably won’t even fucking WORK.

There, I got it of my chest. Feel free to reblog, and also: you somehow got to the end of this, congrats! I’ll make numbers nerds out of y’all yet.

#it's like. my sister and I were #watching a movie lately. the one with multiple will smiths and the de-aging tech #(don't recommend it it's real boring)#but when Youngened Will Smith appeared on the screen my sister got my spiting my tea laughing by innocently saying:#"oh i don't know this actor. it's nice that they're giving opportunities to the young actors. great to see a new face in the biz''#and u know what #this rehire is the same fucking vibe to me #some cunts from marketing plastering make-up to an old man's face and pretending its 2005 still #anyway #doctor who #i guess.

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extravaguk · 4 years ago

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santa&prada

part of my opposites attract! series.

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / kth / jjk

pairing: rich!jimin x reader

summary: Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

wordcount: 5k

genre: smut - angst(? - fluff (? idk u tell me

rated: m

warnings: a christmas fic in late november, cursing, a huge misunderstanding lmao, i call jimin ‘park jimin’ too many times bc i felt like it, car sex, oral (f recieving), some good ole spanking, (kinda) rough and unprotected sex, a lil of dirty talk, spit kink. thats about it. just an excuse to write jimin fucking you in a car. jimin is not as bad as oc thinks srsly.

The first time you meet Park Jimin is through mutual friends. On a firday night on December, with white, red and green lights decorating the streets of New York, filled with the typical hustle of the masses doing last minute Christmas shopping, the freezing weather impacting your body temperature, cursing yourself for choosing tights, a skirt and heeled boots that are too pretty but too uncomfortable to wear.

You had never considered yourself a particular enthusiast of Christmas festivities. You guess discovering Santa Claus was, actually, your parents before the rest of the kids in your class was one of the many reasons that made you grow up too soon and therefore, not allowing you to fully enjoy the month of December. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Santa, and more to do with your parents deciding to get a divorce a day before Christmas Eve. A traumatic event for seven year old you, but completely forgotten and overcome by twenty-four year old present you.

Growing up each Christmas suffering the consecuences of a shared custody would have probably had a disastrous effect on anybody else, but not you. Although the separation was a tough reality to accept at first, fortunately your parents were always capable of raising you in an environment full of love and affection, just like any other kid. And you prided yourself on having moved on from those circumstances a long time ago (even if your therapist disagreed and blamed many of your behaviors on it. Whatever.)

To put it simply, December was just not the month for you. It was just another month, like the remaining eleven of the year, except Mariah Carey's voice was heard every five minutes everywhere you'd go and people gave each other presents as if it was only during that time of the year when they remembered their loved ones.

The only thing you could thank Christmas for were the well deserved two weeks of holidays our work allowed until the new year's arrival. Fifteen days of rest, peace and baking those gingerbread cookies that Seokjin died for and that you sincerely denoted as nauseating.

You truly had no idea what exactly you did wrong that night. You don't know if it was something you said, or something you did, but what you did know was that Park Jimin pursued a silent and personal vendetta against you that continued nowadays.

"Here are your disgusting cookies, you filthy animal." it might have been that very first sentence you said when you entered the bar and reunited with your friends that didn't cause a good impression. "Shit, it's cold as fuck. My nipples are harder than my life." or maybe it was your selection of words while you waved every familiar face hello until you stopped to look at the only (pretty. too pretty, as well) one you had never seen before.

"_____, it's Chrismtas! Santa Clause will only bring you a lump of coal if you keep cursing like that!" Lisa laughed while she kissed your cheek and made space for you to sit next to her. "Oh, by the way, this is Jimin. A friend of Namjoon. He's a newbie!"

Park Jimin was stunning, you had no trouble admitting that. You weren't blind, you weren't stupid, and you could go as far as theorize that his dark eyes, his light and always immaculate styled hair, his sharp jawline and those plump lips as red as cherries must have been sculpted by Satan himself.

Fuck, you were even sure you'd be on your knees in front of Park Jimin in an alternative universe begging for his dick inside your mouth. But in the universe where you and the real Park Jimin reside, he would never come near you unless somebody was aiming a gun into his skull.

You're not precisely sure what it was, but a brief exchange of glances and an evasive and sligh shake of hands with Park Jimin was enough to make you feel ashamed and withdrawn for the rest of the night.

If Jimin wasn't even able to drop a polite "Nice to meet you", he sure as hell wasn't able to pretend you even existed.

Even the small talk you had tried to engaged with him about his shiny pair of shoes went terribly wrong.

"Oh, are those Dolce and Gabbana?"

"Dolce and Gabbana are homphobic, racist and sexist, so no" the grimace on his face should've been enough to make you regret speaking to him in the first place , but the snarky voice of his made you want to run away and hide from him until next Christmas.

In reality, you swore you didn't care. Seriously. Other's opinions were never something that could easily bother you or keep you awake at night. You had always turned a deaf ear to the cruel children that made fun of you due to your parent's divorce, you had always ignored the amount of men that never considered you "ladylike" enough (what the fuck did that even mean, anyway? what exactly made a lady and what didn't?), and you had always disregarded any envous comment surrounding you.

So, fuck Park Jimin! You had said to yourself. He's just a well mannered rich boy. Somebody who didn't resemble you in any aspect. A stupid, pretentious, spoiled boy who's had everything he's ever wanted in the palm of his hand, unlike you. Who the fuck cares what Park Jimin thinks?

But apparently, you did.

You would have never placed such importance to whatever it was that roamed inside Jimin's head if his appearances in your group of friends hadn't been so recurrent.

Because each time you were forced to see Jimin's face, you were also forced to experience a strange knot of discomfort and humilliation growing in your stomach in his mere presence. It's not like Jimin did anything specific to make you feel that way. He might not even do it on purpose, or his intentions might not be entirely evil. Maybe he simply didn't realize how he always avoided being by your side like the plague, or how his body immediately tensed and he balled his hands into fists everytime you were less than two feet away from him, or how he would look at you from the corner of his eye everytime you decided you speak, almost as if he was waiting for you to shut up to finally let out the air he was containing inside his lungs in relief.

Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

And with time, you couldn't help but attribute that disdain and hostility that Park Jimin always directed at you to the many undeniable differences that constituted each of you. Park Jimin, with his impeccable and always well ironed Prada shirts, his spotless trousers, jewelry that probably costed more than three of your annual salaries, and always emanating that Givenchy fragance that screamed "wealth!" every rare occasion you could experiment his presence next to you. Exactly two years after that first meeting with Park Jimin, you hadn't been able to avoid reciprocating that feeling of contempt towards him. Not when you were the only victim of his arrogance. Everybody loved Park Jimin, and Park Jimin loved everyone.

Except you.

Clinging to your glass of Don Pérignon and finishing the rest of the liquid in one go, you try to snap out of your own thoughts, reminding yourself to return to the conversation you're currently having with Taehyung about a pretty waitress that he's met during one of his art exhibitions (or at least that's what you think you caught him say) and forcing yourself by all means to stop observing the friendly and kind smiles that Park Jimin was shooting to those present from across the room and that you will never be able to achieve.

"_____? Are you even listening to me, darling?" Taehyung's voice is what makes you finally look away from the dumb blond standing on the opposite side of the room, blinking a few times before clearing your throat.

"Sorry, Tae." letting out a sigh, you try to brush back and put in place the strand of hair that escaped the intricate hairdo you had tried and so miserably failed to do yourself to try to fit in and hopefully impress such environment of preppy and privilaged people (ahem, Park Jimin) falling on your forehead as best as you can. "Just been really stressed this week and I'm on another planet. You know how I feel about Christmas. I think I need a new flute of . Or five."

Taehyung sends you a look full of empathy and places one of his hands in your shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way. "I'll get you another one. I'll be right back." You quickly interrupt him though, to prevent him from standing up before you.

"No, really. I'll go. I need some fresh air anyways, if you don't mind." And of course Taehyung doesn't mind, so you get on your feet as graceously as your tipsy state allowed you to (who told you it was a good idea to drink three glasses in less than thirty minutes of the extremely expensive champagne Taehyung had brought to the Christmas party he had organized and why did it convince you it would appease your anxiey?) and make your way towards the table where the rest of the bottles are. A table dangerously close to the conversation Jimin and that friend of Lisa (whose name you don't remember) were having.

Both are with their backs turned and, honestly, you take a silent moment to thank God or whatever is up there because the last thing you need right now is yet another awkward interaction with Jimin, so you try as best as you can to refill your glass of champagne to get out of there as soon as possible, praying to make your exit going unnoticed.

But no. Because the stars and the universe loved to align to make you suffer! They love to play with your karma and they love making you damn that one day you didn't help that lady cross the street. They love making you regret buying those plastic straws. They love making you feel guilty for hacking your neighbour's Wifi when you run out of money to pay for yours. Because the moment you try to take a hold of the bottle in your hands, it slips out of your grasp, and you're watching in slow motion how the sparkling berverage ends up spilling all over the extremely expensive (or so you assume. Balenciaga maybe) suit pants Park Jimin decided to wear that night.

Everything is kind of blurry and you can't even hear anything. You can only watch as Park Jimin turns around, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes find you, the bane of his existance and immediately recognizing the culprit of his now drenched piece of clothing. And you can watch as, once again, his gaze turns almost black and narrow lightly as to reprimend you for what you've caused. But of course he doesn't say a word. He has nothing to say. He doesn't even look surprised. No. Because obviously, Park Jimin knew that if there was somebody in this room willing to ruin his night, it would be you, and only you.

"Shit!" you're the first one to break the strained silence, but that only makes Jimin flinch. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking dumb! J-Jimin, I'm so sorry, let me just go grab a paper tow-"

"Don't." his voice cuts through you. Literally cuts through you. Because it's not often that Park Jimin decides to aim his words at you, but everytime he does it holds the same frigid tone. Like knives trying to painfully stab your being. "Just, don't."

In reality, you don't know a lot of things and you don't know what causes what happens next. You don't know if it's the specific time of the year, you don't know if it's your internal stress, or if it's Park Jimin, his voice, or the fact that he will never like you. But it's instant. They way something compresses your chest, and suddenly your eyes are not glaced by the alcohol but by something wet that threatens to flow. You would never admit to anyone they're tears.

So, shutting your mouth and swallowing the uncomfortable feeling of anguish in your throat, leaving your flute forgotten on the table and grabbing the bottle instead. Without saying a word, your feet start moving up the stairs of the ridiculously enourmous house Taehyung owns towards the first free and empty balcony you can find. Free of people and free of Park Jimin.

Closing the large window behind you, you allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath; the icy temperature outside immediately welcoming you. Although the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you're probably going to catch a cold (because the dress you've chosen for the dinner is not at all appropiate for such winter climate), at least the tension in your body seems to disappear while oxygen keeps that ugly feeling in your heart at bay from continuing to choke you.

With shaky hands, you take a big gulp straight from the champagne bottle. Fuck Park Jimin. No man will ever have the power to make you feel what you're feeling right now. Fuck Park Jimin. And fuck his beautiful face and his ability to make you tremble and fear looking like an idiot. Fuck his fancy clothes and his perfect manicured hands and his marvelous but frigthening presence.

Knock knock.

The sound makes you jump back from the window, hand grasping your chest while you turn around, coming face to face with the man in question. Your first instinct is to ignore him. But that thought is already out of the way when it's him the one who struggles with the window lock before opening and taking a step towards you. You step back as he steps in, raising your head up high and puffing your chest. Because your second instinct is to tell Park Jimin to go fuck himself.

"_____, I would like to-"

"You would like to what?" Jimin looks taken aback at your harshness. Alcohol has always been a weapon of mass destruction in your system, provoking words to flow too easily and without filter out of your mouth, more than they already do when you're sober. Especially when it's mixed with the frustration you've been harboring inside of you for two years. That's why when the words start to come out, they won't stop. "To make me feel like shit one more time? To look at me with that fucking conceited face trying to make me feel like you're better than me? Or would you like to ignore me once again as you always do everytime we're in the same fucking room to make sure I know you hate my mere existance, even if it's just the two of us right now?"

The steam leaving your lips due to the accelerated beat of your heart blurs his face for an instant while he looks at you dumbfounded. The silence and his expression makes you scoff, an acidic smile adorning your face while you take another sip of your drink because even with such a stupid face, he still looks delectable with his white shirt and ruined pants. You turn around, removing a tear that you hadn't even realized had fallen during your speech and that, frankly, you were hoping he hadn't either. You would blame it on the cold, anyway.

This time, a gust of wind running through you from head to toe, making you forget of Park Jimin's presence looming behind you, reminding you it's still December and the fabric of your dress is doing nothing to conceal you from the cold.

But before you can do anything about it and blame yourself for being dumb and not taking your coat with you before deciding to step into balcony, Park Jimin surprises you once again, this time by placing his navy blue blazer over the naked skin of your arms.

Your back straightens when you feel his warm breath caressing the back of your neck, at the same time that a voice you have never heard Park Jimin use with you echoes in your ears.

"I really don't hate you, _____. I..." Jimin wets his lips. His body trembles, but it's not due to lacking his own coat, while his brain hurriedly searches for words eloquent and adequate enough to explain voice his thoughts. "I like you very much, _____."

Scoffing again while you shake your head, you push down with all your inner strenght the incipent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach that Jimin has managed to cause in just a matter of seconds. It's probably the longest sentence you've heard from him in two years, and you don't exactly understand why your body is reacting the way it is. But you're also not willing to give Park Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that. He doesn't deserve it anyway. So with all the courage you can muster, you turn around with your hands clenching.

And even though being at such short distance from Jimin is a bit overwhelming and unexpected for you, the irritation still making your blood bubble is enough to not let a man as handsome as him derail you from your current circumstances.

"Well, fuck you Park Jimin. You certainly have a funny fucking way to sh-" his hands cradling your jaw that pull you closer to him and his lips that silent you roughly, but with surprising care. Only for a moment. A moment in which your body betrays you and make you melt into hir warmth. But his voice, low and sinfully husky, murmurs against your lips.

"God, that mouth of yours..." he goes back to attacking your own lips, this time more firm than before, snatching a sigh from you. The sound has his tongue asking for permission into your mouth, and with your body betraying you once again, you part your lips to allow him in. It's him who whimpers this time, while one of his hand moving until it reaches the bottle in your hand and letting it drop carelessly onto the floor, ignoring the sound of glass shattering and the future scolding you'll get from Taehyung. Instead, he sneaks that same hand on your waist, pulling your body flush against his, fingers digging onto your skin. "It's been driving me crazy for two years. Two years, _____."

He mumbles between kisses and swipes his tongue against yours, while he stars walking the both of you until your back meets the nearest concrete wall.

"Two years of having to hear the incessant filthy words that leave your mouth..." his own stop their movements and you catch yourself before begging him to reattaching his lips to yours, enjoying instead the path of wet kisses and bruises his lips traile from your chin to the pulse of your neck "...and trying my best to hide the painful boners I get whenever you're nearby."

With your eyes shut, your hands are back in motion, ignoring the voice in your head reminding you he's still an asshole and finding their way between Jimin's soft golden strands of hair. He hums in appreciation, sending goosebumps all over your body. "So, s-so why not do anything about it sooner?" you say, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.

You feel Jimin's body tensing before you and he ceases the movement of his lips against your neck. Breaking away, your heart stops, afraid you might have ruined the moment. But Jimin's in search of your eyes, eyebrows very lighlty raised, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You don't know for how long you stare at each other until Jimin comes out of the trance, eyes descending over your flushed cheeks, the very same color as your lips and the soft flesh of your neck until they reach your cleavage, the glimmering fabric encasing your breasts, taunting him the same way they had been doing all night long.

"You scare me so much..." and then, one of his hands repeats the same journey his eyes just did, until he touches your shoulder, right under his own blazer. "Everytime I look at you, all I can think of why the hell a girl as real as you like you would even glance my way." he slides the strap of your dress slowly tentatively, just enough for you to stop his advances if you chose so. You don't. "You're smart in ways I could never compare, so funny it makes me jealous, and so pretty it leaves me speechless. You're...You're everything I'm not."

His voice resonates in the atmosphere, and you would love to blame it on the cold again for how your body has reacted, but your body heat has increased so much since he started kissing you that it would be stupid not to admit that it's just the effect that Park Jimin has on you tonight. You're sure he would've had the same effect if it had happened before.

Your now uncovered breast doesn't even has to suffer the consequences of the icy wind, because one of Jimin's arms quickly comes around you to hold your body against his, lifting you ever so slighty until your erect nipple is at the same level as his mouth and his lips are enveloping it in their warmth. You gasp his name, and that encourages his teeth to tug softly before his tongue stars moving in circes.

"My God, you're so perfect." Your head spins while you hold onto his shoulders as tight as you can, the undeniable heat roaming all over your form, hips involuntarily rutting his incipent erection poking your abdomen. "Been thinking about this since that night we first met." Looking for relief, Jimin mirrors your movements without ceasing the administrations on your chest, as one of his hands lifts one of your thighs to wrap around his waist, closing the short gap remaining between the both of you.

"Ohmygod! F-fuck, Jimin," trying to form coherent phrases is almost impossible, not with Jimin finding a slow and tortuous rythm with his hips, his clothed cock rubbing against your core. Something shifts in the air, because Jimin stops abusing your nipple with a loud pop, and shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours in an urgent, dirty and desperate kiss. You could almost hear him swearing, while his hand keeps your jaw in place.

"S-stop talking like that, ______." his voice, inaudible, and his face now hiding in the crook of your neck, the thrusting of his hips speeding up, more and more frantic this time. The hand not holding your thigh against his hipbone reveals your other breast, hand covering it and giving it a light squeeze before tugging at your unattended nipple between his forefinger and his thumb while his tongue and teeth mark the skin on your neck.

"Hell, I've been dying to stuff your mouth with my cock to prevent you from such foul language," the soft whimpers leacving your mouth coax him into taking the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric until his fingers easily find the place in your body calling to him the most through the lace. It's immediate, how his fingers dampen at the first touch, surprising the both of you, and how your body jolts and an embarrassing sob escapes your throat. "How-how are you this wet? Holy hell, I could just slide right in..."

And as he says that, one of his fingers pull aside the fabric of your underwear and glide into you, so easy. You insides burning while he fingers you, another finger being added with his thumb rubbing circles on your nub. And fuck, you're not sure if you're just too horny and Park Jimin is a magician with his hands, or maybe it's the way he keeps mouthing at your chest and whispering how soaked you are, but you don't think you've ever been so close to cumming in such a short period of time.

"W-whats stopping you?" you manage with a voice that doesn't even resembles yours, but before your hands can even make work of the zipper of his trousers, he pulls his finger out from your center, causing you to whine in protest.

Jimin licks his lips, eyebrows framing the dark expression that his eyes ooze. Although the desire in his eyes is more than evident, it is also evident the faint hesitation in them. Because Park Jimin doesn't do things this way. Park Jimin was raised in a world of correct manners and conservationism. A world that has taught him when and how to act. And as badly as he is dying to fuck you against the wall of Taehyung's ridiculously inmense house, he also wants to do the right thing.

"Let me take you on a date."

Park Jimin has been spoiled his whole life. Being born in a well-off family has always provided him of everything he had ever wanted and more. From the innecessary number of toys Santa Claus left under his Christmas tree every year since he was a baby, to his fisrt extravagant sports car at the age of eighteen. Park Jimin has never been a greedy or needy man. How could he, when he's had everything he's ever wished in the palm of his hands. He has never missed anything in his entire life. Hasn't missed a roof over his head, warm food on his plate or brand new designers clothes each week.

It has taken him two years to control himself. He still remembers that night he first met you, just like he remembers every single time you both had coincided in the same place at the same time. He remembered your scent, had memorized your figure over your pieces of clothing and had tried as best as he could to keep a distance from you because he knew you would never give him the time of day. How could you? You probably despised everything he was because he was definitely nothing like you, and that thought intimidated the fuck out of him. He was a mess everytime you wear nearby. Never relied on his voice because he knew he would stutter if you ever spoke to him, could never trust his eyes because if he ever looked at you he was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away.

And everytime you spoke, shit, that voice of yours always cursing here and there left him wondering how would you sound in a different setting and if you would still be that badmouthed. More specifically, between his sheets. So he did everything he could to minimize your interactions as much as possible. He just never thought he would come across as such a jerk. It was never his intention to hurt you, and seeing you cry that night (although you denied you did, over and over again) seriously made him realize he wanted to make things right.

He was trying really, really hard to keep it in his pants, to be the same well composed and controled Park Jimin he had mastered himself to be.

But that damn dress.

After seeing that little black dress hugging your figure when you started taking off your coat at the restaurant, the brief flash of thigh tights that you accidentaly (or not so accidentally) had blessed him with by crossing a leg over the other, that exposed collarbone calling his name and those heeled sandals with straps wrapping around your ankles, reminding him of the snake tempting Eve, Park Jimin was sure he needed to dig into that apple more than anything he has ever needed before.

That's why he surprises you right after you both finish the second course meal by telling the waitress you won't be having desert, at which you look at him somewhat indignant. But the look he shoots you is enough to make you understand if somebody was going to have desert tonight, it would be him. In his Mercedes.

"I'm gonna-" you gasp, fingers tugging at the soft strands of his now ruined blond hair, his head between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands have a grip of the meaty flesh of your ass, holding you firmly againt his mouth as it works wonders on your clit. You're sure it hasn't even been ten minutes since Jimin had opened your legs in the backseat of his car, not even bothering to take your underwear off, simply moving the fabric aside before diving in, and you already feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm.

"I know." voice vibrating right into your core, he slows down his administrations, tongue carefully and delicately lapping at your folds while he enjoys the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip and fondly brushing his hair back. You meet his eyes as he pushes a finger inside your core and your whole body twists in agony.

"N-no!"

Jimin stops immediately, lifting his head and focusing his concerned eyes on you. He's about to ask you if he's done anything wrong, but you're fast to roughly pull him up by his hair until his face is leveled with yours. You answer him by kissing him and he returns the kiss with the same eagerness, and now it's your hands that are looking for his cock, palming him through his pants.

"Your dick. Inside. Right Now." you punctuate each phrase with a kiss and he only stops kissing you to pout.

"But I wanted you to cum on my tongue." but still, he's putty in your hands when you undo the botton and the zipper. "Wouldn't you rather me fucking you in my bed, where we're more comfortable?" you notice the slight quivering of his voice when you slide his trousers and boxers down, just enough to pull him out.

"You can eat me and fuck me as many times as you want tonight, tomorrow and whenever you'd like, but right now..." none of you contain the moan in unision that leaves each of your mouths when just the head of his lenght comes in contact with your entrance. "I really can't wait anymore." brushing your lips over his, you lower your voice. "Wanna get on my hands and knees for you."

Park Jimin has tried to do things the right and appropiate way throughout all his life. He's been a professional from a very young age on how to be in charge of his emotions, his desires and his impulses. Always well mannered and well composed.

But it's in this moment that Jimin comes to the realization that the only thing that has ever made him lose his mind and self control, is you. Seeing you like this, ass up, grinding your drenched and still thong clad cunt all over his precum dripping lenght, he can't control the way his hand bunches the fabrick of that damn dress over your waist, then flies to your right cheek, a sharp sound of skin filling the air, tearing a gasp from your throat.

"God, I'm-I'm sorry. Couldn't help mys-"

"Do it again."

And he does, the palm of his hand now leaving a reddenning print on your flesh, making you jolt back involuntarily, aligning yourself to the head of his cock and like he had hoped, he slides right in. Not all the way, because Jimin is sure he would cream inside you too soon and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. He wets his lips, clenching his jaw and dropping his palm one more time, hand more steady and purposeful.

"You like it rough?" voice hoarse and a hand beside your head holding himself, your back to his chest, twitching beneath him as he soothes the sting with his free one.

"I like you rough." turning your head slowly to peer at him from the corner of your eye, your hips moving on their own accord trying to take him deeper. Your head is suddenly pulled back harshly, Jimin's fingers tangling in your hair as his own hips close the remaining gap between your bodys in an abrupt thurst. You squeal, Jimin's cock finally filling you up to the hilt just like you wanted him to be, the pleasure making your arms wobble and finding it harder to mantain your balance.

Jimin's breath fawns over your ear, his tongue darting out to suck on your skin sending chills down your spine. "You're such a dream." he groans, torturously sliding out of your core that's gripping around his shaft for dear life. A whine of protest escapes your lips and he tightens the hold on your hair in response, diving right back in. You fall forward, your arms' strenght betraying you as his thrusts find a new rhythm. With your eyes closed shut, you try to muffle the sound of your voice with the back of your hand as Jimin's lips place soft kisses to your exposed shoulder.

"Don't be quiet." he stands straight, the pull on your hair arching your back in such a enticing way it was Jimin look away for a second, cock buried inside of you and his hips faltering. "Been dying to have you like this for so long."

Another clap of his hand against your right cheek, and a particular stroke of his dick that has you mewling as your climax approached again. "S-so good, Jimin. Oh my god."

"You're gonna cum for me?" his fingertips leave bruises on your skin and the windows of his Mercedes are foggy, just like your mind. You can't concentrate on anything that's not Jimin's cock sliding in and out and how much you wished this had happened way sooner. "Gonna cum for me like a good slut?"

Park Jimin always takes his time. Always does things nice and slow to assure the best outcome possible.

But he can't contain the acceleration of his hips against yours as your walls clench impossibly tight around his cock, your orgasm finally taking over . Can't contain himself from falling forward again, hand twisting your head in his direction and his mouth searching for yours in a fiery and messy kiss. And he most definitely can't barely contain himself from cumming when your you ask him to spit in your mouth.

"You're gonna kill me." he breathes, removing himself off you and quickly maneuvering you on your back, his dick finding its way back inside you. Picking up right where he left off, skin slapping against skin in an obscene melody, he collects a considerate amount of saliva in his mouth before dropping it into your welcoming tongue, watching you swallow with a smile he hopes he'll be the only one to see in the future.

And that's what has the last bit of his self restraint slipping from his fingers. He somehow manages to rip the top of your dress down, fabric tearing until your tits are free and his mouth is attacking your nipples, white strings of his release panting your walls, some of it them oozing out that he fucks back right into you.

It's between ragged breaths, kisses and tender carresses that Jimin promises you more dates in the future and new dresses that he can't promise not to savage apart again.

#jimin #park jimin #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts smut #bts #pjm #pjm smut #bad bunny is retiring like who the fuck does he think he is to decide when he gets to retire???#nah bb WE decide when you retire

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 4 years ago

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New York High Rise {1}

Chapter summary; During all your years as the most successful mob boss of New York, no-one have ever dared to seriously battle for the crown with you. Up until now. Steven Grant Rogers, son of the infamous mob boss Joseph Rogers, has suddenly chosen you as his rival. Who will be winning in the end?

Pairing: Steve x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 1/5

Word; 5.9k

Warnings; swearing is standard in my works, mentions of canon-type violence

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: I actually started this series on a whim and all of a sudden ended up having four chapters. I really love it for some reason, maybe because it such a powerplay and I’m a hoe for that trope, especially when it’s a enemies to lovers story. Anyhow, enough of my rambling, I hope you guys enjoy this little mid week update! PSA: If you want to be tagged in the series, jus send me an ask!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Golden chains and champagne. Fancy watches and whiskey on the rocks. Whatever related to the word expensive you were associated with. Although, unlike many others in your business, you hadn't grown up in this world of luxury, nor had you inherited the empire you now were the boss of, enabling you to live the extravagance life you did. No, you were one of the few who'd worked their ass off to earn every last thing you owned.

By most, your efforts looked like a great business mind and some luck. How else could you've become a multi-millionaire on investing in stocks? But to others, those knowing the flipside of the coin, they knew your success in capitals was nothing but a cover for your stealthy work in the shadows. It was a dance, one with feline grace, that you'd performed to reach your position. A status meaning you were one of the most famous mob bosses in New York City.

When hearing mafia, most would think of the old Italian image of people smoking cigars in fedoras, with some moustache that looked similar to pencil lines on their upper lip. Those who owned cities and the whole country knew of it but could do nothing about it.

Perhaps some of these stereotypes suited the older godfathers of New York, who sat proudly on their pedestals and watched the world pass by. But you were different from them. You didn't just watch the world continue and progress by itself. You moved along with it.

You were the new generation.

Compared to the godfathers, who every last person in New York and the bordering states knew off, you had two faces. One you showed the public and one you ruled the underworld with. To society, you were spotless, a name associated with nothing but a sharp mind and benevolence to the public. But you were at the top in the underworld syndicate, the biggest of the biggest. Yet, you didn't rule with fear, simply that of uttermost respect and earned trust. In other words, your reputation or connections weren't bought. They were deserved.

Thus, compared to the older generations, your face could be recognised by a civilian or someone from the underworld, none thinking about calling the police or betraying your trust. You owned the city without it even knowing it.

It was from the way you'd reached this top in stunning silence, together with the grace you played everyone with, that you and your empire earned the alias felines. Like a tiger cub who grew into an adult, your empire was once the smallest but now the biggest. Like a lion, you evoke respect and awe no matter where you went. Like a cat no one cared about, you could cross the streets without an issue in public.

Some of the elders, at least those who were your allies, had expressed their concern of your brassiness. 'Why play cat and mouse with fate?' they often said. But you always answered the same 'I am the cat'. And it was true. Despite some of those opposed to your methods, or just you in general, took the chances they could at picking you off the map. No one ever succeeded. Solely for one reason.

Now, you deemed agreeing to one of your first ever business deals the best choice you ever made. Although it meant you financed some of the worlds leading underground tech corporation with quite some substantial coin, the panthers were nowadays always watching over you. They lingered in the shadows, disarming every try at putting a bullet through your skull.

Albeit not as famous as yourself or the organisation you ran, the Black Panther Operation the sibling pair T'Challa and Shuri operated was, in no shape or form, not impressive. They'd established themselves as the leading organisation, even if not known by half of the people in New York, in the tech area. Not only were they invaluable to the numerous politicians wanting them to work under the radar to get the upper hand on sovereign states, but they also were to you.

They hadn't only supplied you with their physical protection of their elite bodyguards, the Dora Milaje or in common-tongue known as the shadow panthers, but their tech as well. Although, compared to anyone who would've been in your position and chosen the weapons or impenetrable bodysuit that Shuri, ever the genius she was, had invented, you'd chosen one of the other assets. The cloud, the internet.

Hackers were the way forwards compared to warriors. They were the weapon of keeping you one step ahead of anyone by supplying you with the information needed to be able to hold someone's life in your hands.

It was only to look back at the countless occasions anyone tried to persuade you into a business deal you would do nothing but lose at. Thanks to Shuri having dug out the facts that could bring any of your rivals down in the dumps, you'd walked victorious away anyways.

You were certain any of the other godfathers would've killed someone for even thinking, no less trying, to propose a disreputable arrangement with them in the first place. Yet, you knew how much one ever could make a death look like a self-caused accident, that in the end, people would start to wonder why it happened to people of the same background, connected to one and the same empire. However, the former generations didn't really care about bad publicity anyway, so why would they care about lining the street with dead bodies? But the difference was you weren't them.

By all means, some would say your ways was far more torturous than a bullet between the eyes. You wouldn't agree or disagree, only say it was just. Involving a legal and judicial battle was the new way of handling conflicts, after all. It was more efficient than having to wash the blood of your name all the time, according to you. Not only that, you gained a lot more than just a dead body.

You were in somewhat of partnership with most bosses around the city. Those you weren't, rather those you'd only settled a deal with that said "as long as you kept to each of your own territory nothing would happen", did try to bend the rules and use the terror tacit. Either they targeted you personally or something equally as important in your part of the city. It could be anything that would get to you, really. But, no matter what they did, they tried to not do it themselves. Instead, hire a hitman or someone equally as bad. The problem with this was that these people's records were far from innocent, something you used to your advantage.

If you tasked Shuri to find anything and everything these people had done, it was easy to find a person they'd wronged and who sought revenge or justification. The only thing you did was play your hand well, usually meaning you pulled some strings and supply the money. While T'Challa, as the expert he was on it, handed out the information his sister had gathered to reliable sources. Your collaboration made the person you hunted sit opposite someone from their past in a courtroom. Most of the times, they also lost the case.

Choosing to do this rather than go rampage and fire your gun aimlessly meant you settled as a second, or sometimes even third or four-hand source to what went down. So not only did your name remain clear despite answering a rivals offence, your involvement was nearly impossible to track as well. Thus, you could take down five of a rivals' men while they only took one of yours.

Despite one could call you out on hypocrisy, saying that the shadow panthers protecting you didn't own the same benevolence and were quick and silent in their killing, there was one reason you didn't care about the fact. Currently, they may be under a shared command, but their never-ending allegiance was always towards the founders of the Black Panther Operation. If either Shuri or T'Challa said stand back or decided to cut their deal with you, the shadow panther's protection would disappear. The same went if you chose to rip the contract.

However, it was a slim chance that either of the siblings or you would terminate your arrangement. Seeing how now, years later, you still were the sole person working a continuous agreement with them. That was why nowadays, your and theirs organisations were nearly associated as the same by most in the underworld.

Your style of ruling New York and living such different lives in the light and dark made others in your profession joke you were the sole one with an ordinary life. That you were no traditional mafia, simply a highly functioning business-orientated company that invested in stocks. However, both you and everyone around you knew that wasn't true. The reason? You weren't afraid to use every last of your assets to remain in control of your empire. Whatever it took.

And that was a promise someone the last months had put up to the test.

You don't know what set it off, perhaps the old saying of cats and dogs never working well together. Or that because you were at the top drew enough confidence out of someone to try and knock you down. For whatever reason, someone decided to start a ruckus with you.

It had begun small enough you had no idea that someone was behind it. Connections or deals with companies connected to your empire backing out of contracts in the last seconds, saying they got a better offer. The word secrecy, frequently used for ones own safety in the world you lived in, was a term you'd heard enough times by now to grow tired of. It was no significant agreements, seeing how you were well enough to not care about money, but it was plenty bothersome for your pride.

The next step in the escalation had been dealings slightly more important than a question of money, which was your territory and thereby also safety. You still had some meetings with a few godfathers, had fore some time actually. It was mostly those who once had opposed you in the days you weren't a threat or those who just tried to live secludedly enough that they died by natural causes rather than in a cell or from rivalry.

Each of those conferences had been about securing your grip on Manhattan. Primarily to obtain some neighbourhoods closest to Harlem Park and the northern part of the Inwood neighbourhood. Both of which currently was in some sort of grey zone. Meaning neither owned by them nor you. Although those areas were still not written as yours, concerning how those old bosses abruptly didn't seem to want to seal any deals that they weeks ago had agreed on.

Then you'd entered the third stage. The one that made you understand all these cancellations wasn't merely coincidence, but somebody working against you. People from both your closest crew and the Black Panther section had been disappearing. It wasn't uncommon. Your business was nothing but personal feelings and wants most of the times. However, concerning how few men and women you'd lost under your watch, this sudden increase was off-putting.

Closer to the truth was something like this had never happened to this extent before. You hadn't had people close to you or anyone associated with you abducted. However, the worst thing was that the bodies of those disappearing were never not found bloody or in a morgue.

Money or failing to persuade old godfathers wasn't something you took personal, but when people started dropping like flies around you, that you took personally. Hence, you, Shuri and T'Challa worked endlessly on finding who was behind it.

Almost every time, you found the culprit of the act, but not the big boss behind it all. Disabling you from taking more than one person out of play. That your jaw hadn't broken for how much you'd clenched it in frustration, or your teeth shattered from the amount you gritted them was a mystery. You hunted the person ordering these things, yet with no success.

Although one day, when one of the subordinates in your very own team had been missing for a week returned, barely clinging to their consciousness, you'd gotten to know who this new rival of yours was.

Steven Grant Rogers.

The canines, an alias for the Rogers family, were equally known as any of the old US President in the underworld in New York. If one hadn't heard of them in your profession, it was more likely that you already were dead or not in it all because they were notorious.

They'd ruled Brooklyn with an iron fist and was probably the crown specimen of the reputation that accompanied the word mafia. There was a grace in their affairs and killing. But compared to your work, which was performed in shadows and silence, they flaunted it, not scared of running from the police because they already knew they never would be caught.

From what you knew, they'd fallen off somewhat after Joseph Rogers, the head of the Canine Empire, died in one of the rivalries between mobs. His death had been years before you were even born, close to an age it was as high of a chance he could've passed from natural causes. Still, the commotion and continuous dispute following his disappearance and the unclear leadership had served as a fall for the Canine Empire. There was no doubt your rise to the same amount of power as the former union possessed would've been as easy if you'd had them as your opponents.

However, now, it seemed like the past would haunt you down in the form of Joseph Rogers son.

Albeit you never met the new boss of the Canines, there was no doubt you considered, for the first time, to personally put a bullet through someone's head. Steven Grant Rogers was as ruthless as stories told his father had been. He'd even been labelled the golden boy of Brooklyn, rumoured to restore the brutal power of the Canine Empire. Yet, the spot he was reaching for with old alliances regrouping to boost him to the top was a position you currently occupied.

This is where the difference between if you'd had a regular business organisation and the domain you now did, settled in. You went on total offense.

You contacted T'Challa and Shuri, calling them in for a meeting. Even though the pair knew of what had happened so far, they were your partners and thus, you would discuss the actions you would take with them, even if your deal said nothing of that sort. But you knew, compared to your rival, it seemed, how important it was to hold onto your closest allies with other methods than fear and the threat of death. And thus, you also received the help of a friend rather than a business partner.

It must've been the bloodiest month in the last decade from the rivalry that blossomed up between the Felines and Canines the second you started to answer the new top dog's advances. You got reports that the shadow panthers watching your back had cleared more people putting you up as a target than in a long time. As well, did more of the people under your name end up red in back allies.

Then it shifted. As soon as you started getting trails of more people than just the executioners, you were suddenly able to take out divisions of his minions. And while the killing went on, you started winning the big battles. In other words, while Steven continued to play it hard, you started to play smart.

You cut off deals he could do in Brooklyn, much harsher and unforgiving than his initials ones on your side of the East River. It was everything from supplies, to money, to the extra set of eyes. Everything to limit him to sources you knew he wouldn't be happy with having to resort to. While handling this, with the help from Shuri, you also broadened your search to find every little dirty-worker under the mob boss's command. Thanks to those now operating for you on the Brooklyn side, you helped people who'd had a past with Steven's men tip police of and capture them.

Pawn by pawn, you lessened the number of ways the Canine boss could run in taking down your empire. You had him cornered, already several moves ahead of him whatever he chose to do. Only, it was one step you thought he never would do that, in the end, made everything come to a skidding halt.

He'd requested a parley.

"Y'know I don't really like the idea of you meeting him", you didn't look up from the papers you currently were reading to look at Shuri where she lounged on your office's couch.

Though it felt like you should examine the folder that rested in your handbag -the one containing the event plans for the charity event you would host for the many high society individuals and governors, or anyone with money really, in two weeks- those documents weren't the ones you were looking through now.

It was five days ago since Steven had asked for the parlay. Ever since then, you'd worked on the deal you would offer him. You had no desire to sign whatever he would hand to you. And you knew he would propose something. The Canine boss was the challenger, after all. Even more so, the one requesting a meeting from the start. Thus, he, for one, would offer something to cease your continuous confrontations and two, he would try to drag you down while elevating himself. That you couldn't have.

"I know", you finally responded when having read the side you were on in the contract you had put together for your rival. "Still, I want to hear what the man has to say so I can stop losing resources, time and people", you turned to the next page as you said this.

There came no response immediately despite that you felt Shuri was looking at you. You'd gotten good at noticing this, someone observing you. Hence, even though the best of the panthers always were safeguarding you somewhere in the crowds, it never hurt to not solely depend on others for your own safety. Because that was what your constantly high attentiveness was for anyways. To always be keen on your surroundings and try to detect someone's move before they did it.

"It's almost interesting to see someone challenge you for the position of being the big boss, Lekati", it wasn't only at the reserved nickname Shuri used that caught your attention. The rest of what she'd said also made you pause mid-turn of the last page, eyes automatically shifting to her.

Now, instead of sprawling across the piece of furniture the women occupied, she sat upright with a smile ghosting her lips. Your eyes narrowed as you noted this.

"Oh, stop imagining using your sharp claws on me".

"I wasn't".

"You're a bad liar when you want to be", the tech mogul pointed out with a finger directed towards you. Your features stayed indifferent despite the fact that her remark had been correct.

"When will your brother be back?" The dark-haired women cocked a brow at your sudden change of topic.

"Any minute, I suppose, why?"

"He's more pleasant to have around while I try to work, less chatty", an incredulous snort left Shuri as she crossed her arms, leaning back against the couch's backside. Her reaction made your stoic facade drop somewhat, causing the side of your mouth to tug upwards. It was an act she caught and couldn't help but shake her head at.

"I never get tired of not knowing whether you're about to send half of the city after me or simply are in a playing mood", your repressed smile bloomed into a fully-fledged one, amused by Shuri's comment.

"Opt for the latter for as long as those couple of hundred thousand dollars are rolling into your account". Averting your eyes from the women you were speaking to, you once again inspected the bunch of papers before you.

Having worked on them for days and ever since this morning re-reading the contract, you knew it was worded to perfection. There were no loopholes nor any unnecessary losses for either part. So, for as long as Steven didn't belong to the old saying of 'it’s hard to learn an old dog to sit', you knew his signature would decorate the last page.

"However, you should worry about the day when the money is missing", you hummed while stacking the papers orderly, putting them back into the same folder they'd been stored since you'd gotten the paper copies of the transcript.

"Would that be my sign to start running?" You looked up again, instantly meeting Shuri's humoured look.

"It would probably be too late", you shrugged nonchalantly, placing the folder you would have to the meeting in your handbag in a swift motion while swivelling your chair to face her, rather than your desk as you'd done previously. As a chuckle was heard from the dark-haired woman, you crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in your seat.

"It's good that I'm your ally and not your foe".

"Good to hear you view yourself as a friend. Was fearing you would switch sides to my challenger's", you mused, arms coming to prop up against your armrest to support your head when you tilted it.

"I never would, even if I knew he had a chance to win", even though feeling somewhat relieved - because this world and one's alliances could change fast, no matter current contracts or friendships- when Shuri said this, you wouldn't show it. Therefore, instead of smiling at her belief that Steven had no chance of beating you at a game you had been the best player at for years, you simply kept observing the woman as she stood from the couch.

The young tech mogul started to make her way closer to you, a slight sheerness in her step that impersonated the glint in her eye. And you understood why for when she opened her mouth to speak.

"But you can't deny it's interesting someone is seriously trying to take you down", you rolled your eyes while you let your hand fall to tap against your thigh.

"Seems like you're more excited about it than me", you started, spinning your chair slowly to follow Shuri as she settled partly on the empty edge of your desk. She looked expectantly at you, waiting for an answer despite your deflection of it initially. For once, purely because of the topic, you complied. "But no, I definitely do not find it interesting", you sighed out.

"Oh, come on, Lekati...".

"Stop with the nickname", you cut her off with a roll of your eyes. However, instead of earning the quick nod of confirmation to follow your exasperated order, the dark-haired women grinned. Perhaps if it was anyone else than Shuri, you would've been irritated and sent them out of your office, but concerning you viewed her more as a friend than a simple job partner, you did neither when her teasing continued.

"Has the dog really gotten that much under your skin?" She chuckled. "Must be the first one... ever. Or correct me if I'm wrong?" You simply dropped your head and shook it. The young women were right and she knew she was. Steven was the sole one able to make you nearly lose your footing ever since claiming the crown of the underworld.

"Why couldn't he just stay put?" You mumbled under your breath, thumb smoothing out the wrinkles having settled between your brows. "We'd never heard of him before. Why decide to make himself known now all of a sudden? After years of silence?"

"Some men seek the satisfaction of bringing entities down, especially if they ruled it before and now it's overtaken by a woman", you looked up at Shuri. But instead of meeting her gaze, your eyes fell to the piece of paper she held up. Evidently, she'd plucked your Cartier pen and a sticky note from the stack always resting on your desk and written three letters on the piece of paper while you spoke. You, it stood on it.

"Thank you for the flattery", you replied, reaching forward to snatch the note from her. "But I would've prefered if Rogers hadn't, would spare me the task of crushing his ego", the brown-eyed women chuckled at that.

"Maybe he needs to take yours down a step or two too", you stood from your chair as she said this, dropping the slightly crumpled note you'd taken from her into the bin under your desk, then starting to head towards the mirror you had in your office.

"I don't have an ego. I simply know my self-worth".

"Sounds a lot like you're bordering on narcissism", she said in a sing-song voice. "Maybe you and his pride can go on a date. I bet they would rule New York happily ever after", you couldn't suppress a chuckle at Shuri's words, whether you wanted to show how absolutely hilariously unbelievable it was or not.

"Can't your brother come and save me from your antics?" You muttered, spotting the smile the genius behind you sported in the mirror. It was meant for her to hear, so you weren't shocked when she responded to the banter.

"I actually prefer his absence. The two of you together nearly drown me in the seriousness", Shuri complained dramatically. You amusedly rolled your eyes before settling to look at your chosen attire.

Compared to how far away you stood from tradition in the godfather's senses, it was one custom you fulfilled like the rest of them. You believed that the clothes made the man. And, for a meeting like the one you soon would go to, you didn't hesitate to strive for that effect.

You knew Steven was old fashioned. Everything he did cried it. So, of course, you would try to throw him off at every point you could. The skirt and dress were switched out for a suit, midnight black. It was a loose fit and probably matched the high-end fashion more than traditional meeting standards, but you didn't genuinely worry. You were here to show you are the new generation and wouldn't budge because you were the sole women in New York running a syndicate. Doing the best job at it as well.

However, if the man you would meet would frown upon women in a suit, the lace bodysuit, black as well, you wore instead of a dress shirt would probably give him a heart attack. It covered enough but were in no way domesticated and left the upper part of your chest bare. It was a great way to show off the two thin chains of gold decorating your neck.

For some reason, your eyes lingered on the golden metal shining from the light trickling into your office. You started to fiddle with the necklace then, concentrating on how they weren't cold but rather heated up from your body temperature.

You became lost in your own world, fingers splaying over the hollow in your throat to absentmindedly play with the chains there while you thought about the meeting that was rapidly coming closer.

The action, together with the far-away look you stared at your movement in the mirror, was something that caught Shuri's attention.

"Relax", instantly your eyes flickered up to watch her in the mirror's reflective surface as if snapped from a daze. She'd shifted, so she now sat on the front of your desk, head turned in your direction. "It'll go good".

"Wasn't it you who said that you didn't want me to meet him in the first place?" You began to challenge her words of reassurance, hand falling from your skin to instead hang by your side. Not until you'd turned and cocked your brow at her did you continue. "That must insinuate you don't think it will go good", she simply shrugged when you said this.

"I did say I don't like his sudden call for a conference and that you accepted it in the first place", she began, crossing her feet at the ankle and looking down at the movement momentarily before her gaze found yours once more. "But that doesn't mean I don't think it will go good. I know it will. You're good at your job", you smiled at that. You already knew that you worked great under pressure, or else you wouldn't be standing on top of the empire you ruled. Although, it was always comforting to hear it from someone else.

Fittingly, in the next second, a knock on your door echoed in the room, effectively putting an end to your previous conversation with the women perched on your desk.

"Enter", you called without hesitating, as soon as both your and Shuri's attention also turned to the entrance. The guard stationed outside of your room didn't need to inform you of who'd wanted to enter. You already knew it was T'Challa. And as the guard opened the heavy door to your office and held it open for whoever had requested it, indeed it was Shuri's brother stepping through the doorway.

You didn't more than slightly tip your head to acknowledge the guard's nod of respect your way before he closed the door. Primarily because you spotted the slate grey folder the older of the children of T'Chaka held. It was the call about the seemingly insignificant object being completed that had interrupted the earlier discussion you, Shuri and T'Challa had. Your assemblage hadn't been much more than some minor last discussions and to wait for the folder the man now walking through the room held. Thus the portfolio contained a report, the ultimate attempt of finding anything that could aid you in the meeting with Steven.

"Anything good?" You skipped the unnecessary greetings as you gestured to the portfolio in T'Challa's hand while walking closer to your desk, which also was where he was heading.

"Look for yourself", when he said this, the brown-eyed mad held out the folder for you to take. You did but didn't open it until you'd rounded the counter and sat down in your chair again.

You didn't know what you'd expected to meet you, but a photo and a single sheet of paper weren't it.

For a moment, you stared at the picture resting on top of the report underneath it. Presumably, it should've been a photo of Steven sitting in some club. Although it was blurry and had no great exposure, which made it impossible to tell much about his appearance. Still, you knew it was him or else the picture wouldn't be here. However, it did nothing to help you paint a picture of the man which name so far seemed to be faceless.

Putting the picture to the side, you quickly started to eye the document. You scanned it, finding it contained random facts citing what properties the Canine boss had invested in, even owned. Apparently, Steven managed several clubs, which would explain why his first suggestion of a meeting place had been just that. Other than that, he owned some other businesses that wasn't much to cheer for. All infected by alcohol and drugs by the looks and names. Classical.

"This all?" You finally questioned after turning the sheet over, finding the backside blank. When glancing up, you saw T'Challa nodding. You clenched your jaw and looked back down at the paper.

Ever since Steven had asked for an official meeting, between your eyes only, as his message had been clear to state, you'd requested for the siblings to find out whatever they could about him. You wanted the advantage you knew he couldn't get over you. Thus, what was publicly known of you wasn't anything to hide. And frankly, he was more than welcome to read the articles that had written things about you. Yet, every secret of yours, or anything you'd deemed unfitting for anyone to know, had been wiped. No one could ever find something about you that you didn't want on the internet. Though, it seemed you weren't the only one sitting on resources like that.

Albeit the "new mob boss" was discussed in several articles, Steven's name had no face in any of them. In general, there was no picture of him or much information to track him down by either. So, despite your best efforts, now it seemed you didn't have much more than your hunch to go on during the meeting.

"I do not think it's wise to meet him", T'Challa said, much like his sister had earlier. With a sigh, you leaned back in your chair, fingers releasing the paper you'd gripped to pinch the bridge of your nose instead.

"Neither of you wants me to meet him, do you?" At first, silence met you, which made you look up the sibling pair. They shared a glance before Shuri turned slightly to look at you and her brother crossed his arms.

"No", they said simultaneously, which made you huff.

"I may like it as little as you two, but it put a temporary pause to the conflict. And if he comes to accept my terms, maybe that will remain".

"And what if he doesn't?" T'Challa inquired, receiving a frown from his sister, while you simply tilted your head down to look at your watch. "What if he refuses to tuck tail?" He continued to push.

"He won't", you stated, rising up from your chair, handbag now in your grip. It was three minutes until your driver would be here, so you needed to start heading down to the spot he would pick you up in. Yet, you were stopped in your tracks by a hand gripping your upper arm lightly.

"But what if?"

"T'Challa!" Shuri hissed at the unrespectful way her brother insisted on having his questions answered. She'd shot up from where she up until now had remained seated but before she could drag the man staring down at you with insistent eyes away, your raised the hand of your free arm. It stopped the younger women's movement, merely making her watch you and T'Challa.

There was a reason the siblings were able to run their tech operation as smoothly as they did. They complemented each other. What one lacked, the other possessed. For example, Shuri may own the belief everything was possible, then naturally, her brother would be more cautious. As in this instance. Hence, you didn't take any great offence to the dark-haired man's action, despite that your aloof tone could imply such a thing.

"What if he doesn't accept my deal after having me listen to whatever godawful settlement he offers me? Then I've kept my promise on meeting him for the parley he requested and one, which in the end, unfortunately, didn't establish an accord. Henceforth, our war will continue", you said, instantly feeling how T'Challa's hand fell from holding you back. Yet, you didn't pursue your track to the pick up you already was late for. Not until you assured him of one last thing.

"Let me remind you that he was the one that asked me for a meeting, not the other way around. He asked me for a temporary truce and a chance to negotiate. In the end, that shows who's the most desperate to settle an agreement, no matter the terms".

Translation:

Lekati = Kitten

65 notes · View notes

itsclydebitches · 3 years ago

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RWBY Roman Holiday: A Review

Hello, everyone, and welcome to my review of RWBY: Roman Holiday by E.C. Myers! Given my tendency to discuss this franchise at great length, I thought I'd start with a tl;dr section for those who might just want my general takeaway, not a deep dive into some of the novel's specific flaws and strengths. So with that in mind...

Did you like the book?

I did! Let me put it like this. I'm incredibly critical of any RWBY material nowadays, I haven't had the energy to read #realbooks for a while, and I still managed to finish this in five days, even while stopping every few pages to take notes. So it was entertaining enough to hold my attention, unlike Before the Dawn. Is it a perfect novel worthy of nothing but endless praise? No and I'll delve into the many problems below. But is it also one of the better RWBY installments I've engaged with lately, including recent Volumes of the webseries? Yeah. If you're still emotionally attached to the show or these characters, I recommend giving it a try for the sake of nostalgia.

But isn't there a bunch of creepy stuff in it? Didn't Myers turn Roman into a pedophile?

No, he didn't. As I suspected, the rumors that we've been hearing lately probably came about from taking certain moments out of context, or by blowing up some pretty minor implications, or by straight up reading interactions between an adult and a minor in very bad faith. Purity culture and a desire to drag RWBY combining to create an argument that, frankly, isn't supported by the text. Are there jokes and interactions that some readers might find uncomfortable? Yes, but it’s no worse than what RWBY has already established as a canonical part of their world and writing style. See: Yang's interactions with Junior in her Yellow Trailer. If you're a fan of Roman and have held off only because you're convinced the novel ruined his character, I personally don't think that's the case. Breathe easy.

I'm still worried about how the novel treats disability though. Specifically Neo's muteness.

I was too, but I'm happy to report it's a pretty tame portrayal. If anything, I have more to say about the intersection between Neo's semblance and her sense of identity. Suffice to say though, Neo never speaks in the novel, there's no ridiculous reason why she can't speak (no reason is given at all, it’s simply a part of her), and only the bad guys pressure her into talking. Meaning, the bad guys from her and Roman’s perspective. Obviously she and Roman are both villains in the RWBY world, but when it comes to respecting each other's needs they're definitely, comparatively better than the rest of the cast.

So there were no problems?

Oh no, there are definitely problems lol. Let's just say they're not offensive enough to bother the average RWBY fan. At least, most of them (probably) aren't. If you're not neck deep in the franchise's struggles and actively thinking about how this novel does (or does not) fit into the larger RWBY-mythos, there's a very good chance you'll like the book, passing over everything I’m about to mention without a backwards glance. Hell, even if you're looking for problems there's a good chance you'll enjoy a lot of other aspects, just like I did. So I recommend taking a chance on the book far more than I recommend steering clear on principal alone.

Okay, with that out of the way it's time to dive into the nitty-gritty!

FYI I'm pulling my quotations from the paperback edition and, as is probably already obvious, this is not a spoiler free review. So tread carefully!

Part One: An Imbalance of Protagonists

Would you like RWBY: Roman Holiday? Well, that might depend largely on which of its main characters you're most interested in. If it's Roman, you may be disappointed, despite the fact that the book is evenly divided between his and Neo's perspectives. This is, fundamentally, a book about Neo. She is the one undergoing all the character development. She is the one who is driving the plot. Roman just sort of exists within a criminal status quo until he bumps into her — almost exactly halfway through the novel's 308 pages — and then becomes caught up in her training, her desire to concoct new schemes, and eventually her family's problems. I don't want to make it sound like Roman is unimportant to the book, he's obviously there and he does things, but we're not given the same level of insight into him like we are Neo. Frankly, I can think of only two significant revelations, both of which we might have easily guessed based on Roman's established characteristics: his mother abandoned him when he was a kid and he once worked for one of the main crime bosses in Mistrial, specifically Lil' Miss Malachite. Otherwise, everything Roman does and experiences is precisely the sort of stuff we saw him do and experience in the webseries. He commits petty crimes, fights people with his cane, and does it all with a dramatic flare which, notably, Myers writes quite well.

This lack of impact on the story seems to stem from two decisions. First, Myers never jumps forward or backwards in time (with the exception of two small scenes that explain how characters got to a point we saw in the last scene/chapter). Though this definitely helps to keep things from getting confusing, it means that we never go farther back than Neo at 8 years of age and we're always looking at what both characters are up to at the same point in time. Given that Roman is a decade older than Neo, this means that, unlike her, we never get peek into his childhood. When she's 8 he's 18, already an adult and committing crimes in Mistral. A lot of Neo's development is inevitable, just by virtue of starting her story so young. She has to mature, develop her semblance, go to school, try various ways of being independent for the first time... Roman gets none of that. He's an adult when we meet him, his character fully formed and, since we already know that character from the webseries, we're given no new insight into him or how he developed that identity, just a reconfirmation that it exists.

More of an issue though is that Roman isn't allowed an arc over the course of the novel. The man we meet on page 9 is precisely the same man we end with on page 308 — with the minor exception that he now has a partner in Neo and that, sadly, is a lesson he learns instantaneously. For the first half of the book, Myers sets up the expectation that learning to trust and, specifically, learning to trust someone like Neo is the great conflict that Roman will have to work though. He's very cynical in his own head, as we might expect: “On the streets, on your own. You only watched out for yourself. Anything else was a weakness. Anyone else was a liability” (14). No sooner is this perspective established than Roman is meeting people who challenge it. While babysitting the Malachite girls, they provide advice on how to improve his chances of pulling off heists:

Melanie and Miltia, simultaneously: “You just need the right partner.”

Roman: “Maybe. I just don’t believe anyone is going to watch out for me as much as I will” (41).

After betraying Lil' Miss and fending off his peer Chameleon, she sadly announces that "you might have gotten what you wanted after all if you hadn’t been in it only for yourself. If you had allowed yourself to trust someone” (87). Myers isn't subtle about the theme here.

Yet when Roman meets Neo, that trust is immediate, despite spending his entire life rejecting the idea of a partner, despite the viewer having just read about numerous other people who Roman spent years fighting beside and still didn't come to trust, Neo forms an instant, powerful connection with him — one that can't be explained by her saving his life when they first meet. Even Roman himself acknowledges that it's just another debt to repay. They simply click, with no explanation as to how that occurred, or even a serious acknowledgement that this is out of character for them both (what with Neo never having had a friend). Neo gives him the name "Neopolitan," knowing it's her true name now and, thus, a more personal offering than her birth name "Trivia." Roman gives her his entire life story during their first meal together. Roman also spends all of his money on Neo's modified parasol and at the novel's end continually offers to sacrifice himself so that Neo can escape. Neo thinks a lot about how Roman is the only one who can understand her through body language alone which, kudos to Myers again, he does describe her movements with enough clarity to sell that understanding (even if Roman does sometimes make leaps in logic that feel a little unlikely). “She really missed Roman. Most of the time she didn’t need to say anything and he knew exactly what she was thinking” (249). It's heartwarming. As someone who enjoyed their relationship in the webseires, this is likewise a joy to read. It's just that it... kinda came out of nowhere.

Far from this just being an issue of Roman trusting when he's never trusted before, Myers sets up a conflict of loyalties in Neo that is then immediately dropped. She finds herself surprised by Lady Beat — the headmistress of the academy Neo attends — unexpectedly liking her insights and, in exchange for privacy and a more in-depth curriculum, agrees to help her capture Roman. Prior to this agreement, Neo considers helping the Malachite twins take Roman out when they corner him because then they might be Neo's friends instead of her bullies. That motivation makes perfect sense to me. Of course Neo would be more interested in assisting the two girls who attend school with her and improving her daily life over helping the random guy on the street, even if Roman's vulnerability (that's what Neo latches onto: a moment where his mask slips and he shows true fear) sways her towards helping him in the end. When she reunites with Roman later, he requests that she help him spy on Lady Beat... and Neo turns him down. So there's a very clear precedent here of Neo being out for herself, looking to improve her relationship with the other high society ladies she's spending most of her time with. The road to favoring Roman over them will be a long one. What will convince Neo to switch sides?

Nothing. Soon after Neo thinks about how she's duping both Lady Beat and Roman (the reasoning there is never really explained) and from then on her focus is entirely on Roman, with likewise no explanation as to why she chose him in the end. “Roman clearly had some trust issues to work out, but Neo was going to prove to him that he could count on her” (219). Why this sudden desire to prove herself to Roman? No idea. The novel skips over the majority of their bonding. Yes, there are a few key scenes — Neo saving him, Roman giving her the parasol, etc. — but a single sentence reveals that Neo has been training with him for months now, bypassing the slow development of trust and Neo's changing thought process about what side she should choose.

Or rather, there are explanations for Neo's decision, but they all occur after Neo has already chosen Roman. There are two major revelations that we're only told about much later in the novel: that Neo is suddenly dissatisfied with her life at school — “Neopolitan was having second thoughts. As much as life at the school had improved, more and more it felt like it wasn’t giving her what she needed” — and that Lady Beat is the head of a major spying conspiracy across all of Remnant (more on that later). Either one of these could have been the catalyst for Neo giving more attention to Roman and, eventually, growing quite close to him. A general dissatisfaction with her life, the revelation that Lady Beat isn't the kind of criminal Neo wants to support...either would work. As it is, her devotion to Roman seems to immerge randomly, fully formed and unshakable, with these ‘I guess the school and Lady Beat weren't that great after all’ justifications tacked on much later and, thus, presented as incidental to Neo's devotion. “[Roman] was basically the only thing that mattered to her in the world right now" is the conclusion Neo comes to without a lot of work put in to explain how he reached that point in her life (248).

And I can see how this happened. We already know that Neo and Roman are a tight-knit duo from the webseries — Neo's love in particular has been emphasized since Volume Six — and so Myers banked on the reader applying that knowledge to the novel. He wrote the story of what Neo and Roman did prior to meeting, he wrote the story of their friendship prior to the webseries... but he didn't really write how that friendship came about. It's treated as a given, despite the huge number of reasons why that friendship should be rocky (or even non-existent) at the start, to say nothing of many fans' interest in getting an answer to the question, "How does an established villain who trusts no one wind up partnering with a girl a decade his junior?" The novel tells us that this unexpected outcome does, in fact, occur, rather than taking us through the journey of how such an outcome is possible. This is by no means a new problem in RWBY and, admittedly, Myers' depiction of the relationship isn't as noticeably a problem as some others in the webseries, simply by virtue of Neo and Roman being the focus of the novel and the reader knowing that they do, in fact, end up as partners. It's a lot easier to buy a shaky journey when you already know the inevitable conclusion, but that doesn't mean we couldn't have done a better job of showing it.

Which, to get back to the original point of this section, means that Roman never has that arc about learning to trust someone. He just does trust, the moment Neo comes on the scene. Personally, I think this rapid-fire growth is particularly egregious given everything else we learn about Neo and Roman’s histories. Meaning, just like Roman's cynicism about trust is introduced early on, so is his hatred for the rich elite. In fact, Roman's poverty and the disdain that has bred are arguably the most prominent aspects that Myers added to his characterization. As seen in the novel's excerpt release, Roman's introduction is robbing a rich man coming out of a club where he shows more interest in humiliating and harming the man than just getting his stuff and running. Which, to be fair, isn't solely due to the man's status as a member of the elite. The novel develops both characters' sadist tendencies — “He’s vicious. He brutally beat a man just for his coat. He was having fun” (21) — but the man’s status isn't a non-factor either. Roman's internal thoughts say a lot about how stupid, rude, gullible, pathetic, and inept he thinks the rich are. At the start he's not just taking the man's coat because he likes it, but because he’ll need it to survive the Mistral winter, what with living in a shelter under a bridge and all. We learn that his obsession with survival is born of poverty — “Ma’am, when you don’t have anything, surviving is more. You’ve gotta start somewhere” (20) — and that Roman will go to any lengths just to meet his basic needs, potentially with a side of some comfort. For example, he knowingly risks his life by pissing off Lil' Miss just to get two days of food, baths, and a bed. As Roman puts it, those two days are worth it, even if it means the rest of his life is potentially forfeit.

So this is a man driven by a desire to live in comfort, manifesting in a hatred of the rich that is so powerful Roman breaks the man's knee just for the hell of it. He's touchy about any comment on his upbringing too: "Roman froze. 'So that’s it. You think you’re better than me. Because you went to school? Learned a trade?'" (80). And, to be clear, this is a hatred of the high society rich. The kind of wealth that's never earned. Roman has a healthy respect for the well-fed crime bosses who have pushed their way to the top, just as he plans to. Not those living cushy lives at the expense of him and others.

And wouldn't you know it, his partner to-be is a pampered little rich girl.

"There's the conflict," I thought. "Roman doesn't just need to learn to trust, he's got to trust someone born into extreme luxury. How is that going to happen?" Well, again, it didn't. Neo and Roman's class difference is ignored for 99% of the novel, with the other 1% used for casual banter between them. It's not that Roman isn't aware of Neo's pedigree, so to speak. He finds her through the uniform she wears, the symbol of an academy that rich girls attend. When they share their first tea together, he notes how daintily she eats the sandwiches, more evidence that Neo has had manners drilled into her at a young age. When he finally gets confirmation that she's not just rich, but really rich — flying to her parents' mansion — Roman is just kinda moderately surprised, throwing in a comment about how someday that money will be hers and isn't that nice. Roman's hatred of the elite disappeared for Neo's sake, just like his trust issues did. There's no working through these differences, just an erasure of them so the novel can jump straight to them being the perfectly in synch duo we know from the webseries.

As a side detail that I think demonstrates this imbalance rather well, hair is used as a marker of identity throughout the novel. Neo moves from being jealous that other girls are allowed to style their hair how they please, to making her hair entirely pink with her semblance, changing that to half brown instead, buying pink dye so she no longer needs to waste energy on something she wants to be permanent, and ending with her getting some white streaks even as she chooses to leave the name Vanille behind. Each change coincides with an aspect of her development and it works quite well. In contrast though, Roman has only setup, no follow through. Unlike the short cut we're used to in the series, Roman starts the novel with a long ponytail that characters frequently comment on. The twins steal his hat and beg to braid his hair when they're bored. Neo seems iffy about the style choice. A couple other side characters make vague references to imply that he should get rid of it — something, something it doesn't actually suit him. So surely we'll see Roman cut his hair sometime before the novel's end, visually representing his growth, just like Neo's changing color has represented hers (ending with a color mix that reflects neapolitan ice cream)? Nope. Not unless I missed it. The foundation for that change is there, but Myers never capitalizes on it, despite obviously knowing what he's doing with Neo.

So if you want more Roman content, the kind of content we saw in the webseries, great. You'll love the novel. If you want to read about Roman undergoing any significant change, including a dive into how he came to trust Neo of all people, large chunks of that story are missing. In true RWBY fashion, there are plenty of details that allow readers to fill in the blanks for themselves, but the canon itself is, sadly, lacking.

Part Two: Neo's Magical Identity

We've established then that Neo gets the lion's share of the development and, frankly, most of it is good. Knowing she's set to become a villain, I loved reading the gradual move from understandably lashing out — Neo throws an umbrella at her father's face when he's being an emotionally abusive dick — to becoming just as stoically cruel as Roman — she launches a woman out of the back of a plane. Did she have a parachute? Who cares. There's a lot here to like about Neo's characterization, with Myers finding a nice balance between keeping her playful and not making her feel like a caricature (helped immensely by spending so much time in Neo's head). However, the one part that arguably fails is the development of Neo's semblance and, consequentially, her identity.

To be clear, I absolutely get what Myers was going for and it's basically what I assumed was going on when I read the excerpt: Trivia (Neo's birth name) has an imaginary friend she calls Neopolitan and, over time, she realizes she is Neopolitan. The imaginary friend is who she wanted to be all along, not just the person she wanted to spend time with. I like it! Who among us hasn't imagined a badass, smooth-talking, beloved version of ourselves that impresses everyone with a Mary Sue-esque ease? (Or, if you haven't, guess I'm outing myself here lol.) It's a pretty relatable idea. Trivia imagines a girl with the power to dress how she wants, style her hair how she wants, with amazing acrobatic skills, a take-no-shit attitude, fun ideas to implement... but she also has Trivia's heterochromia and muteness. It's the perfect combination of Trivia's unique traits and the confidence/freedom she longs to have. Of course when given the chance she grows up to be Neo, even going so far as to take that name. It's what she always wanted.

The only problem here is that in the RWBY world, Neo can't just be an imaginary friend. She's a manifestation of Trivia's semblance. As we learn later, the things Trivia creates are as real as real can be, provided she keeps up their existence. You can touch the wall. You can count the money. You can wear the clothes. They're less illusions than short-term creations — as Team RWBY realizes whenever they wind up attacking a Neo duplicate instead of the "real" thing — and that puts an odd spin on just how imaginary Neopolitan actually is. She's not imaginary at all. She's a real person that exists in the real world, it's just that this existence is temporary and dependent on Trivia's aura.

The novel supports this by constantly writing Neopolitan as a distinct personality from Trivia. Not just the polished version of who she is slowly becoming, but an individual in her own right. Neo makes decisions that are fully her own, contrary to or even entirely unknown to Trivia. To highlight just a few examples:

Trivia is unsure about sneaking out of the house so Neo "shoved her into the hall" (25).

Neo "looked on jealously” as Trivia drinks a milkshake, implying a desire to have one and the knowledge that her current physicality doesn't allow for that. If she is Trivia, shouldn't she likewise be enjoying the shake?

“She shot Neo a questioning look... before she realized what Neo had in mind” (92). Their thoughts are presented as separate and there's no instant mind-reading.

Neo catches Trivia when she leaps out of a window, surprising her with the save. Trivia never planned for Neo to do that, Neo did it entirely on her own.

There are lots of other instances like this, details that establish Neo has a person separate from Trivia (this confusion regarding their names should make that clear enough), no matter the fact that she's made out of aura. I mean, we've got Ozpin existing only as a soul in other's bodies. RWBY isn't exactly in a position to get nit-picky about personhood. More specifically though, Neo is presented as a bad influence on Trivia, an outside force enacting on her in harmful ways. Neo's introduction establishes her as the troublemaker to Trivia's more obedient personality: “But those were her parents’ rules, and Neopolitan never cared about those.... She bounced up and down on the cushions the way she wasn’t supposed to” with a “taunting smile” (2). Her father comments on this multiple times, saying that Trivia can't hide behind an imaginary friend. She's responsible for her decisions. And while yes, that's true, that level of responsibility changes when Trivia summons Neo into the world. During a fight with some other teens, they can suddenly see Neo and Neo, independent of Trivia, punches one in the face, making her nose bleed. That seems like a real person making her own, real decisions to me. So it was never Trivia doing things and then trying to foster responsibility off on an imagined cohort, it's a child bringing another, magically-based person into existence and being influenced by her since before the age of 8 (considering that Trivia and Neo have clearly been playing with each other for a long time when the novel starts). There's even a moment where Trivia seems to realize all this, acknowledging that sneaking out, breaking up her parents' party, causing a scene... all of it was Neo's idea. “That had to be Neo’s influence again. Trivia had to stay in control."

But the idea of control is never actually explored. Despite establishing Neo's individuality and having Trivia comment on her influence, the second half of the novel abandons that for the expected, 'Trivia was Neo all along' reveal. There's a very strange moment where Trivia's mom slaps Neo, causing her to shatter and... that's it. “Neo had been so much more to Trivia. Now she was gone” (98). Neo is, apparently, gone for good, despite the fact that she should return the moment Trivia's aura does. Neo has been with Trivia since she was a small child, nearly her entire life and at least 7 years by this point in the novel, so why did a single slap send her away? That's not explained and, much like the ‘Why has Neo chosen Roman?’ question, the fact that Trivia did try to bring her back several times and failed is mentioned chapters after Neo's absence is presented as an inevitability. The order of events needs some reshuffling.

Despite this confusion regarding why this change happened now, the explanation seems to be that Neo isn't really gone, Trivia has just realized for the first time that she is Neo. No need to summon up a separate person when you are that person and the novel, from then on, is peppered with constant reminders of this.

“Trivia was on the verge of exhaustion, but she kept burning the last of her Aura to hold Neo together. To hold herself together” (96).

Realizing she is Neo: “Trivia smiled. She took in a deep breath. She felt complete for the first time. She felt like herself” (99).

“You must be Trivia,” the tall woman said. If I must, I must, Trivia thought (126).

“She wrinkled her nose. Her name still felt like a coat that didn’t fit right. She would need to tailor that, too” (153).

“Losing her friend was Trivia’s first step towards putting herself back together and embracing her true, best self” (152).

“Wearing this [outfit], she almost, not quite, knew (or remembered?) who she was—not as a student or a daughter, but as Trivia Vanille," except the clothes are “the kind of thing Neopolitan would wear” (152-3).

On not being able to summon Neo anymore: “She had realized that Neo was really just another aspect of herself” (175).

Though there’s also the occasional implication that she's not actually Neo, just someone highly influenced by her: “No, [fully pink hair was] too much of the other girl [Neopolitan]," so she settles on that half pink (Neo), half brown (Trivia) combo (153).

As said at the start, it's a "twist" that works perfectly well... provided you ignore the magical elements and the amount of work done to establish Neopolitan as her own person, not just Trivia in a shiny, future glamour. Far from the empowering victory I expected to feel in watching Neo become who she always wanted to be, I found the whole situation to be somewhat tragic. Magic created a fully realized person who egged Trivia towards bad behavior since she was a young child, until Trivia comes to the decision that she should just embrace their personality 24/7. It felt less like the growth of a character into who they were meant to be and more like a manipulated kid taking the place of the person who used to exist alongside her — the only friend she ever had before Roman. Given that Neo is a villain, that's a pretty interesting idea for how the good girl goes bad... but it doesn't feel like Myers meant it that way. Rather, we're supposed to accept the simplest reading, that Neo was just a projection of Trivia's internal self, never-mind her individuality, her pressuring influence, her existence as something real in the world provided Trivia has aura. It's a much messier depiction of Neo's identity than that ‘She had an imaginary friend who she admired and eventually took her name’ setup. When magic is involved and a character's mind is creating fully realized people to stave off loneliness... that's a whole other kettle of fish. I don't actually want to delve into a psychological reading here — I simply don't have the expertise for that — but suffice to say, Neo's muteness might have been handled well, but there's a lot more to interrogate regarding her mental state and how much leeway we give to, ‘It's a fantasy series, just run with it.’

Part Three: You're Dodging Those Rumors, Clyde

I admittedly am. Let's take a break from deep dives into characterization to instead tackle Roman Holiday's — undeserved — reputation. I get it. At this point the RWBY franchise is, frankly, a poster child for offensive content and workplace problems. In the last two years alone we've dealt with horrific crunch culture, sexual harassment allegations, an arguably glorified assisted suicide, bad comparisons to real life politics and dictatorships, a huge reversal on the show's disability stance, one subreddit banning another over criticism, a collective YouTube response to the fandom's behavior, iffy choices regarding Mother's Day merch, accusations of queerbaiting, a resurgence of using Monty's death to forward or dismiss arguments, continued worry over whether the bees will be made canonical next Volume... and honestly, that's just some of the big ticket subjects. RWBY's story, workplace, and fandom have a lot going on, much of it bad, so it's no surprise to me that people are primed to see the worst at every turn. Why wouldn't we be? At this point it's a pretty justified response.

However, in this case it's unwarranted. Let's tackle Neo and Roman first. Yes, they're a decade apart in age and yes, there are some details that could, potentially, imply romantic interest on both sides. But they really are tiny and the novel confirms nothing. Indeed, the back of the book's summary says, "Just like every story, every friendship has a beginning..." So that's the focus here and all the ambiguous hints, importantly, happen after Neo is confirmed to be 18 years old. Roman takes her to a fancy tea shop only because he owes her. “It certainly wasn’t because he wanted to impress her or anything” (189). Neo blushes when he compliments her semblance. Twice Roman jokes “Don’t worry, it isn’t flowers” when Neo is opening up her parasol present (212). Neo also acknowledges Roman's looks at one point: “With his tousled orange hair, dressed like a street punk, he didn’t look much older than her. In fact, he was kind of cute” (184). The most intimate they get though is at the novel's end: “She leaned over and kissed Roman on the cheek. His face went red," though this is immediately followed by "It was fun to mess with him sometimes” (307). Honestly, the most overt "hint" towards a relationship is probably the title itself, a play on the 1953 romantic comedy Roman Holiday. But upon reading the novel, I think it's clear Myers chose that title only because Roman's name is, you know, Roman and the plot somewhat mirrors the idea of a reporter getting involved with a princess. Only in this case it's a criminal getting involved with a high society girl and "involved" just means a crime spree, not a romance.

So is there something there? Maybe the start of something, if you're willing to read into it, but to me it comes across more like the two of them poking fun at social expectations — he's the guy so he "must" be getting the girl flowers; she's the girl so she "has" to kiss him on the cheek — rather than anything serious. Even if Myers had developed a relationship, Neo is both an adult and at least Ruby's current age, if not a year older, so if some fans want her to start a relationship with the 14-year-old farm boy housing her ancient headmaster, is a ten year age gap really where we're going to draw the line? I know that makes a lot of people uncomfortable — frankly it makes me a bit uncomfortable too, more-so because of the difference in their life experiences (Neo is still a student, Roman a long-established criminal) than the actual gap itself — but we should be wary about when personal squicks turn into unfounded, "This is a sin!" purity culture. And for the purposes of this conversation, the point is that there is no relationship. If anything, Roman is just as aware of Neo's age as the reader is. He initially thinks he's looking at a “little girl” only to quickly realize “She was also older than her diminutive height suggested, maybe about the same age as the Malachite twins” (168). But, as we'll get to in just a sec, Roman very much treats the twins as the kids they are too. Roman even refers to Neo as a "kid" until she makes it known she dislikes it (183-4). He drops the term, but that doesn't mean the mindset disappeared.

As for the twins, they're the only other minors that Roman spends time with. Lil' Miss instructs him to act as their body guard while in hiding, which means he spends over a week living with them. Frankly? I think it's a really wholesome part of the novel — or as wholesome as the villains can ever get. That's when the girls get bored enough to steal Roman's hat, toss it around a bit, and beg to braid his hair. Myers does a good job of balancing Roman's bad boy attitude with a clear indulgence for them. He doesn't actively like the twins (who does Roman like besides Neo?) and ends up orchestrating a ridiculous plot to get out of "babysitting" them (another indication that he's well aware that they're kids), but he doesn't wish them any real harm. He even cares about them in his own twisted, villainous way. We get to see a moment where Roman tries to convince the girls to escape from a grimm, leaving him behind. We might have been able to write that off as Roman just saving his own skin in the long run — Lil' Miss would kill him if any harm comes to her girls — but there's no need to fake comfort: “Roman squeezed Melanie’s hand reassuringly. He needed her and her sister to remain calm” (52). As one of the other goons observes, “You’re bluffing. It’s obvious that you care about [Miltia], which means you’re up to something” (51). Much later, Roman's thoughts confirm this when the girls are older, more powerful, and trying to kill him: “He’d had to endure their dance recitals when they were little. He’d clapped for them at gymnastic competitions. Now they were trying to do a number on him... He didn’t want to hurt the lil' brats, despite everything, but he couldn’t let them take him down” (166-7). Really, I like everything about this. I enjoy how this humanizes and complicates Roman without undermining his status as a villain. I like the loyalty to their mother it shows in the twins that they'd turn on a man who was so involved in their childhoods. It's just fun to read about a badass bad guy trying to manage bored pre-teens with superpowers and a crime boss mom. Their relationship isn't something I expected from the novel, but I'm glad we got it. There's nothing here to imply the twins are uncomfortable with Roman, or that Roman is inappropriate with them. Anyone who balks merely at the idea of a grown man, quote, "babysitting" two young girls is working from bias and bias alone.

There is, however, one inappropriate comment made by a goon and an assumption made by Miltia, both of which Roman refutes. First, the goon asks if Melanie is Torchwick’s “new girlfriend” to which Roman responds, “You know who it is... She’s just a kid, big man” (47-48). Later on, we get

“Cute,” [Roman] said.

“Flattery’s not going to work on me anymore,” Miltia said.

“I was referring to your moves, not you” (158).

Now, we could drag Myers for including such "jokes" and misunderstandings to begin with, but that's why I mentioned the Yellow Trailer at the start of this review. It doesn't feel right to single Myers out for something Rooster Teeth has already embraced, especially when he's the one working to mirror their original product. Yang deliberately toys with Junior and Junior willingly goes in for the kiss. Jaune blushes at older moms eyeing him up at the crosswalk. Nora tells Ren not to look up her skirt in the middle of a deadly fight. Neo and Cinder both go to Atlas in scantily clad outfits because it's more important for the women to look sexy than it is for the show to stay consistent about the dangers of the tundra. Much of RWBY has that frat boy energy about it. I'd be shocked if nothing snuck its way into Myers' work too. But Roman the pedophile who ogles the twins and manipulates a kid Neo? That just doesn't exist.

Part Four: Déjà Vu, Anyone?

I dithered about whether to include this section, simply because I don't want anyone to misunderstand what I'm trying to say... yet at the same time, I'm not entirely sure how to articulate the problem I have here. Or if I'd even consider it a problem at all. In the end, "déjà vu" is the best term I can come up with. I'm not saying that Myers is lazy in regards to plot and choreography. I'm definitely not saying he's plagiarized. What I am saying — the only thing I'm saying — is that there were a lot of times during the novel where I went, "Okay, we've seen this before." Whether or not that's bad I'm... not sure.

Let's start broad. When the excerpt dropped I mentioned that Neo's situation sounded pretty very to Weiss' and I stand by that claim. Actually, having read the novel now, I'd say it's a LOT like Weiss' story. Neo is the daughter of an incredibly wealthy family, suffering from an abusive father, a more loving but absent mother, whose only freedom stems from her semblance and combat abilities. Alright, let's dig deeper. Like Jacques, Jimmy's abuse is on full display for the viewer/reader. I could give you a laundry list of examples, but here are just a few:

Jimmy is frequently described as barely controlling his anger around Neo, “there was rage behind his shadowed eyes,” etc. (4)

There are times when she is "suddenly afraid" of what her Papa will do to her (35).

When Neo is taken home by the cops, they reveal that they didn't even know that Jimmy Vanille had a daughter. That's how sequestered she's been.

He and his wife lock Neo in her room when they go out, which means that when she starts a fire she had no way to escape, no one to open the door for her, no way to call for help (her scroll is engulfed in the flames). Neo ends up chancing a fall from the window.

He comes very near to hitting Neo at one point before backing down.

Later he drugs her and, again, locks her in her room.

As said, I could go on. There are a few inconstancies across the novel that, frankly, I've come to expect of Myers' work and RWBY in general, which I bring up now because it messes with the abuse plotline a bit. There's supposed to be a shocking moment when Jimmy grabs Neo tightly by the arms: "Trivia stepped back, appalled. Papa had yelled at her, punished her, even ignored her over the years, but he had never hurt her before” (97). Except she’s forgetting that, at the very start of the novel, Jimmy grabs her by the ankles, pulls her out from under the couch, and proceeds to shake her upside down while her hand bleeds. I'd say that's a pretty intense, physical interaction, making squeezing Neo's arms fail to have the impact Myers was looking for. Similarly, when Neo finally snaps and throws her parasol at her father's face, it's because “The things she had claimed for herself were just more stuff her parents had paid for," meaning, everything she stole on a shopping spree her father made sure to pay for twice over. It's not the ableism, abuse, isolation, and the like that Neo reacts to, even though she clearly struggles with those throughout the novel as a whole. So there are disconnects at times, but the point is this man is an abusive asshole to his daughter until she learns to literally fight back. Sound familiar?

What particularly struck me was that both men have built their abuse around how the family is perceived. Both are obsessed with their image and how their daughter does or does not serve it. Jacques yelling at Weiss for speaking out about Beacon could be swapped with Jimmy yelling at Neo for not speaking at all. Jacques has maintained his wealth by exploiting the faunus in dust mines and getting in deep with criminals like Watts. Jimmy maintains his wealth by getting involved in illegal dust trades and getting in deep with criminals like the Xiongs. Both try to justify their actions in the name of perpetuating both that image and that wealth: “the things I have to do for that money” (5). Both lock their daughters in their room when they can't control them anymore. Both keep portraits in the hall that “showed her and her parents posing together as if they were a happy family,” a symbol of this familial deception (271).* Both have more compassionate, terrified, but ultimately enabling wives that, the story reveals, have secretly been spying on their husbands this whole time. Just as Willow set up all those cameras and gave the footage to Weiss, Carmel is using the camera in her pin to acquire information on Jimmy, with plans to use it to help Neo. By the time Neo's solution to the "What now?" question was to fly Roman back to her mansion and drink tea for a while Volume 8 style, complete with a Sun-Blake style shock that this is her house — sure you don't mean the tiny one behind it? — I was honestly wondering just how far we were going to stretch these parallels. I don't want to make it sound like these characters are identical (Carmel isn't an alcoholic for one thing)... but they share enough characteristics and distinct details to feel, well, a little weird. It also feeds the fandom's question, "Doesn't RWBY know any villain backstories except abuse?"

*(As a side note, I initially thought the book's cover, showing a young Neo with two brown eyes, was a mistake. Turns out her parents had the painter get rid of her pink eye because they were ashamed of it, so kudos to the cover artist for keeping that consistent!)

The similarities between Neo's backstory and Weiss' are absolutely the most obvious example here, but there were two other, smaller déjà vu moments I wanted to toss out, both involving combat. Myers has, at times, repeated fights almost exactly in order to cover two character's perspectives. I get the need to rehash plot in that manner, but he tends to focus on the exact same details back to back, making for a boring read. That incredibly nit-picky criticism aside, it means that I was already aware of combat moments that I'd seen before, not just in Roman Holiday, but RWBY in general. Does this description sound familiar to anyone?

Neo hopped up lightly onto the broad blade. Rin tried to shake her off. Neo vaulted away just as the Huntress activated the flames, somersaulting over the Huntress. She planned to land behind her and whack her with her sword, but Rin turned and kicked high while Neo was still in the air. The Huntress’s foot connected with Neo’s stomach, knocking the wind out of her and knocking her clear across the room (199).

If it's not familiar don't beat yourself up because it really is a minor similarity (and, in fairness, there's only so many ways you can write combat...). But take away the swords, replace them with a parasol and scythe, and you've basically got Ruby and Neo's interaction in Volume 8. Ruby tries to land a hit on Neo, she turns, kicks high while Ruby is still in the air, and she flies across the platform, knocking the wind out of her. We've also seen the 'Landing on a broadsword to get close to an enemy' bit with Tyrian and Qrow. But again: minor. What's a far less minor repeat of combat techniques is seen between Roman and Chameleon. Basically, Chameleon is Ilia, minus being a faunus and thus framing her abilities as a difference she's shunned for. Her semblance allows her to camouflage at will, giving her a major stealth advantage in a fight. Which means that when she goes after Roman, things get exponentially harder when the lights go out. But then it's better for Roman when a fire starts. He beats Chameleon and she helps him in the end because she's always been in love with him, even though Roman didn't love her back. If you're going, "Hey, that's the basic plot of Blake and Ilia's fight!" then yeah, me too.

It's not the whole novel. I don't want to make it sound like Roman Holiday is just a stitched together version of previous RWBY content because it's absolutely not. At the same time though, there were enough major similarities — and enough smaller ones that started standing out as a result — for me to raise an eyebrow. As said, I'm not entirely sure what to make of this eyebrow raising, or even if I want to label it a criticism at all. You all can decide what you think.

Part Five: Wait, Now There's Not Enough RWBY?

Yes, I contain multitudes and contradictions. As does this book. Even while Roman Holiday repeated some pretty familiar RWBY elements, there were times when the novel didn't feel very RWBY-ish at all. Part of the problem is that it lacks what's arguably the most crucial part of RWBY’s world building: battling grimm. Safe behind the walls of Mistral and Vale, we only see one grimm in the whole story, a captured Capivara that one of the crime lords uses to dispose of people who have displeased him. Roman and the twins barely get more than a few hits in before it escapes upstairs, leaving the kill to happen off screen (and why the grimm ran is another problem entirely. Again: we'll get to that). So although there are plenty of battles between people throughout the story, it doesn't feel quite like RWBY to me without the show's first and most significant antagonist.

More than that though, Myers goes back and forth between emphasizing RWBY's unique, cultural elements and putting them aside entirely. When he's including them, it's great. We learn that there's an old saying “You can’t put the moon back together” which yeah, of course idioms would develop around the shattered moon (151). Honey Wine, a night club singer, paints her face with red dust as a symbol of both wealth and her dare-devil nature — one stray spark and the dust would ignite, blowing her and potentially the club up too. Yeah, of course people would come up with foolish, ridiculous ways to use this resource if they had it. During one of Neo's lessons, a passage for diction practice goes like this:

The gruesome Grimm grew greedy. Get that greedy gruesome Grimm, Gregory. Go, Gregory, go. The greedy gruesome Grimme gorged Gregory. Good-bye, Gregory, Good-bye. The gory, greedy Grimm gave a gruesome grin (175).

Yeah, of course the elite would develop silly lessons using grimm as examples! We've got math problems about Johnny and his dish soap (yes, I'm quoting the Vine), so why wouldn't this world use grimm in the same way? Especially those who are rich and privileged enough to never encounter one.

When it's good, it's good. When it's not... I don't want to take Myers to task for this because, in his defense, much of what makes the book feel generically modern has been seen in the show. Like computers. Or video games. Still, when these things are mentioned frequently it undermines the fantasy/sci-fi core, especially when Myers keeps the standard terminology. Why is a phone called a scroll, but a TV is still called a TV? Why are cops patrolling normal sounding malls with normal sounding guns? Neo sneaks out at one point and it struck me that, up until she uses her semblance against a bunch of bullies, there's nothing to distinguish this outing from a realistic portrayal of an average girl getting a milkshake. None of this is helped by the times when Myers slips on the terminology that is unique. Roman describes what he steals as "cash" rather than "lien" (105). One moment we're getting phrases like “She wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box," the next it's "or rob a convenience store for a six-pack of Dr. Piper” (44, 239). So is RWBY a world that has all the same products we do — crayons and TVs — a world that's different, but only because the author is making it different in a humorous way — Dr. Piper — or a place with a unique culture and history — scrolls, lien, shattered moon idioms? It's a challenge every fantasy writer has to face. Can you have a French braid in a world without France? Some will say no, others will bank on the reader's understanding that you can't change up every aspect of our language. You'll drive yourself nuts if you try. So I'm sympathetic, but it's nevertheless noticeable when Myers seems to remember that he's writing a fantasy world, tossing in "bullhead," "oh my Gods," and "thank the brothers" in a single scene, as if he’s making up for the whole chapters where that work is missing. Take out the grimm, take out semblances for a good chunk of the plot (since Roman doesn't have one), get iffy about the details... and you're left with a story that sometimes feels more generic Young Adult than it does RWBY. Enjoyable Young Adult, but a little lackluster in the world building all the same. This isn't a book where girls turn into rose pedals, lamps grant wishes, and teenagers fight giant mechs. This is a story where a guy uses a cane to beat people up, a girl uses illusions to shoplift, and the final confrontation is basically a shoot-out. Not bad by any means, just not the level of insane "The gun is also a gun!" nonsense that has become RWBY's brand.

Part Six: Stupid Plots (and Strange Details)

If Roman Holiday lacks a lot of that RWBY insanity, then that means nothing stupid and ridiculous happened, right? Lol of course not. The novel suffers from what I think of as the, "Well that's convenient" problem. In its immense defense though, it's nowhere near the level of, say, Amity suddenly being ready to go. The world's rules do not bend for Neo and Roman... they just wind up experiencing things that can test the reader's sense of disbelief at times. For example, how likely is it that two huntsmen will waltz into a bank in the middle of Roman robbing it? Very likely, apparently. Why not just have them respond to a silent alarm? Well, because of reasons we'll tackle in Part Seven, so we're left with the iffy coincidence of two trained professionals being at the right place at the right time to show the reader a fight. It's a fun fight though — love the use of dust in it — so we'll let that pass. After all, if coincidence serves the reader's entertainment, aren't they ultimately a good thing?

Far more frustrating in my opinion is when disaster is illogically postponed and characters are written as incredibly stupid in order for a protagonist to get by. In this case, Neo. One of the major reveals of the novel is that her father has been stealing dust from the Xiongs and hiding it beneath Neo's bed. We're supposed to believe that a moment of Lil' Miss shooting into her room sets this volatile dust off, resulting in an explosion that kills both of Neo's parents (side note: she intended this), but the dust didn't blow up when Neo started a fire in said bedroom, a fire that then proceeded to consume the entire top floor? ...right.

When Neo isn't conveniently surviving non-explosions, she's duping people left and right with her semblance, despite the fact that she, of course, can't speak. This trick becomes less and less convincing as the novel goes on. First, Neo drugs her tutor (that poor woman) and pretends to be her to escape the house, holding a one-sided conversation with her father as he walks her to the door. He finds nothing strange in this. Later, Neo sneaks back in by pretending to be her mother and though this time her father catches her, it's because “If you want to know whether someone is lying to you, it’s all in their eyes” (70). Not because, you know, his "wife" inexplicably won't respond to him verbally. Finally, Neo takes the place of Xiong, traveling with his assistant for over thirty minutes, and never once do any of the goons question what's going on with their suddenly mute boss. This includes interactions like Neo holding out her scroll and just staring until the assistant gets that she should follow the GPS, and the need to ignore the fact that Xiong, characterized as quite talkative throughout the novel, is suddenly quiet as a mouse. Neo's muteness should have been a severe limitation on her ability to masquerade as others, not something the story outright ignores in an effort to move the plot along.

The novel is peppered with such coincidences, small inconsistencies, and just downright strange details. Roman notes that the police haven't arrived to his robbery yet, only for the next sentence to say they were swarming in. Later he "pulled on his bonds, testing whether he could slide one of his hands free, but he’d been tied up real good” but then again, a few sentences later, “He craned his neck to try to look out the front window. He managed to unbuckle his seat and hop to the front” (259). Like forgetting how rough her father has been in the past, Trivia bemoans the fact that she can't wear anything that Neo would, something in pink and white, for example, forgetting that her former "adventuring outfit" consisted of a white tank-top and white sneakers with pink hearts (26).* She also claims that the Roman illusion she sends running from the twins is her first long-distance use of her semblance, even though she just got done recalling the time she created a butterfly and watched it fly until it was "out of sight" (170). The novel writes out Neo's texting as dialogue even when someone else isn't speaking it aloud — something I initially made a note to praise it for. This is her version of "talking" after all — only for the texts to suddenly become bolded halfway through the book. As for strange details, Myers seems to like giving his antagonists a lumpy food to indulge in — Lil' Miss forces Roman to eat her cottage cheese, Xiong oatmeal with the consistency of cement — and Roman, quite oddly, decides to cover his spider tattoo with a grinning pumpkin. (Were they a thing in A Clockwork Orange? It's been years since I read it...) Neo learns to fly a plan by watching Xiong's assistant start it up and then, I kid you not, pulling up a How To article. Perhaps my favorite bit though is when Roman reveals his master plan to gain a monopoly on Vale's coffee industry and successfully does so by attacking one (1) warehouse. This is treated with the utmost seriousness.

*(Second side note: the color brown is tied closely to Neo's backstory; to the person her parents wanted Trivia to be. She has her brown hair, only one brown eye, is introduced in a brown dress, wears a brown blazer and pants that her parents bought, and attends Lady Browning’s Preparatory Academy for Girls, the school meant to turn her into a 'real' lady.)

That last bit though, the coffee heist, feeds into my biggest problem with the book's plot. @superzerokarasu and I have been talking about this the last two days, acknowledging it as one of the book's bigger flaws. (And, Superzerokarasu, if tumblr actually tags you, feel free to ignore this absolutely massive wall of text. I just wanted to give credit for the conversations 👍). Basically, towards the end of the novel it is, quite randomly, revealed that there is an important Room at the academy. Important enough that the story capitalizes it — that's not my doing. We haven't heard at thing about this Room before but Neo, apparently, has been trying to sneak into it for weeks. She knows Lady Beat is hiding something in there. Did we know this, especially since we've spent half the novel in Neo's head? Nope! No sooner has this mystery been introduced than Neo is solving it, much like how the group solves the problem of using Ambrosius moments after his rules are explained. Neo throws up an illusion of an empty hallway, picks the lock on the door, and discovers that Lady Beat has been spying on everyone who ever attended her school through the small pins students and graduates wear. This means she has access to private information about important people all over Remnant. Shocking! Neo reacts to this discovery by tearing the hard drive loose, there are some confusing suggestions about how this information will save them from Lil' Miss and Xiong, and then Roman sends the information to a news station, revealing all. Thus ends the world-wide conspiracy we just found out about.

It's muddied. It's ridiculous. It, most importantly, comes out of nowhere. There's absolutely no buildup to this mystery, just a sudden announcement that it exists and, wouldn't you know, here's the conclusion. Superzerokarasu is correct that this problem could be solved by increasing the academy sections and fleshing this mystery out. I'm of the opinion that it could also be solved by eliminating it entirely. Why in the world do Roman and Neo need to grapple with a world-changing reveal, especially when the rest of the novel is so tame? Roman shakes money down from other small-time crooks. Neo learns diction and combat at school. Roman leaves the Kingdom to avoid Lil' Miss. Neo sneaks out of the house and goes on shopping sprees. She saves him from a street fight, he takes her out to tea, they proceed to rob convenience stores. Their conflicts take place on such a small scale that this conspiracy plot feels ridiculous compared to the rest of the novel, even if it did have better setup. In contrast, their big coffee heist likewise feels ridiculous for how small it is. As a duo (not Neo as an individual, now that she's involved with the Relics and such), they operate in a pretty specific niche of small crimes conducted for villains with large plans. Given the number of times the novel brought up that Roman should start stealing dust, I foolishly thought that the novel would conclude with them stealing dust. Why coffee? Why conspiracies? Why shootouts between two crime bosses on Neo's front lawn? Let them pull off an epic dust heist together, tying it back to Neo's family since her father is already neck-deep in the illegal dust trade, all of it setting up the characters we'll meet in the webseries: street crooks now stealing dust for Cinder. That's their specialty. Why not start that specialty here?

Instead we get a bunch of hurried plot points that, of course, will have no bearing on the first eight volumes of the webseries. Which brings us to...

Part Seven: Roman Holiday's Impact on RWBY

Quite obviously, this isn't a novel that exists in a vacuum. Roman Holiday, given that it is presented as an official Rooster Teeth product, is likewise meant to fit into the already established canon. This has been a challenge for Rooster Teeth in the past — important lore winding up in card games, mischaracterization in other novels, worry about how the upcoming game will re-tell events we've already seen — but has Roman Holiday perpetuated that trend?

Well, yes and no. Which is never a particularly satisfying answer, but in this case there are both aspects that are working and aspects that aren't. Let's tackle the good first.

Myers includes a lot of details throughout the story that help fill in RWBY's gaps. In this case, it's not information the viewer should have gotten in the webseries in order to have a complete understanding of the situation, but rather things that simply help connect the two works together, adding depth to what we already know. For example, there are those before mentioned times when characters suggest that Roman start stealing dust. “You aren’t the first person to suggest that. Maybe I should look into that...” (216). I do think it's a missed opportunity not to make a dust heist the climax of the story, but that doesn't erase the fact that this still functions as excellent setup for the webseries' premiere. We know RWBY opens on Roman robbing a dust shop. Now we have a better sense of how and why he got into that line of criminal work.

We likewise get to see the origins of Neo's parasol, not just how she got it (Roman), but also what led her to wanting that kind of weapon in the first place (struggling with the heaviness of swords, getting attached to a parasol she stole, impulsively using it to attack her father, escaping the fire with it and realizing that the ability to float from high places is an asset). Something else I particularly like is that Myers was careful to explain how Neo became so adept at fighting. According to the webseries, there are only three paths you can take: go to combat school like Ruby, live on the streets like Roman, or live outside the Kingdoms like Blake. Neo, as a rich girl kept within high society, doesn't fit any of those models, so Myers introduces an Academy that seeks to train young women for any eventuality, even an attack. Neo learns how to smile, sew, cook, courtesy... while also taking classes in acrobatics, combat, ballet, and fencing. All the girls train with a combat instructor — “I know this isn’t a combat school, but by the time we’re done, you will be as skilled as any Huntress in Remnant” (201) — and, not only that, but she undergoes some pretty intense testing. Balance is taught by “balancing on a tightrope twenty feet in the air, with no net below you. Lady Beat believed in ‘though love’—without the love part” (146). It's a teaching method that makes Ozpin's cliff test seem a little less insane and it highlights one of those fantasy elements of RWBY. When your students possess aura that can save them from a twenty foot fall, it's slightly more reasonable to include that as a challenge. So when Neo starts following Roman around, it doesn't feel off that she can keep up with him. She's been trained, has practiced her semblance alone, and gets additional tutoring from Roman himself. Myers neatly dodges the question of how a non-Huntress and such a privileged girl — unlike Nora or Cinder — became to be as talented as Neo is. Privilege actually bought her that knowledge, which Neo then combines with Roman's street smarts, making her the formidable fighter we know and love.

However, for every nice tether there is between Roman Holiday and RWBY there's a moment of worldbuilding that messes with our sense of the webseries. Or at least raises some pretty big concerns.

Given that we just came off of Volume 8, it's no surprise that I read the novel with an eye for hints about how these future events — the destruction of Atlas, evacuees in Vacuo — might impact the rest of Remnant. What Myers gave us... doesn't look good for RWBYJNOR's decision, or the theme Rooster Teeth was going for in Volume 8. Meaning, the show took on a very black and white view by the end of the Atlas arc. Ironwood is an irredeemable bad guy, Atlas is full of racist trash and deserves to sink, the heroes made the best decision possible given the circumstances. Myers' novel introduces some nuance that, sadly, doesn't serve that black and white view well. He describes Mistral as, frankly, suffering the exact same problems as Atlas. “The city elevator didn’t come down this far, to keep more of a buffer between the haves and the have nots... people at the base of the mountain had no business topside” (10-11). Sounds like the sort of divide between Mantle and Atlas, huh? With the exception that one elite is stationed on top of a mountain instead of a floating city. It's a class issue Neo confirms as a kid when she sneaks out to the lower districts, thinking that, "she was never, ever allowed out alone. ‘For your own safety,’ they said” (25). Rich, racist elites who think themselves better than everyone else isn't an Atlas problem, it's a Remnant problem. RWBYJNOR solved nothing by leaving the place behind (and having one citizen hold hands with a faunus) and the fact that the story acts as if things are better now that Atlesians can’t have picnics on a floating city is... a problem. We already knew RWBY struggles with its racism and classism themes, but moments like this continue to add fuel to the wildfire.

Similarly, the novel spends a not insignificant amount of time referencing Atlas as the technological capital of their world. We knew that already too, but hammering it home now, post-Volume 8, emphasizes the damage the group has done. No Atlas, no technology. Pretty much any technology, given how often it’s said to come directly from Atlas, or cloned from Atlas originals.

Regarding the evacuation, Myers gives us a moment where Roman outright rejects Vacuo as a place to escape to: “Vacuo was a good place to hide, but the desert was probably one of the few fates worse than Lil’ Miss. And while there was a thriving criminal element, it wouldn’t be particularly welcoming to a newcomer. There was no future for Roman there” (88). So the desert is a fate worse than a crime boss and Vacuans are so unwelcoming one individual won't risk going there... and now our heroes have dumped an undetermined number of evacuees in that desert, heading towards a Kingdom that doesn't want them. Obviously Myers needs to come up with a reason for why Roman ends up in Vale where Neo is, but doing it this way just highlights so many of Volume 8's problems. Specifically, that the group made such a world-altering decision when it arguably was no longer necessary and, more importantly, did so without once considering the consequences that seem obvious to everyone else in Remnant. Vacuo is the last place anyone wants to escape to... so why was that the heroes' first choice? "Because the show hasn't gone there yet" isn't an answer.

There are a couple smaller problems throughout — muddying the waters between semblances and magic again; emphasizing how many people unlock their semblances as kid and rely on their aura to get by, bringing up the question (again) of how Jaune was so ignorant — but I just want to cover two more issues here.

The first is what I mentioned above about the one grimm the novel has. Suffice to say, the grimm ignores the three fighters in front of it (Roman and the twins) and runs off because... well...

“Grimm are drawn by emotion. You never controlled it. It killed your enemies because most people you drop in here are going to be afraid. They won’t be able to fight back. But as far as I can tell, these girls don’t feel anything. And I’m not afraid to die... Anger can be a more powerful emotion than fear” (54-5).”

Let's tally up the problems with this speech:

The idea that Roman experiences no fear despite being cornered by a massive grimm, in a tiny room, in enemy territory

The idea that an ability to fight back increases the chance of the grimm running off to pick other targets (if that were the case, the group would never finish any fights)

Claiming that they're also left alone because the twins "don't feel anything" which is obviously ridiculous

Reframing Roman's lack of fear into, specifically, not fearing death. Again, a grimm doesn't care whether you fear death or no

Saying that the anger of the boss all the way up in his office is a stronger draw than the three people currently attacking the grimm

It's just a lot of nonsense, bending one of RWBY's most basic rules to give Roman a cool-sounding speech. Cool provided you ignore what the speech is actually implying, that is. Why bother with this? Just let the grimm break down the door halfway through the fight, moving the fight into a new space with new people causes chaos, Roman either escapes then, or he kills the grimm first and escapes afterwards. Better, in my opinion, to give the story a single grimm kill than introduce a bunch of philosophical complications about how much these characters definitely don't feel fear and one man's anger is suddenly a grimm magnet. It's just a strange scene and, looking back, the only scene where I really went, "What?" As evidenced by this entire review, I have problems with certain aspects of the novel, but none actively made me question what in the world Myers was trying to accomplish. This moment is the exception.

Finally, I'd like to briefly mention the ways in which Roman Holiday messes with our understanding of the huntsmen profession. Again, this is nothing new. From Blake and Yang shrugging off Adam's death, to Weiss asking if she can arrest her father, the true purpose of the job seems vague, especially when you toss in what they're legally allowed to get away with. At first, the novel seems to support the idea that huntsmen are responsible for defending the people from both grimm and criminals, especially in the cities where walls do most of the work of keeping grimm out. Roman worries that huntsmen will show up to put a stop to his robbery, there's a bounty for him “posted on all the Huntsmen job boards," and then, later, two huntsmen do show up to his bank heist and try to stop him — that coincidental timing (176). "It’s kind of refreshing to fight a bad guy instead of a Grimm for a change," says one, implying that their primary focus will always be grimm, but they're also not going to ignore criminal activity. I get that. I buy that. It fits with what else we've learned about the job from the webseries: students attend school specifically to learn how to fight grimm, but they're capable — and expected — to use those skills for the people's benefit, no matter what form that comes in. Hence, jobs like Jaune acting as a crossing guard. It works.

....Aaaand then Myers blows that understanding right out of the water.

“[The huntsmen are] being fined for destruction of public property and reckless endangerment. This isn’t the first time they’ve been reprimanded for using excessive force and gross misconduct. The Vale Huntsmen Guild reportedly is considering suspending their licenses (118).”

So wait, never mind, apparently huntsmen aren't supposed to stop bank robberies that they walk in on. Or at least, they're not supposed to stop them using "excessive force" and resulting in the "destruction of public property." Problem is, there's no way to battle another fighter of Roman's skill without doing property damage and, potentially, putting civilians in danger. The strength of Yang's punch blows small craters into the floor. Weiss uses dust that causes minor explosions. Ruby swings her scythe in such large arcs she could easily hit someone if she's not paying attention. Within the context of RWBY's powers, the huntsmen here didn't use "excessive force" because aura, semblances, dust, and insane weaponry are all staples of combat. So... what are they meant to do instead? Find out if Roman is just a normal dude and, if he's not, back out like, "Oh sorry. We can't fight someone our equal because that would require, you know, fighting. We'll wait for the police to capture you. They'll have a much better time without training, semblances, or any other combat resources, I'm sure..."

This single excerpt sends us right back into the "Huh?" territory. What are a huntsmen's responsibilities then? What are they legally allowed to do? And why are these expectations so inconsistent across the franchise? I know the answer here is that the group was pardoned by Ironwood, but it still seems absurd that we watched them steal military property, attack an official, cause a major grimm attack, and actively hide from the authorities... and all that's presented as fine. But trying to stop the guy currently robbing a bank? Well, that’s a suspendable offense. And we know this was taken seriously because Roman runs into one of the huntsmen later, a Roch Szalt, and we learn that his license wasn't just suspended, he lost it entirely. These side characters are out of their livelihood for defending the people while RWBYJNOR gained licenses for endangering them. There's something fundamentally wrong with your world building when your protagonists primarily get by on such massive inconsistencies.

Part Eight: The Last Section, I Swear

This is another aspect of the novel that I really hesitated over including, just because I do think there's a line between legit criticism and unkind nit-picking. In the end though, enough of a trend emerged that I thought I'd toss it out, especially since I've recently been pondering the question, "How does RWBY treat its women?" The answer should be obvious, right? This is a show about four girls fighting evil! Yet as the webseries continues, fans are noticing more and more divergences from that initial premise. Like creating a world where women are almost never in the primary positions of power. Like giving Jaune and Oscar the active, plot-forwarding scenes that should belong to Ruby and her team. Like that frat boy mentality I mentioned earlier on. The purpose here isn't to analyze that aspect of the webseries, I simply wanted to lay out where my thoughts were while reading Roman Holiday.

The disclaimer? Neo is great. The strange intersection between her identity and her semblance aside, I think she's entertaining, well-rounded, and the fact that she is given not just half the book's chapters, but that focus mentioned in Part One, resulted in a well-developed character. However, outside of Neo the women are frustratingly built around the same thing: sex appeal. Honey Wine is the club singer whose semblance lowers customers' inhabitations, acting like a Remnant version of a siren. The twins — despite those pedophilia rumors about Roman proving unfounded — are the butt of girlfriend/"You're cute" jokes, drawing attention to their developing looks more than their combat skills, strategies, etc. Both Lady Beat and Carmel, Neo's mom, possess that older woman charm expected of high society ladies. They're dangerous because they can acquire information and they acquire that information by looking the part: pretty smiles, fine clothes, figures that catch the eye. Even Lil' Miss, an established character with a lot of power at her fingertips, isn't exempt from this. When Roman first meets her he observes that fashion is clearly a part of her strategic mind, “a plunging neckline and purple corset distracted Roman even more” (19). Distracted, meaning, that Lil' Miss deliberately makes herself look hot so all the straight guys will lose their heads.

It's a bit more heavy-handed than just some over-used archetypes though, particularly when it comes to making Roman the guy that every girl wants — even when that's just him assuming they want him. Lil' Miss, again, suffers that treatment. “'Is she flirting?' he suddenly wondered. He hadn’t ever considered that she might like him, but if that was the case, he could use that to—” (57). In a similar situation played straight Chameleon, Roman's peer, is introduced with the statement that “She considered him a friend, and plainly wanted more than that" so Roman "continued to string her along” (45). It's that Ilia/Blake dynamic, just with added cruelty and a gender setup that carries completely different implications. Even the minor characters aren't safe from Roman's charms. Lisa Lavender — you know, Remnant's reporter? — receives flowers from Roman after she labels his robbery “one of the most brazen displays of lawlessness” she's ever seen (117). It's not presented as the villain being creepy though. When Roman contacts Lisa directly, we're given a verbal joke about her maybe interest. She loves... the ratings he brings in. Just the ratings. Of course.

It's worth noting that Chameleon isn't just reduced to a silly crush whose love allows Roman to escape, she's also the character who "has" to be naked in order to make the most of her semblance. Despite writing in an Atlas cape that blends into various backgrounds, Myers still emphasizes the absolute necessity of this woman fighting naked:

“She didn’t wear much clothing these days, both because it thwarted her natural camouflaging abilities, and because when she chose to show herself, it could be quite distracting... she stripped for added stealth—it wouldn’t be the first time” (81, 85).

It's a writing choice that I personally despise. And make no mistake, it is a choice. In a world with magical abilities and futuristic tech, there's no reason to make the presumably young woman — we're never given an age, but Chameleon is written to be particularly naïve — getting naked in front of others, especially a man that is stringing her along. Clothes only "thwart" a magical ability when the author says it does. Why can't semblances make outfits camouflage too? Because then there wouldn't be an excuse for the hot women to strip.

Particularly for more important characters like Lil' Miss or Lady Beat, these aspects are not the sum total of their characters... but there's enough there to be wince-worthy if you're already sick of such trends; already keeping an eye out for what RWBY writes in regards to gender. I think a good way to summarize Roman Holiday's idea of feminism is when Neo is staking out a coffee shop and Roman asks her to bring him a coffee when she comes back. She returns with an empty cup reading, "Get your own coffee." It's clearly meant to be this empowering moment — how dare the man ask for food like she's some servant! — except it's ruined by the context of the situation. Namely, that Neo is already at a coffee shop. And Roman isn't rude about asking for one. And they've already traded presents in the form of a crazy expensive parasol for her and a new hat for him. Asking your crime partner, who just happens to be a women, to pick up a coffee on her way home when it’s clearly not a hassle, is not the outdated insult Myers seems to think it is. And that's what a lot of these choices are: details that don't break the novel by any means, but come across as out of touch none-the-less.

Part Nine: The End (Okay, This is the Final Section)

The novel concludes with Roman and Neo flying off together, avoiding the authorities, nothing they have to do except "set the world on fire" (208). It's a rather bittersweet ending given Neo's certainty that no one will ever catch them because we know, eventually, Roman will die and Neo will be left alone. I quite like ending things on that optimistic note, both because it fits their current mindsets and because it adds that extra, emotional punch for the reader. Their story isn't done... but it will be soon.

And thus ends my review as well! Review? Analysis? Little mix of both, I suppose. Hardly the most succinct thing I've ever written, but what did anyone expect. Final thoughts? I still liked the novel. Despite everything above — despite re-wading through eight major problems I had with the text, ranging from minor preferences to arguably massive mistakes — my overall takeaway remains, "I'm glad I read it." It's been a long time since I actively enjoyed a RWBY story; where my entertainment and appreciation of the writing outweighed the problems I had with it. I know I'm far from the only one currently dissatisfied with the canon, so if you're looking to re-ignite some of that old, RWBY spark? Give Roman Holiday a try.

And, of course, thank you for reading! 💜

#rwby #rwde #(maybe? tagging to be sure)#RWBY: Roman Holiday #Roman Holiday #mymetas

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mirrorforevers · 4 years ago

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heavenly nobodies (or “the fog”) • graham/reader

this is a bit heavier than usual, ladies. proceed w caution. tw for mentions of abusive relationships, drug abuse and reader has no self-esteem at all. nothing too descriptive in that sense though

on a lighter note, reader n graham are basically two lost adults acting like petty children

a quick disclaimer: its not my intention in *any way* to glorify or romanticize drug abuse or basically anything any of these characters do - its messed up shit. this is fiction, don't take it seriously, please

if this fic was a song, even though its titled after a lush song, it would be lark by angel olsen i guess. might have a sequel someday i dunno

+18, as always. contains smut. this is sososososo long and has went through so many rewrites im sorry. but i do think its my best fic yet!

set in the mid 90s

word count: 3.780

You still remember the day it began.

A nasty fight took place between Graham and Alex. You only got involved because your relationship became one of the topics of the heated debate. Long story short, Graham basically screamed at you two that you, Y/N, were wasting your life away by dating someone like James.

At first you were blind with rage and defended your decadent relationship while insulting Coxon until your throat burned from the screaming match, but afterwards, after you caught yourself thinking a little too long about how James' eyes sometimes seemed to hover over you with an indifference Coxon's never, ever showed, and how it hurt to see Alex in the arms of an entire sea of more attractive women than you - and how shallow you've become for even trying to excuse his behavior with something as empty as the fact you weren't as stereotypically beautiful as the other girls he screwed, you noticed something wasn't quite right about the entire situation, but you still felt shivers at the prospect of telling him you were sorry. He also had a lot to apologize for.

The fog. That's what's been messing with your mind lately. And Graham's. And everyone else's.

It's hard to think about things clearly as they happen in your life when all you feel during most of it is hedonistic, empty bliss. Everything moves in slow motion. The regret, the harsh words, always come afterwards, like a sudden car crash, after people realize the very real consequences of what they said and done while they were immersed in their own very temporary, elusive, pleasures. The fog also made you bitter - not only you, but Graham, Alex and the other boys as well; your relationship with them as a group of friends and individually, each in a different way, consequently turned into a toxic, resentful mess of chaotic feelings and unresolved conflicts. Your relationship with Graham was by far the most affected.

You grew up together. You went to the same college. You very briefly had a thing. He drew you lots and lots of times, you haven't lost a drawing. You realized you didn't love him like *that* and he was okay with it. You were still as close as ever.

Then you met his other friends. In the beginning, he was so excited about this whole "band" thing. The boys were funny, compelling, undoubtedly hard to deal with sometimes, but you got them quickly. Their music very gradually became successful - they deserved it. They sounded so good together. You noticed Graham was a bit jealous of how you interacted with the other boys sometimes. Damon and Dave were the first ones who tried (hard) to bed you, but Alex, effortlessly, was the one who got to.

One night turned into two, three, fifteen. Then into a fucked up prototype of a relationship around the time their stages got bigger, more packed with screaming teenagers and all of you met her – heroin. Graham got proportionally and gradually more distressed and anxious each day. You didn't know which one of these things disturbed him the most, after all, he didn't speak to you (or anyone, for fuck's sake) like he used to. Thousands of little things began to intercalate and swallow everything you've built together.

You've started to hate him - he refused to speak to you about what was bothering him, and you barely talked outside of the inevitable circumstances. Meanwhile, Alex dragged you even deeper into his questionable lifestyle and you shrinked into it until you could pretend it fit you like a glove. You felt so small. Invisible to everything and everyone who truly mattered, even to yourself. You tried to reach out to the one who mattered most plenty of times, but every time you tried to reach out to him it would end up in screams and even more resentment. It seemed like there was no way back - he hated you as well because he thought you were just like Alex. It felt like a knife was twisted in your stomach when he said it the first time. You pretended it didn't hurt the other ones - those were the nights your binges were the worst and you'd vomit yourself to sleep, though.

Everything was leading you to one of those nights again, until you heard a knock on your door. At this time of night, it was definitely Alex.

You tried to tidy yourself up as much as you could in a matter of a few minutes. You thought you weren't as effortlessly beautiful as the other women in his life - as if cheating had something to do with appearance and not with his character, but oh well - and you felt like you had to at least try to keep up with their pace. You washed your face, smeared some foundation on some old stretch (and track) marks and tried to pretend his presence was the brightest spot on your day. He disguised so much criticism under the pretense of worry, leaving you feeling so bad about yourself, but you needed his approval like you needed air on your lungs (or opioids on your veins) for some reason you couldn't quite explain.

You open the door, holding your breath while you tried to ignore the pit that grew on your stomach just to find out that...

"Graham?" You were simultaneously relieved and revolted to see him on your door. Adrenaline ran through your veins. You didn't realize how afraid you were of him - you've only hurt one another with words, but still, you were afraid to cross eyes with him just because you felt like it would start another fight and you would simply never speak to each other ever again, not even to fight. You were afraid of how deep your friendship has corroded.

He was visibly hurting, just like you. It comforted and hurt you to see it.

"You were waiting for him, weren't you?" He noted, vaguely motioning towards the lipstick on your lips. You felt pathetic.

"What are you doing here?" You quickly wiped the lipstick off your lips while he looks around, not really knowing what to answer. His eyes, puffy, somehow indicated he wasn't there to say he was sorry. At that point, you didn't even cared who was in the wrong. You just wanted to know why he was there.

"Just came here to tell you that... I'm leaving Blur, and... I'll be moving to Germany with a friend. Tomorrow."

"What kind of joke is this?"

"I wanted to tell you because... I felt like we got so used to each other's presence t-that... even if you're relieved by the news, uh, I think you should know in advance."

There was no mischief in his eyes. There was no point in joking with something like that. It's not like you were comfortable enough with each other to joke with each other nowadays anyway. That realization crushed you and anchored you to the very confusing and tragic reality just laid out in front of you.

It was so uncharacteristic. You knew of his tendency to run away from these types of situations and this time he simply didn't. Your mouth refused to close. "I-I don't understand. You... You can't... You can't just do that. You have a fucking gig tomorrow!"

"I won't justify myself to you. Just... take care of yourself and... don't let that leech suck the life out of you more than he already did."

"You don't understand. You don't understand anything. Is this about him? Again?" In yet another wave of adrenaline, you pulled him inside your flat and he just lets you. "Are you moving to bloody Germany because of what went on between us today?!"

"I don't care that you don't love me. I care that I can't go for a fucking day without seeing you waste away your life with him. If he was someone that made you happy... but he's just killing you. I can't deal with that."

Still in shock, you pulled him in a desperate kiss. It was not an attempt of making him stay, but something else entirely new. He had to say he was leaving so you could really know, in a matter of a few seconds, how much you needed him there.

His reciprocity simultaneously broke your heart and filled it with hope - you knew how far your relationship with Alex went and how tough it would be to break free from the chains he's got your heart tangled in, but at the same time, Coxon kissed you in a way no one else ever did. He loved you like no one else could. And that's how you noticed how easily you clinged to any sign of true affection given how much Alex's been neglecting your emotional and physical needs lately. Everything was about him all the time, it was a monologue. Graham and you had a conversation.

(A conversation that lasted all night. Thankfully, Alex didn't show up. He must've been talking to someone else.)

Instead of sweet nothings and love confessions, funnily enough, you and Graham exchanged soft "I hate you"s after the deed was done. You both hated the situation you were in. Hated that even though the passion burned hot as fire between you, you were stuck in a mess bigger than everything that just went through both of you. But never each other. You just couldn't name the feeling right.

Perhaps needless to mention, he stayed in the United Kingdom. Instead of sitting and talking like adults about what you felt about each other though, the bickering somehow became even worse.

Of course you started to take his side on fights more often. Mock Alex's behavior together more often. Something definitely changed between the two of you, but it still wasn't enough. Graham was still furious that you wouldn't give up on James. You were still furious that he wouldn't take your relationship with Alex seriously. It had its many faults, yes, but it was special in a way no one else grasped and you were raised to think that people shouldn't give up on others that easily, a convention that no modern deconstruction of social norms could take out of you out of a sudden. Not even Graham. But instead of raising your voices and breaking things around you, you've found other means to release the tension between you. Usually in dark corners of untidy pubs, his flat or yours. It became so frequent it didn't need any planning anymore.

Following the opposite path of the earlier days of your animosity, the more intense the fights got now, the lower your voices got. Instead of distancing yourselves from each other in the middle of screams, your bodies got closer like magnets. He could be so tender somehow even when his words stung like venom.

You were living and breathing contradictions. Him in the way he conveys his hopeless submissiveness to you in the way every touch of yours breaks him and the way he just isn't able to cum if he sees you're not having enough pleasure, yet he fucks you like he wants it to hurt and pretends nothing happened after you're done; and you in the way you cling to him like he's your lifeline when he's deep inside of you but isn't hesitant to not look him in the eye on some other nights.

The night of one of the parties thrown by Blur's record company following the release of The Great Escape wasn't one of the latter.

While the lower floor of the venue is frenetic with people immersed in different levels of ecstasy caused by all sorts of different substances, the upper floor is reserved to the lovers, or people who were looking for a calmer place to talk or to relatively safely de-escalate from their highs. You, on the other hand, just wanted to run away from the view of Alex kissing another woman in the event he brought you to. You were almost falling asleep in one of the tiny, dimly lit and cramped rooms when a small, familiar voice woke you up. "Why aren't you downstairs with your future husband?"

You feel aloof. The slightest mention of the one you think you love disgruntles you. "Ugh. I should have known it was you," you grumble, giving him room to share the sofa with you. "You know why."

"I don't. Someone once told me I don't understand anything." He accepts the offer almost unconsciously. It's so interesting to see how his actions contradict his words and posture, just like your actions contradict yours.

"I'm still right about that. Why did you come here? To mock me?"

"You're lost."

"And so are you. Don’t talk. I don’t want to hear it."

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks, calmly, knowing what the answer will be.

It's always a no.

You instinctively move closer to him, as if he's about to disappear in a cloud of dust in any moment. You don't ever want him to leave.

He notices your eyes are glistening when your lips touch, so smoothly and in such a tender way. His hands enter your hair, just below your ears, and you melt at his touch all over again.

The kiss starts out slow, then becomes more and more intense. His tongue slides against yours and you whine, clutching at him like he’s the only thing tethering you to this earth. It becomes so easy to let him settle between your thighs. He runs one of his large hands through your hair, fists it, and pulls your head so he can have easier access to your neck, filling it with open-mouthed kisses. “Why the fuck,” you manage to murmur in between heavy breaths, “do you care so much about me?”

He doesn't answer. His fingers trace the hem of your dress instead, skimming up the side of your leg. You whimper as he moves them over the sensitive skin to the apex of your thighs, his lips finding the side of your throat again. He sucks a mark into your skin just as his thumb caress your core so lightly above your underwear and you whisper, voice trembling with desire: "You're so much better than him."

He's not sure if you're just leading him on, and neither are you. He doesn't even know if he has heard it right. The fog really blurs every line. Reason, feelings, motives. "You never cried over me", he answers, seeking to turn that reality around, it seemed. Your hips buck into his touch, and a moan escapes you when his hand coyly seeks direct contact with your clit, stimulating it with precision from the start. "You truly... don't know shit," you gasp, grinding harder against his touch and losing yourself to his ministrations, the fog of an earlier hit helping in enveloping you in a state of so much bliss.

"Do you want me to lock the door?" His raspy voice takes you out of this world. You nod, a little disappointed by having such a great feeling interrupted for the sake of privacy. Your lips were spit-slick and pinkened, your eyes half lidded. The sight made Graham breathe hard through his nose, but he somehow kept his composure. When he goes to lock the door, you couldn't help noticing the tent you helped build in his jeans. You feel proud of yourself.

He returns with the hungry kisses and eager touches, slowly driving you crazy all over again. His kisses lower down, down... and you pat his shoulders, motioning for him to stop. "I want to make you feel good tonight." He accepts the offer.

You scooch downwards, just above his hips, and you pull his pants and the waistband to his briefs down in one swift motion. He's painfully hard, but that was hardly a surprise. Graham straightens his back just in time to watch you take the reddened head of his cock into your mouth. He claps a hand over his mouth, hips bucking upwards into the wet heat instinctively, your warm breath enveloping his dick and clouding his mind.

Wrapping your fingers around it, you gently jerk him off, slowly sliding your hand from the tip back to the base. He groans, watching you as you fill his senses with a dull warmth. You stare back at him, smiling as he groans at your warm breath.

You run the tip of your index finger tentatively along the underside of his cock, watching with fascination as his cock twitches and reacts to your presence. You lean forward, breathing on the head before planting a soft kiss on the tip. Coxon whimpers, his dick aching from your attention. Tired of the teasing, you begin stroking it, your soft fingers loosely bouncing along his shaft. He leans his head back to the ceiling when you kiss the tip again.

You eye his cock excitedly, before you lean forward and lick his head, swirling your tongue around the crown and flicking it across the tip. His hips thrust forward before you can even react, his mind reeling as your tongue slowly traces along a vein you followed from the head all the way to the base. He groans, and was about to say something when his mind went blank. He sees pure white, his brain shutting down almost completely as you wrap your mouth around the end of his cock and set a steady rhythm to the oral stimulation. His chest rumbles as a deep growl of satisfaction leaves him, shaking through the air, the vibrations in your mouth punctuating his growl with a hiss.

He cracks his eyes open, his glazed eyes staring down to find you staring directly at him. The sight of his rigid cock vanishing between your soft lips made his skin crawl. He groans heavily, grasping your head on instinct and thrusting forward.

You gasp lightly as he shoves himself deeper inside your mouth, pushing against your throat. He moans your name desperately, panting heavily as his hips automatically thrust against you. You stand firm, keeping only the front half of his cock in your mouth, slithering your tongue against the crown and watching intently for his reactions. He was close, his mind firmly on fire as his body reacted on autopilot, trying to extract as much pleasure as possible. He could feel his climax approaching, your soft lips and gentle eyes coaxing him on. You look into his eyes and give an experimental bob of your head, taking him further into your mouth. Feeling the characteristic salty taste of precum on your tongue, you take your mouth off his cock, and before his mind is able to form a cohesive sentence of protest, you take off your underwear and sit on his lap. His hands now squeeze your hip, pulling you closer. Your wetness leaves a bit of a trail on his legs before you sink on his hard, already lubricated cock.

"You're addicted to my cock, aren't you," It's fascinating how Graham's behavior changes when he's drunk. In the best and worst ways. He would never say something like that while sober. You nod in agreement, face flush with arousal and need. "He can't even fuck you," he punctuactes with an especially hard thrust, "like I can." he envelops you in a sort of hug as his broad shoulders and arms now dictate the rhythm you both follow.

"He--c-an't, fuck--"

"Do you think," he takes his entire cock out of you just so he can go even deeper when he says, "he'll hear us... if you say my name out loud?" he smiles when a loud moan escapes your lips, feeling completely in control of your body. You can't even talk anymore, just nod, like a marionette.

"So say it." Another thrust. And another. And another. You follow his pace with your hips religiously, not even slightly ashamed of making the name of the one who's giving you so much pleasure public, as he commanded. You take the last atom of control on your body and direct it to your pussy, clenching your walls tighter around him, an action that successfully tears his thoughts apart, making his eyebrows furrow and his mouth, agape. One of his hands move to the middle of your bodies and, as he looks down at where your bodies meet, begins to stimulate your clit to the rhythm of his thrusts. His groans turn louder when your body moves towards his again, and the sound of your moans, along with the sound of skin against skin and your ragged breaths were the only thing you were able to hear, along with the distant sound of It Could Be You playing in the background.

In a daze, he says your name in that unique way that only he knew how to - like it was part of a prayer and your body was his God(dess). You dig your nails into his back while he fucks you without a trace of mercy. You close your eyes, losing yourself in all those sensations as Graham continued his movements. When he punctuates his now even faster thrusts with a string of "fuck, fuck, fuck" - that's when you know he's close, a suspicion confirmed true as he comes hard inside of you, closing his eyes tightly as he reached his climax. You follow him seconds later.

When he recovers enough to be able to breathe calmly and control his heartbeat, Graham rests his chin on your shoulder. Neither of you say anything for a long time.

And when the spasms of pleasure are gone, Graham's brain decides to go back to work and he realizes what had just happened - again. Suddenly, the sensation of bliss is accompanied by that weird sensation of "What do I do now?". He carefully removes his dick from you and pulls his jeans up, zipping up his pants while you straighten your dress and search for your panties in the middle of the dark. Both without saying a single word.

Graham clears his throat, glancing at the mirror behind the door and seeing his state was deplorable. His face reddened by the heat and his hair a perfect mess. You were in no better situation than him.

“Uh,” Graham said a long time later, breaking the silence. “How long is that arrangement supposed to last?”

"I won't count the time." You responded calmly.

He nods, mystified by you.

#graham coxon #graham coxon x reader #graham x reader #britpop #smut #imagine #reader insert #blur #blur band #90s

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akaiamedama · 4 years ago

Text

Of crocodiles and rings and a possible connection to a teased weakness

Crocodile is a guy that is real extra and dresses sharp and loves his bling bling, right? He’s a man of high standards, so of course, he’s gotta wear bling to show that. Other bling loving characters are Capone Bege and Blackbeard for example. All three of them like to show off that bling. Now why do I mention the other two? Coz look at these three bling loving gentlemen, wearing rings on every finger and tell me where the difference lies. I’ll wait.

Exactly!

As opposed to Bege and Blackbeard, Crocodile doesn’t wear a ring on every finger. Obviously he cannot wear 10 rings coz he only got one hand with 5 fingers but he also never wears 5 rings. No, no. This guy, ladies and gentlemen, kinda makes it a point to always leave out one finger and that’s the ring finger. Ha- interesting.

Now, of course this could be mere coincidence. But let’s be realistic here, it’s Oda. He clearly has a reason for it as he’s been true to this detail ever since Crocodile was introduced over a decade ago and the only real question is ‘why’?

Why would Crocodile do that? He clearly loves wearing rings so why not wear them on every finger? Why leave out the ring finger for crying out loud? If one wanted to leave a finger without a ring, one would probably leave out the pinky or the thumb but who puts rings on every finger and leaves out the ring finger? I tell you who.

Crocodile. That’s who.

If you’re one who believes in symbolism and all that stuff, then you’d probably find it interesting that the ring finger symbolises releationships with others especially romantical ones as it is seen closest to the heart and therefore or because of it is the finger a wedding ring is worn on. In most cultures the engagement ring is worn on the right hand and the wedding ring on the left as the right hand is often the ‘physical’ one and has a greater visibility. It’s probably interesting to note that the left hand is considered to represent your character and beliefs. Ha. Interesting that Crocodile is missing that one, huh? Anyhow, in Crocodile’s case left or right hand doesn’t really matter as he only has one left (duh) so an argument can be made that sides don’t matter and the importance lies on the finger itself.

The way it looks right now is that he’s making a statement leaving out the ring finger and there are a few possibilites here. Of course it could be a family ring and he could be from an important family but really, not only would that be a bit to similar to Doflamingo, it would also not make sense to not just replace the family ring on the occations he’s not wearing it. But he never wears a ring on that finger so one can only come to the conclusion that there’s some sentimental thought behind that.

The most logical would be that there is a ring he believes should be on that finger. Either he’s keeping it free for a future event coz he doesn’t have the ring yet (which I doubt) or he’s keeping it free coz technically there already is a ring for the finger. This could be a ring he doesn’t have anymore and regrets it (like he lost it with his left hand or threw it away) or a ring he does have but decides not to wear for his own reasons. Whichever it is, it clearly has such an important value that he doesn’t just covers it up or replaces it.

Now, given the ring finger and it’s symbolism the thought of a wedding ring isn’t too far fetched. We don’t know enough about his past to say that he could never have been married so I think it’s worth looking into.

Let’s just imagine for a second, that the ring missing is indeed a wedding ring, what could that mean?

He could have had a wife but she died and even though he’d technically not be married anymore, people who lost their partner almost always keep their wedding ring as a memento. If they move on, they don’t wear it anymore but they often keep it. This could give another perspective to the ‘wounds’ Daz was referring to after Marineford as he was clearly not talking about Luffy’s physical wounds but about the emotional wounds that came with losing a loved one.

Crocodile could have had a wife but she betrayed him and he took the ring off as to break the relationship and connection. Then the choice to not wear a ring on that finger in the future could serve as a reminder to himself not to trust people, not even those close to you. This could possibly explain his huge trust issues.

However, these two scenarios, while possible, don’t strike me as the most likely simply due to the two following scenes:

“If you want to protect something, do it right!!”

This could be totally random and only refer to the moment at hand but it could also indicate that he knows a thing or two about how to successfully protect someone. Which leads us to the infamous

“I know one of his weaknesses ...!! But if he cooperates with us ... then I won’t say anything about it!!”

Think about it, the biggest weakness ANY pirate of Crocodiles caliber could have is a loved one or people they care about and their identity and location to be known by the public or enemies (marines, pirates etc.) because no matter how powerful a pirate you are, if information like that was to spread and reach the wrong ears, this could have catastrophic consequences for you and the people you care about. It’s used over and over in OP stories like when the marines hunted down Gol D. Rogers offspring and slaughtered all newborn who could potentially have been Roger’s child or when the marines swore to kill Luffy for being Dragon’s son or when Zeff was used as leverage to force Sanji to comply. I doubt anyone knows Usopp is Yasopp’s son or that he had a woman and child in Syrup village otherwise someone would have probably attacked them to get back at Yasopp. Maybe that’s one of the reasons he left them. As to protect them.

Ivankov and Croc met years ago when Croc was still considered a rookie, so in his early/mid twenties. If there is indeed a ring to that finger and the person is still alive, Ivankov could know her identity or location and this could totally be the weakness Ivankov was refering to. Of course this only works if the person is still alive.

Now I know, you’re probably scratching your head, thinking I might be a bit nuts going this direction considering it’s Crocodile we’re talking about but really, think about it. His choice of jewelry is mega weird so what could be the reaaon for it? Also it’s hardly the weirdest theory out there (looking at you femCroc theorists).

This would also tie in neatly with why he decided to have his Baroque agents working in teams of two with male/female. I mean, unlike other characters, he clearly doesn't seem to see women as the weaker sex and him having his agents work in pairs has to be grounded somewhere. Maybe he was raised like that and his parents where a good example of how well men and women complement each other or maybe he made the experience himself. If so, I tend to think that he wasn't betrayed by the woman... or maybe he was and that's one of the reasons why he was so paranoid and basically expected Robin to betray him. All possible, really.

It’s also apparent that Oda incorporates marriages a lot more often nowadays than he did in the early years of One Piece. Mr 9 and Mrs Mondey got married on a cover page and have a baby, Capone got married and his henchman Gotty married too, Sai and Baby 5 married, Sanji and Pudding were meant to marry and let’s not forget poor Senior Pink’s backstory.

Last but not least, I’d like to point out a seemingly random fan question Oda answered in an SBS which seems just kinda odd once you consider everything I said above.

Now the question focuses on “they never had a child” and “I wonder what faces their children would have”, yet Oda starts with “They’ve been to weddings before ...” ... WOW. Really? Why would he say that? XD No one even asked about weddings. Funny. So they’ve been to weddings, huh? As what? Guests? Grooms? You know? It doesn’t seem to mean anything but if you consider Crocodile’s rings and such imo it’s just a weird thing to say. Then the mysterious “I wouldn’t say whether they had children or not ...” .....

Note: Especially during Alabasta Oda often forgets to draw Croc’s rings at all or accidentally leaves out the wrong finger but he is consistent with the rings since Impel Down. He still forgets them from time to time but he doesn’t switch the fingers anymore so one could reason that he had a vague idea of Crocodile’s reasons behind the rings when he introduced him but only solidified it or gave it more details once Croc showed back up. The anime and games however often just leave out the wrong ring probably thinking that it doesn’t matter.

#one piece #sir crocodile #crocodile #eiichiro oda #one piece theory #crocodile theory #wani yarou #crocoboy

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washymylifeaway · 4 years ago

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SakuAtsu Fanfic recs pt2 leggo

I promised a pt 2 and here it is! Link to pt 1 here :) I was lazy so given summaries (I cped this time, but in the future I might paraphrase), and ofc these aren’t all of the ones I loved, just some :D So in no particular order, have some SakuAtsu <3

As always, pls check WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES for fics before reading (esp cause I didn’t put individual warnings PLEASE make sure you’re okay with the content!!!!!!) and make sure you’re taking care of yourselves (since mental health is key!) Stay healthy loves <3

Teach Me, Tune Me, Tempt Me by Anonymous (E) 38.8k // Sakusa Kiyoomi needs to conquer many lifelong fears in order to enter his first romantic relationship. Miya Atsumu is there to guide him every step of the way, even if the one Sakusa desires is someone else.

Flowers Bloom In Our Masks by UnicornFlowers (G) 24.5k // "Mysophobia, also known as verminophobia, germophobia, germaphobia, bacillophobia and bacteriophobia, is a pathological fear of contamination and germs." "You read that off of Wikipedia." "That's the point, Omi-kun. I read up on it fer you."

the art of folding a handkerchief by Emlee_J (T) 5.6k // “Atsumu-san’s just realised he likes Sakusa-san,” Shouyou says simply, as though announcing the weather. “Ahh,” Bokuto nods sagely, standing up straight and nodding his head, as though this was a perfectly normal thing to hear and not monumental in any way. “'Ahh?'” Atsumu protests, indignantly, “what do ya mean ‘ahh?’” “We were wondering when you were going to notice,” Bokuto shrugs, and Atsumu gawps at him. “'Scuse me?” He splutters, and whips his gaze around to Shouyou, who bobs his head at him in confirmation. “How did you two notice before I did?” Atsumu blurts out. "Most people do," Shouyou says softly. -In which Atsumu develops something annoying, like feelings for a teammate, but at least he has a couple of wingmen and Tobio's seemingly infinite resources to help him out.

for whom the heart beats by cielelyse (T) 1.6k // Atsumu's heart keeps skipping a beat whenever Sakusa's around - so often that it's baffling and honestly downright concerning. "I think I might have a medical condition," he says into the phone. "Good," says Osamu, and hangs up.

as you are by papertulips (G) 5.8k // Kiyoomi learns that falling for Atsumu is the easiest thing in the world.

Hide and seek by badreputation (E) 10.5k // It’s just a fleeting infatuation. As long as he pushes through it he’ll manage. So what if nowadays there isn’t a night where he doesn’t dream of Sakusa pinning him down on his own bed, in the shower or make Atsumu go down on his knees in the hallway? Those are just pesky details.

People Will Say We're in Love by tirralirra (T) 9.5k // “Saku...Atsu? What does that even mean?” Atsumu says, squinting at the device. People seem to think that Sakusa and Atsumu are in love, so they come up with a list of things to do to deter that. Maybe it would work...if they weren’t in love.

do not separate! by aalphard (T) 5k // He knows he likes peanut butter and the tuna onigiri Uncle Shamu makes for him. He knows he likes volleyball and the way his daddy looks so, so cool when he’s on court. He knows he likes drawing and playing with toy swords. He knows he likes reading and it’s even better when Atsumu is the one reading for him. He knows he likes to have pancakes in the morning but he also really, really likes tamagoyaki and he knows his daddy can’t make those at all. He tries, but fails every single time. He knows his daddy’s teammates like him and he knows they’ll help him if he wants to play with them one day. But the thing is he likes Uncle Omi-kun more than he likes the rest of them and that is a secret he won’t tell anyone that’s not his daddy. He doesn’t like to make people sad.“Omi?” “Yeah?” “Nao said he likes you more than he likes the rest of the team. Don’t tell’em.” or atsumu is a single dad and kiyoomi can't help but fall for him.

you make my heart burn by myhopeisjhope (G) 9.2k // “What’s up with that awful expression?” Atsumu asked. He leaned against the counter with his hip, looking directly at Kiyoomi, his regular fox-line grin plastered on his face. Kiyoomi made eye-contact with him then, his eyebrows knotting in annoyance, but Atsumu was too interested in the cute pair of beauty marks above Kiyoomi’s eye to care about the glare that was sent his way. “What’s up with that awful hair?” Kiyoomi shot back. And that was exactly when Atsumu decided he liked the guy.

somewhere in the middle (i think we lied a little) by akanemnida (E) 4.3k // “Body worship,” Miya said instantly, after Kiyoomi asked him what he wanted as reward as the winner of their service ace competition. “I can do that,” Kiyoomi said with a frown. “God, you really are the vainest person on this planet—”Miya shook his head, smirking. “Nuh-uh, Omi-kun. I meant I wanted ‘ta worship ‘ya.”(Or: Sakusa and Atsumu and all the blurred lines in between.)

san'yō expressway, 6:17 pm by yamabato (T) 8.1k // Atsumu tilts his head to watch a slice of orange light bend over the impassive planes of Sakusa’s face. He is absolutely, ruthlessly beautiful. It makes Atsumu want to punch something—put his foot through the windshield—scream, maybe. Kiss him again, maybe. They have 344 kilometers to figure this one out.

affection by papertulips (G) 2.1k // "I gave you the key to my house for emergencies only." “This is an emergency.” “What?” Atsumu pouts, looking up at him with wide eyes that definitely work on Kiyoomi but he will never admit it. “I missed you.”

love could be labeled poison and we'd drink it anyways by myhopeisjhope (NR) 21.3k // "Huh?" is Atsumu's response, and it's seemingly the only thing the man could think of after the minute-long silence that stretched between them. "We should break up," Kiyoomi repeats, more clearly now. He doesn't let any emotion seep into his voice, keeping it neutral and detached, as if breaking up with Atsumu was the easiest thing ever, while in fact it's the complete opposite.

And I'll Ask for the Sea by meeks00 (T) 6.9k // When a couple of his teammates reveal that Atsumu has feelings for him, Sakusa doesn’t react well. It doesn’t help that Atsumu is his typical petty and salty self. --“Come on,” Atsumu is saying in a wheedling tone behind a bright grin. “Just stop,” Sakusa snaps suddenly. “Will you just leave me alone for once? I don’t even like you!”Normally, Sakusa’s words don’t phase Atsumu at all. He’ll talk over Sakusa or brush off any harsh words easily enough and might turn to someone else for the attention he apparently craves. But this time, Sakusa’s words seem to stop him cold, the smile freezing for just a moment on his face.

the Definition of Miya Atsumu, by Sakusa Kiyoomi by orphan_account (G) 4k // Miya Atsumu is a self-centred prick who thinks he's top shit. Underneath the word 'asshole' in the dictionary is a picture of his stupidly pretty face. Sakusa Kiyoomi's definition is, according to him, 100% correct, until he takes a closer look.

i’ll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands) by liliapocalypse (T) 7.6k // Seeing Sakusa stressed out, Atsumu writes random letters on Sakusa’s skin to soothe him during the team’s assisted stretches. Somewhere along the way, the touches shift from barely tolerable to something Sakusa actively craved for. One day, though, Atsumu accidentally writes a confession instead.

it ain't no matter of 'if' honey, it's just a matter of 'when' by irleggsy (M) 2.1k // With a beer in one hand and an accusatory pointer finger on the other, Sakusa slurred, shouted even, “Atsumu. If you wear those godforsaken cutoff camo jorts one more fucking time I’m breaking up with you.”Atsumu made a noise in his throat caught somewhere between a wheeze and a squawk that came out more of an avant-garde honk noise than anything else. He stared up at Sakusa with wide eyes, a bewildered smile just barely glued onto his face. Or: The MSBY Black Jackals go to a bar. Sakusa likes to run his mouth when he's drunk.

dog eat dog eat dog world by perennials (T) 8.4k // You are your first and only line of defense against the universe.

Who Could Have Seen This Coming? by crone_zone (M) 16.7k // Peering out the side of his eyes at the man walking beside him, Sakusa wondered why he’d impulsively changed his mind about his plans this evening when he’d noticed Miya’s reluctance. Surely he wasn’t worried about this asshole, was he?--In which Sakusa impulsively invites Atsumu over to his apartment when he sees he's upset and something entirely unexpected happens: he realizes he likes this asshole. Cue [off-camera]sex, mutual confessions, insecurity, and adorable losers who are opposite in all the right ways.

Miya Atsumu's unwavering love for Sakusa Kiyoomi and an unholy amount of terrible food analogies that should not have the right to Exist by aiviloti (G) 5.6k // Five times Miya Atsumu talks to (harasses) his friends and sibling because he has feelings for Sakusa and doesn't know what to do or how to deal with them and the one time he talks to Sakusa about it. “How do you make friends apart from showering them in praise?” Atsumu wails one night, and Osamu thinks, oh god, here we go again.

Sakusa's Secret Admirer by TwilaFrost (T) 20.2k // Every day after practice, Kiyoomi finds another letter inside his shoe locker. It's only every signed: -❤ He's determined to find this person. Is it crazy to fall in love with someone you've never met?

take what's yours and make it mine by claudusdiei (T) 5.9k // (this has a second fic hehe) atsumu falls in love four times in his life (or: in which atsumu gets his heart broken twice, has the self-awareness of a sober mule and really likes yellow tulips)

School Bus Yellow by yuuki (G) 4.9k // Atsumu has a crush on Sakusa, and it’s kind of ridiculous how much he likes a guy who wears ugly colored jackets and is afraid of germs.Though, Atsumu’s probably not all that great himself. He’s still figuring that part out.

show me how by emeraldpalace (G) 2.9k // Sakusa isn’t sure when or how it happened, but the fact remains: Miya Atsumu has become a comfortable constant in his life.

touch me (i want you to) by melstar (G) 3.9k // He should have seen it coming, really. Spend six months tip-toeing around the line of domesticity with the team’s resident germaphobe, and there was no way he’d be able to think of the guy the same way anymore. Or, Atsumu touches Sakusa's arm once and thus begins a downward spiral into the inescapable jaws of attraction.

Dreaming of You, Talking About You by kitkatwrites (T) 1.1k // Osamu learns that Atsumu talks in his sleep, especially about a certain wing spiker from Tokyo.

If your world falls apart, I'd start a riot by Serendipity (jenjaemrens) (NR) 3.1k // "It was Atsumu who was the older brother, but it was Osamu who was more protective of him. He would always protect Atsumu from things around them that could hurt him. "Or, the story of Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu through the eyes of Miya Osamu.

but soft what light by min_mintobe (T) 2.1k // "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day, Bokkun—" Atsumu drawls, "—hot. "In which Miya Atsumu woos Sakusa Kiyoomi by (gratuitously, seductively) quoting Shakespeare. One-shot.

sakusa kiyoomi's fixation on (miya atsumu's) lips by catsoncocaine (E) 3.7k // Everything about Atsumu is fucking beautiful, but there is one specific part of his that is like kryptonite for Kiyoomi. It is both his curse and his remedy, rendering him useless and yet egging him on to move at the same time. Kiyoomi hates it as much as he loves it.

The Jacket In Your Closet by dai_naning (T) 8.6k // According to the gossiping players around him, Miya Atsumu is an asshole. He's an incredible player in court and an obnoxious person off the court. He taunts people, points out their weakness, and doesn't give a shit if he's disliked or not. Some even say his teammates ostracize him. Sakusa looks at Miya Atsumu and can only see a player who keeps his eyes firmly forward, demanding the same to the players who want to stay on the court. Sakusa can't fault him for that. (That doesn't erase the fact that he's an asshole though. And that he's still the one who gave a jacket to a stranger.)

sakusa kiyoomi is....an uncle? by miyaudrey (T) 5.9k // “Oh, by the way, my nieces and nephews are going to be there.” “Your what now?” Or, Atsumu finds out three hours prior to a Sakusa family gathering that Kiyoomi is an uncle.

Confessions of a V-League Setter by Anubis_2701 (T) 3.3k // "Never?" Sakusa's lips thinned. "No, never. Now stop talking to me." Or, Atsumu discovers that Sakusa Kiyoomi, germaphobe and reluctant heartthrob of the Black Jackals, has never been confessed to before. He decides to change that.

Touch Me by cajynn (E) 3k // Sakusa actually likes being touched but he's very picky when it comes to who and how. When the who turns out to be Miya Atsumu he has a crisis.

Please Stop Crying by dauwtrappen (G) 2.9k // Friday starts off well until it doesn’t and Kiyoomi can hear something crash, feel something snap inside him when Miya, about to set him up for a quick attack, suddenly starts crying in the middle of their three-on-three. Kiyoomi doesn’t even react when the ball bounces off his head, doesn’t cringe when his face is smushed against the net briefly because he forgets to land in front of the it. He’s too shocked, too appalled with the tears pouring out from Miya’s eyes to care.

I can't take much more of your hesitating by playexodus (T) 2.7k // The curved sides of Atsumu’s pecs peek through that absurd tank top at just the right angle. Sakusa swallows. “Your entire chest is hanging out of that shirt. We’re in public. You could at least pretend to be a decent, morally upright person. Not to mention that this Los Angeles beach boy aesthetic is terrible on you.”Glancing back down at Atsumu’s chest to glare at his sharp, glistening collarbones is a bad idea. Sakusa wills his eyes to stay fixated on Atsumu’s face. As it turns out, this too, is a bad idea. “Oh?” Atsumu turns his half-lidded gaze onto Sakusa, the corners of his mouth curling. “Just to be clear: you’re definitely not enjoying the view then, Omi-Omi?”

curse breaking by allicanseeispink (T) 9.2k // Nearing the fourth hour of the silent treatment, Kiyoomi’s already frayed nerves began to whittle down to their last fibers. Today, it was raining. A proper Tokyo monsoon tantrum just shy of a full-blown typhoon that left puddles on sidewalks and fell from an angle so wicked it eluded umbrellas. It was raining and they haven’t spoken in almost four hours. (In which Sakusa wanders into the minefield that is Atsumu's feelings and tries not to blow things up.)

Summer Special: Omigiri by mika60 (T) 6.9k // Miya Osamu always comes up with the perfect marketing plan for his shop, even if it involves the two biggest idiots he knows.

a list of things sakusa kiyoomi hates by BrenH (T) 7.3k // “Just fuckin’ write shit down so ya remember it then. ”It was probably supposed to be a joke, just Osamu being as annoying and unhelpful as always, just reminding him that he shouldn’t have bothered trying to count on his brother for help. He’s forgotten about the whole thing until a few days later when he’s shopping and comes across a small, black notebook shaped like a cat, and his brother’s stupid suggestion flashes through his mind. Before he knows it, the cute little notebook is dropped in his basket, purchased, and in his possession. Or, the one where Osamu suggests Atsumu keep a notebook to track all the things Sakusa hates that he does, and he takes it further than he means to.

A Challenge, A Cat, and A Confession by Kitaa (G) 6.2k // Atsumu enjoys bothering Sakusa. One day he bothers him enough to be invited over to his apartment, only to discover that Sakusa has a plant, a cat, and a cute laugh.

Multiples Of Two by yuuki (G) 3.3k // He does everything in multiples of two. The day Sakusa Kiyoomi died, Atsumu checked his pulse twenty-eight times. Okay, so Sakusa Kiyoomi has never died. And Atsumu has never been close enough to Sakusa to be able to check his pulse. So what if Atsumu is just being dramatic again? He’s allowed to be dramatic when he’s in love with a man who has less emotion than a rock.

gold rush by sketchedsmiles (T) 18k // When the MSBY Black Jackals sign their newest team member, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Atsumu makes it his personal responsibility to befriend the indifferent player.

got sand in my eyes (and my shorts too, damn you miya) by luxnoctre (T) 4.7k // On one of their rare rest days, Hinata takes the part of the MSBY team to the beach. Chaos ensures. (or alternatively, do not piss off Sakusa when he is in the middle of relaxing)

mortality is found in the flesh of your sins by citronnes (M) 10.6k // dickhead one, sakusa kiyoomi. dickhead two, miya atsumu. neither understand how to communicate. Pray tell, why are you drawn to him?Are you drawn to him in the way he looks beautiful even when crying? When his eyes are red, shiny tears streaking down, lips quivering, is he beautiful?

This was v long ahahaha.... Anyway, is this finished? No LOL, but I’ll just make small additions via reblogs (?) over time. Maybe :) Sorry if you wanted me to ramble on about SakuAtsu,,,, slide into my messages/asks for that LOL. Maybe over time I’ll add the commentary from other posts I make in the future :’)

#sakuatsu #haikyuu fanfic rec #haikyuu fic recs #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq fic rec #anime #manga #sakuatsu fic recs #i'm a lazy person #also if you saw me saying i was gonna post kyouhaba #no you didnt #like i just said #lazy #there are a lot of fics in that one #anyway #all of these are really good #like i couldnt not put them all #ya know?

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spookybias · 4 years ago

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ᝰ frozen ideals | park sunghoon ˎˊ˗

paring: park sunghoon x gender neutral! reader

genre: slice of life ─ fluff, slight angst

content: idol! sunghoon x figure skater! reader, more than friends but less than lovers au, i ramble a bit about what a home is.

synopsis: sunghoon revisits the ice rink, and after seeing you, begins to have doubts on what he really wants in life.

word count: 2.7k

note: this only took a couple of days, so it’s not my best work. i kind of overdid it i guess? this was supposed to be short, but i just couldn’t stop. i also cried while writing a couple of paragraphs of this lol. one more thing, i’m not the best with endings, so i’m not sure if you guys will understand it. it is happy, though.

SUNGHOON DIDN'T VISIT THE ICE RINK AS OFTEN AS HE BEFORE. During his figure skating career, he was often at the ice rink at least 3-4 times a week. Sometimes before school hours, other times after school hours, and many times during school hours. If he thought his life as a professional figure skater was busy, his belief had changed once advancing from trainee to applicant to contestant, and finally, to idol.

Sunghoon’s time was divided between training, schoolwork, competitions, and every now and then, interviews.

His schedule was now made up of all the tasks of a predebut idol. There were photoshoots, interviews, and vocal and dance practices to attend. His free time was given away, -but only out of love for his fans- to sudden vlive sessions and random social media updates. he rarely ever had time to himself nowadays, as even what was left after all of his daily routines and weekly events was often used to eat, freshen up, and rest. And none of this would compare to the schedule that was to come once him and the boys made their debut.

There were times where he thought back to his days on the ice; what would life be like if he hadn’t quit figure skating?

It had been a long time since he had visited the ice rink, and while all the other boys used their one free day off in a while to visit their family back home, or to hang out with their old friends at their favorite place, Sunghoon found himself back at the ice rink. But who’s to say that this favorite place of his that he spent many times at alone, wasn’t his home?

Home isn’t where you live. No, that was your apartment, your house, your condo or your space at the shelter, maybe even the streets. Home is the place that provides you with a sense of security, an overwhelming amount of happiness, a much more avaliable version of cloud 9. Even when you’ve been there twenty times in one week, forty times in one month, the place still feels like a new visit each time. That’s a home.

Often, it isn’t what you do at said place that makes it a home. It’s the safe space founded by the very things about that place that make you happy. The angle at which the lights hit, the background noise that boasts behind you when you’re having fun, the people inhabiting the environment. All these things still feel new, but recognizable every time you visit.

This was the case for Park Sunghoon. You were his safe space.

The ice rink was nearly empty except for you, your coach, and the advisor who kept watch to make sure there weren’t any mishaps in the rink. This wasn’t meant to be a private meeting. You almost always arrived as soon as the rink opened, and so there were never really people there.

Sunghoon had shown up out of the blue after waking up with a sudden urge to visit the rink. It wasn’t until he stood in the seating area, looking over the frost, did he realize how much he missed. He remembered the goosebumps that grazed his skin when the chilly air hit his bare arms and the numb feeling you get on your butt when you land on it after falling back.

He longed for it all, but maybe not enough to quit his new career.

You noticed the lanky boy outside the rink after landing a toe loop. You were a skater, sure, but you weren’t the most coordinated one. You had often made it to competitions with Sunghoon, but you wouldn’t ever make it as far as he did. Still, you loved ice skating, and you would only get better.

That being said, you hadn’t gotten better just yet and were easily distracted. Skidding to a halt, you cheerfully waved to Sunghoon. “Hi, Hoonie!” That meant your eyes were off the cracking ice in front of you, and you tripped, flying forward.

Sunghoon rushed out onto the ice, panic gracing his features. He was accustomed to the ice, and carefully but quickly made it to you in his converse.

“____, are you okay?” Sunghoon didn’t wait for an answer, wrapping one of your arms around his neck and hoisting you up bridal style. “I haven’t seen you in months, and when I finally do I cause an accident.” He shook his head.

You chuckled at his self-disappointment. You waited for him to put you down on the bleachers before telling him, “It wasn’t that big of a deal Sunghoon. I’ve fallen hundreds of times. Ninety out of a hundred of those times, you weren’t there to help me.”

“If it was no big deal, then why did you need me to carry you off the ice?”

You smiled mockingly, eyes shut tight and lips pressed together, a compressed smile at its finest. “I didn’t. I just wanted a free ride.”

Sunghoon shook his head, laughing. His laugh was light like a feather, quiet like a baby’s snore. “You always were lazy,” He replied jokingly.

“Hey! I’ve been practicing really hard! Someone has to take your place, remember? And you’re not here to coach me anymore.”

It was true. After word got around that the Park Sunghoon had quit his career as a professional figure skater, everyone in you guys’ age range seemed to be fighting to be known as the best. For awhile, Sunghoon offered you tips and techniques for mastering his most known tricks. You were someone dear to him, and even when you guys were competing against each other, he secretly hoped you’d do better than him.

The young boy only got busier, though, and could no longer help you train.

“____!” You were snapped out of your conversation by your coach, Eunkyung. She walked up to the two of you. The way she eyed Sunghoon -a look of disbelief mixed with digust- made you gulp. “Stop fooling around. He isn’t here to train you anymore, therefore, he’s wasting valuable time.”

You knew how Eunkyung felt towards Sunghoon. She had dreams of making it as big as him when she was the same age, but couldn’t due to financial situations. Seeing someone who had everything she wanted in a figure skating career give it all up irked her soul. She had openly voiced her opinions on Park Sunghoon to you and the other trainees.

“Please, Eunkyung.” You begged in a low voice, but Sunghoon could still hear. Something about you begging Eunkyung to let him stay made his heart flutter. “We hardly see each other anymore. I really missed him.”

That was it. Sunghoon’s ears were suddenly on fire. When had you gotten so bold?

“Fine. Thirty minutes. Don’t expect another break today because this is the only one you’ll be getting.” Eunkyung walked off muttering something about ungrateful teens and the next competition being in three weeks.

You began to move from the bench Sunghoon had dropped you off at, but immediately sat back down, a hiss escaping your lips.

“You said you were fine.” Sunghoon placed a protective hand on your shoulder, as if the pain was a person making their way towards you.

“I am fine.” You stared out onto the ice trying to wiggle out the static shooting through your leg.

“That isn’t the kind of sound people make when they’re fine, ____. I’ll get Eunkyung.”

“No.” Your voice was firm. “It’s just a cramp, Sunghoon. You know figure skaters get cramps.”

Sunghoon stood quietly, looking down at you, but you avoided eye contact. “Okay.”

“I get them a lot. Eunkyung says it’s because I don’t stretch enough beforehand. We used to stretch together, remember? But you’re not here anymore so I forget.” The statement sounded more spiteful than you intended.

Sunghoon wondered if you were mad at him, and hiding your anger with fake excitement towards seeing him again. Did you secretly wish that he had never come back?

You kept bringing up the past and reminding him that he wasn’t around anymore. It was times like these where he questioned what he really wanted.

The two of you sat in silence. Just basking in each other’s existence was enough. That’s what was so mesmerizing about your friendship. Sometimes all the two of you did was sit next to each other, and it felt like so much fun.

“It’s been awhile, huh, ice prince?” You broke the silence and smiled playfully. “Did you miss me?” Your tone was teasing when you asked, but deep down you knew that if the answer was no your heart would shatter.

Sunghoon didn’t bother to even fight back. “Yeah, I did.” He liked it when you called him ice prince. It could get him to admit anything. It could even make him admit he was in love with you, but you didn’t need to know that.

“You never text me anymore.” He couldn’t figure out if it was a normal statement or a sad one. “I know you’re busy, though.” He exhaled being grateful for that add-on. “What’s it like?”

“I love it.” Sunghoon simply stated. You hardly even finished asking the question when he had answered. “It’s a lot of work, and sometimes I can’t believe I made it, but I love it.”

“You love Jake especially too, right?” You teased.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“You know I’m kidding,” You shook your head, laughing. Sunghoon missed hearing your laugh. The audio recordings from old videos of you two together just weren’t enough for him anymore.

“You know you’re the only…” Sunghoon trailed off and looked away. Talking about his feelings for you was difficult for him. It was difficult for you too. You didn’t need him to finish his sentence. Of course, you often needed reassurance that you hadn’t been replaced, but just the first few words of his statement were enough. You knew what he meant.

He was the only one for you too.

“Do you think what I’m doing is right?” Sunghoon suddenly questioned. For some reason he was holding back a sob, and he wasn’t sure why.

You stared at a scrape in the ice for a moment, before finally turning to the boy of your dreams. “Yes.” You nodded your head, smiling. “I watch your vlives and read your interviews and I retweet all your photos and cheer on all your moments.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek. You were happy for Sunghoon, but it hurt that he was doubting his desires after a long time of trying to prove himself.

You continued, “Sometimes my friends tell me I’m whipped, but I’m just really happy for you, Hoonie. So please don’t doubt yourself.”

Sunghoon was glad that only one tear had escaped. He didn’t want you to cry over him. “There are days where I try to imagine what life would be like if I was still here. Skating with you and everyone else.”

You replied almost instantly. “Well stop imagining those things. You’re not here anymore. You can’t let what you thought you wanted interfere with what you really want. You didn’t leave anyone or anything behind. It’s not like you forgot about this place. We still love you, and we’re rooting for you and always have been. You spent so long trying to prove yourself to everybody. Don’t let those years be in vein. If you quit, I swear I’ll-”

“I’m not going to quit.” Sunghoon stopped you. “If you’re proud of me, then I must be doing the right thing.”

You let out a breath and smiled, turning away from the boy once again. “Ideals change, ice prince. You’re allowed to change.”

Sunghoon looked over at you, noting how you avoided eye contact. He found it really cute. “Thank you, ____.” The two of you shared a smile, and then Sunghoon looked down to your left leg. “How is it? Is the cramp gone?”

You stood up, wiggled your left foot, and hopped on your left leg for good measure. “Yep! Think we can go around the rink for a bit before my break is up?”

Sunghoon’s cheeks turned pink. “Are you asking me out?”

You tightened your laces and laughed. “I would never."

SUNGHOON SKATED BESIDE YOU. This wasn’t a date. Despite your hands clasped together tightly but comfortably and the statements shared between the two of you earlier, you and Sunghoon were not a thing. The two of you were just a couple of friends who almost had something due to your shared interest and quiet bonding. You loved each other and it wasn’t complicated, but it was uncharted territory neither of you were ready to enter.

You skidded to a stop. “I’ve been practicing really hard,” You told Sunghoon again. You skated circles around him. “Eunkyung says that with a couple more months of training, I can make it farther than you ever did.”

“Is that a threat?” Sunghoon began following after you, the two of you facing each other, skating sideways to form a small circle around the spot you guys had just been standing in.

“Yes, it is.” You stuck your tongue out at him. “But seriously. It’s so much work ‘cause you’re known for doing the most.” You rolled your eyes, remembering the countless laps Eunkyung made you skate around the ice rink. You brightened up when you remembered something else. “I’ve been getting a lot better at salchows, though, which we all know I am terrible at. Look.”

Sunghoon watched in amazement as you skated around the rink, performing salchows over and over again. Your landings were a little slopping, but you could easily fix that.

“I wanna show you something else before you go.” Suddenly Sunghoon remembered that he had to leave soon, as your break would be up, and he had to see his mother in a bit. He followed you out the ice rink.

You opened your backpack, which Sunghoon had just now noticed was left out on the bleachers. He would have to remind you not to do that. If the rink got crowded, someone could steal your stuff. You pulled out a black notebook and handed it to Sunghoon.

He opened the notebook, puzzled at the lines and numbers all over the pages along with little doodles. However, his confusion went away once he realized that the little doodles were diagrams of figure skating tricks, and the lines and numbers all matched up to physics calculations.

“After you left, I honestly forgot a lot of your tips. It was hard using your methods without you being around to coach me.” You looked down at your hands. “I take physics in school, so I’ve been using it to help me with figure skating.”

Sunghoon was in awe. In his mind, he had been selfish to keep wishing he could be back at the rink just to help you. If he had stayed, he would just be stopping you from finding your own techniques, from realizing your full potential. He now realized that he didn’t have to keep worrying about if you were okay. You were doing just fine without him, and although that thought would be negative to most, Sunghoon was proud of you.

“____, this is amazing.”

“You don’t think it’s nerdy?”

“Of course not. You’re a genius,” Sunghoon stated. The embarrassment that had just filled your senses was quickly replaced by fluster. “Um, thanks, Hoonie.”

The two of you continued to flip through the book together, you pointing out tiny notes that you wanted Sunghoon to see, and him asking questions and nodding his head in intrigue. Sunghoon flipped to the most recent diagram, and examined the page.

“What’s this?” Sunghoon pointed to a diagram of a trick he had never seen before.

“Oh! Eunkyung says that if I want to stand out I should combine a couple of moves and form my own tricks, and name them something cool. I need to show the judges how I stand out from the other contestants.” You looked over the page, and caught a small note in your handwriting. Suddenly feeling nervous, you tried to change the subject. “Uh, why don’t we skate some more.”

Sunghoon glanced at you before scanning the page once more. And then he saw it. The diagram was a mix of a salchow and a toe loop, two moves Sunghoon was very much known for perfecting. Under the diagram were two words that made Sunghoon’s heart flutter.

Ice Prince.

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saikagerights · 4 years ago

Text

Lay Me Down to Rest - Entry for Day of MirSan 2021

Hello there! And welcome to my first Inuyasha fanfiction, as apart of the @dayofmirsan event.

I initially was planning to be an observer of the event, but sudden inspiration struck at 1am during my nightly routine of falling asleep to Inuyasha. Rewatching the Monkey Sprite episode is interesting for many reasons. For one, there was an unhealthy amount of filler added into the anime adaptation of this story-line, which gave hit-or-miss comedy. But the most important thing is that Miroku and Sango are mostly unaccounted for in this story-line, which gives shippers like me an opportunity to write some “off-screen development” for them. And though the anime does give us an idea, I’m afraid that Miroku’s indifference and frustrated edge in the scene feels a bit off, so I decided to add a bit of a bit of context. Consider this a bit of a fusion between the anime in manga, though the scene is based off of the anime. Also I was very liberal with my use of English/Japanese dub terminology. I watched the anime in English, but switched over to the manga to replace the Final Act, so it’s a bit inconsistent.

I’ve been observing this fandom from afar ever since I started getting into Inuyasha back in December, and though I wanted to try and engage with it, it seemed very daunting given this fandom’s age and organization. But I’m very grateful that I was given the chance to participate in this event, and lucky that inspiration struck me at the right time. I’ve really been looking forward to seeing the works that come out of this event, and I hope you enjoy my contribution.

And thanks for the mods for allowing me to share my work with you fellow fans

InuYasha and it’s properties are owned by creator Rumiko Takahashi and Sunrise

Read on AO3

Sango tailed the monk as he led their investigation. The villagers they had asked so far had no knowledge of the wicked demon, only of the pestering monkeys that were ravaging their fields. Her companion simply nodded, thanking them for their time and promising that the Inugami would save their village. They soon found themselves at the outskirts of the village on an empty patch of land outside the forest, save for one tall tree. Sango found his behavior during their search to be strange, especially as he now paused at the tree, leaving his Shakujo leaning against its trunk.

Was he just as stumped as she was? Would this reprieve be a chance for them to rethink their approach?

“Why have we stopped here, Miroku?” She questioned. “Aren’t we supposed to search for Naraku’s whereabouts?”

Her befuddlement heightened as he laid his body to rest in the grass underneath the shade of the tree with a sigh, both hands pillowing his head. His intentions then became clear at the sight of his eyelids slipping shut.

“How might we do that when we have neither Inuyasha’s nose or Kagome’s detection?” His tone reflected his relaxed poise. “I merely said that so that Inuyasha would be more inclined to help those villagers.”

Her head tilted downward towards the monk’s resting face. “I understand wanting to help, but do you honestly think that Inuyasha dealing with those monkeys will get us any closer to finding him?

“Not particularly.” He punctuated the off-handed remark with a yawn, overstating his disinterest. “But enough of that... Why don’t you join me here?”

She stood awestruck at his bold request. He lays there while their friends were helping this poor village and now he asks her to do the same? If Inuyahsa were to find out, he’d surely have more pressing things to worry about than the food security of the village.

“I don’t think it would be wise, considering your flippant lies.”

The man remained still, no sign of concern disrupting his posture.

“If you changed back into your battle attire before our return, they’d never suspect a thing.” He ignored her statement, a peaceful smile casually appearing on his face. She instantly recognized this move. He was fully convinced he would get his way, the sleazy crook. “Besides, I’m sure sleep has been as kind to you as it has been to me as of late.”

Although it was usually hard to detect amongst his manner of speaking, the monk’s sarcasm was not missed by the slayer. She knew very well that Naraku’s sudden disappearance had their whole group on edge, including herself. And while sleep had become its own battle, the desperate investigations of their enemy have left her distracted from everything else. Sleep meant the rest needed to fight again, but it also meant time alone with one’s most intimate thoughts. What always plagued her mind nowadays were things she’d rather not willingly engage. Finding Naraku should be her biggest concern now, but she indulged her companion despite what she would consider was her better judgement.

The monk had a particular talent for steering her away from rationality.

“Knowing your pervy ways, I’m sure you’d try and sneak a peek at me”

The monk could’ve never noticed the sneer on her face behind his still-closed eyes. The same smile was plastered on his face as well, despite her accusation. He really did enjoy giving her grief, didn’t he...

“Trust me, my dear. I have no intention of moving from this spot for a while. Or at least until Inuyasha comes for my head.”

“Then I guess you wouldn’t mind if I left Kilala here to guard this spot until I returned.”

He chuckled at that. “I don’t mind at all. I’m sure she’d love to watch me lie here, right Kilala?”

Sango looked to the nekomata, who merely chuffed in response. She was wary of Kilala’s strange trust in the monk at times, but she was sure that the demon would keep an eye on him in case he tried something funny.

Miroku took this as the perfect time to reveal his indigo eyes to her.

“Please, my intentions are more honorable than what they seem, believe me.”

There it was, that gentle voice of his used to convince her of his authenticity. The same breathy tones that sent her heart racing and her stomach in somersaults. She knew Miroku was confident in his charms, but she also liked to think that he was fully aware of this game they played. She only came to grips with it recently, but there was something going on.

They’d fight, they’d talk it through, and just when she thought he would try to make a move, that damn hand of his would find the wrong place to caress. Or it would be when she found herself grieving once more, and he could comfort her with his words alone. How did he always know what to say that made everything clear and could heal every fiber of her being, but also had a hand that never failed to do the exact opposite? He was a truly frustrating man, but he was the only one she ever considered more than just that.

But did he really know? That was a puzzle Sango couldn’t solve. It wasn’t as if anything meaningful resulted from these escapades. Afterwards, they would act as if nothing happened, and he would return to his typical flirtatious ways with any woman that entered his line of sight. So Sango liked to think that Miroku fully knew that he was toying with her feelings. That way it made it easier to lower her expectations and resent them despite Kagome’s not-so-subtle prodding.

When she became abruptly aware that her eyes had been locked on him for too long, she made her hasty retreat, hoping he didn’t catch her bright red flush in the shade of the tree.

“This man will be the death of me,” she softly cursed herself as soon as she knew she left his earshot.

_______________________________________________________________

Upon her return to their little “spot,” she was greeted by an alert Miroku. His body was now fully upright and turned towards her approaching form.

“You’ve accepted my invitation, I see”

“I thought you were trying to sleep”

“I still am, but I’d figured it would help if I got a quick glimpse of your beauty before-hand.”

She rolled her eyes at his shameless attempt. “You really are troublesome, you know that?”

“You wound me, dear Sango!” He unceremoniously flopped back into his previous position, his left hand patting the spot next to him. “You are free to lie beside me if you wish.”

Without the need for consideration, she silently opted to sit against Kilala’s curled form, stretching her legs in front of her. He managed to convince her to relax alongside him, but she had no intention of allowing herself to get too comfortable around him in the likely case the monk’s wandering hands wandered once more. He sighed audibly at her decision, but allowed his eyes to close again without any further word. He could act like a child all he wanted, but she would not budge.

She watched the man for a while, observing his state of rest. She could tell as much that he hadn’t fallen asleep just yet by all of his idle noises and the way he kept trying to steal a glance in her direction.

“Can’t sleep?”

She hadn’t even tried to close her eyes just yet, as she was still trying to grasp their current situation. Why was he so insistent on sleeping if he was just going to try and stare at her the entire afternoon? Why did he lie to Inuyasha in the first place if this was how they would spend their time? With all these questions moving around in her head, she might as well ask for the most basic of them.

“Miroku? Why do you lie and steal as casually as you do? I always thought that monks were pure-hearted.”

“What a wonderful question!” He exclaimed. With such enthusiasm, she was almost afraid of the answer she would soon receive from him. “I’ve been traveling on my own for so long, and it’s quite difficult to acquire wealth in such unfortunate times. I wish to give aid to those in need, but I also believe that it never hurts to help yourself as well.” He settled for an even tone and let his eyes slip open once more.

“And you are right, It is true that holy-people such as myself are meant to be free of sin. But, I was born tainted by the hole that resides in my hand.” His voice tapered off at his pause, the newfound silence growing thick with each passing moment. His sound returned to him, soft and low, as if it were only meant for his ears alone.

“It doesn’t matter how much I devote myself to my faith to any idol or deity. My curse is hell-bent on deciding my fate....”

But we are trying to stop Naraku! To free you from the Kazaana. You can always change your path after that! She immediately contested, perhaps a little too loudly, but she didn’t care. How dare he speak so little of himself and avoid her gaze as he did it?! She refused to accept his belittling statements.

“It is very hard for me to see a future for myself at this time, I’m afraid…” He brought his head up to look at her. A flash of fear ran through his eyes before he looked down once more. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t speak like that.”

He’s afraid…

And he had every right to be.

“Please don’t apologize.”

He never showed it in front of their group, but behind that calm and smooth exterior remained a man trembling under the weight of his own mortality. He was a man after all, and men were never to show what made them most vulnerable. But with how much he gives to help others, it feels unfair for him to just allow himself to suffer inside as he did.

If they understood each other as well as he liked to claim, then she knew he hated the restless feeling they had knowing nothing of where their wicked nemesis resided, surely plotting something to exploit the fears he caused within their hearts. Knowing that her poor brother remained in that demon’s grasp sickened her to her core, and sitting around with no leads made it hard to lay dormant as they did now.

“I get it. I am just as frustrated as you… About Kohaku-”

“-You don’t need to go any further” He interrupted her thoughts, I didn’t mean to remind you of your pain like that.”

“Miroku-”

“-Please,” he sharply cut in once more, hoarseness settling into his throat. He must’ve noticed it as well, as he cleared his throat soon after. “let’s just try to find rest while we still can.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly trying to force unconsciousness upon himself. Sango relented, trying to relax her body, idly stroking Kilala as she watched the man slowly succumb to rest. It was surreal to see him struggle like this when it seemed like meditation was second nature to him. She decided on trying for sleep once his breathing evened out and all the remaining tension left his face.

________________________________________________________________

Miroku wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but he could tell from the shadows before him had grown considerably when his eyes peered open. He turned his head to see Sango now curled up against Kilala, her face all but buried in her demon companion’s fur. He slowly rose to his feet, slightly stretching as he made an intake of his surroundings. It looked as if the sun would soon begin it’s retreat from the sky. The monk knew the rest was necessary, but he definitely didn’t look forward to another predictively sleepless night.

One more glance at Sango’s sleeping form was enough to convince him to approach her, neglecting his Shakujo to silence his movements. He knew, probably better than anybody, of the threat imposed by the slayer’s attuned senses. He also knew the danger of being caught if she awoke to his gawking. Unfortunately it was a risk he was willing for one small fleeting moment to stare at her.

What an idiot he had been for making her sympathize with his life. Even worse that it reminded her of her own grief. He was happy to indulge her curiosity, but when he looked up at her, he turned cowardly at what he saw. It wasn’t fear, or sadness over his grim fate. It was the very same fire that lit behind her eyes in battle.

She was prepared to fight for him, it seemed…

He dare not think that she would go any farther for that. He was not worth her death. In fact, nothing was worth her death. The honor of her clan was at stake, and her life was essential in carrying on their legacy. One measly itinerant monk with a fated death should be worthless in her eyes, even if he wanted nothing more than to keep her alive.

Even if he wanted more than anything to see a future with her.

He turned away from her, returning to his spot in a now seated position. The monk had half a mind to wake the woman, but decided against it. Every waking moment for her was its own battle, after all. She needed all the rest she could get. And he’d gladly wait for her until that battle resumed, and fight with her at every step.

And if dying for her now meant he could spend the next life by her side, then he would welcome death with open arms.

“I hope this woman is the death of me,” he softly wished before all else melted away to his own meditation.

______________________________________________________________

Yeah I realized I took some liberties here with how Miroku and Sango’s relationship was at this point. This episode takes place after the Temptress of the Mist and Demon-Head castle, but far behind Mt. Hakurei, so what was going on with them hadn’t really become a “pattern” just yet. And Miroku had just comforted her in her grieving state for the first time right before that. Sango wasn’t deep enough to say he was her reason for living, so that’s why I kept her on the fence and didn’t have her feel too disappointed, because that’s what came after Mt Hakurei.

I’m a sucker for long winded perspective changes, especially here with all the parallels I draw between them. Some of my best lines were written here, especially the ending line. My GOD. I swear, I wrote that and everything made sense. I said “yes” over and over again, it was so good.

Also can you tell whose voice I’m talking about when describing Miroku’s? The answer is Koji Tsujitani. I always knew about Tsujitani’s delivery that makes Miroku sound truly “fake” but I noticed rather recently how he would add so much breath, especially in serious scenes. On the other hand, Kirby Morrow played the character down and deep in his throat, which isn’t bad when talking about his overall performance, but I decided to favor Tsujitani’s performance in this instance.

(I’m a classically trained singer and a music education major, so I’m a nut for analyzing voice acting. I have respect for both of these men may they rest in peace.)

Thanks again for the opportunity, and I hope to write more for this series.

-Saikage

#inuyasha #mirsan #mirsan day #dayofmirsan2021 #Miroku #Sango

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years ago

Text

The alluring charm of Henry Cavill - Chapter 10

Summary: After the livestream, Henry is trying to move on from this. However, that is harder than it seems.

Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park (ofc)

Wordcount: 4.4k

Warnings: None

A/N: The formatting of this chapter is a bit different than usual, but I felt this would be the best way to describe Henry’s feelings.

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

1 hour after the livestream

Henry fucked up. Henry truly fucked up. After he watched Adelaide step into that cab, the tears so evident in her eyes, he pushed all the cameramen out of his sight and didn’t want the other contestants to ask him any questions about this.

And because Henry obviously has a mature and adult way of dealing with his emotions, he locks himself up in the bedroom. The same bedroom where he made all those memories with Adelaide. He remembers her sleeping as soon as she would hit the mattress. Her fingers grazing over his arm. Her sleeping body securely in his arms, her head on his chest and the soft good morning kisses when they slept in the tent during their last challenge.

He takes ahold of the pillow Adelaide slept on and as he sits on the bed, he brings it to his face. He pushes his nose into the fabric, as he can still smell the hints of her perfume, her skincare products and her shampoo.

Tears of frustration burn in his eyes, as he continues to remember the hurt in Adelaide’s eyes just now. All because of him.

He fucking hates himself.

Yes, he cannot and will not deny the fact he did talk poorly about her, however he regrets every syllable of it. He knows better now, so much better. Adelaide Park is amazing and has so much to offer. They were planing on getting to know each other even better after this stupid program had ended.

But that is all over now and it’s all is fault.

He hates this show, every single producer and editor who works here and his agency. Especially his agency. He wants to sue every single one of them who were involved in making that heinous compilation, the one blew everything out of proportion, but he needs to think this over, before he makes any rash decisions. Decisions that might only do more damage than any good.

Henry stands up from the bed, to grab his suitcase and starts packing. He needs to leave this place, go back to England, to his own place and think about this.

Adelaide specifically asked not to mention her or talk to her and he should honor her wishes. That is the least he can do after everything that happened.

However, he should release a statement of his own. He should leave his agency. He should reach out to her in another way than directly contacting her. He needs to know whether or not she is okay.

Well, she might not be okay, but he needs to know how she feels. That she knows he is sorry, because he is sorry.

Very sorry.

Fuck, he is such a loser for letting her go like this. Adelaide was totally right. He should’ve been honest with her. Told her about his earlier thoughts regarding her and why he participated in the first place, but also specifically tell her how he changed his mind.

About her, about them, about him playing James Bond.

Henry grabs his phone, so he can check when the first flight back to England is, but he stops mid unlocking his phone and stares at his background. A few days ago, he changed his wallpaper in a picture of the both of them, sitting on the couch. Adelaide’s arms wrapped around his neck, her cheek pressed against his and her eyes shine with happiness.

Henry growls out of frustration. ‘Fuck,’ he hisses between clenched jaws. He already misses her, only sixty minutes after the live stream. He needs to think about this, because he will do anything to clear her reputation, to make it up to her.

Simply because he cares about her and only her.

His Adelaide Park.

◎ ◎ ◎

1 day after the livestream

‘Pick up, pick up, pick up,’ Henry mutters impatiently when he has his phone pressed against his ear. He is back home, as he wanders through his house. He really needs her to pick up. He needs to talk to her.

‘Henry,’ he hears Angela say in a flat tone when she finally picks up. Okay, she is mad and rightly so. ‘How are you?’

‘Not good,’ he answers in all honesty, because lying to Angela Bassett is only asking for trouble really. ‘Please, don’t spare me. I know you saw the livestream, I know you think I fucked up.’

She scoffs. ‘Well, in that case: you truly messed this up. I can’t believe you did this, Henry. Adelaide Park has been nothing but an angel to you and I honestly thought you liked her.’

‘I do like her,’ he says in a defensive and louder tone.

She is not impressed with his tone. ‘And yet you still broke her heart. What a way to show her you care.’

He doesn’t need to get defensive. This is all his own fault and he deserves this. ‘I know. I’m a fucking idiot.’

‘That’s an understatement,’ she mumbles. ‘Tell me, what do you want from me?’

Henry lets out a deep sigh. ‘I don’t want to call her, because she told me not to talk to her. I want to respect that and I need to respect that, but I have to let her know at least one more time how sorry I am. I regret the words, I regret not being honest to her. I’ll accept whatever answer I get, but I need her to know how sorry I am.’

Angela doesn’t say anything and Henry fears he overstepped. Overstepped a lot.

‘Okay,’ she says, ‘I’ can do that. However, after this, you really need to reflect on this situation. You have broken her heart and ruined it for yourself. Get away from that abysmal agency you’re under contract with and share a statement on every social media platform you have.’

‘I’m already drafting something and I really want to leave that agency, I can tell you that.’

‘Good, because you need to clear your name. I don’t know if that is going to work, but you need to at least try.’

‘I know. Thanks Angela. I owe you.’

‘You sure do,’ she says and hangs up shortly afterwards.

Henry takes a seat on the stool at the bar and looks at the piece of paper on the counter, filled with scribbles and notes. He should make a neutral statement, where his sorry and remorse clearly comes through. He has seen the reactions on her pictures. Fans constantly tag him underneath her pictures and her underneath his and he sincerely hopes they stop doing that.

She doesn’t deserve this at all. She doesn’t need to be reminded of his actions on every social media platform she’s on.

He continues to scribble down words and eventual sentences he can use in his statement. Angela is right: he should do this.

He doesn’t know how long he is bend over the notebook, as he continues to write down a statement that actually satisfies him, but he gets pulled out of his thoughts when he sees the screenshot Angela has send to him.

And it’s what he expected. Adelaide doesn’t accept his apology (which he understands) and she tells Angela she doesn’t want to talk to him ever again, let alone see him. He opens up her Instagram, stares at her beautiful face. He misses her, but this is all his fault.

And Henry should live with that.

◎ ◎ ◎

2 weeks after the livestream

Henry stares at the screen on his laptop, as he checks out the announcement for the newest movie starring Adelaide and David Castañeda. He keeps wondering what would’ve happened if he actually had auditioned for it.

Wondering is all he does nowadays. Wondering how his life would look like now if he has just been honest with Adelaide. Wondering about them together, if the livestream went well, instead of exploded in the way it did.

He “broke up” with his agency and is currently looking at others, hoping to find himself a new and suitable one. One that wouldn’t do something like this. He always had a little bit of issues with the previous agency, but they offered him pretty decent jobs and he figured that was the most important thing. He never realized how much they interfered in his own personal life.

Henry closes his laptop. He barely left the house after he got back from Italy, except to do some groceries, so he wouldn’t starve to death. He is barely on his phone, just to let Angela, his family and friends know he is sort of doing okay. However he does turn down every invitation to hang out, simply because he can’t face anyone right now. He can barely face himself.

While he continues to attend his own pity party, he has checked what Adelaide has been doing and from the looks of it, she is doing great. She is absolutely glowing and obviously dealing much better with this than he is. She has been putting on a brave face for years now, so dealing with this seems like a piece of cake to her.

At least, that’s what it looks like to the public. During Tommy Hilfiger collaboration, she had this calm glow over her and the reactions underneath the pictures told her so as well.

Later the newest movie announcement with her, David, Reese Witherspoon and Paul Rudd was made. After that announcement, she has been pretty active on Instagram again and he has seen the pictures pop up at his explore page. He resists the urge to check her stories, but decides it would be for the best he doesn’t do that, simply because he feels like he shouldn’t intrude like that.

Fuck, he wishes he would feel better, but he doesn’t. Deep down he feels like he should forgive himself and at least try and move on, but he can’t seem to find the strength to forgive himself for his actions.

His fans reacted well to his statement and lots of people said reality tv can make everything look worse than it actually is. While it was definitely made worse than it actually was, he still feels bad and realizes he shouldn’t be as easily forgiven as he is now.

Henry is still thinking about suing the program, but he decided to just drop it. He doesn’t even have the energy to think about a lawsuit, let alone actually do it.

There is one thing to be happy and grateful about: Adelaide seems to do okay and for now, that is all that actually matters to him.

◎ ◎ ◎

1 month after the livestream

The 8seconds event Adelaide attended for her collaboration with them, might’ve been the worst things that happened to either of them since the livestream. Henry did look up the event, because he just wants to continue to see how she is doing. He saw the moment the journalists could ask questions and especially the second one journalist asked if Adelaide had spoken to Henry after the statement and what she thought of it. Her face never showed any emotions and she simply thanked everyone for their time and walked off.

Almost as if it was a diversion planned beforehand, David Castañeda posted a picture on his Instagram of her and the attention was immediately shifted away of the awkward matter. People are now speculating whether or not the two of them are dating and while Henry thinks that is not the case, you simply never know. The public at least is already shipping them and Henry would lie if he didn’t think the two of them would be a great match.

Henry finally managed to drag himself out of his own house and he is now at his parents. He did ask them if they couldn’t ask about Adelaide, since he would like to forget about the situation and so far, they thankfully honored his wishes.

She continues to feed him with extra little cupcakes and cookies and normally he would politely decline, but now he eats like he hasn’t eaten for days. He goes to the gym a whole lot nowadays, to get his mind of the whole Adelaide situation, so he doesn’t really care.

‘Okay, dear, I know you are still sad, but it has been four weeks,’ his mom says, as she places her hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. So much for not mentioning Adelaide. ‘You released the statement, you let go of your old management and you are keeping your side of the bargain. You are not texting her, you are not mentioning her. Yes, you hurt her, but you have learned from this.’

‘I know, I know.’ He rubs his face and looks up at his mom. ‘I just can’t believe I did this.’

‘Me neither,’ his dad mumbles. ‘I thought we taught you better than that.’

This hurts, but Henry deserves this. ‘You did.’

His dad sits up straight on the couch and stares at him, without even saying anything to him. No matter how old Henry is, that still makes him nervous. ‘You better have learned from this, Henry, because I’m rather disappointed in you.’

◎ ◎ ◎

2 months after the livestream

◎ ◎ ◎

5 months after the livestream

Henry managed to get his life kinda back to how it was pre-Adelaide. He has found himself a new agency and a wonderful agent, Julia, who managed to get him a great new role in a sci-fi movie. The filming process went great and he loved to be on set again.

Right now he is on his first press tour for the movie he did before the Celebrity Project ‘The Royal Heist’ with Anne Hathaway as his co-star.

Of course he still thinks about Adelaide, he thinks about her quite often as a matter of fact. He watches her interviews, he sometimes sees a picture of her on his Instagram explore page. Sometimes it’s a picture she posted herself, sometimes it’s a picture posted by David or someone else from the crew or a fan account.

It’s hard sometimes, not to think about her. Occasionally he wakes up un the middle of the night, thinking about her and seeing her laugh flash in front of his eyes. He realizes that of course he misses her, but it’s for the best they both move on without one another. From the looks of it, she is absolutely glowing and for that he is forever grateful. He feared she would blame herself, maybe completely hide herself, but she doesn’t. She has flourished and is not afraid to show it to the entire world. During her interviews she seems relaxed and makes a joke every now and then.

Henry sits next to Anne, as they are about to answer some questions about the new movie. The two of them joke around a bit, as Anne just recently discovered the wonders of Snapchat filters. It’s nice to have fun and not feel guilty as he did before. When he witnessed Adelaide having fun and being happy again, he felt it was okay for him to do so as well.

The questions about the movie are pretty basic, but after a while the interviewer seems less nervous than when he started. However, him feeling more confident, might have given him the impression he can actually ask questions he really shouldn’t be asking.

‘After the Celebrity Project, have you and Adelaide Park cleared the air with one another?’

Henry clenches his jaw. He wants to say a lot to this man. How he should mind his own fucking business, how Henry is going to rearrange his face for asking such thing, but then he remembers what Adelaide wanted from him.

He managed to do so for five months and he will not quit. Not now. ‘I thought my agent told you before hand I will not answer any Celebrity Project related questions.’

The interviewer doesn’t seem to care and continues to ask questions about how Adelaide was in real life, what they did when the camera’s were off and what he would do to make it up to the actress.

While he is nearly exploding with rage and anger, Anne manages to divert the conversation and when the end is near, Henry doesn’t thank the interviewer. He simply gets up to go outside for a fresh breath of air. The second he is outside, he takes a deep breath. Turned out he maybe wasn’t over Adelaide as much as he thought he was.

Henry grabs his phone and does something he hasn’t done for a while now. He goes to her account and checks the pictures. He sees the amount of David Castañeda related posts, so he goes to the actor’s page, where he sees excess of Adelaide pictures. She looks radiant and beautiful.

‘You okay?’ Anne asks, as she walks out of the building to stand next to him.

‘Yeah, I’m okay,’ he says, closing off Instagram and pushing his phone back into his pocket. ‘I made a promise and I wanted to keep that one.’

‘You did,’ she says with a smile. ‘Really, don’t let that idiot get to you. Weirdly enough, this is his job and you did well. As a thank you for diffusing the situation, you can buy me a coffee later today. Now, let’s go back inside. I’m wearing a flimsy bra and I don’t want the entire world to know I’m freezing.’

◎ ◎ ◎

8 months after the livestream

It has been eight whole months after the livestream and Henry finally thinks he is actually over the entire situation. The Royal Heist is nominated for an award, just like he was for his role in the movie. The rude interviewer three months ago was the last one to bring up Adelaide and thankfully he was, because Henry might’ve thrown some punches if someone asked about it.

He runs his hand over his black velvet jacket, before Anne stands next to him and says: ‘Maybe you should frown a little less.’

‘I’m not frowning,’ he says with a smile. ‘Just concentrated.’

‘Thus frowning.’

The two of them are guided by some very nervous assistants, who are managing the photo opts. And while he is slightly distracted by Anne and her embarrassing stories about other red carpets events, the commands of the paparazzi are becoming louder and louder and it gains his attention.

‘Adelaide, look over here! You look beautiful!’ Henry stretches out his neck and sees Adelaide Park, looking beautiful as ever.

The white dress she wears hugs her figure nicely and the matching heels create the illusion her legs are endless. Her long blonde hair, probably lengthened by extensions, is pulled together in a fancy ponytail.

Henry thought he was doing pretty well over the past months, thinking he was over her, but seeing her in real life… It makes him realize him being over her was all pretend. He can’t forget her.

Adelaide Park is the love of his life.

Fuck, what a moment to come to that realization.

He watches closely as David Castañeda stands next to her as he joins her. He plays her love interest in the movie, the man that has been all over her Instagram and the same man who she has done multiple interviews with. David looks like a nice guy, who seems a great friend to Adelaide.

David places his hand on her waist and together they pose for the camera. It’s weird seeing her like this. This at ease with someone else. When Henry met her, she was tense with stress, but that all disappeared. Of course he kept track of her, mostly to see how she was doing.

And she was blossoming and still is.

Henry watched their new movie, ‘Warm Up Period’ and it was an amazing romantic comedy, one of the best he has ever seen. Adelaide sure has a way of acting in these types of movies. It was all part of the job of course, he knows that, but he couldn’t push away those jealous thoughts he experienced when he watched their more intimate scenes. It’s all pretend—he knows that—but he could feel their connection through the screen. The way David touched her bare back, how the camera zoomed in on the goosebumps on her skin, the kisses they shared.

It was enough to make him green with jealousy.

‘You haven’t heard one single bit of what I was telling,’ Anne Hathaway concludes and he quickly looks at her. ‘You’re still not over her, aren’t you?’

He doesn’t know what to say. ‘I’m just happy to see she’s doing good,’ he eventually says, while still looking at her. Maybe she senses that someone is gawking at her, because she looks to the side, but he quickly looks away.

That’s what she wanted from him. If he saw her before she saw him, he should walk away.

◎ ◎ ◎

Afterparties aren’t really Henry’s thing, but he feels obligated to stay, especially after he won ‘Best Actor’. Other actors congratulate him as he makes his way through the hall and he puts on a brave face, but in all honesty: he is feeling miserable.

From a distance, he sees Adelaide standing all by herself. He could simply do it, he thinks to himself. He could walk up to her and talk to her. If she doesn’t want him there, he’ll understand and walk away.

Reluctantly, he walks up to her and when he is close enough for her to hear him, he takes a deep breath. He really is going to do this… ‘Hi Adelaide,’ he gently says to her.

She looks up, her eyes enlarging when she realizes it’s him. From up close she is even more beautiful. She looks breathtakingly gorgeous with blonde hair, but he misses the way her light brown hair made her look. It reminds him of a time where things were simpler and better.

Adelaide blinks a few times and says: ‘Hi,’ in a soft tone.

He missed hearing her voice. ‘If you don’t want to talk to me, just say so. I was just wondering how you’ve been.’

She clears her throat, as she studies his face. ‘I’m good,’ she answers and he lets out a sigh of relief. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m okay,’ he says, but his voice is telling otherwise. He is not okay, he is an utter mess. He just became a bit better at hiding it over the past couple of month.

She must sense that too, because she frowns for a split second. ‘Congratulations,’ she tells him and it sounds sincere. Of course it sounds sincere, the words come from Adelaide herself, the embodiment of sincerity. ‘The movie was really good and you deserved to win best actor. You were great.’

‘Thank you,’ he says. Henry can’t believe he used to be so comfortable around her and now he’s getting heart palpitations simply by looking at her. ‘You look amazing, Adelaide.’

She nods. ‘Thank you.’ She takes a sip of her champagne and purses her lips for a brief moment, probably thinking about what she can say. ‘I heard you turned down James Bond.’

Henry nods. ‘Yes, I did. I didn’t want to be part of that franchise.’

‘Was it because of me?’ she asks.

He sighs. ‘Well, I think you were part of my decision. I think I should thank you.’

Adelaide simply nods. ‘Right.’

Henry knows he shouldn’t do it, but he can’t stop himself. ‘Adelaide, I’m so terribly sorry for everything I did. I know I hurt you and it pains me every single day to know I betrayed your trust. Trust I didn’t even deserve in the first place.’

She simply shakes her head. ‘Please don’t do this, Henry. It’s all okay.’

‘No, it’s not okay,’ he tells her, taking a step closer to her, while still maintaining an appropriate distance from her. She doesn’t step back and from the looks of it, she actually is open to what he has to say to her, so he better make it worth while. ‘You had every right to be as mad as you were and I totally understand. I was just hoping that maybe we can talk about it, clear the air, so we can be in the same room together.’

Adelaide blinks her eyes a few times. ‘Really?’

‘Really,’ he confirms. ‘And if you don’t want to, I respect that. Just wanted to at least have suggested the idea to you.’

She nods. ‘Okay, just not here.’

‘Of course not,’ he quickly says. ‘How about we do coffee tomorrow? I know a nice place around here. They have nice cappuccino’s. If you want to of course. Maybe you want to meet up somewhere else, that’s fine with me.’

She shakes her head. ‘Coffee tomorrow is good,’ she says. Her eyes are brighter than the first few moments he started to talk to her. That’s a good sign, right?

Henry nods, as he counts his blessings, thankful that she actually agrees to this idea. ‘Good, good.’

Her co-star David walks over to the two of them and stands next to Adelaide. ‘Hi,’ he says when his eyes fall on Henry, holding out his hand. ‘Congratulations, man. I loved the movie and you were great. Very well deserved.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ he says with a smile, because David’s friendliness is contagious.

David places his hand on Adelaide waist. ‘Ready to go? Our limo is ready.’

Adelaide tears her gaze away from Henry and meets David’s eyes. She smiles at her co-star, in a way only she can do. This shouldn’t make him jealous, not after all these months they spend apart.

But seeing her this close to someone other than him, confirms what he thought earlier that night.

He missed her more than he originally figured.

‘I am,’ she tells David. ‘Henry, I’ll see you tomorrow then. You still have my number?’

As if he would erase her number. Ever. ‘I do.’

‘Text me a time and address and I’ll be there.’ She sends him a soft smile, before turning around. She walks off to the exit with David, his hand still in the dip her waist.

Henry stares after the pair, as his blood boils with rage and jealousy.

But he shouldn’t be. He can’t be.

Besides, the most important thing is: he is going to talk with Adelaide Park, face to face. He quickly looks over the crowd, to see if he can find Anne, so he can say his goodbye and go to his hotelroom to prepare, because this might be his only chance to make things right between him and Adelaide.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x adelaide park #adelaide park #asian ofc #the alluring charm of henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #Henry cavill fanfic

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byunbaekby · 4 years ago

Text

title — a chaotic christmas pairing — doyoung x male reader genres — angst, fluff, soulmate au, christmas! warnings — language word count — 3.5k summary — you’ve finally come to terms with the fact that you have a crush on your friend, doyoung. but something throws a wrench in your plans, and all of a sudden nothing is going right anymore. additional — this is a very late and very belated fic release gift for my favorite doyoung simp @puppywritings. it’s me! i’m your secret santa and i come bearing gifts of soulmate!doyoung. when i saw that i had gotten you, i was so excited to write for you and our favorite boy! i’m sorry that i released this so late, but it’s here now. you requested a mix of angst and fluff, plus chaos and “everything would be solved if they just talked to each other.” hope you like it! may 2021 bring blessings and more doyoung content for you, love.

“So, you like Doyoung.”

Ten’s bold statement causes you to choke, spitting out the hot cocoa you’re currently consuming. Heat covers your throat, but your coughing interrupts the sweetness of the chocolate. In your fit of coughs, Ten doesn’t even laugh.

When you finally come to, you sputter. “What—What makes you say that?” Now, your friend laughs, but it’s a dry chuckle that leaves his lips as if he’s laughing at you. “I don’t—” You cough again. “—like Doyoung. I mean, he’s nice, and tall, and funny—especially when he’s making fun of you, but, no! Well, I like him as a friend, I mean.”

The look on your friend’s face is not at all convinced. “Sure…”

You lean forward. Clearly your act is done and the curtains are closed. Now, your voice suddenly dips lower into a whisper, as if anyone in the mall food court would be listening to you. “How did you know?”

Ten scoffs. “Sweetheart, everyone knows. Everyone except you and Doyoung, apparently.” A groan leaves your lips as you sit back in the seat, placing your cup of hot cocoa onto the table with a disgruntled expression. “Why don’t you tell him?”

“We’re not soulmates, and everyone deserves to be with their soulmate,” you answer, eyes sad as you play with your cup mindlessly. Ten shoots you a pointed look before saying, “Not everyone has to be with their soulmate, Y/N. You know that.”

It’s true. Everyone is born with a soulmate, whom they must find because they share a tattoo somewhere on their body. Though the world loves to push soulmates together, it’s become commonplace for people not to pursue their relationships with the ones the universe had deemed them perfect for. Sometimes those relationships don’t work out, or people are unhappy with who they have. In any case, it’s fairly common for people to choose their own relationships. But, that’s not the case with your friend group. Though it had been just you, Doyoung, Ten, and Kun since the beginning of university, the group had been expanded when the latter two introduced their soulmates into the friend group.

“Easy for you to say, you have Johnny,” you scoff, crossing your arms across your chest. “And Kun has Seunghee. You guys are the perfect couples, and I don’t want to mess up what Doyoung and I have because we tried to date but weren’t soulmates.” Your voice is sullen as you shake your head, as though the action could dispel any lingering thoughts and romantic feelings you had for your friend Doyoung.

“Listen,” says Ten, voice suddenly serious. “He likes you too.”

“Don’t give me false hope.”

“I’m not!”

The look you give him is enough to make him do a double take. “Did you ask him, or hear it directly from him?”

“... No.”

His answer brings about a roll of your eyes. “Then you don’t know that he likes me back.”

“It’s obvious! Just like how your feelings are obvious,” he exclaims, downing the rest of his coffee down his throat (along with a shake of your head). When you ask why he cares so much, he sighs. “Because it’s so goddamn frustrating! You guys have known each other for years now, and you’ve been tiptoeing around each other for so long, it’s so annoying.” His hand comes out to rub his forehead, as if your mutual (?) pining with Doyoung could bring about physical pain.

It’s true that you’ve hidden your feelings for Doyoung for a while now… When the four of you met at your university’s freshman orientation, you and Doyoung had instantly clicked. Of course, you were all close but it seemed that you and Doyoung always had an especially close bond. You do like him; he’s intelligent and well-spoken (and perhaps a little blunt), but his gummy smile makes your heart melt every time. You just hadn’t realized that it had been so deathly obvious to your other friends. Hopefully… Doyoung hadn’t caught on either.

Biting down on your lip, you look up from where you had been staring at the ground in thought and back to Ten across the table. “You really think he likes me?”

“I’m about 89.45% sure. I should talk to him about it.”

“No!” You suddenly exclaim, not realizing how loud your voice rose in the public food court, attracting a few eyes from nearby shoppers. “Wait—maybe… maybe you should. You can talk to him and then tell me what he says. But don’t make it obvious! Don’t tell him we talked about him.”

Ten rolls his eyes at your dramatic worry. “I’m not completely conspicuous like you are.” Then he stands, tossing his empty Starbucks paper cup into the nearby trash can. “Now hurry up, I have to get Johnny’s gift before they run out of maid’s outfits.”

Your hand meets your forehead in a facepalm.

It seems like nowadays Ten’s mission is to annoy Doyoung to the max.

“Is Johnny busy or something?” asks Doyoung through gritted teeth as Ten spins around in his desk chair. The former had been trying to study when the Thai man paid him a visit at his apartment to disturb his peace. Ten simply continues to spin in perpetual circles on Doyoung’s chair, seemingly not a care in the world.

“No,” replies Ten. “I just wanted to hang out with you, bro.”

Doyoung grimaces at his friend. “Please don’t call me that.”

“I could call you mom like I call Kun.”

“No thanks,” responds the dark haired male with a quiet chuckle as he grabs a packet of ramen from the pack atop his fridge. As Doyoung begins to pour some water into the pot on the stove, Ten suddenly stops spinning and he’s seemingly not dizzy at all, seeing as he walks forward to lean on the kitchen counter.

“So, how are you, buddy?” He suddenly asks, trying to remain casual but failing poorly. Ten’s never been the type for small talk.

Doyoung knows this, so he cocks an eyebrow over his steaming pot of ramen. “I’m doing just fine, buddy.” Ten nods in understanding, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. At this point, Doyoung has given him a clearly confused expression. “Okay, what do you want? You only show up unannounced to steal my food or complain, and you’re doing neither.”

The man in question fakes an overly dramatic gasp, hand on his chest. “How could you accuse me of something like that? I just want to catch up with my friend.”

Pouring his ramen into a bowl Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Are you here to gossip then?”

“Ask me how I am first.”

A dry laugh leaves Doyoung’s lips before he capitulates. “Fine. How are you?”

“I’m doing great, thank you for asking. You know why? Because I found out some spicy information.”

“Do share,” drawls Doyoung as he blows his ramen, though he seems not at all interested. Oh, he’ll be interested after this, thinks Ten mischievously.

“I found out that Y/N has a crush on someone.”

A sputter is heard from Doyoung’s end as he chokes on the few ramen pieces he had been slurping during his friend’s reveal. Wow, thinks Ten. The two of you are more alike than you think. After he clears his throat, he speaks, “Y/N has a crush on someone.” Ten nods proudly. Doyoung blinks, running a hand through his dark locks. “Okay, um… that’s good for him. Why are you telling me this though?”

The man in question shrugs, a mischievous grin on his lips. This is exactly how he wanted it to go. “Just thought I’d let you know. So you can prepare for having another person join the group.”

“Oh, well… I guess that leaves me as the only single person in the group, then,” says Doyoung, voice softened as he looks down at his noodles.

“Yep,” responds Ten with a tone much too cheerful for his friend’s previous tone, popping the ‘p.’ If he hadn’t been so occupied with staring thoughtfully into his food Doyoung would have noticed. Ten’s plan is working just as desired.

“Oh,” Doyoung suddenly speaks up. “I forgot to tell you. I found my soulmate.”

Oh, shit.

Ten blinks. “W-What? You met your soulmate?”

Now Doyoung rubs his nape, looking a bit sheepish. “I did…” With the slight smile that Doyoung wears on his lips, Ten can see that the man must be enamored by his new soulmate. When had he met them? How had he found out? Did he see their tattoo? Ten is seeing his plan crumbling right before his eyes.

Of all their friends, Doyoung was the most hopeless romantic. He romanticized the idea of finding his soulmate, someone who held half of his soul. He would surely much rather pursue his soulmate, but Ten hadn’t taken that into consideration. After all, he hadn’t expected Doyoung to find his soulmate right as he planned to get his two best friends together!

“Well, that’s… good, isn’t it?”

Still looking down, staring deeply into his bowl of noodles, Doyoung nods. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Oh god, Y/N will be devastated to find out, and it’ll be all his fault.

The look on your face when he tells you is one he’d like to forget. You’ve liked Doyoung for so long, even if you had only come to terms with it a while ago. Ten knows this, and so he feels even worse for being the one to give you hope.

“Y/N, I’m s—”

“Don’t apologize,” you cut him off, wearing a cheery smile on your lips. Even from a mile away, Ten would be able to tell how fake it is. “This is good, right? I told you, he’s supposed to find his soulmate. That’s how the universe works.”

Today instead of the mall, you’re both sitting on the couch in Ten’s apartment and now you hug the couch pillow close to your chest. You look sad, and Ten almost feels pain from how defeated you look. “I’m sorry, because I gave you hope and you told me not to.”

“It’s okay,” you say, suddenly standing from your spot on the couch. Next, you give a dry laugh, but it comes out strained. “Since when did you ever listen to what I said, anyways?”

“Y/N, it’s okay to be upset.”

“I’m not,” you deny, beginning to walk out of the living room. “But I have to go get some more Christmas gifts before the mall closes. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Y/N,” he calls once more. There’s no stopping you, he knows, so he follows you instead. “It’s snowing outside. Let’s go together, at least.”

“No,” you say, giving him a small smile as you slip your shoes on. “You’re one of the people I have to get gifts for. I’ll just take a taxi or something. Bye, Ten. Thanks for… trying, I guess.” And then you leave, and he swears that as you disappear from his home and out onto the snowy cold street, he sees the ghost of pain on your face.

It’s a week of avoiding Doyoung and practically everyone when he finally calls you. Seeing his name light up on your phone makes you bite down on your lip in fear. You don’t know what it is that’s made you ignore him and the rest of your friends for a week, but… you needed time apart.

“Hello?” You ask, trying to keep your voice natural.

“Y/N,” says Doyoung on the line, and you have to physically stop yourself from sighing into his tone. His voice is dark and deep as usual, you’ve missed hearing it. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

He’s always been straight-forward, and you don’t even have time to be surprised that he’s caught you. But, you can’t tell him the truth. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” you lie. “I’ve just been… busy. Christmas shopping and stuff. Plus, it’s really cold outside, I don’t really like going outside.”

There's silence, then Doyoung sighs. “Is everything alright?”

No, not really. “Yeah,” you tell him. “Everything’s fine, I promise.”

“Is it about that person? Ten mentioned that you liked someone, and were considering telling them.” It’s you, you dimwit. You want to tell him that, but you can’t. It’ll only ruin everything he’s supposed to have with his soulmate. “You know, you can always come talk to me about it. I’m not experienced in dating, but I’ll give you all the advice I have.” His words are accompanied by a small laugh.

You can’t help but smile. That’s why you’ve always liked him so much. Despite being blunt and sometimes brutally honest, he is always there for you. “Thanks, Doyoung,” you respond gratefully. “I’ll be in touch, I promise.”

“Okay, good. I miss having you around, anyways. You left me to fifth wheel the couples,” he says, referring to your friends and their significant others.

You laugh, and it’s a happy sound albeit dampened by the reminder that you can’t like him anymore the way you do right now. “Sorry about that. I’ll be around soon.”

“Okay. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah.”

Then he hangs up, and when he does, he’s left staring at Kun’s face from across the table. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits to his friend.

“What the hell did you do, Ten?” Kun says as he bursts into Ten’s apartment, having just finished meeting Doyoung at the coffee shop. The man in question is sitting on his couch watching a movie when he looks up at the sudden appearance of his friend. “How can you be sitting on the couch when your friends’ friendships are falling apart?”

Ten’s eyes widen. “You mean Doyoung and Y/N?” The Thai man suddenly jumps up to his feet, knocking over his bowl of popcorn. “I don’t know what I did! I was just trying to get them together and then everything went to shit!”

He runs his hands through his hair, making it run crazy. Even without the appearance of Kun to scold him, he’s clearly been torn up by the situation as well.

“Just… tell me what you did,” says Kun calmly, for he had always been the calm and level-headed mediator.

“Okay.” Ten takes a deep breath, recalling all of the events of the past few weeks. “Y/N told me that he liked Doyoung.” At Kun’s pointed look he retracts his words. “Okay, I tricked him into confessing it to me, but that’s beside the point! Then, he asked me to talk to Doyoung about it and find out if Doyoung liked him too. But then Doyoung told me that he found his soulmate! And when I told Y/N he got really sad and upset about it, and now he’s been ignoring me for a week!”

“Y/N is Doyoung’s soulmate, you daft twit!”

Ten stops in his tracks, eyes wide. “Wait—what did you just say?”

“I just met with Doyoung, and he told me that Y/N is his soulmate. He said he didn’t tell anyone because you told him that Y/N likes someone else, when we all know that Y/N has been heart-eyes for Doyoung since the beginning of time!” Kun exclaims at him, rubbing the space between his eyes where a headache has formed when he finishes.

Ten simply stands there in the mess of popcorn and couch pillows, blinking with his crazed hair. “Oh god, I’ve created a shit show.”

“Everything would be solved if they just talked to each other,” whines Kun as he collapses onto the couch. Ten follows beside him, simply staring into the space before sighing. “We have to fix this.”

Then suddenly, as though possessed by a strange energy, Ten asks, “Why did Doyoung tell you and not me?”

“He was asking me for advice. And obviously he wouldn’t tell you, look at the mess you made!”

Your fingers are freezing as you type out a text to Kun on your phone. He had asked you to meet up with him at the cafe you often frequented in the town square to catch up over hot chocolate, and despite the fact that you had been ignoring your friends for quite a while, you figured… you’ll have to face them eventually. The only problem is… he’s late.

The snow crackles beneath your shoes as you rock back and forth on the balls of your feet outside the cafe. Kun isn’t one to be late, always favoring punctuality, so you’re perplexed. But it’s only his first time being late, so you’ll go easy on him.

“God,” you sigh. Tapping your hands on your cheeks, where the cold has begun to steal your sensation of feeling from them, you look around again. “Where is he?”

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

You turn to find the owner of the voice, but it’s not Kun. A breath leaves your lips, seen in the air. “Doyoung? What are you doing here?”

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says, straight-forward as always. Though you haven’t seen him in a short while, he still takes your breath away upon first glance. He’s dressed today in a black coat atop a black turtleneck, and you see even the bulb of his nose has become reddened from the cold. Now there’s really no avoiding the situation. “I figured you wouldn’t respond if I asked, so I had Kun set it up.”

He’s caught you in the act. “I…” You don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” He asks, hands tucked into his pockets. The way his eyebrows furrow into his forehead make him look even more hurt beyond understanding, and you feel horrible.

You can’t tell him… It will ruin everything he’s supposed to have with his soulmate. You’re sure by now, that he must have already had time to spend in the presence of his soulmate, learning their ins and outs to savor for the rest of their lives together. But even against your common sense… it comes out.

“I like you.”

Doyoung’s lips fall open just the slightest, but you continue. “I like you, God, I like you so much. But Ten told me that you found your soulmate, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. I know that soulmates are just stupid excuses for the universe’s matchmaking, but even so, you should be with your soulmate… Doyoung, I like you so much, and knowing that I couldn’t have you just hurt even more. I know, it was selfish of me to ignore you but I just… can’t look at you and accept that.” You sigh. “It doesn’t matter anyways. I… I’m sorry.”

You begin to turn away, figuring you’ve all but ruined your friendship with your favorite person, but a force tugging on your hand causes you to stop. Doyoung has wrapped his nimble fingers around the circumference of your wrist, and he speaks firmly:

“You are my soulmate.”

You stop in your tracks. Eyes wide, you turn back to him. “What did you just say?”

The eyes that he looks at you with are warm, like a blazing crimson fire in the cold night of winter. “You’re my soulmate. And if you were hurt thinking I found my soulmate, imagine how I felt being ignored by my soulmate.”

“How do you know?” You ask. You’ve been friends with Doyoung for years; there’s no way this information of him being your soulmate has evaded you this long. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“Do you remember that night, a few weeks ago? When we got caught in the rain walking back from the library, and ran into my apartment? I gave you a shirt so you could change, and then I saw it.”

Your soulmate tattoo.

“A rabbit, on the side of your torso.”

Your tattoo (which had been the source of your embarrassment for many years) had never been seen by any of your friends before. Now, it’s your time to be surprised, lips falling open. Despite the cold, you feel heat rise in your body and your heartbeat begins to quicken.

“You’re…” You start, but find yourself speechless. He finishes for you, a sweet smile on his lips.

“Your soulmate.” He takes your hand in his. “And you’re mine.”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, free hand coming to meet your forehead in a facepalm. “I’ve been such a shitty person the past few weeks, I’m so sorry. You’re… You’re really my soulmate.”

“Yeah, I am.” He smiles, gums showing proudly as you finally let him in. Now, he holds up a finger. “And I’ll forgive you for ignoring me, on one condition.”

“What is it?”

“Go into this cafe with me, let me buy you hot chocolate, and tell me everything about my soulmate.”

A laugh leaves your lips, delighted and emotional as you nod. “We’ve been friends for years, you already know everything about me.” He begins to pull you by the hand into the cafe, the ringing bell of the door sounding familiar to his laugh.

“Well, tell me again. I’d love to hear it.”

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