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jangofctts · 4 years ago

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Bloodsport (din djarin x fem!reader) (part one)

rated: 18+

word count: 5.4k

warnings: smut, knife kink (no blood is drawn and consent is clearly given), blowjobs, vaginal fingering, din is sorta a virg duDE, alcohol, mentions of violence (reader punches someone in the face kwejrkejh), some gambling (sabaac) also please let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: oOf this is the first fic in sO LONG IM SO SORRY YALL KEHJRKEJH BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOY

It’s been a couple months since Din’s stepped foot on the sandy nightmare of a planet. Went through hell and back and kriff—it feels like a lifetime ago. But the landscape before him hasn’t changed an inch, Mos Eisley same as always—busy with all sorts of scum and villainy he turns a blind eye to.

Din hopes it’s not the only thing that’s stayed the same—selfish as it is. Someone as volatile as you is bound to catalyze and shift, so is the nature of life. A lot can happen in a month or two and it’s ridiculous to think that you would ever push your life to the side and wait for him to return.

Turns out, you are here, still working as the resident mechanic. Though in the same elated breath of hearing that tidbit of news, it’s equally dissatisfying when he somehow misses you completely. You’re off planet, looking for power converters and electrical wiring—back in few days Peli promises. Maybe by the time his wild goose chase is over, back from the butt fuck middle of nowhere, he’ll get to see you—

Nothing goes as planned—naturally. All Din finds is a man playing dress up, an oversized lizard, planetary drama he’s forced to resolve and—to top it all off—an attempted stickup. Maker—he’s not even worried about anything save for the kid and your speeder. The very same one now scattered over the sand in miserable heaps.

At least some of it is salvageable…

By the time Din reaches the outskirts of Mos Eisley, the binary suns are smearing across the horizon like molten puddles of magma. Deep aches amass in his shoulders and back from the weight of the speeder parts, his gear, and the second pair of armor. Maker—it feels like his arms are going to be ripped off.

The baby babbles something incomprehensible.

“Almost there, kid,” Din responds, sparing a quick glance down the baby. “How does soup sound?”

Instead of trudging back to the hangar, Din wanders to the cantina. Call it a hunch or just you and your aunt’s tendency to lurk around the premises, he’s certain he’s going to find one of you here.

Din is right.

The moment he steps inside, he spots your mess of hair, the low solar lights illuminating the rich colors with a soft orange. The baby coos and blinks up at Din, his tiny clawed finger gesturing in your direction.

Din hums. “Good job—you found her.”

The child’s little teeth peek out, pleased with his discovery. Din steps into the doorway, down the carven stairs and over to your table. A older man—a ship rigger by the looks of his uniform—sits across from you, a game of Sabaac spread across the table between you. You’re winning.

“Hello, Shiny.” You greet, dipping your chin in his direction. “Your armor is looking a tad ripe.”

It’s true. The layer of slime coating his armor had baked and crusted under the suns—probably doesn’t smell too good either…

“I killed a Krayt dragon.” Din states it with a twinge of smug satisfaction despite knowing how little something like that would mean to you. He could conquer three dozen planets and shower you in all the precious metals in the world and you’d still turn your nose up at everything.

“And I curb stomped a centipede today—you aren’t special.” Your eyes never leave the set of worn cards you hold between your fingers, acutely ignoring him like you would an overly enthusiastic puppy. You inhale and scrape your right thumbnail along the edge of the hexagonal cardstock—it’s a subtle tell, one Din would more than likely miss if he were the unlucky bastard brave enough to sit at the other end of the table.

“You playin’ or what?” Your opponent gripes. He scratches his unkempt salt and pepper stubble and quirks a furry brow.

You lift your chin in scorned defiance and lay your hand down—full Sabaac. The man hisses through his crooked, clenched teeth and utters a curse as he shoves his winnings towards your end of the table.

“Peli promised me information.” Din pushes, hearing the kid coo in curiosity as you begin shuffling the cards with practiced flare. “About others like me.”

“Do I look like my aunt to you?” You grumble. It’s the first time your eyes leave the perimeter of the game to look at him. They settle on the kid first with a guarded version of compassion, then leap to the faded green armor clipped to the heavy luggage, and then his visor. Your lip twitches at the green slime still coating the beskar. “I’m assuming my speeder didn’t make it.”

“A technical difficulty.”

You roll your eyes and snort, dealing out the cards then setting the stack in the middle. “Right…”

The background ambiance of the bar and the quiet rasp of cards fill the brief lull in conversation. Any other rational person would take the blaring hint to leave, but Din is just as stubborn as you are.

“I don’t remember where the hangar is,” Din lies, cocking his head to the side in mock innocence, “could you show me?”

The tip of your tongue peaks out of the corner of your mouth. The unconscious tic is not one of irritation—not yet. Though before you’re able to respond, your opponent beats you to it.

“Yeah—I know where it is. It’s between fuck off and take a hike.”

Din turns his head, the cool, even tone of his words sharper than shrapnel as he address the man. “I was speaking to her.”

This is funny to you Din realizes—one of the tiny mysteries of your entirety clicking into the place of the puzzle map he’s conjured for you.

“Well, I don’t have the time of day for cowards who wear shiny buckets over their head.” The man gripes into his drink, dark eyes flicking over to Din as he sizes him up. “What’s a Mandalorian doing out here anyway? Thought your planet exploded or something.”

The man’s ignorance irks him—sure. How could it not? But with years of harsh words and jabs at the foundation of Din’s very being, he’s learned to adapt. It’ll always sting no matter how many layers of beskar he wears but you on the other hand…

Your eyes spark, molten and bright like the last solar flare on the surface of a decaying star. Each encounter Din’s had with you, he’s bared witness to the deep well of your anger that fuels your being like the auto-mechanical heart of a droid. He’s felt the bite of your rage firsthand, but this anger—this is the tragedy of the delicate mayfly wings trapped between the black teeth of misfortune—the story of the boy who rammed a spear into the flank of an ancient beast that bites before it barks and gnashes its yellowed teeth in warning.

Din’s hand inches towards his blaster. He’s not willing to weigh the safety of the kid against your rash decisions, despite it being on his behalf.

Though, just as quick as it appears, it recedes like the cool drawback of a tumultuous ocean. Din’s arm relaxes at his side as you release a puff of air.

Your scuffed up fingers, stained with years of engine grease, scars and dirt, curl around your half finished drink. You stand, lay your cards face down onto the table and flash the stranger a feral grin.

Without a word, you toss your drink directly into the man’s unsuspecting eyes. In another breath, the pointed edges of your knuckles fly forward and hook beneath the point of his chin with a meaty thunk. The man’s head whips backwards and connects with the gravely wall—

Out like a light.

Jaw clenched tight, you shake out your bleeding knuckles and gather up the strewn credits over the table. You shove them into the pockets of your jacket and side eye Din. “Restitutions for damages,” you mutter.

The other patrons keep their eyes to themselves as the three of you hurry out the door. Only an apathetic glance from the bar tender serves as proof that something did, in fact, occur. No one wants to dirty their nose sniffing about where they shouldn’t be when they have their own business to safeguard.

The crisp night air rustles the stray strands of hair that escape from your ponytail. Ghostly moonlight carves the shape of your cheeks into an almost ethereal sight—one of those deep space creatures with pointy teeth and hellfire for eyes. Stuff of legends you’d never think to look in a dingy bar for.

But he knows—Din knows that cool mask is just a front from what you hide. It is a hungry ghost that hounds your thin stretched shadow—what ifs and the glories of war you never really escaped. You forget that you are flesh and blood and ghosts are only air and echoes, nothing more.

Din is sharp edged steel. A stray fragment of a shattered mirror, the lacerated reflection of a nameless purpose and a faceless existence. He’s torn edges and cracked glass but his heart beats within his chest with the blood of a thousand suns. Two souls under the umbrella of the word damaged but entirely different in nature.

“No one—“ you growl, your voice a steady and lethal timbre that terrifies a part of Din’s unconsciousness, “—speaks that way to my friends.”

Touching.

“Don’t look at me like that, Creature,” you huff, staring down at the child who gurgles in return. “He deserved it—“

The reunion certainly wasn’t the one Din imagined, though it’s a relief to find that there’s no roughened edge like sandpaper over skin wedged between you. Picked up right where you left off—no questions asked and no inglorious retelling of how Din nearly died on the floor of a shitty cantina. There’s not a doubt in his mind that you'd laugh at him for it—it is sorta funny…

The rest of the evening is spent walking back to the hangar, arguing over the fact that yes Din should take the couch instead of that miserable little hovel he calls a bed, and spend the night. He’d have to find some other mechanic to work through the night if he wanted to leave in the morning, because you certainly did not want to volunteer for that. And so—Din reluctantly takes the couch and agrees to let you tackle the monstrosity of fixing up his ship for tomorrow.

He has to admit…the couch is a bit smaller than the length of his body, but it’s comfortable…maybe he’d buy a better blanket while he was here. As a treat.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You purse your lips and whistle. “I swear each time I see it, it gets worse. Y’know, I know a couple guys selling—“

“Can you fix it?”

You fold your arms over your chest and roll your eyes.“Yeah I can fix it, jeez—no need to get your undies in a twist.”

You try not to take offense, because hey—you’re offering him the info on the good deals on new ships (and at this point anything would be better than this old rust bucket). But if Din doesn’t want anything to do with that, then whatever. His loss.

When you wander onto the ship, toolbox in hand, the Mandalorian tags along. Unsure if he doesn’t trust you with his things or just wants to hang out, it blankets the space with an air of uncertainty. Turns out it was neither of those guesses. All he does is throw open his stash of weapons, collect his pile of vibroknives, and set them on a table to polish and sharpen.

Makes sense, you suppose. Everything has to be as shiny as his armor.

You drop to your knees near the closest wiring panel you find. You wrench open the paneling and frown at the disarray of sparking wires and tangled cords. You organized these perfectly last time he was here. “Who the fuck junked up my rigging?”

Mando sits at the little table tucked away in the corner, brooding over his cache of weapons. He shrugs. “Could’ve come loose when I landed.”

You roll your eyes at his half assed excuse and mutter a foul string of curses under your breath that’d make even Peli wince. It’s fine. It’s cool—no biggie. You can sort through this in a couple hours, maybe three.

But of course rarely anything goes as planned. As time ticks away, arms deep in wires older than the kriffing Clone Wars, the distractions begin. The scrape of metal on durasteel makes the hair rise into little pricks all up your arms—you shoot a glare over your shoulder. Din tilts his head, your kneeling self reflecting within the ever dark visor, features scrunched into an obvious tell of annoyance. Huffing, you bury your head back into your task at hand.

The second distraction arrives in the form of a quiet hum of curiosity originating from the Mandalorian. Out of the corner of your eye you see him bring a vibroblade up to his visor, inspecting the notch in the blade that disrupts the electrical current that flows through the weapon. Din then rubs his thumb over the handle of the vibroblade in a slow, sensual circle. You lick your lips and tear your eyes away. That shouldn’t be hot.

You furrow your brows and tear apart another wire, but the metallic tap, tap, tap of Din bouncing the tip of a different blade over the table is bothersome. You swing your head to your left, mouth parting to snap at him, but his hand—sans glove—brings you to a halting stop.

It’s alluring, the way his long, weathered fingers twirl the knife with practiced ease—like silk through water and followed by the low hum of electricity meant to slice through flesh. Din tosses it in the air, watching it spin three rotations then catches it by the handle. Your lips purse when his visor meets your eyes. He spins it between his fingers.

“Am I bothering you?”

Fucker.

You scowl. “It’s fine.”

The soft rasp of his thumb sliding along the flat of the blade entices the eye and damnit—he’s doing this on purpose.

“Doesn’t seem fine,” he hums.

“Well, it is.” You retort hotly. You snatch up your pliers and imagine you’re pulling his teeth out in place of the crooked paneling. “I’m currently thriving in my element.”

Din hums, the sound buzzing with grainy distortion. “Do you want a closer look?”

You chew your bottom lip. He’s playing with an open flame and you with volatile jet fuel.

“I don’t know, seems kinda lame from here.” You scoff, busying yourself by pinching and twisting another set of frayed wires between your fingertips. “A toothpick if anything.”

Din snorts behind you. The deadly whisper of beskar against the durasteel tabletop makes the hair on the back of your neck prick into points. You tense as heavy boots shuffle along the floor, the near silent rustle of armor tinkling behind you as Din steps closer. You’re slow to stand, even though the presence of the Mandalorian is no less than overbearing. You wipe your grimy hands onto a spare rag, continuing to face the paneling. You then turn, a coy smile threatening to break across your face.

Stars Din is broad—and close enough you swear you’re able to see the perspiration of your breath fog the beskar plating. Your eyes follow the seams of the cuirass, across the leather bandolier and up to his helmet that’s fixed in an impassive glare of tempered steel. Your back bumps into the wall as Din takes another step forward, boxing you in. To escape you’d need to duck under his arm and yet…you refuse to move.

Your breath catches as he languidly lifts his hand and taps the flat side of the vibroblade over your collarbone. The sharpened point tickles up the column of your throat, a crackle of nerves and your pounding pulse following in its wake. Din turns the blade to flat edge and pushes into the space right below your jaw—you squirm when he chuckles, the sound low and deep.

“You like this…”

Din grunts as your hand reaches between his legs, squeezing the growing hardness there. “So do you.”

Din circles his hand around your wrist with his free palm. Moons above his hands are warm. He murmurs your name—you shiver. “Tell me you want this—want me.”

A blush, hotter than the surface of Tatooine in the midday sun, rushes up your neck and pools into the apples of your cheeks. Maker you want him. With a shuddering sigh you nod—braving the scathing shrapnel of vulnerability. “I need you, Din—please.”

A low chuckle rumbles through Din’s chest. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before.”

Din drops his hold on your wrist as you roll your eyes. “Shut up, Bucket Head.”

The Mandalorian snorts and dips his head—gesturing towards the blade still lightly pressed against the base of your throat. “This ok too, Skitter?”

You flash him a wolfish grin. “Gonna fuck me with it?”

Din swears under his breath, crowding his body closer to yours. You hear his strained sigh as he dips his head closer, the beskar a chilly whisper against your cheek. “You’re depraved…take off your pants.”

You smirk, tear off your belt and shimmy out of your pants and underwear, bottom half now bare. His visor dips, entranced.

Your heart leaps into your throat, your pulse roaring in your ears as he settles one of his bare hands over the swell of your hip while the other trails the blunt edge of the handle from your clothes collarbone, and down your belly. From your mid thigh he skates the handle up your bare thigh and then rests it over the crack of your thigh. Heat flushes through your entire body, a stark contrast to the cool metal of the handle. A shiver races down each vertebrae when he drags it over the swell of your cunt and then carefully pressing it against your clit. You gasp and arch into the light touch, your thighs involuntarily jerking as he increases the pressure. It’s cold, rigid and filthy. Who knows where that knife has been—how many lives it’s taken or severed through muscle and skin.

You don’t find it in you to care all that much.

He trades his hold on your hip to slide his hand into your shirt, palming and kneading your breast through your bra as you roll and whine against his fingers. The tight circles he's drawing over your clit burns through your abdomen, drags you closer to the precipice that you’re all ready so close to. Fuck—it’s been so long since you’ve indulged in this sort of pleasure.You whine his name as wicked heat licking up your body and spreading to each limb. You arch into him, the handle of his knife slipping through your folds as arousal drips from your cunt.

Your groan as you tilt your hips into the handle, craving any lick of pleasure he’ll give. Your breath hitches as Din pushes the hilt closer to your throwing entrance, murmuring praise as he sinks the first couple inches inside of you. It’s cold—the knobby feel of the handle not too much thicker than one or two of your fingers combines. You huff and grab at his cowl, the warmth of his hand grazing your pussy each time he rocks his wrist forward.

“You’re so quiet,” Din goads, pulling the handle free from your aching center. “You usually have plenty to say.”

You shoot Din a glare, tongue weighed down by arousal to come up with a god retort. You lean your head back against the wall of the Crest and with a chuckle, Din’s hand leaves your shirt to pull you against his chest, the vocoder rumbling against your ear. The blade clatters to the floor and instead brings his calloused fingertips to your cunt. He softly rolls your swollen clit between his forefinger and thumb, delighting in the way you shake. “Be a good little thing and cum for me.”

Shit, you didn’t think it’d be that easy. Your body seizes as white hot heat ripples through your core. Stars, brighter than a dying sun burst behind your eyes, a high pitched cry filtering past your lips as shake and fall apart in his arms, your cunt clenching tight around the thick fingers he slips inside of you.

You whine as he pulls out, little aftershocks of pleasure wracking through your body in wake of your euphoric high. You groan as he lifts your head and pushes his digits, coated in your juices into your mouth. You lick them clean, tasting the tang of your own arousal and the salt on his skin. “Fuck—that was good.”

You can only imagine that Din rolls his eyes. He takes a step back but before he can escape—

You drop to your knees, a wicked smile curling over your lips. The muscles in his thighs jump as your palms smooth over the outsides of them, then up to his narrow hips, your thumbs lightly massaging the ligaments that protects the fragile joints. Din sucks in a sharp breath when your fingertips hook around his trousers.

“What are you doing?” Din asks, brushing a thumb over your jaw.

You pause and glance up at him. You quirk a brow. “Was gonna suck you off, but if you have something else in mind…“ He hisses and tips his head back, flashing the underside of his chin as your hand leaves his hip to cup the heavy bulge tenting in his trousers.

“Maker—“ He looks off to the side, inhales a choppy breath and then snaps his head back. “You’d…you’d do that?”

You nod and flash him an encouraging half grin. “Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

Din mumbles an incoherent string of words under his breath and shifts his weight onto his right leg. His fingers touch your cheek again then tuck a loose hair behind your ear. “But—“

Moons above this man is straight out of some kind of fucking fairytale—arguing about getting his dick sucked—or not.

Whatever.

“Din…” His breath hitches at the sound of his name. “I’m asking you kindly to fuck my mouth—it’s cool if you don’t wanna, but my knees already kriffing hurt and—“

He cuts you off with a hasty nod. “Yes—stars, please.”

Fuck yeah.

You smile and slide your eyes past Din’s legs to the cargo crate shoved up against the wall. “You should sit—easier that way.”

He nods and shuffles over, lightly perching himself on the edge and ready to flee at the barest hint of well—anything.

Din’s knee jumps when you place your palm over it. You assume his nerves are from the nature of his occupation—trouble always strikes when you least expect it—and what better time would that be when his pants are around his ankles. “Relax—I’m not gonna bite—maybe.”

He makes a wary sound low in his throat as your fingertips hook into the waistband of his trousers and pull. Din lifts up as you tug the fabric further down his legs, tan skin and solid muscle following in its wake. Fuck…

You swallow, mouth feeling quite dry when your eyes drift between his legs. Din is thick, a rosy brown color, flushed at the tip and curling towards his bellybutton. Beads of liquid shine at the tip, dribbling down the underside and pooling into the dark patch of curls at the base. Din’s fingers hook over the side of the crate, squirming under the weight of your stare.

Yeah—that’s gonna leave your jaw aching.

You hear his breath hitch, magnified by the crackle of the vocoder as your lips descend over a silvery scar on the inside of his right knee. You pepper a trail of wet kisses and light nips up his thighs, and by the time you reach the crease of his leg, his hips mindlessly rock with need.

The second the wet warmth of your tongue brushes over the tip of his cock, his hips jolt off the crate, a load groan echoing through the empty ship. It’s like striking a match to an open line of kerosene—devouring and explosive that’ll leave your delicate skin singed. You’re not nervous playing with fire if this barest scrap of wild heat is anything like burning to a crisp.

Emboldened by his initial reaction, you wrap your hand around the base, pulsing and achingly hard beneath the velvety flesh. You flatten your tongue over the tip, lapping up the sticky liquid the slip the head of him into your mouth. His hands fly to your hair, tightening into fists as he throws his head back. The beskar scrapes over the durasteel with a sharp squeal, but you don’t find it in you to care about the abrasive sound—eardrums be damned.

“Fuck—kriffing hell—“ Din snarls, arching his hips to seek more of your warmth. “K-keep going.”

Your own rekindled arousal blazes hot in your core hearing his stuttered pleas. You pull away to catch your breath, feeling almost guilty for doing so at Din’s low whine of protest. He picks his head up, watching as you languidly jerk him off—entranced with the way your hand rolls over the leaking tip, back down to the base, then up again. You could keep him like this—tease until he cracks under the pressure and begs you for whatever iota of pleasure you want to give but—

You’re not that mean.

Wetting your lips with your tongue, you part your mouth and slide nearly half of his length into your mouth. Din mutters something garbled, his hips jolting as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head.

Din shifts, arching his back and stuttering out broken whispers of encouragement. Placing your hand over his thigh, you can feel his pulse thrumming beneath your fingertips, wild and alive—something real beneath all that heavy armor and unforgiving helmet.

“You—you look…” He grunts as you hum around around his cock, swallowing him down further. “Shit—you look so p-perfect like this.”

You groan and squeeze your thighs together, attempting to ignore the gnawing hunger snapping at your insides.

Rolling your tongue along the underside of his shaft, your fingers slide over what your mouth cant reach—squeezing and gently coaxing him towards his high. He seizes up tight—yet, just when you think you’ve got him skidding off that precarious edge—

His hand fists your hair at the base your neck and yanks you off his cock. He huffs, breathy little pants as he folds into himself like he’s been punched in the gut, his head rolling forward onto his shoulder. Din shivers as he scrambles for control, beginning to loose that slippery foothold he’s so intent on maintaining. His cock, flushed an angry red and still slick with your saliva, twitches and throbs for the release so cruelly wrenched away.

You let him catch his breath. The fingers tangled in your hair go lax and drop away to rest at his sides. You swallow, his previous skittishness suddenly clicking into place. “Din, are you…?” A virgin. Your question tapers off, unsure if it’ll embarrass and scare him off.

“No,” he answers—not in a sharp way like you’d hear with a bruised ego—just stating a fact. “Just not—not this. Never had someone—stars—“

Your teeth roll your bottom lip between them, forcing your face to remain neutral despite the stroke of pride blooming singing in your chest. You’re his first—lucky enough to make this the best goddamned oral he’ll ever have. Something he’ll remember for years.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask, praying to the Maker he’ll say no.

He shakes his head, sucking in another calming breath and unfurling himself. His fingers clench into fists then relax, crackling with pent up energy and unsure nerves as to where he should put them. You solve it by threading your fingers through his and placing them around you head.

Your lips quirk. “You’re allowed to cum in mouth—don’t worry about it.”

His cock twitches as a quiet moan fizzles through the modulator. “You su-sure?”

“Oh, yeah.”

With a smile you bring your mouth back to his cock, tongue swiping up the entire length of him. Din groans as the soft warmth of your mouth slips over the flushed tip of cock, his thick length twitching as you hollow out your cheeks and suck. You bob your head as you slowly work him in further because even like this, hardly halfway into your mouth, you feel your lips stretching a bit too much around him. You groan and part your mouth wider, letting him sink into the soft warmth of your throat. Din inhales, the sound shaky and unsure as his hips twitch with a few tentative thrusts.

You take it slow—lifting your mouth nearly all the up to the tip then back down to the base. Din rolls his hips, helping you ease into the gentle pace. Saliva drips down his cock and over your knuckles making an absolute mess you have zero intentions of cleaning up. It’s his ship after all. Din swears as his hips stutter, your hand squeeing around him, trying to push him off that edge he so deserves. Din gasps your name, the pitch of his words knocking up to a lighter, more airy tone, warmer than melted butter.

“Ca-can’t believe, it—ah—it fits.” He groans with astonished reverence. You preen under his praise.

You swallow around him and grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you let him rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans.

You can feel is cock twitching over you tongue—he’s close—and when your eyes roll up to meet the darkened visor, he’s gone. He shouts your name and knots his fists around your hair as he spirals of that edge. You nearly gag from the force of his release hitting the back of your throat—cock throbbing and jerking in your mouth like he’s been denying himself release for months. His moans, fragile and gasping, filling the quiet space as his hips grind his cock deeper down your throat, his hands threaded into your hair acting as an anchor—the sole tether he has to the waking world.

Din’s grip relents as the last few catastrophic waves tear through his body. He doesn’t move his hands, just lets them rest over your skull as his chest heaves for precious air, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. You pull his still twitching cock halfway out, dragging the tip of your tongue below the frenulum while one of your hands circles the base of his length. Maker—he’s still going—

Last little dribbles of his cum spurt onto your tongue and drip over your knuckles still securely wrapped around him. His legs and lower abdomen flex when your hand falls lower to carefully knead at his balls, milking out his pleasure for all its worth. You let his softening cock slip from your mouth when he swears and mumbles your name.

When you rest your back against the wall, he slips himself back into his trousers and joins you. You take a risk and rest your head over the chilly beskar pauldron. You’d never call this love—the word is much too harsh for this delicate string of seconds. Love means giving pieces of yourself to others like martyrs give their hearts to the sky—or risk fragile skin against the rays of an unforgiving sun. Broken ribs and clenched fists, immensity beyond comprehension—

“You should come with us,” he says with a hesitant mumble. Love is formidable—but you know that somehow, here, pressed against Din’s side, that this is right. In a golden way, a honeyed way, a path that tastes of blood, freedom and blaster smoke that will leave your lungs stained with blackened soot. Cowardice has long made a home inside of your soul, and he’s offering you a chance to shake off the layer of frost clinging to your bones and step into the gentle merciful dawn.

“Yeah—alright, Din. I will.”

tags (only tagging some moots for now bc i have no clue what’s going on in this fandom anymore dbdndn): @goldafterglow @jango-fettish @djxrxn @blsmjoon @spookoofins @krissology @steeeeeeeviebb @teaofpeach @comphersjost @gummiishark @delusionsxfgrandeur @pettyprocrastination @huliabitch

#well it aint that good but it honest work wkerkjehr #my writing #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #fanfic #star wars #sw #star wars fanfiction #jangofctts

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pan-fangirl-345 · 4 years ago

Text

Scars and Marks

Summary: You know who your soulmate is. Only problem. He has a girlfriend with the same mark as you. The school festival is going to change all that. Not that you know that just yet.

A/N: I have no idea where I was going with this. Let me know if you want a part two to this. I might write it anyway. How do I title?

TW: Reader is slapped. Narcissistic behavior. Bakugou is a little OOC. Thought of cutting a mark off skin. Implied mental health issues. If I missed something, please let me know.

Here’s a link to the song I used for this. I don’t own the song, the lyrics, or anything about it.

You stared at the mark on your back in the mirror, frowning at it.

The Soul Mark had been black when it had first appeared when you were ten, but now it was almost gray. It was fading, and fast, but that was okay, it meant Bakugou was happier with her.

“Hey! (Y/F/N), we’re gonna play a game of Never Have I Ever, wanna join us?” Denki asked when you walked into the common room, practically vibrating next to Hitoshi.

“Um, sure, why not?” you murmured, sitting next to Eijirou, leaning on him a little.

“Hey! Bakubro! Do you wanna play Never Have I Ever with us?” Eijirou asked, making you jump a little bit. He was so loud!

“Why would I wanna do that?”

“Scared you’re gonna lose?” you teased, making him run red.

“I won’t lose!” he shouted, storming over to the circle, plopping down on your other side.

You continued to lean on Eiji, letting the warmth he radiated keep you from sharing too much.

“Alright, who wants to go first?” Mina asked, devilish grin.

“Guess I will,” you offered. “Never have I ever punched someone in a a public setting.”

Denki, Hitoshi, Eiji, Bakugou, and the other boys all took a shot of sparkling cider, the closest thing they could get to alcohol as second years.

“We’re going clockwise right?” Mina asked.

“That makes the most sense,” Hitoshi muttered.

“I guess Bakugou is next,” Eiji said.

“Never have I ever accidentally used glitter instead of laundry detergent,” he said, glaring at Denki.

“I was high!” he defended, making everyone laugh.

Hitoshi gave his soulmate a small grin, something soft that reminded you of what you didn’t have.

You winced, looking away, burying yourself in Eiji’s side, letting him shield you.

“Never have I ever wanted to drink bleach out of a wine glass,” Uraraka said, glaring at you.

“If this were alcohol, I would think that you would be trying to get me drunk,” you told her, taking a shot.

People gave you some worried looks and you rolled your eyes. “I also wanted to pitch myself in front of a car. Seventh and eighth grade sucked for me. Izuku took a shot too you know!”

“Yeah, but that’s cause Bakugou was an ass when he was younger,” Denki said.

“You say that like he isn’t one now,” you said, wrinkling your nose teasingly.

“What did you say?” Bakugou snarled, turning to you.

“Is she wrong though?” Hitoshi asked, shooting you a look.

“No,” he grumbled, making you chuckle.

“I always knew you liked me Bakugou,” you teased, making him huff.

And so the game went, and it only had to pause once so you could throw Mineta out the window with Hanta’s tape, since he had somehow managed to sneak onto campus.

“I can see why you guys replaced him with me,” Hitoshi muttered when you sat down next to Eiji again.

“Never have I ever gotten rejected by my soulmate,” Kyouka said and you winced, taking a shot. “Oh, (Y/F/N), I’m so sorry! I forgot-”

“Kyouka, it’s fine,” you assured her trying to ignore the stares that you were getting from everyone else.

“Who the fuck would reject you?” Bakugou snapped, breaking the tense silence that had enveloped the group.

You, you thought miserably.

You and Bakugou weren’t friends, but you were friends with the other Bakusquad members. He tolerated you, but you had never spent any one-on-one time with your soulmate in the two years you had been going to school with him.

“(Y/F/N), why didn’t you tell us?” Denki asked, looking hurt.

“For one thing, I wasn’t technically rejected,” you admitted, toying with your hair, leaning further into Eiji. “I have my mark and everything still, even though it’s wicked faded, since they don’t really know what I am to them. It’s a really long story. Point is, I never told them, and they’re happier without me. I’m not what they want, and that’s okay, I like what we have now.”

“They don’t know? Then how do you know they’re happier without you?” Denki asked.

“Because they’re with someone else.”

Everyone fell silent, even the other people in the common room.

“How are you okay with that?” Izuku asked quietly, clutching Shouto’s hand tightly.

“I knew from the moment I met them that I wasn’t going to be it for them, you know? They were confident, and proud, and I just . . . wasn’t.” You glared down at your hands like they held the answers to your issues.

“At first I thought we had one of those unbalanced bonds, but then we went in for the provisional licensing exams and they met someone with the same mark. I saw them together and then I realized something. We didn’t have an unbalanced bond. We didn’t have a bond at all!”

You smiled softly.

“It made me happy, actually, not having to worry about it anymore. I mean, sure, I cried my eyes out for three days afterwards, but that kinda just faded away. They were happy, and I finally knew that I was romantically unlovable. I mean, I had always assumed, but it was good to know for sure, you know? I didn’t have to worry about whether it would be a problem or not.

“I saw her mark you know, when they showed her off for the first time,” you murmured. “It was the same as mine, and yet the way he looked at her, like she was the best thing to ever happen to him . . . I knew I had made the right decision to never tell him. I knew the moment I met her that I was never going to be that girl that tried to steal him.

“I wasn’t going to make him miserable by telling him, making him overthink the ‘what ifs?’. I wasn’t going to make him decide between the two of us. One, I knew who he would pick. And two, I knew that even if he didn’t pick me, he would think about what it would’ve been like.

“Besides, I love him, I wasn’t going to make his dream harder by being a part of his life.” You shrugged, then realized how much you had just talked.

Mina, Uraraka, Izuku, Kyouka, and Eiji were crying, Shouto was giving you an undetermined look, and for once, Bakugou was silent.

You also realized how much you had given away with your story.

“Guys, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad!” you said, waving your hands. “Why are you guys crying?”

Izuku launched himself at you, wrapping you in a hug. “Yo-You aren’t unlovable (Y/F/N)! Wh-Why would yo-you ever think-think that?” he sobbed.

“I mean, am I wrong? Have you guys seen me? I’m not exactly soulmate material.”

“Shut up!” Bakugou shouted, standing suddenly.

You looked up at him, curling around Izuku on instinct. You knew they didn’t have the best history, and while you trusted Bakugou not to hurt him under normal circumstances, he seemed pretty pissed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yelled, pulling you up by the back of your shirt, making Izuku drop to the ground.

“Bakugou, calm down,” Eiji tried, also standing.

“I don’t get what you’re asking me,” you admitted as he set you down on your feet, smoothing out your shirt.

“Why the fuck are you so hard on yourself you idiot?”

“Because everyone else is too nice to tell me what I’m doing wrong. I have to be hard on myself because if I’m not, then no one will be.”

You stared into his crimson eyes, as they stared back into your own (Y/E/C) eyes. It was a battle of wills.

“I’m fine with who I am, I know who I am, not many people can say that. I know that my soulmate is happy, and I know that no matter what happens, I’m not ending his life.”

Then a question popped into your head.

“Why the fuck do you even care, Bakugou? We’re not even friends.”

“(Y/F/N), who told you that you and Bakugou weren’t friends?” Denki asked, standing up.

“I mean, I thought it was obvious,” you admitted, not breaking eye contact. He had beautiful eyes, they were the first thing you had noticed about him other than his shitty attitude.

He continued to stare you down, almost like he was searching your eyes for something.

“I can feel the sexual tension,” Shouto muttered, and Bakugou flushed.

“What the fuck did you just say you bastard? I have a fucking girlfriend,” Bakugou snarled, breaking the eye contact to turn to Shouto, who looked as stoic as ever.

You rolled your eyes, that small pang of pain deep in your stomach throbbing as you turned away from him.

Soon that would fade too, you told yourself.

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

The festival was coming up again, and you were really looking forward to it. Mina was teaching you how to dance, Kyouka was coming up with new lyrics, and taking song suggestions.

On cleaning day you agreed to do a lot of the work so the others could do their thing.

“Try to tear us apart, but know that we’ll wear our scars,” you sang, throwing the trash outside. “Excuses, excuses that’s all that I hear, all that I see when I look in the mirror, I can’t escape all these thoughts in my head, they’re waiting to haunt me night after night, I feel it in my bones, and everything I know, it’s underneath my skin and it won’t let go-”

You stopped when you saw most of the class standing by the door, staring at you.

“H-How long have you guys been standing there?” you asked, cheeks heating as they stared at you.

“Hey, (Y/F/N), can I ask you something?” Kyouka asked.

“Shoot,” you muttered.

“Do you wanna be lead vocals?” Kyouka inquired.

“I don’t wanna take your spot though!” you told her, waving your hands.

“What’s that song, (Y/F/N)?” she replied.

“Um, Scars, by I Prevail. Why?”

“I love that song!” she cried, taking your hands in yours. “Will you do it? Please?”

“I mean, do you really want me to?” you inquired, watching her face.

“Yes!” the entire class shouted, making you jump back.

“I-I guess it wouldn’t be too much,” you agreed, fidgeting with your fingers. Singing wasn’t something you normally did in front of other people. It was the one small escape that you had been able to hold onto after you all had to move into the dorms.

Not many people even knew you could sing, you did it alone in your room.

“How well do you know that song?” Kyouka asked you as you walked back into the school dorms.

“Like the back of my hand,” you admitted. “I’ve been listening to it since I was twelve.”

“So if we randomly played the song you would be able to sing to it? Even the vocal changes?”

“Without a doubt, I was going to enter a talent show, but I chickened out because I sounded terrible. I’m surprised you guys liked it.”

“I don’t like to agree with Bakugou on much, but I agree with him on the fact that you’re too hard on yourself,” Shouto said, looking at you.

“Yeah (Y/F/N), you sounded amazing! How did you keep that from us?” Izuku asked, making you smile.

“I mean, I never thought I was good, but I hum sometimes,” you said, heading to the kitchen to finish up the dishes.

“Well, feel free to sing around the dorms, you sound really good!” Denki shouted.

“Thanks Denks,” you replied.

And so it went, you sang Scars around the dorms until everyone knew the lyrics, which was good for the backup singers.

You even caught Bakugou humming it to himself on the way to class one day. Though he was one of the back up singers since he could manipulate his voice the right way, so it was expected.

You had known Bakugou was your soulmate during the U.A entrance exams, he’d had his tattoo uncovered for the world to see, and you had known who he was immediately upon seeing it.

But while you had been working up the courage to tell him, you had seen what he was like.

He was everything you weren’t, and you had made your decision then and there that you weren’t going to tell him what you were.

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

“Momo, I have a small request,” you admitted to her. “The straps on this are a little tight, and I think it would look better without them.”

“Oh, you’re right! I’ll have that fixed in a jiffy!” she assured you, taking the dress you were going to wear for the performance.

You didn’t tend to like strapless dresses, you thought that they were a little sketchy, but you wanted to look good, and the straps cut into your skin something fierce.

Momo had it finished the day of the performance, and you barely had time to make sure it fit before it was your turn to perform.

When the lights came on they blinded you, but then the music started and you smiled, stepping out onto stage.

Your voice started out softly as you say the first line, “Try to tear us apart, but know that we'll wear our scars.”

You let the music flow through your body, letting the beat vibrate through your blood as the routine made your body move on instinct.

Bakugou moved with you, and you two fell into a similar routine as you moved around the stage, dodging the people on instruments, just like the practice runs.

“Excuses, excuses are all that I hear All I can see when I look in the mirror I can't escape all these thoughts in my mind They're waiting to haunt me night after night I feel it in my bones, and everything I know It's underneath my skin, and it won't let go They know me all too well, but only time will tell If this is who I am, do I know myself?”

For the first time since the entrance exams, you forgot that Bakugou wasn’t yours. You forgot that were doomed to be alone for the rest of your life.

“Don't forget your life's your own, don't ever let it go.”

You thought of the people in your class that were making their life theirs. Of Shouto, who had never really known his family. Of Izuku, who was doing this because of him mom. Of Uraraka, who was trying to repay her parents. You let the emotions guide your voice through the lyrics.

“In the heat of the moment when fear has you frozen You're crashing and burning when life's at its coldest Don't fall too far from who you are They can cut us, but we'll wear our scars.”

You thought of all the scars you had seen. Izuku’s from saving people and proving himself. Of Shouto, who would never forget how or why he had his. Of the new scars on you from training and pushing yourself. Of the mental scars that Bakugou would carry.

“In the heat of the moment when fear has you frozen You're crashing and burning when life's at its coldest Don't fall too far from who you are Try to tear us apart, but know that we'll wear our scars Try to tear us apart, but know that we'll wear our scars, wear our scars.”

You thought of how people were slowly accepting their scars. How Izuku looked at his and saw the saved lives, the leaps and bounds of progress he had made. Of Shouto, who was proving that he wasn’t his father. Of Bakugou, who was learning that he couldn’t keep being an ass. And what did you think when you looked at your scars?

“Denial, denial is all that I've known Holding me hostage, I'm never alone Fighting for air, I'll fight to survive My soul's not for sale, I won't pay the price I feel it in my bones, and everything I know It's underneath my skin, but I won't let go.”

You had seen a lot of heroes that forgot what it was to be a hero. You had promised yourself that you weren’t going to be one of them. You had promised everyone you had saved that you were going to be a hero they could be proud of.

“Don't forget your life's your own, don't ever let it go.”

You were going to cling to your life, even if your soulmate was in love with someone else. You may not have had a soulmate that wanted you back, but maybe you could be friends. You could be okay with that.

“In the heat of the moment when fear has you frozen You're crashing and burning when life's at its coldest Don't fall too far from who you are They can cut us, but we'll wear our scars.”

You knew who you were. You knew what you were going to be. Now the only thing you had to do was prove that you were serious about it.

Scars weren’t something to be ashamed of. Stretch marks showed growth, they told the story from childhood to adulthood, of changes made. Pregnancy stretch marks showed growth of a child, the purest thing in the world, untainted by society. Scars showed where you had been, they told your story.

“You can cut us up, but we will survive You had your chance, now it's our time to stand up and rise We will survive Right now, the tables turn We're gonna scream it out loud and let our voices be heard.”

You were part of a new generation of heroes, heroes who knew what it meant to be a hero. They knew how to learn from the mistakes of others. They knew what they were risking. They what they wanted to do.

“In the heat of the moment when fear has you frozen You're crashing and burning when life's at its coldest Don't fall too far from who you are They can cut us, but we'll wear our scars.”

You and Bakugou were synced as the song started to end, only a few verses left. Your time with him was ending, and you let your voice be dictated by the emotions singing through your very being.

His eyes met yours as the final verse started, and you saw yourself reflected in his eyes, a version of yourself that you had only dreamed of. You saw the sweat formed from moving around each other so much. You saw the glow from the lights, the makeup, the joy of being on stage, of doing something you loved. You wonder if he had always looked at you like that, or if you’re emotions were just high because of what you were doing.

“I feel it in my bones, and everything I know I feel it in my bones, I feel it, I feel it I feel it in my heart when it all turns to dark Try to tear us apart, but know that we'll wear our scars.”

There was a moment of silence as the echo died, when the last note faded, where it was just you and the others, the joy of accomplishment before the crowd erupted into a shout of happiness.

“Thank you all for coming!” you shouted into the mic, over the noise of the crowd, stepping away from Bakugou and the others, bowing.

Someone tossed a rose up to you and you smiled, taking it before backing up to the others, helping them clear the stage so the next act could take over.

“So, (Y/F/N), when were you going to tell us that Bakugou was your soulmate?” Eiji asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“That black mark on your back is a Soul Mark, and it’s the same as Kacchan’s,” Izuku said.

“What? It’s black? You’re sure?” you asked, running to the nearest mirror.

“Of course it’s black,” Denki said. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because the last time I looked at it two weeks ago, it looked like this,” you replied, pulling up a photo of it on your phone. “It shouldn’t look like this.”

The pale gray made everyone wince and flinch towards their respective soulmates.

“It shouldn’t look like this,” you repeated, trying to get a good look at it.

“You didn’t tell me.”

You flinched as you caught a glimpse of Bakugou in the mirror.

“I already told my story,” you told him, turning away from the mirror to look at him.

There was some emotion on his face that you had never seen before.

“Katsuki!” his girlfriend cried, throwing herself into his arms.

You backed away, hoping to be able to get away from the awkward situation, but then he spoke up.

“You didn’t tell me our Soul Marks matched!” he yelled, practically tossing his girlfriend to the side.

“What?” she snapped, looking bewildered.

“It’s nothing,” you assured her, holding your hands up.

“It sounds like you’re trying to steal my soulmate,” she snarled.

“I’m not. If I was I would’ve told him the moment I found out we were soulmates. He’s happy with you,” you told her with a shrug, turning away.

“You aren’t going anywhere until you talk to me,” Bakugou shouted, running to latch onto your wrist.

“Bakugou, let me go. I’m not going to be a homewrecker. I’m not making you miserable.”

“I’m already miserable,” he snapped, then glanced back at his girlfriend.

“Oh shit,” someone muttered.

“You know what?” you snapped. “Fine, fine, if you wanna have this conversation now, whatever. But I’m moving this somewhere private.”

You ripped your wrist out of his grip, storming back to the dorms.

“Will someone explain why this nobody is trying to steal my man?” his girlfriend asked, her eyes blazing.

“I’m not trying to steal your man,” you told her. “He just saw the mark and freaked out about it.”

“I ‘freaked out about it’ because you’re my soulmate and you never told me!” he shouted.

“But Katsuki, I’m the one with the mark,” his girlfriend protested, positioning herself between him and you. “Are you sure hers isn’t a fake? She might be trying to trick you.”

“It’s the real thing, this is what it looked like a few weeks ago,” you said, showing her the photo.

“Pity then.”

“Do you want to touch it? Call in a fucking expert?” you snapped, loosing your patience with her.

“Shut up,” Bakugou snarled to her, then turned to you. “Explain this to me, (Y/F/N), because I can’t figure it out.”

As you re-explained everything, his girlfriend scoffed, rolling her eyes.

She clearly didn’t buy it.

“Likely sob story,” she said, baring her teeth at you. “I’m the only one that’s worthy of Katsuki. And he’s the only one worthy of me. You’re nobody.”

“I know that I’m nobody,” you snapped at her, wincing at your own tone of voice. “That’s why I never planned on telling him!”

“Never?” Bakugou asked, voice quieter than you had ever heard it.

“Never,” you repeated.

The joy from earlier was gone, replaced only by stress, a bone deep tired, and the deep ache in your stomach as you stood there.

“I deserve to have the future number one hero!” his girlfriend yelled, some inner leash she had kept on herself snapping. “I deserve to have him all to myself! The whole reason I stole your mark in the first place was to have the best! If he questions everything this easily then I deserve better!”

You flinched as she took those few steps to slap you, your head rearing back in shock.

“What do you mean you stole my mark?” you asked, hand cupping your cheek.

“I was behind you at the entrance exams,” she snarled, a wild gleam in her eyes. “I could see the mark peeking out of your costume and figured out who Katsuki was to you. So I stole your mark.”

“How? Soul Marks are one of a kind, unique to your soulmate,” you reminded her.

“It’s my quirk,” she snapped, like it should’ve been obvious.

“Her quirk is a lot like Toga’s,” Bakugou explained, moving to step between the two of you. “She can copy an appearance if she touches the original person.”

You stared at the girl in front of you. She had seemed so sincere when you had first met her, so . . . perfect.

“I think it’s time you left,” Hitoshi said, appearing behind her.

“What did you say to me?” she asked.

“I think it’s time you left.”

“Villain,” she hissed.

“Hey, you can’t talk to him like that. He’s more of a hero than you’ll ever be,” you shouted, getting in her face, your cheek still stinging from where she had hit you.

“What did you call me?” Hitoshi asked.

“A vil-”

Her voice died as she was brought under his control.

“Go to Aizawa, explain in detail what you did to both Bakugou and (Y/F/N), and tell the truth. Don’t touch either of them ever again,” he ordered, sending her away.

“Are you guys okay?” Denki asked, running over with the others.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I’m so sorry.”

Before anyone could get to you, you were inside the building, running for your room.

Tonight was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be something everyone enjoyed together.

You ignored the calls of your name, ignored the footsteps of the person following you.

You slammed your door, unzipping the dress, throwing as far away from yourself as you could, throwing on a the biggest shirt you had, then the biggest hoodie. You felt the need to cover everything.

For the first time in your life, you wanted to skin the mark off your shoulder blade. You wanted to take a knife and rip the mark off.

“(Y/F/N), can we come in?” Izuku asked, tapping on your door lightly.

“No,” you called, curling up on your bed, tears streaming down your face.

“(Y/F/N), are you okay?” Shouto inquired.

“No.”

You headed for the only mirror in your room, washing the makeup off.

“Go away guys!” you yelled when someone else knocked on your door. “I’m not okay and I just need to be alone.”

“I need to talk to you,” Bakugou said, barely loud enough for you to hear him.

“Why? I’m sorry I pretty much ruined your relationship, but you were the one that wanted to talk to me about it!”

“Please, just let me in,” he begged.

You sighed, not bothering to stop the tears as you opened your door.

“I’m sorry she hit you,” he murmured, touching your face lightly. “I didn’t know she was like that.”

“It’s not your fault. I should’ve made sure the mark was actually gone before I made changes to the dress.”

“You were really never going to tell me?”

He was different. He had changed since your first year, but this was different than even second year Bakugou.

He seemed hurt by the fact that you weren’t going to tell him. He seemed uncomfortable.

“Look, we’re soulmates? So what? You can walk away right now Bakugou and I won’t say anything. I . . . I don’t want to make you miserable. I just . . . if you’re happy, that’s good enough for me.”

“What if you make me happy?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t make-”

“You do make me happy,” he interrupted. “Do you think that . . . do you think it’s possible for me to make you happy?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I spent so long avoiding you that I just assumed I would make you feel frustrated.”

“Frustrated?”

“Does crestfallen work better? Depressed? Malcontent perhaps.”

“I never felt anything with her,” he blurted. “I thought that might change with time but . . . she never made me laugh. My mother hated her from the minute I brought her home. I think my mom would like you.”

This was dangerous ground.

No. This was honesty.

“Your mom is important to you, isn’t she?” you asked, sitting on your bed, scooting back until your back hit the headboard. You gestured for him to sit with you, and he sat at the end of the bed, leaning against the wall.

He nodded, glancing at you.

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

“Alright, how about this?” you started. “Next time we get a chance, you take me to meet your parents and if they like me we give this a shot. If not, we walk away, no hard feelings.”

He nodded again, watching you.

“Alright.”

“So you were really never gonna tell me.”

“Bakugou!”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader soulmates #katsuki x reader #bnha katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou #angst #misunderstandings #bnha x reader #my hero academia

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magniloquent-raven · 3 years ago

Text

more of my trans billy ficlets here 💕

thing is, billy never wanted kids.

he didn't even like playing with the stupid plastic babies that out of touch relatives thought made good christmas gifts. the dolls stayed in a sad creepy little pile in his closet—shoved in the corner behind the laundry hamper—til he was ten, and his father started really cracking down on his be grateful for what you have campaign.

billy still insists that using his mom's hairspray to set them on fire counts as playing with them. but that particular argument ended with billy icing a black eye, peeking through the bathroom window to watch his dad lug what was left of his dresser to the dumpster across the street.

point is, billy's never had any interest in being a parent, not even playing pretend at being one.

and that was never really a problem, no guy stuck around long enough for it to ever be a conversation they'd have to have.

until steve.

and steve...steve was fucking born to be a dad, and billy knows it. even without knowing all about the botched dream of a white picket fence happy ending with his high school sweetheart, without having seen that wistful look in his eye when he talks about how he was going to take a shitty job with his dad and live out his suburban i-peaked-in-high-school fantasy, even without all that, it's still obvious.

because he's happy mothering his rag-tag band of ducklings, even though they're too old to be babysat now. because he lights up with the most precious fucking goofy grin when random babies wave at him in public. because he knows all the ways his parents went wrong, and he's exactly the kind of person who'd do better just to spite them.

but billy doesn't know if he's that kind of person. and he's not sure if he'd ever forgive himself if it turns out he isn't.

he's not sure what he'll do about it if steve ever asks, so he's been doing the only logical thing. avoiding the subject entirely.

which, obviously doesn't last.

they've been together for three years. they share an apartment. marriage and kids and all that normal adult couple shit is what mature people talk about when they're in committed relationships, apparently.

it started with a favour for a friend.

some girl steve works with needed someone to watch her toddler for a couple hours, and of course steve volunteered. would've been fine if he hadn't forgotten something at home and called billy to ask him to drop it off.

and, see, it wasn't like he meant to stay, the kid was just so fucking clingy, and took a shying to billy of all people.

and billy saw the little soft-eyed smiles steve kept throwing his way whenever the kid latched onto his leg or babbled at him in toddler-speak that billy had to pretend to understand. he noticed. he's can't stop noticing. can't stop nervously glancing at steve, anxiety threading itself around his heart, his lungs, til he's all tangled up in it, tied up, stomach lurching when it pulls and tightens. he's tense, and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

and it does. in the car on the way home.

"you ever think about having kids?" steve is trying so hard to be nonchalant that it's almost painful. he's tracing patterns on his jean-clad thigh, billy can see him out of the corner of his eye. he keeps his gaze locked on the road.

he should probably ease into it. maybe. he has no idea, actually, this is probably gonna be a shit-show either way. for one, brief, horrifying moment he wonders if steve would break up with him over this and he can't breathe for a second.

and when his lungs expand again what comes tumbling out of his mouth is—

"i'd be a shitty dad, steve."

he winces at his own tone.

"fuck off, you would not." steve's vehemence surprises him enough that he forgets not to look. steve's brow is furrowed, his jaw set in a stubborn pout.

billy chews his lip silently, fingers tight on the steering wheel. "what makes you so sure," he asks quietly.

"you're kidding, right?" steve huffs. there's a pause, and his palm lands on billy's bicep, warm and grounding. "i'm sure because i know you." he squeezes billy's arm, "and...max and i talk," he adds, voice soft.

"knew introducing you two was a bad idea," billy mumbles. "fucking gossiping behind my back"

steve snickers. "all good things, i promise."

"right."

"...mostly good things."

"hm."

"come on, she loves you and you know it."

billy sighs, a half-hearted grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "yeah."

"and so do i."

"...you better." his smile grows when steve slaps his shoulder. "yeah, yeah, love you too, jesus."

"you better," steve echoes sarcastically. after a quiet moment of slowly drawing circles up and down billy's arm he adds, "i doubt myself too, y'know. it's not like i have any idea how to parent, mine weren't around enough to help me figure that shit out." he snorts.

"oh come on, you parent the shit out of those dorky brats of yours."

"nah..." steve shrugs, his hand slipping from billy's shoulder. "i was just. there, i guess. not like they listened to me or anything. which was probably good, 'cause i gave shitty advice and swore too much."

"you must done something right, they're still around." he glances over at steve. he's not looking back, he's got his forearms folded across his stomach, fingers curled around his elbows, slouched in on himself. billy reaches over and slips his hand around one of steve's. "hey. every one of those kids looks up to you, and you fucking earned that."

the rest of the drive is spent in companionable silence. billy knows its not the end of the conversation, not even close. it's going to come up again later, but it feels less looming and terrifying now. it's hard to be too scared of what-ifs when steve is two feet away and fiddling with one of billy's rings with a soft smile on his face.

later turns out to be when they've settled into bed for the night.

when steve rolls over, tugging billy's arm until it's draped around his waist, and he wiggles around trying to get his pillow squished just right. and billy watches him with an amused smile. and steve grins back, for a second, before he bites his lip, and—

"so, i...do want kids. um. just to be clear."

billy sighs. "yeah, i figured."

"i know you'd be great at it, billy," steve says quietly, firm and gentle and so damn sure that billy almost wants to believe him. "and we'd make a real pretty kid"

"jesus, harrington."

"what? it's true."

billy huffs a laugh. "yeah." he shifts, sheets rustling around his legs. "i never wanted kids, you know. always fuckin...freaked me out. the idea of it." steve watches him quietly, a warm hand on his chest, waiting patiently as billy pauses. "still fuckin' freaks me out. but you...it's less terrifying when i think about doing it with you. maybe."

"yeah?" steve's grin is blinding, his whole fucking body curling into it.

"maybe. keep it in your pants, bambi."

steve kisses him, cupping his cheek and leaning in slow and careful. "it's okay if the answer is no. it's okay. i'm just..." he nuzzles a little, eyes falling shut and a soft, contented smile warming his face. "makes me feel all special that you'd even consider it. for me."

yeah it's starting to look like there isn't a whole lot billy wouldn't consider doing for steve.

he snorts, and kisses steve's nose. "yeah well, don't get used to it."

"mm," steve snuggles closer. "wouldn't dream of it."

#steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #stranger things #trans billy hargrove #a raven's writing desk

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trashcatsnark · 4 years ago

Note

Your recent posts about Cyberpunk are everything to me! It is such a pleasure when I see you answered a new question. I actually keep checking the tag to see if there is something new from you.

So if that is okay with you I would like a ask you one because I would love to have your opinion on the matter. How do you think Johnny pre ending would react to realizing V is developing feelings for him, despite their doomed future (even though everything turns out to be great with V living and Johnny having a body because that is the only canon ending that matters)?

AHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH YOU’RE MAKING ME BLUSH, AHHH IM GLAD YOU’RE ENJOYING THE POSTS (I was a little worried I’ve been flooding tags and annoying people, so that’s really reassuring)

Spoilers as always!

Okay, so I thought about this for a long while and was mostly torn between two camps of thought, because I also think Johnny would be torn between his thoughts. Johnny himself can be very reckless and has thoughts, beliefs, that contradict with his own behavior. He can go from beating V up, to chatting to them in a diner, to trying to use them, to promising to die for them all within the span of a few weeks. He loved Alt but screamed that she was only a fuck to him. He loved Rogue, but cheated on her. Kerry was his best friend, but he was never above mistreating and manipulating him. He claims he wants to change the world to protect the people in it, but often shows no empathy or kindness for those very people. He preaches the value of change but allowed himself to stagnate. He promises to die for V, wants to save them, but when he has control he does stuff that could very well kill them (excessive drugs, alcohol, and the car crash he caused). Combine that with his newly developing desire to change and be a better person; he can be hard to really understand, even to himself.

So, what are these camps of thought for if he realized while still an engram that V unequivocally and unquestionably love him in a romantic way, despite the way he “knows” this will end.

Well, in another time and place, another Johnny. He’d probably use this as an excuse to get V in bed, then discredit their feelings because he can’t handle it then destroy the entire relationship. Because there has always and may always be a part of him that when people get too close, he wants to push them away. Don’t get through the walls, he only wants people to see a certain side and part of him, he can’t let them get too close. So, anytime he realizes someones starting to chip through those walls, he starts throwing the bricks at them. Hell, after clouds, if V states “yeah I get it, that’s how they killed you, I saw your memories” Johnny gets visibly uncomfortable and says “okay.... we’ll get back to that later” The idea that V, a stranger still practically at this time, knows his memories...knows him in this weirdly deep way, makes him so fucking uncomfortable.

Sidenote, kinda: this is something him and V (albeit V is typically less aggressive about it) have in common. Think of how few people know V’s real name or have been granted the right to call them by it. Think of how despite Jackie being their best friend, they still knew so little about him, he still wasn’t allowed to call them by their real name. They’re clearly upset when the doll says their name. Johnny and V are both people who have put wall after wall between themselves and everyone else. And now in a twist of fate, Johnny’s been shot like a cannonball through his own walls and V’s, so there’s now not a single wall between these two strangers and they both hate it until they dont.

Back to the point, there’s a part of Johnny that instinctively wants to seek a way to destroy it, to ruin all that he’s built with V because he’s terrified of crossing that final line, that one last barrier, of truly being who he wants to be and being with V in that way. He’s terrified of what it means, and he’s terrified that he won’t be enough, that he’s too fucked up and broken to deserve it, that there’s still something inside of him that V hasn’t seen and when they do they’ll leave him in the dust. And that aggro, selfish, scared bastard part of him screams at him to never let it get that far; tear it all down so it never happens.

But he is changing and doesn’t want to hurt V. So, he refuses to use them though that little voice tells him to take the most he’s comfortable taking (ie sex) then throw the rest away. He shuts that voice out, refuses to let himself do that to V, he’s done with that. Though a part of him feels guilty to even have that thought, how can he be such a bastard, maybe he’s not changing as much as V gives him credit for...

So, he may pull away (as much as he can) for a bit. Talk to V less, stay in their head more. Not because he necessarily wants to hurt or distance himself, but he needs time to think. He knows he feels the same way, but he’s scared of so many things. Hurting V, them realizing he’s too shitty of a guy to date, what happens after he’s gone? How will they feel, won’t that make it hurt worse?

But, if he loves them, and they love him. And this is all the time they have left, maybe they should just enjoy it.

So, maybe, he thinks, he should ignore it. Pretend he didn’t hear and move on as if nothing has changed. But, maybe, he also thinks he can’t, that he shouldn’t that denying them both something they clearly want will hurt more than losing it in the end.

Johnny has always been big on enjoying the good things while you can, those little moments where even he could find peace and happiness. It was after all something he got upset at Alt for “always gotta ruin it, always gotta shit on the moment dont you?”, even with his date with Rogue, he just wanted a nice night at the movies, a night to pretend all was the way it was before and to ignore reality for a night; but too much had changed.

And a part of him worries that it’s selfish too, he still isn’t quite certain of when he’s being a selfish bastard and when he isn’t. Maybe it’s wrong to want to take that time to just say fuck it; even if he’s gone in the next week, let it be the best week he could ever hope for. Squeeze as much love and time together into whatever they have left.

Ultimately, he realizes that’s what he wants, he wants to just say fuck it and let himself fucking enjoy whatever they can, whether its’ days, weeks, or hell maybe he can even get a full month before he gets wiped. But, what the fuck does V want? He knows what they feel, but not what they wanna do about it, and maybe that’s the more selfish thing...doing all this thinking and figuring without even asking V what they want.

So, he decides to stop spinning his fucking mental wheels and ask them. Tell them, he knows how they feel and if they want he’ll forget he ever found out, this conversation can end here. They can pretend those feelings don’t exist, Move on and continue as they always have; because at the end of this he will be wiped to save them. He will die for them, because he knows the chances of saving them both are slim and none, and slim died a while back. He made his promise and he meant it. He will do them no harm and he will die so they can live the ife they deserve. That is how this ends and it’s the only ending he’ll accept (so he thinks). So, knowing that and knowing what a rat bastard he was, maybe still is, knowing he can’t give much, hell he’s not sure he can give anything; do they still want more, they still want him in that way, do they truly still want to love and be loved by him knowing they’ll have to let him go and that that time ain’t too far off? Cause he knows what he wants.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #johnny silverhand #silverv #thanks so much for the ask and sorry this is probably all over the place and incoherent but so is johnny #this also if of course maybe idealistic as far as him growing and would probably got to be a bit of time into it #because I think it'll take some time but its critical he really does learn that he can't make all the decisions #he can't always be the one setting the tone and deciding what it it's gonna be #a big thing for his development to me is learning to not only respect decisions and choices he may not agree with #and learning to actually communicate like an adult to ask and learn okay what is it that the person i love wants #Anonymous

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sunset-novice-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Pinky Promises |Bakugou Katsuki x Reader|

Hey guys, the long-awaited PInky Promises Part Two. It’s finally out guys, not going to lie this is long. I think I will cut back on this, possibly to make it part four. Despite it being a bit of a wait, I hope you all enjoy this!

Taglist: @blackgirlanimes @songbird-writer @rattycakes263 @lady-bakuhoe

Without anymore delay from me. Here is the Part Two of PP!

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Departure & Promises

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Frustrated, Katsuki released another displeased growl as he paced back and forth in his room. He wanted to talk to you outside your house that night, but he heard your sobs. The sound cleaved him in two, guilt seeping into his very soul. Deep down in his mind, he could move toward you to apologize, but he hated that it engraved his stubbornness into his very being. He knew that it would be easy to say those two brief words that would make this all better, but his pride and stubbornness would only end up botching them.

However, the teen didn’t have a lot of time to mull over things. He wanted to convey to you how he really felt, because today was the day you’d be leaving for an entire year.

Why did it have to be so long, anyway? How could your parents just dump you like that and not care?

Only silence answered his questions, making him feel more irritated further than he already felt did before. Your actual parents didn’t have any sense for giving you up. Katsuki thrusted his fist out to relieve his anger that seemed reasonable at the moment.

To him, you were his own walking, talking source of happiness, your smile erasing all of his anger and woes. It saddened him to think about your goofy ass smile disappearing for a long time, leaving him with nothing but a space in his chest. It made him want to seek you out, to just hold on to you and engrave the look of your smile and what it made him feel into his bones.

Now, that very smile -the one that soaked his dreams in honeyed delight when his nightmares threatened his mind. You might get swept off of your feet by some shitty extra.No one was worthy of something so special except for Bakugou himself.. It left a bitterness swell inside his chest. Countless shitty ‘what ifs’ piled up inside of his mind, causing him to stop his pacing.

“Arrgghh! Screw this shit!” He cursed. Why was he letting these weak thoughts run rampant in his mind? Weakness was the one thing he didn’t stand for in his life, so why was he letting it consume him now? Bakugou knew exactly what he wanted from life; to chase after his goals, to beat all of life’s challenges, and to find a partner tray would accept him and treat him as their equal — which was you.

Then thinking about the hurt expression on your features when he said those stupid words to you, it made him realize that he didn’t deserve you. All his bravado made him pause, closing his eyes to calm himself, wondering why he didn't say something in that moment.

He never admitted openly whenever he did something wrong—He brushed under the rug while a threat dared anyone to mention it. Instead, with you he didn’t mind if you expressed your anger at him. You just walked away from him instead of saying something which unnerved him to no end. It made things feel all that heavier for Bakugou, like he realized. That this would be his last chance to tell you how he felt. All that he wanted to express did not match up because he lashed out instead.

Yes, he could admit it damn Deku for getting in his head space. He wasn’t man enough to at least say that he was in the wrong, even if it was directly to a person's face. Katsuki glanced at the photo he kept on his dresser with you in it. A goofy ass smiling lifted your lips upward hugging him close to you, yet he hated how he got so flustered that day.

Still, he couldn’t help it; you were just too damn soft for your own good and that perfume that suited you only added to the problem. “Damn it, I just wished I could take back what I said to her.” Bakugou huffed to himself. He pulled out his phone to glance at the screen, checking for any messages from you. To his surprise that was not a single text, or missed call appeared on the screen of his phone from you.

Should I really text her something? No, I can’t do that! I have to say it in person…

He gripped his hair in annoyance, letting out another huff with a scowl shaping on his lips. No, that would be useless. He needed some way to make this up to [Y/n], not a text message when he messed up so bad. You probably thought he would not show up to say goodbye given how cold he’d been. It was a fair point to make. Now he had to listen to that damn Deku lecture him about how he wasn’t being considerate.

That’s the last person he wanted to give him to give his fuckin’ two cents. While Katsuki got involved deeply in his thoughts someone came into his room announcing themselves.

“Hey, Bakubro!” A voice called out cheerfully, causing Katsuki to narrow his scarlet eyes into a glare, not happy about the intrusion. Why did that hag let that shitty hair come in? He wasn’t in the mood to see anyone at the moment he groaned; he didn’t want to hear his loud ass voice right now.

“Shut up, idiot!” Katsuki growled, his hand coming down in a karate chop on Kirishima’s head.A yowl in pain escaped Eijirou who came to bring his hand to rub the bump on his head.

He winced, rubbing his bump, glanced at the blonde giving a sigh himself.” Geez, I was coming by to see how you doing Bakugou. Why did ya have to hit so hard, man?”

Ignoring the shitty hair, he did not have time to hang out with this dumbass he needed to figure out how to clear things up with [Y/n]. “Bakugou, you need to man up, like seriously.” Eijirou’s brow knitted in a frown, his voice filled with concern for his best friend who’s glare deepened in his direction.

“Dumbass! I don’t need your help.” Katsuki's eyes flashed in defiance, his tone furious mixed with an unfurling, unrelenting stare demanding he didn’t continue. His worrisome opinion wasn’t he wanted because this was something he needed to fix himself.

“What good is lying to yourself man…” Kirishima shook his head in disappointment, he placed a hand on his shoulder turning him around to face him. In reply, Katsuki smacked his hand away from his shoulder, hating that even this goofy idiot was using his brain. An idiot giving him advice that was sound, though where had this Eijirou been all the time they were in school-maybe he was just having a moment.

“I know my [Y/n] wants to see you before she leaves.” he stated truthfully, he visited you along with Deku and the others just as your family was getting ready to depart. Your eyes looked so sad that you didn’t see Kastuki there among everyone. Kirishima gave him a hard look when he scoffed at his answer to [Y/n], but not that hard to tell he liked her by the light flush on his cheeks.

“It’s none of your business Kirishima.” Bakugou scowled, he wanted to see you though that sad expression clenched at his heart, as he stopped for a minute his eyes widening for a second. Your flight didn’t leave for another hour, wasn’t it? He hoped that you weren’t preparing to head off early, not yet he needed to see you.

“I thought she wasn’t taking an early flight?!” he shouted at him. Eijirou eyes widened in surprise to see Bakugou’s shocked expression, and another string of curses escaped his mouth. Nothing would keep him from seeing his dumbass, not mention were you down in the dumps by what he said. You left early because of what he said to you. A thought unnerved him, making Katsuki wonder if you would even come back.

“Shitty hair we are taking your car to the airport.” He pulled Kirishima by the collar of his shirt, dragging him out of his room hurriedly. Damn him if you left without listening to what he needed to tell you. At least he would tell you what he needed to last night from the argument that transpired between you.

“All right, all right, Bakugou!” Kirishima chuckled at his friend, as he grinned a little feeling it was about time he faced up to his manly feelings. [Y/n] would be in for one heck of surprise, though he hoped you both stopped dancing around each other.

“Stop grinning, dumbass!” Katsuki glanced at the redhead with a goofy-looking grin on his face.Kirishima just grinned wider causing the blonde to roll his eyes at the antics he was displaying.

“Manly displays of admittance ain’t shameful-” Kirishima started, his eyes gleaming with admiration. He got a fist hitting him in the head. One thing was for sure, he wanted to make it before he lived with regret--regrets were something Bakugou Katsuki would never be subjected too.

He’d be damned if you left without hearing what he needed to tell you.Katsuki never could face the denial of his feelings for you, not wanting emotions to impede his own goals.

Katsuki was in love with [Y/n]. He just hoped he wasn’t too late to tell you his genuine feelings; his time was slipping through his fingers. The seconds were slipping away so he couldn’t waste time.

Just wait for me [Y/n]... I’m not letting you leave so soon, dumbass.

_____________________________________________________________

A grand farewell party memorable send off with your friend’s is something you wouldn’t forget.[Y/n] headed out for America to meet her biological parents. You knew that your hope in thinking Bakugou would be there made you hopeful. No one had heard from the explosive blond at all as most of his friends tried to reach out. It still made you feel like nothing until you got that stone wall of his stubbornness to see sense. You maneuvered through the crowds that filled the pack airport your parents walked with you.

While your parents went to get the tickets together you set your gaze toward the enormous glass windows. The morning had already ended to cascade a beautiful sunset across the sky that was a spectacular view for you. A stunning view that didn’t uplift your mood..At least you would have your memories of this place with all your friends, though something deep down inside you couldn’t left of being unfilled. A few moments away from going across the world to meet people you barely knew.

I should be excited to do this, but how come I can’t stop thinking of Katsuki?

That was the most prominent that he would not show up. It’s not like you needed to dwell on the possible because when your friend wanted to be stubborn, that was it.You spent a few moments shifting through music between text messages from your friends.. They wanted to see how you were doing while you waited to board your flight, and you always found the group chats to be full of interesting banter. You were currently in one right now with Izuku, Mina, Ochako, and Denki.

They had been trying to cheer you up since Katsuki was a no show at your farewell party.You were currently reading the first few messages that appeared in the chat, as you seemed to miss some of the conversation that transpired. Apparently, there was a lot you were missing about the conversation, so you read through the group chat. At least this would keep you entertained while your eyes scrolled through the conversation.

Acid Queen:

I can’t believe Bakugou! He should have at least came to say goodbye to [Y/n].

Green bean:

I know Ashido… -_-; Kacchan has always been stubborn, and I’ve got a pretty good hunch he’s at home angry at himself..

You weren’t really trying to think about Katsuki at the moment though in the beginning the conversation seemed to start that way. Your eyes drifted toward though Ochako’s comment made you interested to know what she was talking about.

Gravity-Hime

I think it’s obvious why Bakugou’s like that. ^-^ I’m surprised no one has really figured it out yet. But, I can’t really talk.heehee

Frogger Girl:

Like how you have a crush on someone in this cha--”

Gravity-Hime;

Tsuyu, shh! It’s a secret this not the chat for that >/////<

Greenbean:

Wait a minute...crush? Who is it---

Acid Queen:

Let’s get back on topic guys! Back to our Atomic tempered friend here.

Pika-Thunder:

Aw, now I wanted to know what that was about. What a way to ruin the fun Mina. v-v

Acid Queen:

Shut up, Kaminari!

This is not the time. We got more important matters to discuss.

Like how to get him too--Oh, shit!

The conversation was becoming entertaining for you to read you found your curiosity peaked. What had they learned about Bakugou, which you didn’t already know? You hoped to learn about the topic further until Mina’s outburst led to the reason for the name that entered the chat. It made you understand the cause for concern which everyone was scrambling to typing fast.

Explosive King and Rockin’ Riot have entered the chat.

You clung to your phone staring at the screen debating whether you should watch what he says. Or let your nerves take over to just close the screen out altogether? Screw it, you went with the latter to read the comments since Katsuki joined the chat.

Explosive King:

What are you shitty dumbasses talkin’ about?

Green Bean:

W-what a surprise Kacchan..um how’s it going?

Pika-Thunder:

Hey Bakubro!

You missed the party with [Y/n]! It was so much fun, man.

Acid Queen:

Hey, Bakugou, Kirishima! It’s about time you guys showed up!

Explosive King:

Stop calling me that,idiot!

Damn, Deku.

Rockin Riot:

Were a little busy guys!

Our Bakugou has finally man’d up another level--

Explosive King:

Shitty hair! Stop. Fuckin. Talkin.

You wondered what they were busy with at that moment you noticed Bakugou exit the chat. Your eyes scanned with the comments from Mina, and the others wondering what Kirishima would say next. Since the blonde was no longer in the group chat—he probably was reading the conversation before he arrived. You got interrupted before you could read the message that got sent in the group. A sudden grasp on your shoulder startled you out from the beeps and the buzzes of the chat notifications.

“[Y/n], it’s time to go sweetheart,”she smiled at you softly in return and you gave a bit of a sigh. You stood up to follow her toward the gate while slinging the strap of your backpack over your shoulder. Heading your way to the line filled with more people that planned to take the same flight, you spotted your Dad saving the both of you a spot in line.’It will be quite a while before I see this place again.’ Your thoughts dampened a little walking alongside your mother until you both were next to your Dad.

Your father ruffled your hair a little, giving you a reassured grin trying to lift your spirits. “Don’t worry [Y/n],”his voice cheerful, wanting you to think about the positive.” It will only be for a year. Who knows? Maybe Katsuki will be here when we come back.”

Shaking your head with a laugh, you gave an amused smile at your father. “Maybe you’re right? Somehow I wonder if I would rather get pranked first, old man.” You said sarcastically, you still hope that maybe you’ve got the outcome you wanted. The line moved once more, turning your eyes back forward, getting lost in your thoughts again. Once you got on that plane you would be too far away to face Katsuki--he seemed too busy to bother to call you.

Perhaps, thinking it sounded better to not stress over someone who you never understood, or you thought you had a good grasp on your entire life.What you could not fathom was a loud young man’s voice screaming through the airport.

“Dumbass!!,”You knew that loud gruff voice anywhere, your eyes widened in surprise.

Everyone in line at the terminal jumped a little at the outburst while you were too busy trying to find Katsuki, he was the only one who’s voice could command that level of volume. Deep down, you wondered if it was him though another part of you sounded like an idiot for doubting that much.

“I know you can hear me, [Y/n]!”he called out once more while sending a few curses along his way in the crowd.”Move out of my way you shitty extras!”

Yup, that indeed was your Bakugou all right you tried to blink back tears that wet your eyes. Before your parents could stop you your feet moved on their own accord, making your way through the line to get to him. You wanted to see him. You darted out from under the rope barrier following the sound of his voice. he sounded far away. If he kept on shouting like he had been you would be there in no time.You felt your heart thud wildly in your chest in excitement filled with an eagerness to see those sharp scarlet eyes, you’ve missed. Your feet started moving once again moving toward the middle of the spacious area shifting your eyes to dart around the airport.

You wondered just how far Bakugou was from you moving your gaze to take a gander around the area. In hopes you find him when you didn’t you picked up your feet to run once again bobbing and weaving through passerby's. While on the occasions giving short and quick apologies when you bumped into someone. A shuffle in the crowd broke apart a little at a time, making you catch a fraction flash of ash blonde hair.

You panted a bit out of breath from your sprint standing for a moment. While your lungs regained some oxygen lost.You walked closer while the crowd parted for the snarling angrily at the people who got in his way.

“If you don’t get out of my way .I’ll blow--” You felt nervous at those words Katsuki uttered. The last thing you wanted was airport security to drag him off. For his outburst threating to blow someone up. Nothing would impede you seeing him, so you thought about going with expressing your genuine feelings.

“Katsuki, I love you!” you confessed rather loudly. A blushed stained your cheeks with eyes staring at you, not at all missing the choke sputter that left Bakugou’s mouth. Things happened slowly around you both while the crowd around you naturally parted a path way for you to see each other.

That’s when you saw Katsuki not too far away from you to finally lay your eyes on bright red eyes. The pink flush touching his cheeks due to your expression laid vividly on his face with Kirishima grinning like an idiot. You noticing him walking toward you wearing a scowl on his face. You caught him staring at you which you moved to walk forward until you both stood in front of each other.

“Bakugou, I--”You started to say though you got cut off quickly by him.

“Idiot, I heard you already.”He hushed you his face still sporting a blush he grabbed your hand he added on.”If you’re gonna confess like that, use my first name then, [Y/n]”

He glared at you though you noticed it was softer than his usual ones.Katsuki sent Kirishima look telling him to go do something else.The redhead waved to you both before giving a thumbs up to his friend. You smiled giving him a nod, you wanted to ask him what he was doing here. A good hunch made you think better on asking him that instead waited for him to speak.

He sighed deeply to himself running his free through his hair. Giving a glare to the noisy onlookers who abruptly shifted their gazes away from you both.

“Look, I didn’t want you to leave without apologizin’“He admitted. You noticed that he stared back at you.His hand squeezing your own.”I realized I was a dumbass.”He begrudingly stated hating that he called himself an idiot.

You let a amused smirk touch your lips.” Pretty much, yeah.”

Katsuki scowled at you giving you a warning,”Don’t get cocky! This is a one time thing, princess.”

You shook your head at him of couse he was bound to sound overconfident. Hey, that’s what you loved about him.”Yes, sir.” You saluted him, your voice holding a tiny bit of sacrasm though it was playfully.

“[Y/n]..”You looked at him stopping your little teasing. When his voice turned serious all of a sudden.His hand jerked you a little closer to him where you felt his breath brush against your lips. It was his turned to smirk watching your face shift to a scarlet contrasting the skin tone of your cheeks.

“Yes..?”You inquired. You wainted for him to speak watching his eyes change to a gentle expression something you’d thought you never witness in all your life.His arm came to wrap around your waist to bring you close to him in an embrace.While his pinky finger came to hook around your own in the start of a pinky promise.

“When your stuff is done over in America...”He started to say before pausing to get the right words out. You saw his brows knit together a bit in frustration.You knew he wasn’t the type for the mushy stuff though the grand gesture he mind meant more to you than he would ever understand.

He felt irritated try to convey what he meant not being the words kind of guy. “I love you too,dumbass,”he spoke bluntly to you making you lift your lips into a dorky grin.”So, you better promise me you’ll comeback.”

You responded by squeezing your pinky around his you answered.”It’s a pinky promise, Katsuki.” Your smile brought back that flustered expression.He scoffed, looking off to the side he would not have you outdo him.

“Oh, I think have something better to seal the deal, [Y/n].” He grinned at you, making you blink confusion. A tug of your joined pinkies pulled you forward, making you press your lips against his own. Your first kiss with Katsuki was unexpected, though you weren’t complaining.

You flushed a deeper scarlet; you felt yourself melting in against him, somehow he surprised you which you never understood after all you didn’t much care as you enjoy soft kiss you shared.

“This is so manly...Congrats, Bakubro.”

Kirishima was sniffling manly tears in the background. While everyone else in the airport awed and cooed at the new couple.

Your pinkies never came undone from each other while you kiss continued. A pinky promise would become a precious memory.It started your relationship with Katsuki. You planned on keeping your promise to return.You would come back to the boy that stole your heart.

||||||||||||||||||||||| |||||||||||||||||| Fin ??? ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Welp that is it for part two guys!!! I hope you all have enjoyed this there might be another installment. I really appreciate all who have read this one shot series. I apologize in advance for the OOCness within the series.

Please reblog and comment for feed back.😄

#bnha x reader #anime #mha #bakugou katsuki x reader #Pinky Promises #long awaited part two #this ls long guys.

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zumpietoo · 3 years ago

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I love how obvious it is that the noobies don't actually watch the show. That was neverrrrrrr the narrative the show remotely pushed in season 1, tho, TBF, they WERE gonna legit do the triangle and minus the mystery, honestly, the show largely looked to be copying the comics (Slizzy wanted Douchie cuz childhood crush/power couple----Douchie fell in love with Vermin at first sight).....

Everything else? Nope and that was the entire fucking point.....and, honestly, if Cole and Lili hadn't been a couple with great offscreen chemistry and the pilot hadn't been such a steaming pile of poo, they probably would've STILL followed the comics moar closely.

The only one endlessly insisting how "perfect" they were for each other was Gossip Ghey.....and that was cuz he wanted to (really grossly) self-insert.

Additionally, a LOT of this shit further fails to add up:

For starters, no.....prior to everybody finding out Jason had been murdered (again, him drowning was tragic, but not remotely the same) we still had:

Seekrit Baby Charles

Homeless Jughead

Serpent Leader FP

Shitty Mom/Seekrit Drug Lord Gladys

The Sugarman

Douchie fucking Grody Grundy

Preggo Paulie in the Sisters of Teen Oppression

Abused/Total Bitch Pussy

Drug Kingpin Cliff/Seekrit Heroin Ring

Other Drug Kingpin Hymen

GrandPop and Pop selling their souls to Satan(???)

Hal soliciting prostitutes/murdering peeps

Slizzy groomed to be a Cereal Killah

The Farm (just not in town)

Sexual Harrassment Ring

Douchie turning down Slizzy. Multiple times

Slizzy being force fed drugs/keeping her seekrit diary....

Etc....

Now....Jason's deth exposed much of this, because it prompted Jug to write a book and Slizzy to resurrect the paper/start an investigation....but, in reality, the investigation was initially ALSO about finding Paulie....

So while there's a bit of mythos here (and it's kinda Agatha Christie-ish), LBR, ded Jason or no, a lot of this shit would've happened anyway.

I will say maybeeee no paper/investigation, so maybe Slizzy would've been less inclined towards that and never caught her dad....but Hal still would've been offing peeps. Because he'd been groomed to that way before.

I'd also like to know how, remotely, Vermin "challenges" Douchie....could somebody perhaps tell me? Also, again, funny how this is about what benefits Slizzy......I don't entirely think, in retrospect BH DID "understand each other", because there was a lot of shit that happened that clearly wouldn't have if they did.

So, again, this is Snorty's fanfic....

I think there might be some "what ifs", but not AUs and I think it's moar likely dreem sequences or alternate endings or somesuch....

Except we've been told and shown quite the opposite. I don't think Barfie's endgame, either.....but I also know they do film together past episode 5 AND the quadrangle is a lot moar likely.....with (which we know for certain) Jabi going strong.....

And, actually, that IS what Barfie want, you moron, that's the whole point here....

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terreisa · 4 years ago

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Love Down the Line: Chapter 12

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch. When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept. Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones. With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, AO3

~*CS*~

Boston, June 8th

Emma shifted from foot to foot in front of the door marked 520. It had taken her over a week to get her shit together and make the trip that she’d originally intended to make the morning after her show in Vancouver. Of course that had been before her phone had blown up with calls and texts about Killian’s video, which had hit a million views before the sun had even risen. It had also been before the small gaggle of paparazzi had grown to a crowd and forced her to use the same back door to leave the hotel that she’d used to enter it the night before. Those were the excuses she told herself in the light of day. She was much more honest with herself at three in the morning when she couldn’t sleep.

In the dead of night it was easy to admit that she was a fucking coward. Killian had laid his heart bare for the entire world to see, and judge, and all she’d done was call her manager. Granted she’d had to take a dressing down and listen to a frustrated rant meant for someone else but that was nothing compared to the self flagellation she’d been doing since she’d landed in Portland and driven north instead of heading south. To add an extra layer to her guilt she watched Killian’s video two or three times a day and that didn’t even count how many times she only pulled up the song portion. That, in the end, had been what decided it for her.

She’d tried finding the song on every streaming service and on every platform that sold downloads but it wasn’t anywhere. For the entire week she’d checked every morning when she woke up and every night before she went to bed but the song only seemed accessible in the video he posted. The temptation to illegally download it had crossed her mind once or twice but she’d been able to hold herself in check, mostly because she knew the audio quality would suck but even more so because it felt almost cowardly. That that would be the thing to somehow tip off Killian that she would rather torture herself with a shitty copy of the song he wrote for her than to actually talk to him.

It took far too long for her to piece together that because it couldn’t be downloaded or streamed meant that he wasn’t making any kind of profit from it. When she finally did she felt like her heart had been plucked out of her chest and was on the precipice of being ground into dust. She’d been out the door and on her way to Boston within five minutes of her realization and long before she could talk herself out of it.

The four hour drive had given her plenty of time to think over some things. How she felt about him, really, truly felt about him, for one. While Killian had pretty much said that he loved her she wasn’t so sure that was what she was feeling in return. She definitely liked him, a lot, so much so that the weeks since she’d practically ghosted him she’d grown used to the constant ache under her breastbone. The restless nights and obsessing over his video seemed a bit much but she could easily admit to herself that she missed him. It didn’t necessarily mean that she loved him, they’d really only been together for a matter of days after all.

Then there was the slight issue of what the hell she was going to say to him. An apology was a given. On the flight back to Portland from Vancouver she’d finally admitted to herself that she might have possibly, slightly overreacted when she’d heard about Killian’s record contract. She wasn’t completely in the wrong, he had lied and hidden things from her, but she definitely could have at least listened to what he’d had to say. That was another thing, she was going to keep her damn mouth shut after she apologized and let him say whatever it was that he needed to say to her.

Her planning and imagined conversations got her into Boston but once she’d parked her car she’d begun to worry. There was every possibility that he’d refuse to speak to her, that he’d take one look at her darkening his doorstep and slam the door in her face. He might not even open the door at all, just see her distorted image through the peephole and decide not to bother. By the time she’d reached his apartment she’d worked herself up so much with the ‘what ifs’ that she couldn’t bring herself to even knock on the damn door.

She’d been psyching herself up for at least ten minutes, raising her fist in a burst of courage only to drop it as another wave of unease washed over her. As she lifted her hand for the fifth or fiftieth time one of his neighbors slammed their door shut. Startled, her knuckles tapped the door, softly but enough to make a definite sound. Resigned and relieved she sucked in a deep breath and soundly knocked twice, stepping back quickly so if he did look through the peephole he’d clearly see that it was her on the other side.

For a few agonizing moments she stood, waiting. The neighbor who had slammed their door passed her by, giving her a curious look but kept walking. She briefly wondered if he knew he lived on the same floor as potential rock legend. The thought fled her mind when she heard the slide of a lock disengaging and the door in front of her slowly opened.

She could tell that Killian hadn’t been sleeping as soon as he stepped into view, there were dark purple shadows under his eyes that hadn’t shown up in his video. His hair was even more of a disheveled mess than it had been in the video too, and longer. He was wearing a pair of thin blue flannel lounge pants and a threadbare grey t-shirt with a rip at the collar and a faded Led Zeppelin logo. She’d never seen a more heartbreakingly beautiful sight.

“How-”

“Regina mostly,” she rushed to explain. It was way easier to tell him how she found him instead of why she had wanted to, “Robin helped with the doorman though.”

“They’re old friends,” he murmured absently. His gaze darted all over her, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was there, “Tuck put in a good word for me with the board when I decided to move here after rehab. Why are you here Emma?”

She winced, “Can we, um, go inside. I really don’t want to do this out here.”

Something flared bright in Killian’s eyes as his mouth tightened. She almost expected him to cross his arms and refuse. Saying everything she needed to say out in the hallway would have been embarrassing and awkward as hell but she was prepared to do it. In fact, she realized she would do almost anything to just get him to give her a chance. He must have seen that in her own eyes as he gave her a terse nod, stepping back into the apartment and opening the door wider for her to pass through.

As she walked by him she resisted the urge to reach out and brush her fingers against the back of his hand or worse, stop completely to wrap her arms around him and never let him go. Every ounce of courage she’d lacked before was suddenly filling her from root to tip. She was still nervous as hell but she wasn’t about to destroy everything for once and for all by chickening out at the last second. If things didn’t go the way she wanted it wouldn’t be because she decided that giving up was easier than fighting them.

Her steps slowed to a stop as she fully stepped into the spacious apartment. One of the living room walls was floor to ceiling shelves filled with books, cds, and vinyls while the second had an impressive entertainment system with a giant tv that had a soccer game frozen on its screen. There was a cozy looking couch and matching chair facing it that broke up the space between the living room and breakfast bar and the kitchen. What really caught her eye was the view from the sliding glass doors behind a round dining table that opened to a small balcony. It wasn’t full dark but the facade of the State House was already lit, its golden dome gleaming dimly.

“Nice view,” she muttered quietly.

“You were more excited by the one in Malibu,” Killian said flatly, startling her as he stepped up beside her. He gave her a wry grin, “Bit jumpy there, Swan? Don’t worry I won’t bite.”

She turned fully towards him and held his gaze, “I’m more nervous than worried.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked but he didn’t look away. After a moment he gave a small sigh and moved toward the kitchen.

“I’d offer you a stiff drink but chamomile will have to do.”

He brushed past her, moving into the kitchen. When she didn’t move he huffed and pointed to one of the high backed stools tucked under the breakfast bar. She gave him a small smile and when he turned his back to her to open a cupboard she shook her head at her nervousness. Silently admonishing herself she sat down and watched him move around the space, a defensive set to his shoulders as he gathered the things for their tea and set an electric kettle to boil. Once there was nothing left for him to fiddle with he turned back to her, leaning casually against the far counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

“So it took you ten days to ask Regina where to find me?” He asked in that same flat voice.

Despite his attempt to sound indifferent she could hear the hurt in his words. As much as she knew her answer would only serve to harm him more she couldn’t lie to him. There was enough of that between them already.

“I called her as soon as I finished watching your video-” she dropped her gaze to where her hands were folded on the bartop, not quite strong enough to watch him react to her answer, “ten days ago.”

Her confession was met with silence. She could hear the water in the kettle start to boil and the gentle hum of the refrigerator but that was it. After a few seconds of quiet torture she steeled herself and looked up, needing to know exactly how pissed he was at her. What she saw didn’t disappoint.

He hadn’t moved an inch, still leaning against the counter but there was nothing casual about it. Every one of his muscles were tense, his fingers digging into his bicep with enough force to turn them white while his eyes were two chips of ice, cold enough to burn as he stared her down. She was almost relieved at seeing the signs of his anger, anything was better than the indifference he’d been displaying before. The kettle clicked off but he showed no sign of noticing aside from the slight tightening of his jaw.

As he glared at her she tried not to let her own frustration and anger flare up. There were still so many things that they needed to talk about and any one of them could have him throwing her out of the apartment. She wasn’t about to be meek or amenable but she sure as hell wasn’t about to keep poking the beast that she’d awakened.

“Honey?” He growled.

She blinked, “Wha- what?”

“In your tea-” he uncrossed his arms and gestured to the mugs beside him, “Honey?”

“Um, yeah, that’s fine.”

He gave her a terse nod and began fixing their tea. With his back turned to her she took a deep, calming breath. She was no longer nervous, his reaction had been pretty much what she’d expected and that part was over with. Instead a hollow ache of longing had settled in her chest. There was nothing she wanted more than to talk like they used to, open and without pretense but also with a bit of teasing and flirting thrown in for good measure.

Killian topped his mug off with a splash of milk before turning and handing hers over. It was a white mug with a line drawing of a guitar and the words ‘I’m a kettle head’ written over it. She couldn’t help her snort of laughter at the sight of it.

“Something funny, Swan?” He asked with a raised brow, his cup of tea halfway to his lips.

She spun the mug so the graphic faced him, “Gag gift or did you buy this yourself?”

He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his tea but she could see his ears turning red. She let her own eyebrow tick up as he swallowed, shaking his head.

“Gift from a fan, actually. I made mention in an interview years ago that I enjoyed a good cup of tea in the afternoon. I’m still receiving packages of tea and its related wares on a steady basis-” he tipped his head towards her mug, “That was one of the more clever ones.”

Spinning it back so she could grasp it by the handle she hesitated. The opening was clear for her to start the conversation that needed to be had. She knew she should take advantage of it but he was no longer glaring at her and she wanted to bask in the small reprieve she’d found herself in. To prolong the moment she took a sip of her tea, humming at the soothing warmth and delicate flavor that danced over her tongue. The corner of Killian’s mouth ticked up and her heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“Not as good as my hot chocolate but it’ll do,” she teased.

Emma knew she’d pushed his patience to its breaking point a half second too late. Killian’s smile flared for a second before he pressed his lips together in a thin line and turned his gaze away from her. Her own small grin slipped and she berated herself for expecting too much too soon. She waited, quiet and still, until he looked back at her.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes widened and he let out a little huff of surprise but she barreled on, needing to get it all out.

“I’m sorry for so many things, waiting ten days to show up, not calling the second I finished watching your video, blocking your number so you couldn’t call me, fighting with you when I answered Ruby’s phone-”

“Swan-”

“I get that you’re mad at me. Good, you should be. I was terrible to you and I know it’s no excuse but I was hurt and you lied to me, but I still should have given you a chance to explain-” she gave a little hiccuping laugh, “God, if you’d done that to me and showed up at my house I would have slammed the door in your face and been done with it. And you? You invited me in for tea? Why?”

Killian shook his head with a huff. She could see his smile threatening to break loose again and the sight mystified her. He saw her bewilderment and pushed off the counter behind him with his hip, setting his mug in front of hers and leaned into her space, gently taking her hand in his.

“Don’t you know, Emma?” He asked, painfully earnest. “You said you watched the video, so you must know.”

“You’re mad at me,” she pointed out, even as she gripped his hand.

He tilted his head, considering her, “I am but that doesn’t change how I feel.”

“I’m not sure how I feel,” she confessed in a whisper, “I know I hated not talking to you late at night or being near you almost constantly but…”

She trailed off, unsure how to proceed without stoking either of their tempers again. Killian’s thumb ran over the back of her hand, encouraging her, and she reveled in the feeling. He gave her an encouraging nod and she took a fortifying breath.

“You lied to me-” he winced and tried to pull his hand from hers but she held on fast, “You lied and if whatever this is between us is going to work I need to know why. I promise to actually listen this time.”

He gave her a pained smile, “And if you don’t like what you hear?”

“I won’t know until you tell me,” she countered softly.

“Alright,” he said with a nod, one that seemed more for himself than for her. “Alright, but can you promise me one more thing?”

“Anything,” she agreed quickly.

“No interruptions. I think it’ll do us both good to have it all out in one go.”

She used her free hand to mime that she was locking her lips and throwing away the key. He gave her a small snort of a laugh, no longer looking pained or apprehensive, which had been her goal. As she gently squeezed his hand in encouragement she really hoped she’d be able to keep her promise.

Killian blew out a harsh breath and began, “Are you familiar with Cora Hart?”

Her eyebrows shot up and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her mouth shut. Cora Hart was the agent of all agents. Her firm was the one every struggling artist wished would represent them because every one of their clients was a superstar or on their way to being one. To be one of her personal clients was like getting a golden ticket to everlasting fame, fortune, and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. However, it came with a price and Emma wasn’t entirely convinced that it wasn’t someone’s soul. Plus Cora Hart was known by everyone in the industry as ‘that cold hearted bitch’. It was an unpleasant surprise to hear her name coming from Killian’s lips.

“Yes, I can see that you are,” he sighed. “She’s my agent.”

She grimaced. As much as she’d been prepared to hear it it still made her stomach drop. There were only so many ways his story was going to go and she wasn’t sure she was entirely ready to hear it, but she would, because she promised.

“I’ve been with her since the beginning. She found us playing at a small pub in Liverpool and snapped us up. If it weren’t for her we’d probably still be playing pub gigs but only on weekends-” he gave her a wan smile that didn’t last long, “I owe a lot to that woman, not everything but enough to know not to question her decisions on where to take my career. Even if I wanted to seek different representation she’s got me in an iron clad contract for at least three solo albums.”

“What?!”

She couldn’t help her outburst. While it was normal for a record label to offer contracts like that, she’d signed one herself for that matter, she was pretty sure it wasn’t standard for an agent to do the same. Then again she didn’t actually have an agent of her own. Regina was an employee of her label and didn’t need a separate contract with her and seemed more than happy to take care of everything herself. Emma thought that things had been working out alright, aside from the fiasco that had put her right where she found herself at that very moment.

“I have been bound by this contract for quite a while, Swan,” he said wryly. “Since even before the accident.”

“But that’s gotta be extortion or something, right?” She asked indignantly. “I mean, it’s been almost fifteen years!”

He gave her a warm look, “There are plenty of people who have been with their agents for much longer and I thought I said no interruptions, love.”

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“Realm of Jewels made Cora a very rich woman and an equally hot commodity in the industry. I had already planned to do a few solo albums and signed with her because she was someone I already knew. Back then I thought three albums was nothing, I had written material for at least six,” he said with a shrug. “After the accident and pulling myself out of the bottle she was gracious enough to allow me to do whatever I needed to do to get my life back on track. Even if it meant nothing more than doing recording sessions for other artists’ work. Of course, her patience could only be pushed so far and I’m sure I’d far exceeded the limit. She started not so gently reminding me of my contractual obligations about a year ago.

“At the time I figured I could piecemeal something together from my old lyrics and maybe a cover or two to get an album together. It wouldn’t have been great, fair to middling if anything, but it would have been enough to satisfy Cora for the time being. I wasn’t excited by the prospect and in the meantime I was still being hired for session recordings. One of which was for your album.”

Emma smiled and ducked her head. He’d made it sound like it was some great honor instead of a few hours work on a couple of songs. She didn’t even get to choose the musicians that got to record, that was all left up to the label, though she did get final say on how it sounded. That didn’t mean to say she hadn’t gone back to listen to those backing tracks almost as much as the song he’d written for her.

“It was the day we were recording for Snowdrops and Buttercups that I first met Regina. It just so happened to be the same day that Cora had come to the studio to once again remind me of my obligations. What I wasn’t aware of was the fact that Cora is Regina’s mother-” Emma’s head shot up at that and he nodded, “Whatever you do try to avoid being in the same room as them, especially when business is involved. I left the studio that day with my three album contract inexorably attached to the record label that Regina represented. There was also the small inconvenience of a series of deadlines being imposed. The first of which was having enough songs written to begin recording an album within six months. When Ruby called about needing a replacement I had about two months left to put something recordable together.”

Emma bit her lip. It was getting harder and harder to keep her comments and questions to herself. Especially with the bomb he’d dropped about Regina and Cora. She decided to take a sip of her tea instead. Before her mug even made it to her lips Killian was grinning widely at her.

“Go ahead, love,” he said with a bow of his head.

She slammed her mug down, splashing tea over her hand. With a hiss she shook off the droplets impatiently, ignoring Killian’s outstretched hand, not wanting to be deterred.

“Cora the heartless is Regina’s mother?! And if you had only two months to write an entire album why the hell were you allowed to come on tour with me? Is that why you had that lunch with Robin and Regina? For the album? Why didn’t you tell me all of this already?”

Killian’s expression immediately dropped into one of regret as she sat back, stunned at her directness. She absentmindedly rubbed at the reddened spot on the back of her hand that the tea had spilled on. The lingering pain was an excellent distraction from the tension that had sprung up between them. With a click of his tongue Killian moved to the sink, wetting the corner of a dish rag. When he turned back to her he paused and she gave him a nod, holding out her hand to him hoping he would see it as the olive branch she was offering.

“At first it didn’t seem as though it would be an issue,” he said quietly as he gently pressed the rag to her burn, “You only needed a temporary guitarist and as I mentioned earlier I had dozens of notebooks already filled with lyrics that would suffice. Regina was the one who scheduled the meeting with Robin as soon as I was officially attached to the tour. I believe her intention at the time was for me to hand over the completed songs and get the ball rolling as it were. She, of course, had no idea that you and I would become what we did.”

“Did you, um, have any idea?” She asked hesitantly, dropping her gaze to where his hand was still holding the damp cloth to the back of hers.

He used his other hand to tip up her chin and looked her in the eye, “I’d hoped but I could never be quite sure how you felt. Until Chicago.”

She wanted to confess that her hopes had started long before Chicago. That he had somehow snuck past her defenses into her heart with his charm and unwavering support but she couldn’t. He still hadn’t answered the question that mattered most to her. With a sigh she pulled away from his gentle touch.

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me any of this,” she said a bit sharper than she intended, her frustration and confusion bleeding into her tone. “We talked for hours on that damn bus. I listened to you talk about how much better felt tip pens are than ball points three separate times! Was it really so hard to say ‘by the way, Swan, I’ve signed with your manager and have to get an album written while we’re on the road’?”

He let out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his hair, “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“And look where that got you,” she said with a humorless chuckle waving her hand between them. “If you’d said something off the bat I would have been pissed at you for, like maybe a week, and I also wouldn’t have gotten my heart broken.”

Emma froze. She hadn’t meant to make that confession, especially when she wasn’t even one hundred percent sure what it was she felt for him. Killian seemed caught off guard too, as he stood staring at her with wide eyes and not appearing to breathe. He blinked and closed the small distance between them but made no move to touch her.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he murmured.

“You’re glad to hear I got my heart broken?” Her voice cracked and she pulled as far back from him as she could.

“If it can be broken, it means it still works,” he said softly but she could hear the hope in his words all the same. “I know I hurt you immeasurably, love, and I’ve earned no right to a second chance but if you can see it in you to do so I’ll gladly spend the rest of my days earning your back your trust and, perhaps in time, your heart.”

“Killian…”

“Finish your tea, Swan,” he said with a tight smile though his eyes were sparkling with the same hope she’d heard, “Don’t want it to get cold.”

She stared down at the amber liquid and watched the curling tendrils of steam as though they’d give her some kind of sign of what to do. They didn’t, of course, not that she really believed it would be that easy. There were still so many questions she wanted to ask but only one really mattered. Guarding herself against a final blow she looked up at him with determination.

“Were you ever going to tell me about any of it? Or was it always your plan for me to find out from someone else?”

Killian jolted back, as though she’d slapped him. He shook his head with a sigh before running a hand over his face. When he caught her eye again the hope had been replaced with pain and a flash of the anger she’d thought was behind them.

“I’d intended to tell you everything the night of the interview over the dinner we were supposed to share at my home. I suppose it was fortuitous that I’d listened to it or I would have sat with our meal laid out on the table, waiting for hours for your arrival. As it was I had to endure one of Regina’s assistants traipsing through the house, gathering your items and ignoring my pleas to explain what the hell was going on. Then, of course, there was to be no explanations forthcoming for nearly three days and absolute devastation once I’d received them. But after all that my feelings for you never changed, not once.”

Emma sucked in a breath at that. Even as he was justifiably dressing her down for what she’d done he was still playing it safe. He’d never stated outright what he felt for her but she knew without a doubt what he wasn’t saying. Funny thing was, his caution made her realize exactly what she felt for him with startling clarity. She gave a little laugh that bordered on manic but she was helpless against the sudden euphoria she was feeling.

Killian glared at her, “I won’t have you laughing-”

“I love you.”

The words seemed to hang between them in the quiet kitchen like a line cast out to the unknown. She could only hope that Killian would grasp onto them and tether her heart to his. As the silence stretched out she found she only wished she had told him sooner instead of dragging out both their heartaches. Shaking her head at her own stubborn foolishness she gave him a tremulous smile.

“I love you and I’m sorry. I was trying so hard to protect myself from getting hurt again that I just hurt us both so much more instead. I’m so tired of feeling like I tore a piece of my own heart out. You said your feelings haven’t changed. I want this. I want us. Do you?”

Instead of answering her with words Killian moved at a speed that surprised her. Almost before she had finished the question he was standing in front of her, his arms bracketing her with his hands on the back of the chair and the counter. His expression was deadly serious but his eyes were lit with joy as he leaned into her space.

“Swan, I want nothing more.”

Her smile was cut off by his lips pressing to hers. She gasped as one of his hands delved into her hair while the other banded around her waist, his thumb stroking at the skin above the waistband of her jeans. It was as if he was pouring every emotion into the kiss. His passion, his elation, his fervor, and most of all his love. With a moan she pulled him impossibly closer, hooking her ankles around the back of his legs to draw him in.

To her surprise he broke away, leaning his forehead against hers, breathing heavily, “There’s one last thing that needs to be said.”

“Now?” She panted, arching up slightly to nip at his lower lip. “Can’t it wait?”

“Not really,” he groaned. He kissed the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, sliding his mouth to her ear where he quietly sang to her, “But I wouldn't trade a day for the chance to say, My love, I'm in love with you.”

Tears welled in her eyes as he pulled back, looking at her as though she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He gently brushed away the few tears that had fallen with a finger, following closely behind with soft kisses that travelled across her cheeks, leaving her wanting more. By the time he moved to her mouth the heat between them had returned but she leaned back before he could press more than one delicate kiss to her lips.

“Emma,” he growled, his hand flexing on the back of her neck, his eyes hot.

“You know, you never gave me a tour of the place-” she gave him a teasing smile and gave an exaggerated look around, “I bet there’s all sorts of interesting rooms.”

He caught on quickly, his smile unfurling into something wicked, “Indeed there are, my love. Shall we begin with the bedroom?”

He didn’t give her the chance to answer as he swiftly pulled her up from her chair and tugged her quickly down the hallway.

Much, much later Emma was seated back at the breakfast bar in nothing but her underwear and Killian’s Led Zeppelin shirt. Her feet were perched in Killian’s lap, which was covered by dark blue boxer briefs that he’d only pulled on when the pizza they’d ordered had arrived. She tried to smother a giddy grin behind her crust but he caught sight of it and raised a brow at her.

“Something you’d like to share, Swan?”

“I’m just-” she gave a little shrug, “happy. I guess I’m still trying to process it.”

“I know what you mean, love,” he agreed, his hand dropping to her ankle to give it a squeeze. “If someone had told me yesterday that we would be here tonight, like this, I wouldn’t have believed them. Now, if they’d predicted us reconciling by the end of the week I wouldn’t have questioned it.”

“No?” She asked, humming in pleasure at the confidence in his voice.

“You’re not the only one who can wheedle an address out of Regina,” he said with a wink. Then he grew serious, “If I hadn’t heard from you by the end of the week I was planning on driving up to Maine to plead my case.”

“I’m surprised she gave it to you,” she mumbled around a bite of her crust. “She was all worried about you breaching your contract because of deadlines two weeks ago. A side trip to Maine would definitely eat into your studio time or something.”

“Oh-” Killian scratched behind his ear and then said offhandedly, “I’ve, er, been in breach of my contract since I posted that video, love.”

Her last bite fell from her fingers as she gaped at him. A flush was rising along the back of his neck and he gave her a sheepish smile.

“What?”

“Well, according to some of the very fine print in it I was forbidden from releasing any music by means other than through the label-” he shrugged and waved a hand as though dismissing the seriousness of the situation, “My lawyer assures me that at most I’ll only have to pay a minimal fine.”

“Pay a…” she brought her palms to her temples, “Killian that’s still going to be thousands of dollars.”

“I would have posted a hundred unsanctioned songs and paid every cent I have to my name just to get you to talk to me again,” he said matter of factly. He leaned over and plucked the piece of crust from her lap, tossing it into the open pizza box before fixing her gaze with his, “And it would have been worth it. You are worth everything.”

She dropped her hands with a huff, “Stop being romantic when I’m worrying about you.”

“Never,” he said with a wide grin that made his eyes crinkle. “And you don’t need to worry about me, Swan, I’m a survivor.”

“I love you,” she said with a shrug, “I’ll always worry about you.”

His grin mellowed into something that made her feel warm and cherished. He leaned over and grasped her stool, dragging it towards him until the already small distance between them was narrowed so only a puff of air could pass through. She gave a wayward thought to the state of his floors at the abuse they suffered but it vanished as his hand came up to cup her jaw, his thumb drawing a delicate arc across her cheekbone.

“I love you too,” he murmured just above a whisper, his eyes intent on hers, “I always will.”

Her happy sigh was swallowed by his lips on hers. The kiss was far more gentle than any of the others they had shared, even the ones from before their separation. With a slight thrill she realized that they would have hundreds, even thousands, more kisses of all sorts in the years to come. As they parted she couldn’t help her giddy smile at the thought.

Killian raised his brow at her, his gaze teasing, “Already, Swan? We’ve only just surfaced.”

“What? No!” She laughed, pushing him back, “I mean, yeah but not like that. I was thinking about us kissing but years from now kind of kisses.”

“Years from now,” he repeated in awe. He leaned back towards her, “I like the sound of that.”

“Me too,” she sighed. Then she crinkled her nose at him, “Even if I do end up supporting you because you have to keep paying fines since you’re a big YouTube star now. I know how you guys gotta keep posting content.”

“Har, har, love. Just so you know, Cora has already spun this in my favor,” he said smugly. “She’s convinced the label that it’s the perfect way to garner attention for my forthcoming album. Which is why I’ll only be paying a minimal fine instead of what it easily could have been.”

Emma sat back, “So you’re still going to do it? Record the album?”

“Not exactly, no,” he said with a crooked smile, “The songs I was planning on recording before are, quite honestly, rubbish. I’ve had a wellspring of inspiration these past few weeks. Robin is quite pleased with them as a matter of fact and he’s not hold back over the years when something of mine is only worthy of a bin. I’ll be heading to the studio once the whole contract debacle is taken care of. That is, of course, only if you agree.”

“Agree to what?” She asked, confused.

“The songs, my love-” he dropped his eyes for a moment and when he looked back up his gaze was wary, “You, us, what we’ve been through? Well… you know.”

And she did. She’d written dozens of songs about the man who’d left her in jail and pregnant and just as many about her lonely childhood in foster care. There was more than one notebook filled with longing ballads about the son she’d never even held. Hell, the notebook in her purse was pages of scribbles and half formed lyrics about Killian and their time together. So she knew exactly what he was getting at. She also had one niggling thought about it.

“Yeah, I do,” she said with a slow nod. Reaching towards him she took his hand between hers, “I think you should record the songs you’ve written, even the ones that I know don’t paint me in the best light, but I do have one request.”

“Anything,” he breathed, his hand flexing in hers.

“I don’t want to hear any of them until the final mix-” she let go of his hand to cover his mouth as he tried to protest, “No, hear me out first. I’m sure the songs are good, great even since Robin is excited about them, and that’s exactly why I want to wait to hear them. I know how much work goes into making an album and thanks to Ruby you know exactly how big a fan I am of your music. I just- I think I want to have that giddy moment listening to your first big solo album as the finished thing.”

Killian tugged her hand away from his lips and gave her a wry grin, “So you want to enjoy the sausage without seeing all the unappetizing steps of how it gets made?”

“Uh, weird analogy but yeah,” she said, relieved that it hadn’t caused another fight, “I wouldn’t mind seeing the pigs before slaughter though.”

“So you’ll berate me for the initial analogy but then proceed to take it to a much darker place. I see how your mind works, Swan,” Killian said with narrowed eyes and a look of mock sternness.

“I work with what I’m given,” she said with a shrug.

Killian huffed out a laugh before he grew serious, taking the hand that was still in his and placing them both over his heart, “You can look at every song I’ve ever written, love. Even the shit ones from primary school.”

She gave him a smile she knew was giddy, “Oh, I definitely want to look at those but I think for now I’ll stick to your most recent ones.”

“Wise decision,” he murmured,half rising from his stool, “Shall I go get them now?”

“No, it’s late, I can look at them tomorrow-” she flexed her fingers on his chest and when he looked back at her she tried to let him see every ounce of love she was feeling, “I’m not going anywhere.”

His smile unfurled slowly but adoration and love was bright in his eyes, “Good.”

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fan fic #cs fanfic #captain swan fan fiction #captain swan fan fic #captain swan fanfic #captain swan ff #ouat ff #my writing

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vedj-f-bekuesu · 5 years ago

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Ninjago Unpopular Opinions

Following on from my watch of the entire old series (combined with already having seen the last two series), I have enough material to work with to make a sort of unpopular opinion list. Some of these are lightweight, some of these are...uh, not so much.

These aren’t in any particular order, this is more of a “I’ll just put them down as I remember them” sort of deal. That’ll be why they appear so messy.

-Even after all this I prefer the newest seasons to the older stuff. There have been a surprising number of good to great older seasons, but I just love that hit of S1/S2 campiness with the more developed writing of later seasons.

-Cole sucked as a leader, aside from in the pilot episodes. In the series proper he varied from complete meathead I hated (first part of S1), to having the same mentoring personality as everyone else (S1 - S2), to being consumed by the love triangle which made him pull a really shitty move (I don’t need to tell you what that refers to). He eventually gets ironed out in season 4, but Lloyd had already taken over as leader at this point. And rightfully so, even if Lloyd’s material got knocked from season 3 as a result.

-I couldn’t really warm up to Ronin that much for some reason. I get the reason why he’s popular, since it was pretty obvious he was supposed to be like an off-beat mentor figure to Nya, but...I dunno, unlike with Dareth, it felt like his skeevy moments were more off-kilter, plus I didn’t really like his arc in Skybound (even if that was written out of reality). That being said, his was strong in Possession even with said moments. Maybe I just need a future appearance to see how I ultimately swing with him.

-I mentioned this in my Hunted overview, but I think Skylor’s just bland. Part of the problem is that she’s mainly just wedged in as an action girl and doesn’t have too many moments to interact outside of that. That’s mostly reserved for moments where she acts as Agony Aunt (which is fine, that shows that being supportive is in her nature), but she needs more to work with. And as an obvious offshoot, if Kailor is the intended endgame it sucks in its current form. They don’t have chemistry or a decent dynamic.

-The other Ninjago ship I don’t particularly like out of all of them is...actually Geode. Yeah, Rebooted obviously wasn’t good for it considering the love triangle, but what actually did more damage to it for me was Skybound. It went so far in trying to oversteer back that it beat you over the head with the fact they were making Cole and Jay best friends after said love triangle (made really obvious when Jay is worried about Cole’s reaction to him seeing Nya in his reflection in both Possession and Skybound, when Cole isn’t even phased when he’s told). It was just really off-putting.

-Jay is a better big brother figure to Lloyd than Kai. Yeah, Kai’s true potential moment in Rise of the Serpentine hinged on realising he (and the others, mind) were supposed to protect Lloyd, they all spent Legacy of the Green Ninja’s first half being Lloyd’s proper mentors, Zane’s death prompted Kai to hover with thoughts of the Green Ninja again (which seemed to me for different reasons to being envious of power at the start, although its handling was very clunky after that), and he had the first episode in Possession which was arguably the strongest showing of a dynamic with Lloyd, but Possession didn’t have much about it outside of said episode, and the show seemed to just forget it from that point beyond some very, very fleeting and sparse bits. In the more modern seasons, it feels like Jay’s stepped up to be more supportive of Lloyd on a more consistent basis (which would make sense with the common fanon that Jay is the youngest of the original Ninja, he’d be closer to Lloyd’s age). It’s something I kind of want tapped into in a proper way at some point.

-Sensei Garmadon is a bit overrated. Just a smidge. When he’s good, he’s good, but most of the time he’s no more interesting than Wu would be in the same position. And I feel like they didn’t really develop his fatherly bond with Lloyd too well despite that being what his character was there for. Again, aside from moments where he was really good.

-Most underrated season of the old batch for me was the last minute shock, March of the Oni. I did enjoy Day of the Departed (which has a worse reputation), but I can understand why someone wouldn’t like it considering how bare it was. March of the Oni is far from my favourite season but I thought it came together really well, so the fact it’s generally panned legitimately confuses me. I guess Hands of Time would be a contender too, but I think opinion on that has swayed in its favour after the new seasons came out (and Secrets of the Forbidden Spinjutsu would be here if I included the new batch) so that’s why it’s edged out.

-Most overrated season for me was undeniably Tournament of Elements. It’s not my least favourite season, but Rebooted and Hunted are pretty maligned to begin with, while Tournament of Elements is usually considered one of the top ones. It starts strong, has an interesting premise and there are ideas that are executed well. The thing is that the elements that people tend to praise the season for are ones I actually think the writers dropped the ball on, hence why this ended up the toughest season to get to the end of, even more than Hunted. It’s a shame, but it’s just not for me.

-Best ninja suits...honestly, I don’t really notice the suits unless they’re really bad, because I’m used to franchises where costume changes mark radical permanent redesigns, and are not just par for the course of the brand (it makes perfect sense with a toy brand who want to sell you the same characters over and over again but still). Not counting the S11 suits since they weren’t part of the old batch, I guess I’d honestly say the ZX suits, maybe? They’re simple, but they’re cute and very distinct. Also Sons of Garmadon Cole channelling the Movie costume was a very good move (and arguably looks even better ripped up in Hunted aethetically), and Kai’s suit was bleh in Sons of Garmadon but its overhaul in Hunted was way better. Also, just as a wildcard, Rebooted Lloyd looks like a more finely tuned ZX suit. Actually, just one last bit on a tangent to note a difference the show makes to the figures that demonstrates the figures’ limitations. For Kai and Jay’s S11 suits, their figures invoke similar feels (because underneath the accessories they do have a lot in common), whereas they feel very different in the show because while Jay sticks to the figure and looks snug, Kai has a lot exposed around the neckline, as if his gi is hanging loosely on the shoulders and should join Cole in the “For fucks sake it’s an ice realm wear a jacket please” club.

-Worst ninja sui--what the hell happened to Cole and Nya in Hands of Time?! Nya’s main issue is that it’s trying to work too many colours and they just don’t mesh well. I think this was the time they were partially adapting the movie’s change, but they were clinging onto her having red to both represent Samurai X and her ties to her brother, but they should have just picked one or the other because it just doesn’t work the way it did in Skybound. And Cole’s outfit is just hideous. Its balance of colours and accents is all off-kilter, and to top it off the shoes just don’t work and somehow look like socks with sandals. I didn’t know that was doable with a whole suit. Finally, on a general note, I’m not a fan of when the suits are all very similar bar some very, very minor differences. One could argue that it makes them look more like a team, but I prefer the individual personality to come out.

-It’s hard to judge the best and worst episodes, honestly. The seasons from Tournament of Elements onwards are done so tied to each other that picking an episode is rather difficult outside of designated finales (or the odd Jay-focused/Zane-focused episodes that happened in seasons 7, 8 and 9). I guess for best I’d say stuff like The Quiet One, or The Fall, or Grave Danger, or stuff like that would be up there. Worst episodes in those seasons are even harder, because usually it’s how arcs over episodes are written that get to me, not individual episodes. This all being said, it’s much easier to do this with the more episodic first three seasons, and to that end I would still say that Tick Tock is my favourite standalone episode still, and Home is still my least favourite. For all the times the writing has dropped the ball, nothing has legitimately pissed me off more than what this episode did because it’s in its own category of bad writing.

-There have been some concepts thrown in that, while they definitely wouldn’t work out in the long term, make for interesting snippets of what-ifs. Like, I loved the bit where Jay was a show host and got around the stage using his lightning powers. That seems like such a natural fit outside of his ninja identity I wish I’d thought of it. Imagine Bradley Walsh using lightning to get around the studio, that would be metal as fuck.

-On the other side of that coin, the bizarro Ninja are the single most overrated concept in the show. I don’t like Scourge the Hedgehog to begin with, but he at least had some efforts to make him unique (that fell flat, but eh). The bizarro Ninja are the equivalent of Evil Sonic; cliche and undeveloped. They’re not even useful for the cliche idea of framing the actual Ninja since even though they’re seen doing delinquent behaviour, this is never addressed. Heck Nadakhan was more effective with this idea. Thing is that I can’t blame the show at all for this. While the concept is naff, the show itself treats them as they actually were; Garmadon’s puppets and the scheme of the episode. Aside from bizarro Jay’s behaviour to Nya being full of unfortunate implications, there is no greater purpose for their existence, and the show never tries to do it again. It’s really the fans that have inflated their appearance in this case because I guess the idea of “take this nice character and give them an evil version” is just so appealing to the teenage demographic. Screw that, corruption is way more fun and interesting.

-What I can blame the show for is the single worst execution of an idea, because to this point I still consider Kai’s green ninja “arc” in Tournament of Elements to be the single worst executed arc (yeah, even worse than the love triangle, but that one is still bad). The sad thing is it managed to convince me that it wasn’t such a bad concept when they explained it by being an offshoot of his depression following Zane’s death (before that I was very sceptical it could fit it in naturally after the last three seasons). But then it was used once when Skylor tried to get Kai to stab Lloyd in the back during the skating match (which Kai completely rebuffed and seemed over his depression-rooted negative vibes on Lloyd), and once more when he was overcome by the power of the staff. The latter is especially infuriating since this would have been the perfect opportunity for a character moment. Like, Lloyd and/or Skylor could have fought to get Kai out of the trance of the staff and see that his friends mean more to him than having power. It practically writes itself and is a perfect set-up. What happens instead is that Cole is technically the one to save Kai from himself as he rams the Roto Jet into the chamber and makes the rocky serpentine structure come crashing down on Kai. Maybe interesting to read into if you want a Lava reading of the show, but in that moment is just a wasted opportunity. Come on!

-Actually, also talking about other bad concepts, I don’t miss those weird energy dragons they could summon starting from Tournament of Elements. The dragons in Rise of the Serpentine/Legacy of the Green Ninja were fine because they had a logical reason for being there and actually were integrated into the plot (so you got to watch them being maintained and having moments with the ninja). The energy dragons in Tournament of Elements existed for one character as a plot thing (Zane’s, because he always had the good plots in the earlier seasons), but then everyone else suddenly could do it too and they became convenient plot devices and nothing else. Airjutsu I was more okay with because it seems more like a tool they’d use and could be integrated better, but I can also see why that stopped being used (outside of that one bit in Prime Empire).

-The Elemental Masters are both over-hyped and underdeveloped. The normal civilian cast really got the shaft once the series decided it wanted to explore this lore, yet the only ones I really got interested in in any way were the villain EMs and Karlof. And even Karlof is overlooked by the fandom, by the looks of it.

-Jay actually came off the best in the Rebooted love triangle. He’s not entirely perfect, but he is essentially the biggest victim as a result of it in that season, and what Nya and Cole did either bordered on or was outright callous for different reasons. I think if people gave Jay the biggest shtick for Rebooted’s events, it’s influenced with how Skybound botched trying to patch it up.

-The movie was a net positive influence on the show. Aside from me preferring the designs of the movie anyway, it forced the characterisation to actually pick a lane for each character and stick to it, mitigating a lot of the haphazard characterisation issues. The inconsistency in later seasons is tone instead, which is maybe why people thought the characterisation was inconsistent between Sons of Garmadon/Hunted and March of the Oni/SotFS (when really, they weren’t that different if at all). The show also made a good call in ignoring movie Zane’s characterisation; as much as I enjoy it in the film, it really didn’t gel up with what the show had done with him, so trying to force it in would have been more of a characterisation jolt than any of the early season stuff.

-I’m generally fine with Jaya and Pixane. The former I can see why people would be off about it because there have been some badly written periods for them, but I think on the whole it manages to hold it together. The latter was written in surprisingly smoothly given the circumstances, so it’s no wonder I don’t see discourse about it.

-Oh yeah, I don’t get Wu/Faith as a ship. Like, she was the cool drill instructor/aunt to everyone, including Wu. This is a quick one because it’s just a very small aside.

-Also I can’t really get behind Polyninja either. If the characters had a fairly even spread of interaction and moments between each other I could, but the spread ends up like lots of moments between Cole and Kai varying from little moments to huge dollops, and Cole and Jay having a whole best friends affirmation arc due to the fallout of the love triangle, to Kai and Jay having barely anything to work with and anyone with Zane getting a couple of table scraps occasionally. It’s not even enough.

-Following on from that though, Zane feels the least integrated with the group dynamic in general. He’s has some of the best plots and stories in the show, but nearly all of them have been focusing on him solo. And not even SotFS or Prime Empire helped with this one. Hopefully MoM can smooth this one out a bit.

-Finally for this post, after going through all those seasons I still prefer Nya’s movie voice to her show voice by a significant margin. Sorry Kelly Metzger.

I think that’s it. I’ve actually been on this for a week but I’ve been allowing time for more thoughts to come to me, because there have been a lot of thoughts coming in batches. I think I’ll leave it at this though, because I think most of it is covered pretty well.

I have at least two more text posts like this planned, but they’re not strictly about the old seasons so I’ve left them for after. I’m looking forward to them though, because they’re on specific topics and that is my bread and butter pudding.

#ninjago #vedj-f talks #rambling is second nature to me #it's also my first nature

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metaphysical-human-being · 5 years ago

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Switcheroo 6

A/N: Why hello! How are you? Anyway, I’m back with more switcheroo! This one is a bit of an emotional rollercoaster but I hope you like it!

Warnings: swearing, yelling, small food mention, telling someone they're unwanted, ig unsymp Roman and Remus(I don’t know, they're just being mean to each other). I think that’s all, tell me if there are more!

Summary: Dinner is ready!

No one else is.

You can’t really blame Logan for not knowing how bad of an idea this was.

Roman refused to utter the name of the twin he had and neither Eliana nor George could remember the name of the kid they had rejected. They felt no need and now they couldn’t remember the name for the life of them so Logan never knew his name.

So when De had told him that he had a child named Remus who went to the same school that Logan taught, he thought nothing of it. He couldn't remember a student named Remus so he just assumed he didn't have him.

He wasn't wrong...kinda. He did have Remus but that was a class Roman and him were supposed to share so he was switched. Logan didn't really know that though. He knew he was supposed to have a new kid but he never showed then he just wasn't there.

If Logan had known...had taken one good look at Remus before tonight...well, we can't live on the what ifs now can we?

It was a Friday evening. The sun was setting, turning the sky a mixture of red and blues and pinks as it went down. The suburban orange street lights began to flicker on, alerting the neighborhood children to go inside and wash up for dinner. They could play all they wanted tomorrow but they do have things to do. The birds began to chirp they're final tunes as they flew to their nests and the night critters got ready to rumble. It was a truly calm and homely scene, the neighborhood.

Well, if you don't count the numerous items being thrown at people. Or the screaming. Or the rushing around and intense last minute cleaning.

“Roman!¿Has puesto la mesa?” Eliana called to Roman from her position in the kitchen.

“¡Si mamá! ¡También limpié el baño! ” Roman answered from the dining room, ducking at the random cooking item that Logan had managed to dodge. Eliana thanked him before going back to screaming at Logan about stirring the meringue wrong.

“It’s crazy,” his father had said, coming up from behind Roman. It was obvious he had just finished getting ready and was as excited about the dinner as Roman thought he’d be. His dad was an introvert, hated things like fancy dinner or parties. “Your mother wants to impress him more than Logan does.” he chuckled and Roman did too.

Truth be told, Roman was really excited to meet Logans’ new boyfriend. Ever since Roman had first been adopted he’d never seen Logan with someone. A few dates here and there but never anything serious. The first day Logan had met his new partner he had spent that entire dinner time going on about how amazing he looked and how he “couldn’t believe someone that hot could be so adorable why in the hell does my heart feel like this Eli I think I may be having a heart attack.”

He wasn’t but it was still amazing to see Logan so happy.

“You know mother dearest,” Roman smiled. "Always wants to make a good first impression."

"You're right. That's why I fell in love with her," his father smiled, a far away look in his eye. Roman tapped him on the arm to bring him back from the memory of his first meeting with his mother. One he talked about often.

After another 25 minutes and a lot more screaming there was a ring at the door. It ceased the chaos for all of five seconds before more started up. This time they were rushing to clean up the kitchen and making sure they looked perfect for the first meeting.

At his mother's instructions, Roman went to go make sure the table was straight. He didn't meet them at the door, only heard their voices. One sounded deep and suave. Elegant is definitely a word that would be used to describe that person.

The other voice...was familiar. A voice he knew he'd heard before. A voice that stirred something in Roman but he ignored it. Although he didn't ignore the name the elegant voice had used to address the familiar one. Roman stiffened.

"And in the dining room, our son Roman is making sure everything is perfect. He just loves helping," he heard his mother brag as they made their way to the dining entrance. A loving and cheerful voice that was a stark contrast to the booming one before.

They stood at the entrance. All looking at the sheer terror on Romans face. All the adults were confused. The teen however was not.

"Remus."

"Roman."

"You two know each other?" Logan asked, looking between the two. Something seemed to click just a second later when his eyes noticeably widened.

"Of course," Roman drawled, a strained smile on his face. "How could I not recognize my own twin?"

"So, Desmond-"

"Call me De."

"De, of course," his mother smiled at the man. The one she used for all guests but a bit...softer. "What do you do? Logan told me that you two met at that new café?"

De set down his fork and wiped at his mouth.

"I actually own that café and a few others around the country."

"Oh," George piped up, intrigued by the new information. "Was there a reason you picked North Carolina?" He asked. De nodded.

"I was looking to move-"

"Cus Remus got his ass kicked out of school."

"And I found an empty building in the area. It seemed nice, good weather, so I found a house and started construction."

"That place has been under construction for a few months. I remember driving by it. Wanted to check it out." Eliana said, shooting a glare at her son. She wasn't the only one. Logan had learned how to perfect the "angry mom glare™" and was shooting him one too.

Remus stiffened but kept quiet. Something he knew De would be proud of.

"So, Remus, what is your favorite subject in school?" Logan asked him. It was the first time Logan had met Remus as well so he decided to try and talk to him. If all went well he'd be seeing a lot more of him.

Remus finished chewing his food before looking at Logan. He held his gaze but made sure Roman was listening.

"I don't really know." He answered, truthfully. "Although I've never really been fond of theater. Too...girly." he said, shifting his gaze to look at Roman. De shot him a glare and kicked him lightly under the table. Remus flinched slightly at the assault but didn't say anymore.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Roman broke it.

"So, mother, I heard about this new thing. A study was done. Basically, the younger twins are a lot more likely to be immature and just altogether more hideous than the older." Roman had said. It was a lie and he knew everyone knew that too but it didn't stop Remus from scowling.

"Actually, dad," he had hissed, looking to De. "I saw this thing that said that twins that were born first are highly more likely to have a shitty personality-”

“Oh I’m the one with a shitty personality?” Roman snapped, slamming his fist down on the table. All other people at the table seemed to blend into the background as Roman and Remus stared each other down.

“I have to say,” Remus sat up straight, hands in his lap. “I’m proud that you seem to know all these new words. All that summer school you had to go to seemed to help. Even idiots can learn new things!”

“God you’re insufferable!” Roman hissed, shooting daggers at Remus. Remus shot back with a glare of his own.

“Ha! Jokes on you, I don't know what that word means!” Remus shot back, crazed smirk making its way to its familiar place on Remus’ face.

“It means you’re a pain in the neck!”

“Insulting me like this, Ro? I am a guest in your home and this is how you treat me? For a failed Disney prince I woulda thought you had better manners than that.”

“You’re not a guest,” Roman snarled, rising from his seat. “You’re an unwanted parasite!”

“Ha! As if I hadn’t heard that one before!” Remus scoffed, rising from his seat as well.

“Which part? Parasite or unwanted? Let me take a wild guess!”

Something in Remus seemed to switch. His eyes lowered along with his voice and he growled, actually growled, at Roman. Roman was on real thin ice. One wrong step and he’ll have crossed a line no human besides Roman would even dare think to cross.

“You’re on thin ice you spoiled little brat!” Remus said, something feral shining in his eyes. Roman smirked.

“What? Can’t handle the truth?” Roman laughed. This made Remus growl again.

“You wouldn’t know the truth if it hit you in your flat ass.”

“My ass is not flat you twat!”

“Boys, enough.” George said, placing his cutlery down on the table. Neither boys listened or made any move that showed that they heard him.

“Lemme tell you a bit of truth, Roman.” Remus growled, inching his face closer to Romans. “Right now...you’re making me rethink whether or not I regret getting rid of you four years ago.”

Roman seemed to mentally recoil as the rest of the table drew in a unanimous breath. The mental slap in the face hitting in all the wrong places for Roman. It made him want to run to his room and cry. Or hurt Remus. He chose the latter.

“Well, brother of mine,” he sneered, inching close just like Remus had. “You being here right now...I can see why no one wanted you.” he muttered, so low everyone had to strain their ears to hear. Remus stood up straight at that. Roman followed suit.

“That’s not-”

“That's not true? Hm? Is that what you were gonna say? ‘Cus I know that would be one huge ass lie!” Roman yelled, voice upbeat but so utterly condescending. “You know all those families? All those families that didn’t want us? Well, News flash! They didn't want you!” Roman screamed, pointing a rigid finger in Remus’ direction.

Remus stood, body stoic. Lips pursed and waiting. Waiting for the final blow that he knew was gonna come.

“I bet your Dad didn’t even want you.” Roman laughed. “I bet you were nothing more than a pitiful sight and he just couldn’t stand to leave you in the orphanage. Could he?”

Remus looked around at the others at the table. The adults who had been silent as they watched the countdown to the explosion on the fragile bomb that was Roman and Remus’ relationship. Tears welled in his eyes and deep down, deep deep down, Roman felt satisfaction.

Deeper down though, in a place Roman had tried all too hard to bury, he felt like a monster.

He felt horrible because he had vowed to never hurt Remus the day, the minute, the moment he learned that Remus was his family.

He still remembers it. He had been four and had watched Lilo and stitch for the first time. Ever the curious toddler, he had asked a caregiver what family was. What it meant and did he have one. He knew he had a brother, but didn’t know about a family.

“You do have a family,” she had said, pointing at Remus who was attempting to eat a Lego person. “He’s your family.” she had explained in the simplest way.

“What does that mean?” he had asked her and she knew what he meant. What he was really asking.

What did it mean to be a family?

“Well,” she had said, crouching down off the couch and onto the floor, right in front of Roman.

“Family are the people you care about no matter what. You love and protect them and they love and protect you. They may get on your nerves sometimes but...you'll always be there for them. You’ll never forget them. You’ll never not love them.” she said, going slow and Roman hung onto every word.

He looked at Remus, chewing on the tiny Lego person, and suddenly ohana had a whole new meaning.

Ohana means family and family means nobody gets left behind, forgotten or hurt.

Ohana means family and family meant Remus.

Ohana had become their new ‘I love you’. It was something perfect for their little two person family and every time one of them got hurt or they got in a fight they’d tell each other ohana and watch the movie that soon became their favorite.

After that day though, Roman tried to leave Remus in his past. Tried to forget him and move on and now he had hurt him.

Younger him would be so disappointed in him right now.

Remus looked at everyone frozen at the table, eyes shiny. He looked to De with a pleading look. He was begging him with his eyes to tell him that wasn’t true but De was frozen. No one knew exactly how to react and Des’ mind was moving far too slow to recognize the look Remus was sending him.

He gave one final, heartbreaking look to Roman. Roman knew what was gonna happen. He did it whenever he felt like crying but didn’t want anyone to see him.

Remus turned around and ran. Right out of the dining room and right out the door.

Within seconds Roman crumbled to the ground in a ball of tears and all hell broke loose.

Those who want to be tagged:

@datfearlessfangirl

@queer-human-being

@annoyingindeed

@deceitslimysanders

@mynamehasbeenstolen

@healthyboybrand

@lasilhouetteinbianco

@thetrombonewhisperer

@gayturtlez

#bob rites #switcheroo #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #tw swearing #tw yelling #food mention #unsymp roman?#unsymp remus?

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ocean-butch · 6 years ago

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How is cas different from ur other girlfriends

akcjwjxia i had to wait like SIX HOURS to answer this bc of a goddamn test i had bUT OH BOY ANON AM I GONNA LOVE DOING IT alfjadjsk i just love talking about my gf i love her so much i wanna gush about her 25/8

the short answer would be basically in every way bUt imma do it part by part.

okay so, in a simplified version i’ve had relationships with people whose personalities worked well with me but who were shitty girlfriends or a good girlfriend who just didnt really fit with my personality. i’ve actually given that so much thought even before i met cass, but the point is that i met her and she was just perfect for me in both ways (technically its more complicated bc theres a bunch of logic into this that im not explaining bc my mind is weird and it would be Way too long but anyways). but ok let get into How she fits me perfectly.

first of all literally no one ever in my entire life has made me laugh as easily and genuinely as she does. im not even exaggerating, like laughing was never really A Thing for me to look for in girls bc it just never happened???? like i had fun conversations and stuff but there was never anyone that made me go “holy shit i have never laughed this much with anyone else” and we have So many inside jokes, which is a thing that i almost never have????? and i always used to wish i did bc everyone would talk about it and i’d feel like i just wasnt funny and That was the problem. and also this is really important bc its one of the things that made me realize that i liked (and eventually, came to love) her. bUT its not the only one so theres also like all these things that we like and we can talk about for HOURS like i remember when i watched infinity war and the first thing i did when i got home was call her and we talked about it for like 2 hours idek but it was great. the point is, we have a bunch of shared interests (which isnt like 100% necessary but its still really nice), wHICH LEADS ME TO: her music taste is amazing and i love that so much bc i love music With My Entire Soul and its the best thing in the fucking world (after cass & my friends and tied with the ocean) but yeah thats great too. AND i think more importantly than the last 2 things is that she is literally so fucking easy to talk to. like ever since the beginning we didnt really have that awkward phase where we run out of things to talk about and the conversation keeps dying like we never had that it just flowed so well and that was such a good feeling. another thing is also how comfortable i feel talking to her.

like i have never felt this way with any of my girlfriends bc i was always scared that i was gonna be annoying or say something Wrong and they’d start to realize i sucked and then break up with me, but shes just so kind and idk she just has this way about her that makes me feel at home and its always been there like i dont believe in love at first sight or anything like that but i swear to god the day after i met her i already felt like i could tell her anything and that was such a comforting thing and i needed that so badly at the time. i dont feel like i was able to describe this aspect very well tbh like im not doing it justice. like, she makes me feel like im not annoying at all, and like i could just randomly start ranting about anything and she would be like super invested in it, and just literally so comfortable in every sense of the word. she is my home, no ifs ands or buts, i just feel it every single time that we talk or that i simply think about her, and i have never felt this so clearly with anyone. and i think this comfort i feel with her is kinda connected with how she has always made me felt so appreciated, in a way that no one has ever done. like, i had like 2 tags about my wants and needs in a relationship, there was “my dream girl” to remind me that i shouldnt settle for anyone after i got out of a rlly bad relationship, and there was “things i wish someone would tell me” after my “first” relationship (i dont really count it bc Officially™ we only dated for a week) because my gf at the time would almost never be affectionate with me and it made me really insecure so i started that tag as a way to vent kinda. anyways my point is that i made those tags bc i would always feel super anxious in my relationships bc i never really felt loved or even wanted (aka the good personalities awful gfs relationships) i just felt like a burden and it was such a big thing for me.

okay now i’ll say that there Kinda was an exception to this before cass, because it would be unfair to say that that relationship was detrimental to my mental health, but it was still different. like, that ex did make me feel wanted most times, but not only did i still have A Lot of insecurities about the whole thing bc of some things she would say and do or not say and not do and i’d get like super uncomfortable or just sad really but also bc whenever the conversation would start to die out i was Absolutely Certain that she was gonna break up with me. it was pretty bad im not even joking. and like ofc my anxiety isnt her fault OR responsibility and like sure i still get anxious about cass sometimes but its not like that its basically just when she doesnt answer for a long time i think that something bad might have happened but even when my rude ass brain does try to tell me that she doesnt love me i KNOW that its not true, and that is a kind of peace that i have never ever had before. but anyways, so that was the good gf whose personality didnt fit mine and its weird now bc that is so obvious but i really didnt wanna believe it at the time even though i knew it wasnt gonna work out, but now its just really weird ngl (but i wont get into the why).

and now cass. wow okay let me tell you about cass. she is perfection. she is literally everything i have ever wanted AND things i didnt even know i wanted. she is everything no one else ever was and i just remembered that when we started dating in may i said that exact same sentence to abby. its just so true, she really is everything that no one else could be. because theyre not her. i’ve said this a lot of times but i really dont see how i could ever love anyone else after loving her, it just doesnt make sense to me because she really is like,, as good as it gets. there is no one better than her for me. we’re literally meant to be i s2g like when we broke up for a while i would tell everyone i wasnt really trying to move on at all bc i just hoped she would come back to me and i couldnt miss that chance. i knew she was my soulmate, although at some points i lost almost all hope (but never all) and i started thinking that maybe she was the love of my life but i wasnt the love of hers. and thats bc she really is everything ive ever dreamed of like she has all these little things that she does or say that sometimes wouldnt even mean anything to other people but to me they are So important bc theyre things ive dreamed about while my ex girlfriends ignored me akcjsjxn like, i was talking about how comfortable she feels to me and a big part of that comes from little things like the fact that even when we were just friends she would spam me when i was gone for a long time and that not only made me feel missed and appreciated but also it meant i could do that to her and it wouldnt be annoying bc she felt the same!! like, she missed me too! and me knowing that she actually Wanted to talk to me and the fact that she actually showed me she cared was super great when we started dating bc it made me feel like if i was feeling sad or insecure, i could literally just ask her to be a little more affectionate and it wouldnt feel fake bc i actually knew she cared. and you have No idea how much that meant to me bc i literally didnt know it was possible for me to feel that way. like honestly i thought it was an innate aspect of who i am that like if i asked for affection it would be meaningless? bc i’d be lowkey forcing the person to say something? but with her it felt different bc we had enough intimacy for me to feel comfortable enough to do that.

HOWEVER i never actually Had to do that bc i got insecure exactly once (1) on the first night we started dating back in may bc i didnt know how much she liked me and i was like in love with her so i thought she would think i was too much and then i told her i was sad and that i was gonna sleep and the next day when i woke up she said something along the lines of “how are you babe bc i remember you said you were sad last night and i couldnt stop thinking about it bc i want you to feel good all the time” and thats something so small but wow it just meant so much to me bc i would cry and beg any fucking force in the universe to make my last ex do Anything At All to try to make me Not Sad and it would be awful and i would feel so so unloved and then cass just said that and something clicked in me and i never doubted her feelings to an actual Meaningful extent while we’ve been together anymore (like ofc i get insecure sometimes and especially when we broke up, but while we have been dating ive never gotten like actually Sad™ specifically bc i wasnt sure she liked me) but it gets even better because some of the things she does are so so special that i never even imagined them like shes literally unreal, i literally never thought someone like her existed and its just so wild to me that i get to be with her.

and i know im saying a bunch of cliches but i mean it all so much like i remember when i was dating one of my exes i was learning her first language but she didnt try to learn mine and i really wished she would bc i just always loved the idea that someone would do that for me?? (and she was like the good gf so yknow,, just how that relationship literally did Not even compare to cass) and guess what yes cass is learning portuguese and its the cutest thing ever btw bUt the point is she does all the little things ive ever wanted in a partner (i literally have a post with a list of things i appreciate in a partner and she does all of them!! well, the ones that arent like irl or smth) also i literally have a draft in this blog that is a list of cute things cass has done/said that means a lot to me personally but i didnt post it yet ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ and like theres just so so many things that i havent talked about, like how im not even sure if i was ever in love with anyone of them anymore because what i feel for cass is just so different and so much more, or like how cass actually makes me want to try to get better, which ive never actually wanted before bc it always seemed to scary, like she literally makes me wanna be not only alive but also happy bc she makes me feel like i deserve it. she has been such a good influence on me and my mental health and thats so important and its the first time someone has been this good for me.

but anyways the point is that cass is right for me in every single way like she really is my other half she literally just is everything that she is and thats how shes different from my ex girlfriends.

#according to my girlfriend i spent over 2 hours writing this #AltHouGh #she DID distract me a few times bc she was being cute #and i love her #wow i love her #i know anon is definitely not gonna read this but my girl will alhajska #mine #answered #anon #luna

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serialfirstdater · 3 years ago

Text

Do I Have a Type??

A close friend of mine brought up something recently when we were messaging each other back and forth on Instagram about dating, boys, the usual.

“I don’t know what your type is,” she said.

I asked her if she was sure. Were there no commonalities with any of the guys I’ve previously dated? She could only give me descriptors of my most recent ex (The Property Lawyer), which obviously did not match the ex before that (The Ex-Actor, whom I never really gave a name to prior on this blog but I’m doing it now for simplicity sakes).

Although she said this in passing, the thought stuck around in my mind. The following day, I visited another friend and caught her up on my dating adventures this past month. She too also said, I didn’t really have a type.

This got me thinking some more as I reflected back on both my exes (minus the shitty first one that I am not gonna even bother including because he was a mistake) and the guys I have been interested in this past month that were also interested in me.

I’m a fan of lists. So, I’m gonna list out each ex’s qualities and their physical attributes.

Exes

The Ex-Actor (Second Ex)

Physical Attributes: 5′10, normal body, baby-face, boyish charms, the only Caucasian on this list whilst everyone else is Chinese.

Personality/Qualities: Selfless, generous, agreeable, realist, a listener, slight goofball, lovable, introverted, thoughtful, and doting. Can be awkward upon first meet though lol.

Interests: History, space, camping, and indie pop.

Notes: I have to point out that this relationship always had an expiry date since he asked me out after I applied for my Australian visa. Therefore we never got too deep. So, it’s hard for me to point out the flaws in him because when we were dating, he had none. I was happy to spend time with him, doing whatever. He was the first person to truly give me what I always wanted in a relationship. Til this day, I still have a very soft spot for him. I tell everyone, he’s probably the only person that can potentially deter me from my future plans (unless we properly date and realize we are actually incompatible). However, a part of me don’t think so and I feel like he was the one I let go and my heart still never fully healed after 2.5 years. I plan to treasure the necklaces and card he gave me forever.

(From Future Me: I originally drafted this post up about 3-4 weeks ago. I tried shooting my shot with the Ex-Actor two weeks ago and he never replied. Although I was bummed, I had a feeling he was respecting the current relationship that he is in and didn’t want to complicate things. I respect that and honestly him not answering was enough of an answer for me. I no longer have to fantasize about what-ifs and torture myself over and over with the spirals of my thoughts. I didn’t know if he was still seeing someone hence why I reached out. His best friend/my friend later confirmed he’s still with his girlfriend (which I assumed was the case). I feel that a weight has lifted and I am in a much better spot mentally now. I honestly couldn’t get him out of my head from October 2020 to the beginning of June 2021. And yes, I was thinking of him when I was still with the Property Lawyer. I didn’t want to be but sometimes the mind works in funny ways and you just gotta deal. Either way, I hope he’s incredibly happy cause he deserves it).

The Property Lawyer (Third and latest Ex)

Physical Attributes: 6′, normal body weight (though previously ripped in his younger days), could be a side-character in some Chinese historical drama if he wanted to be looks-wise without his glasses (but my friend said he’s goofy-looking LOL).

Personality/Qualities: Extroverted, enthusiastic, entertainer, creative, generous, always affirming, low-pain tolerance, messy, wishy-washy, selfish, afraid to wastes time, easily stressed, doesn’t like when things are seemingly difficult, and one of my friends thought he had a subtle cocky vibe to him.

Interests: Magic, singing, playing instruments (guitar, piano, drums), creating films, hanging out with friends, and acting.

Notes: The Property Lawyer always made sure to take care of me throughout the entire relationship. He was happy to give me whatever I wanted (though by this point, it was no longer as new to me because of the Ex-Actor). Since we were long-distance for 1.5 years out of the 1 year 9 months we were together, we never got the full experience of dating each other. However, I did get to see his flaws here and there (hence the bigger list of negative traits) but it never really blew up until the very end when he broke up with me. Despite the way things ended, he still made sure to take care of the things that were most important to me because he knew what he was signing up for when he started to date me. (So bless his heart for sending all my things back and paying $4k for it). He was easily irritated and I did see that show up when we were trying to sort how to get my things back.

My Analysis Between Both Exes

I realized in the shower one day that the key difference between the two exes was the fact that the Ex-Actor is selfless whereas the Property Lawyer is selfish. I think this is key to why I have been so mentally and emotionally attached to the Ex-Actor. Everything he did, he did because he wanted me to be happy. Even at the end of that relationship, he kept telling me that he wanted me to live my best life abroad and that no guy should ever hold me back from my dreams.

Whereas with the Property Lawyer, at the end of that relationship, he told me one of the things he regretted was letting me go. Even in his card that he wrote to me, he said that he will always welcome me back as a friend and someone who will support him. As you can see, there’s a stark difference between the end of both relationships.

Quick Break-Downs of 2021 Dates (Thus Far)

This is just a break-down of the guys I have been interested in since I went back on the dating apps at the end of April 2021 after I found out the Property Lawyer found someone new to date after breaking up with me.

The Alumni: chubbier boy, good listener, a bit of a pessimist, easily triggered by dumb people, loves golf, hiking and his cat (and willing to buy my food or bubble tea each time :D)

The Historian: average weight, a bit old-school, enthusiastic, academic, extroverted, couldn’t have sex with someone he was not 100% romantically invested in. We also had conflicting values on what to expect from dating and he didn’t believe in paying for meals as expected each time when it comes to dates.

The Music Teacher: surprisingly fit, good listener, inquisitive, and... I think that’s all I can come up for this guy cause we only video-called once. Randomly ghosted and blocked me when I was asking simple questions about his previous relationships (which he simply could’ve said he didn’t want to talk about if he wasn’t comfortable but I only asked because I shared everything about my relationship with him). So in the end, not so great cause who tf does that (I find that to be either insecure or you are awful at communication).

Conclusion

Yeah, I don’t have a type. LOL. Simply someone I am attracted to at least mildly at first and most importantly, willing to indulge me in my Love Language. I’ve been interested in both extroverted and introverted personalities. Guys that are super sociable with friends or not much at all (but still need to at least have friends lol). I’m basically cool with anyone as long as they like me back basically. So, tell me in person what kind of guy do you think I will end up with the next time you see me based on my personality and how much you know me!

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ragehappysecretsanta · 7 years ago

Text

Author: http://tiikeria.tumblr.com

Recipient: http://sassycatsart.tumblr.com

Summary: He watched the words slowly and haltingly appear, before slowly fading, never comprehending their meaning. How could he, when he couldn’t read them? They meant no more to him than if someone simply scribbled on his skin.

Warnings: Mentions of past child neglect, mentions of blood

Word Count: 5,715 words

When the first words appeared on his arm, he was fourteen. They were scribbly and clumsy, very much the writing of a child just learning to write. He watched the words slowly and haltingly appear, before slowly fading, never comprehending their meaning. How could he, when he couldn’t read them? They meant no more to him than if someone simply scribbled on his skin.

He was fourteen in rural Georgia, a child the system forgot. He never went to school. He never learned to understand the words he saw around him. They never wanted to spend the money to send him to school. Not when they could buy booze and drugs and all the vices they could ever want.

He was the child they never wanted. And he knew it.

But, never, in his fourteen years, did he so desperately want to know what words said. He knew why the words appeared on his arm; it was one of the only good things they taught him. They were the words of his soulmate. A way of communicating between them until they could finally meet.

More scribbling words appeared, and he recognized a question mark ending the sentence, standing starkly against his skin. He was being asked a question. A question he couldn’t answer. His eyes squeezed shut, pulling his arm to his chest like he had been physically injured, feeling far more lonely than he ever had.

The words faded. And his skin stayed as blank as it had been every day before.

He was seventeen when a different hand graced his skin. A year short of being able to leave his prison of loneliness and pain. And on his skin was the writing of a child, different yet similar to that day three years ago. He recognized the word now, the innocent question of ‘Hello?’. And he scrambled to get a pen, to finally respond. His knowledge of words were limited, but he had to try.

He froze when another’s writing appeared next to the first. The letters were less clumsy now, but still the same scribbly shape. And it took his rather frazzled brain a moment to realize there were two people writing to him. Not one, but two. Two soulmates. It had to be a joke. He didn’t expect one, let alone two. But, yet, the conversation had continued on his arm, and he realized they had no idea. They didn’t know he even existed.

So he did the only thing he could. He drew a little heart. And he watched the ink sink into his skin, to be replaced with more words he didn’t quite understand. But he caught names. He had names.

‘Gavin.’ read the scribbly hand from before.

‘Jeremy.’ said the newest.

And he so desperately wanted to write his own name. To join them, to show them that their was a third to their connection. But he stopped before he could get the pen to his arm. They wouldn’t want him, would they? No one else ever had. He was broken, wasn’t he? He could barely read. Barely write. He was silent.

As the words continued to flow on his skin, he lowered the pen. It was for the best, wasn’t it? They…they would be happier this way.

That didn’t mean he didn’t watch. That he didn’t try to learn. Even as he stole what he could from his parents, gathered up his meager belongings on his eighteenth birthday, and used the money from pawning what he could to hitchhike his way from Georgia to the only city he could afford.

Los Santos, California was a dirty, gritty, crime-ridden hellhole where cops were as crooked as the criminals they chased. What else was there for an eighteen-year-old who never learned anything of use? He used his last few dollars to buy a mask, a cheap latex thing whose smell made him nearly gag the first time he pulled it on. A black skull grinned back at him from the mirror in the little beachside stall.

A skull that would become the symbol of a silent monster.

But, for now, it was the only thing keeping this scared, silent teen from being caught. From ending up in jail for theft. He started with small convenience stores, brandishing a hunting knife and gesturing to the register, the teens, not much younger than himself, shaking as they threw what they could into a plastic bag.

It was normally just enough for him to buy something to eat, to make his complaining stomach content for one night.

Eventually, he graduated from a knife to a scratched pistol, one that definitely wasn’t legal, not that he cared. It did the job far better than the knife did.

He stole a jacket from a thrift store when the winds were cold. A leather one, far nicer than anything he ever had before. Blue on the shoulders, silver wrapping around his wrists and upper arms, black down the rest.

Somewhere along the way he picked up a moniker or two, little names the cops liked to call him. Black Skull was one. The Ghost was another. But, by far his favorite, was the one that fit him the best. Vagabond. He wore his new name with a dark sense of pride.

The first time he killed, it was because he was paid to. It was good money, and an easy hit. Some minor dealer who had screwed over someone with more money than sense. It was quick and clean, though his conscience begged to differ on the last point. Clean wasn’t the word he would use to describe how he felt anymore.

But the money finally allowed him to rent an apartment. A tiny studio in a shitty neighborhood, but, for the first time, the Vagabond had a home of his own.

The words still appeared on his skin. Entire conversations he was slowly learning. Words he finally understood. But, still, he never joined in. He never added his own writing to the mix, though, sometimes, it would all become too much and he would draw a little doodle. A desperate attempt to be recognized. He never was.

It was for the best, he told himself. Not only was he broken, now, but he was also a wanted man. A criminal. They didn’t deserve that, did they?

Sometimes, he liked to pretend everything was different. He liked to think about the what ifs. What it would be like to have someone care. Not just someone, though, but a soulmate. Or two. He wondered what it would be like to have someone there to gently bandage up his wounds, to tell him he was an idiot for doing what he did.

He always woke up.

That was the hardest part. Waking up to reality. Realizing his life would never be like he dreamt it to be. And it only served to make him colder. Far more bitter. And as the years progressed, so did his progression into the depths of apathy. As his kill count rose, so did the numb feeling gripping his chest.

By the time he was in this thirties, The Vagabond was a name known in infamy. He had moved past the tiny rundown studio into an apartment among the rich and famous of Vinewood. They never knew the quiet and reserved neighbor next door was a killer. A monster without a conscience. At least, not a conscience he showed.

The words had stopped. And he accepted that maybe, just maybe, they had found each other. That they were happy. That, or the dark part of him, the pessimist, figured one was dead. He kept a hold on the optimistic part of him, the last bit of good he could find in himself. They were happy, he told himself every night his arm stayed blank, they were happy. Without him. And it was for the best.

He was 36 when he was approached by a man with a reputation as terrifying as his own. Geoff Ramsey was not a man to be taken lightly, even if he did regard you with amused ease. He could tell that this man wasn’t as laid back as he seemed and was every bit as dangerous as he, himself, was. But Ramsey wasn’t there to kill him. Or to hire him, necessarily. At least, not in the way he was used to.

“We could use your kind of manpower, Vagabond,” Ramsey was saying, small smirk on his face as he spoke, his second-in-command, Pattillo, regarding him warily. He was used to that. He wasn’t quite used to the nonchalance Ramsey was projecting, “Your skills are legendary. And we have a few jobs coming up that we could really use you for.”

He stayed silent, as he ways did, sizing Ramsey up as if trying to determine what his best course of action could be. He knew of the jobs the Fake AH Crew pulled. Things of spectacle, more for the adrenaline than for the take, though they millions they gathered certainly wasn’t something to bat an eye at.

He was a simple man. A simple man of simple jobs. Get in, kill, get out, get paid. That was his life.

But he had been getting bored. It was too easy anymore. Too easy to shoot a gun or slit a throat. And, maybe, this is what he needed. A change.

He stared at Ramsey, long enough for Pattillo to get antsy, her movements tense. But never once did Ramsey waver, the smirk ever present as he weighed his options. And finally, finally he decided.

With a sharp nod, he found himself riding with Ramsey and Pattillo to another location. Not their main base of operations, not just yet, which he found to be fair. After all, he hadn’t proven himself to them just yet, if he even chose to do so.

And it was in the lounge room of that secondary base that his whole world spun. He knew there was something about the man in purple and orange harassing the man dressed in clothing more expensive than his apartment. There was something, he knew. And his instincts were rarely wrong.

“Vagabond,” Ramsey — Geoff as he told him to call him — said, gesturing to not only the two on the couch, but a man lounging in one of the chairs, watching him with narrowed eyes, “This is the main crew. That’s Michael,” Geoff motioned to the man in the chair before motioning at the duo on the couch, staring at him with wide eyes.

“And these two assholes are Gavin and Jeremy.”

He felt his stomach turn to lead. It couldn’t be, could it? They were common names, but what were the chances? The chances that he would find two together. No, he was thinking too hard on this, getting his hopes up too high. It wasn’t them. It couldn’t be them.

Despite his inner turmoil, his face stayed blank behind the mask, never letting them see what he really felt.

“Uh…hi,” Jeremy spoke finally, Gavin seeming to hide behind him, peeking out to regard Vagabond with a mix of fear and interest, “Welcome to the shitshow, I guess?”

He wanted to laugh; instead he gave them an awkward wave, arm dropping after a moment. Michael was still staring, calculating, even as Jeremy and Gavin seemed to realize he wasn’t entirely a threat. At least, not at this point.

“Jesus, the stories don’t fucking lie, do they? You are quiet as shit,” Michael finally spoke, Vagabond turning his head to regard him, even as Michael continued, “What, you don’t talk at all?”

He decided to humor the bravery. Stupid bravery, but bravery none-the-less. He shook his head slowly. That seemed to pique the interest of the others, Gavin finally speaking to him, a surprising British lilt to his voice.

“Wait, really? Is it that you can’t? Or just don’t like to?”

He hesitated for a moment. He absolutely could speak, physically at least. But mental scars were just as powerful as physical ones, and so he held up one finger, allowing them to take a moment to realize what it meant.

“Oh. So you can’t,” Jeremy realized first, a simultaneous chorus of ‘oh’ following his words, “Alright, fair enough. That sucks, but we can work with it.”

Somehow, just that little acceptance meant more to him than anything else ever did.

Geoff hadn’t been lying when he said they had jobs coming up; he hadn’t expected that “coming up” meant in two days. Then again, he’d done jobs in a quicker turnaround, that’s not what was concerning to him. He could do it, he knew, as Geoff explained his role as their tank and intimidation man.

What was concerning was when they tried to figure out how they would communicate with him.

“Obviously, you’ll have an earpiece, so you can hear us. But we need a way for you to be able to talk to us in return,” Geoff mused, cocking his head in thought. Vagabond knew what was coming. He knew what they would suggest.

“What about text?” Jack supplied, as he knew she would, and he felt the burn of humiliation flare in his gut. Something, despite his carefully crafted facade, must have shown on his face, and, to his horror, Geoff tossed a pad of paper at him, followed closely by a pen.

“Since you look like you hate that idea, how about you tell us how you want this to go.”

Slowly, he lifted the pad and pen, staring at it for a moment, wondering if he could bullshit his way out of this. But with all eyes on him, he wrote the only explanation he could, turning the pad once he lowered the pen. His gaze was fixed firmly on the chipboard back of the legal pad as the room felt silent, reading the two words he managed to write out.

“You…you can’t read?” Gavin was the first to get over his shock, and he could feel the burning gazes on him as he refused to meet their eyes, “How do you not know how to read?”

He picked up the pad again and wrote out two more words: ‘never school’.

Geoff sat back, surprise plain on his face, “You never went to school? What the fuck, really?”

A mournful nod answered his question and Geoff ran a hand through his already messy hair. He turned the pad back and wrote a final word, hoping his sincerity shone though even the mask.

‘Sorry’.

“Shit, dude. I doubt it’s your fault. But that’s fucking shitty. I mean, it looks like you know a bit. You teach yourself, buddy?”

He nodded, something like relief in his chest that he wasn’t being mocked or, god forbid, pitied.

“What about hand gestures? Could we do that? Like, come up with shit he could use?” Michael piped up, and Vagabond blinked. They still wanted to work with him? Despite the fact he couldn’t talk or read or write?

“Michael, that’s brilliant, Michael!” Gavin bounced in his seat, grinning widely. Geoff hummed thoughtfully, though it seemed like Jack still had doubts.

“We’ll have to keep eyes on him at all times, though.”

“I can be his voice, yeah?” Gavin offered, “I’ll be watching you on the cameras anyway, so as long as he makes the motions at the cameras, I can translate.”

Geoff nodded, seeming appeased, “Alright, if he’s okay with it, we can do that. Whaddya say, buddy? Will that work?”

Vagabond hesitated before nodding, still surprised they were willing to go this far for him. They didn’t even know him, but they knew his skills. And that’s what they wanted, wasn’t it? Anything to make this work.

So, they set up a series of gestures for him to use to mean everything from ‘cops are coming’ to ‘you’re an asshole’. That last one was specifically for Gavin, created by Michael, who only laughed when Gavin sputtered his offense.

To his surprise, it worked like a charm. Gavin was in his ear, relaying his signals to everyone else. And the crew, he found, worked together like a well-oiled machine. Despite their playful arguing and ribbing, they worked well together when they needed to. Of course, they still had their fun, teasing and kidding and playfully fighting; it wouldn’t be them without it. He learned that quickly, and he found it a refreshing change to his normal humorless clients.

Gavin had drinks ready for them the moment they burst through the safe house door, laughing and cheering, far too much money in the bags they carried. They turned on the TV, laughing at the scrambling police being reported by Weasel News, the reports saying they had disappeared as they normally did.

Vagabond felt himself grin under the latex, having had far more fun than he had in years, the adrenaline thrumming through his veins welcome after the guilt that normally plagued his jobs.

“Drinks for everyone! Except Skeletor over there. Someone get him a Diet,” Geoff crowed as he tossed down his duffel bag, catching the Diet thrown to him as well.

For the first time in years, he felt relaxed and welcome among people. Enough so he did something he hadn’t done since he bought it: he pulled the mask off in front of someone.

He was fully aware of the stunned silence the move had ushered in, and he preoccupied himself with his drink instead, not looking at anyone. At least, until Geoff swore and pulled out his wallet to throw a hundred at Jeremy, the others following suit with a grumble.

He stared at Jeremy, raising an eyebrow in question as he pocketed his newly acquired winnings. And Jeremy at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“We, uh, had a bet. About what you looked like. I said you looked like a normal guy. Gavin said you had at least one scar. The others said you had to be hiding something. So, uh, thanks for not having scars or tattoos on your face, dude.”

He let out a snort of amusement, shaking his head, shooting Jeremy a thumbs up.

“Oh, shit, dude, you got him to laugh,” Michael exclaimed, a laugh in his own voice. Vagabond shot him an amused look, smirk on his lips.

Yeah, he liked these people. They didn’t take themselves seriously. They were misfits in their own right, weren’t they? But they didn’t care. They didn’t care what the outside world said about them, or thought about them. They were content to be themselves, even if that meant they were criminals.

For the first time, he didn’t feel so alone.

The drinks loosened their tongues, making them laugh and talk and lowering their inhibitions. And he watched them tease and fight and play around with each other, Jeremy and Michael arm wrestling, Michael losing all three times he tried. Geoff, of course, goaded it on with his infectious laughter. And Gavin, his little voice in his ear, had settled quite close, grinning widely at the chaos.

Then he seemed to make a discovery, “Vagabond. You’re not scary at all, Vagabond!”

He turned his head to give Gavin an ‘oh really?’ kind of gaze. The others had quieted to watch the exchange in interest.

“I mean, you can do scary stuff, yeah? But you’re not scary at all! Unless…” Gavin seemed to think for a moment, “Unless, you have a scary name. I mean, your name isn’t Vagabond, right?”

“Yes, Gavin, the guy’s name is actually Vagabond,” Jeremy deadpanned, flopping down next to Gavin, almost as if he was going to try and distract Gavin from asking any more questions. But he was feeling grateful, really. Enough that he figured why not?

He grabbed a pad of paper again, surprising the rest of them, writing the first thing he ever learned to write. His name.

‘James Ryan’ he wrote, a little underline under Ryan. He always hated being called James, the name he associated with pain and neglect. He handed the little pad to Jeremy and Gavin, Jeremy reading it off to the rest of the room.

“James Ryan. Emphasis on the Ryan, huh?” Ryan nodded, smiling sheepishly. Gavin was watching him with far more intent than before, as if he was trying to figure out yet another revelation.

“You look like a Ryan,” he finally proclaimed, Ryan snorting again, giving him another amused look.

“So, are you telling us all this because you’re planning on murdering us, or what?” Geoff raised an eyebrow, equal parts amused and worried.

It didn’t help when all Ryan did was give him an innocent smile.

The next job went without a hitch as well. And so did the next. And the one after that. Six months after Geoff had first come to him, Ryan found himself officially part of the Fake AH Crew. Being part of a crew had never seemed like something he could have ever had, but here he was, shoving Gavin off the couch so he could sit, if just to hear the squawking he made as he landed on the floor, Jeremy laughing despite himself.

That was something else he discovered within weeks of joining the crew. Jeremy and Gavin were dating, soulmates according to Jack. Much like her and Geoff were. And Michael and Lindsay, one of the B-Team who kept the crew running smoothly.

And Ryan had very little doubt any more that this was the same Gavin and Jeremy whose words graced his skin once upon a time. Despite everything, though, he still couldn’t bring himself to tell them. To show them that he was part of them, too. They were so happy, he saw it every time they were together. Part of him was glad he had been right, that they had found each other. But the other part longed for them to love him, too.

But they never would. Because they would never know. Right?

Then, bless them, they came to them with a determination he had seen before, a plan forming in their minds that he could only go along with.

“We want to teach you to read, Ryan,” Jeremy spoke one day, surprising him, “It’s not fair you never got to learn and we wanna fix it.”

His expression read ‘seriously?’, an eyebrow raised in question. They could read him so well anymore.

“We do! We want to teach you, Ryan. Please let us, yeah?” Gavin asked brightly, his enthusiasm infectious as Ryan let out a sigh, exasperated but accepting.

“Is that a yes?”

He nodded.

And that’s how he started sitting with Gavin and Jeremy every other night, kids’ workbooks open on his lap, listening as they pointed out words, and taught him what they sounded like, how to write them out, what they meant. And while there were moments where he wanted to throw the damn workbook across the room, the proud smiles he would receive when he managed to learn something kept him going.

For months they continued like this. Ryan learning quickly, Michael teaching him a few words the workbooks didn’t, Ryan able to call Jeremy an asshole when he laughed about something. Of course, they yelled at Michael for it, not that Michael actually gave a shit. Ryan just liked being able to finally write ‘fuck you’.

In the summer heat, they sat on the patio of the Penthouse, whiteboards in hand, practicing Ryan’s writing and sentence structure, occasionally correcting his spelling. And it was this night, in the dying light of the Southern California sun, that he was almost exposed. That they almost discovered what they meant to him. And what he didn’t mean to them.

It was playful, he knew, when Jeremy wrote something on his arm, meant for just Gavin to see. But he felt the ink rise on his own arm, and he tried to hide it. Tried to keep it out of view. But Gavin was more observant than most people gave him credit for. He was also curious. Very curious.

“Ryan, what was on your arm, Ryan?”

If he spoke, he absolutely would have been swearing right then. Instead he just shook his head, arm still under the table, even if he knew the ink was gone. They couldn’t know. They were happy, and he wasn’t about to ruin it.

“Ryan, was that a message from your soulmate?” Jeremy asked quietly, something almost upset in his voice. That made Ryan pause, if only for a moment. He couldn’t lie to them. He couldn’t. So all he did was nod, slow and small, cradling his arm to his chest like it had been burned. There was something in both their gazes, something he couldn’t pinpoint but almost seemed like disappointment.

But why would they be disappointed?

“What are they like?” Gavin asked quietly, Ryan shrugging in response. He couldn’t very well tell them, could he. It wasn’t lying, right?

Gavin looked quite confused at his shrug, “You’ve never talked to them? Written back?”

Ryan shook his head, their confusion deepening.

“But you can now. So why don’t you?” Jeremy’s voice was soft and concerned, “Surely you want to know about them?”

And Ryan looked away, something aching in his chest, shaking his head and writing on the board as best he could, ‘It’s better this way.’

They didn’t talk about it again, but it seemed like it had driven a wedge between him and Gavin and Jeremy. And it hurt. But he was no stranger to hurt, to being rejected. They continued the lessons, but it was as if there was a wall between them, and Ryan had no idea how to get back though.

But it was for the best, wasn’t it?

Then it all went wrong in the form of an ill-timed and ill-placed grenade. It had been fine until their target figured out what was about to happen. Then it all went to hell. Ryan was no stranger to firefights; he had seen his fair share, after all.

But explosives is where the plan fell apart. Michael had rigged the warehouse to blow once they were done, a final ‘fuck you’ to this nuisance of a gang. They just didn’t expect this gang to have as much firepower as they did. But, yet, here they were.

They were running for the door when the grenade hit the floor. Far too close to one of Michael’s hidden charges. And at the back of the line, it wasn’t like his gestures were going to be of much use.

So he did the only thing he could.

“Run!“

The crew didn’t hesitate to bolt for the door, despite the voice, hoarse and rough and deep, wasn’t one they recognized. It was only once they heard the beginnings of the explosions, the sight of half of the warehouse crumbling mere feet from them, that they realized to whom the voice belonged.

And he wasn’t there.

Under the debris of concrete and steel and dust, Ryan choked out painful gasps, the feeling of blood trickling down his skin, the feeling of being trapped nearly overwhelming him. But, beyond the ringing in his ears, he thought he could hear yelling. His name echoing from the dust. His mouth felt dry and his throat on fire, but he still had one way of telling them. Of letting them know he was still there.

Through his limited movement he managed to pull the pen from his jacket pocket. His jacket was ripped just enough he could get to his arm; wiping away the dust and blood, he began to write.

“Gavin! Gavin, look,” Jeremy’s yelling had caused them all to stop in their desperate searching, but Jeremy wasn’t looking in the rubble, but at his arm. And from where Geoff could see Gavin’s bare arm, ink had started to appear, small and halting, but there.

‘I’m sorry I never told you. You were happy. Thank you for everything. - Ryan’

For a moment, it seemed like the world stopped. Their breath caught in their chests; this was his goodbye. A goodbye to not just the soulmates he never got to truly have, but to the crew who accepted him despite it all.

And they would be damned if this was going to be it.

“We’re going to find you, you fucker, and I’m going to kick your ass personally!” Geoff howled to the rubble, his digging renewed, heaving chunks of concrete away. They all started digging once more, but not before Jeremy wrote back.

‘Don’t you die on us now, fucker. We’re getting you out of here.’

It was the last thing Ryan remembered seeing.

There were blurs, there was pain, there were gentle voices, there were soft hands. If this is what death felt like, then he was alright with it. It was quiet and gentle and warm and safe. He thought he could see sunlight. He thought he could hear quiet words telling him he’d be okay. He felt numb, but it was so much better than the burning, choking pain from before.

He awoke to the dying light of a setting sun shining though the partially drawn blinds on his bedroom windows. His bedroom. He was in the Penthouse. He was alive. And he wasn’t alone.

“Ryan? Ryan, you awake?” Jeremy sounded close, and as his head lolled to the side, his blurry vision found not just Jeremy, but Gavin as well, watching him with a tired sort of hope, “You with us?”

Slowly, Ryan nodded, fingers folding around the hand in his; Gavin’s if he was right, soft and warm.

“God, Ryan, you…you gave us a scare. We…we thought we were too late when we found you,” Gavin’s voice was shaking, upset and Ryan squeezed just a bit more, “You were so damn still. We only realized you…you were still alive when you cried out. But, even then…Jesus…”

“I’m…sorry…,” the words were halting, pained, but still there. And both Gavin and Jeremy seemed to stop, surprise in their gazes, but pleased grins splitting their lips.

“It was you…in the warehouse. You spoke. Just…just like now,” Jeremy was smiling widely, their worry melting into glee at something so simple as his voice. No one had ever been so happy to hear him speak. He smiled shyly back, nodding just a bit.

“Didn’t…want you guys…getting hurt…”

Gavin reached over to give him a gentle swat to the head, “Yet you thought it was fine for you to get hurt?”

Ryan shrugged, apologetic smile on his lips. Gavin sighed, “You’re a damn donut.”

“I think there’s something else we need to talk about with you, Ryan,” Jeremy had grown serious again, voice gentle. He felt his heart leap to his throat, nervousness gripping his entire being.

“Do you still think it’s for the best that we don’t know?” there was something so sad in the way Jeremy said it, “That we’d be happier without you?”

Ryan looked away, letting out a soft sigh, “You were happy…I didn’t…want to ruin that…I know…I know I’m not worth much…”

“Bullshit.“ Gavin said it with such force that Ryan actually jumped, started gaze on Gavin’s pained face, “That’s bullshit, Ryan. You’re worth the damn world. And it’s awful that no one ever told you that.”

He didn’t want to get his hopes up. He didn’t want to be disappointed again. But God he wanted to believe they actually thought that. That they honestly thought so much of him, the silent, illiterate mercenary from Georgia, who never had anyone listen to a word he ever said. Until now.

“You don’t believe us, do you?” Trust Jeremy to see right through him.

“It’s…hard to believe.”

“Then…,” Jeremy sounded as nervous as Ryan felt, licking his lips, “Will you…let us show you?”

He cocked his head, hope building a painful bubble in his chest, “Show me?”

“Well, you are our soulmate, yeah?” Gavin had returned to a soft, almost shy smile as he squeezed Ryan’s larger hand, “Will you allow us to finally take our place as such?”

“You…you actually…want to be?”

“Of course! Jesus, Ryan, of course we do! Fuck, it nearly wrecked us when we realized you had a soulmate that may not have been us.”

It finally dawned on him why they had seemed so disappointed that night. Why they had raised the wall. Because they had come to care too much. They had been protecting themselves as much as Ryan had been.

It only took him a moment to decide.

“If…if you’ll have me…”

He let out a soft ‘oof’ as the two tumbled into the bed with him, pulling him into the warmest hug he had ever received, still wary of his injuries, not that he cared about those, despite the burning pain they caused. Instead, he focused on the arms around him, the joyful giggling in his ear as his own arms slowly wrapped around each of them. And as the giggling died down, they had one more question to softly ask of him.

“Ryan? Can…can we kiss you, Ryan?”

He let out a soft laugh, nodding with a shy smile.

Gavin’s lips were soft as they connected with his, a gentle hand cupping his cheek. His eyes slipped closed as something inside him settled. It was something he never knew he needed, that sweet kiss Gavin gave him.

He only had a moment between Gavin pulling back and Jeremy closing in. And if he thought he was content after Gavin’s kiss, it was as if the entire world was right when Jeremy’s lips were on his. It was soft and sweet and warm and perfect, being in their arms like he was. For the first time in his life, he felt like he had finally found where he belonged.

And later, among the crew, he would lift a pen, and do something he should have done years ago, when he was a seventeen year old trapped in a house of no love. When the hello he understood appeared on his left arm.

He wrote back.

#Ragehappy #Freewood #tiikeria #sassycatsart #rhss17

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