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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Text

trials

this takes place in my ‘poly frontier’ universe

pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Francisco “Catfish Morales, Ben “Benny” Miller and a female reader

wordcount: 2.1k

warnings: all fics in this series are 18+, poly relationship, domestic, romantic, and sexual intimacy. strong language, angst with a happy ending

summary: this one is a Santi story - he tries to bring another girl into the relationship, and learns instead how much he loves you

it wont be everyone's cup of tea but I felt like it was an important part of the story

note: don’t hate Santi! I think this is a pretty normal, and the best sunsets come after rain

Santi was the first to branch out. He didn’t mean to – hated himself for it a little, but he did.

This – whatever this is, it’s a ticking time bomb, he told Will. One of has to do something before it breaks all of our hearts.

It was a lie.

They both knew it. But he had the money and the looks and the confidence and he was just hurt enough by the sight of you asleep in Ben’s lap one afternoon that he just… let it get to him.

Brooded and boiled until he was overcome with false righteousness and pure selfishness.

He didn’t look you in the eyes when he told you he was going to try to get another girl. It wasn’t that he was leaving what you all had, just that he deserved a chance at whatever he called balance. His gaze in the other men’s eyes was too bold – the look of a desperate man, terrified of being hurt so causing it on his own terms.

You nodded numbly, shocked in spite of yourself, scolding and scathing voices in your mind telling you not to be selfish. Not to be greedy.

He deserves more than sharing.

Tucking yourself into Frankie’s arms, you tried not to glare or cry and only failed at the latter. Because it’s not the dating another girl that hurt, really it’s not. Polyamory is hard, and it was always an open option. What hurts is his blatant choice to ignore the relationship his has with you, specifically, that he’s ignoring everything you and him have worked for, built with love and time and care.

Rubbing gentle hands over your skin, Will and Frankie and Ben shared looks as Santi stalks away.

Frankie corners him in the garage the next morning. You had slept between him and Will the night before, but they had all felt you toss and turn, all spent a fair amount of time staring at the ceiling themselves. His dark eyes are an insecure that shoots into Frankie’s core – it’s a look he knows, has spent months overcoming. He swallows hard, his words dying in his throat, and he simply shakes his head.

It almost breaks Santi in two, the first moment one of his loves betrays the damage he’s done, but he tells himself there’s no going back.

“Better now than later, when our parents hate her or –”

Frankie’s look stops him and he flinches away.

Will is at the bar he chooses without an invite, knowing where he’d be without having to even ask and they both try not to think of you at home with Ben, probably dripping flames. Santi wonders if it hurts more to watch him flirt, or to do it, but neither of them say a word to each other. In spite of it all, the respect his judgement, respect his choice, and that hurts too.

It feels strange to have others looking him up and down and to look back, smile with lust void of love and soak in the attention.

Before he succumbs to it, Santi wishes Will would come over, slide his hand around his neck and… stop respecting him so much. It would pull him back, but since he doesn’t, the thought dies under the burn of cheap alcohol.

She’s lovely, really, graceful like a cat.

Santi has kept her from you all for a few weeks now, keeping his dignity with distance. But now she’s here, in your home, and you should be jealous but instead you just smile sadly at her, and slip off to the kitchen.

He likes… coffee, dark roast, with just a clump of raw sugar. You’re stirring it when you realize they followed you, hovering at the door. The ache of it is less than it was before and they’re happy together, so for his sake, you sit down across from her.

She’s kind, friendly. Knows the gist of the situation, tells you she’ll go at your pace.

And it crashes into you, how he’s pinned you at a time when know one else is home, offering her up to you like a plea, a child who used the superglue to make a gift, never mind the fact that his hands are both stuck to it and burning.

It feels reasonable to have another woman around, to make the numbers less absurd, to – to help you. Her smile is a little shy and she takes you hand and she looks at Santi with such adoration that a knot loosens in your chest involuntarily.

She doesn’t joke about it, any of it, and you almost wish she would. It would be so much easier to hate her if she was shallow, or stupid, or something but she’s not, and when she smiles you almost think you could be friends. You wonder if you could make it work, like they do for you.

Ben and Will come home early, stepping in like the angels they are, planting themselves solid at your side like trees with roots deeper than they are tall. When Frankie comes home, he takes the spot of the two of them as their eyes draw Santi into another room.

“What the fuck, Garcia,” Benny is as hurt as you are by it all, maybe more.

“Shut up Miller.” He’s glaring, filled with venomous satisfaction at how well the two of you have been talking.

“Cant you see it’s for the better?”

There’s silence – neither of them agree, too confused by him to respond.

“Don’t you ever wonder,” Santi tries again, knowing they’re listening because they love him too.

“No.” They spoke in unison, which makes Will roll his eyes. Neither of them hesitate, and something in Santi cracks.

You poke holes in the bottom of a styrofoam container with a plastic fork. She’s long gone now, but the date still lingers as you poke at your leftovers and try to unwind each moment of the date like strings of spaghetti.

On the surface it had gone well, you had thought you had fun until you felt a burn of tears under your eyelids.

Closing them you sigh, breathing like you practiced, gentle tides of love and logic washing over a feelings you tell yourself are selfish.

When you open your eyes, your Santi is standing behind her chair, and you almost cant breathe.

He went away for two weeks to help with a mission, and he’s here, one side of his mouth higher than the other. You want to kiss it, but you smile instead, and say, “You missed her by a couple minutes, sorry,” and actually mean it.

“I caught her in the parking lot,” he sits slowly, carefully, and when he reaches for your hands it’s almost tentative. It makes you blink again, how his eyebrows are bending. For the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t understand what it means, cant predict at all what he says next.

“I broke it off,” his eyes are in yours.

“I don’t understand,” you hear yourself say.

Santi searches for the words, like he had them but cant make them come out of his mouth.

“She’s not you,” he says. “I want you.”

You realize with a start that his hand is trembling, and he says your name in a way you’ve never heard before – like he’s terrified. That’s how badly he wants this, wants.. you. There’s no question in your mind, your eyes answer him.

It’s messy, not like a movie, the way he tugs you up and up and into his arms, the shudder of his broad shoulders and he buries himself into you as much as he can.

Like a hazy, blurry dream, your arms find their way around him, holding him like he’s fragile, another first.

He doesn’t say You’re enough for me, or You deserve the world, or anything dramatic.

Instead he says, “Can I buy you dinner?” And, “I’m sorry,” and “It’s been too long.”

And he says “I love you.”

He already asked the others, calling them each on his drive to you. Asked like he was young, if it was okay. Santi knew none of them had fallen in love with her, because even he hadn’t. But he had to ask for their permission as much as yours, to try to win you back.

They were more guarded than you, wary of his passion.

It takes time, and work.

He stays up later than he should talking with Benny about everything and nothing, hands nervously putting together snacks. When the younger man holds you, Santi teaches himself to join, to be held and hold you both. It feels good, which feels like guilt.

He works on that, too.

Frankie and him never talk about it. For weeks he thought his oldest friend had understood, more of less forgiven him without a word. One day they’re out for lunch, and his eyes flicker at the waitress, tucking her hair behind her ear. When he returns his gaze to the man across him, his blood runs cold. It’s been years since he’s seen furious determination brewing in Frankie’s dark, caring eyes, but it’s there now and he hates it. It takes discipline, to watch how he’s perceived as closely as he watched his intentions, but he does it.

It was easier than winning Will back.

“How long has your logic been shit?” Has your heart been in the wrong place this whole damn time?

“I just got on the wrong path, Ironhead.”

“Like hell you did,” his eyes were ice. “You let that happen.”

It would’ve been easier if he punched him. This wasn’t a kiss and make up moment either. The work ended up being long talks while you forced them to drive to pick you up when your car broke down the town over. Forcing words out being so honest it hurt, until has heart and throat felt raw. Making Will understand it was out of his own fears. Showing him how he was fixing it.

And weeks of letting with watch him again, eyes not missing a single touch or flinch or moment between you all. Actions to reinforce his words.

It hurt, but infinitely less than feeling distant from you all to begin with.

Will and your Catfish bring it up with you, one sunday afternoon as you tuck yourself between them and let their hands trace your skin.

“How are you doing?”

“I don’t know, Will. Better, I think. I missed him.”

Frankie places a row of warm kisses down the side of your neck.

“He missed you too. It’s Pope, he’s... he’s scared, love.”

“I don’t know if I believe that, yet.”

Ironhead grumbles at your confession, his big fingers squeezing the meat of your thigh.

“You gave him another chance, but you’re holding back. What does your gut say?”

“Unreliable - I’m in love with him.”

His head pops up and he kisses you before half-smiling. Frankie’s hand finds one of his, and they share a look.

“Can we tell you, querida? What we’ve seen.”

“Some objective evidence,” Will kisses you again.

“He loves us.” Another kiss.

“You.”

It’s quiet as Santi flips through his latest files. The evening air is cool, and he should be getting ready for bed but you’re not home yet, and they’re all milling about waiting. You texted them how tired you were, what an awful evening you had.

“It should just be another couple of minutes,” Will says, and Frankie checks his watch. Ben wanders to the kitchen and they can hear him mixing hot chocolate.

When you walk through the front door, they fold you in their arms. Santi holds back, doubt still nagging at his mind. You let him back in, let him take you don't dates, but you didn’t fit together any more. He was running out of ways to communicate with you.

But you slump over, gently pushing aside his files and placing his laptop away before replacing it with yourself. Molding into him you sigh, and almost instantly fall asleep.

You’re small and vulnerable in his arms and the weight on his legs feels like trust.

The air in the room shifts, lighter, more breathable than it’s been in months. Adoring, proud eyes watch, and he wants to cry.

For the first time maybe ever, he’s sure that everything is going to be okay.

The bar was mercifully quite that evening, and if made it easy for you to find your love. A small, familiar feeling tugged in your gut as you made your way over to him, eyes on the waitress who was leaning over him with unwholesome intentions.

Then the feeling settled, and was replace with a warmer feeling. She was putting down a tray that had your order on it, and Santi was thanking her, distracted checking your message on his phone.

“Hey, handsome,” you said, the warm feeling spreading throughout your chest. “Can we actually get out of here?”

His brown eyes were big, dark lashes catching the low lights as he stared at you. Somewhere in his mind, he thought too protest because your drink just got there, but the words stuck on his tongue.

“Yeah... yeah of course, baby,” He signaled for the check before standing to draw you in his arms. Saying no to you had never really been an option.

The two of you barely made it to his truck before your hands were all over each other. You liked the feel of him, pinning you against the metal frame, the desperate way he kissed you.

Pope was saying something about how you looked so fucking sexy, needing him so badly you couldn’t wait. You couldn’t concentrate on them.

“Pope,” you said against his skin, sliding your hands under his shirt. In response, he only made a soft groaning noise and increases his urgency.

"Santi," you tried again, before your own gasp cut you off.

"Santi - fuck - Santiago!"

The look he gave you was that of a dog, when you held the treat just out of reach.

"I'm yours," you said, pulling his head in to press against your forehead. "And you," you kissed him, hard, fingers gripping his beautiful curls. "Are mine."

"Fuck," you could feel his heartbeat, his pulse, he was pressing into you so hard, like he wanted to blur where he ended and you began. You knew he understood.

"I am," he said into your skin again and again that evening. Not selfish position, a promise and a proclamation: "I'm yours."

"I'm yours."

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @pbeatriz

poly frontier taglist:

@grogusmum

#triple frontier #poly frontier #triple frontier poly fic #triple frontier x reader #will miller x reader #santiago garcia x reader #francisco morales x reader #benny miller x reader

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milkyway-writes · 4 years

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i’m not ready for that s.r.

pairing: Steve Rogers x black!Reader (anyone could read though)

summary: Even though Steve has been living in modern times for a couple of years now, he still finds himself not used to the present, especially when it comes to women. But when he meets you, an outspoken girl who completely embodies the kind of woman “he’s not ready for,” Steve is forced to reevaluate what he wants.

warnings: 18+, explicit language, dry humping, unprotected sex, sex in a hotel room, a small age gap (but not mentioned much), probably some typos and/or bad grammar, disregard for card games and 60′s music

word count: 2,828

author’s note: This is my first time writing a fic! So, tell me what you think and if you’d like more stuff from me.

After waking up in a world filled with people dressed in unfamiliar clothing, using confusing language, and carrying around these tiny devices they called “phones,” Steve experienced the expected amount of disassociation. He said things which earned him weird looks, struggled to understand modern references, and sometimes secretly wished he could just go back to his own time.

But if anything, Steve Rogers was determined.

He kept a notepad to track the new things he learned and reviewed them in his spare time. He made an effort to listen to the radio and watch popular TV shows. Steve even managed to tailor his wardrobe to a certain degree. Except for the khakis. The khakis were essential.

Despite his acclimation and newfound understanding of the 21st century, Steve still struggled with women. And in all honesty, he doesn’t even feel that open to dating. He’s completely content with simply working and living his life, romance not much of a priority of his.

But Natasha keeps pushing it.

“What about that girl from accounting?” she says, “Laura, Lisa…”

"Lillian,” Steve answers, “lip piercing, right?"

"Yeah, she's cute."

"Yeah, I'm not ready for that.”

•••••

So, when you show up with a total disregard for authority, a smile that could fool the devil, and a snarky attitude all complete with a cute little nose piercing, Steve doesn’t quite know what to do with you.

Your words are much bolder than any woman he knew from the 40’s. You behave with a certain level of confidence and self-assuredness that it’s impossible to believe that you’re only in your twenties. And you don’t shy away from showing men up, never one to hold your tongue. Steve notices that you don’t mind interrupting people. You seem to get a glint in your eye each time he clenches his jaw after you’ve cut him off.

Everything about you is overwhelming to Steve.

Any time he tries to correct you, you scoff, blowing air through your plump lips. Always rolling those brown eyes in annoyance. (It makes Steve want to scream.)

Nothing is ever easy with you. There is always a rebuttal, or some type of teasing remark, or simply a look that tells him “you can’t tell me what to do.” It enrages him. Steve doesn’t think he has ever met a person who could find a way to fight him on every single thing.

Now, as he looks at you standing with your hands on your hips, freshly-manicured nails on display, Steve wonders how he’ll ever manage to get through to you.

•••••

You hadn’t known much about Captain America before you’d agreed to work with him and Natasha when S.H.I.E.L.D. started falling apart.

You had been working for the agency for a while now, assisting in the capture of criminal individuals as a sort of immunity for your own crimes. Your skills were too valuable to waste, and honestly, they knew you’d escape any prison they put you in anyway. Despite this, you weren’t the most reliable.

You often took risks, and your youth raised a sort of concern amongst other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. No one trusted a girl whose main motivation to be an agent was to avoid prison. And because of this, Nick Fury did not bring you on for the Avengers Initiative right away. You needed time to grow, time to figure out your priorities.

For two years, you focused on your development, learning how to control your abilities and use them most effectively, and in the meantime, you only took on small missions. You were happy with this, so happy that when Fury began reaching out to you with the intent to bring you back on for more advanced missions, you promptly avoided them.

One quiet afternoon, you were feeling the soil of your succulent, trying to figure out if the plant needed watering when you got the call that Nick Fury was pronounced dead.

Immediately, your stomach dropped.

Your mind was racing as you rushed to the hospital, hoping that this was all some sick joke. A test. Something Fury had comprised to teach you a lesson.

Natasha noticed as you stood frozen at the door of the hospital room. Your heart ached seeing him lie there lifeless.

While you pretended that you didn’t care about him, Fury had always been important to you. He had given you a second chance when you didn’t even think you deserved it. He saw potential in you when others saw you as a delinquent. This grief, coupled with the knowledge that S.H.I.E.L.D. had been compromised, led you to agree to work with Natasha and her new friend, Steve Rogers.

•••••

Since the beginning, your presence had been an immediate concern to Steve. Along with your untamed attitude, he didn’t like the way you would make hasty decisions that left him wondering if you were still alive. He had to bite his tongue at your stubbornness. And each roll of your eyes pushed Steve further and further to the edge. After a while, he had had enough and pulled you to the side to express his disapproval.

You stare at him expectantly with your hands still on your hips, waiting to hear why he’s singled you out.

He lets out a breath, “these antics of yours have got to stop.”

You instantly laugh. Because he has to be kidding.

It takes everything in him to remain calm when you flash him a smile and saunter away, throwing a “oh loosen up, Captain,” over your shoulder.

He has to stop himself from watching your hips sway. He catches your wrist. “No. Not ‘loosen up.’ You need to be more responsible.”

“Well you need to understand that I’m not a soldier,” you yank your arm back. “I’ll follow your plan,” you offer, “but sometimes things don’t go as planned and we have to make adjustments,” you say, speaking slowly as if Steve’s a child.

He steps closer, now towering over your small frame. “Your ‘adjustments’ almost always result in dangerous situations.”

“Really?” You cock your head to the side, “Is that right?”

He narrows his eyes at you.

“So, this is coming from the man who jumped out of an elevator?” Your perfectly arched eyebrow raises tauntingly. “Right?”

You chuckle as he rolls his eyes. You don’t miss the hint of a smile in them.

•••••

You do eventually try to be more of a team player, sticking to the plan when you can. You figured you’d be working with them more often, so it was in your best interest to make yourself easy to work with. Your efforts don’t go unnoticed.

Steve is grateful that you don’t pull any surprises when the Winter Soldier makes his attack. The revelation that it was his best friend already enough to throw him off.

Surprisingly, when Steve decides to go after Bucky, you offer to join him and Sam. Your excuse being that you don’t trust two men to get the job done.

Honestly, you just didn’t want to go back to your life before. Working with Steve was exciting. He was exciting. The way he’d catch your eyes after you’d say something snarky made your stomach flip because there was a hint of a threat in them.

You enjoyed the way he wasn’t afraid to touch you. He liked to grab your arm and pull you to him when you didn’t listen. He’d once backed you up against a wall when he thought you weren’t telling him the full story pertaining to the mission. And while he was angry, you couldn’t help wondering what it’d be like to have him take you right then and there.

You had come to terms with the fact that you wanted Steve Rogers. You just didn’t know if he’d want someone like you. You were aware that he probably hadn’t encountered many women like you in his past life.

•••••

While your eye rolls and sassy comments do remain, Steve finds himself enjoying your presence despite himself. The struggle between the two of you slowly morphing into playful teasing, teetering the line between that and sexual tension.

“How’d you end up here anyway?” Steve asks as he lays down an ace of spades.

You grimace and tuck your king of hearts back into your hand in embarrassment. “We’re on a mission, silly.” You giggle, the diamond in your nose catching the light.

“Mhm very funny,” he says. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You don’t say anything. The only sound coming from your breathing and the Solomon Burke song that’s playing through your phone speaker.

You hum along as you pretend to search your hand for a card to play.

Steve nudges your knee. You’re not sure if it’s because you haven’t answered him or because you still haven’t put down a card.

“You mean how’d I end up doing this? Working for S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

He nods.

“It’s a long story,” you manage to let out.

“We’ve got time.”

You sigh and place your cards down on the mattress knowing you were gonna lose anyway.

“A while back, I lost someone…someone very important to me,” you say, “and all I wanted was to hurt the people who took them from me.” You glance up to meet Steve’s eyes, “one thing led to another, and I sort of lost myself. I hurt people in ways I never intended to, caused the kind of pain that,” you search for the words, “that I had always been so afraid to feel.”

“I was so blinded by rage,” you shake your head, “I just completely forgot my morals.”

You feel the bed shift, and Steve reaches out for your hand.

“Long story short, Fury offered me a job. Said I could use my skills for good. And next thing you know I’m going on these crazy missions and catching ‘bad guys,’” you say using finger quotes.

You sigh, “you must think the absolute worst of me now, huh?”

Steve chuckles, “no, not at all.” He pauses and his eyebrows crease. “It actually makes me respect you more.”

You let out a laugh, “well then, sir, you are most definitely twisted.”

He shrugs, “maybe I am.”

You notice that he never let go of your hand, and for a second you swear you feel a flutter in your abdomen. Lightly, you slide your fingers up his arm, tracing the veins. He doesn’t move or protest. Instead, he brings his other hand to rest on your knee. You look up at him as his hand moves from your knee up your thigh, gripping you firmly where your shorts end.

Steve looks at you for approval, and when you nod, he pulls you in by your hips and leans in, letting his lips ghost over yours.

You haven’t felt like this in awhile, and it takes a lot of strength to hold back a whine. Steve continues to tease you, only letting his lips lightly touch yours while rubbing circles into your hips under your shirt. Impatiently, you link your hands together behind his head, and when you grasp the hair at the nape of his neck, Steve finally leans in, letting his lips press against yours.

Almost instantly, you climb onto his lap, straddling him. The playing cards from earlier are hastily pushed aside as Steve scoots back, bringing you with him.

His hands find your hips again as he sucks on your bottom lip. You softly grind into him, causing Steve to groan into your mouth. He works to control himself. He hadn’t expected it to feel this way with you. So desperate, so needing.

You can feel his hardness through the material of his sweatpants, making your arousal even more apparent.

Steve leans down to kiss your neck. The feeling of his tongue makes you buck your hips, searching for some type of friction. His hand travels up your side and comes to cup one of your breasts. He runs his thumb over your nipple, feeling it harden.

This must give him an idea as he moves to pull your shirt over your head. He grabs you again and takes your nipple in his mouth. You moan, continuing to grind onto him as his hands cup your ass. At this point, you’re sure that your arousal is leaking through your shorts.

Steve feels completely lost in you, your body setting him on fire and awaking something within him he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before.

He continues his assault on your breasts as you fight to control your arousal. You feel his cock twitch under you. “Please, Steve,” you say breathlessly.

“Please what?” He mumbles around your breasts.

“I need you.”

Those seem to be the words he needed as Steve promptly flips you over, roughly yanking your shorts down. He tosses his shirt off as you grab onto the waistband of his pants, urging him to take them off. He pushes you back on the bed, leaning over you. You feel his knee press into your cunt and let out a moan.

Steve grabs your face, kissing you sloppily, and trails his hand down your body. You nearly grind onto his hand as he places his thumb over your clit and rubs slow circles over it.

“You like that, honey?” He teases as he rubs you over your panties.

You nod, biting your lip.

He grabs your chin, “I said do you like it? Answer me.”

You cry out, “yes, Steve yes,” You whimper, “please I need more.”

He scoffs, “who would’ve thought to get you to act right, I’d just have to play with this pretty pussy?”

You let out a pitiful whine.

“Now you wanna be a good girl huh?”

You’re afraid you’re going to cum just from his words when he stops and drags your panties down so slowly that you want to scream. The smug look on Steve’s face makes your face burn. He’s enjoying this too much.

Once they’re off, Steve settles between your thighs, making you look him in the eyes before reaching his hand down and dragging the head of his cock from your folds to your clit. You moan as he gently taps it against your clit a few times and makes a comment about how wet you are. There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he lines himself up at your entrance. Steve groans as he eases into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper.

He bottoms out, and you both moan. Steve begins to thrust, and you’re already so worked up that you know you won’t last long. He brings his hand down to rub your clit causing you to cry out.

His thrusts become more forceful. Your eyes close tightly, your sharp nails digging into his shoulders. He leans his forehead against yours, “I know you want it, sweetheart. I know you wanna cum.”

His words shock you but send a wave of pleasure straight to your core.

“Come on, honey, cum for me.” Steve says as he thrusts into you. Your walls spasm around his cock, causing him to groan into your neck. He never lets up on his thrusts though, continuing to slam into you as your first orgasm ripples through your body.

“You feel so good around my cock, baby,” he brings a hand up to lightly wrap around your neck.

You groan in response feeling your abdomen tighten once again.

You can tell Steve is close now, his thrusts becoming frantic and rushed. You clutch onto him as the sounds of slapping skin fill the room. Your name falling off of his lips repeatedly in your ear.

“Cum inside me, Steve,” you plead, “I wanna feel you.” He groans at your words, and you feel his hand tighten around your throat. You look at him, and his eyes are dark with lust, you feel yourself clench around his length. The look he’s giving you fills you with a primal need. You plead one more time, pushing Steve over the edge. His thrusts begin to slow, the feeling of him filling you up is enough to bring about another orgasm.

You find it difficult to keep your eyes open. Sleep begins to take you, and you drift off with Steve guiding you to lay your head on his chest.

With one hand caressing the side of your head, Steve stares up at the ceiling of the hotel room, Nina Simone’s voice floating out of your phone.

“It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me,”

“And I’m feeling good.”

•••••

Initially, seeing a girl like you would have made Steve doubt himself.

But now, he knows he’s ready for you as he sits next to you holding your hand as you prepare to get your first tattoo.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers x black!reader #black reader #steve rogers #captain america #marvel #marvel x reader #captain america x reader #enhanced!reader #steve rogers x enhanced!reader #captain america smut #chris evans

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vivacissimx · 3 years

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lyanna stark, a drop of the wolf-blood, & the pragmatism underneath

the youngest we see lyanna (in my estimation), is this vision from bran

Now two children danced across the godswood, hooting at one another as they dueled with broken branches. The girl was the older and taller of the two. Arya! Bran thought eagerly, as he watched her leap up onto a rock and cut at the boy. But that couldn't be right. If the girl was Arya, the boy was Bran himself, and he had never worn his hair so long. And Arya never beat me playing swords, the way that girl is beating him. She slashed the boy across his thigh, so hard that his leg went out from under him and he fell into the pool and began to splash and shout. "You be quiet, stupid," the girl said, tossing her own branch aside. "It's just water. Do you want Old Nan to hear and run tell Father?" She knelt and pulled her brother from the pool

- Bran III, ADWD

but four books earlier, we see this quote from ned:

Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it

- Arya II, AGOT

so we know that that ned was close enough to lyanna to know that she enjoyed swordplay, close enough to know her desires and to know that rickard would never accept this (for whatever reason).

...but not close enough to be the one she practiced sworldplay with in secret. the picture this paints is telling. lyanna was explicitly banned from something, and chose to pursue it in a secret and harmless way, with someone she trusted.

but ned isn't privy to that information. whether because he wasn't around, or because lyanna thought he would disapprove, or because he just thought it was childish - either way, we see that lyanna is picky about who she trusts, bred out of having to be sneaky in achieving her goals under her strict father's nose. she even identifies old nan as a snitch (et tu brute?). clever kid.

lyanna has other hobbies, too. she loves flowers. she loves riding horses.

"You ride like a northman, milady," Harwin said when he'd drawn them to a halt. "Your aunt was the same. Lady Lyanna. But my father was master of horse, remember."

- Arya III, ASOS

[Brandon] loved to ride. His little sister took after him in that. A pair of centaurs, those two.

- The Turncloak, ADWD

Horses … [Domeric] was mad for horses, Lady Dustin will tell you. Not even Lord Rickard's daughter could outrace him, and that one was half a horse herself.

- Reek III, ADWD

worth mentioning, imo, that even though lyanna was an excellent rider, she couldn't beat domeric. this is paralelled with arya, who is great on horseback, but not faster than harwin the son of winterfell's master of horse. this isn't a case of 'not like other girls' syndrome, of mary sues who are magically the best there ever was. conversely, adversity doesn't scare either of them off - lyanna was clearly competitive, with domeric and likely with brandon before him, and it all added up to her being remembered as a fantastic horserider despite effectively leaving the north at 14.

so lyanna is determined. she's willful, to hear ned say it.

then, of course, we have this

"Robert will never keep to one bed," Lyanna had told him at Winterfell, on the night long ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lord of Storm's End. "I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale." Ned had held the babe in his arms; he could scarcely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, but he had assured her that what Robert did before their betrothal was of no matter, that he was a good man and true who would love her with all his heart.

Lyanna had only smiled. "Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature."

- Eddard IX, AGOT

this seems fairly clear cut, but let's break down this conversation:

lyanna (told the news by the authoritative father; being approached by ned, the sibling who is best friends with the guy in question; thirteen years old): he will never keep to one bed. he has a bastard already, on a common girl he cannot marry which speaks to his character

ned: it isn't robert's actions that matter, it's his feelings. *crickets on lyanna's feelings*

now lyanna is thirteen. but she already recognizes that this is a losing battle. why? because she can't change robert?

no. because she cannot change the minds of rickard, or of ned.

there is no doubt in my mind that both these men loved her. but do they listen to her? clearly not.

lyanna doesn't bother to fight this fight she cannot win. she just smiles, realizing that rickard/ned are not going to hear her out on this, and gets the last word with "love does not change a man's nature."

this isn't the divide between lyanna and robert - this is the moment of divide between lyanna and ned. they're siblings who love each other, and love is sweet, but none of that changes that ned is on rickard and robert's side. it's a rough moment for a teenage girl. she was right earlier, she must realize - benjen is the brother she can trust.

so lyanna is determined, but she is pragmatic.

the next time we see lyanna, she's kicking ass at harrenhal.

[...]they heard a roar. “That’s my father’s man you’re kicking!” howled the she-wolf…

The she-wolf laid into the squires with a tourney sword, scattering them all. The crannogman was bruised and bloodied, so she took him back to her lair to clean his cuts and bind them up with linen.

- Bran II, ASOS

here is where lyanna really shines.

she has a moral code all her own, we already know this from her assessment of robert's child that differed from how catelyn views bastards disconnected from the home.

she dislikes bullies, which is fairly common (jaime hated bullies growing up, for example) but for some reason at this very moment, she also has a tourney sword in hand - why? well, because lyanna stark takes her opportunities when she has them. barred from swordplay? that's fine, dad, but when you're not looking is another story.

she doesn't go rushing in, nor does she ignore the scene. she watches long enough to see if howland can fight them off (he can't), giving her time to identify him as a crannogman - possibly even as a highborn crannogman. and then what does she do? she weighs her options, decides that she can probably beat the bullies, and does so. then she takes care of howland reed, picking him up like she picked benjen out of the water in bran's vision.

[T]here was to be a feast in Harrenhal, to mark the opening of the tourney, and the she-wolf insisted that the lad attend. He was of high birth, with as much right to a place on the bench as any other man.

- Bran II, ASOS

she claims his rights as a highborn lord to attend. he doesn't have clothes, nor does howland insist that he can go, but lyanna makes a reasoned argument that howland has every right to attend and that surely benjen can find him some clothes!

so lyanna is determined, pragmatic, and a problem-solver.

[T]he Knight of the Laughing Tree spoke in a booming voice through his helm, saying “Teach your squires honour, and that shall be ransom enough.” Once the defeated knights chastised their squires sharply, their horses and armour were returned.

- Bran II, ASOS

here, lyanna displays a trait that sets her apart. howland memorizes the face of his bullies. he wants to "revenge" himself on them. but lyanna does not go directly for the bullies, she challenges the lords to whom the bullies squire, and commands them to chastise their squires.

lyanna understands the chivalric system she lives in, and that she will not be listened to (how? her own father and brother don't listen to her!), so she figures out another way to get justice that plays on the very ideas of might & honor that exclude the weak. she is confident in her abilities (being experienced riding at rings), gathers up all the material she needs, and takes a calculated risk.

she manipulates the system, plainly. she plays the players at their own game and wins.

and she does it for a guy she met a few days ago.

lyanna is determined, pragmatic, a problem-solver, and ascribes to a moral code that is all her own, one that rejects societal hypocrisy.

You have a wildness in you, child. 'The wolf blood,' my father used to call it. Lyanna had a touch of it, and my brother Brandon more than a touch.

- Arya II, AGOT

so how do we square this away? lyanna was wolf-blooded. she was wild. she was untameable.

or was she?

any girl/woman with half a personality gets described as "spirited" or "willful" or "stubborn" in asoiaf. it's a polite of saying "hard to control." we see several times that lyanna takes a measured approach to matters. she is brave, yes, but she is also thoughtful and chooses her battles with the information she has. when she is denied something for no reason beyond her gender and status, she finds a way to pursue her interests regardless.

but robert is something lyanna can't avoid. and that had to rankle her, the betrothal she is determined to avoid, but pragmatically cannot due to her family's insistence. the marriage that goes against her moral code (i'm sure lyanna noted that robert gladly volunteered to capture the KOTLT, regardless of what punishment might be given down by a deranged aerys).

[i'm going to skip over her relationship with rhaegar, because there isn't enough/any text to analyze that explicitly deals with their dynamic post-harrenhal. speculation isn't the point of this post. suffice to say she saw in him something she did not in her family or robert.]

then aerys burns her father and brother.

could rhaegar have stopped aerys once he made up his mind? we as readers know the answer is no. grrm says so much himself, that it was aerys who kicked off the war in this interview:

The Mad King was mad. He was paranoid and violent and he was abusing his power... [Robert's Rebellion] was triggered by[...]the execution of Ned’s father and brother, it was the thing that radicalized, as we would have said in the 60s, Ned and it put him in opposition to it. Robert was just rolling for a fight and it might affect that he’d lost his girlfriend.

the absolute power of kings is continuously critiqued in the series.

so how did lyanna react? of course she grieved deeply. even if she knew that she would likely not see her family again for several years at least, for them to die in such a terrible manner is horrifying.

but lyanna has been forged into pragmatism. she looked at the squires beating up howland and saw that the issue was not the bullies, but the corrupt, lazy lords they squired for.

why would she not be able to see that aerys's abuse of power was what had killed her own family? she's realistic and she's a moral actor and she understands the social system around her. whatever her opinion on feudal lordship before, abuse of power has now killed two people she loved. only extrapolation can say how she would react, but given that we see her in similar situations - it is safe to say that the she understands the removal of aerys from power is a necessity, and that a king who is ruled by his urges is unfit.

[lyanna doesn't have the highest opinion of robert, does she? would she think him fit to be a king? doubtful.]

however, she also wants her family to be safe - a family which is now going to include her unborn baby.

[Ned] could hear her still at times. Promise me, she had cried, in a room that smelled of blood and roses. Promise me, Ned. The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister's eyes. Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black

- Eddard I, AGOT

the promise she solicited from ned is to care for baby jon, presumably.

more importantly, in this final conversation, lyanna is putting all her trust in ned.

this moment is a tragic one, but it is also a cathartic one. whatever has happened, and there is plenty of difficulty between ned and lya at this point, they are putting that to the side and affirming what matters most: their love and loyalty to one another, not in service to house stark, or to any king or cause, but to each other as lyanna and ned.

ned didn't listen before, but he promises her now. lyanna didn't confide in him before, but she does now. yes she's on her deathbed, but this is powerful anyway. it's a healing moment for them both, one lyanna held on for even though by all means she could have trusted the kingsguard to whisk baby jon away earlier and succumbed to the pain.

lyanna doesn't spend her last moments begging for forgiveness or explaining herself. she spends her last moments trying to solve the problem of jon's safety, of her son's life. even at the end, she is determined that he will live.

she dies fearless. she smiles, maybe the same way she smiled in winterfell when ned told her robert would be a good husband and she saw the love in ned's words but not the respect. a bittersweet smile, because jon will survive but she won't see it.

"She should be on a hill somewhere, under a fruit tree, with the sun and clouds above her and the rain to wash her clean."

"I was with her when she died," Ned reminded the king. "She wanted to come home, to rest beside Brandon and Father."

- Eddard I, AGOT

this is our actual introduction to lyanna, when robert and ned initially visit her in the crypts. given everything we know, it's so fitting - robert is displeased with her gravesite. he never got what he wanted (his manic pixie dream girl </3), and even in death he doesn't like her grave.

lyanna was never the person robert projected her to be. in her crypt, she's still defiant against him/what he symbolizes. her determination, her wishes, her home, they all shine through.

But there were others with faces he had never known in life, faces he had seen only in stone. The slim, sad girl who wore a crown of pale blue roses and a white gown spattered with gore could only be Lyanna. Her brother Brandon stood beside her, and their father Lord Rickard just behind.

- Theon V, ACOK

in the end, lyanna's close to her family (even by their side in theon's dreams). she's close to brandon, rickard, ned, old nan, everyone she ever knew growing up, and most importantly: to jon. it's a romantic ending for a minor character, a character grrm clearly cherished when he wrote.

the point of this post is that i want to leave behind the idea of lyanna stark as this harbinger of tragedy. the woman who ruined every man who looked into her eyes (robert, ned, rhaegar) and is now turned to stone. lyanna stark isn't written as a cautionary tale, as a romanticized medusa - instead, her memory lives on in a son who doesn't know her but still loves her, in how the people she knew remember her for what she actually loved, and even in lyanna mormont (a fitting namesake). there's defiance and meaning in that.

i could never say it better, so have hélène cixous's banger to round out my thoughts on lyanna:

You only have to look at the Medusa straight on to see her. And she’s not deadly. She’s beautiful and she’s laughing.

#lyanna stark #asoiaf meta #valyrian scrolls #lyannaweek2021 #ned stark #long post #text #in this house we do not respect the idea that women are spoiled or wrong for choosing themselves <3

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saphirered · 3 years

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Would an individual ask about Caleb ending up with the reader instead of Essek at the end of campaign be alright? I love the wizard bois together, but I'm crushing baaaad on Caleb hehe. Maybe they teach and live happily ever after together, very domestic living after all the adventures they've had :3

Hoping to satisfy your Caleb crush. How's this for some domestic fluff? Enjoy! 😘

The first rays of sunlight are blocked by thick heavy curtains. Awake or asleep, Caleb’s sense of time never fails him. He wakes up bright and early on the minute precise but makes no move to truly start his day. How could he with the sight he wakes to? There you lay, in his arms, eyes closed in peaceful sleep. Never did he think he’d see you so relaxed, or allow yourself to be so relaxed. Sure your lives are not free of stress or the occasional disaster and rarely are your livelihoods in peril these days but compared to months ago that doesn’t even come close to the dangers you’ve faced together; dangers that the majority of the people will never know about. A moment of peace and quiet was just another luxury you and him couldn’t truly afford no matter how much you may have pretended. But now you finally know peace.

Caleb watches your eyes flutter beneath your eyelids and watches just a moment longer carefully trailing his fingers up from their place on your waist to your cheek, caressing it fondly as you sleep. He reminisces when and where your lives intertwined in that tavern in Trostenwald and the events leading you both here together in your shared apartment in Rexxentrum at the Soltryce Academy as respectable teachers of the arts you both love.

When you first met Caleb feared you. He feared you more than anything for you just like him had ties to the Cerberus Assembly but you did not suffer the same fate he had. Luckily your studies were of no interest of his former master and you were instead claimed by another sent out into the world to learn more and find your own way. He was so scared you might lead the Assembly to his nonexistent doorstep and at one point entertained the thought you were a spy sent to bring him back but you proved the opposite. When he revealed his story and you told him you would help him or die trying beside him he brushed you off. Persistent as you are you gave him the wakeup call of a lifetime saying that you’re not doing this just for him but everyone before him, everyone after him.

To Caleb you will always represent all that is good and pure in this world despite the horrors that may have shaped you, changed you for better or worse. He will always consider himself to be the luckiest man in the world to have you at his side as his confidant, moral compass, study-mate, intellectual equal, bailout, friend, partner, but most of all; his lover for he could not want for anyone else in the world. No one could ever replace you and no one can compare to you. You may tell him you’re not the most intelligent, quick-witted, charming or interesting individual in the world but to him you are and he will argue with you on that until you grow tired of him and are forced to accept. He certainly does not mind the fluster of your cheeks and kiss you offer to shut him up.

And now you lie asleep cuddled up against him, limbs intertwined, the sunset orange covers slipping from your shoulder. Caleb hears the birds begin their song signalling he must leave the warm comforts of your embrace so carefully he begins to untangle his legs from yours, his arm from underneath your head replacing it by quickly pulling the pillow above down. He begins to untangle your grasp on his shirt slowly removing your fingers one by one. A deep intake of breath on your end and adjustment of your legs below the covers has him worried he’s woken you up.

Caleb knows fully well you have your own ways of waking up on time and you would have asked him the night before if he ought to wake you, so since you’re not already awake he’ll give you every extra minute of sleep you can get. You deserve it so he’ll curse himself if he’s the one to ruin it. Once you have adjusted and he’s sure you’re still sleeping he continues and removes himself from the warm comforts you’re huddled up among longing for nothing more than to share them a minute longer and gathers his things. In putting his lesson plans, notes and a few books to pass the time for the day he bends down to allow the orange tabby to jump into his arms and sets the cat onto the table taking a moment to stroke its fur and give some chin scratches leaving the little beastie purring.

Ridding himself of his night clothes Caleb puts on his shirt, and trousers tucking the shirt into the waistband and moves on to his footwear as per his usual routine. He takes the vest set out for him and is about to button it up when he feels eyes on him. His first thoughts go to the cat but that one’s not the guilty audience so instead his eyes fall to you, propped up against the headboard watching him.

“Well don’t stop on my accord. Though, I prefer the clothes back on the chair.” Your voice is still riddled with sleep but you’re awake enough for your comments so Caleb feels justified to give you a disapproving scowl though he cannot prevent the smile from creeping up his lips.

“Good morning to you too.” Caleb smiles as you cover a yawn with the back of your hand. You pull yourself out of the bed and stumble over to Caleb until you’re toe to toe placing a hand on his cheek guiding him into a kiss. Your lips move against his and his arms wrap around you to return and welcome your efforts openly. Though, enough’s enough and Caleb breaks the kiss giving you one final peck in an attempt to kiss away the onset disappointment and pout on your end.

“No matter how much I’d like to continue, Astrid will have both of our heads we show up late.” Caleb runs his fingers through your hair kissing your cheek as you cross your arms. Is there nothing you can do to convince him to stay? He might be right about Astrid…

“Well, I do not have any classes until second period but if you’re so adamant to stay with me I can send the archmage a message to tell her you’re regretful to be missing your first class of the day and to find a substitute.” You’re joking. Not really. A joke hiding the actual offer. Caleb considers it for a brief moment purely to entertain the thought but he knows very well he shouldn’t.

“You know we can’t but how about I make it up to you with dinner and dancing and a night in? Just the two of us.” Caleb cups your cheeks stroking your cheekbones with his thumbs, a gesture he knows very well makes you melt.

“That sounds like an agreeable offer, professor Widogast.” Your acceptance brings another bright smile to his face and he pulls you into another chaste kiss to seal the deal. This time you’re the one to pull away.

“Best get you ready for the day then, lest you be late.” Your nimble fingers stroke down the front of his chest finding the buttons of his vest and one by one buttoning them up. Once you’re done you take a few steps back looking him over.

“Do I pass your inspection, professor?” Caleb laughs half the mind to do a little spin for you but he refrains instead lifting the cat from the table into his arms.

“With flying colours. I think his highness is inclined to agree.” You watch as the cat meows making himself comfortable in your wizard’s arms without any intent to go anywhere but alas, all good things come to an end be it for the cat or you. With some protests Caleb puts the cat back on the ground allowing the creature to skitter off to gods know where.

You pull open the curtains allowing the light of dawn to fill the room. Caleb already regrets the decision of not taking you up on your offer to call in late and miss his first class as you look absolutely radiant but he feels certain both of you will be missing second and possibly even third period if he does, so he must refrain. Tonight will make up for it. He’s already got the perfect place in mind for dinner.

You catch Caleb staring, his gaze following you as you pull at the heavy fabric until the outside world is revealed to you. You put a little sway in your step before you gather your own clothes for the day and change in your usual attire, slowly. Deliberately slow. If he’s already staring you better not waste your opportunity and make a show of it.

“No use in staying in bed all alone. His Highness makes for good company but he’s a dull conversationalist. Perhaps I’ll drop by Beau at the Archives?” You deliberate your events for the morning tapping your chin.

“If you do, tell the Expositor I have some more files for her to study.” Caleb, finally pulled out of his trance steps back over to you, or rather besides you to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulder. You know he’s about to be off so you wrap your arm around his waist as you guide him to the door. Not much you can change about the need for students to be taught the wonders of transmutation magic. While you may find times you’d want to spend more time together, in the end neither of you would ever want to give up teaching. There’s plenty of other times you can spend together happily. Or you can justify combining your classes for one reason or another as you love nothing more than to share your passions.

“I’ll see you in a few hours at the Academy?” Caleb watches as you fall silent for a moment, your focus drawn away.

“Yes, I’ll make sure he knows. We’ll be there. Thank you.” You speak but Caleb knows fully well it’s not directed at him. This has become a habit he’s very much gotten used to so he simply awaits for you to share the message.

“Astrid wants us for lunch. She threatened to limit your access to the library if you’re late.” Of course she does, Caleb thinks to himself. So the archmage may or may not have heard about his almost-arrest of the day before. He’d already gotten an earful from you.

“Of course she does. There go our lunch plans for our free period.”

“You’re the one to get arrested for- and I quote ‘encourage insurgence among young impressionable souls’.” You grin. Okay, you may have been a little proud of Caleb actively trying to do better but you could do without the accusations of treason. You’d rather not have Caleb spend the night in jail because word got out or he pissed off the wrong person. You’d expect this from Beauregard but had hoped Caleb would be more careful about it and so apparently thought Astrid. He’s in for a scolding according to her tone.

“Merely teaching young impressionable souls how to be better. Is that a crime?” You grab Caleb’s coat and help him into it as he offers you a ‘thank you’.

“According to the king, yes it is.” The amusement in your voice is enough to earn you a playful glare. You open the door for Caleb and he steps halfway out offering you one final kiss.

“Love you.” Caleb pecks your lips. You’ve drawn out the length of the kiss long enough and he’s already on the verge of running late now so no matter how much he may want to stay, he has to go.

“Love you too, Caleb. See you soon and for the love of the arcane arts; stay out of trouble.” You know he won’t make that promise as he can’t keep it but you still tell him to every time. You kiss his cheek stepping back and watching the wizard leave as you close the door. Nothing but a usual morning; sneaking out of bed, cats, kisses, a message from your friend the archmage, talks of treason and the love of two fate-entwined mages trying to make the world a better place.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #caleb x reader #caleb widogast x reader #critical role #mighty nein

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aion-rsa · 3 years

Text

Doctor Who: Perfect 10? How Fandom Forgets the Dark Side of David Tennant’s Doctor

https://ift.tt/2URb21b

As recently as September 2020 David Tennant topped a Radio Times poll of favourite Doctors. He beat Tom Baker in a 2006 Doctor Who Magazine poll, and was voted the best TV character of the 21st Century by the readers of Digital Spy. He was the Doctor during one of Doctor Who‘s critical and commercial peaks, bringing in consistently high ratings and a Christmas day audience of 13.31 million for ‘Voyage of the Damned’, and 12.27 million for his final episode, ‘The End of Time – Part Two’. He is the only other Doctor who challenges Tom Baker in terms of associated iconography, even being part of the Christmas idents on BBC One as his final episodes were broadcast. Put simply, the Tenth Doctor is ‘My Doctor’ for a huge swathe of people and David Tennant in a brown coat will be the image they think of when Doctor Who is mentioned.

In articles to accompany these fan polls, Tennant’s Doctor is described as ‘amiable’ in contrast to his predecessor Christopher Eccleston’s dark take on the character. Ten is ‘down-to-earth’, ‘romantic’, ‘sweeter’, ‘more light-hearted’ and the Doctor you’d most want to invite you on board the TARDIS. That’s interesting in some respects, because the Tenth Doctor is very much a Jekyll and Hyde character. He’s handsome, he’s charismatic, and travelling with him can be addictively fun, but he is also casually cruel, harshly dismissive, and lacking in self-awareness. His ego wants feeding, and once fed, can have destructive results.

That tension in the character isn’t due to bad writing or acting. Quite the contrary. Most Doctors have an element of unpleasantness to their behaviour. Ever since the First Doctor kidnapped Ian and Barbara, the character has been moving away from the entitled snob we met him as, but can never escape it completely.

Six and Twelve were both written to be especially abrasive, then soften as time went on (with Colin Baker having to do this through Big Finish audio plays rather than on telly). A significant difference between Twelve and Ten, though, is that Twelve questions himself more. Ten, to the very end, seems to believe his own hype.

The Tenth Doctor’s duality is apparent from his first full appearance in 2005’s ‘The Christmas Invasion’. Having quoted The Lion King and fearlessly ambled through the Sycorax ship in a dressing gown, he seems the picture of bonhomie, that lighter and amiable character shining through. Then he kills their leader. True, it was in self-defence, but it was lethal force that may not have been necessary. Then he immediately topples the British Prime Minister for a not dissimilar act of aggression. Immediately we see the Tenth Doctor’s potential for violence and moral grey areas. He’s still the same man who considered braining someone with a rock in ‘An Unearthly Child’.

Teamed with Rose Tyler, a companion of similar status to Tennant’s Doctor, they blazed their way through time and space with a level of confidence that bordered on entitlement, and a love that manifested itself negatively on the people surrounding them. The most obvious example in Series 2 is ‘Tooth and Claw’, where Russell T. Davies has them react to horror and carnage in the manner of excited tourists who��ve just seen a celebrity. This aloof detachment results in Queen Victoria establishing the Torchwood institute that will eventually split them apart. We see their blinkers on again in ‘Rise of the Cybermen’, when they take Mickey for granted. Rose and the Doctor skip along the dividing line between romance and hubris.

Then, in a Christmassy romp where the Doctor is grieving the loss of Rose, he commits genocide and Donna Noble sucker punches him with ‘I think you need somebody to stop you’. Well-meaning as this statement is, the Doctor treats it as a reason to reduce his next companion to a function rather than a person. Martha Jones is there to stop the Doctor, as far as he’s concerned. She’s a rebound companion. Martha is in love with him, and though he respects her, she’s also something of a prop.

This is the series in which the Doctor becomes human in order to escape the Family of Blood (adapted from a book in which he becomes human in order to understand his companion’s grief, not realising anyone is after him), and is culpable for all the death that follows in his wake. Martha puts up with a position as a servant and with regular racist abuse on her travels with this man, before finally realising at the end of the series that she needs to get out of the relationship. For a rebound companion, Martha withstands a hell of a lot, mostly caused by the Doctor’s failings.

Why David Tennant Lost Hannibal Role According to Bryan Fuller

By Kirsten Howard

Staged: BBC Comedy Confirms Sheen & Tennant’s Double-Act Greatness

By Louisa Mellor

Series 4 develops the Doctor further, putting the Tenth’s Doctor’s flaws in the foreground more clearly. Donna is now travelling with him, and simply calls him out on his behaviour more than Rose or Martha did. Nonetheless the Doctor ploughs on, and in ‘Midnight’ we see him reduced to desperate and ugly pleas about how clever he is when he’s put in a situation he can’t talk himself out of.

Rose has also become more Doctor-like while trapped in another reality, and brutally tells Donna that she’s going to have to die in order to return to the original timeline (just as the Doctor tells Donna she’s going to have to lose her memories of travelling with him in order to live her previous life, even as she clearly asks him not to – and how long did the Doctor know he would have to do this for? It’s not like he’s surprised when Donna starts glitching). Tied into this is the Doctor’s belief in his own legend. In ‘The Doctor’s Daughter’ he holds a gun to Cobb’s head, then withdraws it and asks that they start a society based on the morals of his actions. You know, like a well-adjusted person does.

What’s interesting here is that despite presenting himself as ‘a man who never would’, the Doctor is a man who absolutely would. We’ve seen him do it. Even the Tenth Doctor, so keen to live up to the absolute moral ideals he espouses, killed the Sycorax leader and the Krillitanes, drove the Cybermen to die of despair, brought the Family of Blood to a quiet village and then disposed of them personally. But Tennant doesn’t play this as a useful lie, he plays it as something the Doctor absolutely believes in that moment, that he is a man who would not kill even as his daughter lies dead. It’s why his picking up a gun in ‘The End of Time’ has such impact. And it makes some sense that the Tenth Doctor would reject violence following a predecessor who regenerated after refusing to commit another double-genocide.

In the series finale ‘Journey’s End‘, Davros accuses the Doctor of turning his friends into weapons. This is because the Doctor’s friends have used weapons against the Daleks who – and I can’t stress this enough – are about to kill everyone in the entire universe. Fighting back against them seems pretty rational. Also – and again I can’t stress this enough – the Daleks are bad. Like, really bad. You won’t believe just how mindbogglingly bad they are. The Doctor has tried to destroy them several times by this point. Here, there isn’t the complication of double-genocide, and instead the very real threat of absolutely everyone in the universe dying. This accusation, that the Doctor turns people into weapons, should absolutely not land.

And yet, with the Tenth Doctor, it does. This is a huge distinction between him and the First Doctor, who had to persuade pacifists to fight for him in ‘The Daleks’.

In ‘The Sontaran Strategem’ Martha compares the Doctor to fire. It’s so blunt it almost seems not worth saying, but it’s the perfect analogy (especially for a show where fire is a huge part of the very first story). Yes, fire shines in dark places, yes it can be a beacon, but despite it being very much fire’s entire deal, people can forget that it burns. And fire has that mythical connection of being stolen from the gods and brought to humanity. The Time Lord Victorious concept fits the Tenth Doctor so well. Of all the Doctors, he’s the most ready to believe in himself as a semi-mythic figure.

Even when regenerating there’s a balance between hero and legend: the Tenth Doctor does ultimately save Wilfred Mott, but only after pointing out passionately how big a sacrifice he’s making. And then he goes to get his reward by meeting all his friends, only to glare at them from a distance. His last words are ‘I don’t want to go’, which works well as clearly being a poignant moment for the actor as well, but in the context of Doctor Who as a whole it renders Ten anomalous: no one else went this unwillingly. And yet, in interviews Russell T. Davies said it was important to end the story with ‘the Doctor as people have loved him: funny, the bright spark, the hero, the enthusiast’.

It’s fascinating then, that this is the Doctor who has been taken to heart by so many viewers because there’s such an extreme contrast between his good-natured front, his stated beliefs, and his actions. He clearly loves Rose and Donna, but leaves them with a compromised version of happiness. They go on extraordinary journeys only to end up somewhere that leaves them less than who they want to be, with Russell T. Davies being more brutally honest than Steven Moffat, who nearly always goes the romance route. Davies once said to Mark Lawson that he liked writing happy endings ‘because in the real world they don’t exist’, but his endings tend towards the bittersweet: Mickey and Martha end up together but this feels like they’re leftovers from the Doctor and Rose’s relationship. The Tenth Doctor doesn’t, as Nine does, go with a smile, but holding back tears.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

It’s a testament to how well written the Tenth Doctor is that the character has this light and shade, and with David Tennant’s immense likeability he can appeal to a wider audience as a result. It’s not surprise he wins all these polls, but I can’t help but feel that if the Doctor arrived and invited me on board the TARDIS, I’d want it to be anyone but Ten.

The post Doctor Who: Perfect 10? How Fandom Forgets the Dark Side of David Tennant’s Doctor appeared first on Den of Geek.

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

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Demon Brothers being Soft for Their Daughters

Might just be me but I think there's nothing cuter than a Dad who loves his daughter so I made a hc for our boys. Strap in, it’s a long one!

IMPORTANT! Watch out for first half spoilers! Assumed that the child is a half human/half demon with the MC!

Lucifer

Tries to be really strict but ends up being kind of a pushover.

Oh there ARE rules that even his little girl can't break, but most of the time she can get away with almost anything if she's cute clever enough.

Pushes her to be the best at almost anything she tries, expectations be real high; gonna take the MC stepping in to remind him winning isn't everything and please cool it on the pressure.

Lowkey learned his lesson before and doesn't want to make another Satan situation so tries to take MC's advice to heart and not be quite so controlling.

Her favorite uncle is Mammon and he gets cold sweats about this every night.

Wasn't able to be there for a lot of her firsts due to work and gets real sulky when he misses out. Videos just don't offer the same experience...

Feels bad that work keeps him so busy so he tries to make up for it with toys, clothes, jewelry, pretty much whatever she likes at the time.

Would never admit it, but his black heart melts every time he comes home and sees she's excitedly waiting by the door.

One of those parents who will never stop bragging about how amazing their kid is to anyone who will listen, but never when she's in the same room.

100% that overprotective "I'm going to give you a brief tour of the torture chamber, then we’ll browse my whip collection. Oh, make sure she's home by 8" kind of dad if she were to ever bring home a date. They will know that his baby is not to be messed with (like anyone's crazy enough to try honestly).

Mammon

So over the goddamn moon that someone actually wanted to have a kid with him that he couldn't shut up about it for weeks.

Treasures his little girl more than anything he owns, even Goldie. When she's a baby the two of them are practically inseparable.

The biggest pushover to ever be pushed. She's about the only person he's ever unconditionally generous to and he really spoils her rotten.

She's just as materialistic as her father, honestly, but MC made sure their girl was raised with good morals. The first of which being no stealing. Ever. She works for every cent she spends.

On the one hand, he's actually pretty damn proud and relieved that she won't be called "scum" or anything like her father, but on the other hand like… Ew. Who raised you? (No one remind him it’s kind of his doing anyway).

For once in his greedy existence, he can tell a sob story about really needing that loan or those shoes for his beloved daughter and actually mean it… most of the time 😏

Even when she's young, though, she will ask him if a gift he's giving her was taken from someone else and, man, he cannot lie to her face. People shame him for stealing all the time but the little look of disappointment she gives him hurts WAY more than all of his brothers’ insults combined.

Probably one of the most supportive and involved dads in existence. He will be at every game, every recital, every meet. Even if he's complaining the whole time, if anyone so much as suggests that he just shouldn't go he'd be appalled.

…. He's perhaps a little too involved because he's also totally the kind of father who will lowkey stalk his daughter's dates to be sure nothing bad happens. MC, please step in. She needs privacy too.

Leviathan

Was incredibly worried about having a kid, he's not even had the best track record when it comes to pets and parenting is some high-level normie stuff. But his little girl's first smile absolutely melted his doubts away.

That being said… he's still not the greatest with little kids. For a long time if the baby so much as sneezed unexpectedly he'd start shouting for the MC and checking every website he can like??? My half demon baby won't stop sneezing, is it pneumonia???

Gets a lot less panicky as the child gets older, but in those early years he'd practically want to stick them in a bubble wrap suit.

He passed on his love of the ocean and underwater creatures pretty early on. The running joke is that his girl knew how to swim before she knew how to crawl.

Family aquarium trips are an absolute must.

The second they're old enough to understand plot he's introducing them to his favorite shows, but only the best (and most child-friendly) ones of course. He wants his daughter to grow into a woman of culture, damnit! Pop culture that is.

Sooo much text/chat lingo between these two. It's not her fault really. She was bound to pick it up but man can it sound like they're speaking tongues at times.

With practice she can and will beat her old man at most video games and, yes, it makes his cry tears of equal parts pride and aggravation.

Has a mini-panic attack every time she hits a new milestone, like, yes he's so fucking proud but also don't you think she's growing up too fast??? MY BABY GIRL!!! 😭😭😭

Cries like a baby to the MC when she goes out on her first date because he realized she's really, truly, growing up and he's afraid his little girl isn't going to want to spend time with her lame old dad anymore.

Satan

Tries to be strict and IS strict but mostly on schoolwork.

Her grades best not be slippin' or this Book Papa will take all her stuff away. End of discussion.

Otherwise, he's surprisingly chill being the Avatar of Wrath and all. He of all people understands the desire to just have your own life and do your own thing.

She'll inherit his temper though, that's a given, and if they both get going then watch out. Fights between them can get verbally explosive, but never physical. Even at his angriest Satan would never once lay a hand on his daughter.

Read to her every night when she was young: storybooks, novels, mythologies, didn't matter to him. Whatever she wanted to hear. Still, he was so proud the day she told him that she wanted to read on her own.

100% makes nearly everything in life a teachable lesson but also helps her when she needs it. He wants her to forge her own path but is still very supportive when the situation calls for it.

Would never EVER admit it, but he does just as many dad jokes as Lucifer.

Of all the brothers, he's probably the most typical father to have, there for his kid just enough while also making sure they're not getting away with murder.

Is totally chill with her dating because he knows he doesn’t have to be super protective of her. She can more than handle herself if something goes wrong, in fact, if he were to step in it would probably add insult to their already grievance injury.

That being said, he IS the Avatar of Wrath. If someone hurts his girl he’s going to have a turn one way or another.

Asmodeus

Oh YEEESSS, he's not normally the commitment kind of guy but he and MC raising a child? They'd be the most gorgeous thing in the universe!!! (Not counting himself of course)

Beautifying his baby since day one, but the MC keeps him from doing anything too extreme. A lot of baths, good moisturizer, hairstyling (when she grows enough of it), etc.

Soooo many outfits. She'll practically never wear the same thing twice and Asmo coordinates his own clothes to match hers all the time.

He actually goes out and parties LESS if you can believe it, especially when she's young and needs a lot of supervision. But he'll get pent up real quick so learning how to do a quiet quickie during naptime is a must.

His girl is all over his Devilgram, nearly every milestone is snapped up and recorded. He loves her more than anything and would just scream about his pride and joy from the rooftops if social media didn't provide him that outlet.

Makes sure his daughter knows that she is gorgeous, she is loved, and passes on every bit of self-confidence he has. Doesn't matter if she grows up a girly-girl, tomboy, or anything else under the sun. When you're feeling good just being you, heads will turn on their own accord!

Not the best at discipline and would only really step in if he thinks she's being a real jerk about something. Day to day attitude adjustments are totally up to the MC.

He is, however, the best sex-ed teacher one could ever ask for and makes sure his daughter knows there's no shame in what comes natural, just be sure you're respectful and responsible!

Completely unfazed when the suitors began lining up, I mean she is HIS daughter. It was inevitable. Offers tips and advice when he can but lets her go off and experiment naturally. Young love is a beautiful thing! (Just don't break his girl's heart though because he may lowkey curse your whole bloodline)

Beelzebub

….. MC, you're going to be eaten out of house and home.

Though his daughter's appetite isn't AS bad as his, Beel could tell it's going to be an issue from day one but he's ready for it.

Dedicates his freaking life to being sure she never goes one night hungry. He'll cook, he'll shop, he'll even share from his own plate if he has to. The thought of her going through anywhere near the level of starvation he feels on a daily basis is enough to crush his soul (if he has one)

You better bet there will be eating competitions. She never wins, but the fact she can even get close will have him grinning anyway.

That being said, he will push for a healthy and active lifestyle for her too.

Highkey wants her playing sports and doing team activities because he genuinely thinks it will help her stay healthy and make friends.

Just the right amount of discipline. Tries to be understanding but also knows when to call a spade, a spade and express his disapproval.

Very in-tune to her emotions and her needs even if he can’t quite grasp WHY she's feeling the way she is. Keeping up with teen drama is going to be the bane of his existence...

Uncle Belphie=That one cool uncle who lets you get away with anything and probably gives out sugar after bedtime.

One of the only brothers who makes a point of his daughter also seeing and exploring her human heritage too and not just treating her like a pseudo-demon… And it's totally not just for the added excuse of sampling human world cuisine, like, come on who do you take him for? 🤫

Somewhat cautious about her dating, but ultimately just wants her to be happy. He'll usually trust her judgment but he's pretty good at reading someone's character and if he gets real bad vibes from anyone he's not above telling her, "No. Not that one." Whether or not he's listened to depends on the situation.

Belphegor

Lol MC, you could have picked a much better choice. Borderline Deadbeat/Cool Dad here!

Kids… not his thing. He doesn't dislike them exactly, they're just a lot of work and he's sort of allergic to that. He's more of a semi-irresponsible babysitter type.

Case in point, "Belphie, watch the baby" becomes "Belphie, if you're going to take a nap at least hold onto her leg so she doesn't go anywhere."

Only saving grace is she takes after him so most days she's pretty dang sleepy too. Naptime is a good third of the daily routine (not that anyone is complaining).

Shit at discipline because, like, what leg does he have to stand on? If she wants to ditch class, why not let her? Once or twice ain't that bad.

Takes her on a lot of "field trips" to the human world like he would with Lilith. Genuinely wants her to experience both sides of her identity and encourages her to explore her human side just as much as her demon.

The kind of chill dad that you feel comfortable going to when you've got to talk out a problem or need life advice. He might not be able to offer many answers, but he tries in his own way.

Will prank his kid and will not feel sorry, but is never cruel about it. In fact, this will only spur on a mutual prank war between the two.

Uncle Beel=that genuinely nice uncle who tries to teach you life lessons and how to take care of yourself… while also eating a ton of food.

Would be super confused at first if she started dating like?? How? He kind of sees her like a mini-him at times and his human came to him. Since when did she stay awake long enough to leave the house?? But otherwise he goes with the flow. Whatever she wants, her life.

He might get a bit more agitated if she starts to date a human, like, lowkey bad flashbacks to the whole Lilith situation and the MC would probably have to cool his jets about it. Different circumstances after all.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me headcanons #obey me luficer #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me scenarios

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peppermintbee · 4 years

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OMORI has poor writing (Part 1)

OMORI stans, just block the #omori hate tag now because I’m going to use it to vent my frustrations with this game. If you love this game, I am not going to try to convince you otherwise. I am glad you enjoyed it so much. I am glad it means a lot to you. I’m not here to take that away from you. I honestly wish I felt the same way!

However, if you are like me and finished the game feeling disappointed, underwhelmed, and maybe a little frustrated, then I am here to say you are not alone. OMORI--while having the right set pieces for an interesting game--is a narrative mess.

I’m splitting this into two posts. This first post is about problems with the plot. The second is about problems with the message/moral.

(Note: I use “OMORI” in all-caps for the game title, and “Omori” in title case for the character name.)

Spoilers and criticism below.

Part 1: Plot Writing Lies

There’s a book by Brian McDonald called Invisible Ink which is about how to write a compelling story (you can read this great book online for free here). There’s an explanation of the writing “lie” that I find myself frequently thinking of. A “lie” in this context does not mean something is literally untrue, it means something FEELS untrue, unrealistic, improbable, or unlikely. For example, if a character gets shot in the leg but manages to do parkour, this is a “lie” since it seems unrealistic for that to happen. If a character witnesses their beloved parent’s death and shrugs it off, it’s a “lie” because that reaction seems highly unlikely.

In OMORI, the plot is held together by multiple little lies that--try as I might--I just couldn’t bring myself to believe.

1. Sunny’s friends care about him, and vice versa

A major theme of the game is how friendship can overcome any obstacle. Friendship gets Sunny over his fear of heights, spiders, and water. Friendship is what Sunny remembers before the final boss fight, and allows him to face his guilt and defeat it (and prevent him from committing suicide). With the photobook and dialogue you are reminded over and over and over and over and over again that Sunny’s friends love him unconditionally.

However, I just couldn’t bring myself to believe it. The childhood memories are cute but shallow, boiling down to simply hanging out and eating treats. Plus, Kel and Aubrey fight constantly, with Aubrey even physically hitting Kel when he steps out of line. Hero and Mari behave more like babysitters than true friends to the younger kids.

But at least the other kids interact with each other. Sunny, on the other hand, showed nearly no affection or consideration towards his friends. He floats through the memories like a ghost--he could have been completely absent from all the photos and it would have made little difference. I was ready to accept this as Sunny being an unreliable narrator and not thinking he was a good enough for his friends, but this never contradicted. Instead we are given even more memories where Sunny just silently exists there being “cute.”

[Sunny enriching the lives of his friends by LARPING as a cat.]

Because of the lack of meaningful interactions between them, there was nothing in the game that made me think that these 12-15 year olds would have a strong enough bond that would survive 3-4 years of no contact after finding their friend hanged. In fact, that discovery only drove them farther apart. The only person who I could believe actually had a close bond was Basil, who almost literally filled that trope of being the friend who would help you bury a body (or in this case, help Sunny cover up the accidental manslaughter).

The writing fix for this would be simple: instead of showing us the same boring birthday and beach scenes over again, give the kids memories of overcoming some age-appropriate adversity together: heartbreak over an unrequited crush, anxiety over homework, sports injury, lost dogs, divorced parents, running away from home, bullying, etc. Set a precedent of the friends supporting each other through good times AND bad times. Without such backstory, Sunny’s friendships allegedly giving him the courage to overcome his guilt feels like a lie.

2. Sunny abandoning Basil in the bathroom scene

One of the most confusing moments in the game was Sunny’s negligence when Basil has his first breakdown in his bathroom. This part of the game is player-controlled, which is a strange writing decision because all you can do is click on Basil and various bathroom amenities over and over which completely saps the urgency out of the scene. When you try to leave, Basil begs Sunny to stay, but (due to a lack of player options) Sunny walks out without a word. With no option to talk to him OR get help for him, it makes Sunny seem exceptionally cruel to Basil. In fact, I was starting to wonder if the game was setting up for some sort of twist that Sunny DIDN’T care about his friends, which would fix some of the confusion in point #1. However, as we know, that is not the case. Therefore, Sunny’s negligence/apathy towards Basil’s pain feels like a lie.

The writing fix would be to make it MORE clear that Sunny is intentionally running away from Basil. Make it a cutscene, or, give a false choice such as “Leave Basil? Yes / Yes”. After Sunny leaves, Kel should make some remark about Sunny looking odd, “You look sort of shaken up, is there something you want to tell me?” then hit it home with Sunny shaking his head. This would make it more clear that Sunny is intentionally hiding Basil’s state, as opposed to just being a bad friend. As it stands, it just felt like a writing mistake.

3. Basil and Sunny working together to stage Mari’s death as a suicide

This is the plot hole that I see the most complaints over, but it’s so big I have to address it. Accidentally pushing Mari down the stairs I understand, but the rest is too absurd. Below are some of the “lies” that the writing tries to get away with:

That Sunny and Basil wouldn’t just claim she slipped and fell.

That either boy would even come up with this sick plan.

That they wouldn’t back out of this idea during the multi-step process (carrying her downstairs, outside, getting the jump rope, tying a noose, putting it around her neck, stringing her up, hiding the evidence... This is a series of multiple decisions, not one quick accident like the initial push.)

That it’s not the image of Mari’s death that traumatized Sunny, but the image of what they chose to do to her body that traumatized them. I understand the image of Mari hanging is more dramatic, but they literally did it themselves so why is that more haunting than Sunny killing her?

That Mari’s true cause of death wouldn’t be immediately obvious to the parents, the police, the friends, EVERYONE. (I’ve seen fans try to get rid of this plot hole by hypothesizing that the parents knew and covered it up, but the evidence of this is circumstantial at best. The father saying, “You’re not my son,” is unreliable since it happens in Sunny’s headspace. Divorce is common after the death of a child, and, at the very least, Sunny’s mom doesn’t show any evidence of knowing what happened. The way it is written, only Sunny and Basil know the truth.)

The ridiculousness of this twist is so extreme that it completely broke any immersion I had left. Frankly, the reveal that the happy, loveable Mari committed suicide is a far heavier and more realistic twist than a crazy murder-cover-up story is.

Additionally, it seems like Basil was only written into this scene in order to make Sunny the true victim of what happened. After all, Sunny may have pushed her, but it was Basil who came up with the demented cover up. (This is apparent from just the photos but the datamined Truth Album confirms it.) By having Basil come up with the plan, the game splits the guilt between the two of them to make the kids easier to sympathize with. It’s problematic because if Basil was not in the scene, there would be no way to justify what Sunny did to Mari. So why is what they did easier to accept when they worked together?

Fixing the writing lie: Sunny lies and says that Mari slipped. Remove Basil from the scene, and instead have Sunny confide in Basil which forces Basil to become a co-conspirator and burdens him with the terrible truth.

4. Sunny’s friends forgiving him and Basil for what they did to Mari

Last but not least, the story heavily implies that Hero, Kel, and Aubrey will forgive Basil and Sunny for what they did to Mari. I found this to be almost as unbelievable as the staged-suicide stunt.

It feels like a lie since the group’s friendship is never established as anything beyond shallow hang outs from 3+ years ago (see point #1).

It feels like a lie because this is hot off the heels of Aubrey being so distraught over Mari and the following fall out that in the last three days she 1.) attacked Sunny and Kel with a nail bat TWICE, 2.) Stole Basil’s photobook, and 3.) Shoved Basil in the lake. This trauma is still very fresh for her.

It feels like a lie because the complexity of the staged-suicide is so extreme, one would be hard pressed to forgive ANYONE for doing that, be it friend, foe, parent, sibling, lover, etc.

I’ve seen fans argue that the ending is not about forgiveness, it’s about telling the truth, and I want to believe that. Really. If the ending was about Sunny starting his redemption arc by telling the truth no matter what the consequences are, that would be a meaningful lesson. But the writing does not support that. The ending headspace segments are focused on assuring Sunny that his friends will support/forgive him no matter what. To do this, the game shows us the shallow photobook memories (again) to show how much they allegedly care about each other. Then, when fighting Omori, Sunny remembers these quotes from his friends, which directly correlate to their unconditional support:

KEL: Friends... Friends are supposed to be there for each other.

AUBREY: I hope you can find some peace... or you know... some happiness.

HERO: We made the mistake of leaving each other when we needed each other the most. This time... we’ll stay together.

BASIL: Maybe one day... things can go back to the way they were before.

The really direct evidence that this ending is about getting forgiveness is this quote from Basil in Sunny’s headspace:

[BASIL: “AUBREY, KEL and HERO are good friends. You have to trust that they’ll forgive us.”]

This is one of the last scenes before Sunny tells his friends the truth, proving that obtaining forgiveness from his FRIENDS is in fact the leading motivation for Sunny’s actions.

Fixing this writing lie is easy. Instead, adjust the writing to be about telling the truth, not about how much the friends will still love Sunny. Have headspace Basil say, “Even if they don’t forgive us, Aubrey, Kel, and Hero deserve to know the truth. It’s the only way to make things right... or close to it.”

Conclusion

OMORI is undeniably a cute game with a strong visual identity, and has a premise that could make for a very compelling experience. However, the sloppy plot and weak character writing cause the potential of this game to be squandered. There are other issues as well that I chose not to cover for the sake of time, such as the poor pacing of the dragged out dungeons and the bizarre, unrealistic behavior of characters in the “real” world.

However, there are a few more glaring problems with OMORI that I have to address: In part 2 of my critique, I break down what may be the biggest problem with OMORI’s writing: the message.

[ Link to Part 2: OMORI’s Message is Mishandled and Distasteful ]

#omori #omori hate #omori spoilers #review #words #fun fact i named sunny 'moony' so I had to consciously change all the moons to suns in this essay #suicide cw

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oumakokichi · 4 years

Note

So what do you think of Kaede and Kokichi's relationship? And if Kaede remained the protagonist how do you think it would change?

Considering it’s Kaede’s birthday today I think this is a really fun question to come back to!

Kaede is an absolutely amazing character, and I love how different her relationships with the rest of the cast feel from Saihara’s. She and Ouma have an especially interesting friendship in their FTEs together (one of Kaede’s FTEs with Ouma might be one of my favorite FTEs ever, really), so I don’t mind going a little more in-depth on my thoughts about their dynamic, as well as about how that dynamic and the story itself might’ve changed if Kaede had remained the protagonist!

Warning for spoilers as always, though I’m pretty sure most people know about the chapter 1 twist by now.

I think one of my absolute favorite things about Kaede is just how easy it is to get attached to her in such a short amount of time. She’s only around for the prologue and a single chapter, but despite that (or rather, because of the sheer length of the chapters in ndrv3, which tend to be much longer than dr1 or sdr2’s chapters), we still get to see so many different sides of her and just how complex of a character she really is. And I think that’s largely the reason for her continued popularity to this day: Kaede might not stay around for long, but we still really feel like we know her by the end of it.

And really, I think that’s pretty similar to how the actual characters feel about Kaede themselves. Despite how short her time is with all of them, she leaves such a powerful, lasting impression, even after her death. This is a pretty big change from previous DR games, where the chapter 1 culprits especially tend to suffer a pretty big lack of relevance or relationship to other characters in later chapters. Often times the victims are at least somewhat memorable (Maizono and the Impostor both at least come up a few times in their respective games), but characters like Leon or Teruteru just don’t feel like they have much of an impact on the other characters or the plot itself after their trials are finished.

This is totally different from Kaede, whose positive outlook and outgoing attitude already makes her fairly likable to most of the others, but who also openly invites the others to rely on her once she establishes herself as a leader figure fairly quickly in chapter 1. Most of the other characters latch onto her almost immediately, either because she seems so reliable and helpful (Saihara and Tenko in particular seem to like this about her), or because they can’t help but respect her and what she’s trying to do for the group (characters like Momota, who really values group cooperation, come to mind).

Personally, I think Ouma fell into the latter category. He and Kaede have something of a complicated relationship almost right from the get-go in chapter 1, but it’s still pretty clear that Ouma did respect Kaede a lot and recognized that she had the group’s best interests at heart, even if he didn’t always agree with her methods.

Likewise, I think Kaede was somewhat curious about Ouma and really wanted to get along with him, despite how difficult he could be. We see in Ouma’s introduction, both in the demo and the actual game, that Kaede clearly recognizes on some level that part of his annoying attitude is really just his way of teasing others, and that he doesn’t seem particularly malicious. More specifically, she describes him as “having a childish streak that makes him hard to hate,” which is a pretty spot-on description of Ouma in a nutshell. In short, she knew he was annoying and childish (on purpose, most of the time) but she definitely didn’t think of him as evil or cruel. This may in part also be because she didn’t live long enough to see him embrace the fake villain routine by the end of chapter 4, of course.

Ouma has a few teasing remarks throughout most of the game, but it’s not really until the death road of despair is discovered that he and Kaede butt heads for the very first time. This is because of a big, fundamental difference between their ideologies: while both of them very much have the group’s best interests at heart, they completely disagree when it comes to whether it’s worth it to cooperate as a team or not.

By the end of the game, Ouma is extremely paranoid, refusing to cooperate with absolutely anyone unless it’s out of some mixture of chance and necessity (such as working with Momota in chapter 5). He keeps all his cards close to the chest, and refuses to confide in or trust any of his remaining classmates, believing it’s fully possible any of them could be the ringleader.

But before the events of chapter 4, we see that he’s actually not opposed to the idea of selective cooperation. He strikes up a tentative collaboration with Miu early on, commissioning her to create some extremely useful inventions with the intent of using them to try and end the killing game. He also extends an invitation of cooperation to both Kaede (in one of her FTEs) and Saihara (in chapter 4, in the parlor of the VR world), though he goes about this in such a sly, underhanded, and off-putting way that both of them shoot his offer down flat. Even he’s not beyond the idea of teaming up with people he perceives as “useful” or “smart,” as long as it’s a much smaller, one-on-one effort rather than trusting or working with the entire group.

By contrast, Kaede is someone who believes that group unity is almost a necessity if they want to escape the killing game. This is very much in line with the role she establishes for herself as a leader. Unlike characters like Momota, who has always sort of longed to embrace a “hero” role, or Saihara, who is considerably more awkward and unwilling to be a leader because of how guilty he feels, Kaede’s role is much more about boosting and maintaining the group’s morale.

This is lampshaded several times by the classical music pieces that she references, often in an attempt to either clam the others down or fire them up at the idea of working together and escaping. It’s also a fantastic little clue that her own positive outlook is something a bit more crafted than it seems on the surface; she always tries to be optimistic about things and face her problems head-on, but that’s in large part because she tries to energize herself and present that reliable, dependable persona to the rest of the group. In short, she believes that if she reveals her own uncertainty or lack of faith in her plans, the rest of the group’s trust and morale will fall too.

Like I mentioned, this difference in their outlook is really what begins to cause problems for them once they discover the death road of despair in chapter 1. Kaede sees the tunnel as their one opportunity to escape without having to rely on the killing game itself; even if it’s extremely difficult and damn near impossible to get through it, the chance of injury is a risk she’s willing to take, no matter how many times they have to start over. But Ouma disagrees with this mindset and criticizes her in front of the entire group, pointing out how everyone else is already exhausted and even injured, and saying that she has no right to make that decision for the rest of them.

He even goes a step further and accuses her of strong-arming the rest of them by “denying them the right to give up in an impossible situation.” He claims that by positing herself as an inspirational figure, she has the “moral high-ground” no matter what the rest of them do or say, and clearly doesn’t think it’s possible for them to continue down the death road without someone getting seriously injured, or worse.

These harsh words really take Kaede aback, especially since most of the rest of the group seems to more or less agree with Ouma. She’s extremely hurt—not just by the fact that no one seems to really want to keep going with her plan, but also, I think, because she felt as if Ouma was right on some level. In my opinion, this is why she cries once she’s alone in her room later: because she did feel as though she’d forced everyone else to go along with an unreasonable plan. It’s the first time that we really see the cracks in her leader persona beginning to show, as well as the self-doubt that she carries.

I honestly think many people who dislike Ouma on their first playthrough of the game may have started here, right at this moment. Because so much of this seems to be fairly black-or-white initially—Kaede is presented as the unequivocally good heroine, trying to get everyone to work together and escape, and Ouma by contrast seems mean and unreasonable for arguing with her in front of everyone. We’re not supposed to linger on the fact that he makes several good points about everyone else’s safety and exhaustion because how he goes about it is off-putting and unlikable.

Not only that, but we as first-time players aren’t supposed to know about all the similarities that Ouma and Kaede actually have in common, despite their differences on the matter of group cooperation. We’re not supposed to know just yet that they both want to save the group, no matter what it takes, or that both of them are willing to go to extreme, sometimes morally grey measures in order to try and stop the killing game. We’re not supposed to know right away that Ouma can be every bit as self-sacrificing as Kaede, despite the selfish things that he says in front of the others, or that when push comes to shove, Kaede is willing to lie almost as much as he is.

We don’t know any of that, initially—which is why that scene hits so hard and sets Ouma up to be so unpleasant. But I think going back on a replay and evaluating it again is pretty interesting specifically because of all these similarities that I’ve listed. The fact that they clash here is especially interesting, given the sort of roles they embody to the rest of the group, with Kaede deliberately choosing to be someone that the entire group relies on and finds trustworthy, while Ouma later sets himself up to become a villain who’s hated by everyone. And despite this, their goals are largely one and the same: expose the ringleader and end the killing game.

I think it’s specifically because Kaede realized she couldn’t continue pushing everyone to do the things she wanted them to, no matter how badly she wanted everyone to cooperate and escape together, and that’s ultimately why she turns to Plan B when she hears from Saihara about the bookshelf hiding the ringleader’s lair in the library. And for all that she does want to trust and cooperate with everyone else, she actually goes about this plan in the most Ouma-like way possible: by doing everything herself and without telling anyone her real intentions, not even Saihara.

Something I especially like about Kaede as a character is just how nuanced she is. Because she is simultaneously the brave, trustworthy, outgoing protagonist that we see her as, but she’s also so, so much more than that. She’s fiercely determined and cares about everyone else, yes, but it’s also because she cares so much that she’s willing to do things like lie and attempt murder behind everyone else’s back.

If we look at the audition videos as any sort of clue as to what the characters might’ve been like before the start of the game, I do think there was a somewhat more skeptical, cynical side of Kaede deep down that didn’t quite trust other people—and that’s all the more reason she wanted to trust them and work together with all of them, because she knew exactly how hard it was to do so. It’s such an interesting contrast from Ouma, who could easily have used all his lies and charm to cooperate with people if he wanted to, but who instead continually pushes people away because of his skepticism, all the while pretending to act completely arrogant and self-assured in his plans. Deep down, I think both of them were much more vulnerable than they were ever willing to show in front of other people.

And I think by the end of chapter 1, Ouma became more or less aware of that side of Kaede, once she confesses everything she tried to do to end the killing game. Prior to this, I personally think Ouma still very much liked and respected her guts and her attempts at leading the group, but that he ultimately thought she was doomed by her reliance on trust and cooperation when they didn’t even know who the ringleader was within their group. But I think that after hearing just how far she was willing to go to stop the killing game, including but not limited to lying to everyone else and going behind their backs with her own plan, he couldn’t help but respect her even more. Despite his accusations that she was too soft or naïve for trusting everyone else, her actual attempted solution was far closer to his own outlook than he initially gave her credit for.

This is why, just before Kaede is about to be executed, Ouma drops all of his usual acts and facades with her and gives her a sincere goodbye, telling her that she “wasn’t boring.” And this is really the highest compliment someone like Ouma can give: she did take him by surprise and surpass all his expectations from her, and I do believe he was genuinely sad to see her go when she attempted such a huge sacrifice for everyone else’s sakes.

Truly, the only part of her plan that I think he disagreed with was the act of (attempted) murder in and of itself. He felt that despite her good intentions, she had “crossed a line” that shouldn’t be crossed, and that she fell into the ringleader’s trap the moment the idea of murder crossed her mind. Considering how much DICE’s “no murder” taboo guided Ouma throughout the game, it’s not surprising at all that this is where he disagreed with Kaede. Though ironically, he himself crosses the same line in chapter 4 when he decides the only possible solution to Miu’s attempt on his life is to kill her himself, and therefore winds up getting his hands dirty without ever directly committing murder, much like Kaede herself.

Questioning how they might’ve gotten along if Kaede had actually lived past chapter 1 and continued being the game’s protagonist is interesting, mainly because so many factors would change as a result. Kaede and Saihara are so fundamentally different as protagonists, and Kaede herself is much more in line with what we would expect from a Hope’s Peak protagonist instead. Kodaka himself has described her in an interview as being extremely similar to Asahina, and I personally think she’s something of a combination between Asahina’s outgoing attitude and Maizono’s carefully crafted façade (not to mention moral ambiguity). So it stands to reason that the game and its themes wouldn’t quite be the same if Kaede were still the protagonist.

On the one hand, I do think there would be interesting potential for a possible alliance between her and Ouma, especially given how similar they could both be. Ouma himself proposes such an alliance to her in one of his FTEs, though she does get angry and shoots him down, as I mentioned earlier. But it’s interesting to consider if Kaede might’ve been more willing to cooperate in smaller, one-on-one alliances if she had attempted her plan in chapter 1 and failed without getting executed for it.

There’s also the fact that Ouma claims to remember her and everyone else adamantly in his FTEs with her, even going so far as to claim that she and everyone else forgot about him, even though he never forgot about them. It’s unclear whether he’s referring to his memories from before the game still being intact (which is likely, since he’s pretty skeptical of the flashback lights right away), or if there’s some other explanation for it, but personally, I don’t think it can be dismissed as a complete lie. Even if Kaede herself accuses him of lying and making it all up, he goes uncharacteristically blank and claims that “even he’s not that good at lying.”

This adds huge potential to Kaede sticking around, as there could easily be an underlying mystery element. In addition to the trials themselves and the mystery of the outside world, it’d be very possible to explore their dynamic further, as well as why Ouma said the things he did and if he was actually telling the truth about knowing her and everyone else from before. Kaede is absolutely persistent enough that I feel like she would’ve pressed him for details about this, especially once it became clear in the main plot that their memories were unreliable.

On the other hand, it’s really unclear if Ouma would’ve still been willing to offer that alliance to Kaede once she had attempted to commit murder. Assuming the events of chapter 1 stay more or less the same and the only difference is that Kaede survives instead of getting executed, this raises some potential problems with Ouma actually working together with her or trusting her. She did, as he puts it, “cross the line”—even if her murder attempt wasn’t successful, Ouma claims that she was already too far gone the moment she even considered murder as a possible solution. This could definitely cause another clash of opinions between them, especially as Ouma is much too paranoid to work directly with anyone who he thinks might kill him.

Another potential source of conflict in my opinion is the Hope’s Peak flashback light in chapter 5. Unlike Saihara, who deals primarily with questions of “truth or lies” and is ultimately able to see through Tsumugi’s false ultimatum in chapter 6 with the choice of either the “hope ending” or “despair ending,” Kaede is, as I mentioned, much more in line with what you’d expect from a Hope’s Peak protagonist. She’s extremely smart of course, but she has a bit of a reckless, headstrong streak where she tends to act based on emotion rather than reason, and this could get her into quite a lot of trouble once Tsumugi started rewriting everyone’s memories in chapter 5.

Saihara was able to see that both of the choices Tsumugi presented in the final trial were bullshit and would ultimately keep the cycle of Danganronpa ongoing, but I’m not entirely sure if Kaede would realize the same thing, or even if she did eventually realize it, I’m not sure it would’ve been in time to stop it. Because of her self-sacrificing nature, I personally think she would’ve chosen to be one of the sacrifices for the sake of “hope,” much like Amami presumably did in season 52. This ultimately means that Kaede sticking around might have ultimately led to a “bad end” of sorts, where even if the rest of the group went free aside from her and one other sacrifice, Danganronpa itself never gets dismantled and lives to see another season.

The only possible way I see for Kaede to avoid falling into this trap and making this choice is if enough of her classmates rubbed off on her or helped her see things in less black-or-white terms like “hope” or “despair,” and in more nuanced shades of grey instead. But considering how completely fooled almost everyone was in the actual events of the game, it’s difficult to say if this would happen. She would definitely need to talk and debate with someone who viewed the flashback lights a lot more skeptically, whether it was Saihara or Ouma (or maybe even Angie), before she could reach the truth about what Tsumugi and Team Danganronpa were really after.

This analysis has gotten pretty long by this point, so I’ll just wrap things up by saying that I really do love Kaede and Ouma’s friendship, and I think they had more potential of getting along than either of them might’ve realized in canon. Despite their fundamental differences, both of them were two characters who went farther than almost anyone else in trying to stop the killing game, and both of them weren’t afraid of getting their hands dirty if necessary. I think the fact that Ouma claims to remember Kaede and everyone else from before the killing game is super interesting, and I would’ve absolutely loved to see it touched on more if Ouma had lived longer.

All in all, Kaede is such an amazing, morally grey character who really helps to establish what we can expect from the rest of the game, and I think that’s part of what makes her so memorable. Maybe one day we’ll get some sort of DR:IF equivalent where we get a semi-canon look into a scenario where everyone lives, and hopefully there we could see not only more of Kaede being a protagonist figure, but also more of her interactions with Ouma and everyone else.

#danganronpa #new danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 #kaede akamatsu #kokichi ouma #ndrv3 spoilers //#my meta #okay to reblog #lamekit

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albertasunrise · 3 years

Text

Realised Too Late - Part 1

Summary: You’ve been best friends with Frankie since high school and you’ve harboured a secret that whole time that has eaten you alive. You’re in love with him. You know he only sees you as Arce (Maple), the nickname he gave you on your first day. You're just his Canadian friend, never anything more. When his life takes a series of different turns, however, you're there to support him through it but how long can you do that before it just hurts too much?

Warnings: Drug abuse, alcohol, depression, overdose, language, Angst, Smut 18+

Pairings: Frankie Morales x Reader - Ben Miller x Reader

Notes: There are some tough subjects in this one so if you're easily triggered by warnings above, don't read. This will be in three parts.

He was a shell of the man you’d known as kids, the army having stripped him of his soul and leaving him limp and boneless. You hadn’t been surprised when he’d turned to drugs for relief, he was an addict. As kids, he was addicted to exercise, constantly dragging you on hikes or to swimming events that left him buzzing after. During his time in the army, he was addicted to danger, unable to just sit on the sidelines when his brothers were out there risking their lives. When he’d retired he’d struggled. He was evicted from his flat after his last job, the neighbours complaining about the noise, the screaming as he was plagued by nightmares of the things he’d seen and done, they didn’t care he was ex-military. Or that his girlfriend had left him. So you had taken him in, held him at night as he sobbed and did everything you could to help him get better.

At first, you’d not realised that the change in him was because of the coke. He’d been happy, positive, bubbly. He’d returned to the Frankie you once knew. You’d been over the moon at his progress, happy that you’d pushed him to attend counselling and he’d sold it to you so well, made you believe he was going but he wasn’t. No, he was driving to a bar where he had a beer, sniffed some coke in the bathroom and left, returning to you with a new story to sell his lie.

You’d found the bag of powder whilst doing the washing. You’d known instantly what it was and you’d broken down immediately, unable to believe that he’d do that stuff after what he knew. What it had done to your family. He’d found you sobbing on the floor, clutching your stomach and he’d dropped to your side in an instant, pulling you into his arms.

‘Arce, what’s wrong?’ He’d pleaded and your tears had stopped almost immediately, sorrow replaced with pure burning anger that you’d never felt before.

‘You lied to me.’ You’d growled, pushing away ‘You haven’t been going to counselling have you?’

‘I have.’

‘If you continue to lie to me I swear I will kick the shit out of you.’ You'd spat, getting to your feet with that bag clutched tightly in your hand ‘This is the real reason you’ve been -happier- isn’t it Francisco?’ You continued, holding out your hand and revealing the bag that sat on your palm ‘How could you?’ You’d sobbed ‘After what I’ve been through… How could you resort to this as a fix?’

Frankie had knelt there gobsmacked, unsure of what to do or say to you. He'd not even thought about you when he’d been offered the substance the first time, he’d just focused on the fact he’d been told it would help… and it had.

‘Arce I’m so sorry.’ He’d sobbed ‘I just needed the pain to stop. He’d told me it would stop and it did.’

‘But Frankie. This shit ruins lives.’ You said, your tone changing to one with more sympathy ‘Look what it did to my family.’

Your brother had gotten hooked on the stuff after his relationship had fallen apart. His wife had left him, taking the baby with her and he’d lost it. Turning to drink and drugs to dull the pain. He’d managed to hide it well, no one ever suspecting him. One fateful day however the truth had been revealed most tragically. It had been your birthday and Frankie had organised a surprise party for you at his. Your brother had been tasked to pick up and bring your parents over but he’d taken just a little too much before getting behind the wheel. They had never stood a chance. His car was t-boned by a truck when he’d jumped a red light, everyone dying on impact. When you’d arrived at Frankie’s you’d been over the moon to see his place decorated with balloons and streamers, your friends all stood there waiting for you but his face had ripped that happiness away. He’d walked up to you, everyone else remaining where they were and he placed a hand on each arm, bracing you for what was to come and as the words left his mouth you'd passed out, falling limply into his arms.

He’d supported you through it all. The funeral. Sorting through your parent's stuff. You’d considered selling their house but he’d convinced you not to.

‘Don’t you want your kids to grow up here?’ He’d said ‘You have a story about every inch of this house. Don’t sell those stories to someone else.’

So you’d kept it. Moved in and worked on modernising it without ripping out its soul, keeping the memory of your family alive within its walls.

‘You need to stop this Frankie.’ You’d stated, snatching the powder out of sight ‘I will help you but you have to promise me no more lies.’ You’d continued, noting the relief that had flooded his expression ‘You lie to me Frankie and that’s it. You’re out.’

‘Of course.’ He’d replied, nodding hastily as his tears tracked down his cheeks ‘No more lies… I promise.’

He’d kept his promise. He actually attended counselling, his shrink calling each time to confirm he’d visited. He wasn’t aware that they did it, you’d asked them to keep it between the two of you but you’d needed some sort of confirmation that he really was trying to help himself. The nightmares had returned but after a while, they became less frequent along with the panic attacks at loud sounds. He was doing so much better and you were so proud of him. He’d then started to attend AA meetings, finding them useful. You’d gone along to the first few with him on his request but as his confidence had grown he started attending alone and that’s how he’d met her.

Lucy.

She was nice enough. She’d been hooked on coke too after leaving the army so they’d connected in a way that a lot of the other members never could. Their romance had been fast-paced and it killed you. You were happy he had someone, of course, you were… You were just devastated that it wasn’t you.

‘So Lucy’s having a few friends over on Friday. She wondered if you wanted to join?’ He asked as he sipped at his coffee ‘She’s desperate to get to know you.’

‘You talk about me with her?’ You asked, raising your brows as little in surprise.

‘Of course, I do.’ He replied, giving your a bemused expression ‘You’re my best friend. Why wouldn’t I?’

You shrugged, sipping at your coffee as you looked at anything but him, desperate to hide your heartbreak from him. He didn’t notice, just continued to speak as he supped at his black coffee, oblivious to your pain.

‘So will you come?’ He asked with hopeful eyes.

‘Sure.’ You reply, praying something comes up that means you can’t go.

Nothing does.

‘So you’re the famous Arce?’ She asked, shaking your hand when Frankie brought you over.

‘That I am.’ You replied, smiling sheepishly at her.

‘Frankie’s told me all about you.’ She stated, giving you a warm smile ‘You’ve been quite a friend to him.’ She stated ‘Especially with his coke addiction. Most people who have been through what you have would have run a mile. He’s lucky to have you.’

You give her a small nod but inside you’re screaming. She thanks you for coming and apologises for having to go, food needs to be checked. As soon as she leaves you turn and walk to the door, tears streaming down your cheeks.

‘Hey whoah! Where are you going? What’s the matter?’ Asked Frankie as he grabbed your shoulders and stopped you in your tracks ‘Why are you crying?’

‘Fuck you, Frankie.’ Was your reply before you shrugged out of his grip and left, ignoring him as he called after you.

You ignored his calls and texts as you laid there curled up on your couch, praying that he'd choose to stay with her that night but you didn’t get such luck. He walked through the door a little after 1 in the morning, toeing off his shoes and hanging his coat and cap up before stepping quietly into the house. He heard your silent cries and found you curled up on the couch, an empty bottle of wine laying on the floor in front of you.

‘Lucy was really upset that you left.’ He stated, his tone angry ‘That was really rude.’

‘Get out.’ Was your reply, barely above a whisper.

‘What the fuck is your problem?’ he growled, his patience spent ‘She was nothing but nice to you and then you just fucking leave.’

‘She isn't the reason I left.’ You spat, venom dripping from every word as you sat up and glared at him ‘You’re the reason I left.’

‘Me?’ He questioned, pointing at his chest ‘The fuck did I do?’

‘You had no right to tell her.’ You growled ‘You had no right…’ You trailed off, feeling more tears threatening to spill.

‘Tell her what?’

‘You know what Frankie.’ You yelled, scrapping a hand over your tear-stained face ‘There are a handful of people that know the truth about how they died. I choose who I tell, not you.’

‘Arce-.’

‘I’m going to bed.’ You interrupted, getting up from the couch and heading upstairs, leaving a guilty Frankie in your wake.

He didn’t come home for a few days after that evening. You assumed he was trying to give you some space but you didn’t care, you were just too hurt. When he did come back you saw something different in him, something had changed and not for the better. He was withdrawn, quiet. Spending more time in his room or under the hood of his truck than anywhere else and you found yourself worrying about him despite the anger you still felt towards him.

‘Frank, what’s going on with you?’

‘Surprised you care.’ He snarled, pushing his food around his plate with his fork.

‘Fuck you, Francisco. Of course, I care.’ You spat, slapping the table with your hand and making him jump.

You weren’t expecting him to cry.

‘She’s pregnant.’ He said, taking you by surprise.

‘And you’re not happy? You’ve always wanted kids… what changed?’ You asked, your confusion evident.

‘I do want kids.’ He replied, lip trembling ‘She doesn’t.’ He continued ‘She’s booked herself in for a termination next week.’

‘What?’ Your heart shatters ‘Did she even consult you?’

He simply shook his head and you felt your anger bubbling beneath the surface again.

‘I was over the moon when she told me.’ He affirmed, pushing his place away and leaning back in his chair ‘I practically sobbed with joy but then she told me that she was terminating it. Said she’d never wanted kids and that it was the best thing. No kid deserves two junkie parents.’

‘But you’re clean… Aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’ He replied, slightly exasperated ‘And I would do everything in my power to remain clean for that kid.’ He paused, sniffing as he wiped away his tears ‘I begged her to reconsider but she refused. Said that if I couldn’t support her decision then she didn’t want to be with me.’

‘Frank-.’

‘I thought this was it.’ He stated ‘I thought I’d finally found someone I could be myself with, raise kids with.’ His works sting more than he’ll ever know ‘I didn’t think after… After them that I’d ever get a chance to be a dad. I guess I never will.’

You have to push your pain to one side and comfort him. He and his ex had been expecting, he’d been so excited but after Santi had dragged him on a job in South America that had resulted in the death of his commanding officer and them all leaving empty-handed, he’d returned to learn that she’d lost it and left him. You were sure that had contributed towards his downward spiral into drugs, little did you know, he’d had a problem before that. He’d hidden it so well for so long.

‘Frankie I know you’re destined to be a dad.’ You said softly, taking your hands in his ‘You’ll find the right woman one day.’

‘I haven't left her.’ He said suddenly ‘I love Lucy. I just need some time to grieve the baby.’

‘Frank-.’

‘I love her Arce.’ He stated ‘We can work past this.’

You leave at that.

You cried yourself to sleep when he’d moved in with her. You’d helped him pack, drove boxes over to her in your car but you’d hadn’t stayed when they invited you in, unable to bear being around him a moment longer. After that, you ignored his attempts to contact you. Didn’t answer the door when he came knocking. You just let yourself fall into a dark depression, one you didn't think you’d ever recover from and you didn’t expect Benny to be the one that pulled you out of it.

‘What’s going on sweetheart?’ He asked, holding you as you sob into his chest.

‘I’m just so alone.’ You sobbed ‘I’m the plain friend that everyone relies on but no one loves. God, I’ve not been asked on a date in years. My life is a mess and now Frank’s gone and I’m all on my own.’

‘You’re gorgeous babe.’ He said, placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head ‘Anyone would be lucky to have you on their arm.’

‘You don’t need to be nice to me Benny.’ You chuckle, pulling away from his now tear-stained chest to look at him ‘I know I’m not desirable. I never have been.’

Ben looked at you with a troubled expression, unable to believe that someone so beautiful could be so neglected and feel so unappreciated. He’d had a thing for you since Frankie had first introduced you to them all but he’d never acted on it. You were Frank’s best friend after all. You were off-limits.

‘You’re one of the most beautiful women I know.’ He stated, tucking some of your stray hair behind your ear ‘You deserve the world.’

You stared at each other for a moment, your eyes dropped to his lips and his gaze followed suit. The air shifted as he cupped your cheek with his large hand, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek as your eyes locked with each others' again. Then he leaned in and he kissed you, smiling when you gasped in surprise.

It was soft at first, chaste but as you shifted closer to him, legs straddling his lap, he deepened it and you moaned as your tongues dance. It was then a blur of touches, moans and the removal of clothes but the next moment you were truly aware of was him sheathing himself inside of you, kissing you sweetly as you gasped at the stretch.

‘You okay?’ He asked softly, blue eyes searching for anything that told him you didn’t want this but you simply nodded and pulled him into a hungry kiss.

‘Move please.’ You begged ‘Fuck me, Benny…. Please.’

That's all the permission he needed and he started to cant his hips, pushing himself as deep as he could go before withdrawing and slamming back. His pace was slow at first, unhurried, but as your moans grew filthier and filthier he sped up his thrusts, hitting that sweet spot with every movement.

‘Fuck I’m gonna cum.’ You whined, nails digging into the muscles on his back and it spurred him on ‘Fuck…’

‘Let go.’ He growled against the shell of your ear and you did.

You screamed as he made you cum hard, dragging him right along with you and after a few more thrusts to prolong your high’s he collapsed on the couch beside you, kissing you languidly as he stroked your cheek.

‘Let me take you out.’ He said, bumping your nose with his.

‘Okay.’ You replied, grinning at him as you kissed him again and wrapped your hand around his length, pumping him lazily ‘But first, we’re doing that again.’

‘You’re bringing your girlfriend to guys night?’ Questioned Will as he sipped from his beer.

‘I’m crazy about her boys.’ He replied, smiling like a loon as he thought about you.

You’d fucked twice more that night before you’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, the sex that following morning being the best of all. That evening he took you to dinner and then again the day after that and you quickly fell into a relationship that had you feeling happier than you'd ever been. You’d both decided to keep it a secret at first, just take each day as it came but after being together for 4 months you decided that it was time to reveal to the boys but you were scared of how Frankie would react. The two of you hadn’t spoken much after he’d moved out.

‘Fine but if you’re bringing your squeeze then Fish should bring Lucy. Not fair for the poor girl to sit with three guys all night.’

‘Fish? Think Lu would come?’ Asked Benny, eyes wide and eager.

‘Don’t see why not.’ He replied with a shrug ‘She’s wanted to come out with us for ages so…’

‘Great then that's settled.’ Replied Ben, beaming as he sipped his beer.

He just hoped Lu’s presence would take away from the fact his girlfriend was you.

You sat in the booth, clinging to Ben’s hand for dear life. Your heart was pulsing in your throat, hands shaking as you watched the door for the others to arrive. Will had texted to say he’d be about an hour late but Frankie had confirmed he was running on time. You'd both decided to arrive a little early to get a round in, a little liquid courage you'd supposed. When Frankie walked in, Lucy behind him you felt your stomach twist in knots.

‘Sorry, we’re a little late.’ He said, not looking up as he shoved his keys in his pocket ‘Traffic was crazy…' He trailed off as he looked up, seeing you at Ben’s side ‘What are you doing here? Where's your girlfriend Ben?’

Ben simply put his arm around your shoulders, smiling at Frankie nervously and giving your hand under the table a squeeze.

‘You two?’ He question, motioning between you both with his pointer finger ‘You two are together?’

‘Yes.’ You replied simply, unable to hide the wobble in your voice.

‘Are you fucking serious?’

‘Fish-.’

‘My best friend Ben… Really?’

‘I’m crazy about her man.’ He stated ‘We kept it quiet because we were scared to tell you but we’ve been dating for coming up to five months so we felt it was time you knew.’

‘I managed to get away early. Boss was… wha-‘ Will’s mouth dropped open when he saw his brother’s arm around your shoulders ‘You two?’

‘Yes us two.’ Growled Ben ‘We’ve been dating for almost five months, things are amazing and we thought it was time to make it public.’ He finished, rolling his eyes.

Frankie was glued to the spot, hands shaking as he stared at Ben’s arm around you and h.e felt something he’d not experienced before with you. Jealousy... and he wanted nothing more than to rip Ben off of you and pull you into his arms.

‘Babe?’ Piped up Lucy as she tugged on his sleeve ‘You want a beer?’

‘Uh - Yeah…’ He replied, shaking his head before slipping down onto the bench beside him ‘Thanks, baby.’

She gave him a sweet peck on the cheek and made her way to the bar, leaving him to return to staring at you and Ben.

‘Well, I for one am over the moon for you both.’ Said Will, grinning ‘You look really good together.’

‘Going to make beautiful babies.’ Ben joked and Frankie felt his stomach drop, noting the glint in your eyes as you beamed at the younger Miller.

‘Bit soon isn’t it?’ Boomed Will, letting out a breath chuckle.

‘Nothing wrong with thinking about the future.’ You stated, sticking your tongue out at Will before turning your head towards Ben and kissing him sweetly.

Frankie wanted to leave. He didn't want to stay here and watch you kiss his friend but he knew he had no right to be jealous. He was with Lucy. He'd picked her.

‘Of all the people you could date, why her?’ Yelled Frank, feeling his anger overflowing ‘Why her Ben?’

‘Why does it matter?’ He shouted back.

‘She’s my best friend!’

‘Who you’ve barely seen since you moved out!’ Spat Ben ‘She was so fucking depressed man. You’d left and she felt so alone. Did you ever show her that you appreciated what she did for you when you lived with her? Tell her she was beautiful? Tell her what she meant to you? Because she thinks she is the plain friend, doomed to be alone.’ Ben paused, scrubbing his hand over his face as he glanced at the restroom door ‘I have been into her for years. I held off because I knew she was your best friend but I couldn’t hold back any longer. She’s amazing and I’m falling hopelessly in love with her Fish. She deserves the world and I intend to give that to her.’

Frankie stood there with his mouth agape. He’d realised at that moment how selfish he’d been. He’d never made you feel appreciated, loved. He’d ignored your pain and now he knew that fact his mind was replayed the moments it had slipped out. He’d been so blind to it but now it was too late. He was too late.

Frankie Morales was in love with you… and he’d lost you to Ben.

When they'd returned to the table, Frankie had remained fairly silent as he desperately tried to quieten the anguish in his heart. He wished he'd never realised what he felt, he wished he'd remained ignorant of it but he knew he didn't really love Lucy. He never had.

Your heart raced with a mixture of nerve and excitement as Ben fucked you against the wall of the locker room. You could have been caught at any moment but you'd found yourself begging him for it before he’d lifted you by the back of your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing your underwear to the side and slipping his throbbing length into your heat, silencing your moans with his mouth.

‘You gotta be quiet for me baby.’ He whispered, lust blown eyes locked with yours ‘Fuck you’re so beautiful.’ He panted as he rocked his hips, hitting that spot perfectly with each thrust of his strong hips.

‘F-fuck.’ You moaned, biting your bottom lip to stifle the filth that wanted to slip from your lips.

You could feel yourself fast approaching your orgasm and you latched onto his shoulders as your forehead fell against his, eyes remaining fixed on him

‘I love you.’ You whispered, smiling at the grin that swept across his face.

‘Fuck… I love you too baby.’ He replied, increasing his pace as he desperately tried to make you cum before him.

…

Frankie stepped into the locker room but stopped in his tracks when he heard it. Laboured breathing, stifled moans and he peeked around one of the lockers to see Ben fucking you against the wall. Your forehead was resting against his, mouth hanging open, knuckles white as you gripped onto his shoulders.

Then he heard it.

‘I love you.’

‘Fuck… I love you too baby.’

He managed to drag himself away after that, ears just catching your moans as you climaxed and he felt his heart break. Seeing you with him like that being the final nail in the coffin for him.

…

You couldn’t hold back the pleasured sob that escaped your lips as he made you cum, his release following straight behind yours and you kissed his deeply as you clutched onto him tightly, willing your heart to slow.

‘Fuck that was hot,’ Chuckled Ben as he lowered you to your feet ‘Good thing the boys didn’t arrive early.’

‘Would you have stopped?’ You question as you gave him a devilish grin.

‘Not sure I’d be capable of stopping.’ He replied ‘You feel too good.’

‘Mmm good answer.’ You replied as you pulled up your panties and kissed him sweetly ‘Love you.’ You said against his lips ‘Feels good to tell you that.’

‘Feels good to hear it.’ He replied, kissing the tip of your nose.

‘Look who I found making a run for it.’ Stated Will as he emerged from behind the lockers, arm slung around Frankie’s shoulders.

‘Where were you going?’ Asked Ben as he sat on one of the benches in the centre of the room and started to wrap his hands ready for the fight.

‘I uh…’ His eyes locked with yours and you saw something in them that makes your stomach twist Did he see us?

‘I don’t feel well.’ He stated, lifting his cap to adjust his hair underneath.

‘Nothing a beer can't fix.’ Will stated, pulling Frankie towards him and started to head to the ring ‘Meet you guys in there.’

You nod, watching as he led Fish away and then you turned to Ben with a mortified expression.

‘What?’ He asked upon seeing it.

‘I think he saw us.’ You replied plainly, hands shaking as you studied Ben’s reaction.

‘Fuck.’

You were dragged away from Ben’s lips by a knock at the door, the younger Miller groaning as you got off of his lap and padded across the room to your front door, taken aback by who you found standing there.

‘Lucy?’

‘Is Frankie here?’ She asked, her tone a little panicked.

You took her in. She looked unwell, a familiar gloss coating her eyes and you knew she was high.

‘No.’ You replied plainly, unable to hide your distaste at the state she was in ‘Why?’

‘We broke up a few weeks ago.’ She started, taking both you and Ben by surprise as he came up behind you ‘We’ve been texting the past few days. He was sad about something, has been sad for a few months now. He was supposed to come by today to grab the last of his things but he never showed. I tried calling but he isn’t answering. I’m worried about him. Thought maybe he’d come here.’

‘Where has he been living since he moved out?’ Ben asked, snaking his arm around your waist and giving you a friendly squeeze.

‘He found a flat.’

‘What's the address?’ He asked, grabbing the sticky notes and pen from your side table and noting it down as Lucy said it ‘Right. We’ll let you know if we hear from him. Go home and wait. He may still turn up. We’ll go check his apartment.’

Lucy nodded, her whole body trembling from a mixture of worry and need for her next fix. You recognised it, seen Frankie go through it and you felt a flicker of sympathy for her. She did really care about him. Ben called her a cab and saw her off before you both jumped into his truck and headed to the address she had given you, leg bouncing nervously as a terrible feeling washed over you. Your stomach dropped when you arrived, his door wide open and you'd both sprinted inside to find him seizing on the floor as someone, you assumed a neighbour, was on the phone to the emergency services beside him.

‘Frankie.’ You screamed as you fell to his side, cradling his face as his body was rocked with convulsions but Ben was glued to the spot in total shock. You felt sick as you watched his face, eyes rolling back as his seizure seemed to intensify and then it seemed to stop as abruptly as it had started and you sobbed as you rested your forehead against his.

‘Hold on please.’ You begged ‘Help’s coming. Just hold on.’ His breathing becoming more and more laboured.

You were pulled away by Ben as Frankie was then swarmed by medics, the neighbour who’d been there when you'd arrived coming to stand at your side.

‘I heard a scream, like none other I’d heard before, and then a crash.’ She started ‘He’s a nice boy. Gave me a spare key after he managed to lock himself out one night shortly after moving in. I let myself in and he was just laying there…. Then he started to fit and I-.’

‘You did really well... Miss?’

‘Roberts.’ She replied.

‘Well, Miss Roberts. We can’t thank you enough.’ Said Benny as he gave her a friendly smile.

‘Please keep me updated.’ She begged ‘Here’s my number.’ She said as she handed him a card ‘I won’t rest easy until I know he’s okay.’

‘We will.’ He replied, noting you following the gurney out the door ‘I promise.’ He shouted over his shoulder as he followed, leaping into the ambulance and sitting at your side.

The next few hours were a blur. Will arrived at the hospital around half an hour after you and Ben had and now the three of your sat waiting patiently for news. Ben held you tightly, stroking your hair as you clutched to him for dear life. Lips moving in silent prayer.

‘What happened?’ Asked Will, looking at his brother.

‘Lucy turned up asking if we’d seen Fish.’ He started, placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head ‘They broke up like a month ago apparently. He’s been living in town. She gave us his address and when we turned up his neighbour was kneeling beside him as he was having a fucking seizure.’

‘Do you think?’

Ben just widened his eyes, not wanting you to know what he thought. He didn’t think it was right for you to hear it from him if his suspicions were right.

‘Who’s here for Mr Morales?’

‘We are.’ Replied Will as the three of you stood.

‘Is he?’

‘He’s alive.’ He started and you all breathed a sigh of relief ‘But he's lucky to be.’

You all looked up at him with concern and waited for him to elaborate.

‘He overdosed on Morphine.’ He stated and your hand flew up to your mouth ‘It looks to be deliberate. He took enough to cause death. He knew what he was doing.’

‘No Frankie wouldn’t do that.’ You sobbed ‘He wouldn’t try and kill himself.’

'Shhhh.' Hushed Ben as he pulled you into him, stroking your hair in an attempt to soothe you.

‘He went into respiratory distress shortly after arriving but we managed to bring him back. He’s resting now and I’m confident that he’s going to recover. However we recommend that he be sectioned, his files show that he suffers from PTSD and that he’s a recovering cocaine addict. We fear he’s a danger to himself.’

‘No.’ Growled Ben ‘We’ll take care of him.’

‘Ben…’ Will scorned.

‘We’re not having him sectioned.’ He spat ‘We’ll take care of him won’t we baby?’

You nodded without hesitation.

You were allowed to see him a little while later and he’d been awake when you'd arrived but the pain in his eyes had made your stomach twist in knots. The way he’d looked at you made you feel sick to the stomach and you’d almost left, unable to bear seeing him like this.

‘Why Frankie?’ You managed to ask after a short period of silence, taking a seat beside his bed and taking his hand in yours.

‘I couldn’t do it anymore.’ He replied, choking on a sob that fell from his lips.

‘Do what?’

‘I realised too late.’

‘Frankie, what are you talking about?’ You pushed, brows furrowed in confusion.

‘I realised too late and now you love him.’

Your stomach dropped and you withdrew your hand.

‘I’m in love with you Arce.’ He declared ‘It hurts knowing you’re with him. That you love him.'

‘What are you saying Francisco?’ You grumbled ‘Are you telling me you tried to kill yourself because I’m with Ben?’

He didn’t say a word but you could read it in the look he was giving you.

‘Arce-.’

‘No, fuck you, Frankie.’ You spat, clutching your stomach as your sobs overthrew you ‘I’ve been in love with you since high school. I've borne the pain of loving someone that didn’t love me back for over a decade. It fucking hurt but never did I tried to take my own life because I couldn’t have you.’ You paused and his mouth dropped ‘Not even when you told me that when you met Lucy you'd found someone you could "be yourself around"... Those words cut me to the bone but I pushed past it and supported you. Ben is wonderful to me. He loves me. Makes me feel like a goddess. So the fact you "realised" you were in love with me after Ben and I got together… Well, that’s just shit Frankie because I love Ben. I’m finally happy after so long. This...’ You point at him and the hospital room around him ‘What you did was fucking selfish. I don’t- I can’t-.’

‘Arca.’

‘I need to leave.’ You sobbed as you got to your feet and sprinted from the room, not even stopping when Ben called your name.

You couldn’t stay here a moment longer. Not after he'd told you, you were the reason he tried to take his own life. He'd gone too far now.

Frankie moved in with the Miller brother for a little while after leaving the hospital. You’d avoided him, but you hadn’t told Ben what he’d said in the hospital. He’d tried to call, send several texts but you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to speak to him. He'd destroyed whatever had been left of your friendship the moment he'd swallowed those pills.

‘Fish’s really worried about you baby.’ He said softly, brushing his nose against yours ‘Baby he’s a mess. He's desperate to speak to you.’

‘I can’t.’ You replied.

‘Why the fuck not?’ Growled Ben, head shooting back ‘You two have been friends forever. He almost died baby. He needs his friends.’

‘Ask him why he did it.’ You growled, eyes darkening ‘Ask him why and then you’ll understand why I can’t speak to him.’

So that’s exactly what Ben did and Fish had been honest in answering him, leaving Ben in an impossible position.

‘The fuck you mean you’re in love with her?’ He yelled, instantly regretting raising his voice when Fish flinched ‘Is this why you freaked when you found out?’

‘No… Yes…. Sort of.’ He grumbled as he scraped a hand over his face ‘I didn’t realise until I saw your arm around her that I was… and always had been in love with her.’

Ben collapsed onto the couch, his stomach dropping.

‘She said she’d loved me since high school. I’d been blind to it until she had told me and then it had become so painfully obvious.’ He paused, eyes locking with Bens ‘But I’ve lost her to you now. She loves you.’ He hiccups ‘She deserves to be with a guy like you.’

‘Fish…’

‘Ben please.’ He begged, raising his hand to silence him ‘I know what I did was selfish but I was in a hole so deep I saw no way out. Now I’ve lost her completely.’ He threw his head into his hands and sobbed ‘I’ve fucked everything up so badly.’

From that day Ben made it his mission to repair your broken friendship. He had eventually managed to sit the two of you down, making you the both of you talk and after the two of you finally got the truth out there you were able to start to repair the tattered remains of your relationship the two of you had once treasured so much. You’d offered to let him move in again, something that Ben had actually suggested one evening over dinner. Things had been a little awkward at first, especially on the nights when Ben stayed over but as the days faded into weeks. Weeks into months. You found that you were able to fall back into the routine you'd had before, with Ben being an added extra. You'd blinked and a year had passed, your relationship with the younger Miller getting stronger and stronger. He'd moved in with you soon after the anniversary, something that Frankie appeared to take well but little did you know it was eating him alive under the surface. The selfish part of him had hoped that by the two of you living together again, that he'd have a chance to woo you but you were too in love with Ben. He'd never stood a chance. So as the months went on, Ben became more permanent and as time went on you both talked of the future, of what you both so desperately wanted.

‘I’m going to miss you.’ Ben panted against your lips as he thrust himself deep into your heat, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from you as you arched your back to urge him deeper ‘Fuck I’m going to miss you so much.’

‘I’ll miss you too.’ You whined ‘Fuck… Ben.’ You pleaded as your hands grasped at his toned ass ‘Harder… please.’

He did as you asked, increasing his pace and you moaned loudly before throwing your head back in a silent scream. It didn’t take long for him to make you cum for the third time since you'd started, growling against the shell of your ear as you bit down on his shoulder to muffle your scream.

‘Fuck baby.’ He grunted, thrusting half a dozen more times before filling you with his cum. ‘Pillow.’ He said and you grabbed one for him, raising your hips so he could slide it under.

‘You think it’ll take?’ You asked, smiling at him warmly.

‘God I hope so.’ He said as he placed a kiss on your stomach ‘Can’t wait to see you round with my baby in your belly.’

‘You’re cute.’ You giggled, pulling him into a kiss ‘Do you have to go?’

‘You know I do baby.’ He said softly, kissing you softly ‘But I promise I will be back here as soon as I can. Fish’ll take good care of you whilst I’m gone.’

‘Three weeks is such a long time.’

‘I know but think about it this way… When I come back, we can do a test and hopefully.’ He pauses to kiss you sweetly ‘It will tell us we’re going to have a family.’

‘Well, when you put it that way.’ You grinned ‘Perhaps we should do it at least once more… Just to be sure.‘

‘God yes.’ He growled as he kissed you deeply again, feeling himself growing hard again.

‘I read that doggy is an excellent position for conceiving.’ You stated, looking at him seductively 'Allows for deeper penetration.'

‘God I love you.’ He growled as he flipped you onto your front, kissing up your spine as you got onto your hands and knees.

‘Put a baby in me, Benny.’ You begged, wiggling your ass a little as you grinned at him over your shoulder.

‘Would be my pleasure.’ He purred as he pushed himself into your heat again, groaning in unison with you.

The pace he set this time was mind-numbing, the sound of his hips slapping against you only making you more aroused. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he pounded into you and you felt the coil inside you start to tighten, threatening to snap at any moment.

‘Touch yourself.’ He ordered and you shivered at the pleasure his command brought you and slipped your hand down your body and began to rub the bundle of nerves between your thighs, crying out as he started to hit your sweet spot over and over.

‘Fuck baby I’m close.’ He whined, gripping you tighter as he sped up again.

‘So am I.’ you replied breathlessly.

‘Good.’ He growled, pounding into you mercilessly and then you cum together before collapsing on the bed with him still very much inside of you.

Pulling out of you he arranged the pillow underneath your belly so your hips were raised, hoping gravity would help the process along.

‘God I can’t wait to have a baby with you.’ He panted as he laid down beside you, stroking your cheek affectionately.

You beamed at him, taking his hand in yours as you came down from your high. You prayed his seed would take, that he would return to the best news in the world. You’d both decided to keep it a secret, for now, wanting to surprise them all but little did you know that Frankie now knew. He’d walked past your door just as you’d asked Ben to put a baby in you and his heart had shattered.

He’d never get you now.

Part 2

#frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #francisco morales x you #francisco morales fanfiction #francisco morales #francisco ‘catfish’ Morales #frankie ‘catfish’ morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier x you #ben miller x reader #ben miller x you #triple frontier #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #fanfiction #frankie morales x reader

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spine-buster · 4 years

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 34

A/N: Soooo this is the penultimate chapter. This feels very bittersweet to post because we all know how the series turned out. Anyway, other stuff happens to, but the series...🥺

August 8th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was thinking about last night. Again.

And she shouldn’t be. She was having breakfast with the team for God’s sake. Everyone was eating pancakes or waffles or avocado toast and she was fantasizing about William fucking her raw from behind and watching him through the mirror. She could swear she still felt his slick and hard cock inside of her. She could swear she still felt him pounding her from behind and grabbing on to her mouth to silence her and—

“Aberdeen.”

—her whimpering and trying to be quiet and the same time—

“Aberdeen.”

—and his low, guttural grunts as he fucked her and made her be quiet and—

“Aberdeen!”

She snapped out of it. She looked to her right to see Jason looking at her like she was crazy. “Your phone is ringing,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world – because it was. The thing was blaring out for God knows how long and she was just sitting there.

She grabbed it, not bothering to look at the number, and brought it to her ear. “Hello?”

“So what did the boys get up to last night?” Alec Young’s voice asked from the other end.

That brought her back down to earth. She got up out of her seat and made her way towards the doorway, where it would be much quieter. “What did they get up to?” she feigned ignorance.

“You can’t tell me that after a win like that all they did was go to bed,” he said in a tone of voice that made Aberdeen want to punch him through the phone. She couldn’t believe he was the one responsible for editing her piece, that it was him who was a deciding factor on whether or not she got a job with the magazine. “Did they sneak girls into the hotel? Prostitutes? Did they get one for Matthews for scoring the overtime winner?”

Aberdeen sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. William Nylander fucked the president’s assistant. They’ve been carrying on a secret affair for the better part of a year now and nobody has a fucking clue. They were so desperate for each other that they broke every bubble guideline so he could fuck her raw in her bathroom as she bent over the marble vanity. How’s that for a scoop? “With all due respect, Alec…”

“Aberdeen, come on.”

“I’m trying to take the more balanced approach, the more human side, the—”

“There’s gotta be something!”

She sighed again. She knew he was more or less her editor and all, and her job depended on him, but she was on her last nerve. “You want something? Okay, here’s something. Two days ago Courtney Muzzin and her daughter Luna stood outside of the Royal York Hotel with a giant sign on Bristol board that said ‘We love you, Dada’ and aimed it directly at Jake’s window,” she said, the edge very evident in her voice. “I can’t lie, Alec. I can’t just make up stories about drugs and prostitutes and whatever else you think is going on here. They can fucking sue me.”

“Aberdeen, we need a story. If you don’t give us the story, you’re not working at Toronto Life. That’s it,” he said, hanging up.

Aberdeen felt her chest tighten. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go back on her morals. She couldn’t just…betray her friends. Her family. Her work family, but her family nonetheless. She had to stay resolute. She was going to get this job, and she was going to get it whether Alec approved of her story or not. She was going to get it whether Alec wanted her there or not. She was going to get it whether he liked her writing or not. She was going to prove him wrong. She was going to do it on her own terms, with her own talent. She was going to bank on herself.

When she got back to her seat, Jason was still eating his breakfast. She picked up her fork and ate a piece of watermelon before moving on to her yogurt parfait. “Who was that?” he asked.

She shook her head slightly, signaling that she didn’t want to talk about it. But when Jason continued looking at her, she knew he wasn’t going to let it pass. “The guy that’s responsible for editing that article I’m submitting to Toronto Life,” she said.

“What did he want?” Jason asked.

She sighed. “He wants a story filled with booze and drugs and women, because he’s convinced so many of you are still like that,” she began. “He thought we would have ordered a stripper or something for Auston last night for scoring his overtime goal. He doesn’t think Courtney and Luna Muzzin standing outside with a sign about loving daddy is going to sell magazines.”

Jason nodded his head in understanding. He’d been around hockey for such a long time – he understood completely where Alec got his mentality from. “And you refuse to write that.”

“It’s not just that I refuse to write it. I can’t write it. None of it would be true. Imagine me writing about you guys with hookers and blow? I’d get sued!”

Jason chuckled. “And he doesn’t get that? How’s this guy an editor for a prominent city magazine?”

“Beats the shit out of me,” Aberdeen shrugged, fiddling around with her spoon. “But…that’s my issue. I’ll figure it out. I’ll write something that will blow his mind and make him wonder why he ever thought he wanted me to write about hookers and blow in the first place.”

Jason smiled. “Atta girl.”

Jason continued to eat as Aberdeen continued to fiddle with her spoon. She looked across the room briefly to see William chowing down on some avocado and a piece of toast. He was scrolling through his phone and, periodically, would look at something Pierre would show him one-third of space away at the table. Less than ten hours ago his body was pressed up against hers. Now they were separated by a sea of tables and hockey players.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked Jason suddenly.

“Anything,” he didn’t even look at her when he answered.

She hesitated for a second. “If…I mean…if things don’t go the way we want them to go tomorrow…” she began.

“You mean if we lose,” he interrupted, finally staring her dead in the eye. “You can say the words Aberdeen. It’s okay.”

“If we lose tomorrow…I…what should I do? Like, how should I act? What should I say? I don’t want to make you guys even more upset by saying the wrong thing.”

“I doubt you can make anyone on this team upset—”

“Jason.”

He sighed. He set down his flatware and brought his hands together. “I think being there physically is good,” he began. “Like, just being a presence. Telling the guys you’re there if they want to talk. Don’t bring it up unless we do. Some guys are more open. Others bottle it inside and never want to talk about it. You have to figure out who’s who in that sense.”

“I just want to be a good…support. I don’t want to be that person that seems apathetic because I don’t care about hockey as much as you guys. I know how important this is for all of you. I know how hard you guys are working to get it done. I just want to make sure everybody, like…knows that, you know?”

“They know, Aberdeen,” Jason said confidently. “And I’m not just saying that. Trust me. They know.”

***

“How many words do you have now?” William asked through the FaceTime call. They were lying in bed together. Virtually. As always, he was less than 50 feet away in his own bed. Aberdeen felt cold without his touch, now that she had felt it in the bubble. It took every ounce of strength and willpower within her not to sneak into his room and beg him to fuck her again.

“I’m at five thousand right now,” she answered. “I got a call from Alec today. He’s such a dick.”

“It sucks that you’ll have to work under him. I mean, if he’s even your editor at the magazine. He might work in a different department or whatever.”

Aberdeen shuddered at the thought. Him becoming her boss would be a nightmare. Beth Zadakis – who Aberdeen originally met with – would be the much better choice in her eyes. “Here’s hoping he is in another department,” she bit her lip. “But enough about me, Willy. How are you feeling about tomorrow?”

“I don’t know…” he said, giving his own shrug. “I’m not nervous or anything. I just…I know what I need to do. I know what we need to do. We just gotta do it.”

“D’you remember what I told you before we got in here? That I’ll love you whatever happens?” she asked. William nodded his head. “That still stands. Whatever happens tomorrow, I love you.”

William nodded his head gingerly. “If we lose…” he began softly, “it’s gotta be, like, a media blackout for at least a week. Until they make us do those exit interviews or whatever.”

“Deal,” Aberdeen nodded.

“It’s gonna be bad if we lose, Aberdeen,” he warned her. “You’ve never experienced it before because you don’t watch or whatever, but they’ll be saying a whole bunch of shit—”

“—I won’t listen to any of it—”

“—No, Aberdeen, listen,” he cautioned, his tone of voice more serious. “They’ll be saying a whole bunch of shit about me. I didn’t produce, I didn’t perform, I should get traded, blah blah blah. Same shit, different day. I’m always the scapegoat. I just…I know how emotional you got when you read up on everything near my birthday. I just don’t want you getting upset. I’ll never forgive them anyways, like in general, but I’ll really never forgive them if they make you cry again.”

“I won’t, Willy. I don’t – you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I just want to protect you, minskatt.”

“I know you do,” she smiled softly. “But none of that matters. All that matters is that I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

August 9th, 2020

In the end, it wasn’t shitty play. It wasn’t a patented Leafs Meltdown™. It wasn’t that they weren’t trying. It wasn’t even anything bad.

It was just a hot goalie.

That was the most Aberdeen could have asked for, she guessed. She didn’t really know, because at this point, she was devoid of emotion. Everything in her was just…empty. She couldn’t feel a thing. That was, until, the camera showed a close up of the bench, and she saw Jason hunched over, his head down.

That was when the tears started. She couldn’t care less about Kasperi beside him. It was Jason that she cared about. Here he was, near the end of his career, signed with his hometown team for league minimum trying to chase his dream of winning a Stanley Cup with the team he grew up watching. And now, in this wonky season of benched home openers and valued leadership to a stopped and re-started season due to a global pandemic, everything around him came crashing down. Having to leave his family, his wife, his four daughters, all to chase the dream, all for it to disappear.

“Stop crying,” Brendan said from beside her. She couldn’t discern his voice. He wasn’t giving a command. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t angry. But it was obvious that he wasn’t happy. He barely blinked as he looked down at the ice, hands shoved in his pockets.

Aberdeen wiped her tears quickly with the back of her hand. “Sorry,” she said meekly, knowing she was offering absolutely nothing.

When the buzzer rang and the teams lined up to shake hands, she made her way out of the box, waiting for Brendan and Kyle to follow. But they didn’t. She waited and waited and waited but they weren’t coming. She peeked back into the room and watched as they stood still, looking down at the ice until the last of the team made their way through the tunnel. Aberdeen realized then that they were staying because the camera was on them. Of course it was. The media was going to squeeze every emotion out of the boys until they were shells of themselves. She bet two of them were being forced into media interviews right now, barely out of their hockey gear.

When they finally made their way down to the locker room, it was eerily quiet. That’s the first thing Aberdeen noticed – the lack of noise. It was so different from just two nights ago when they were all screaming and hugging her. When she walked in behind Brendan and Kyle, and finally saw their faces, she immediately looked for William’s. He looked so defeated. So broken. For a guy who was very apathetic in front of the camera, making it looked like nothing phased him, he was definitely showing his emotion now. Her breath hitched in her throat as more tears threatened to spill. After William, she looked for Jason – then she really had to stop the sob.

She didn’t know if Sheldon had already given his post-game speech. She was almost sure he did, because Kyle and Brendan took so long, and because she absolutely knew he wouldn’t end the night with what he ended up saying, the only thing she heard him say. “Pack your bags tonight. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

They’d been through a hell of a season. A wonky start. A shitty coach. A coaching change. A loss to their own Zamboni driver. A fucking worldwide pandemic. A bubble. The media was never on their side. And—

“Go to the media room, see how the conversations are going,” Brendan said, his voice low. “Send Morgan and John out as soon as possible, then make sure the media know about their future availability. We have to speak to the team.”

She furrowed her brows at him. Why would he banish her from the locker room so he could talk to the team? “What are you gonna say?”

“What’s it to you?”

He heart froze. So he was angry. And he was taking it out on her. “Fine,” she huffed. “I thought we were a team, but I guess not.”

***

Nobody ate when they got back to the hotel. There was no point. Everybody just disappeared back into their rooms, probably to pack, probably to wallow in their own self-pity for the night until they had to leave tomorrow and face the world, probably to just lie in bed and stare at the ceiling for hours. Aberdeen knew that’s what she would be doing.

Well, after she got to the bottom of one thing.

“What did Brendan and Kyle say to you guys?” she asked William on the phone.

“I can’t tell you.”

She furrowed her brows – not like he could see her. “What? You can’t tell me?”

“I can’t tell you,” he repeated. “It stays between us. In the locker room.”

“I…you’re being serious.”

“Of course I am. It’s…I can’t tell you.”

Aberdeen knew she wasn’t going to get it out of him. She’d have to give up. Not that she wanted to. “Well, I love you. I’ll always love you,” she said instead, changing the subject. “I’m sorry things didn’t go the way we all wanted them to.”

“I am too. This fucking sucks.”

Suddenly, there was a knock at her door. She rose up immediately from her bed. “Please tell me that’s not you,” she said. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“What’s not me?” William asked, confused.

Aberdeen stopped. She took her phone off her ear. “Who is it?” she asked out loud.

“It’s me,” she heard Brendan’s voice from the hallway.

She threw her phone dramatically across the room and onto her bed. She threw it so violently it almost hit the wall. “Let me get my mask!” she called out, grabbing one from the dresser before hooking it onto her ears. She took a deep breath before she opened the door. When she did, Brendan walked straight into her room. She was shocked. “You’re coming into my hotel room?”

“Oh fuck it, we’re leaving tomorrow morning,” he mumbled, waving off her concern. The door shut behind her as she walked into her own room gingerly, watching Brendan pace back and forth. He stopped when he noticed her. “I want to apologize for what I said to you today after the game,” he said. “It was out of line.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“There are just some things that need to be said to the team only Aberdeen. Meaning the players. You’re part of the team but it’s—it’s—”

“Don’t worry. I get it.”

Brendan stopped, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “For my entire life I’ve wanted this team to be successful. My entire life. I was born two years after their last Stanley Cup win. And growing up, I adored this team. And when I was a player – it didn’t matter that I was a Red Wing. I love them, too, but in a different way. Not the way I love the Toronto Maple Leafs. And when I was given the opportunity to be the president, I made sure I would never take it for granted. And I made sure – I made a promise to myself – that I would be the one to see this team to victory. And every time that we don’t get to that victory, I break that promise,” he said. Aberdeen understood completely. “None of…this is about you, of course. This is about the team. This is about promises that we make to each other. Promises that we make to ourselves. Promises we make to get better, to succeed, to climb that mountain and get to the promised land. This is about the integrity of our character. The pride we have in this hockey club, to put on that Maple Leaf every night.”

Aberdeen stayed silent. Brendan was bearing his soul to her. Every word he was saying was impassioned and coming directly from his heart. She didn’t want to speak, because there was nothing she could say. She watched as he took a few steps forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “You’re part of this team, Aberdeen. I think you always will be to these boys. You were the soul of this team this year.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”

“I do,” he said confidently. “I know so.”

“How do you know?”

“Because their soul is hurt right now, but it hasn’t died,” he said. “It’s still there. They still have it in them. Just like you have it in you.”

***

August 10th, 2020

Aberdeen stood absent-mindedly off to the side, the bus being loaded with the team’s bags. Some of the boys had already gotten on the bus. She should have gotten on too, but her feet were planted firmly in place for some reason.

Fifteen days in the bubble. And now it was all over.

“Hey Aberdeen?” she heard Auston’s voice from behind her. She spun around to face him. “I’m sorry we couldn’t do it for you. Like, for your story.”

***

Kasha came to pick up Aberdeen. She brought Minerva in her carrier, who kept meowing at the sight of Aberdeen. Aberdeen took her out and cuddled her against her chest, giving her tons of kisses.

She watched Tyson do the same to Ralph, wondering if he’d still be on the team next year.

***

When she and Kasha got back into her apartment, Aberdeen went straight to her bed. She plopped down dramatically and only moved when she felt Kasha standing in the doorway. “D’you want to go out? You finally have some freedom,” Kasha suggested. “We can go for tacos, for brunch…”

Aberdeen perched herself up on her elbows. “Do you think I’m the soul of someone? Or something?”

Kasha looked at her strangely, but answered the question nonetheless. “I definitely think you have the capacity to be for someone. You know I believe in the concept of soulmates. Why do you ask?”

“For who?”

Kasha shrugged, but a small smile appeared on her face. “For William.”

“Why William?”

“Because from the few times I’ve seen you to interact together – like last year, and then at the Halloween party – he looks at you like you already are his soul.”

***

“You should come over for lunch one of these days,” Jason said to her on the phone. “Jen would love to have you over. I’m sure the girls would love to see you too.”

Aberdeen smiled into the phone. Jason Spezza was deflecting. This was not part of their original conversation. “When you’re okay, maybe I will.”

“I’m always okay,” he defended.

“You’re not right now,” she said definitively. There was no beating around the bush. “But you will be. At your own pace. And when you’re good to go, I’ll come over. And you better cook and let me and Jen sip margaritas in the backyard.”

Jason laughed his infamous laugh. “Deal.”

***

August 11th, 2020

“Media blackout?” Aberdeen asked William on the phone.

William nodded his head on the FaceTime call. “Media blackout.”

“I’ll come over tomorrow when Kasha’s back at the office,” she said. “We can cuddle.”

“That’s all I want to do right now, to be honest.”

***

August 12th, 2020

With Kasha going into the office, Aberdeen was able to sneak away to William’s. He let her in easily, without much fanfare, and he enveloped her in a hug and brought her down with him on the couch as they lay their together, every limb wrapped around the other. Aberdeen was running her fingers through William’s hair soothingly as his head lay on her chest. Hockey was still on in the background. Alex was still playing, and William wanted to support him. Aberdeen already knew he’d be calling his brother after the game.

“I love you so much,” she whispered out of nowhere. She just felt the need to say it.

William looked up at her. “I love you too.”

“That last night at the hotel, Brendan told me I was the soul of the team this year,” she said. His comments were still on her mind. “Do you think that’s true?”

William nodded his head. “I do. I think you’re my soul, too.”

***

The kisses were slow at first. Needy. William needed her. He needed to be comforted. His brother wasn’t around to talk to, and it was the middle of the night in Sweden so he couldn’t call his parents, although Aberdeen was sure they would have picked up the phone if they saw it was William calling in the middle of the night. So until he could speak to his brother and his parents, Aberdeen would be there for him, kissing him as they lay facing each other side-by-side on his couch. There to console him. There to comfort him.

They kissed for a long time. Such a long time. It told Aberdeen that William needed that intimate physical contact, not just flat-out sex, and that he was savouring his time with her as much as she was with him. But who was she kidding? He always did. He always savoured his time with her. It didn’t matter where, or when, or how, or how much they’d lied to the people around them to get some alone time. By the end of it she was sure her lips here swollen and red, and when she opened her eyes to look at his, his were too. So puffy. So soft. In their glory.

She felt his hand dip beneath the hem of her pants and grab the flesh of her ass to squeeze it. She hooked a leg over his torso and could feel his growing erection graze her thigh. She shivered at the feeling, digging her nails into his bicep.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry we couldn’t do it for you and your story. I won’t forgive myself if you don’t get that job,” he revealed.

“Shhhhh…” she cooed, cupping his face and kissing him. “What did I tell you before we got into the bubble, hmm? I love you no matter what happens in there. I love you Willy. I always have and always will.”

“I love you too, minskatt. I need you. Do you need me?”

Aberdeen’s heart fluttered at his question. She nodded her head automatically and gave him a quick kiss. “I need you. I’ll always need you.”

With their pants and underwear pushed down their legs, William slipped himself into her slowly, watching the look on her face change and hearing the long sigh escape her mouth. This is what he loved most about their physical relationship. They could do anything and it would feel like the best time every time. They could have regular sex. They could explore a new position. They could have rough, passionate sex like that night in the bubble. They could have close, intimate sex like right now. Each time was incredible. Each time he loved more than the last.

Each time, William realized how much he needed Aberdeen, and how much Aberdeen needed him. They needed each other.

“You feel so good, Willy,” Aberdeen’s voice brought him back down to earth. The pure euphoria in her voice was music to his ears. “I need you, Willy. I need you.”

He moved his hips to thrust into her, and so did she. Their bodies moved together as they always did, and the pleasure they experienced together was paramount to absolutely anything and everything.

After they both came together, William squeezed his arms around Aberdeen and pressed her against his body even closer than they were before. He nestled his face into the crook of her neck, dragging his lips along her skin until he got to her ear. “I need you more than anything,” he whispered. “You’re my entire life. You’re my entire soul.”

She believed him.

***

August 25th, 2020

Aberdeen was with Camden when the news broke. She was spending the day at her parent’s house because Camden had admitted he missed her, so Aberdeen decided to spend the day. They played video games. They watched Brooklyn 9-9. They went on a bike ride around the neighbourhood with masks on and stopped at a local shop to grab some smoothies. It was perfect sibling bonding time while Siena slaved away in their bedroom studying God knows what for God knows which course come September.

“Did you see the news?!” Camden asked as he emerged from the smoothie shop with both their smoothies.

“See what?” Aberdeen asked, thinking the worst.

“Kasperi was traded!” he announced as he handed her the mango smoothie she requested.

“What?!” she shrieked, grabbing her phone out of her back pocket. She hadn’t looked at it since they went on the bike ride about an hour ago, because she wanted to spend actual quality time with her brother. Now, she saw that she missed the alert from the Leafs app on her phone, and a slew of texts from Willy.

“Yeah. He got traded to Pittsburgh—”

kappy just called me he got traded to pittsburgh just got told r u around? can i come see u? ok so ur not at ur place… ur not at Scotiabank r u?

“—for a first-round pick.”

“A first?!” she shrieked again. She was shocked. Shocked. She didn’t know how Kyle was able to finesse a first-round pick for Kasperi fucking Kapanen. Her mind was in three places at once as she thought about the trade, her brother standing in front of her, and William’s texts. For all his faults and questionable judgement in girlfriends, Kasperi was one of William’s best friends. She knew it would hurt William to see him leave. That’s probably why he was trying to find her.

I’m at my parents hanging with Cam today. He missed me.

i know

You know?????

“Cam, I think we should head home,” she said, hopping back onto her bike.

Camden’s eyes lit up. “Why? Do you think Brendan Shanahan will want to call you?”

He was so cute. To think she was important enough that Brendan Shanahan would call her about a trade. She let him think so. “He might…” she said, opening the Leafs app on her phone. “Let’s just go. You lead the way.”

It wasn’t the smartest choice, but as they biked through their neighbourhood back to their house, Aberdeen read the statement on her phone. PRESS RELEASE -- -- -- The Toronto Maple Leafs announced today that the hockey club has completed a trade with the Pittsburgh Penguins, acquiring the Penguins' first round selection in the 2020 NHL Draft (15th overall), forward Evan Rodrigues, forward Filip Hallander and defenceman David Warsofsky in exchange for forward Kasperi Kapanen, forward Pontus Aberg and defenceman Jesper Lindgren.

So Pontus was leaving too. Another Swede. Aberdeen wondered if William had a strong opinion on him leaving as well, but she doubted it. She thought about what was going through William’s head as she and Cam continued their bike ride home, but as they turned on their street and they got closer to their house, she noticed a car parked on the street. A very familiar looking car.

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ…” she mumbled to herself.

“Whose car is that?” Camden asked, speeding up. “Don’t people know they’re not allowed over houses anymore?!”

Aberdeen mentally prepared herself as she and Camden walked through their front door. And that’s when Aberdeen saw him: William sitting on her couch with her mom, mask dangling from his wrist as he held a mug of tea. “There you two are,” her mom smiled.

“WILLIAM!” Camden screamed as he kicked off his shoes.

“Hey buddy,” William smiled as he watched Camden’s face light up. He watched as Camden readied himself to run over to him for a hug but then stopped himself. It made William sad, knowing Camden couldn’t do what he wanted to do. “How are you?”

“I’m good! I’m – do I have to get my mask? – are you staying for dinner – are you going back to Sweden? – are you—”

“Whoa whoa whoa, slow down young man,” Orla smiled at her son. “I don’t think you’ll be needing your mask. And yes William will be staying for dinner—”

“—YES!—”

“And no, I’m not going back to Sweden. I don’t want to have to quarantine again. I’m done with quarantining,” William added.

“Me too!” Camden said, exasperated, as he plopped himself down on the couch next to him, sipping dramatically on his smoothie. “I haven’t seen anybody besides these guys since March!”

***

Aberdeen was sure William was a near-perfect human being when it came to interacting with Cam. That afternoon saw them playing street hockey and video games, with Aberdeen even leaving them alone together while she helped her mom make dinner. When Mirza came home from work and saw William, his face lit up. Even Siena was happy to see him, despite her stress from studying.

Maybe this would make it easier for when she had to tell everyone that they were dating…eventually.

William promised to drive Aberdeen home, which meant Orla and Mirza could escape into their room to sleep and not worry. They gave Cam special permission to stay up well over an hour passed his bed time. It was only when Aberdeen told Cam that he needed to get ready for bed that she and William had their first moments of alone time the entire day he spent at the house.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t talk about the trade. I know you’re probably feeling like shit right now seeing your best friends being shipped off. Are you okay?” she asked as they lay on opposite ends of the couch.

“Much better now,” he said, his voice soft. “I love your family. They make everything better.”

She smiled. “I think Cam just has so much energy and asks so many questions that it takes your mind off of it,” she giggled slightly.

“That’s part of it, but it’s more than that,” he said. “It’s your mom’s cooking and your dad’s smile and Siena’s, like, stares. It’s Cam being so cute. It’s this house and the vibe, like at Christmas. It’s everything.”

Aberdeen couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “For what it’s worth, they love you too.”

“Do you think we’ll have a family like this?”

Aberdeen would have frozen if she was uncomfortable with the line of questioning and what William was insinuating. But she didn’t, because she wasn’t. She nodded her head before reaching between their bodies to tickle his fingers with her own in a small, unnoticeable sign of intimacy. “I do,” she said softly.

“I love you, Aberdeen.”

“I love you too, Willy.”

“Aberdeen?” Cam’s voice suddenly rang out as he walked back into the living room with his pajamas on.

Their hands separated quickly. “What is it, Cam?” she asked.

“I saw your name all over hockey Twitter.”

Both Aberdeen and William shot up. “What do you mean?” William asked.

“What the hell are you doing on hockey Twitter, Camden?” Aberdeen asked sternly. “You’re twelve.”

“Joey at school has an account and he shares it with me!” he said, as if that would make Aberdeen calm. It just fuelled her anger and made her want to punch a twelve year old boy named Joey. “It was because Saylor Greene talked about you. Who’s Saylor Greene? Does she work with you?” Camden asked.

Aberdeen’s heart fell into the pit of her stomach. William jolted off the couch and typed something into his phone as he walked outside. “Give me your phone,” she held her hand out at her brother.

“But Aberdeen—” he watched William leave to go outside.

“I said give me your phone now,” she repeated.

Camden handed it over. She began to scroll through the screen to see the tweets he saw, and read what he’d just read.

@leafsbabe34: saylor greene is having a meltdown on her twitter about the leafs. she’s a psycho

@coolcoolcool: good luck to kasperi Kapanen and his psycho girlfriend in pittsburgh. Pens PR never ever puts up with this type of bullshit so it will be interesting to see what happens to her. Good riddance.

@amandaaalove44: she brought so much drama to Toronto…bye bye saylor!

Okay…innocent enough. Aberdeen still didn’t like Camden reading all of this but she didn’t see any mention of her name. How the hell was she being dragged into this? She scrolled some more, reading much of the same tweets, and then she saw it.

Aberdeen’s stomach was in knots as she read all the tweets, all the insinuations, and all the outright accusations. Saylor was naming her without naming her. Any hardcore fan would probably know who she was talking about. Hockey twitter would definitely know thanks to the Blueprint birthday video. She felt sick. She felt sick as she saw Saylor’s replies to everyone’s tweets, calling them out and being downright rude to people she didn’t even know. She was sick as she saw fans commenting on the situation and bringing her name up because they knew it was her.

“Aberdeen?” Camden’s voice was soft, confused, as he watched his sister furrowing her brows at his phone screen. She looked at him. “I’m sorry I was on hockey Twitter.”

“You have to promise me to never go on there again,” she said. “I mean it Cam.”

He nodded his head. “I was just trying to see what they were saying about William.”

She inhaled. “Now you really can’t go on there again. Not until you’re thirty.”

“Sixteen.”

“Deal. Now come here,” she extended her arms.

Camden went in for a hug. “Where’d William go?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Let me hug you in silence because you’re gonna become a teenager one day and you won’t let me do this anymore.”

Her phone buzzed from beside her. Brendan’s name flashed atop of a text message. I’m taking care of it. And as she continued to hug Cam, she could hear William’s voice vaguely from outside on the deck. “This is twice now with a girl you’ve dated. TWICE!!!!!”

***

August 26th, 2020

“How many words do you have left?” William asked as he massaged Aberdeen’s shoulders.

“I’m just editing,” she said, reaching her hand over and placing it on one of his. “I’ll be done within the hour. I promise.”

William bent down to give her a quick kiss. “You got this.”

***

To: Alec Young [[email protected]] Cc: Beth Zadakis [[email protected]] Bcc: From: Aberdeen Bloom [[email protected]] 23:15 08/25/2020

Hello Alec and Beth,

As requested, here is my 10,000-word report on the NHL Bubble experience. Please note that I have also included photos to accompany the text. I have received express approval from those in the photos that they can be used for this article. If you would like me to send proof of permission, please let me know.

I hope you enjoy my work and choose it for publication in Toronto Life. I understand that the article may, perhaps, be a departure from what was expected. However, I believe the work speaks for itself.

Best, Aberdeen Bloom

***

August 27th, 2020

“So what happens now?” William asked.

“We wait,” Aberdeen said, her breath shaky.

186 notes · View notes

buckysgoldenheart · 4 years

Text

Hotel Room: August Walker x Reader

Summary: August, sick of you jumping from location to location trying to escape him, broke into your hotel room to interrogate you about you leaving him months earlier.

Words: 2952

(First Person) (Both August x Y/N POVs)

**It is August, but in my head August isn’t evil, more just temporarily morally confused, so in this he’s an okay guy.**

Warnings/notes: angst, fluff, internal emotional thoughts (which always make me uncomfortable), mentions of sex. cursing somewhere.

****So the edit directly below was done by @eastwesthomeisbest for this story. I meant to add this to my story ages ago but something reminded me today, and i’m glad it did, because this edit made me so happy that I wanted to share it again. I love it so much! All of the edits made by @eastwesthomeisbest are freakin amazing!****

August POV

I would wait all night in this room if I had to, just to see her face and find the look I am horribly desperate to see in those eyes. The one I hope will reassure me of her feelings.

I want to believe that she can’t fool me; that I am as confident in her love as I seem to be, but she rules me in every way. If at any time, any single moment, anywhere, in front of the entire world, she told me to kneel before her, I would kneel like the begging puppy she doesn’t even know I am.

The silver knob of the door jiggles the slightest and a sudden fear bubbles up inside me that squashes my determined facade like a fly. What if she isn’t alone? What if she has some unworthy idiot she plans to take to her bed?

But no. Thank God.

Once on this side of the door, she closes it quietly behind her as if not to disturb anyone sleeping in the same hall and leans her forehead against the wood. She sighs, and I worry over that sound.

She doesn’t look up when she asks how long I have been in her room. She sighs again, and I worry again. I can feel her exhaustion from 10 feet away. It floats to me, hoping I might let some of the burden seep into me through my every pore just to relieve her. And if it were a physical possibility, I wouldn’t hesitate to take not just some of it, but all, until nothing weighed her down and she could straighten her spine for the first time in a while.

“Not long.” I say, pushing myself upright from my leaned position on the wall beside her.

She lifts her head and graces me with a glance. A tired glance, but something of a gift, nonetheless. “Get out. I’m in no mood.”

I cross my arms because they make my muscles bulge in a way that she could never resist. And I think that if that doesn’t get to her, well, at least it shows her I’m still strong, I’m still determined, despite how being around her always turns my brain to jelly. “I need to talk to you. That’s all I want.”

She would groan if she had the energy. I can tell by the way her lips thin when I say anything. “Then speak if you find it so absolutely necessary but make it quick, will you. And skip the part explaining how you found me again. I’m getting really tired of the whole ‘you’re not good at covering your tracks’ bit.”

I’m pushing her to the brink. She fakes nonchalance, but she’s irritated, at best. She’s the kind of irritated that has the ability to turn into something much worse over time, and I know if a baseball bat were nearby, mustering enough strength to beat me to a bloody pulp would not be as hard for her as I wish; but she has yet to kill me, so I say: “Fine. I am in love with you.”

She scoffs and puts her hands on her hips. My hips. They belong to me. They are for me to touch and grab and love. “So you have said, repeatedly. Is that it?”

“You are in love with me too, and I want you to come home.”

A beautiful, sarcastic chuckle sings in my ears. “Wow.”

“The truth is the truth.”

“I am not in love with you!”

“Yes, you are.”

She rolls her eyes, but all it does is lighten my heart. “You really are insane.”

“You love me. You do now, and you did when you somehow managed to pack up and leave in the middle of the night without me noticing. Which I still can’t figure out. Until that night, you couldn’t so much as shift in the bed beside me without me waking to make sure you were fine and safe.” I shake my head. I had replayed that night in my head too often for any sane man, and still couldn’t understand how she disappeared like a wraith. “But I woke up the next morning with you not next to me, because somehow you had slipped away without a trace.

“Apparently not, seeing as how you keep finding me wherever I go.”

“I told you a long time ago, I would always find you. If anything ever happened, I would protect my woman.”

“I’m not your—”

“I know you don’t want to believe it, because I was a bad guy who did some bad things; a bad guy you heard had done even worse things, unspeakable things, but this feeling is real despite that. Our connection…”

“We have no connection!” She yells before running her hands down her face. She is tired of this, but if I give up now, she will never allow the word ‘love’ to pass my lips in her presence again, if she even chose to speak to me.

“Y/N, I don’t want to be without you. I can’t stand another second without being able to have you, or hold you, or kiss you, or make love--”

“Stop it, August!” She snaps. “You live in fantasies and think just because you say things over and over that they eventually become truth and everyone around you will accept it as such.”

“We are not a fantasy! You and me, we are--”

“We are nothing!”

A quiver echoes around the room.

A crack in her shell.

Tears began to dribble down the soft cheeks I once kissed.

I move but she steps back with every inch I advance until the icy chill of the wall is flush against her back. And I see it: false hatred masking underlying fear in her eyes; a fear she has had since we met, a fear of loving me.

I brace an arm on the wall, my palm flat next to her face as my other moves to her body, down her arm, to the curve of her waist, to the silky soft flesh peeking from under her sweater for me to stroke with my thumb as the rest of my fingers firmly grip her hip. My hip.

“We are everything to each other…and you know it,” I say as I meet her eyes. They glisten, wet and shiny and beautiful in a way I hoped I would never be the cause of. Her teary gaze is unblinking, in utter disbelief that I was touching her again, that she was letting me touch her again.

“Don’t,” is all she whispers; one final plea as I firmly grasp the last brick of the wall she put up to keep me out and throw it away, out of sight where it could never be found again…I hope.

“August…” Another whisper.

“Y/N, I know I scared you and I know you heard a lot of bad things about me, but I would never hurt you, ever. And I’ll step away, I will, I promise I will, if you tell me to.” I never wanted to lie to her, but as the last of those words come out of my mouth, I know that is exactly what they are: A lie. I won’t ever step away.

I inch my head down to hers, my face closer to hers, my lips a hairs width away from hers, praying she won’t shove me away.

“Just tell me to.” I whisper against her lips.

But she doesn’t and so I press my lips to hers, taking her rosy, plump bottom one between my own.

She tastes the same. Too many months without this taste is like coming home after being at war and I savor every single generous second.

Then I feel it. A movement of her lips over mine, a small pressure that forces a moan from my throat, tingling both of our lips. I don’t waste another beat pulling her to me. Remembering this sensation of our bodies molded so perfectly together is intoxicating. I won’t, I can’t let her go. Not now. Not ever again.

Y/N POV

I’m still.

So still.

I can’t move, and I tell myself it is only because he has trapped me; that my anger is strong enough to paralyze me; that he is abusing me, and I just see too much red to focus on that fact. I tell myself that the chill running down my spine is from the wall he has me up against.

He looks at me like he wants me. It’s the way he has always looked at me. Devouring. Begging. Desperate.

He is moving, somehow closer than he already is and my body reacts to him, sensing a familiar stinging heat though his skin has yet to touch mine. I can feel my heart’s uncontrollable excitement and I’m screaming for it to shut up, to stop beating for him, stop humming for him, just stop living if that’s what it takes for him to go away. But it won’t, or can’t, or just doesn’t want to. I have no idea anymore, but I can’t look away from the hand inching its way toward my arm.

If you touch me, I will kill you, I repeat over in my head.

But it, he, moves closer.

If you touch me, I will kill you.

And closer.

If you touch me…

He looks at me, right in the Y/E/C of my eyes and the air is sucked from my lungs.

…I will kill you.

Then he touches me.

His hand rests gently on my shoulder and skims down my arm over the fabric of my too-thin sweater. My waist feels it and my belly flops as he strokes the skin that hasn’t felt his touch in months. It sings for him, my skin. It cries in relief and thanks me for not shoving him away.

Finally, it moans.

I think this must stop, now. Break the contact. Don’t let him control you. You have fought so hard to become the woman you are, a woman who needs no one, and now is not the time to give in to this feeling, but it feels so good and he has only stroked a thumb, a simple thumb, along an insignificant amount of my skin.

I am numb to everything but the fire of his fingertips.

“Don’t.” What a pathetic whisper. A lie.

But his gaze is unwavering.

“August…” I cry his name in my head over and over, but once again, my mouth fails me and it comes out so quietly, so soft.

He tells me he will stop if I tell him to. But his face is so close, his lips are so close. I feel his puffs of breath stroke my skin and it warms me from head to toe.

He whispers something again, but the blood rushing in my ears doesn’t allow me to comprehend. I think I need to pull away.

Not now, my mind screams at me. Don’t be an idiot, it yells.

He kisses me and my brain shuts down. I only feel softness and slight pressure and a moan that tingles my lips, but I can’t tell who it came from.

The taste is the same. His taste is the same. It’s sweet with hints of whiskey he must have had recently and it shoves me back in time, into the body of the woman who let her guard down and was dumb enough to fall in love with a man like him. Then I move my lips, just my lips, and I’m pulled so close to him. I feel his muscles; firm ridges and valleys through his shirt against my stomach and breasts.

It’s too much and not enough.

My hands seem to rise on their own accord and slide to his arms, up to his shoulders; the opposite trail he had touched me with. He groans into our kiss as his arms hold me tighter than I thought possible.

By the time my fingers are resting on the back of his neck, pressing his lips harder to mine in the first greedy act I have taken, he’s hoisted me up. His hands grasp my bottom to secure me and I am forced to remember the last night we had together before I left.

Every feeling I had the last time I was on top of him, sinking down onto him, moving my hips in a way that made us practically weep from pleasure, swallows me whole. I remember the feel of his fingers as he grabbed my backside to keep me firm against him.

Imprints were left that night. Stinging from where he would roughly slap a cheek. Bite marks on my shoulders, my neck, my breasts, that didn’t disappear for days. He made sure to claim me in every way possible again and again.

And now he was back for me, my heart, my soul, my love. And he would not waste a single drop of the flood that was pouring out of me.

I plant my palms on the stubble of his jaw and tilt my head, parting my lips to give us the chance to deepen this kiss, and it allows him to slip his silky, soft tongue in to caress mine.

He turns us and walks to the large bed in the middle of the room, never breaking our kiss, before gently laying me down on the plush comforter and ripping his shirt off over his head.

He really is the same, I think. Everything is exactly the same. Perfect in every single way. Strong shoulders, and thick arms, and toned abs that lead down to a defined V that disappears under the waist of his pants. And he’s looking at me like I brought him back to life, just like he did for me before I ran.

“Come here.” I whisper, reaching out a hand for him to take; reassuring him that I want him, this, everything he has to offer me.

He gives me a tentative look and for once I see the vulnerability that being together can bring out in us. He’d perfected his craft of illusion long ago, but now I sense little of that mask.

August takes my hand in his and I tug lightly. He catches himself from falling completely on top of me and gently lowers his body onto mine in the most delightfully sensual way anyone could.

August POV

She’s looking at me in a way that’s going to destroy me from the inside out; like I’ve hung the sun that only shines for her, and all I want is to see that look every minute of every day until I’ve memorized it so well I see it in my sleep.

‘Come here,’ she says, and reaches out her delicate hand. Fuck, I remember those hands on my body, and I’m almost not sure I can handle it again. If I have her now, I will need her forever, and it’s terrifying how much I want it.

But I take her hand and let her pull my body on top of hers, and I kiss her because I have to. Because if I don’t, I will lose my damn mind. It’s a horrifying feeling that only her lips can relieve, and I drink in every second that she lets me savor this; that she lets me kiss her top lip and then her bottom; lets me delicately bite one.

And when she moans, dear god, when she moans, my whole body tenses with desire for her. I want to wrap myself around her and run my hands through her silky, Y/H/C waves. I want to tear her sweater off and slip her pants down, until she is bare for me and me only, so I can show her just how in love with her I really am.

I want to feel every inch of her and rediscover every dimple in her flesh, every freckle, and every tiny mole that even she doesn’t know she has. Every scratch, every scar, and that section of stretch marks that I once ran my fingers along before trailing the length of them with kisses, I want only to be for me.

No one else, right? I want to ask her. There’s no other man but me, is there? Please let there be no one else. But she loops her arms around my neck and tugs me closer like she wants me to sink into her so we can just be one, and my mind momentarily flies out the window. Other men or not, from now on she is mine.

Then she pulls away and I’m afraid I’ve suddenly scared her, desperately wracking my brain for what I could’ve done in a matter of seconds. But she takes in a deep breath and her Y/E/C eyes meet mine as my name is lucky enough to be a sigh that passes through her plump lips.

“August…” She says again, and I close my eyes, dipping my forehead down to hers. I inhale and exhale. I would wait a million years for any words she would be willing to give me. “I do love you.”

And I was right.

She is going to destroy me.

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tags: @dugan365 @moonlightimagination @pietrotheavenger @marvel-fanfiction @hawkeyeharrington @dani-si @wintersoldier98 @then-there-was-me-emily @prxttybirdz @xceafh @jazzwoman897 @fandoms-who @meganwinchester1999 @ufffg @debra77 @rebelliouscat @anise-d-castle6 @projectxhappiness @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @lowkeysebby @notmyfault404 @jjamesbbarness @guera31 @sophiatomlinson23 @thisismysecrethappyplace @hiddles-rose @mywinterwolf @picapicapicassobaby @genius2050 @lokilvrr @sunshine-seven @missjayi @agniavateira @tumblenewby

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Text

strike

part 3 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 2k

warnings: extremely mild mentions of sex, unwanted advances that don’t get far (not by Frankie)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball au - trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, we learn that a ‘strike’ is when a batter misses the ball when he swings, even though he shouldn’t have. And some strikes don’t just happen during baseball.

“Jimbo, I'm here!” You called as you kicked the door closed behind you, arms heavy with grocery bags. Your grandfather would be in the living room, no doubt impatiently waiting for you to unload so you could watch the baseball game together. It was a few states away, which meant the two of you could enjoy evening on the couch with affordable snacks and air conditioning. Games in person were more exciting, but climbing all those stairs wasn’t great for his knees, and it was nice to chat with him without the roar of the crowds.

There was a faint squeak to his favorite rocker, and you unloaded half the bags onto the coffee table – his favorite treats – before tossing the rest haphazardly into their places in his little kitchen. You raced the commercials, listening to the final advertisements with one ear as you hurried to get yourself settled, even though he was always happy to chat with you during the game. For these times with him, you hated to miss even a moment. The chair to the left of his was yours, newer and softer and it would have been the perfect evening, eating and catching up with your favorite man.

Except this was the first real opportunity for him to grill you about your unexpected lunch with his heroes.

There had been laughter in his voice when you had tried to call him afterwards, and he had told you he would wait to hear the story. To him, even over the phone you couldn’t hide how flustered you were, just moments after Francesco’s eyes had been in yours. All things considered, he had been more than patient, so as you fidgeted and you kept your eyes on the screen, you told him what had happened as casually as you could.

It was the top of the first inning – the very beginning of the game, and his boys were mostly crowded into the dugout. Their fingers were grabbing fistfuls of sunflower seeds or pulling on batting gloves or hanging on the wire, watching as Will walked up to bat. There was a fun country song playing, and it was surreal, thinking it had just been a few days since he had tossed a chunk of fried food into the air and his brother had caught it in his mouth. James thoroughly enjoyed you story, laughing and for once not lecturing you about leaving them alone to live their lives. He seemed approving, proud of you for taking a change, and proud that the boys from his favorite team did his favorite granddaughter well. You answered this questions and indulged his excitement over the little things, trying not to reveal too much of your own daydream fodder. Thinking of Francisco’s eyes as he laughed at the Miller boys, you grabbed a pillow to give your hands something to hold onto, to ground yourself.

The camera panned over to Tom adjusting his cap and without thinking you winced. When you realized that James had caught the movement, you winced again.

You had to explain, then, the biggest detail that you had glossed over – the only one that would disappoint your grandfather. The outfielder had looked at you with confidence and hunger in his eyes. His fingers on your hand left cool, invisible lines, slimy like residue of the stadium cup holders.

James listened with sad eyes, before he was reaching over, gently squeezing your hand, and asking about Will’s family in town to find out if he knew a relative. It was kindness - changing the topic, rewarming the memory as he coaxed out more details of their interactions with you and each other, making you blush and laugh and smile.

The discomfort that had been lodged in your heart regarding the athlete lessened as you remembered that they were all human. It had been clear the other players respected him, maybe even looked up to him, and that had to be good for something. Even though it had just been a lunch, a single moment in time, the assessments of a group of open hearted baseball players already held weight on your opinion.

As you began to tell James about a joke Santiagio had told, you noticed that Tom’s turn had come and gone, and he had struck out.

Every professional sports group had a second team, full of people who pushed papers and cleaned locker rooms and handled press conferences. One of these people was a woman who was in charge of sorting through and organizing special fan appearances.

Flipping through applications and mail, she would have hardly noticed the broad shoulders and hazel eyes of the man who entered, had he not kissed her breathless the night before.

For all they were on and off and she knew he was a player in all senses of the word, she couldn’t help but stand, and let his hands find her hips as he pressed into her.

“Hi, Tom,” she whispered, already dazed and adoring as his beard scraped at her neck, warm and insistent.

“Hey, babe,” he returned, absentmindedly, squeezing her hips before pulling away. There was something about his eyes, the way he held his head, like his shoulders were comfortable bearing the weight of others, like he’d prefer it that way, that made him seem like a natural born leader.

She knew him better. He had the crowds and the rookies and the managers and even his brothers on the team wrapped around his fingers - the perfect mentorship allusion, but she knew. There was another side to him, a darker side, filled to the brim with pride and arrogance and power. Of all the men who flashed smiles as they shook hands and carried kids on their shoulders for photos – he was the one who preened the most. There was a hunger in his eyes, even greater than when he’d love her, when a chance came for him to do an extra interview, put some senior input in, or take a newbie to his first after party.

Still, she loved him. Too much, maybe, but her mind whispered not enough, and she hungrily took what ever he would give her. There were always flowers and jewelry and coveted high-status sex in his apologies, anyway, and she knew he’d always come back to her, eventually. She knew better than to guess.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, star stuck in spite of it all, but knowing there must be something. His “cousin” had stocks in the team, or a certain string needed to be pulled. There was always something.

When he asked for the number of a girl from a few weeks ago, there was an all-too-familiar twist in her gut.

“Tom, you know that information is confidential,” she whined, masking her fear, turning back towards her desk. It was infuriating how disarming, intoxicating, and how solid he felt behind her, how smooth his words felt on the shell of her ear.

“It’s for Benny, babe, he’s got it bad for her,” it was a lie, but she didn’t know it, and the knot in her stomach loosened a little. His hand slipped under her blouse and it came undone, submitting entirely to the façade.

“Let me help the little guy out.” For all his charisma, she wanted desperately to believe he was sincere, so she did. Her hands started steady as she opened a thick binder and began flipping through the glossy dividers. She moved as slow as she could, hopelessly savoring his touch, knowing when it was gone, the unpleasant feelings would be just as strong.

But it didn’t take long to find you number and hand it over, and exchange more heated kisses and half promises before he slipped out.

The woman settled in her chair again, fingers tracing the letters of your name, the knot reforming below her breastbone. She reached for her phone, telling herself it was a courtesy, to give you a heads up.

When a player was about to steal second base, you always wondered if Santiago Garcia could tell, without even looking. If he could feel it in his bones, or if the hairs on the back his neck rose, against his sweat.

If he could, that was exactly how you would feel now, walking into the bar to see only Tom Davis waiting for you. The building was dim, strategically chosen by Will, allegedly, so they could drink in peace. As before however, there was no hiding the silhouette of a man like him, not when he was oozing confidence like sap from a tree.

When he had called you, it had been so shocking you had agreed without thinking. It was surreal, but like following a trail of candy through a forest, not at all like the knights in shining armor of before.

He swung his arm around, cocky smile across his face, and you shook his hand.

There could not have been a more awkward boundary made, but he laughed it off as you considered turning tail and running. It was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help how guarded you felt alone with him, so you turned to the polished woof of the bar and ordered a lemonade. It would buy you time, anyway, to reassess.

You had always thought of baseball players as beer guys, but he had a short glass of something gold and expensive, as if he were trying to prove a point. Slipping onto the stool next to him, you set your bag in between you like a wall. He was broad and he pulled close, making you almost press against his side, giving you the opportunity to realize his skin almost cold. Slow sips reminded you that there was no basis for your feelings, and you were the one being strange.

It wasn’t bad, talking to him. You chided yourself internally, thinking you made unfair assumptions. Really, he was a nice guy. He talked highly of his friends, even defending their lateness, taking the blame for the mix-up. It felt like one of those interviews your grandfather would watch sometimes, the way he could go on about himself and somehow tell you nothing at all. Fighting your instincts to give short, guarded answers, you found yourself sharing about your life more than you expected. Not a lot, but not nothing either.

It was awkward and nice, not unlike a first date and when his large hand covered yours, it didn’t feel half as slimy as before.

A spider’s web was feather-light, so subtle it was almost impossible to feel until it was too late.

His eyes were sharp and deep and certain as he shifted closer, and you felt dazed, despite all the alcohol you hadn’t consumed.

When he leaned in, though, a thought struck you. With his deep hazel eyes, the perfect beard, and tanned skin, he looked like a prince. Not our prince, though, it was just someone else’s fairytale.

Clarity and your own confidence warmed you like a jacket one rainy day, and you touched Tom’s cheek, holding his face at enough of a distance. You shed the web before it stuck and something flickered in his eyes – doubt, maybe, or something like fear, as you spoke the most prominent thought on your mind.

“What about Molly?”

When he heard you, again speaking words that weren't meant for his ears, warm pride shot through his chest.

That’s my girl.

Of course you weren’t, but it felt like you were.

You turned to him like you knew he was there, hand leaving Tom’s stunned face to wave at the grinning catcher.

Frankie had been at war with himself across the bar as he looked towards the two of you, heart wrenching. He had seen from the far side the room first how close you were to the other man. It was unreasonably terrifying to see that you weren't immune, to see you consider his friend. Then he saw how non responsive you’d become to Redfly, how politely you regarded him as he lathered on the charm. By the time he reached the two of you, he found you fully awake, handling it yourself.

When the woman had called you, her voice had betrayed something. It was formal conversation, just admitting she had shared your contact information, and disclosing that it was Tom, and he’d made it clear you guys were friends. Her tone, however, told you she was territorial and jealous, but also desperate, longing. It felt right to get out of the way – that’s what you and she wanted and you sort of thought that’s actually what he wanted, too. He was moving away from you, still processing, trying to play off the moment, and even more than pity, you felt a touch sad for them.

Still, you were impressed you were able to manage yourself. It was the same confidence that had filled you when you stood up for James, a confidence that came from a feeling that whispered something good was coming, something well worth the boldness.

When you felt a warm presence at your side, you felt even more sure. It felt wonderful, the way Francisco was looking at you. It was too early to read into it, but you were sure you wanted him to look at you like that again - like you were capable of telling mountains to move.

You smiled up at him, relieved, and he couldn’t help but beam back, wanting to hug you. He wasn’t feeling quite brave enough yet, but there was a resolve settling in his heart. There was no way he was going to leave your side tonight.

The other guys came quickly. Each of them was excited to see you again, and you pretended not to notice them shooting confused glances at Redfly when he slipped outside to spit on the ground and stare at the sky.

It didn’t take long for him to rejoin you, anyway, and his shoulders seemed lighter, his eyes just a little more thoughtful.

The group as a whole accepted you into their fold like they needed you, like each one of them had missed you when you were gone, like you missed them, like you belonged there from the start.

You had no idea how long the daydream would last, but in that moment it didn’t feel like it mattered at all. Collecting stories for James even faded as a priority as you just enjoyed the feeling of the glass in your hands, the laughter in the air, and teasing the men like they were just boys. Even after the last half hour, it was easy to trust Will’s sincere tone, and Ben’s eager blue eyes. The others were grounded at your side, steady and comforting - you felt yourself open like a flower to the sun.

There was something about the shape of the catcher at your side, safe and warm, like his presence was reaching for yours, aching with yours. Through the stories and the jokes you relished it, and his eyes made it clear that you weren’t alone. And even though the universe made it abundantly clear that you had no idea what would happen next, you didn’t feel any need to hurry. Fate seemed to know what she was doing.

In the darkness of the bar, only Santiago’s eyes saw Frankie’s hand find the small of your back.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien

#francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #catfish x you #triple frontier #baseball au #triple frontier baseball au #hey batter batter #maybe i don't know people

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lily-mj-fae · 4 years

Text

Nesta and Elain

I’m going to add now: I recognize my own clear bias towards Elain. And in many ways, this post is in part to defend her, especially since now that fandom has more insight on Nesta, there’s been an increase in hate towards Elain, especially in regards to her interactions with Nesta. Some of these include expecting her to remain in a toxic situation purely because she “owes” Nesta. And so i want to discuss, why that mindset is wrong (which i’ve done a couple times in terms of morally/ethically) because they barely have a relationship anyway. Mostly, i just want to actually describe what we see of them. I’m going to try to stick to mostly just facts of what happens, with some inferences based on text on either side.

So there’s a lot of evidence to show, that while the two clearly clung to each other when their family fell, and that there’s obvious love on either side for each other, they do not have a strong relationship. Or a healthy one. Or a good one.

Not only do we have Elain mentioning that no one ever really listens to her (which is obvious it does in fact apply to her family as we see in canon a few times over, I’ll get to that). But you’d have thought that in ACOSF we’d see some kind of fond memories from Nesta about Elain. Some kind of fondness. Something that made us really believed and finally understand why she loved Elain so fiercely she would have ripped apart the world to defend her. Instead, we learn, Nesta has never told anyone she loved them until she said it to Feyre. And we do not see a single happy thought about Elain from Nesta. No happy memories. Nothing. But there was no explanation for WHY she felt so strongly for just Elain. And not a single thing to really support her feeling that way.

We’re led by Feyre to believe that Elain and Nesta are so close. And at first glance, sure, it’s easy to believe. They spend the most time together. They gossip and talk at dinner together. They have the matching iron bracelets (that I believe wasn’t a purchase made by both as Feyre seemed to think, but by Nesta, because Feyre mentions specifically how Elain had spent her money on gifts for her sisters, and I think if Elain had been involved, she would have gotten one for Feyre). Then throughout the series we see how much Nesta is willing to fight to protect Elain. How much she wants to keep Elain away from danger. We see her wanting to do things with Nesta, but not knowing how anymore because she’s becoming more distant. We see Elain even wanting to spend time with Nesta and trying to keep her included in things into ACOFAS.

To me, the illusion fades with that conversation with Lucien in the library. When Elain says that no one really heard her. And when you look at things, it becomes obvious. Most especially with Nesta. Feyre we know already knows little about her sisters. She assumed that Nesta hated her, and that her sisters would be glad to have her gone. And is surprised that Nesta would have gone after her. But with Elain we see this frequently. Elain wants to help Feyre. So she speaks up. Yes, it puts her relationship at risk. And yes, we know that Nesta takes over in an attempt to provide a buffer for Elain should Graysen find out, to maybe save her from the heartbreak of him leaving her for helping any Fae. But it doesn’t change that it was Elain’s decision. Elain’s desire to help. Nesta instead pushed her out of it wherever she could (IE taking over correspondence for them) in the name of protecting her. This is a problem. Because 1) Nesta is sacrificing her own feelings to do what Elain wants, which I think is wrong. Nesta didn’t want to help, and I think she should have stuck to that. Stuck to her own decision. 2) Nesta is preventing Elain from dealing with consequences of her actions (IE, if Graysen found out she was helping the fae). 3) This is disrespecting Elain's agency. She's not letting Elain be herself by constantly interfering 4) she then goes on to belittle Elain for those things, despite it being her decisions and actions to interfere. And we can recognize that her intentions are good all we want, it doesn't make the actions themselves good or even appropriate. Intentions only mean so much. They certainly don't excuse such detrimental behavior.

Now could Elain have fought back? The black and white answer? Yes. But it's not that simple. Elain we know has been belittled from a young age by at least her mother (okay that's an assumption on my part. But with feyre's description of their mother and Nesta's memories, i certainly wouldn't be surprised if she'd said those things to Elain's face). And essentially raised to be pleasant and agreeable. A proper lady. Her confidence in herself doesn't seem very high. Not to mention, she's much quieter than Nesta. Imagine how exhausting it would be to fight your sister on every little thing you wanted to do. And we see this in canon. Every time Elain wants to help, she has to fight Nesta. I don't think this just magically started in acomaf. I'd wager its been going since a minimum of coming to the cottage (It’s part of why I think Elain doesn’t necessarily take up chopping wood when the request is there. i think she attempted once, and Nesta stopped her and wouldn’t let her). I personally think since their mother's death. Elain is also younger than Nesta, and we do have canon evidence of her having at least one memory full of complete adoration. And a respect for the art form and her sister's views on life. So her fighting back, isn’t as easy as fandom wants to think it is.

I also want to bring up someone once mentioning in ACOTAR when Elain and Feyre were talking, and Elain mentions that she feels awful to have her friends over because Nesta makes them uncomfortable, and how that’s so disrespectful of Elain. No it’s not. Elain is allowed to have friends over. And Nesta just glared at them. I’m not saying she had to like them (because I understand why she wouldn’t), but that was rude, and she could have easily been elsewhere, and let Elain have her friends and enjoy time with them. I also read it differently, in that Elain feels awful inviting her friends over because it’s upsetting Nesta too. Which isn’t fair to her either, given that Nesta has at that point begun isolating herself (and while we as readers become aware of why later, Elain has absolutely no idea. And already has said Nesta wouldn’t talk about it. Implying she tried reaching out too), thus leaving Elain feeling very lonely. Overall, Elain here is feeling the way she should. It’s like when you have company over and your parents start yelling at you, or just being anything less than polite and you have to deal with the awkward tension.

Then comes ACOSF. And i know i wasn't the only one hoping to find out more about their relationship. And i’m not the only one who was left disappointed that we still don’t get to understand Nesta’s behavior when it comes to Elain. In fact, if I had only read ACOSF and you had told me that before that, Elain seemed to be Nesta’s favorite sister, I’d call you a liar. I do not get a single ounce that Nest has a loving feeling for Elain in ACOSF. Certainly at the very least, not enough to justify the way she treated Elain vs. Feyre in earlier books. Not to mention, Nesta is under the very immature and inaccurate idea that Elain has chosen Feyre over her. As if it’s black and white. As if Elain can only love her or Feyre. And yes, it’s a sign of her mental illness with depression and trauma. That’s fine. But it still shows a very limited viewpoint. And really only shows a care for herself, no thought of Elain or Elain’s state of mind or even really any empathy for the fact that Nesta was the one causing the rift between them and how that was truly affecting Elain. (Again more trauma response. But my point here is that there is very little empathy towards the sister that we’re told she so vehemently loves).

Now onto the part that I know is my unpopular fandom opinion: Nesta dealing with Elain’s trauma vs Elain dealing with Nesta’s...and how their traumas were very different to deal with in the first place.

My unpopular opinion is that Nesta wasn’t doing anything to actually help Elain. She was doing everything to protect her. But was not interested really in her healing. Nesta isolated Elain, who had previously been social in many ways. We don’t ever see how she fought for Elain to eat or drink or have a will to live. We only hear her say that’s what she did. But fandom does need to stop saying that Nesta was with Elain every second of every day (i have had people say this in arguments. It’s a flat out lie. There’s far more textual evidence that Nesta left Elain alone throughout her trauma than there is that she was by her side constantly. And I don’t say she was never by her side). Because the fact of the matter is that isn’t remotely true. Perhaps of the first few weeks. Before Feyre returned. But after that? We hardly see Nesta with Elain. We instead see her keeping people from interacting with her. Keeping them from giving Elain choices.

And we can shout that she was doing what she thought was best, but it doesn’t change that the effect it had was Elain being isolated and underprepared. Elain had been trying to do her part to help since ACOMAF. And she was being blocked. Elain deserved that chance to go to the high lord’s meeting and share her story (especially since Nesta didn’t want to and wasn’t going to up until the last minute). And Elain should have been offered the same training as Nesta. Especially once they learned she had powers. Instead no one offered to let her help (even though she’d been wanting to help since Feyre first came asking). No one offered to train her. Because Nesta would have had their heads. Saying that it was to keep Elain from doing something she might not have been ready for, plays into the idea that Nesta is protecting Elain from growing. Learning. Protecting her from the consequences. Nesta refused to let anyone really near her beyond the necessities.

Speaking of: Can we please talk about something no one else does? The fact that Nesta just accepts the fact that Elain is mad. That she’s broken. The effect that could have had on her, is so detrimental to Elain’s mental health. The thoughts she was probably already dealing with and then to hear that from her sister? Like she refuses to accept that there could be another answer. And while we might agree and empathize why she would say that, it doesn’t change the effect saying it would have on Elain, who was already struggling heavily to deal with everything that had been thrown at her at once. And even once Elain became Lucid, and they identified the problem, Nesta (and Feyre) continued to try to leave her behind. Again, yes, in the name of protecting Elain. But Nesta never listened to Elain. Never saw that Elain improved upon being involved. That just that action of her wanting to do something, was making her Lucid and back to herself. Instead, Nesta ignored that. Which is why I say she wasn’t focused on Elain’s healing. That and the fact that she’s making assumptions that Elain is fine now.

Elain tried to stay involved with Nesta. No, she didn’t go outside her comfort zone and go into the places Nesta was spending time. But she was trying. I admit, the shot upon Nesta’s arrival is weird. I’m torn between thinking it was a legit, to help relax, or thinking it was something she was pouring as Amren said the comment and decided to drink it instead of giving it to Nesta. (Because yes, it would be easy to say as Amren spoke, elain had been pouring, but even without that, it doesn’t mean things aren’t happening at the same time). When that didn’t work, Elain agreed intervention was necessary. and I just made a whole ass post about why that wasn’t giving up on Nesta like fandom keeps thinking.

And of course, Elain is not perfect here. She has made her mistakes. Though hers are mostly in terms of words. At least the ones I could find textual evidence for when it comes to Elain and Nesta. And mostly done in terms of emotional response.

Now. I did not intend for this post to shit on Nesta. I’m afraid it feels like it has. So I am going to tag it accordingly. But this was more to bring to light the reality that Nesta and Elain aren’t that close. They don’t have a close relationship. They were more security blankets for each other in ACOTAR, and their missing foundation began to show in ACOMAF when Nesta was unaffected by Tamlin’s Glamour and Elain was. I do think there’s a lot of love to be had between them. (Honestly hearing Elain talk about Nesta dancing, and hearing her be happy that Nesta has the Valkyries, even though she feels like she’s been losing Nesta made my heart swell for the amount of love there). But I wanted to point out that their relationship was extremely surface level and nothing deep. That it’s certainly not what fandom acts like it is as they spin this tale of complete and utter evil Elain betraying Nesta and how Nesta has done so much for Elain. Nesta had never even told Elain she loved her. Ever. Which i think is telling about where they really stand.

So let’s please stop acting like Elain owes Nesta everything under the sun because of all the things Nesta did for her. Their relationship was never deep. And while Nesta’s protectiveness stems from a place of love, is actually more detrimental to Elain and her overall growth, than it is good. And Elain has done the things she considered to be best for Nesta, and tried to show love her way. Which is equally unperfect. Because neither of them are perfect.

#elain archeron #anti Nesta Archeron #anti nesta #acosf #acotar

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bettsfic · 4 years

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Hi betts, how do you separate yourself from your fanfiction works? As in having the mindset that ‘you are not your work’? I feel like I’ve fallen into the myth that positive feedback equates to readers liking me for me, when in most cases I imagine they’re solely interested in my content. I guess I��m expecting too much from fandom members? I just don’t feel like I belong to the fandom if it weren’t for my fanfiction. Thanks for your time.

this is a really great and really big question that for me anyway had far deeper roots in my mental health than i initially recognized.

even before i found fandom, i strongly conflated love with being of use to someone, and then i would get upset that people used me. all of my relationships were either distant or volatile. i knew that i was the only thing all my relationships had in common, but i couldn’t figure out what i was doing wrong.

what i was doing wrong was that i didn’t know how to love or be loved. i only knew how to need and be needed. i was defined wholly by my relationships with others; without them, i was no one. i changed everything about myself to fit with the people i was surrounded by. i had no ability whatsoever to see or assess myself. my worth was measured in others’ perception of me. if they hated me, i hated me. if they loved me...actually, i still hated me, because i believed that love was temporary, and it was only a matter of time they saw the “real” me and they would take their love away. it was much easier to mold myself into someone they could love.

i once told a guy i was dating, i just want to be who you want me to be. and he looked at me like i was crazy, and asked, then how can i love you?

when i found writing, i didn’t know what love really felt like. i only knew obsession and codependency. i didn’t know how to feel emotions in order to process them, so everything that had ever happened to me was still just sitting inside me, waiting. writing offered me a tool to begin working through the pile. it offered me a means to observe and validate myself, and feel my feelings.

but when i was first developing a relationship with writing, i put so much of myself into it that i couldn’t help but use feedback as a measure of self-worth.

i think to some degree, every artist needs a witness. almost everything we write exists to be made public to some degree, and it’s a totally normal thing to want to seek reception. but conflating other people liking you, and by extension your work, with your worthiness to exist, creates a lot of self-suffering.

i remember realizing that i had boxed myself into a corner, and i knew i had to reassess my perspective of myself and my work. i had found myself in the same position you describe, feeling bad because readers didn’t love me, they loved my writing (see: being of use and wondering why people always used me). especially with fanfic, which has so much to do with quantity, 90% of readers don’t even look at the fic writer’s name, let alone kudos or comment. reading is a self-fulfilling endeavor the same way eating is. all of us need stories to live. as writers, we’re just the chefs. when you eat a good meal, you don’t fall in love with the chef. most of the time you don’t even know their name. the food isn’t the chef and the story isn’t you.

but also, i was, and always had been, disgusted and baffled by people who *did* love me, especially if i felt i had nothing useful to offer them. once, a friend of mine drove like 3 hours to come visit me for dinner, and then drove 3 hours back. for some reason i assumed he was on a road trip somewhere and just passing through. when he told me he had come just to hang out with me, my brain short-circuited. i couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to hang out with me like, for fun.

after a few years of posting fic, a weird thing happened where a few people did seem to like *me* because of my writing, insofar as they would follow my blog and interact with me and eventually we became friends. there may even be people out there who like me and don’t interact with me. but that idea also kind of weirded me out for a long time, because i kept thinking, who am i? no one. i’m nothing. i’m boring. go read my writing, that’s what matters.

and then i realized, i could not have it both ways. either i wanted to be seen, or i wanted to go unseen. i was schrödinger’s validation.

so i think the very simple answer is “learn to love yourself,” but i was so far behind when it came to love, i didn’t know what loving yourself even meant. so i think a better adage is “learn love.” learn what love is, what it feels like, what it looks like. and then turn that definition on yourself and your work.

i love myself, even when i mess up, even when i’m not meeting my expectations. i love my work, even when it’s bad. when other people love me and my work, that makes me happy. when they don’t, that’s fine, because i still have plenty of my own love left.

in practicality, for a few years i basically had to constantly chant to myself “what other people think of me is not my business.” a reader’s relationship with your writing is not your obligation to know or control. it’s only your obligation to create the stories you want to tell, and maybe you share them so you can share the love you put into them, or maybe you don’t. maybe you eat the meal you cook, or maybe you share it with someone else. whether they like it or not has no bearing on who you are. it’s all just personal taste.

more importantly, you can’t generate self-beliefs externally. someone’s opinion of you or your work cannot define you, because no one has a wider view of you than you. you are the expert of yourself. it took me a long time to change all of my self-beliefs, or what i’ve come to call “life sentences,” into statements of temporality and priority. “i’m brave” turned into “i value courage.” “i’m bad at directions” turned into “sometimes i get turned around.” every time i’m about to make a sweeping judgment of myself, i try to recast it into something more malleable, because every state of the self is temporary, and i always want to give myself the opportunity to grow.

i won’t lie and say i have a totally healthy relationship with my writing. i still get jealous sometimes, although it’s much briefer and more bearable than it used to be. i still get deeply annoyed by tactless or rude feedback, but i rarely get upset. i *do* get upset when someone sends me a link to a forum or thread of people making fun of me; i think it’s hard to unlearn that. sometimes i still feel the need to defend or justify or apologize for my work. and i definitely still compulsively refresh my comment inbox whenever i post something i’m proud of. but for the most part, i’m in a much better place than i used to be.

currently i’m working on making peace with the idea of publication, that my original work treads a morally risky line that is easily misunderstood, and i’m publishing into a world of mob mentality and cancel culture. and moreover, once a work is published, once it’s out there, it can never go back in. i’m trying to figure out whether i’m confident enough now in my work to still stand by it in ten years or fifty. i’m also freaked out about how anything i publish will outlive me. as someone who has always lived with existential dread, it’s terrifying to think i may write something that could be read in a hundred years, that my voice might live longer than my body. there is a very slim chance of it, but as i’ve mentioned before, i think it’s better to plan more for success than failure.

i’m not sure if any of this is helpful, but it’s the path i took to get where i am. i wish you the best of luck navigating your relationship with your work.

my carrd | writing advice masterdoc

#writing advice #Anonymous

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