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pennyblossom-meta · 1 year ago

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@messiahzzz I was the one sending this ask, but for some reason I can only link them to my main account instead of this one (which is mainly for fanfiction and meta). Thank you for replying, your musings are always super insightful.

So, this might just be my own perception, but I see this narrative choice as not too dissimilar as to what Peter Jackson's LotR movies did to Gimli or even dwarves in general, since in the Hobbit they became caricatures of their book counterparts (which were already fairly caricaturesque). Another example would be how Bioware treated Tom Raninier aka Blackwall.

In Gimli's case, if one reads the book series, they might find that he shares little commonality with what we see in the movies, as those moments of humour do not define Gimli as a comic relief character. Far from it, in fact. However, his character did continue to embolden a stereotype about dwarves that we see reproduced in different types of media even today.

As for Blackwall, despite his many flaws and complications, despite personal opinions about whether he should be redeemed or not, when he's the Inquisitor's romance partner there's constant ridicule because he also falls under the stereotype of the uncouth commoner and soldier who "got lucky" and is perhaps undeserving. He's the least desirable of all love interests (aside from Cole). It's very sad and actually pulls at your heartstrings because you can see that character is trying so hard to be better. The upside in DA:I is that Bioware fleshed out the companions much more beyond their interactions with the MC or main events, so you get a sense of a tentative, sometimes fluctuating camaraderie where it counts, and of forgiveness.

In BG3 we're missing camp events between the companions and it affects the MC's awareness of their storyline, as they mostly only open up that we can see when undergoing the romance path. I suppose that blew me away a bit because having high approval with the companions should not block us anymore from having deeper conversations. I'd like to speak to Wyll often about Baldur's Gate and politics, engage in silly antics with Karlach, argue with Laz'el about perceived culture clashes, etc. Astarion, Gale and Shadowheart are the three companions that Larian fleshed out the most beyond their main questlines, closely followed by Laz'el. I assume this is due to the game still being too unpolished at launch, like Cyberpunk.

Going back to Gale: I see Gale being defined as "pathetic" as Larian falling into the stereotype hole of comic relief because a) Gale is a wizard (which comes with its own negative connotations of an over studious, squishy and flowery character that is ultimately selfish and power hungry) and b) Tim is a great comedian, so his deliveries bring a different taste to Gale. I suspect it's also a specific type of prejudice towards people who are more academically inclined or who manifest eccentricity or effusive passion for the hobbies they love – in particular, should these hobbies fall out of the norm or be seen as eccentric. In fact, I can think of many people making negative jokes about certain hobbies or personalities types just for stepping outside of societal standards.

I also see the mockery towards Gale as a bit of situational irony and an attempt at self deprecation that's gone a bit awry for some of us; given his inclinations, I'd wager most game developers and Co. would identify the most with Gale rather than, say, Shadowheart or Karlach. One of the reasons Gale is so relatable is because he displays a side of ourselves that many tone down due to social pressure. And he's shot down for it or openly mocked. The good natured way that Tim plays this is a testament to his professionalism and creativity, no doubt.

As mentioned in my previous point, we don't have a good understanding of the relationships between our companions, only fleeting banter or unique in-context dialogue here and there. It's not enough, and we only get a superficial glimpse of how they view each other, which has at times has caught me by surprise because the character development either wasn't enough to feel as natural as I needed it to be, or it just genuinely surprised me (in a very good way!) for how unexpected it was.

#2) some of the comments are so wildly out of character for the characters who are saying them #wyll suddenly in act iii saying gale is now bearable that he's in a relationship? #halsin telling gale that it's good he's not himself? #the player character in a gale romance acting ashamed and embarrassed by their romantic partner?

In answer to @galedekarios

Yes, I think that's exactly what the dialogue is telling us; that Gale's personality is (more) flawed until he enters a romantic partnership with Tav/Durge. And that Gale, by virtue of being himself, is part of the problem – to which I would further analyse that it's also a hint towards his hubris and downfall as Mystra's Chosen. The problem is that it doesn't address what causes such a personality to develop, it just kicks Gale further down and makes him comedy relief.

I'll reiterate that I don't like how there's no option to intervene and shoot down whenever other characters are being unkind to Gale. Yes, he's an adult, a very sharp individual and capable of defending himself. But it's always good to have some backup when we're at our worst or challenge other people's perceptions, isn't it?

When I came across that "joke" from Tav to Quill and Z'rell's comment (plus Halsin), I had to take a minute to process what happened. Gale might be a bit silly and eccentric but he's the kindest, sweetest and most passionate character in that party. No wonder the poor man has deep insecurities to solve, so many people reduce him to an easy target! Ofc one of the side effects would be overconfidence and ambition as a defense mechanism. He's obv lonely; only Tara and Morena ever loved him for him.

his eccentric nature might be a part of it. he is loquacious, outgoing, and doesn’t see the point in hiding his enthusiasm. he is considered to be the weird one. naturally, wizards in general being seen as somewhat squishy and physically weak might also add to it.

personally, i really don’t like the implications of the (widely considered) autistic-coded character being the one who faces the most ridicule by far by other characters and fans (and larian) alike.

some might disagree with me on that, but i don’t find it funny by any means either. mostly it just makes me feel bad. “he deserves it. cocky, arrogant, hubris-ridden wizard needs to be taken down a peg” like he isn’t… y’know… already at his lowest. it also disregards the fact that much of his bravado is part of his carefully curated Great Wizard of Waterdeep™ persona that he has skillfully adopted to mask his general feeling of being defective. being fiercely proud of your skill and knowledge and being doubtful of having something truly worthwhile to offer are mindsets that can coexist. according to fandom, gale is either secret hubris incarnate that is only waiting to be unleashed upon the world or pure baby that can do no wrong. instead of a character that is just as flawed and traumatized as all the others, but no less deserving of genuine love.

to me, the constant ridicule just reads as further feeding into his deep-rooted insecurities and his belief that he (as gale, the person) isn’t someone who holds inherent worth. it really, really doesn’t sit well with me.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #ask #reply #bg3 meta

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barbwritesstuff · 3 years ago

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THat was AWESOME! Heartpounding! Like seriously, I got the chills and then the "oh noes" and then I laughed bc Gaius actually took us literally and watched the show and wrote a letter in LIPSTICK. And while the whole neighbourhood massacre made my stomach drop, that's what it is SUPPOSED to feel like. Holy shit, I mean you kept dropping the hints that those poor people wouldn't decompose and were mostly thralls and just sacrificial pawns, but it's not like you can take it easy on them, when they outnumber you AND go for the kill. Also, yes dammit, I called it, Minjo of course was a total badass and had her baby in the middle of all this, by herself and kept it safe. Holy shit, this woman! Alex never stood a chance, who wouldn't fall in love!? And as for Mom powers, I'm glad I didn't bother helping Marta. After realizing that she's Terry's mom I was fairly sure that she would neither need nor accept any help, so I went for Farro like my heart told me to (and I promised his alpha). Only one of those two choices still has a living kid to protect and the repercussions with Roe's pack would hurt, so yeah, heavy hearted bc it feels like being a bad alpha, but it's actually the political choice (and the private one coincidentally). Terry and Elma made me sad, but it would have been a little unrealistic to suffer no casualties whatsoever, I guess. Besides throughout the series Terry was always a little reckless when he came up. Poor kid! As for Elma, well, my wolf will make that up to Izzy and remember to protect the kids, like Elma wanted me to. *sniffle* Having her be the first to run up to us and hug made my heart melt and all my protecc instincts were instantly on the baby, but also, future alpha right there, leaving the pantry, scouting and finding the alpha all by herself. I'm so proud! Seeing my gang (team stray for the win!) all in one piece (though a lasting scar on a werewolf after a full moon? holy shit Ed, how close did you get to having your face clawed off? on that note super glad we dragged Lee into it!) made it feel worth it and the confused howls that answered back were frankly adorable. Especially Sergi. Marco was adorable and super supportive best friend the whole fight and aftermath and I'm gonna romance the heck out of him in my next playthrough!

I'm still wondering what happened with Roe, did Blackwell send someone after them already? Were they attacked? Did they just feel too undecided to answer the phone? Or was it just that they were au naturel romping naked in the forest? I'm really glad Lee keeps in contact and a little sad that Ruby apparently breaks contact after that last phonecall? Also a little concerned bc I still don't know which spells involve werewolf bones.

The credo from the beginning being tied into the ending wraps this story up really nice, but having Farro and Hani move in and giving my Noelle their very own family almost made me cry in joy! Jay stayed, too and I kinda feel sorry for poaching Roe's coolest wolf (Hani, obviously), but since he wants good relations - one of his marrying the alpha, with Hani's aunt still in his pack, isn't the worst choice. Also, everyone needs a giant tall dark and handsome to cuddle in their bed and a math hating step daughter, with endless energy. Izzy needs a friend that can keep up with her. THANK YOU FOR WRITING THIS and giving me all these feelings and making me fall in love with those super sexy lovable (asshole) characters!! ♥♥♥ (only now I'm slightly late for work, sliding hours or no. oops.)

Thank you so much for this message! I've been hoarding it for a wee bit and reading it again whenever I needed a pick me up. 💙

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ifmywishescametrue · 3 years ago

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"You didn't deserve that... You deserve so much better." for buckytony pls 🤓

thank you for sending one! it got kind of out of hand lol so here's 2.2k of breaking up and making up. hope you like it!

Tony loses track of what the fight is about fairly quickly. He knows it started with what seemed like playful bickering, the kind their relationship was practically built on, but somewhere along the way the jabs turned much more pointed. Barbed wire wrapped around them, until each one was like a knife wound.

The first real cut came from him, he knows. Bucky's witty comment hit a little too close to one of his hundred insecurities, and reflex made him return it with too much sharpness. He can't blame Bucky for reacting, but they're both to blame for letting it get this out of hand. That’s not something that matters in the moment, though.

In the moment, all that matters is the careless insults and merciless words they lob back and forth. They chip away at each other and their relationship until it’s crumbling around them, but even that doesn’t matter. It becomes secondary to getting in the last word and one-upmanship, like it’s a competition for who can hurt who the most that they both desperately want to win, consequences be damned.

“You know this is why people keep leaving you,” Bucky says. “At some point it should be pretty damn obvious that it's you, not them.”

Tony laughs bitterly because the only other choice is crying. “Cause you're a real fucking prize, right? Bet people are just lining up to date a guy they're barely allowed to touch. And God forbid you ever try to do something nice for him, because it'll never actually be right.”

“Better than a guy with daddy issues so severe it'll take him two years to even tell you he loves you. Don't bother saying it in the meantime to him either, because he'll run off to hide for a week after each time.”

“Well, you know what, I'll make it easy for you, then,” Tony says, backing away to grab his jacket. “You don't have to worry about me and all my issues anymore.”

He forcefully shoves his arms into the sleeves and grabs his keys from the hook by the door. Bucky watches with a clenched jaw and doesn't try to stop him, not even when he pauses to give him the chance.

“What are you waiting for? Go ahead and run off. Prove my point.”

Tony shakes his head, an ache already forming in his chest that he ignores. “I’m not proving your point, because this isn’t running. This is breaking up with you because you’re a fucking asshole.”

He lets the door slam shut behind him and speedwalks down the hall, repeatedly pushing the elevator button. It doesn’t come quickly enough, and he flings open the door to the stairwell to rush down them. His vision blurs dangerously, and he can hardly see where he’s going, but he doesn’t slow down. The tears come freely with no around to see, until he’s out on the sidewalk and violently swipes them away with the back of his hand. He doesn’t pay attention to where he’s walking, only on getting as far away as possible.

Where he ends up shouldn’t come as a surprise to him. It’s muscle memory to come here at this point, a walk so familiar he could do it in his sleep and still manage to avoid all the cracks and uneven parts on the sidewalk on the way.

He stands outside of Shield’s Bar, neon lights coloring his face blue and pink, and he contemplates going in. It’s a Thursday, which means Clint is working the bar until midnight. Natasha will be waiting tables, and Steve will come in to replace her at ten.

All Bucky’s friends. He won’t get any of them in the breakup.

Steve will be the first to turn his back on him with his unwavering loyalty to his best friend. Clint will follow next because he hates tension and it’s the easier side to take. Natasha will be last, and she’ll claim that she loves them both and choosing sides is childish and ridiculous. But she’ll go, too, eventually. When none of her other friends will be in the same room as him, and all of their usual hangout spots become off limits. It’ll grow awkward and uncomfortable until promises to meet up turn into vague excuses and texts spaced months apart.

But where does he have to go if it isn’t here?

Rhodey’s on base in California, and Pepper moved back to New York the second her business degree was done. Staying in Boston was never the plan, not until Bucky and his found family welcomed him into their lives and made it feel like home. Where is there to go if home isn’t an option anymore?

He stands there long enough that people start to whisper as they pass by. They must think he’s lost his mind, staring blankly at a brick wall and hardly blinking, but he doesn’t hear what they say. Doesn’t hear anything but his own thoughts running in circles, going from anger to regret to shame and back again.

He wonders if Bucky’s right. If he truly is the reason it never works out. He knows he’s too insecure and emotionally unavailable. He demands too much and gives too little in return and doesn’t know how to communicate.

He used to watch his parents fight, orbiting around each other with avoidance and unspoken words until the dams broke and silence turned to screams, and he would swear that he would be better. If he was lucky enough to be in love with someone and have them love him in return, he would understand just how rare and beautiful that is and never take it for granted.

Easier said than done. Harder to face the fact that sometimes his words sound exactly like his father’s once did and sometimes he feels like his mother when he quietly lets himself be walked on and overlooked. The worst of both of them is tangled up inside of him, and it always kills whatever he touches.

Natasha finds him there eventually. She opens the door roughly, with intention that falters momentarily before she asks, “Do you plan on coming in at some point or are you staying out here all night?”

“I should probably go,” he says, quietly enough that it’s nearly lost to the wind.

Natasha watches him for a long moment, then steps out of the doorway to take his hand. She leads him over to an empty booth and slides into the opposite side.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

She shrugs, “Steve will be here in a few minutes. No one’s going to die if they have to wait for their beer.”

Silence stretches on, and he stares down at his hands on the table. It’s warmer inside the bar, and he doesn’t realize that the cold has turned his fingers numb until they begin to unthaw.

“People coming in here were talking about some guy loitering outside. Some were saying he looked sad, some said lost. A few less optimistic people voted for strung out on drugs, but I think it’s safe to rule that one out now. Same with lost, seeing as you’ve been here a thousand times. That leaves sad, which means you had a fight with Bucky, and you didn’t come in, which means you think it’s your fault. Am I right so far?”

Tony nods, hanging his head low, and she continues to ask, “Do you want to talk about it or drink about it?”

“We broke up,” Tony mumbles. “I did it.”

She takes a long breath, and her hand is warm when it slips back into his. “Are you planning on fixing it?”

“Not sure it’s fixable. I said some things, he said some things. Can’t really take any of it back now.”

“People say things they don’t mean all the time. Doesn’t make it unforgivable.”

He shrugs like his heart isn’t broken. “Maybe it’s better off this way.”

Natasha sighs, “Tony.”

“What?”

“Go home.”

“Pretty sure I don’t have one of those anymore.”

“Of course you do,” she says softly. “I promise you that he wants you to come back.”

Tony shakes his head. “You weren’t there, Nat. You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened to know that he wants you to come home. If he feels even half as terrible as you look, he wants you. Just because you broke up doesn’t mean it’s over. It’s only over if you don’t go back.”

Tony bites his lip to keep it from quivering, and he asks, “What if you’re wrong? What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

“Well, it can’t exactly make things worse, can it?”

He huffs a humorless laugh, “I guess not.”

Natasha slides out of the booth, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Go home before he comes out looking for you, and text me in the morning to tell me I was right.”

She walks away, greeting Steve as he comes in, and Tony lingers there for another minute before getting up. He waves to them both on his way out and tries not to think about what she’ll tell Steve about his reason for being there.

The walk back to his and Bucky’s apartment seems quicker than the walk away from it, and Tony resents it for not giving him more time.

He takes the stairs again and hesitates outside the door, what ifs overwhelming his mind. What if he walks in and all of his things are packed up for him? What if Bucky isn’t even there or all of his belongings are gone instead? What if he can’t fix it and this is where it really ends? He doesn’t know if he could recover from that.

Turning the key in the lock, he opens the door slowly and holds his breath in trepidation.

Nothing looks different. No packed boxes, no smashed picture frames, no sign that anything ever went wrong.

Bucky is on the couch, curled into the corner with his legs held tight to his chest, and he doesn’t seem to notice that he isn’t alone anymore. It’s painfully quiet, and the single light that was on before isn’t enough now that it's grown darker outside, but he hasn’t turned any others on.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says into the silence. It’s as good a place as any to start. “You didn't deserve that. Any of it. The whole stupid thing. You deserve so much better. I should be better at this, but I’ve done a real shit job of it lately, I think. Maybe not even lately. Maybe I’ve been a terrible boyfriend the whole time, and in that case you should probably tell me to go and not come back, but I’d like to think there were at least moments where I was sort of okay, and I’d like to try to be more than just okay if you’ll let me.”

Bucky stares at him, lips parted and red-rimmed eyes unblinking. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Tony freezes, unsure of how to answer that, and Bucky unfolds himself to walk over and stand in front of him.

“You broke up with me,” Bucky says.

“Yes, but I -”

“No,” he interrupts. “You broke up with me.”

Tony frowns in confusion and slowly says again, “Yes.”

“That means I do the grovelling here, because I fucked it up. I beg for the second chance, because I crossed the line so far that you left. And I did it on purpose, too, because I had a shit day so I pushed until you pushed back,” Bucky explains. “And apparently I did such a good job being horrible to you that you think it’s your fault.”

Tony tries to process that, but it’s taking some time to work through. A complete turn around on his thoughts that almost makes him dizzy.

“Why did you have a shit day? What happened?”

“Is that really what you’re focusing on in all of that?” Bucky shakes his head in disbelief and runs a hand through his hair. “God, it’s you that deserves better. That’s what I’m telling you here. You were right to leave, and I should be the one telling you I’m sorry.”

“You had a bad day and took it out on me. How many times have I done the same to you? You never once left.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“No,” Tony agrees. He reaches for one of Bucky’s hands, because he needs the contact and has a feeling that Bucky does too. “But it doesn’t mean it’s not worth working on. I meant what I said about wanting to be better for you.”

Bucky nods, looking down at their joined hands. “I want to be better for you, too. How do we do that?”

“A lot of talking about our feelings, probably.”

Bucky pulls a face. “God, that sounds terrible.”

Tony laughs, taking his other hand to pull him in closer, “Yeah, it does, but we’ll get better at it eventually.”

“Can we start tomorrow?” Bucky asks. He leans down to rest his forehead against Tony’s. “I’d really like to just hold you tonight.”

“Yeah, baby,” Tony murmurs. “Hold me tonight. It’ll be better in the morning.”

#buckytony #winteriron #my fic #my writing #prompts #prompt fill #warmachinesocks

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t-lostinworlds · 4 years ago

Text

My Best Girl (Tom Holland)

a/n: this was supposed to be short and sweet yet here we are asdfghjkl i mean it’s still short but 2k isn’t necessarily a blurb ahah. this was written fairly quick but i hope you guys still enjoy it!

pairing: tom holland x female!reader trope/genre: slight angst & fluff summary: You hear people gossip in the bathroom about how Tom looks so good and how you basically don’t reach his level. warnings: not proofread, tom being a wholesome boyfriend, slightly steamy ending word count: 2.3k+ requested:

prompts: ~ “Talk to me.” ~ “You deserve so much better.”

masterlist in bio & pinned post

-:-:-:-:-

Galas or fancy parties have never been your thing, especially when they're littered with too many celebrities. Some of them are nice of course, sweet and kind, but some are a bit much, stuck in their own little bubble of fame. It was just the constant thing of one upping each other, who has the most expensive dress, which island did they visit just recently, whose yacht were they invited to, and so on.

It was not your crowd, at all. Yet here you were in a floor-length, black sleeveless dress, a V-neckline to match the low back and a high slit to show off your leg and your silver heels. The fabric was hugging you in all the right places while a strong arm was wrapped around your waist, warm fingers sometimes grazing the skin on the small of your back as you smile at this well-known producer who your boyfriend just introduced you to.

Your boyfriend who happens to be world renowned actor, Tom Holland.

"I need to use the bathroom," you whispered into Tom's ear, the lad cutting his conversation off briefly to meet your gaze, a charming smile on his lips and a loving glow in his eyes.

"Okay. I'll be right here," he hummed, giving your cheek a sweet kiss and your waist a gentle squeeze before he lets you go.

After asking around the staff for a minute you've finally reached the bathroom. You pushed the door open to find it completely empty which was a relief. You just didn't want to deal with any more gossiping or encounter any more "high class" people. You went inside one of the stalls and locked the door shut. Although, you didn't get a chance to even do your business when you heard three pairs of heels click against the tiled floor. You wouldn't have entertained it until they started to exchange words about a certain man.

"Have you seen how good Tom Holland looked?" one of them said, a sense of pride coursing through you because your man does look so good tonight, that until the same girl spoke again. "Do you think I could snatch him up for tonight?"

"Well he's got his girlfriend attached to his hip so your chances are close to none," a second voice spoke.

"That was his girlfriend?" the first one gasped exaggeratedly.

"No way, I thought it was his PA," a third girl said with a laugh.

"What a shame, he deserves someone who can actually match him," the first girl sighed.

"Someone who at least could afford a proper designer dress," the third one said.

All three of them laughed at that.

"I bet I could still get his number despite the girlfriend. I could just get him alone," the first one hummed, giggling to herself as if it was the best things she's said in her life.

Finally having enough, you fixed up your dress, took a deep breath to calm yourself before opening the stall door and walking out with your chin up. All three sets of eyes followed you as they immediately quieted down. Only brave behind the back, always cowards face to face.

You shot them each a wide smile through the mirror as you turned the faucet on to wash your hands. The three of them tried to return it but their lips only twitched as they stared at you in shock.

"With all the classy make-up and elegant dresses you'd think it would at least taint your personalities no? Be ladies with a bit of class and elegance but huh," you paused, rinsing off the soap and then turning the water off before grabbing some paper towels to dry of your hands. "What a shame," you tutted with a shake of your head, shooting them a sympathetic smile through the mirror. None of them spoke a single word as you threw away the paper towel and started towards the door with your head held high.

Before you grabbed the door handle, you turned back to them with a tight lip smile. "Oh, and this dress is worth more than all of you combined with how cheap your personalities are." You pulled the door open, though stopped midway through the doorway to look at them over your shoulder. "Words of advice, try and go for the single men, ladies, and maybe you'll get lucky. Although not guaranteed if you're a bit...desperate. Have a great night. I know I will, especially later with my man," you said with a smirk, throwing them a wink at the end of your sentence to properly get the point across.

But the moment you stepped out of the bathroom you felt your knees weaken, breathing turning heavy, tears burning in your orbs as you tried your best to keep them at bay until you were out from prying eyes. The words they've said have always been sitting in the back of your head, how Tom could leave you so quickly for someone who was up to his level. Someone more gorgeous, someone with a high status, someone who could actually match him in terms of looks and just overall fame. And hearing those words be said out loud, to hear them from actual strangers, it only makes them more real, the insecurities that's always been nagging in your brain. It only makes them more painful.

You rushed back out into the ballroom, holding your composure as best as you could. Tom was still in his place as promised, talking to the same person he did just minutes ago before you went and excused yourself.

"Tom," you croaked out when you got to him, not meaning your voice to sound weak the way it did. But it was already too late for you to try again when your boyfriend's eyes immediately snapped to look at you. Tom knows you like the back of his hand, one change in the tone of your voice and he immediately will notice that something was up.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked as he turned to face you fully, his hand coming up to cup your cheek so you had no choice but to look at him in the eyes. Tom's worry only grew some more when he saw your orbs glossed up with tears, features coated by nothing but utter panic.

"I'm going to go ahead and get back to the hotel room," you whispered. "You can stay—"

"No, if you want to go, then we're going now," he said firmly.

"But—"

Tom didn't give you any time to finish your sentence when he turned back to the producer he was talking to. "I'm so sorry but we need to get going. It was nice meeting you sir. I'll have my agent send you the details. Thank you so much," Tom said, offering his hand out to which the man shook with a smile, not at all minding that their conversation got cut short.

And with that, Tom took your hand in his and swiftly but gently guided you out of the ballroom.

"You didn't have to leave with me," you muttered as you both made your way back to the elevators, thankful that your hotel room was in the same building.

"No, but I wanted to. The night was getting long anyway," Tom reassured with a squeeze of your hand.

You stayed silent on the way up and even after you're inside the room. Tom's frown could only deepen when you sat at the edge of the bed with a shaky breath.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" he asked as he locked the door. You ignored him completely, hands gripping tightly at the fabric of your dress, keeping your head down as you tried to keep your breathing steady and your raging thoughts at bay, but much to no use.

"Talk to me," Tom said softly, frown deep on his lips as he slowly moved over to your shaking form. He crouched down in front of you, hands landing on your knees as he searched for your eyes but all you did was hide your face behind your palms. "Darling," he tried again, but still, you didn't even bother looking up.

Tom took it upon himself to pry your hands gently away from your face and letting his fingers intertwine with yours. His heart broke when you looked at him with nothing but utmost sadness and hurt, tears running freely down your cheeks as you whispered,

"You deserve so much better."

"Okay, who the fuck told you that," Tom growled, but you only frowned deeply at his reaction because you knew, with one look in his eyes that his anger wasn't directed at you. It was at whoever planted that thought inside your head.

"No one—"

"Y/N," Tom warned.

"Nobody told me it directly. I just heard some girls in the bathroom saying how much you're way out of my league and how I looked like some assistant when I'm beside you and they are right Tom. I can't wear any designer clothes or any expensive dresses to look at least presentable when I'm with you. I can't match how handsome you are because I look nothing like those models or those actresses—"

"Darling, have you even seen yourself tonight?" Tom cut you off, shaking his head in disbelief as he furrowed his brows. "Have you seen how many guys I've been trying to wave off of you? Have you ever wondered why I've never let you go even in the slightest? Why I kept an arm around you or a hand on your back at all times?"

You shook your head no with a frown, not really getting where he was going with this.

"Babe, you stole the whole room! They were so drawn to you all the damn time like fucking moths to a flame and I was getting so fucking annoyed at them for always staring at you like that," Tom said through gritted teeth, closing his eyes for a moment to take a deep breath and calm himself before his gaze landed back on you. He flashed you a bright, genuine smile as he gave your hand a squeeze. "But I also felt so proud because fuck yeah, look at how fucking gorgeous my girlfriend is. Look at how lucky I am to have her with me and guess what? Get wrecked 'cause all you lot can do is stare at her while I get to hold her in my arms and call her mine."

You didn't have a chance to response when Tom suddenly stood up to his full height, pulling you with him and away from the bed as he walked backwards. You followed him with brows furrowed in confusion, but he only flashed you a charming grin.

"To be honest you're the one who's way out of my league, I mean look at you," Tom paused just as he stopped moving, stepping to the side until you were face to face with yourself in the floor length mirror. "Look how fucking beautiful you are! Those girls are just jealous because my god love, you make my fucking heart explode!" he exclaimed, gesturing towards your reflection in the mirror. You tilted your head at him with a pout, fresh sets of tears coating your eyes but for a different reason this time. Tom sighed as he moved back to stand in front of you, one hand landing on your hips as the other went on your cheek.

"I don't deserve someone better you know why?" he hummed, brown eyes boring into your own. "Because you are already the best girl I could ever have in my life." Tom pressed his forehead against yours, giving your hip a loving squeeze before he lifted his hand up so he could cup your face lovingly with both hands. "You are my best, most gorgeous and amazing girl with a heart of gold to match. I couldn't possibly find someone better than you my love and fuck whoever thinks otherwise," he finished, nothing but utmost sincerity coating his voice and swimming in his eyes, words doing nothing but make you heart grow ten times its size.

Your bottom lip trembled as you stared at him all teary eyed, leaning even closer until you were able to capture his lips in yours, to let him feel through the kiss just how grateful you are of him. Tom hummed at the feeling, his hands sliding down your bare arms until he rested them on the small of your back, welcoming your kisses as he pulled you even closer to him.

"I love you," you whispered against his lips, fingers getting lost in his styled hair, tugging at them playfully making him let out a soft groan.

"And I love you so much, darling," he muttered, giving your bottom lip a soft nibble before he suddenly pulled away. One you met his eyes again, that's when you saw how they were already a shade darker than before.

Tom shot you a wide smirk before he pulled away completely, walking around you until he stood right behind, one hand taking home on your waist as the other went to hold your chin gently, turning your head to look back in front so you were once again face to face with yourself, right in the mirror.

He met your eyes through the floor-length mirror, his grin wide and mischievous as he ran his fingers down your spine, goosebumps erupting on your skin. You suck in a breath as he took hold of the zip on your dress right as he sucked on that sweet spot on your neck he's already memorized. He pulled the zip down gently, the fabric going lose around your body as you kept eye contact with him through the mirror. Tom hooked his fingers on the straps of your dress, slowly pulling them off your shoulders and down your arms until it pooled at your feet, exposing you to the cold air of the room. With his voice deep and husky, Tom growled lowly against your ear,

"Now, enough talk and let me show you just how beautiful you are."

~~~

>> come say hi and send some in!

-:-:-:-:-

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#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland reader insert #tom holland x reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland writing #tom holland request #tom holland oneshot #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland x female reader #tom holland x you

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silenceinternalmonologue · 3 years ago

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A Review of Loki (2021)

[The following is an exact transcription of Twitter user @/diolesbian ‘s thread linked here . They gave me permission to cross-post their thread on my Tumblr. Keep in mind that this review is fairly long and quite critical of the series. I agree with this review wholeheartedly, and would be welcome to discuss it with anyone else.]

Loki is a character who has died many times, but his own series may be his most brutal character assassination yet.

1. Loki’s role in the series. Instead of tackling Loki's most villainous state of mind in Avengers 1, the series literally speedran through his development in the subsequent films, after which they almost entirely halted his character progression.

Because this series was set right after Avengers 1 it had the responsibility of developing Loki further in place of The Dark World and Ragnarok. In Episode 1, this development was kicked off by having Loki watch a reel of some of his defining moments in the MCU, allowing him to see his future all the way up to his death in Infinity War. Sadly, this scene ended up being the most development he received in the entire series. And arguably, this isn’t even true development but more like a speedrun of his character up until that point, serving as a simple tactic to explain why he wouldn’t be acting all dictatorial and murderous during his own series. As soon as he had been made “good” (read: docile) enough to follow along with the plot, his agency was completely thrown out. From that point on, the series wasn’t about Loki making things happen but about things happening to Loki.

Loki was supposed to be the main character, but he wasn't the protagonist in this story. In fact, he was more of a side character than we’ve ever seen him be in the MCU before, perhaps excepting IW and Endgame.

A protagonist is by definition someone whose important decisions affect the plot, whose development is followed most closely by the audience, and who is opposed by an antagonist. Loki exhibited none of these traits in this series. Especially the latter half of the story, he was reduced to simply reacting to the revelations around him, such as the reveal that the TVA members were all variants and that Kang was the true mastermind behind everything. He never truly involved himself or acted based on any of these plot points, and hardly played a key role in what was supposed to be his own story. Even in the films, where Loki is a side character, he makes choices which impact the plot to a larger extent. He almost seems more like a background character in the role of protagonist than in the parts he plays in the films.

2. The antagonist. The TVA could have worked as the perfect setting for Loki to have a new arc. It’s a thematic antithesis to who we know Loki to be. But when this Loki turns out to not be who the audience thought he was the TVA’s thematic significance falls apart as well.

In Episode 1, the TVA’s Agent Mobius enlists the help of Loki the Variant to pin down a greater foe who we are told is another, more malicious version of Loki. Order and chaos meeting in the middle, teaming up to take down an enemy, who even happens to be the protagonists’ literal evil self: that works, it sounds promising. But this dynamic is soon undermined when Loki leaves with Sylvie. Still, the benefit of the doubt is easy to grant here: a story about tricksters is bound to contain twists. But by Episode 3 the series is halfway done and the TVA has been appointed as the main antagonist again: we’ve now established villains three different times. And then the Cloud Monster At The End Of Time is introduced, and finally Kang. In other words, the Loki series has no consistent antagonist, no one to pit its main character against. And this is where we once again miss out on an enormous aspect of Loki’s potential characterization.

Protagonists are always defined by an antagonist, whether a purple Titan, a flat tire, or themself. Loki is not given anything to define his morals, motivations, or development in opposition to and this is a huge oversight. Especially given the fact that Loki has taken on the villain’s role in the past: how is the audience supposed to know that the “bad guy” is now a “good guy” if there’s no “even worse guy” to stand up against?

3. The plot. A plot should show off its MC’s strengths and match their personality. The Loki plot hardly relied on his presence at all, he didn't play a key role. The story had so little to do with Loki that it seemed as though he has barely any impact on “his” narrative.

One of the most central conflicts in the Loki series doesn’t involve him at all: it’s between Sylvie and the TVA. This plotline was a good concept overall, but its main problem is that it’s practically the only conflict in the series. Loki himself, as mentioned before, isn’t set in opposition to anything or anyone. And thanks to his relationships with Sylvie and Mobius being weakened by conflicting storytelling devices, he appears to be in a bubble by himself away from the rest of the cast for much of the story. First he follows Mobius around, then Sylvie, then he wanders aimlessly in the void before following Sylvie once again and learning that Kang is a Really Bad Guy who he should be opposed to even though by this point he has interacted so little with the story unfolding around him that the audience doesn’t even understand why he should be choosing to play the hero.

The plot and the characters both suffer by being so incredibly unrelated to each other. A series, especially an MCU one, should tell an overarching narrative through the perspective of its main character.

In the beginning of the series, when Loki was still getting his bearings in the TVA, this lack of decision-making was more understandable, especially since some of his skills were still being shown-- he discovered Sylvie was hiding in nexus events, and he made the choice to leave Mobius and follow her. But by the latter half of the series he still hasn’t had much impact on the story or taken any actions of his own, and simply allows plot points to happen to him. Just because the Loki series had to introduce the TVA and Kang didn’t mean it had to forgo telling a story about its protagonist. If Loki’s story had been intrinsically tied to the overarching plot points, if his choices had been some of the primary factors determining how events ended up taking place, the series would have succeeded in every aspect. But instead Loki is pushed aside by the plot of his own series, a plot which subsequently ends up coming across as largely hollow and pointless due to its lack of character drive.

4. Loki’s arc. One of the main reasons MCU Loki is loved is for his excellent character development across his films. TVA Loki was extremely lacking in that aspect and chances to take his character in interesting new self-aware directions were thrown away without much thought.

Throughout the MCU, Loki is on a journey with many highs and lows. He goes from a bitter and disheartened prince standing in the shadow of his brother, to a self-loathing Jotun bent on destroying his own people in a desperate attempt to win his father’s love, to a half-mad partially mind-controlled dictator with delusions of grandeur fueled by his own insecurity, to a prisoner wondering what there is left for him to lose, to a savior of Asgard’s people finally coming to accept his place in what is left of his family, to a tragic sacrificial victim who knew he had to die so the true hero might live on. That’s a hell of a journey, incidentally shown in less than TWO HOURS of screen time, and the prospect of TVA Loki embarking on an equally stimulating one, this time told over the course of over four hours and shown from his own perspective the entire way through, was exciting. But as it turned out, this relatively simple expectation went completely unmet.

For a story trying to say so much about individuality and self-acceptance, the Loki series seemed to pass by every obvious opportunity to tackle those questions.

Sylvie’s introduction seemed like a good idea at first: Loki would be able to literally bond with himself and learn to accept who he is that way, and forays could be made to explore what Loki’s personality could have been like if he grew up under different circumstances! But aside from a scene or two in Episode 3, this was not how things ended up going. Loki didn’t come to any grand or important conclusions about his identity, he didn’t choose to act differently, all that happened was a vaguely-worded confession of pseudo-romantic feelings which was cut off in the middle, made no sense, and weakened the narrative in a whole host of other ways explained elsewhere. Loki’s encounter with other versions of themself in the Void was similarly meaningless: Loki didn’t end up expressing or demonstrating a single thing he learned from meeting all of those alternate selves, despite the fact that there was potential for massive self-discovery there.

Less than 2 hours of MCU screen time portrayed Loki more coherently than this entire series. Loki is loved because of how much he changes, and it felt like he didn’t in this series. He started off lost and stayed that way throughout the entire plot.

By the end of the series, it was impossible to identify who Loki had become. He said he didn’t want a throne, but it was not obvious why not. He looked sad to be betrayed by Sylvie, but never expressed what that meant to him. He seemed afraid once Kang was unleashed, but why? Why did he care about the Sacred Timeline? What were his motivations? Throughout the series the answers to these questions became less and less obvious, culminating in the final episode which ended without a single moment of reflection or explanation as to who Loki had become. He wasn’t a villain, but only because he wasn’t murdering people. He was in some capacity a hero, for… being against Kang, probably, but once again with no explanation as to why Loki had decided to feel that way. He never seemed self-assured in his heroism, as if he hadn’t chosen the role for himself. Again, making one’s own choices that shape the narrative are what differentiates a protagonist from a side character, but Loki did not do that in this series.

5. Loki and Sylvie’s relationship. Loki and Sylvie had the potential to be a powerful duo representing the process of self-acceptance but instead they were reduced to a strange pseudo-romance.

Despite Loki’s many developments in the films, he never truly liked himself. He has been known to act extremely confident and self-righteous at times, but this is merely the opposite side of the coin containing his self-loathing and insecurity. Having him literally meet and subsequently befriend himself in Episode 3 was a move towards developing this aspect of him and potentially teaching him to finally accept himself as he truly is, but this buildup was all shattered in Episode 4 when the relationship is portrayed to have romantic undertones. Instead of a powerful struggle to accept oneself, the relationship between Loki and Sylvie becomes a twisted thing which is memeable at best (selfcest LOL amirite?) and outright damaging to both characters and the very concept of loving oneself at worst.

Ultimately, Loki and Sylvie's relationship didn’t add anything to either character’s development and actively detracted from what could have been a touching story.

Romantic love is extremely different from self love; romantic love has connotations including dating conventions and sexuality which are impossible to ignore and in this case serve as a distraction. And on top of ruining a potentially powerful storyline, this strange relationship makes both Loki and Sylvie seem out of character. Loki is once again one thousand years old and he has never even had a true friend, so why would he possibly fall for someone after knowing them for only two days? Meanwhile in Sylvie’s case, Loki’s “feelings” for her cause the audience to pay more attention to her romantic life and gestures rather than her actual character and motivations.

6. Loki’s Sexuality and Gender Fluidity. Loki’s sexuality and gender has been shown in several comic runs, and the series was advertised as featuring this representation as well. But due to several fundamental errors and problematic storytelling this also fell flat.

Sylvie’s introduction filled many fans with hope regarding the portrayal of Loki’s identity. In the MCU neither of their LGBT identities had ever been touched upon, while the series introduced a female variant of Loki and explicitly stated their sexuality. But this portrayal soon unraveled, most notably in Episode 5, in which many other Loki variants were shown but not a single one besides Sylvie was non-male. On top of that, when TVA Loki mentioned Sylvie and referred to her as “a woman Variant of us”, the other Lokis agreed that that sounded “terrifying”. Why should a genderfluid being be afraid of a version of themselves presenting as a different gender? It read as both fluidphobic not to mention strangely sexist.

The pseudo-romance between Loki and Sylvie only aggravated the situation. Not only did the nature of the “relationship” seem to follow heteronormative storytelling tropes (falling in love after a couple days of knowing each other, one party being reduced to a love interest, valuing romantic love above any other type, etc) but it also seemed distressing and offensive to many genderfluid people. A romance between a male and a female Loki, one of which doesn’t even call herself by that name, seems to be implying that an individual becomes someone else when merely presenting as a different gender, which of course isn’t at all the case. The writing wasn’t necessarily malicious here, but it was certainly ignorant and potentially even harmful. The opportunity was there to translate Loki’s powerful comic representation into the framework of the MCU, but this attempt did not succeed.

7. Loki’s characterization. Loki is a chameleon, but there are certain traits fundamental to his character. These traits were either ignored or actively mocked in the series. The audience already knew “what makes a Loki a Loki", but the series threw that knowledge away.

Episode 1’s premise of stripping Loki of everything he is used to was an intriguing setup to ensure the discovery of the core of who Loki truly is. The only problem was that this truth didn’t end up being found at all. Mobius made fun of Loki’s most defining traits, such as his habits of lying to manipulate people and acting out of a place of insecurity, which seemed to be a signal for the narrative to forbid Loki from exhibiting any of those traits from that point on in any way. This reduction in Loki’s character was reflected in everything, from his lack of humor (in the films he’s even funny while he’s taking over the world!), the underpowered way in which he fought against Sylvie (he’ll use magic to dry his clothes, but fight with a damn vacuum cleaner?) to the way that he wore the same boring outfit in every single episode-- it may sound shallow, but clothes are important when presenting a character. Every one of Loki’s looks in the films said something about him and his state of mind, and sadly that bland TVA outfit seemed to convey that Loki really was nothing more than a subservient pawn in what was supposed to be his own story. Ironically, the writing stripped Loki of everything that made him Loki, and left us with nothing but a Jotun-shaped void to be swayed by the whims and wills of the characters and plot devices surrounding him.

8. Loki’s past and abilities. This series could have elaborated on aspects of his character which had been teased at in the films and theorized about by fans, but ended up being a disappointment in this aspect as well.

Aside from Loki’s characterization and development, something else the series ignores is much of his canon story in the films. Since Thor 1, a truth that always overshadowed Loki was his Jotun heritage. He struggled with it up until the time of his death, clearly visible in his relationship with his foster family. It’s understandable that Loki was supposed to be independent from Thor in his series, but that’s no excuse for completely ignoring this central part of who Loki is. It doesn’t matter how much he goes through or how much his circumstances change, this feeling of unbelonging sits deep in Loki’s core and should have been both explored and explicitly discussed in the series. A series all about Loki was the perfect opportunity for him to finally confront and explain his relationship with his heritage, and potentially come to terms with it as well. And this isn’t even to say how cool some more insight on Loki’s Jotun inheritance could have been-- hypotheticals aren’t the point of this review, but it would have been fascinating to see Loki reacting adversely to heat like he has been hinted to in the past or even using his ice powers like he did in Thor 1.

Loki's magic was tragically underused. It felt like he was stripped of all of his magical powers even after his TVA chains had been removed, and this was never explained.

A second huge oversight is his magic. His powers are all over the place in this series. They were always a bit vague in the films, but this series was the opportunity to set that right and explain exactly what Loki was capable of as a sorcerer, especially now that the MCU has embraced magic more than it had ten years ago. But instead, Loki showcased an inexplicable lack of magic use-- again, the vacuum cleaner fight can be presented as evidence. There is a single scene in which Loki says that he learned his magic from Frigga, but no information is given as to how much he learned or why he doesn’t always favor spells. His power levels are incredibly inconsistent (he forgoes using magic when first confronted by the TVA, but is later shown using telekinesis to save himself from being literally crushed to death). And, strangest of all, there is a scene in which he tells Sylvie that he “can’t” enchant living beings. Loki, the millennium year old Trickster sorcerer god, who can hold an Infinity Stone with his bare hands, reanimate Surtur in the Eternal Flame, and trick the average person using illusions with ease, can’t cast a little enchantment? And if so, why not? The series offered precious few explanations concerning Loki’s magical abilities and instead only raised more questions. And in this way, Loki is once again relegated into the background and left with not a single shred of any new characterization or development.

Loki contains multitudes, but the series reduced him to two dimensions.

This isn’t to mention every other facet of Loki’s story that could have potentially been explored to great success in this series-- his torture and subsequent partial mental influence at the hands of Thanos just before the events of Avengers 1 is one obvious example, as is his youth on Asgard, as are his suicidal tendencies (people don’t tend to survive falling off the Bifrost, and he knew that when he threw himself off of it), plus infinite other facets of him. Of course, it was both necessary and more interesting for this series to be its own story rather than one which lingered on past films-- but that’s not to say that none of these plot points should have come back, at least subtly, to play a role in this story. Plot points exist to be brought back later, not completely ignored. Otherwise a story may as well be written about a completely original character.

#loki #loki 2021 #loki disney+#loki discussion #loki discourse #loki spoilers #lokius #loki x mobius #loki x sylvie #sylki #marvel #marvel discourse #loki review #mcu loki #loki series #loki season finale #loki season 1 #loki ship

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shyficwriter · 3 years ago

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Temporary Home: Chapter 2

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Hosting the Guardians of the Galaxy proves to be... interesting. (Read: Difficult) Maybe it'd be easier if Rocket wasn't such an ass...

Part 1 here | Part 3 here

Author’s Note: Dropped hints of Reader's tragic backstory. Feel free to make guesses if you want lol (Also let me know if you like when I write Reader as a mystery. I've done it before and people seemed to like it, but if you feel stories like this are better as an OC, let me know that too) Also I can tell you guys right now this will end up being at least 6 chapters already.

Word Count: 6,217

You awoke to the feeling of your lover's arms wrapped around your waist, and you smile, sleepily snuggling backwards into the touch.

You are about to whisper their name, tell them good morning, but then you remember... it can't possibly be them.

Your eyes snap open.

Who the fuck is in your bed!?

With a startled scream you twist around and kick, realizing only once your assailant is on the floor that it was Mantis, who had also let out a startled cry at being flung off the bed.

"Mantis? What the hell are you doing?!" you cry, hand on your chest as you sit on your knees on the bed looking down at her on the floor.

Mantis looks at you with wide eyes. "I'm sorry! The storm kept making the loud noises and I was scared and-"

Your door flings open. Peter and Drax tumble in asking what's wrong, where's the danger?

Waving them off you say irritably, "Nothing. It's nothing. Just wasn't expecting to wake up to Mantis in my bed."

Peter lightly chuckles, almost nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "I guess we should have told you she can be a cuddler, huh?"

You throw a look at him and Drax. "You think?" You then shield your eyes. "Dude! Put some pants on or something!"

And that's how you also unfortunately learned that Drax sleeps in the nude.

***

Breakfast went more or less smoothly. You had to find a straw for Groot so he could drink out of a cup, and someone spilled their drink all over the floor, and Rocket made one or two more complaints about the indignity of needing to sleep in a crib, but all-in-all it went fairly smoothly.

Well, if you didn't count Rocket snapping at Kraglin's arm for accidentally resting his elbow on his tail. That was also how the drink got spilled, by the way. You just gave them an unamused glance at threw a towel at them from the counter on your way to grab an apple. They got the message.

Ok, so it wasn't totally smooth, but it definitely could have been worse. Maybe.

When you were finished your breakfast you got up to do the dishes you had meant to wash the previous night, this time being sure not to burn your hands off. Rocket hopped on the counter to drop his bowl in while you were washing, promptly scampering off without so much as a please or thank you, which slightly annoyed you, and you turned to side eye him as he hopped off the counter, but you let it slide for then.

It apparently also annoyed Peter too as you heard him say in a hushed irritated whisper, "Rocket!" only to be responded with Rocket whispering back "What? She was already doing them!"

You pretended you couldn't hear them.

After you finished the dishes and wiped up the counter you went upstairs, having had an idea that might prevent another incident like this morning from happening.

You made your way into your room and closed the door behind you before heading to your desk to retrieve the key to the attic from the top drawer.

This would prove pointless, however, as you'd soon find that not only had Fury's team not bothered to lock it back up when they finished, they hadn't even properly latched it. You sigh in annoyance, but push on to the attic anyway.

You come to the landing and take in the space you hadn't visited in some time. Boxes stacked neatly around the rafted walls leaving plenty space to walk. Light peaked through the small windows at either end of the rectangular space.

You located the box you came for on the furthermost corner of the attic, the stretch of floor that rested above the ceiling of the room Drax now stayed in. You open the box, and pull out a stuffed bear, looking at it with a mix of longing and sadness, remembering who owned it past. Shaking the memories away, you thought to open another box next to it, pulling from it a small wooden toy car. It wasn't fancy, little more than a carved block of red-painted wood with some windows bored-in and some black stained wooden wheels, but you still thought it'd be a nice gesture- you mean, you thought it'd keep the kid busy... You doubted they had brought many toys with them to keep him occupied.

And after all, how much could these items really serve you by staying up in the attic til the end of time?

A teddy bear for Mantis, and a toy car for the little wooden child to play with.

After a moment of being stuck in the memories the objects brought, you close the boxes back up and leave the attic with the toys, locking the door after you made it back into the bedroom. You placed the bear on Mantis's pillow, and went to return the key to the drawer.

Before heading downstairs you decided you would leave the toy in the room Groot was staying in, rather than give it to the child directly. You weren't good with sentiment, and he'd find it soon enough anyway. Less awkward this way.

The door was open so you stepped just inside. A wood framed double bed rested in the left corner, the crib that Rocket seemed so unhappy with rested in the right. The twisting in your stomach came back, and you set the toy to the right of the doorframe on the floor, eager to leave the room. Too many memories, none of which you wanted.

You wanted to clear your head, so you decided you'd have a tend to your garden, make sure the storm hadn't torn anything asunder, and you were sure that it could use a good weeding anyway. You could also stand a little time alone, too. You weren't used to having people around the house anymore, let alone eight of them having been sprung on you overnight. Questionable judgement on your part, volunteering for this was, you were sure. Then you remembered this was all part of Fury's plan anyway, so you supposed the choice wasn't even really yours, so maybe you weren't entirely to blame.

You had just sat down on the hall bench to lace your boots when you noticed Mantis and Gamora coming out of the sitting room, Mantis looking uncomfortable and Gamora irritated as they made their way past you and to the end of the hall.

Gamora knocked on the bathroom door roughly and in a loud but firm voice said, "Rocket! Hurry up, Mantis has to go and she says you've been in there forever."

"I have not!" came Rocket's reply, "And why doesn't she use the one upstairs?"

"Drax is taking a shower." Gamora answered irritably.

"So?" came Rocket's incredulous reply.

"Rocket." Gamora said warningly.

"If she can't pee just 'cause someone's showering then she can hold it," came the response from behind the door.

Mantis made a small unhappy noise and shifted uncomfortably, prompting Gamora to smack the door once more. "Rocket!" she said more forcefully, her tone having switched fully from irritated to angry.

You narrowed your eyes as you tied. Clearly the raccoon was going to be a problem.

"Ok! Ok! Jeez!" Rocket said in frustration, opening the door and walking out, Mantis quickly entering once he had cleared the doorway.

Gamora just huffed at him in annoyance and began to walk back towards the sitting room.

Having just finished tying your boots you pulled your jeans over them and straightened up, eyes still narrowed at Rocket, which he noticed.

"What?"

"Don't do that again." you say flatly, reaching over to grab your earbuds from the hall table. "You keep being an asshole and we're gonna have a problem."

Rocket looked at you defiantly, arms crossed, clearly irritated that you were telling him what to do. "What you gonna do about it?"

Still in the hallway, Gamora turned to glare at him.

Yondu exited the kitchen from the door further up the hall, saw Gamora glaring and turned to see you and Rocket looking like you were about to have a standoff. He had half-heard the conversation from the kitchen, but stood there with an eyebrow raised, curious to see how'd this would turn out.

You looked at Rocket calmly as you put one earbud in. "Fuck around and find out." was your only answer as you inserted your other earbud and turned into the kitchen via the other door at the end opposite of Yondu, making your way towards the back door.

Yondu chuckled and Gamora rolled her eyes as Rocket flipped you the bird behind your back and angrily stormed past them to the sitting room.

***

Yondu found Peter in the sitting room looking among the many bookshelves along the back and sides of the back half of the room.

"Ya reckon you can still read Terran, boy?"

Peter looked at him, ignoring that 'Terran' wasn't a language, and said in a slightly offended tone, "Of course!" before quietly adding, "The translator helps too..." under his breath as he turned back to examining the books.

Kraglin laughed from his place on the sofa. "Didn't know Quill could read at all, Cap'n."

Peter shot him a glare even though he knew Kraglin wouldn't be able to see it and Rocket, who was also sitting on the couch to keep an eye on Groot, said, "Why you still call him captain? Did you forget about a little thing called a mutiny? Pretty sure you were there..."

Gamora and Peter both snapped at him, Gamora hissing "Rocket!" and Peter scolding, "Not cool, dude!"

Yondu eyed him. "Ya know I can still run my arrow through you, right, Rat?" He leaned against a bookshelf. "Yer lucky it'd be mighty rude to get yer blood all over the floor of our host."

Rocket mock held his hands up, "Alright, alright, soRRy. Didn't know the wound was still fresh. Lighten up."

This only earned him a few eye-rolls before Peter returned his gaze to the bookcases. "There's so many." he said. He picked up a white book that said "Atlas of Human Anatomy" and flipped though the pages. "Whoa." he said flipping the book around to show Yondu the pictures.

"Yeah, that's what yer insides look like, boy."

Gamora approached and Peter handed her the book while he took another one from a shelf higher up. Gamora looked that the pictures and said, "Hm. You only have one liver. Explains why you're such a lightweight."

This earned chuckles from the others and Peter said, "I'm gonna ignore that. Look at this one." He was holding a book of fairytales. "I should tell you some of these stories sometime," he said, looking at the list of titles. "I remember my mom telling me at least half of these."

Yondu decided he might as well glance over the books as well, seeing as he didn't exactly have much better to do. He peered over the titles; Herbal Medicine- might be good to know... Grim Tales of Horror- Heh, maybe he could scare Quill with it... Wound Treatment- definitely good to know... Archery Fundamentals- he might actually look at that one later, just to see how the Terrans do it... What to Expect When You're Expecting- weird title, wonder what that's about?

Before he could pick up the book to examine it Kraglin spoke up. "Hey Pete, is it normal for Terran houses to be this... empty?"

"What do you mean?" asked Mantis, having just walked in to rejoin the group. "It doesn't appear to be empty?" She glanced around at the furniture in confusion.

"No, I don't mean that. I mean- Like there's no photos? Don't most people keep photos of their families and stuff out? Little knick-knacks? Personal effects?"

Peter looked around. "You're right. Well- at least that's how I remember it. My grandparents did, so did all my relatives." It finally hit him how there seemed to be none of that in your house. "I guess it is weird."

Yondu had noticed too the first night they arrived. Not a single photo adorned the walls or shelves. Not in the sitting room, not in the hall or kitchen either. A few plants sat here and there, but other than that, there was almost no personality. It did feel empty, for lack of better word.

Rocket spoke up, suggesting that maybe you just "didn't feed into all that sentimental crap."

The others shrugged. Maybe he was right.

However, Yondu felt there might be something to the emptiness. He felt something was a little off, although he kept it to himself. It was likely nothing a little watchful eye wouldn't suss out. He had already been watching you, trying to get a read on his new host. It was strange to him that you would live in a place this big by yourself, and it didn't help matters that you hadn't seemed willing to answer that question when he asked. Sure, it was none of his business really, but still odd.

***

Mantis came outside just as you were about finished weeding. She stopped to admire the growing cabbages and asked a few questions about the various other vegetables and you removed an ear bud to give her answers, albeit short ones. Soon enough she got distracted by a small white butterfly and wondered off to chase it. "Don't go into the forest!" you call after her. "Don't want you getting lost!"

She hollered back an "Ok!" and you turned back to finish pulling the last of the weeds.

Once you were finished you dusted yourself off and decided to head inside for some water. You had only gotten a few feet inside when you could hear the sound of Mantis screaming, and it was getting closer. You turned around just in time for her to run through the door and into you.

Alarmed, you check her over. You instinctually grab onto her hands, then her shoulders, and finally cupping her face as you looked up and down for any injury as you say, "What?! What's wrong?!"

Mantis sniffed. "I saw this cloud of tiny black things, I thought it looked interesting, so I reached to touch it, and they started biting."

You let out a breath. Midges. She had only reached into a cloud of midges. "Gah-! Don't scare me like that! I thought you'd been hurt!" you scold. Seeing her hurt expression you softened. "Let me see."

She showed you her hand and her upper arm. The rest of her arm had fortunately been spared by her long arm bands. "It itches."

"Yeah, just what I thought. Midge bites." Sure enough, little faint pink welts were already forming that you missed earlier in your shock. Normally the bites didn't appear so fast, but you assumed it must just be because whatever type of alien she was made her more sensitive to them. "You'll be fine. Come here." You led her to a drawer and pulled out a tube of gel that would help with the itching. You applied the gel for her. "Better?" you asked.

She nodded and you told her that if she needed the gel again she could find it in the same drawer, also telling her not to scratch the bites lest she make them worse before sending her off.

Once she left you sighed and finally got your water. As you drank you contemplated finding something else to keep you busy.

***

Yondu had been about to head upstairs when he heard a muffled sound of Mantis yelling before it was abruptly cut off with an "Oof!"

He walked to the doorway to see what was going on, telling himself he wasn't being nosy, he just... had nothing better to do what with being stuck here and all.

He watched as you checked Mantis over, as you scolded her for scaring you, and as you treated her bites, noticing that Mantis's "feelers," as he called them, glowed almost the whole time, though you didn't seem to notice yourself, being preoccupied.

He huffed a silent laugh through his nose. For you not being exactly happy with this arrangement, your actions now didn't exactly match your previous "I don't care, just don't annoy me." attitude. But maybe he was just reading it wrong. Maybe you were only worried because your boss wouldn't be happy if any of them got hurt while in your care.

When you sent Mantis off and he saw she was approaching the doorway he quickly backed out so as to not be seen spying.

"Hey, Bug." he said quietly once she was in the hall, making her jump.

Seeing it was only him, she relaxed and gave a friendly smile. "Yes?"

"Come here," he nodded toward the stairs. "Walk with me."

She obeyed and together they ascended the stairs.

"So, yer feelers there, they glow when yer doin' that 'reading peoples feelins' thing, right?"

Mantis nodded, smiling wide.

"Couldn't help but notice you two in the kitchen," he admitted, adding that he noticed she was doing her empath thing back there when you were fixing her up, and asked what kind of reading she got off you. Just out of curiosity, of course...

Mantis pondered and said, "It felt... maternal? Almost? It was quite nice to feel. It was almost like being hugged."

"Huh..." is all he managed to respond. Maybe Mantis was mistaking your real emotion for something else? It didn't quite fit with 'grumpy reclusive agent who got tricked into taking in a group of dysfunctional people.'

He then asked her if you knew she could 'do that', meaning read someone empathically. He wondered if it would be possible for Terrans to fake an emotion well enough to fool an empath. He highly doubted it, but who was really to say?

Mantis shook her head. She said she hadn't thought to bring it up, and asked him if she should tell you right now, wondering if she had been rude by not saying something.

He responded by telling her not to tell you yet.

"Why? Mantis asked.

"Oh, because it'll be real funny later, trust me." he said. It wasn't the real reason, but he knew that she was more likely to keep a secret if he told her that. She liked to make people laugh.

"Oh! Like a practical joke!" she giggled.

"Uh, sure. Like that." Yondu smiled. "You can run along now, Bug."

Mantis trotted down the stairs while Yondu pondered over the odd puzzle pieces of his host.

***

You spent most of the day feeling antsy. You had always made it a point to keep yourself busy with your work, either for Fury or with work on your home, and knowing that you were essentially retired for the foreseeable future made you anxious.

It was when Peter came outside for some fresh air that he found you pacing along the back of the house, seemingly making an effort not to go past the windows.

"You're gonna wear a hole in the ground." he joked.

You only looked at him and sighed, but continued pacing.

Sensing you were agitated about something he tried to break the ice. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Nothing to talk about." you reply.

"Right. So you're just pacing for no reason. I'm sure it has nothing to do with any recent changes or anything." He crossed his arms and leaned against the door with a knowing grin.

"Look- Just... I'm just not used to this," you admitted. "I'm not used to people being here, I'm not used to not working on a case..." you continued to pace.

"Well," Peter pondered, "What would you be doing if we weren't here? What would you do on a normal day off."

"I'd be working on the electrical, but Fury just had to take that away from me." you say with a toss of your hand towards the house.

"Oh." Peter said. He couldn't help you there. "Well, what would you normally do to relax?"

You stopped. "What?" You shook your head, "I don't need to relax, I just need to find something to do." You began pacing again.

Peter gave you a strange look. He remembered what he heard Fury say the previous night about you not having taken a vacation in five years. "You really don't know how to relax, do you?"

You then stop pacing in front of him, as if trying to prove him wrong. "I could if I wanted." you say defiantly.

"Sure ya can." He grinned back at you.

He was trying to bait you. You rolled your eyes and waved him off. "What do you know." You start to pace again but then stop to look at him again. "You, um, ever had Earth food before?"

Peter smiles. "Well I lived here until I was eight, so yeah. I've had it before."

You widen your eyes slightly in surprise. "So you're from Earth?- I didn't realize. I just thought you were all from space."

"Nope."

"And the other guy- Kraglin?"

"Nah, He looks Terran, but he's from Xandar. It's just me."

"Oh," you say, the wonder of how he had come about living in space being brushed aside by your need to be busy, "Well have any of the others tried Earth food before? 'Cause I could maybe cook something tonight... you know, to pass the time." You were already mentally preparing the ingredients in your head. You already knew you had potatoes in the cellar, and some meat and a bag of mixed frozen veggies in the freezer. You were almost certain you didn't have any lamb, but you could substitute ground beef and make shepherd's pie like your grandmother used to make.

"I could ask, but I'm sure they'd be willing. They're not exactly the type of bunch to turn down free food." he laughed.

"Nah, don't bother. If they eat it, they eat it. If they don't, they don't. I don't care," you say, not meeting his eyes as you shoo him from the door so you could enter the house. "Not like it's gonna be a regular thing, ya know. Just doing it 'cause I'm bored."

"Right. Of course." Peter said, smiling as he followed you inside. If living with Yondu and later Rocket had taught him anything, it was how to tell if someone was putting up a shell, and you definitely were. He then made it his mission to chip it away. Who knew how long they'd be stuck there? Might as well attempt to make friends with you in the meantime.

You pulled out a skillet and let it heat up with some oil before grabbing some ground beef from the freezer.

"Need any help?" Peter asked.

"Nope. Go play." you say absentmindedly, setting the package on the counter.

Peter chuckled. "Go play?"

You shook your head. "Eh- You know what I meant. Shoo. I'll call you when it's finished."

"Maybe another time then." he said, slightly disappointed you were kicking him out of the kitchen as he wanted to try and get to know you a little, but he didn't show it.

"Yeah, maybe." you reply, already heading to the cellar with a bowl to grab some potatoes.

***

Peter mentioned that you were cooking to the others when he joined them in the sitting room, mostly to tell them that even if they (Rocket) didn't end up liking this Terran food, to still try and be nice. He said that while you acted like you didn't care if they ate it or not, he didn't want anyone (Rocket) being rude because he could tell you were having a rough time adjusting to everything.

Rocket rolled his eyes but everyone seemed to more or less agree with Peter to be nice and went back to what they were doing.

It didn't take long for the smell to start wafting from the kitchen, prompting Kraglin to say that whatever you were making, it at least smelled good.

Groot nodded then looked at Rocket. "I am Groot."

"I don't want to play tag." said Rocket.

Groot made puppy dog eyes at Rocket. "I am Groot."

"It won't hurt ya to play with the kid for a little bit, boy." said Yondu, polishing his arrow at the the table on the other end of the room by the bookcases.

"You do it then!" Rocket complained.

"I'm too old to be doing that kid stuff, boy. 'Sides, yer more Twig's size." he chuckled, never looking up from his task.

"I am Groot." Groot said sadly, really laying it on thick. Peter and Gamora hid smiles behind their hands as they pretended to be focused on the movie playing on the TV screen, Kraglin finally having figured out how the Netflix worked.

Rocket rolled his eyes. "Alright! Fine! I'll play the stupid game." he relented, muttering under his breath that he shouldn't have ever taught him that game.

Groot shot up in glee and tagged him on the knee before taking off towards Yondu, making a hard left about a meter from the table and causing Rocket to slide on the wooden floor into the table leg. Yondu laughed so hard he nearly dropped his arrow and Rocket glared at him before declaring that Groot was "Really in for it now!" and making chase, following the tiny tree child out into the hall and up the stairs.

***

You listened to the sound of giggles and little feet running upstairs, then down the stairs, getting louder and softer depending where the little feet happened to run and you smiled. You missed that sound... You shook yourself out of the memory before it could play in your mind, refusing to let yourself get sentimental over a sound.

You had just put the mix of meat and veggies into a glass pan and turned away from the stove to start mashing your drained potatoes when a flash of brown and orange zoomed past your feet and nearly made you lose your balance.

"Hey Hey! No running in the kitchen! Take it outside!" you cry out, grateful you hadn't been carrying anything. "Shouldn't need to tell you that, I'm not your mother." You shoot them a warning look as you continued over to the counter.

Then you hear Rocket say, "Good thing! You'd probably be terrible at it!"

You swallow and clenched your jaw, looking down at the bowl of potatoes. "Get out of the kitchen," you say firmly, not looking towards him.

Rocket raised an eyebrow, having expected more of a fight than just being told calmly to leave, but he did so anyway when Groot tugged on his the leg of his outfit.

***

Peter and Gamora's head snapped toward the kitchen when they heard you scolding the boys, and their eyes narrowed a bit when they heard Rocket's response, but like him they of course hadn't realized the weight of his words. They only knew that there was no reason for him to say that other than him just wanting to be a dick.

When Rocket walked back into the sitting room Kraglin was the one who scolded him this time. "Do you really need to be such an ass to everyone you meet?"

This was followed by Gamora scolding him and saying that you didn't have to let them stay here, and that maybe he should try not to be so mean to the person willing to let them stay in their home.

Rocket looked to Drax, and then Yondu, to back him up, but he received nothing, so he settled for grumbling and climbing on top of the back of the couch to sulk.

***

An hour later Peter walked back into the kitchen to get some water and saw you putting plates out.

"Food's done, if you want to get the others." you say gruffly, putting down the last of the plates.

Your table wasn't quite big enough to fit everyone, being only a six seater, but you figured the kid and the asshole raccoon could eat up on the counter until a better solution could be found.

The other's filed in as you put the pan of food on a towel in the middle of the table. You look up. "Food's there." You then point to the spatula, "Here's something to serve it. Help yourselves." you say, adding that Groot and Rocket could eat on the counter since the table wasn't big enough before starting to walk toward the other door as the others sat down.

"You're not eating with us?" asked Mantis, seeming a little disappointed.

You kept walking. "Not hungry."

Yondu narrowed his eyes and spoke. "Should we assume it's poisoned then?"

This make you turn back. "Why the hell would I poison it?" you ask angrily.

Yondu stayed cool, crossing his arms and tilting his chin up as he said, "Well you went to the trouble to cook, but you're not eating it. Seems mighty suspicious to me."

Drax and Kraglin exchanged confused glances. Neither of them understood why Yondu was accusing you of trying to kill them.

Yondu didn't really think you had poisoned the food, he was doing one of the things he did best. Playing a con. He was as sure as he was blue that your lack of appetite was a direct cause of Rocket being an absolute shit, and he'd be damned if someone was going to offer their home and cook for his group and then not join to eat it because the rat hurt their feelings. He may have been a space pirate, but he still knew a thing or two about good form, and that wasn't it.

"First off, it wasn't trouble. Only did it because I got bored. I couldn't care less if you eat it or not," you said with a roll of your eyes, trying to keep your tone even despite the insult.

"I think you'd care if I said I'm not gonna let anyone else eat it either until you sit down and prove to me it's not poisoned by eating with us."

Your nostrils flare. "You can't be serious."

"Oh I am. What's it gonna be? Ya really gonna let me make Twig and Bug here go hungry?" He grinned a wide smug grin and received a confused look from Peter who was wondering why he was acting like this. Gamora shot Peter a look as if to ask the same question, but he just shrugged and shook his head to let her know he was just as confused as she was. Mantis and Groot just looked at Yondu like he was nuts.

You seethed but approached the cabinet to pull down a plate for yourself. "You're a real peice of work. Come into my house and accuse me of poisoning you lot-"

"Yeah, yeah. Just eat it." Yondu snarked.

You refused to eat until everyone else was served, but did finally relent to take the first bite to satisfy the blue man's irritating request.

Seemingly satisfied, Yondu gave the clear for everyone else to eat, and despite the awkward and rocky start, the rest of supper actually went more smoothly than breakfast had. You didn't speak much, but everyone else seemed to like the meal well enough.

When everyone had finished Peter insisted that he and Yondu stay behind to do the the dishes for you, saying it'd be rude to make you both cook and clean up. You didn't argue, wanting to put distance between you and them anyway. You stated that you were going to go take a shower, convinced that the new boiler Fury imposed upon you could handle both water uses at once.

Once Peter was sure you were gone he turned to Yondu. "What the hell was that? What happened to agreeing to be nice?"

"I was nice." Yondu said flippantly.

Gamora scolded him, saying that accusing you of poisoning them wasn't "nice."

He only shrugged, handing a plate to Peter and stating that it got you to eat, so he didn't care.

This, of course, earned looks of bewilderment from the rest of the team. He continued, "It would've been bad form to let our host cook and then not eat any of it, boy. Thought I'd have taught ya better than that."

Peter frowned. "No, you taught me to fight and steal things."

Yondu gave him a look but didn't get a chance to reply before Rocket hopped down from the counter saying, "Who cares if she didn't want supper? She's an adult."

Yondu then turned his full attention to Rocket, saying that he knew it was his fault you hadn't wanted to eat in the first place.

"Me?! What did I do?" Rocket scoffed, majorly offended by the accusation.

Drax answered, "You've been rude since we got here. You complain about everything, and you insulted our host just for telling you not to run through the kitchen."

Rocket rolled his eyes. "Really?" He looked defiantly up at Drax, "You honestly think me saying she'd make a terrible mother hurt her widdle feelings? Look around! She doesn't even have kids!"

Tired of hearing him, Yondu said, "If yer not gonna be helpful, Rat, go find somewhere else to be."

"Fine. Bye, losers." was Rocket's reply as he collected Groot and departed for their room.

***

After your shower you stayed in your room for the rest of the evening, scrolling through tumblr on your phone to pass the time.

Eventually Mantis comes up to get ready for bed, and she spots the teddy bear you left on her pillow. "What's this?" she asks, picking it up.

"Teddy Bear. You sleep with it. Figured you could, you know, cuddle that instead when you get scared at night."

Mantis's eyes grow wide, and her waterline wet. Her bottom lip quivers as she says, "You- You gave me a gift?"

Really hoping she wasn't about to cry you say, "If you want to call it that, I guess..."

Mantis practically attacks you with a hug and an excited squeal. "Thank you! Thank you! I love it!"

You all but fall backward on the bed from her hug attack. "Uh- Glad you like it." you manage, patting her on the back before gently persuading her to let go.

She straightened up and hugged the bear tightly to her chest with a big smile before setting it back on her pillow so she could get ready for bed. Before she left, however, she came back to you and grabbed your hands, saying again how much she loved the bear, and you honestly started to wonder if she had never been given a gift in her life.

You noticed the little antennae on her head were now glowing, and you then wondered if that was happening because she was happy as you felt an unexpected, though not unwelcome, feeling of peace and happiness wash over you.

You smile, finding her whole display endearing as she giggled and released your hands before finally leaving the room.

By the time she came back about 15 minutes later, the feeling had already worn off, replaced by your previous melancholy. You heard Mantis returning and you pretended to be asleep just in case she would have tried to hug attack you again.

Once her breath deepened and you thought she was asleep you sat up. Maybe a walk would make you feel better.

You quietly pull on some jeans and made your way out of the bedroom into the dark landing, taking a moment to notice a thin line of light under the door of the room Yondu and Kraglin were sharing.

You didn't turn on the light before descending the stairs. You knew this house like the back of your hand, even in the dark, and you quietly made your way down so as to not disturb any sleepers.

You make your way into the hall to grab your boots and ear buds before cutting through the kitchen and opening the back door. Putting in your ear buds and finding some music reflective of your mood, you set out into the cool night air.

***

Yondu and Kraglin stayed up a bit later in their room, just talking about nothing of much importance. How Rocket was being a dick, how it was mostly his fault they had to go into hiding, and wondering how long it might be until they could all come out of hiding.

Yondu's bed was pushed against the window, his and Kraglin's beds much in a similar arrangement to yours and Mantis's.

Movement outside caught his eye.

"What is it?" Kraglin asked, noticing how Yondu's attention had turned to the window and he had gone quiet.

Yondu turned to him, a look of puzzlement painting his face, and he told him it looked like you were walking out into the forest.

Kraglin raised an eyebrow. "What would she be doing that for?"

Yondu shook his head to indicate his lack of explanation.

"Should we investigate?"

Yondu thought for a moment before deciding they wouldn't follow you. Not yet.

But he'd be keeping an eye on you.

#gotg #guardians of the galaxy #x reader #gotg fanfiction #mantis #yondu udonta #peter quill #rocket raccoon #kraglin obfonteri #drax the destroyer #groot #roommates

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iamanartichoke · 4 years ago

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I’m sure this is an unpopular opinion so don’t @ me but this has been bugging me so much since WandaVision came out that I just need to get it off my chest.

I don’t understand Wanda’s grief.

I can appreciate that the writers are going to great lengths to portray her grief as debilitating and genuine and raw, and that it’s more or less being treated respectfully.

I can recognize that it’s an important story to be told, both in terms of framing a narrative around the stages of grief and using the MCU platform to bring awareness to the ways in which people struggle with loss, in addition to being fairly creative (the tv shows through the decades is pretty good) and setting up a multiverse that will tie into other franchises (Dr. Strange, probably Loki).

Like, I get all that.

But the root of Wanda’s grief is coming from Vision’s death. Yes, it’s about Pietro too, along with her background trauma, but 75% of this is about Vision - his death being a catalyst of sorts, the way in which he died, the pain of losing a romantic partner. But I just ... don’t ... feel it.

I keep seeing those gifs of Wanda sinking to her knees and breaking down in the empty lot where their house was supposed to be. It should be an extremely emotional moment, but all I think when I look at them is, when did they get so established as to be planning to build a house? Why am I supposed to care about this and feel Wanda’s loss with her?

Prior to Infinity War, we really didn’t get any setup for the Vision/Wanda ship. They didn’t interact at all in Age of Ultron. In Civil War, they may have shared a few interested looks but they were ultimately on different sides, with Vision even discouraging Wanda from doing what she felt was right (”If you do this, they’ll never stop being afraid of you” - which, I hate that, but that’s another topic).

They had a conversation about fear, and also apparently Vision would just phase through Wanda’s bedroom walls (”Vision, we’ve talked about this,”), and ... that’s it? The majority of their relationship was established off-screen, in between movies. The entirety of their struggle in Infinity War consisted of the narrative telling us Vision had to be saved because he and Wanda were so much in love, but it did little to show us that was true.

We didn’t get to see them getting from point A to point B. We didn’t get to see them interacting awkwardly while we knew that they liked one another but were dancing around it; we didn’t get to see their first kiss or watch them open up to one another; we weren’t there when they fell in love. By the time Infinity War came around and they were supposed to be a serious couple, I was not invested in them in the least (and actively disliked Vision but, again, another topic).

This is all a very long-winded way of saying that it frustrates me that this whole premise of grief and loss (an entire tv series!) was built around this relationship that was barely established whatsoever in the MCU and that I personally feel no investment in. The “stakes” aren’t there for me; I can’t identify or understand Wanda’s grief because I don’t know what it is she’s grieving in the first place. I know cognitively, of course, but I don’t know emotionally.

At least with Pietro’s death, the relationship was well-established. We saw how much they relied on one another; they were physically affectionate and Pietro was framed as kind of a caretaker for Wanda and it was clear that these were two siblings who were and are incredibly close. I still feel sad about Wanda losing Pietro. Not Vision.

Not really to make this about Loki and Thor, because it isn’t, but at least we can understand Thor’s deep grief about Loki’s death in Infinity War, in addition to the loss of his friends and of Asgard, because those were all established things the audience was invested in. In TFA, when Bucky fell off the train, it was gut-wrenching for us as well as Steve because the narrative showed us how close they were and how much they loved each other. But Wanda and Vision ... it’s like how Clint’s family came out of nowhere and suddenly we’re supposed to care about them being dusted and sympathize with Clint’s grief-fueled murder spree. (I don’t.)

I did not intend for this to be such a long post and, again, please don’t @ me bc this is just me getting it off my chest, not trying to start any discourse. Ultimately it just comes down to me being extremely frustrated at the quality given to Wanda’s grief arc when the thing she’s grieving didn’t, from the audience’s perspective, warrant it. It perpetuates that telling and not showing is a valid narrative choice, and perpetuates the idea that the audience is supposed to care about what they tell us to care about, not what we end up being invested in based on the quality of the story. And maybe that is a little about Loki, too, and the disconnect between how the narrative portrays him vs what tptb tell us he’s supposed to be - which, unfortunately, is at the root of so much of the meta and discourse regarding Loki’s general existence.

But, again, that’s another topic.

#long post #sorry #this is not disparaging to #wandavision #in any way shape or form #i appreciate what they're doing #and appreciate that it's being done well #this is just my own personal hangup #i mean am i alone in this or???#idk idk but just wanted to get it out there #wandavision spoilers #i guess?#bold of me to post this entire thing and i haven't even watched the show #yet #lmao #oh well

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itachi-with-a-chicken · 3 years ago

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Come be my teacher pt 2

Aish we're back

Link to part 1

Jung Hoseok nearly died to actually make publishable Yoongi's book

But eventually he made it

He hoped the day at the luna park was enough for Jungkook to be forgiven after spending nearly every afternoon with Namjoon and his kid brother

Mostly, he hoped Namjoon could forgive him to have to deal with both his child and his own kid brother

When he mentioned it, Namjoon has a variety of emotions.

Surprise, then recognition. Eventually softness.

"they have been good, all things considered." He laughs a little "Just warning you, Jungkook took a passion for Just Dance"

Well, Hoseok considers when he watches his son weirdly dancing in front of the television, there are worst things that could happen

Also, now that he has a life back, he can discard Min Yoongi in his man cave or whatever he likes to call his attic and go back to his routine

Which means, pick up and drive is kid to school

And see again the cute teacher

Not that he cares

But you know

He does

That day Kim Taehyung was wearing a dark green vest and a white shirt and looked as an absolute old man

His housemate confirmed it and if Kim Seokjin tells you you look bad, it's true

The thing is, Taehyung didn't want to look hot, he just wanted to look comfy and cozy to his kids

When he steps outside to collect the kids, he regretted every choice made that morning

Because there it was. In all his elegant glory. Jung Hoseok.

The two exchanged a small wave and Tae nearly forgot he has something to say to him

"Come on Taehyung" he tries to say to himself "he's just another parent. Nothing to worry about. Nothing special. Not a crush, no sir"

"Hoseok-ssi" he calls him. By his name, because the first thing Jung Hoseok told him as they met is "you're taking my son most of the week, we can at least call each other by our own names"

"yah?" He was already moving towards the car, dammit.

Stumbling at bit at the beginning, Tae tells him about the little recital he proposed to the school board that year

Hoseok beamed at him

"that sounds wonderful! kids will have loads of fun"

Taehyung was positively gloating, but tried to hide it

"so this week it's going to be parents-teachers conference, so we can explain every detail"

Nobody will pry from his cold hands the knowledge that the reason why it was happening that week was that Taehyung knew as a fact that Hoseok was busy until now

And also, that nobody knew about the meeting in the first place

The thing is, a meeting was supposed to happen at some point, and Taehyung was a very considerate teacher, okay?

He needed to tell the principal about the meeting, tho

Ugh

On the other hand, Hobi was quite serene.

The wonders of a full night sleep, he guessed

Nope nothing to do with the cute teacher and the cute vest that made him look cozy and cuddly and all the stuff a grown up should not look like

It would be a lie to say that it didn't do anything to Hoseok.

But then again, Hoseok can be a good liar

His phone chimed in, showing a text from Yoongi

"so did you ask him out?"

"who?" "What do you mean who" "i mean who would I ask out" "the teacher, dumbass"

Hoseok stared at the phone for a solid five seconds

"you don't even know what day of the week it is" "And yet I know you brought the little monster to school, so you've seen him"

For someone who forgets to eat, Yoongi can be really persistent about stuff

"why" he just asks, glancing away from his computer. If anything, he knows Yoongi has little to none interest in his love life by itself

Not after he finished all the people he could set him up, anyway

Including himself

That was so weird that both kinda decided it never happened

So back to the text, Hoseok patiently waited for whatever was the real reason behind such concern

"I may or may not started planning the next book based on whatever vibe you and your lovely teacher give off"

Hoseok shrieked, but just a little

"but you know!!! Most of the time the final product have nothing to do with the beginning!!!" Yoongi continues

Six exclamation point usually mean that he's either lying or trying to convince him of something he didn't actually believe in. So lying, after all.

"and what's the plot" hoseok asks, but then "no, nvm. Don't tell me. Just. Idk. No"

Yoongi didn't reply, but then his editorial instinct won over all his better judgement

"okay, tell me the plot"

Yoongi answer arrived after less then three minutes and it was a shit ton long. He basically already planned everything and all he needed was the main characters

"and they would be me and Kim Taehyung?" Was the only answer Hoseok managed to cave

Because yeah, if life was a written book maybe they could have been the perfect romance

Even by changing some basic stuff - "don't worry you're all idols here" - and making some unrealistic concessions - "your character is the greater dancer of all times" - the way Yoongi was telling the story

A story that didn't exist

makes him want to fall in love for real

But here's the catch: they were real people, and crush on your child's teacher is problematic at best, creepy at worst

So no, he won't be pursuing that. Thank you very much

(but gave yoongi permission to work on the story nevertheless because, you know, it's his job)

And he r e a l l y is set on his mind the day of the meeting after school

Doesn't matter that he exited work early just to go home and shower

And definitely didn't have anything to do with his choice of wardrobe that saw some neat jeans he had brought but never wore and his best fitting pastel red shirt

Along with a leather jacket because what the hell he was still young after all

And if some heads turned to check him out, when he entered the classroom, well. He couldn't blame them

He sat gingerly on his child desk and waited. Mr Kim still nowhere to be seen

Talking about Kim Taehyung

His day started the night before with his housemate that, in order to forget his impossible (only according to him) crush decided to have a drink

And since it would be too sad to drink alone, he had to bring Tae down with him

Little mattered he had to work the morning after and kids were not merciful with headache

He enters the room with the parents with eyes fixed on the floor, trying to remember everything he needed to say and--- oh

Of course Jung Hoseok was there

Of course he was stunning

And of cour-- no wait he was talking to Namjoon? What was he doing here?

Oh right. Mixed classes. His kids and mr Lee were together in this project.

Having the ten years old doing the talking and the eight years old doing the dancing was his idea after all

Mr Lee smiles at him, like the old turtle he was, and sat down, waiting for him to speak

The old turtle seemed frail and sweet but he remembered being a child with him. It was all a play

Which makes him perfect for this project, he guess

So, let's convince the parents he knew what he was doing and what he was talking about despite never producing any school play

It went fairly well for the most of it

Every time he met Hoseok's stare, the other man was smiling, and that made him feel both excited and incredibly shy

But mostly gives him enough confidence at least finish the presentation of the general idea

When parents asked questions - price, time needed, how the parts would have been distributed - he tries to be as clear as he can

And hopes nobody will actually spot how much he still doesn't know

Eventually, the questions are over and the meeting is too, with a copy of the project to take home and a promise to see each other as soon as possible

Tae was putting in order his papers, trying carefully to not perceive either Hoseok nor Namjoon, but of course karma hates him

So a few of his pages fly down the desk, right in front of. Well. Of course Hoseok. Who else

It's not like he could have the worst face in the history of faces and just have his life passing by

No, he had to live his 5-hours-sleep-10-hours-work while wearing his most anonymous clothes and have something less of a Idol staring at his face

Wait

He was staring

He said something

He said absolutely something and Tae was just too far away in his head to hear anything oh my--

"everything alright?" Hoseok asked, and the question clearly triggered Namjoon attention, because he came close too

"ye-what-ye sure. I'm sorry, I must be a bit tired. Hi, Namjoon-ah"

Hoseok smiles at him, but Taehyung makes a weird face at the other man

Well, they clearly knew each other enough to drop some honorifics

Probably wasn't the first time Namjoon came instead of his parents to school stuff like this, Hoseok always knew he was a good big brother

"You did great" the young man says, to which Taehyung smiles a little. Namjoon walks over them but doesn't stop, heading towards the door

"I gotta go now, Hoseok-ssi, see you Tuesday. Tae, see you around"

"Watch your steps" both Tae and Hoseok say, which surprised them, but proved them right when Namjoon bumped into a desk

Then it was only them. And Tae knew it's gonna be awkward really soon.

"so, how you know him?" He asks. Oh, Jungkook babysitter. Makes sense

"and you?"

Taehyung makes a weird face, half displeasure.

"I'll tell you in the parking lot, I'll feel less irresponsible if I'm not at work"

Hoseok felt he has to decline and go straight home

Also stop asking about the private life of his kid's teacher and babysitter

Because that was none of his business

But he was a nice person and nice people listen to what others have to say, right?

#vhope #vhope au #vope #kim Taehyung #jung Hoseok #kim Namjoon #kim seokjin #park jimin #min yoongi #jeon jeongkook #bts #bts au #teacher/parent au

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years ago

Text

We All Deserve a Fairy Tale Chapter 5

Warnings: Here be smut, my loves. Minors be gone, because it is explicit. First time writing smut, so I hope it works.

Frankie x female blank slate, use of first person. I think there is cursing.

Frankie ghosts you, then something happens to change it…

Thanks to @sharkbait77 and @hnt-escape If you want on my tag list, tell me. :)

I waited a week. A week and a half. And I broke down, finally, and texted.

Got the edits back for my next book. I hate this part.

After a moment, a reply. You got this.

Hope? Maybe? Or was he just being nice?

I responded anyway.

Maybe we can go out and see that movie tonight? Have dinner? A little fun before I chain myself to the computer?

No response.

I waited a day, but my stomach churned the whole time.

I texted again, after getting myself good and wound up. You don’t owe me any explanations. But please respect me enough not to ghost me. You’re not interested in me, that’s fine. But don’t leave me dangling. You’re better than that.

I hit send, regretted it immediately.

Your right. What’s your address?

“Shit. Shit. What have I done?” I whispered as I typed it to him.

About five away. K?

Yeah. Thanks.

I ran back inside the house and straightened myself up. Military minutes must be shorter than civilian minutes because I heard him pull up sooner than I was ready.

I went outside, to the back yard. I waved at him, half heartedly. He shoved his hands in his pockets and came over.

“Hey.” He gave me a soft smile. Everything about him was guarded. OK. Well, I asked him to come over and officially tell me to take a hike, so, I guess I deserved it.

“Frankie, I…”

“No. I, uh.” He looked at the ground between our feet. It was more dirt than grass. “Man, you weren’t kidding about this place being a wasteland.”

I laughed despite the rock in my gut.

He looked up at me, a little sideways. “Let me say my piece and go, OK?”

I hugged myself, and nodded.

“I like you.” He said so quietly that I had to lean closer to hear him. “Like you more than I’ve liked anyone for a long time. And I mean that. But wanting you in my life doesn’t mean I get to. I’ve killed — “

I started to object, say something about the army and of course he did and he did what he had to…

He saw it and said, firmly, “No.”

I closed my mouth and he nodded. “No. I’m talking about��less than a year ago. Some friends and I went on a mission. We said it was to help stop a major drug dealer but it was just…” He’s breathing a little heavier, now. Unable to look at me, rubbing the palms of his hands on his thighs.

“People died.” He looks at me, then, the anguish in his eyes, the guilt. “My own fucking actions lead to one of my best friends getting killed. If I hadn’t taken that shot. If I hadn’t wrecked the fucking chopper…”

He steps forward and takes my hands in his. They’re clammy, shaking. “The mail you saw, it was a reminder. My friend’s widow, she’s angry and looking for answers and she doesn’t want any of us to be happy. And she’s right.”

I try to find words. I feel like I’m in a cave in, trying to scramble over rocks and debris.

“I don’t deserve to be happy, and I don’t deserve you.” He touches my cheek for a second, a butterfly landing and running away. “I’m gonna go now, I’m gonna block your number.”

He kisses me. His lips are hot. When he steps back, I say, “So you’re not going to give me a choice?”

“Why would you want one?” His voice is incredulous. There’s an echo, under his words, I can see it in his eyes, in the frustrated way he throws his hands out. Why would you want me?

I shook my head. “You say you like me, but you want to close yourself off? Not give me a chance to get to know you, help you if I can?”

“It’s for the best. You see that, right?” There’s a desperate edge.

I shake my head. Everything that can possibly hurt does. I’m supposed to be so good at words, and I can’t find the right ones, the ones to reel him back in.

He adjusts his hat. “No, you don’t. I love your books, but they are fairy tales. You can’t make a good man out of a monster. It’s not how the world works.”

“You’re not a monster.”

He’s all twitchiness now, looking at his truck, desperate to get out of this situation. It makes me mad, how badly he wants to go. How I know I can’t fix this. “Don’t bother blocking my number.” I say, as I turn on my heel. “I won’t bother you again.”

He whispers my name and it is so pained that I almost turn around. But I don’t.

***

I don’t block his number. I can’t. I focus on work. My job that lets me eat work. My book. My hands shake on the keyboard, sometimes, as I try to make the story mine again. It’s hard to write a love story, even one with murder and mystery, when your own heart is broken.

It was ridiculous. I didn’t even know him that long, but the loss of him hurt. It made the story feel pointless. What right did I have to sell these lies? To make people believe in love and romance and happily ever after when you can meet someone so amazing and wonderful, and have to watch him walk away?

I kept working. I’d get over it. I had to. It’s not like I’d built anything with him. I was just aching for the possibilities — the things I tortured myself about. The things I imagined I m might have lost, with Frankie.

And damn it, I missed him.

But life continues. And sink faucets wear out, making you have to run to the local home improvement store, wandering the isles with an armload of new faucet, fittings, plumbers tape and everything else the YouTube videos I’d consulted said I would need.

The universe has decided that I have not suffered enough, because I can see him, Frankie Morales in the flesh, frowning at the back of a box like its his greatest enemy. He was in the home security section.

I could sneak by. He was way too interested in what he was holding in those lovely, large hands of his. I dashed by, head down, determined to just get past him, but some lady with a cart pushed past me at the same time, and my arm load of stuff got jostled. I was able to save the most expensive bit — the faucet in its box, the long flexible connection thingies — but the plumbers tape, in its plastic hard shell donut jumped out, fell onto the floor, and rolled right over to a well worn work boot. Spun like a top. Settled right against his toe. I looked up, too nervous to enjoy the view (much) and right into his eyes. His lips were parted, like he was a little surprised to see me.

“Hey.” I said, and then, because I didn’t know what else to do, I turned and fled back the way I came. I knew where the plumbers tape was, I could just go get another…

“Hey. Wait a second.”

I stopped, took a breath, smiled like everything was perfectly normal.

He held up the white plastic Judas. “Um…your faucet break?” And then he winced. “I mean, obviously. Um.” He placed the tape on top of my pile delicately. He was holding a box in both hands tight enough to warp the cardboard.

“It’s old. I thought I would try my hand at replacing it…can’t be that hard.”

“No, but plumbing can be really picky if you’ve never done it…”

“Don’t offer.” I whisper it desperately, before I can even think about it. I can tell he’s working himself up to it, and the thought of him in my house is like a punch ion the guts.

“It wouldn’t be a problem.” His dark eyes study my face. Sad. A little desperate. For a second I think, maybe he misses me, too.

“No. I got it.” I say softly, looking at the floor again.

“Do you still have my number? If you change your mind?”

I nod at the container. “Go back to your project, Frankie. I can handle this on my own.”

Did you know, plumbing is an utter bitch?

Throw in some more curse words in the last sentence. I certainly used every one I could.

Two hours later, I get a text.

Frankie: How did it go?

I want to sob. Instead, I put myself together and write a fairly moderate response:

Me: I have decided that I will now do my dishes in the bathroom sink. Who needs a sink in the kitchen? A total waste.

Frankie: The offer is still open?

Me: How did you know? Did you just look at me and think, she is too inept to be able to do this herself?

Frankie: No. I don’t think that at all.

Frankie: Let me help? Please?

Me: Since you said please, I guess I can allow you to come rescue me.

Frankie: OMW.

I looked at the time, and decided to order pizza. It was only fair.

Twenty minutes later he’s under the sink. “You did a good job. I think maybe you just cross threaded it…”

“Oh, no…did I ruin the threads?”

“It’s probably OK. I’ll just use a lot of tape…”

And he does some magical things with a wrench and the bright pink tape, which he wraps around the threads to make them more water tight. I try not to admire his long legs or the rest of him, spread out on my kitchen floor, as he half lays in the bottom of the sink.

The doorbell rings, and I go pay for the pizza, and when I come back he’s turned on the water, and he’s kneeing in front of the open sink bottom, using a paper towel to see if he can find any leaks.

“It looks OK?” I ask tentatively.

“Yep…you really did have it done mostly. Just that one spot.”

“Thanks,” I say awkwardly. “I bought us dinner?”

“You are awesome.” He does a quick but of clean up so he can shut the sink doors and washes his hands in the newly repaired sink. He tosses his hat onto the end of the island, and I want to run my fingers through his hair. He does it for me, absentmindedly pushing the hair off his forehead.

We sit on either side of my kitchen island, sharing pizza. I don’t know what to say.

“It’s a nice apartment.” He said quietly, picking up another slice.

“It’s cheap, not far from my day job. It works.” I shove a hunk of crust in my mouth to stop myself from saying anything else. I knew this would be bad. Here he is, sitting a few inches away. I could touch him, but I’m not allowed. It’s a rotten feeling, wanting something and not being allowed to have it. To feel his fingers wrap around mine. To have that easy, happy camaraderie again.

“What are you thinking?” I ask, when the silence gets too much.

He shakes his head. Wads up his napkin. Puts his plate in the sink. Locates the trash. Such a good guest.

“I shouldn’t have come. But I wanted to see you.” He said this quietly, as if he isn’t sure he should admit it.

“Well, if you hadn’t, I’d still be under the sink wondering why the damned fittings are still leaking.”

He gives me a gentle smile. “You would have been ok.”

“Lucky I didn’t block your number, huh?”

He smiles and kneels down, picking up tools and putting them back in the box. Sorting his from mine.

“It was nice of you to come help me? I might be a bit snarky, but I really am grateful for the help.”

“I was happy to. Where do you keep these?” I took my tools off him, put them and the plumber’s tape in my tool drawer.

“But why? Why were you happy to help? Why did you want to see me? You couldn’t leave here quickly enough the other day…” I smile to take the sting out. “Not that I blame you, the yard is a hot mess.”

He touches my face gently. “Hush.” I stop my babbling, lean into his touch.

“You asked me a question, awhile back.” I muzzle his hand. “I never got to answer it.”

“What was that?”

“You asked me if I wanted you. And I do. Very much.”

He made a huffing sound, as if he had been gut punched, and then, slowly, slowly, leaned in and kissed me. “I miss you,”. He whispers between kisses, his hands framing my face like I’m a delicate thing. “I miss you when I wake up. I miss you when I lay down to sleep. I miss you when I’m driving.” And each sentence he punctuates, gently, with a kiss, to my forehead, to my nose, to my mouth. “I barely know you, but you are already woven into my thoughts…”

I’m holding him tight, kissing him back. I bump my nose against his, sweetly, and I saw, “Then why? Why stay away?”

He pulls back as far as I’ll let him, sits down again. I see the ghosts in his eyes again, and I remember the lyrics from a song I used to love, “There’s ghosts in your eyes, they cry when you smile…”

“I shouldn’t have come…I’m a train wreck waiting to happen.”

“No, not if you’re just going to push me away again. That’s cruel. I never thought you’d be cruel, Francisco Morales.”

He winces like I punched him.

“If it’s too soon to tell me, that’s fine. Just push it aside until you trust me. Or until it matters. I don’t care about your past, what you’ve done. I know you well enough to know you did what you had to do at the time.” I give in to the longing to touch him, I run my fingers lightly through the curls at his temple before letting my hand drop. He’s watching me like a landmine he’s stepped on. His fingers ghost over my hips. Grip them gently. Pulls me between his thighs. Now it’s my turn to be wary, as he pulls me close. His dark, liquid eyes study my face, I can almost hear him weighing and sorting. Lay your secrets on me, beautiful man. I want to tell him. But I wait. I wait until his large hands encompass me, run over my waist, the softness over my ribs, glide up the sides of my breasts so softly I am not even sure he touched me, to cup my face.

“I want to be who you think I am,” he says, and I smile gently.

A decision is made, in those fathomless eyes. And he leans close, and he kisses me again. The last kisses were loving. This kiss is passionate. Deep. So full of longing I could cry. I let my lips part and his tongue traces, licks inside. I make a little sound and grab his wrists, pushing them aside so I can wrap my arms around him, if I could meld myself to him, I would have then, melted inside of him like gold, fixing his cracks.

He stands, the stool scraping against the floor. The sound is jarring, lifts me out of the lust sodden moment. “If you want me, baby, you have me,” he says in that rough honey voice of him. “Show me the way.”

I take one of his hands in both of mine, I kiss each knuckle. I’d been playing with the idea, and now here I was. I could still say no. I could slow things down, I could be sensible.

But I’d never wanted anything so deeply, so profoundly, as I wanted him. Every time I touched his skin, I felt like something lost had been returned to me.

I smiled a little at him, and backed away, pulling him with me. “This way, sweetheart.”

His lips are on mine the second we cross into my bedroom. Once Frankie Morales makes a decision, he is all in. His hand cups the back of my head, holding me so he can kiss me, his tounge sliding against mine as his other hand slips under my shirt. I pull back and tug at his shirt. “Off.” I command, and he grins and sheds it. My shirt and my bra join it on the floor. I press my breasts to the warm smoothness of his chest. I run my hands over his ribs, his stomach, as his mouth claims mine again. His skin is soft and warm, strong muscles flexing under my hands. I kiss along his jawline, I lick and kiss the constellation of freckles on the side of his neck. He moans softly in approval as I nip and kiss my way to his shoulder.

His own hands slip up to my breasts, weighing them in his hands, squeezing gently. He runs his thumb over one nipple, then bends to lick the other into his mouth, sucking gently, his tounge flicking at the hard peak. His freehand is splayed against the small of my back, holding me in place. Pleasure shoots through me, and all I can do is cling to him. He lets me go and pushes me gently. I fall back onto my bed, tearing at the button on my pants, needing to get everything off, needing to feel his skin, his warmth, his strength and softness.

“Condoms?” He asks, one knee on the bed. “I didn’t think…”

I shook my head. “I’m on the pill?”

His eyes darken further, and he asks, “Are you sure?”

I nod and hold out my arms, and he gives me the sweetest smile. He stands up again and undoes his pants, sliding them off, and he’s naked and beautiful and I just want him wrapped around me. He slips into my arms and kisses me again, his arms holding him over me. He gives me a little of his weight, grounding me. It feels so good, skin sliding against skin, warmth against warmth,

His slips a hand between us, and I clench at the thought of him touching me just as he slides two thick fingers between my folds, rubbing my clit gently, exploring me. “So wet.” He whispers, kissing my temple. “So soft.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “So hot.” And his takes my lips again, his fingers rubbing my clit, making me shake with building pleasure. “I want to taste you, sweetheart. I want to make you come on my tounge…can I, baby?”

I nod. I don’t know who can resist that voice, rough with lust and promise? He kisses his way down and I spread my legs wider, and he gently licks — a test lick, from my entrance to my clit. He licks my clit, hard, with short licks before drawing me into his mouth and sucking me. He is fervent, as he works, and I can’t think about anything but the heat of his mouth. As the pressure and pleasure builds, I’m making the most needy sounds, unable to control myself. His slips one finger in, then a second, exploring, touching, then another, stretching and reaching for that spot. The rippling explosion leaves me shamelessly arching into his mouth, crying out his name like a prayer.

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, kissing the inside of my thigh, rubbing his beard against the soft skin.

He comes up to kneel between by thighs. His eyes meet mine as I struggle to compose myself, and his hand gently comes up to very gently lay across my throat, his thumb tracing my chin.

“Are you sure? Where do you want me to come?”

I nod frantically. “Please, baby, I want you. Inside me, please…”

His hand slips away from my throat to rest on the bed above my shoulder, and I miss the warmth of it as he gently strokes my skin, settling his hand on my thigh. He takes his cock into his hand, stroking it before rubbing it against my clit, causing me to whimper. He runs the head of it up and down a few times, his eyes slipped closed, his jaw going slack, that lush lower lip parting. I wish I had a picture…he was beautiful. Skin made gold by the fading light, thighs splayed under mine. I felt the head of his cock in my entrance, and he pressed in, a slow hot stretch until he was sheathed completely.

“Oh, fuck.” He whispered. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

He lowered himself back on top of me. “You feel so huge inside me, baby,” I whisper in his ear. “You feel like heaven. Please…fuck me, honey. Please…” And he started moving, slow at first, the changing the angle and speeding up. With every thrust he pressed against something that felt so good…I was seeing the proverbial stars as he gasped in my ear, making soft sounds of pleasure every time he slammed home. I nipped at his shoulder, and he was looking down at me, dark eyes studying me.

“Frankie, I…I can’t think, I don’t know what to do…”

“Don’t think. Just let me take care of you. It’s all I want to do…” He captures my mouth in a sloppy kiss. “Just let go.”

And I do. I cry out his name as he continues to move, the friction making my high last. He speeds up, and I cup his face in shaking hands.

“You’re so beautiful. I want to feel you come, Frankie, honey, come for me.”

He moved to kiss the palm of my hand, then his eyes squeeze shut as he finds his own release. I can feel it, spilling hot inside of me. I welcome him as he lowers himself down completely, unable to stay up on his forearms any longer. He tried to shift off, but I cling to him. I welcome his weight. His strength.

I don’t want to let go. I never want to let him go.

#frankie morales x reader #Frankie Morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #SMUT #My Fic

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margarethelstone-2 · 3 years ago

Text

if I loved you less (i might talk about it more)

requested by one and only @nerdypanda3126. thanks so much!

Read on AO3!

"Taichi... You still like me, don't you?"

The young man in question raised his eyes from the book he'd been trying to read for the past quarter, and fixed them on Chihaya, confused. It wasn't just the question that surprised him, even though its content sure would have been enough to puzzle a better prepared soul.

The fact that Chihaya had barely spoken at all for most of their time together today was the main reason why he felt startled by her words now.

She really had been quiet for most of the day, even though they were spending it at his place, determined, as she herself had claimed, not to get in the way of his studies. Taichi had tried to make her realise that it wasn't what he wanted at all, that the very reason he'd invited her over was to get a break from all the reading and just relax a little. He'd explained over and over again that he needed her to be a distraction; tried – unsuccessfully – to get it into her head that she was actually doing him a favour. He knew how much of a workaholic he could be and so he specifically planned the visit as a means to enforce the necessary break he might not have taken otherwise.

He had told her all of that. And yet, she'd remained quiet.

All the way until now, that is.

And just what on earth was she going on about?

"What's with that question? You know the answer to that," he replied casually, almost dismissively, before going back to the textbook in his hand. He really had no idea what had gotten into her all of the sudden, but then again, he didn't care to delve on the subject. He knew she'd tell him anyway.

"I was just wondering," she answered, a trace of hurt ringing in her voice; Taichi needed to hold back the smile that sprang on his lips at the sight of her pout. "Is it so bad if I do?"

Taichi hummed in thought.

"Is that why you've been so quiet all day?" he asked right after. "You've been just busy considering my possible affection for you?"

"Stop with the mockery. I'm thinking of it seriously."

"Oh? And what conclusions did you come to?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I'd come to any."

He had no choice but to close the book and put it away after a statement he'd just heard. Not that he minded. Throwing it on the floor rather carelessly, he sat up straight in his corner of the couch and, resting his chin on his palm, he fixed his gaze on the girl seated by his desk on the other side of the room.

She really was being impossible today.

Well, he supposed that wasn't anything new. He'd known Chihaya long and well enough to not be fazed by the swings in her mood or the inane schemes she so often came up with. He had learnt to expect the unexpected, every day, every hour of his otherwise boring life, because that was obviously the only way to keep up with her. The one thing he had to keep doing if he still wanted to be a part of her life.

Because that was how Ayase Chihaya was.

Chihaya. His best friend. His fiercest karuta rival. The girl he'd been in love with since fourth grade of primary school and the girl who'd rejected him straightforwardly at the very beginning of their third year in Mizusawa High. The girl whom he'd thought he could never win over, on whom he'd given up again and again, fooling himself he could move on and blight the love he'd had for her since he'd been a ten year old squirt.

He sighed and shook his head, remembering her question from a moment before.

She knew damn well he was still head over heels for her.

She was his girlfriend, for sanity's sake.

"I can't believe you actually have asked, you know," he picked up with the same fake weariness he'd shown before, if only to cover his growing amusement. Seeing her very real anxiety made him assume a more solemn expression, as he asked, "Seriously, what brought this on? Are you mad about something?"

"I'm not mad," she disagreed instantly, and with good emphasis.

"Are you unhappy then? Did I do something to make you feel like that?"

Again, she denied. Now she just looked sad. "That's not it."

Wrong. She was flustered.

"Then what is it?" Taichi asked, as gently and warmly as he could. Not for the first time, he felt grateful for all the hard training his patience had received. It was obvious that Chihaya needed that from him now. "It's not like I could get over you like this, you of all people should be aware of that. You're the most important person in my life. The best companion I could think of. You know I get lonely and grumpy when I can't see you, and you know I still get absurdly jealous, even though I hate being so. And so I can't help but think there's something else I'm not doing right."

Taichi stopped there, waiting for her to, if not answer his question, then to contradict him in one way or another, at least. After all, he really was at a loss.

He thought he'd been doing a fairly good job as a boyfriend, when all was said and done. He'd already shared Chihaya's most important interest and it wasn't difficult to at least understand the new ones she'd found. He made sure to be there for her when she needed him, and tried his best to give her space when she needed that more. True, he'd had some trouble coming for help on his part, but even that was a thing of a past rather than present – certainly not something that could shock Chihaya into thinking like this.

He would think that the all-day-long date he'd come up with and seen through in celebration of their first anniversary as a couple last week was a good show of how much he still cared.

He wasn't perfect. Neither was she. But never in his life would he have thought that he'd failed to get his feelings across.

"Chihaya," he prompted once more, his voice audibly quieter. "Please tell me what it is. I can't fix it if I don't know what's broken."

She looked up from the floor she'd been glaring at for a while and met his gaze, a shadow of unease still clouding her big brown eyes. She opened her mouth to answer; she closed it instantly and looked away again, abashed. There was a hint of pink on her cheeks, and it only grew darker as the time passed, though whether it was because of embarrassment or something more alarming, Taichi couldn't tell yet.

"Chihaya–"

"It's because you never say it."

He supposed his eyes opened wider than ever, what's with the utter astonishment he felt growing inside him immediately. For a few moments, he could do nothing but stare, the craziness of the situation overwhelming enough to successfully prevent him from forming a sensible thought, and much less coming up with any kind of solution. One look at Chihaya was enough to sober him up, however.

She was distressed. She was insecure.

No matter how stupid he thought the reason to be, he could hardly allow the situation to last.

With a groan that was bound to startle her, he bent over and buried his face in his hands.

Only one thing he could do now.

"Come here," he said, his face still hidden behind one hand as he tore the other one away and beckoned her towards him. "No excuses. You'll talk later. Now just come here, please."

She did, albeit tentatively, as if afraid of the reaction he might show her. With his patience starting to run thin at last, Taichi didn't wait for her to cover the whole distance, instead reaching out and grabbing her by the wrist, only to pull her down on the couch right next to him.

And then he pulled her even closer, locking her in a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm gonna do something to you," he mumbled into her hair, his voice a mixture of laughter and complaint. "You cruel, cruel, woman. Have you no heart? Here I am, mind reeling as I try to figure out what the hell I did wrong again and you say it's because I don't say I like you enough. As if you didn't already know you've got a firmer hold of my heart than I ever did. Tell me, am I really this bad at showing you that I care that you doubt it?"

It was Chihaya's turn to growl at him, though it surely – and fortunately – didn't stop her from burying her face even deeper into his chest and digging her fingers into the shirt on his back. Again, Taichi laughed at the display, but didn't loosen his grip one bit.

That silly, unbelievable, most beloved girl.

"This and that are different things," she muttered finally in response against his buttons, her stubborn indignation probably being the only reason why he could discern the words at all. "There are different kinds of love languages. We even talked about it, you know."

"Yes. And as far as I remember, we've already established that neither of us cared for this one. So your argument doesn't work."

Well, this was a lie, or at least, it wasn’t fully true. After all, he could never get tired of hearing her say those words, to him and him only. But he didn't need it that much, not when he already knew of so many other ways in which Chihaya expressed her love towards him. He'd always assumed it was the same for her, too.

Funnily enough, he still didn't think he was mistaken.

"I've had feelings for you for the past fourteen years, you dummy, I wouldn't change my mind just because you decided to return them," he threw in only half-jokingly, as if to make sure he got his point across before moving onto the next part. "So? Care to tell me what's the source of it all?"

He felt her tense against him for a split second, only to relax in the next moment with a long, weary sigh. He waited for her to make herself comfortable in his arms, shifting ever so slightly to make it easier for them both. And then he heard her speak.

"I met up with Kana-chan the other day," she admitted weakly. "Her and Desktomu. And I guess... They're always so sweet with one another, now more than ever. I suppose... It made me feel a little jealous. But most of all, it just made me think."

"And you decided that I'd fallen out of love with you, because I don't talk like Komano does?"

"I didn't decide anything, I told you already. I just wondered if maybe I was doing something wrong to deserve that treatment. Sorry for being so terribly scared of losing you again because of my own foolishness."

Words caught in his throat as Taichi tried to protest against this new development. That last addition Chihaya had made – and more importantly, the wounded, truly uncertain voice with which she'd spoken – would have been enough to melt his heart even if he had actually been angry with her. Right now, he had to hold back from grabbing her by the chin and kissing her senseless until all the idiotic ideas evaporated from her overworked mind.

The things she did to him without as much as trying.

You evil little imp.

"They're newly-weds. You can't use them for reference," he managed to stutter out at least, conveniently ignoring the hoarseness of his own voice and the emotion that hovered behind it. "Not to mention, those two are the opposite of us when it comes to talking about feelings openly. There's a reason they got together six years before we did. Just because something works for them doesn't mean it's the best course for us to take as well."

He smiled again and planted a kiss at the top of her hair, before adding, "I still can't believe you really doubted me, though."

She huffed and pulled away, although she still didn't move from her place on the couch. They were still close; close enough for Taichi to see the light reflecting in her eyes and the blush that hadn't left her cheeks, and to reach out and comb her tangled hair with his fingers. Another gesture so full of love, even though it was but a fraction of all that she made him feel.

"Well, since I never understood what had made you fall in love with me in the first place, it's only natural that I'd have this kind of doubts."

He chuckled and she smiled on her part, her obstinacy giving it to the desire to just be with him. It was another thing Taichi was able to read in her eyes – and, knowing the feeling well enough from his own experience, he had no trouble deciphering it.

Delayed, the first part of her sentence entered his brain.

What made me fall for you, I wonder?

He didn't know. It had been so long since he’d realised his feelings after all, and longer still since those feelings had been born. Even all those years earlier, he probably wouldn’t have been able to point out the reasons clearly, never mind finding the one spark that had started it – trying to do so now seemed downright impossible.

There were so many reasons, after all.

Maybe it was because she had never considered herself a possible love interest for anyone, first when she was too engrossed in karuta and later, when she thought she didn't deserve to be one. Maybe it was her hot-headedness and her drive, and how different she'd always been from him, and yet never failed to tell him how much she'd admired and envied those qualities of his that she lacked.

Maybe it was the fact that she'd always been with him, so close and so dear and yet so impossible to grasp.

Maybe it was because she'd loved him long before either of them dared believe that was the case.

Maybe...

"Maybe," he said out loud, though in fact not loud at all, his lips moving against her forehead as he leaned in to put a kiss there, too. "Maybe, if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more."

Edging away, Taichi saw tears gathering in her eyes. He wiped them away with his thumb, his hand cupping the side of her jaw fittingly.

And then he kissed her properly.

Just like he had wanted to ever since he'd first seen her that day.

#one-shot request #chihayafuru #taichihaya #mashima taichi #ayase chihaya #margaretwrites

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wild-at-mind · 2 years ago

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Random thought I had but I kind of do sympathise with people who find adult novels offputting and hard to choose, and say this when they talk about preferring to read YA. ‘Adult books are just full of divorces and sad men’ or whatever they say. I remember feeling exactly that way when I was late teens early 20s, and I get that it only takes one bad novel to really put you off. Mine was A Spot of Bother by Mark Haddon, I chose it because he also wrote Curious Case of the Dog in the Nighttime (bit of a red flag to me now as I’ve reevaluated that book very much, but at the time it was still considered accurate and fairly groundbreaking). An early event in A Spot of Bother is a middle aged man who sees an odd mole on his back and thinks he has skin cancer, hence the title. Instead of having it looked at medically he becomes convinced he is going to die and spirals mentally. I’ve always had a lot of health anxiety, and in my late teens I lacked the perspective to realise that we are supposed to think his reaction of counting himself dead immediately before he even knows if it’s cancerous is very over the top and suggests underlying mental health problems, and his decision to not go to the doctor is very unwise. (FYI it’s set in the UK so no medical bills.) So that was a bad start, it had me all like ‘oh no I hope I never get a skin mole or it will be an instant death sentence!’ Another thing was it was just a very gross book (as was Curious Incident actually)- someone’s kid has diarrhea and you will hear all about it descriptively, gross health stuff is described relating to the main character and his fears, etc. If there is something gross we will hear about it, to the point of gratuity. There is also just a general depressing, hopeless feel to Haddon’s novels, which I found utterly miserable. I didn’t have much to compare this book to at the time so I just assumed all adult novels were like that and it really put me off them for a while. Key thing is: all adult novels are not like that, this is actually a stylistic choice on the part of Mark Haddon, and it turns out that I just don’t like that particular style. I eventually learned that novels for adults can be beautiful, compelling, sensitive, thought provoking, impactful, basically anything there is. I think choosing novels for yourself is hard when you start out so I would recommend one of the many novel rec lists on tumblr or around the web, there is no shortage of guidance to find a book you will love. I’m very lucky to have a sister who reads everything and gives me books she thinks I will love for my birthday, she hasn’t been wrong yet and has given me some of my favourite books like this. (Who knew that instead of reading about skin lesions and shit I could have been reading about the most delicious pork dish ever with Banana Yoshimoto?) But not everyone is lucky and has someone close to hand who is great at recs. Luckily there are people online who will happily help you. Happy reading and hope you find something wonderful!

#reading #novels #bookblr

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demonologistfucker · 3 years ago

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WIP Angel MC! x Obey Me pt 2

Part Two - The Museum date with Satan. This is just a ruff of what I got so far. I am enjoying this but i Haven’t had a lot of focus for writing. So I just wanna share what I got so far.

Step into the shoes of an intellectual. I know they are uncomfortable, but these are cushioned with a bias outside human prejudice. They have their own prejudices of course, it’s just not As silly as a humans…. Either way, it’s a different way of looking at history. There is no need to keep colonial powers looking refined and noble.

This museum is not full of anything Real. They are all magical replicas of artifacts long burned, brutalized and forgotten. While it could be enlightening to a great deal of humanity. The plaques mainly speak of the demons who worked along with those doing the burning. It left a rather sick feeling in the angel’s stomach. While showing off the great wonder that was ruined. People still boasted about causing the burning.

Satan did a better job explaining the history. He was detached. Thinking about the matter as a history, and could talk about it easily. Yet when he turned to MC. They had tears in their eyes. Thinking of what it felt like to just be a people, and slaughtered for living. The Angel felt the reality. Both marveling at the people who could create such art and monuments, and the utter despair at how this art came to the Angel’s eyes. So Eventually the Angel started to tune out the world around them, and focused more on their guide. A stranger who was still linked arms with MC.

“I have a question,” MC looks up into Satan’s eyes.

“I might have an answer,” The corner of Satan’s mouth pulled into a sharp smile.

“Do you view angels and demons as enemies?” MC watches Satan’s face closely. His eyebrows shot up for only a second. A brief flash of surprise, and then quickly to thought. His gaze drifting upwards as he rolled the matter over in his mind.

“I think about this a lot, actually,” Satan rubs his chin. “I’m unsure. We are certainly told that we are opposites, but if we looked at the data, I think we’d find something else.” Satan chews on the thought, “There is a whole research of study on whether good even exists, yet there is a realm that claims to obtain All Good. Or define what it is. Which is just ridiculous, and as you can see.” Satan puts a hand on his chest. “Demons are not raging beasts. Sin has its place in reality. Too much of it would be disastrous, true, but not enough would also be a problem.” Satan kept his gaze away from the Angel. Not truly wanting to see them get upset about his stance.

“Can you give me an example?” MC tilts their head. “No one’s talked about sin like that before.”

“Well… Let’s use wrath. Wrath being deemed a sin which is reasonable at first. Being angry and destructive is not helpful. However, wrath has been brought out to protect children, or to fight for justice. Wrath without thought is bad, but it is not bad in itself.” Satan glances at MC to see their expression. Then stays when he sees that MC is thinking it over.

“What matters is how it’s used.” MC says softly. To which Satan nods. “There are plenty of supposedly holy people who are really cruel to keep their virtues.” Now both MC and Satan are sharing a smile. “Some of those people really are the worst. They manage to live up to His standards and yet are still-” MC grits their teeth.

“Bastards? Fuckers?” Satan tries to keep a helpful face, but can’t help the corner of his mouth twitch up.

“Yes!” MC shakes their head to let out some frustration. “Then they summon me to bring them to the bathhouse.”

“You have to bring humans to bathhouses?”

“Where ever they want to go. It is their ‘paradise’ after all, and since I’m not a high ranking angel, so I’m basically supposed to care take for whatever human souls are around me.”

“That sounds… Infuriating.” Satan says politely. He’s overjoyed to see the Angel seething with annoyance, but then something drowns it out. Their face falls and goes back to a placid expression.

“It’s the duty of an angel.” MC’s voice is dryer than before.

“Hmm…” Satan realizes he shouldn’t be staring at the Angel and looks back to whatever exhibit they had landed in front of. “Do you like your duties?”

“Do you like yours?” The Angel looks blankly ahead.

“Ours are very different. I simply Am the avatar. I can spend my days reading and be finishing my duty.”

“Really?” MC looks up in surprises.

“Well, sorta of,” Satan chuckles. “I have RAD duties I can’t get out of, But that’s my choice in the end. I respect Diavolo enough to agree to his leadership, and RAD is his domain, so I do it for him.” Satan shrugs. “They don’t take up too much time for an immortal anyways.”

“That’s… so different from Heaven. I get maybe five hours to myself a day?” MC can’t even give an accurate number. Keeping track just makes it worse. “It’s all preselected work, too. We have no choice it what domains we’re put under.”

“No choice at all?”

“Supposedly it’s from the Divine plan,” MC rolls their eyes. “But I’m unsure of it.”

“No plan is ever perfect, let alone one made from one mind alone.” Even as Satan says this, he is prepared for a fight. His few conversations with angel’s before him had always ended in one. Angels devoted their existences to this divine plan. Critiquing it was a critique of everything they stood for. Instead, MC just nods. Their eyes overwhelmed in sadness. So Satan takes a deep breath and refocuses on the world around them.

“It is amazing what humans are able to turn rocks into,” Satan looks at the old stone statue with amazement.

“I’ve tried to do it before, and I can never manage.” MC tapped their chin as they reminisced. “They can make rock smooth, as if they were just pinching clay.”

“I can’t even work clay well.” Satan chuckles. Then there is silence as MC’s mind wanders down a bunny trail.

“Earlier they said that I would be attending school, is that true?” Satan nods. “Weird,” MC begins to laugh.

“Why do you laugh? I will also be attending.” Satan says this even though he finds the whole school situation fairly fun himself. Still remembers the dinner when Lucifer broke the news that joining RAD also meant having to go through university again. They had completed their courses millennia ago. Satan was honestly a little excited. Brushing up his skills wouldn’t be the worst time. Though, all the other students sounded rather stressful.

“It will be curious. I didn’t expect to be introduced to Hell this way. It’s just… Okay, you’ll understand if I tell you how I imagine this, Exchange, would go in the Celestial realm.” Satan nods and leans back. Ready to listen. “Greeted with trumpets, obviously.” Satan rolls his eyes. “Then a personal conversation with It.” This makes Satan chuckle. “Then guided around the Celestial realm to all its numerous wonders. Shown the polished paradise where you can indulge in Nearly anything.” MC lifts a finger up with a crooked grin. “Though, you Can’t be a sinner, so you must be nice to Everyone you meet. No matter how annoying. If an Issue arises, you have to bring it up at court, and have it processed. It’s worse for angels, but guests wouldn’t see that. It would take months to see the court bit anyway. It would all be Sickly sweet.”

“And here you met a busy prince, told you had to go to school, and left to get eaten.” Satan keeps his head forward, but glances to see the angel’s reaction.

“I’m enjoying it a lot.” MC smiles.

“Not worried about your safety?”

“Not Much,” MC Shrugs. “I don’t think I’ll be totally helpless,” Then MC looks to Satan’s face. Which seems to loudly be saying ‘okay, tell yourself that sweetheart’. “Do you think I should worry?”

“I think it was wise that you asked for a guide,”

“Me to,” MC smiled, “I like your company.” MC pulls the hand they have clasped with Satan’s closer. For a moment, holding Satan against them. Letting their wing brush against his back. Then MC eases back. Failing to hide a blush that ran across their face. “ Just don’t imagine me helpless.”

“I could never.” Satan smiles softly. “I am the Avatar of wrath after all, and as I can tell.” He looks down at his open hand. Pretending to hold a board. “You have indulged in my sin at least six times.” A humorously low number for Satan. The average human indulged in it at least 50 times by their first birthday. That’s for a remarkably well tempered child, too.

“That high?” MC winces, but then straightens their spines. Remember Why that had indulged, and feeling proud of that choice.

“That is very low, and I think it would be good for your health to indulge in it a little more.”

“Is this how you became friends with Alexander?”

“It’s how I became much more than friends, Dear.” Satan puts a hand on his chest. Looking utterly too proud of himself. MC grimace only deepened as they felt their face heat up. They are saved by an alert on Satan’s D.D.D. “I am afraid I have dinner soon. Your human roommate will be at purgatory hall for dinner, though. I can walk you back if you like?” Satan looks rather annoyed at his phone, but his face relaxes as he looks at MC.

“That would be nice,” MC smiles and can feel the heat once again rise in their face and chest. “What on your D.D.D made you so upset?”

“Oh, you could see that?” Satan looks rather apologetic.

“Clear as day, man,” MC has to try and not laugh.

“The message came from Lucifer,” Again he says the name with such disgust. MC wants to giggle. “He was reminded I must come to dinner and meet the new human.”

“The face you just made,” MC has to put a hand over their mouth. Thankfully, they were almost out of the museum. But on the way on they got a couple glares from the Serious Observers. “What about this new human is so upsetting?”

“Oh it’s not them,” Satan grimaces, but then straightens his spine.

“Then what is it?”

“The process of picking was idiotic. It took four years for them to finally decided on what three humans to pick. The last one was completely random, it turns out.” Satan takes a deep breath. “I left the project after the first human was picked.”

“Who are they?”

“Solomon.” Satan says with a grimace. Left is a gentle way of putting what Satan did when Solomon was picked. The table was thrown through the wall and Satan marched out through the hole.

“Who?”

“You don’t know? Oh, right… Angel wouldn’t hear about him, I guess.” Satan chews on his lip for a second. “He is an ancient king who managed to get pacts with 72 demons, and accidentally became immortal.” Satan’s has a great number of suspicions about Solomon. There are barely any humans who have One pact with a demon. Yet this human managed to get 72, and immortality. While also maintaining a beloved relationship with a great number of people. To Satan, this reeked of evil in hiding. “He’s also a super powerful wizard and has gone through the university magic program so many times he rewrote a portion of it.”

“So that’s who they picked to show off the magical prowess, huh?”

“It doesn’t even work,” Satan groans. Satan had sat through hours of meetings debating which humans to brings, and how their presence would affect the experience for Other humans in the trip. They fisted wanted a human who had some understanding of the magical to be a grounding force for the other two. Satan had many suggestions of Other magicians who could do a job. Magicians who did have 72 pacts with demons. One of whom being his younger Sibling. “We should have picked a human who could actually use the program. He was a powerful magician before coming to our school. He used it to have fun and meet people.“

“So he’s open to fun?” MC bounces slightly as they walk.

“He can be… but he’s often looking out for himself first.” Since Satan so clearly distrusts Solomon. MC chooses to ignore this, and instead is excited to meet this weird wizard.

“Ah, prioritizing ones own needs. The gift of the ego… that we all have.” MC smirks. Feeling that MC was poking fun at Satan. He bristled and turned a lovely read.

“It’s not just ego,” Satan huffs. “How could he make so many pacts without being devious?”

“I don’t know,” MC shrugs. “Have you asked him?”

“No,” Satan looks aghast. “He’s a cunning being, I can’t just ask him.”

“I’ve heard cunning humans can be the most fun,” MC is now starting to walk back to campus with a little more speed.

“Who would say that?” Satan looks bewildered at the little angel.

“Simeon,” MC says, unbothered by Satan’s judgement.

“He enjoys Lucifer’s company, I would not blindly trust Simeon’s taste.” Satan’s lip curls upward when he mentions Lucifer. MC thought on the matter. Simeon had given Lucifer a hug. When it was rather clear that Lucifer was Not a hugger.

“Do you know if Simeon and Lucifer know each other? I’ve never heard Simeon talk about him, but it’s also frowned upon to talk about him in general.”

“I wouldn’t know, but Lucifer did spend the most time in heaven out of all of us,”

“Ah, who’s Us?”

“Oh my brothers,” Satan sighs, “They might know if Simeon and Lucifer have a history, but I won’t be asking for you.”

“That’s fair,” MC nods.

“Do they not talk about the revolution in the celestial realm?”

“Only brief mention. He doesn’t like it being brought up so… most just avoid the topic. I really don’t know much about it.”

“Hmm,” Satan frowns. He didn’t want to strike Lucifer’s ego, but what he did is important history. “I might have some history books you could borrow if you’d like.” It was strange being confronted with the Angel’s reality. Satan couldn’t imagine a life without living in the shadow of that revolution. His exists was born from its grief and agony, and this Angel knew of it only in passing. Did that mean they didn’t know his history at all?

“Oh, that would be nice, but” The Angel blushes and closes their eyes.” I’m not the best of readers. My eyes get distracted?”

“I have heard of conditions similar to that,” Satan nods, “Well the topic is a heavy one, but if you wanted I could explain our side of the history some time.” They were now walking down the path to Purgatory hall. Satan felt is stomach dip at the thought of leaving. Next would be a dinner of more polite conversation. With the chance, he’d be living with two new assholes now. “If you wanted I could put my contact in your D.D.D. That way we can schedule, and If you need a guide again-” His words faltered as the blush becomes too hot.

“I would like that very much.” MC Smiles and hands over their D.D.D.

“Oh-” Satan just finished it with a smile, and then takes the D.D.D. With thin fingers he types it all in. “I do have a schedule, so I can’t be your guide always but,” Satan looks into the Angel’s eyes, and feels his heart get stuck in his throat. “Don’t be afraid to ask.”

“I definitely won’t,” MC says, even though their heart was starting to race. MC stumbled as they hit the first steps up into Purgatory hall. “Thank you for taking me around.” MC’s wings flutter slightly, trying to dispel anxiety. “It was really nice getting to know you.”

“It was truly a pleasure,” Satan smiles, and then bows low to the Angel. As he rises, he keeps his eyes steady with MC’s gaze. There is a heartbeat where they are both caught staring at each other. Satan should be going home now, and the Angel should be heading inside. Instead, they both linger. Feeling their hearts surging in their chests, and wondering what they can possibly do about it. “I hope you enjoy your dinner,” Satan regrets the words instantly, but his feet are already moving to walk away.

“You to!” The Angel blurts, feeling horribly awkward, but also thrilled. The nerves of wanting to make a good impression. As they watched the elegant blond walk away. MC could still feel excitement brewing within them.

The feeling lingered as MC walked into the main doors of Purgatory Hall. Already they could feel that something was different within the building. A new presence shifted the home's energy. The air now had the smell of a laboratory. MC wandered down the hall till they reached the kitchen. Which is where they found Simeon, Luke, and a stranger gathered around the Oven. The Stranger was tall with bright white hair. The light in his eyes was unmistakably human, but something was off.

“Are you certain it’s supposed to look like that?” Simeon squinted at the Oven.

“I have never done this before,” The Strange says easily, but both Simeon and Luke look utterly terrified.

“What’s going on?” MC asks as they walk behind Luke to get a view of what’s going on. “Why is it...cracked?”

“I believe that’s a part of the baking process,” The stranger smiles warmly and then extend a hand to MC. “My name’s Solomon, I am the human exchange student who will be living with you three.”

“I’m MC,” They take Solomon’s hand. His hand is surprisingly dense and cold. Heavier than the Angel had expected. “I thought there were three humans?”

“Indeed, but the other humans get to live with the brothers.” Solomon sighs. “I still don’t understand why they get to be close to the princes of Hell and not me.” Solomon actually did have a guess why, but he wanted to pout about it.

“Do you want to hear Lucifer and Mammon fighting with each other all the time?” Simeon chuckles.

“That’s a fair point,” Solomon nods. “Not to seem like I’m complaining about being with you three,” MC hadn’t even considered that Solomon might not be happy to be staying with three angels. Now though they had to think about it. A man with 72 pacts with demons might not have the most favorable opinion of angels. MC couldn’t exactly blame him for this, but hoped it wouldn’t get in their way.

“I think our company is much better than those demons,” Luke tilts up his chin given everyone a good look of his nostrils.

“Not better,” Simeon tuts, “we our own kind of fun, and will still have plenty of time with the brothers if we choose.”

“You like them?” Solomon eyes Simeon.

“Yes,” Simeon smiles genuinely. “I am really happy to see them again.” Solomon nods, and then smiles himself.

“Me too,”

#wip #angel!mc #obey me #obey me satan #my writing

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tacticmave · 3 years ago

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Thank you (short fic - Jemily)

emily coming to check on jj after she’s been acting weird during the suicide case (S5x13)

I watched this episode recently and it gave me ideas for how Emily would react. Not my best work, but it's short and fluffy so enjoy it.

Tw: talk of suicide

Arriving at the hotel for the next few nights, everyone got their own individual room. The town didn’t have many visitors, so the staff was happy to see a small incline in rooms being used. The team went their separate ways. They found the site that caused the "suicides" and with tomorrow being Friday, they knew they had to act quickly. However, Hotch could sense that they were all exhausted from working through the night the previous night. They needed to be sharp right now and make the right choices, so he demanded everyone would go and get some rest.

Something was bugging Emily. She entered her room for the night but felt that she would not be able to rest. Besides the gruesome case, she knew it was something else that was worrying her. JJ seemed more affected by this case than ever. It seemed personal and Emily didn’t want to pry but she also disliked seeing her coworker and friend hurting like this. She wanted to check up on her. She made a mental note to check in about half an hour, giving her adored colleague enough time to adjust to the room.

After making herself more at home in the unfamiliar hotel room, half an hour had passed fairly quickly. Emily felt nervous about checking up on JJ. She didn’t want to make her upset. Nonetheless, she left her room and searched for JJ’s room, remembering the number of her room after she said goodbye to her.

Emily knocked twice.

‘Who is it?’ Emily heard from inside the room. It was obviously JJ’s voice.

‘It’s me, Emily. Can you open the door?’

‘Give me a second.’ Emily heard some rummaging from the other side, but soon the handle moved. The door opened and revealed JJ who had changed into less formal and more comfortable attire. The first thing Emily noticed was a slight puff in her eyes and the whites that had a red wash over them, indicating she was probably crying before Emily came. The sight gave Emily a pang of regret. She shouldn’t have come here during such a vulnerable time but there’s no turning back now.

‘I- uh.’ Emily was stammering, trying to come up with an excuse for why she was here.

‘Is something wrong? Did we have a breakthrough on the case?’ A hopeful glint sprung in JJ’s eyes.

‘No, oh no, that’s not why I’m here, sorry.’ The hope washed away, replaced with the look of sadness that was previously there. ‘I-, I wanted to see how you were doing.’ Emily started to nervously pick at her fingers.

The blonde scoffed. ‘Em, I’m fine.’ JJ had the urge to close the door but decided against it. She didn’t feel like talking to her coworker about why she acted like this. She’s never told any of them about her past. Spencer and Penelope don’t even know, so why should she tell Emily now.

‘You know you’re surrounded by profilers all day, right? I can tell you’re not fine. You don’t have to tell me, but if you need anything, just know that I’m here for you.’

‘I hate profilers. I suppose I could use a distraction if you want to come in.’ JJ opened the door more as an invitation for Emily to enter. Emily, of course, took up on this offer and walked into the room.

‘Let’s order room service?’ Emily offered. She got a smile and a nod from the blonde, which was enough for Emily to make her smile. She found the menu and the two looked it over.

Whilst waiting for their desired food, they put on the tv in the room and looked at channels that had interesting shows. With the knock on the door, they shut off the tv and enjoyed their food in silence.

JJ broke the silence after they were done. ‘I really appreciate you coming to check on me, Em. I know this is a weird case, but I just had this feeling that something was happening.’ On instinct, she reached for the necklace she always wore and fidgeted with the pendant.

‘What’s with the necklace? You keep reaching for it.’ Emily asked out of curiosity, not thinking it meant a lot.

‘Oh, I got it from my sister.’ JJ was hesitant about her answer. She just hoped Emily wouldn’t ask more. She had never even mentioned a sister to Emily and the thought of Roslyn sent a sinking feeling through her body.

‘I don’t know you had a sis-‘ Emily started lightheartedly, but as she looked at JJ, who was still holding her necklace, she saw the tortured look on her face. She didn’t finish her sentence as her thoughts caught up with her, realizing why this case affected her so much. ‘Oh, Jayje-‘

‘Don’t’ JJ interrupted her. She tried her best to push the lump in her throat away, but her shaky breath betrayed her and she could feel her eyes getting glassy involuntarily. It would only take a few words for her to break.

Emily just stared at her. Her thoughts were going a million miles per second. Why did she never say anything? Did this recently happen or was it long ago? Was she even right with her assumption? Should she say something about it or change the subject? To what subject?

Both sitting on the queen-sized bed, Emily put a comforting hand on JJ’s shoulder. JJ felt the touch and knew she meant well, but she couldn’t look the brunette in her eyes just yet. She wanted to calm down for a second and make sure she wouldn’t break down in front of her coworker.

JJ felt like she had to say something. The silence felt uncomfortable. As if Emily could read her mind, she spoke up.

‘You don’t have to say anything about it. We can just sit here or we can even lay down together. I’m perfectly fine with just being here.’

Emily’s words calmed JJ down and she felt a bit better about the situation.

‘Can we lay down for a second?’ JJ asked with a quiet voice, still not trusting her voice to not come out shaky.

‘Of course.’ And the two laid down on the bed next to each other. Emily wasn’t sure what she should do now so she opted for staring at the ceiling until something happened. She soon felt the bed move and JJ adjusted her body so she could lay down her head on Emily’s shoulder.

JJ needed the connection if she was going to tell what was going on with her. The longer they spent together, the more natural it felt to just tell Emily what was up.

‘I was eleven-‘

‘Jayje, you don’t have to.’

‘I want to.’ A short silence filled the room. ‘She was only seventeen. Roslyn entered my room and saw that I had stolen her necklace. Instead of getting mad, she told me I could keep it and that I was strong. She told me that she’ll always love me. At the time, I didn’t realize what she was saying. All I could think of was how happy I was that I got to keep her necklace.’

‘She sounds like a good sister.’

‘She was.’ JJ could feel a tear rolling down her cheek. ‘The next morning I found her in the bathtub with my father’s razor on the floor covered in blood. I froze, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t scream or say anything.’

Emily wrapped her arm around JJ, who was crying on her shoulder and nudged her to move in closer. JJ turned in more and laid her arm across Emily's chest, feeling her heartbeat with her hand.

‘No eleven-year-old girl should see something like that.’ Emily started. ‘I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like, but know that at any point during this case, or any case really, you need a little breather, just nudge me and we can take a moment.’ Emily spoke sincerely and JJ knew that. The comforting words calmed her down and she felt a weight had fallen off her shoulders after telling someone, but not just someone. This was Emily, possibly the only person right now who could bring her comfort after telling her worst story. The only one who she could confide in. The only person who could ground her in times like these.

It was getting late and both were exhausted from working nonstop on this case. With arms and legs entangled and JJ’s head on Emily’s chest, the younger agent felt that she was falling asleep. Before she fell completely asleep she muttered a few words.

‘Thank you, Em.’

#criminal minds #short fic #short story #jemily #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #comfort #soft #fluff

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terrm9 · 4 years ago

Text

All The World Seems At Ease Tonight

a.k.a. Christmas Fic

Three years of Christmas Eve for Ethan and Chiara.

Warnings: some kissing, some cliché like mistletoes, mutual pining in the first part, other than that just fluff fluff fluff

Words count: 4 300

Author’s note: Here we are, in times when Valentine’s Day fics are being posted, I finished my Christmas Fic. Yay! It was supposed to be made of three equally long parts but I went crazy with the first one (it was my first time writing about Book One and I just truly enjoyed it). However, I hope you enjoy <3

Intern Year

It took longer for Ethan to finally walk the deserted corridor than he expected, but he decided to work on Christmas Eve for a reason – as he did every year – and checking on patients had to be the main priority. Of course it had to.

Yet, his steps carried him more swiftly than usually and he could feel his forehead ache from the constant concerned furrow of his brows. Naveen was feeling especially unwell these past two days and Ethan hated the idea of his older friend left alone and in pain on the day he loved that much.

Not that Ethan understood. Christmas, as every other holidays made no sense to him and if it was up to him, the whole nonsense would be erased and never celebrated again. But Naveen loved the festivities and the ‚merry spirit‘ of them, and so Ethan tried his hardest to keep him company for as long as he could.

Crossing the corridor enough to see the door of Naveen’s room, Ethan’s heart jumped in his chest as he noticed that they were slightly ajar.

Damn the man if he tried to take a walk.

Opening the door to the room fully, a soft breath of relief left Ethan at the sight of Naveen peacefully laying in his bed, his eyes closed but a gentle smile formed on his lips.

And he was not alone.

Ethan’s breath hitched in his throat again.

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t form a coherent sentence, he just kept standing in the doorway, devoured by the scene in front of him.

Chiara was sitting at one of the chairs next to Naveen’s bed, her back turned to the door and a small book in her hand.

And she was reading aloud.

„In fact I have no other choice

than, being alive, to live.

And every day,

into its every moment,

I lead this highly destructible body.

And if hope morse-signals: life

while hopelessness outruns possible death,

my decision is made -

I side with hope.

You can find me anytime

near its hidden paths.

Talking or silent.

I guard the human dream.

And I hold out

where I stand.“

Ethan’s throat tightened and he thanked the universe for the fact that the two doctors – the two doctors that meant so much to him – haven’t yet noticed his presence.

He was not sure what exactly made him feel the emotions currently filling his mind, and he could easily blame it on the merry spirit of Christmas, had he believed in it.

Maybe it was the melody of Chiara’s voice as she read the poem, so soft and gentle and beautiful. Or maybe it was a sight of Naveen, sick and weak and dying and yet looking so peaceful.

Perhaps it was the combination of both, the woman that captured his mind more often than he was willing to admit and the man that was like a father to him, spending time together in a perfect harmony, the air around them so serene it made Ethan wonder if his interruption would even be a welcome one.

„This one was my favorite,“ Naveen spoke into the silence, although he didn’t open his eyes.

„You said that after I finished the one before,“ Chiara chuckled softly, closing the book in her hands.

It was a miracle – not that Ethan believed in those – that Naveen managed to laugh at Chiara’s reponse without coughing. They looked almost... normal. As if his life was not ending anytime soon.

„It truly is a pity that there are only so few of his poems translated to English.“

„When you get through this,�� Chiara replied and Ethan hated that he could hear the sad smile in her words, despite not seeing her face at all. He had no right to know her that well. „You should learn the language and translate all of his poems.“

Naveen only hummed in a response, letting them both believe for a blissful moment that he would get through it.

It was the time for Ethan to make them aware of his presence. He coughed politely and stepped inside, doing his best to maintain a stoic mask on his face.

„Ethan!“ Naveen smiled brightly, just as brightly as Chiara did when she noticed Ethan, and for a moment it was easy to forget who they were, where they were.

„What are you doing here, Dr. Ray?“ Ethan asked instead of greeting and almost immediately winced at the choice of his words, knowing that he sounded rather rude.

When truly, he was simply surprised. He was not aware of Chiara working today.

„I am sorry, Dr. Ramsey,“ her bright smile turned into somehow sheepish one and she put the book on her chest, as if it could serve as a shield protecting her from Ethan’s inevitable anger. „All my patients are stable so I stopped by to keep Dr. Banerji company, at least for a while.“

„And what a pleasing company it was!“ Naveen exclaimed, shooting Ethan a reprimanding look, obviously not pleased by his behavior. „Are you finished with your tradition?“

Ethan tensed visibly and only gave away a stiff nod, the last thing he wished to share the tradition with the younger doctor.

„The... tradition?“ Chiara dared to ask despite his less than kind reaction. „I didn’t take you as someone with Christmas traditions.“

„I am not,“ Ethan spoke flatly, sitting on the chair on the other side of Naveen’s bed.

There were seconds of rather awkward silence between them before Chiara stated that she would leave them alone, wished Naveen Merry Christmas while hugging him and left the room.

It was as if warmth of the air went with her.

It didn’t take long for Naveen to chew Ethan out for how he behaved to Chiara – and Ethan noticed the affection, the gentleness lacing Chiara’s name as Naveen said it. He was right, of course. Ethan was hard for no reason and he wasn’t proud of himself, but what was he supposed to do? Ever since getting back from Miami, it was becoming more and more difficult to control his actions with her.

But Naveen was right. He had no right and he should make it all better.

And so after Naveen made it clear he would like to sleep, Ethan checked the schedule to make sure none of Chiara’s friends were working and then with a bated breath clicked on Chiara’s contact.

E: Where are you?

The reply came almost immediately, a sign that there was not emergency – which Ethan wasn’t sure he considered a good sign or not.

C: The on-call room. Why?

It didn’t really make sense to Chiara, why was Ethan texting her, him of all people. If there was an emergency, he could have easily paged her.

The answer to her question came quickly.

E: I am about to grab some take-out. I was wondering if you would care to join me in my office to share a meal.

Saying that Chiara gasped would be an understatement. She had to blink twice to make sure she was not missing a message stating that he sent it to the wrong number. But no.

C: Are you inviting me over for a Christmas dinner?

E: Do not be ridiculous. Do you like Italian kitchen?

C: Sure.

E: 9 PM, my office, then.

And then nothing. Chiara was almost absolutely sure that she was dreaming, because there was no way the same Dr. Ramsey that has been avoiding her ever since the conference would be inviting her for a – definitely Christmas – dinner.

But free food is free food and she would be lying if she said she wouldn’t welcome a distraction. No matter how hard she tried to stay positive, she missed her family terribly today.

And Ethan was a rather pleasant distraction after all.

At 10 PM, with her risotto eaten, a paper cup filled with an apple juice – the best option for a toast for them - she managed to get in the cafateria in her hand, Chiara found herself sitting comfortably at the leather couch in Ethan’s office, one of her leg crossed over the another, her white coat shrugged off and hanging over the arm of the couch.

It surprised her to see Ethan next to her, looking almost equally relaxed. One of his arms was draped over the back of the couch and Chiara could feel the warmth radiating from the skin of his hand, on her neck.

"So... is there a point in asking you about the tradition Dr. Banerji mentioned?" Chiara asked after finishing her drink, mischievous sparks dancing in her irises.

"No," Ethan replied immediately, although his voice wasn't nearly as stern as he wanted it to be. The right corner of his mouth twitched slightly, Chiara noticed, as if her question amused him.

Ethan wanted to share it with her, he almost let it slip, but he made a promise in Miami - to her or rather to himself, he didn't know - and damn him if he didn't keep that promise.

Professionals.

That's all they should, all they could, be.

And as if to prove himself wrong in the very next moment, he spoke again, asking a question that professionals shouldn’t want to ask.

"Are you going to share your reason for not visiting your family over Christmas?"

Chiara shrugged, her smile not quite faltering but losing some of its brightness.

He didn’t mean to pry, but he was curious. Chiara mentioned home and family fairly often and back in Miami, he could hear her on the phone with her mother – and it was exactly the kind of call a child and a parent that love each other share.

He found it only logical that Chiara would want to spend Christmas in San Francisco.

“I am not sure I would get that many free days as an intern.”

“All your friends have gotten three free days, so would you. It is not much, but it enough to take a quick trip to San Francisco.”

She laughed softly, her gaze strained with the thought or memories, Ethan didn’t know.

“We don’t celebrate Christmas at home since…” she stopped herself and cleared her throat and it didn’t take a diagnostician to see that she was looking for a way to tell Ethan enough without telling him the whole truth.

“It has been six years since we celebrated in San Francisco. For these last years, me, my mom and my sister travel abroad at the time of Christmas. This year, they are in Singapore,” she chuckled and turned to Ethan, a smile on her face wide, however her gaze still lost in the haze. “I am sure three days wouldn’t be enough for a quick trip to Singapore.”

Ethan laughed shortly at that and shook his head, no that would not, and he fought the urge to ask more, to get to know her more, to tell her about his mother, because professionals.

That is why Chiara hasn’t asked him back, why are you working today?, because he made it clear he wanted to keep things professional and she was not brave enough to push him again.

“I would want to stay in Boston anyway,” she added after a while, looking away again and she was biting her lips nervously.

Ethan didn’t want her to be nervous around him but damn, her teeth sinking into her lower lip and her cheeks flushed slightly and it took the last remnants of his strength to repeat the word in his head, professional, professional, professional.

“Why?” he asked.

“Well I knew that Dr. Banerji would be here and I thought it would be nice to spend some time with him. And I didn’t know if you would be here so,…”

She trailed off, not knowing what else to say and when she turned to Ethan, it surprised her to see how close he has gotten, his whole upper body slouching to her and his face so close she could feel his breath on her face.

And it would be easy to believe that he was only listening intently, that was the reason of his sudden proximity, it would be right to believe so, but Chiara was anything but stupid.

“Ethan,” she exhaled quietly and noticed how his pupils dilated at the sound of his name rolling off her lips.

She raised her hand and rested it on his cheek slowly, waiting for his reaction.

And in that moment, there were many words swirling through Ethan’s mind but professionals was not one of them.

He leaned closer, so close his lips brushed Chiara’s ever so softly and-

-and her pager went off.

Chiara stood up abruptly and took the pager out of her pocket.

“I guess that’s my call,” she smiled and it didn’t go unnoticed by Ethan that she sounded out of breath, that his effect on her was as strong as hers on him and he cursed himself for letting the damn word slip out of his mind.

He also cursed himself for not kissing her earlier, so that he could feel her lips fully before the pager went off.

“Merry Christmas, Ethan,” Chiara smiled at him for the last time and left the office before he could respond.

And Ethan thought that if he could celebrate the Christmas like this, with her, every years, maybe the holiday wouldn’t need to be erased.

Second Year

“So you already finished this tradition of yours today?” Chiara asked with that sweet, innocent smile on her lips as she stood between Ethan’s legs as he kept sitting on his chair, gently removing his glasses.

Only then she kissed the bridge of his nose softly, caressing his cheek with such care it almost didn’t make sense to Ethan.

“Yes,” he smiled back at her, enjoying their position and the fact that for once, Chiara was above his eye level and he had to raise his head to meet her gaze.

“And you are not going to tell me what it is?”

“No,” now it was Ethan’s turn to smile all-too-innocently and he knew Chiara was burning with curiosity.

He wouldn’t mind telling her now, but he would lie if he said that he was not enjoying seeing his Chiara, usually so composed and calm, freaking out about his secret Christmas tradition.

She leaned down to capture his lips and Ethan wondered if that was a part of her plan because if she’d continue to roll her tongue like that, he would tell her everything she would wish to hear.

And she knew that.

Ethan grabbed the back of her thighs, making her stumble slightly and sit in his lap and soon their kiss turned into proper make out session, his hands roaming her bare torso hungrily while her hands tugged on his hair, leaving them in the disheveled state she adored so much.

Before their Christmas evening could turn into the gala’s sequel – the memory still fresh in Ethan’s mind – Chiara pulled out with a reluctant sigh.

“My mom and Alicia told me to say Merry Christmas from them to you.”

Ethan nodded in thanks, however he couldn’t contain a sigh leaving him. He knew Chiara missed her family.

“Do you regret staying here instead of going with them?”

“Are you crazy?” Chiara laughed and unlike last year, Ethan remembered, her laugh was sincere and full of joy. “I am cold enough here in Boston. I wouldn’t wish to freeze to death in freakin’ Iceland.”

Not able to stop himself from rolling his eyes, Ethan let out a soft laugh too, however he had to agree with Chiara – the woman was cold all the time. He couldn’t imagine her hitchhiking through Iceland – a trip that evolved from what Chiara called ‘her mom’s middle age crisis’ idea’.

“And again, with the time off I took after the senator’s attack and Edenbrook’s closing, I wouldn’t be able to leave for three weeks.”

“You know I would sign off your vacation, three weeks or not,” Ethan mumbled into her neck.

Chiara smacked his arm lightly, an amused grin on her lips.

“And that, Dr. Ramsey, is not at all professional.”

Ethan wanted to argue that he could think of many not at all professional activities that happened in this very office, but sometimes not reminding himself of his terrible failure at staying colleagues was for the best.

Not that this relationship was by any means a failure. Letting himself fail his principles for once in his life turned out to be the best decision he has ever made.

“I knew you would be working,” Chiara added much more seriously and she was, of course, right. There were reasons Ethan was dedicated to work every Christmas Eve, reasons he never talked about but were enough for him to not to break the habit.

“And you would rather spend your Christmas at work with me, than in Europe with your family?”

“Yes,” Chiara stated simply, not a single hint of doubt in her voice. None.

Who knows how much longer we are going to work in this hospital together, she thought but didn’t say it aloud, not wanting to ruin the bright mood.

Checking his watch, Ethan gestured at Chiara to stand up and followed her in her tracks, trying his best to tame the mess his hair has become.

“I am going to pick up the food. Are you going to join me?”

“Nope, I still need to check on some patients. I will accompany you to the nurses’ station.”

They left the office together and Ethan still couldn’t quite comprehend this new reality for them, the life where they walked the corridor freely next to each other, Ethan’s hand put on Chiara’s lower back gently, and he didn’t need to worry about anyone seeing them.

“Dr. Ray, Dr. Ramsey,” Marlene smiled at them from the desk and noticing Ethan’s relaxed shoulders, she dared to go on. “Didn’t you want to spend your Christmas outside of the work?”

Chiara shrugged and smiled widely, not giving Ethan a chance to ruin Marlene’s mood by his sour response – it didn’t matter how relaxed he was, he couldn’t stand people asking him personal questions.

“We like to work. Someone has to do it even today, right?” she smiled at the nurse.

“Maybe you could engage at least in some form of Christmas cheer, hm?” Marlene gestured at the green adornment above their heads and Chiara couldn’t contain her smirk when she noticed what it was.

Mistletoe.

“Absolutely not,” Ethan stated, his arms crossed at his chest. “We are at work. I will not fuel rumors by indulging in such public display of physical affection.”

Chiara raised an eyebrow at him and Ethan was not sure if she was trying to remind him that the office’s walls were still made out of glass and therefore their earlier escapades could be very well considered a public display of physical affection, had anyone come by, or-

“Ah,” Marlene laughed loudly. “You didn’t mind to fuel those rumors at the gala not even three weeks ago, Dr. Ramsey.”

Ethan’s cheeks flushed brightly but it was clear at the moment that those two women would not let him leave that easily.

Sighing reluctantly, he planted a quick – yet gentle – kiss at Chiara’s cheek and muttering ‘food’ left the corridor.

“What are you doing to the poor man, Dr. Ray,” Marlene whispered as she watched his retreating form, winking at the young redhead she came to like very much.

Third Year

It seemed like it would become their very own tradition, to share their Christmas dinner behind the walls of Ethan’s office.

Chiara was extremely tempted to join her mother and Alicia this year – after all, it is at least warm on Mauritius and Chiara deperately wished to feel warm for a while. But with Leland not that approving of her relationship with Ethan – with her boss, as he reminded them – she wouldn’t dare to ask him for two weeks of vacation.

And maybe she was secretly thankful that he made that decision for her – she missed her family, but she couldn’t imagine sending Ethan beach pictures while he would be working. And she knew he would be working.

It took her by surprise, by the most beautiful surprise, when Ethan asked her if she wouldn’t want to spend New Year’s Eve in San Francisco – there was no doubt they would get three or four days off for that – and that he would accompany her, if she would like that.

Only then she found out he exchanged messages with her mother rather regularly and they came up with the idea together, actually.

And so there she was – walking down the long corridor of renewed Bloom Edenbrook’s hospital, a patient chart in one of her hands and a Christmas card she got from one of the patient in the other. Chiara only needed to drop the charts off at the nurses’s station and she was free to enjoy her take-out with Ethan for as long as their pagers would remain silent.

After checking everything twice and making sure she wasn’t needed anywhere, she stepped into the office, smiling at the sight of a single candle glowing in the middle of Ethan’s desk – maybe the idea of this truly being a Christmas dinner was finally getting on him.

„Before we start,“ Chiara spoke first, taking a seat next to Ethan on a couch. „I saw you leaving a paediatrics wing today and I know you have no patient there. Is that your tradition?“

She normally wouldn’t really care about Ethan being somwhere weird, but this was their third Christmas together and there were many, many attempts on Chiara’s side to get the information out of Ethan through the years, only for him to resist.

And it was beginning to be ridiculous.

„Yes,“ Ethan rolled his eyes but he didn’t really seem anyhow bothered. He hugged Chiara’s waist and put a lingering kiss on her temple, her smell intoxicating him even after years of knowing it. Knowing Chiara.

„So what exactly is it what you do there?“

„I read books to the kids that have to stay here and are alone. I am not dressed as Santa,“ he added quickly, noticing Chiara’s curious eyes. „I just come there, bring some books with me, read them for as long as I can. It’s not much, but...“

Chiara turned to him fully now and whispered: „It is more than much,“ before kissing him softly, pouring all the love she felt into the simple act of their lips meeting eagerly.

And she still wondered, how was it that it was her, that she was the privileged one to see this side of Ethan Ramsey, the side that reads book to sick kids and hugs overwhelmed mothers and buys a candle because he knows his girlfriend loves candles on the Christmas table.

„Didn’t you want to spend this Christmas with Alan?“ Chiara asked between the kisses, genuinely curious – the relationship between two Ramsey men was finally good, after all.

„He knows I will come tomorrow. I wanted to work today.“

„You... wanted to work?“ Chiara leaned back and shot him a confused stare.

She knew that it was Ethan’s habit to work on Christmas Eve, but it never occured to her that it was something he truly wanted.

Ethan leaned into the back of the couch, exhaling slowly before responding.

„I never had anyone waiting for me at home on Christmas. And I made sure, every year, that I would be working on Christmas Eve, because me working meant someone else being able to go home. When I work, it might guarantee another doctor to spend his evening with his family, his kids.“

There was a mix of emotions in Ethan’s eyes, even if his voice was steady – a gentlesness mixed with pain and perhaps even anger.

„I believe that parents should be home for Christmas. I am aware of our job being demanding, but no child should feel left behind because their parents have important job. If there is only one of the fellow doctors that is able to play board games with his kids now because I am here – we are here – working, then yes, I want to work.“

He propped his head on the back and closed his eyes for a while and it stunned Chiara how peaceful he looked, how content. She squeezed his hand, however before she could say anything, Ethan spoke again.

„Until that is something we have, I am more than happy to spend my Christmas Eve’s here with a take-out and you.“

It seemed like he didn’t even realize what he just said, his position, his expression not changed.

But Chiara noticed.

Until that is something we have.

They never really talked about family. Future. They loved each other, there were no doubts about that, and they enjoyed planning the upcoming months of their lives. Chiara knew she wanted to spend her life with Ethan. And deep down she knew that he felt the same – that they didn’t go through that much for him to just let her go.

But the statement left her speechless nonetheless.

It wasn’t even that much about him saying that there might be an option for a family in his future – Ethan changed a lot after all.

It was the way he said, with such easiness, such certainity, without a single doubt, until that is somethig we have.

We. Us.

It was his third Christmas with Chiara and Ethan knew that if it hadn’t been for her, he would still wish to erase Christmas from the existence of an universe.

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #christmas fic #chiara ray

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