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wreckofawriter · 5 years ago

Text

Redbull

Pairing: Harry Potter x reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Swearing, a complete crack fic.

Song to Set the Vibe: Break Shit ~ Jasiah

Request: Reader gets extra homework from Snape and drinks redbull to finish it, she then freaks out becaue of overintake of caffeine

A/n: this is a crack fic plain and simple, kinda fun to write, I used it as an excuse to bash Snape and Pansy. It's not edited so ignore spelling and grammar(Ps I'm in love with Shigaraki Tomura so if anyone can help me that would be great)

You rolled your eyes aimlessly flipping through your potions textbook in hopes to find something worth your time inside of it. You found nothing but continued to scan the pages, thoughts wandering to random topics. You groaned wondering if you could catch Harry’s attention from across the room. You cursed Snape for separating you, now you were stuck next to Pansy Perkins, someone you would sooner pitch from the autonomy tower than have a civilized conversation with, although you doubted she was able to have such things. You let out another loud sigh as your stares into your boyfriend’s head gave you no reaction.

Pansy turned, glaring. You stuck your tongue out at her and she scoffed turning away.

“You’re disgustingly childish.” she spat inching her seat away from you.

“At least I’m not in love with a boy who finds me annoying and borderline repulsive.” You shot back.

She scowled back at you, “Shut your filthy mouth, you know nothing about me.”

“I know you’re an uppity bitch.” You shrugged back grinning.

She let out a high pitched shriek as you struggled to keep in giggles. Eyes snapped toward your table and you looked towards your desk-mate pretending to be shocked by her outburst.

“Ms. Perkinson, is everything alright?” Snape was clearly uninterested in her answer.

For a second you were sure she would snitch on you but she decided to keep her dignity intact and shook her head.

You snickered, waving to Harry who rolled his eyes playfully, a small grin on his face.

As Snape went back to his lesson you smirked at the red-faced girl, “Wow Perkionson you truly decided to keep your pride on that one didn’t you?”

She responded with nothing no longer playing along.

“That’s something I would have done, you know us prideful Gryffindors. I suppose you were placed in the wrong house.” You continued to bait the girl.

She scoffed again, “I was put in the right house, thank you very much.”

“Oh sure, you were.” You bit your lip in thought before an idea revealed itself. “Oh my Godric, Draco is totally staring at you.” You gasped in mock surprise.

She snapped to attention spinning around to look where the blonde was seated only to find him asleep at his desk. You laughed quietly as she spun around to glare at you again.

“I’m only kidding of course,” You chuckled, “I’m sure he would rather stare at a troll’s ass than you, I know I sure would.”

Her cheeks blossomed with red anger, her eyes narrowing to slits as you held back barking laughter. “Shut up.” Her voice was shaky with fury.

“Ooo, looks like I’ve struck a nerve.” You jeered happily. “ ‘fried Darcy is never gonna love your little pug face?”

Apparently you took it too far because the girl leapt to her feet swinging her wand at you, “Flipendo!”

You flipped straight off your chair and was flung into the desk next to you, a splintering pain shooting through your back. You didn’t let it show laughing as you stood “What?! Can’t take the truth pug-face?” You snatched your wand from your robes, “Tentaclifors!”

Pansy’s head was replaced by a large grey tentacle in seconds, “At least now you’ll look better!” You barked in a wide grin. Laughter and shouts echoed around you but your joy was cut in one swift flash.

“Y/l/n!”

You turned to see your professor, his anger quite evident amongst his dull features.

“Ms. Greengrass, please escort Ms. Perkinson to the hospital wing.” He snarled as you bit back a giggle.

“Since you seem to find dueling with a classmate while I’m teaching so amusing, y/l/n, I expect six pages on the essay due tonight instead of two.” He snapped.

“But she fired first!” You defended.

“I simply do not care.” He responded, “I want six pages.”

You glared at the man mumbling some unpleasant words under your breath before taking your seat again. At least you only had ten minutes of class left.

Saying you liked to procrastinate would be an understatement. You were wildly in love with procrastination. You were an absolute expert at finding anything but your work to do. You shoved the essays and worksheets to the back of your mind and instead helped the twins with a prank or read a new book. You could close off the bad thoughts of school work like a pro, even Hermionie’s nagging couldn’t get you to work until the sunlight had faded and the stars were visible in the sky.

You had once again followed through on your usual routine and now at ten at night you were finally beginning to start your hours of work.

You groaned, “How can our professors be so cruel? This is a wildly unfair amount of work.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Maybe if you had gotten started on it right away then you wouldn’t be so stressed right now.”

“Whatever.” You mumbled.

Harry who sat beside you, his head on your shoulder, arm around your waist peered at the textbooks you had placed in front of you. “Don’t you have that essay from Snape too?”

You whimpered, the sound of a wounded animal, “I totally forgot about that.” You buried your head into the dark-haired boy’s chest, “I’m so fucked.”

He chuckled earning a glare from you as you pouted up at him, “Sorry,” he murmured, “You’re just so cute.”

Ron groaned, “Can you not do that in front of me?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Don’t be jealous Ron, green is not a good color on you.”

“I am not jealous.” He scoffed.

“Whatever,” you whined, “Someone help me. I’m gonna pass out in like an hour.”

“That’s your own fault.” Hermione pointed out, you ignored her picking up your transfiguration notes and beginning to scribble down answers.

Three hours later you were completely exhausted. Both Hermione and Ron had retired to their beds. Harry was beside you struggling to stay awake as he poured over your Defense Against the Dark Arts paragraph. Your eyelids felt too heavy and your mind was fogged over, memories smeared in the mud of fatigue. You were at your breaking point.

“I haven’t even started that stupid essay.” You whimpered, eyes suddenly pricking with tears. You hiccuped choking back sobs, “I can’t do this.”

Harry sat up rubbing his eyes and stumbling towards you. He sat next to you holding open his arms as you buried yourself into his embrace. You let yourself go, tears spilling down your cheeks onto the boy’s shoulder.

“Y/n/n.” He whispered causing you to look up at him. He cupped your head in his hands using his thumbs to wipe your tears, their cold temperature feeling refreshing against your hot sticky skin. “You’re gonna be okay, I’m gonna get you an energy drink and you're going to be just fine. I swear.”

“Energy drink?” You tilted your head in confusion.

He nodded, “I’ve got a whole bunch of them up in my room so I can stay up.”

“Okay.” You mumbled leaning into his touch which was so cruelly torn away from you.

“I’ll be right back.”

Harry stumbled back down the stairs with a brightly colored box a few minutes later. You investigated one of the cans he had given you and frowned.

“Redbull?”

He nodded, “Yeah muggles drink the stuff all the time, it's like super-powered coffee.” You shrugged, cracking open the can to a small fizz, “Careful it tastes like shit.”

You took a large swig anyway cringing at the taste but ignoring it.

You heard the hiss of carbonation and glanced over at Harry who was about to take a sip of the liquid. “Harry, go to bed, I’ll finish this myself.”

He glanced hazily at you, “Are you sure?”

You nodded, taking the drink from him, “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” He spoke hesitantly standing, “Love you y/n/n.” He placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Love you too.” You responded “Goodnight.”

He disappeared upstairs and you took another sip.

Harry awoke the next morning and clambered down the dormitory steps to find you pacing and what seemed to be mumbling to yourself. He scrunched his brow and continued across the room looking down when he heard a loud clang and felt something bounce off his shoe. It turned out to be a can that was sent rolling across the carpeted room knocking into three others on the way.

You had now noticed the boy’s arrival and turned to greet him, “Harry!” You yelled a bit too loudly, “Thank Godric you’re up! I’ve been waiting for ages.” You scampered across the room laughing a bit. Harry noticed the almost hazy look in your eyes immediately, dark circles also accompanied them.

“Y/n how long have you been up?” He hesitantly asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

You glanced down at your watch and did a bit of math, “26 hours give or take.” You were bouncing on your heels.

Harry’s eyes widened, “You didn’t sleep at all?”

“Couldn’t, that shit really works man,” You spoke too quickly, “Like really works”

“Exactly how much did you have?” He wondered in part amazement part fear.

“Umm like all of it.” You responded as you walked away from him and began to pack up your stuff in a rushed manner.

“All of it?!” Harry choked out his eyes glancing around the room finding far too many can littering the floor.

You nodded, “Yep, yeppers, sure did. In fact, do you have any more? I think I might need to ride this high for a few more hours.”

“Y/n, I’m not giving you anymore that is extremely unhealthy,” Harry said, watching as desperation filled your eyes only to be replaced by determination.

You sprinted towards his stairs, tripping on one but standing before you could even feel the bruise begin to form on your knee.

“Y/n/n what are you doing?” Harry called after you, “Hey get down here!”

By the time Harry managed to make it up the stairs you had already pulled another box of the drinks from under his bed, ripped it open and was drinking a can. Ron who was shirtless apparently changing stared at you in horror.

“The hell y/n!”

You laughed, “Bug off Ron.” Your voice was so rushed it was almost inaudible. You then ran from the room dodging Harry and stumbling back down the stairs. Harry chased after you frantically. “Y/n!”

You laughed again, “Let’s head to breakfast Harry!” You then skipped out of the portrait hole.

By the time potions rolled around you had finished off almost all of the cans in the new box you had stolen before Harry managed to snag it from you. You were still hours from crashing and insisted on running on your good feeling. Literally.

You sprinted through the halls not much caring about the students and teachers you bumped into. You ran straight through Nearly Headless Nick and shrieked at the icy temperature you plunged into but kept running. You reached the dungeons in record time before running into Malfoy who cussed at you.

You turned to face him in a whirlwind, “You know Draco, I think I’m quite a nice person but you make me just want to break your nose.” You said it so matter-of-factly his eyes went wide and you were gone before he could answer.

You made it to the potions room and burst inside Harry wheezed for breath at the door deciding he needed to work out more.

“Snape!” You called loudly plopping onto your desk and removing your papers, scrawled in messy handwriting.

“It’s Professor Snape.” He corrected you in a snarl.

You blinked owlishly at him tilting your head to the side, “But I’m not a professor.”

Snape frowned, dropping his mouth to say something but before he could, you lunged at him, shoving your homework into his hands and laughing wildly as he stumbled backward.

“Y/l/n what on earth is wrong with you?” He spat.

You shrugged, “Redbull.”

“What is a Red Bull?” he scoffed.

“A potion.” You responded and Harry snorted, “You haven’t heard of it? It's something muggles made, it helps keep you awake when your dickwad of a teacher gives you extra homework.”

Snape’s face flashed, red anger crawling onto his pale visage, “10 points from Gryffindor for insulting a teacher.”

You snickered, “Make it twenty you greasy hairball.”

He did.

Pansy found sitting next to you extremely difficult, you continued to pick at your desk, leg bouncing absentmindedly as you hummed a song.

“Have you gone insane y/l/n?” she asked in a hushed whisper refusing to meet your eye after yesterday’s duel.

“Yes.” you confirmed loudly, “I was forced to look at you.” Snickers and laughs echoed around you and you smiled smugly. “I can’t even imagine what it's like for poor Malfoy when you shove yourself into his face every hour. No wonder he constantly looks like he has a broom handle shoved up his ass.”

This caused Seamus who sat a few seats from you to laugh so hard his eyes began to water as his deskmate Dean chuckled helplessly.

“Y/l/n!” Snape hissed, “Do you think this is a comedy club?”

“Considering you’re the one in charge it should be.” You answered. “But you aren’t very funny, so maybe not.”

Seamus howled slamming his hand on his desk as Ron damn near fell out of his chair. Gryffindor lost more points and Harry decided to never give you an energy drink ever again.

Taglist:

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

@theseuscmander

@sleepingalaska

Masterlist

#harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter au #harry potter imagine #harry potter ships #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #harry potter crack

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katcadecascade · 5 years ago

Text

A Late Atlas Ball prompt fic

Title: They Dance Across the Darling Rooftop Wreck

Summary: An Atlas ball isn't something Qrow is prepared for. He wants to go to spend time with his kids and Clover, really he does.It's just that none of his wardrobe is fancy-schmancy due to the fact all his shirts have an opening cut in the back.Cause yah know, wings and all that jazz.

Ao3

Chapter One: everything you do

When James announced that they’ll have a ball to celebrate the Amity satellite’s completion, Qrow honestly thought he was joking. But no, good old Jimmy doesn’t joke about coordinated events at Atlas’ elite standards.

The kids’ high enthusiasm and giddiness is expected, immediately making plans to get new outfits but Qrow can’t quite share their feelings.

He’s a bit of a mess of anxiety as he tries to move away from his kids’ happiness filling up their lounge and media room. The furthest couch seemed like the best place for Qrow to just huddle into his wings and quietly sip his tea, wallow in a festering scramble of thoughts believing that this dance will be terrible idea for him.

Before more misery could snatch his will, the couch’s weight dipped as Clover sits next to him.

“Hey,” he begins gently, “I don’t think your tea’s doing its job right. May I?”

Already he reads Qrow too well, something that Qrow actually appreciates. Qrow sets his mug on the side table and scoots closer to his boyfriend, arranging his large wings carefully. Much to his embarrassment, Clover ends up wrapping his muscly arms around Qrow’s small waist to bring him into his lap.

After a bit of shifting to get comfortable, Qrow leans his head against Clover’s face.

“What’s wrong, baby bird?”

“I don’t really do dances or balls,” he admits.

Sure there were a few Beacon dances but back then his wings were smaller, easier to manage under his cape but unfortunately these feathery appendages decided to get bigger. It was hard enough to constantly alter his shirts to have a gap for his wing bones back then.

His huntsman outfits were always specially tailored to protect his back while also leaving an opening for his wings. Yet that detail is also prioritized for the sake of him being in the field. Off missions, it was always up to Qrow to patch up casual shirts or go bare.

Since this is Solitas, the second option isn’t recommended. Well only for Clover in their bedroom but aside from that Qrow’s been wearing shirts where the buttons line up his back. It’s simple and practical but not at all the standard for a ballroom.

So it’s understandable that Qrow does not own any sort of fancy ass outfit that takes account of his faunus traits.

Black feathers ruffle at the thought, basically projecting the root of his issues to Clover.

“Dances can be lame,” Clover assured. His warm hands soothing Qrow’s lower back. “Don’t tell James but the last party he hosted wasn’t too smooth.”

“Then it’s a good thing that Weiss and Winter are in charge,” he mumbled, letting himself relax into Clover. His wings fold inwards, reminding Qrow of what’s been clouding his mind. “I don’t really have anything to wear compared to whatever they got.”

One of Clover’s hands travels up to trace at Qrow’s jaw, “You don’t have to force yourself to go.”

“I know but,” his eyes flicker over to the kids and their commotion, “I want to be there with them. It would be nice right?”

His hesitation rang out with the tiny budding hope inside of him. For years he missed out on Ruby’s and Yang’s childhood for missions or hangovers. Now with a few months of sobriety under his belt, Qrow has a better conscious to make efforts in spending time with his family.

He prefers video game nights or cooking lessons over ballroom dances but still, it sounds like a good time.

“It will be,” Clover promises, “and maybe I can even sweep you off your feet.”

Qrow flicks Clover’ ear and tried not to scoff or laugh, “In your dreams, lucky charm.”

That only makes Clover hold onto Qrow tighter, brushing his fingers through his dark hair, “Too late, you’ve already stepped out of my dreams and into my life. No way am I letting you go.”

The way Clover trails kisses down Qrow’s neck sends his feather fluffing uncontrollably.

“Sap,” he huffed before digging his hands underneath Clover’s shirt, wandering his nails across the taunt skin.

Right as Qrow kissed the crown of soft brown hair, one of his kids shout, “Really? Right in front of my salad?”

“Nora, this is my salad.”

Nora rephrases, “Really? Right in front of Blake’s salad?”

“Alright we get it,” Clover got a secure grip on Qrow’s back and his thigh before he stood up.

Qrow had to loop his arms around Clover’s neck and warp his legs around the torso too. “Geeze, give me a warning, Cloves.”

His wings flapped once to regain balance but Clover had practice on picking up Qrow by now.

Clover winked, “I told you, Qrow, I wanted to sweep you off your feet.” As he carefully walks them out, Clover whispers to his ear, “I also look forward to dancing with you too.”

Dancing, right, that’s something that happens in a ballroom.

Oh gods, what has Qrow signed up for?

That night he decides to procrastinate on thinking on solutions or dwelling on failure. Clover is a helpful distraction, the best by how tenderly he holds Qrow, how intense his lips and devoted words are. It’s all something Qrow never thought he’d ever want, passion without consequences, commitment without pity.

It’s just Qrow and Clover and he will do whatever he can to keep each other.

And that includes going to some dance.

He still doesn’t have a plan on what to wear so Qrow doesn’t know what to think when Marrow shows up at his door later in the week and announces, “Come on Qrow, we’re going shopping.”

There was no time to argue because Marrow was giving him puppy dog eyes.

It wasn’t as effective as Ruby’s but the results were the same. Qrow was helpless against bright eyed kiddos.

Marrow takes them down the humble business streets of midtown Mantle. The entire place has been newly constructed after the Grimm invasions that preluded the elections.

Long story short and one corrupted elitist CEO arrested later, Robyn got her council seat and finally got a real talk with James to truly fix the issues between Mantle and Atlas. Sure there’s still a shit ton of problems that can’t be solved in a few days but apparently this ball is to celebrate the achievements so far.

Qrow still can’t imagine Robyn agreeing to this. Flaunting money doesn’t seem like her style. Then again, it’s a party where the doors of Atlas academy are open to everyone in Atlas and Mantle. Maybe this is more than a dance, a peace offering or proof that things are changing here for the better.

Perhaps Qrow’s issues are minor to it all, that his silly worries are nothing to the whole political agenda or whatever.

“Are you okay?” He snaps his faraway attention off of the sidewalk to Marrow. The younger man gives him a nostalgic smile, “Your wings are drooping.”

Just like with Marrow, Qrow’s faunus traits would often emote what he’s really feeling. He quickly flexes his shoulder blades, fixing the wings back up.

“I’m just…” Qrow doesn’t want to admit something so blatantly obvious but he has to ask, “This ball is going to be a big deal, isn’t it?”

Marrow blinks at Qrow like he’s dumb, “Well duh, everyone wants it to be real.”

Now that wording makes Qrow even more confuse, “Be real?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “We all need something big and finite to finally get that this is really happening.”

“Okay, so this dance is big and finite.”

Marrow rolls his eyes, “Atlas loves a good party.”

“You’re right about that.”

The dog faunus huffed, “It was the best way to supplicate the masses, yah know?” Something serious and thoughtful eludes from Marrow, his past sarcasm or immaturity gone as he says, “Smile big for the cameras, really show off that things are alright now and that we won’t fall apart because we are finally in a better place than ever before.”

Qrow’s lack of response makes the silence deflate whatever energy Marrow had just now. He buries his face in his scarf out of embarrassment for venting.

“Wow kid,” Qrow manages to say, “You’re right.”

A smile peeks out of the brown scarf, “I know.”

“Were you always so…”

“Sage like? Wise? Academic?” All suggestions and baits for his ego by the looks of his wagging tail.

“I was going to say worried,” Qrow shrugged, “but yeah, all those things too.”

Marrow scratched his neck, “I try not to worry too much but it comes with this life doesn’t it?”

He’s not talking about his career, Qrow instantly knows.

Life as a faunus in a high end society is nothing to brag or shrug about. Qrow only got his popularity through his huntsman skill and even his teaching job if that’s not hard to believe. But that was in Beacon where Qrow had his sister and friends and even Ozpin.

Here in both Atlas and Mantle, it must have been a wild story for Marrow to become an Ace Operative. Constantly observed in and out of the uniform and with a faunus trait he can’t hide, Marrow must have dealt with a lot of scrutiny in his years.

Unintentionally or not, Qrow walked Marrow’s pace and brushed his wing against Marrow’s back. Where words fail him, he hopes that this gesture would be a comfort.

Marrow sends him a wryly grin, far too similar to Clover’s. “Huh, you do have your cute, touching moments.”

A wing flap aimed at Marrow’s head.

“Hey!”

“Oops.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Marrow waves off, “We’re here.”

They stopped at a store front decorated with reds, whites, and greens. On the glass windows reads the shop’s name, Northern Hyrule Designs and Seamstress.

Upon entering with the door’s little bell, Qrow tries not to groan at the sight of a fancy dress and suit shop. One side has racks of dresses, the other suits, the back is an entrance way leading to the dressing rooms where Qrow sees a three paneled mirror in the back. But smacked dap in the middle of the shop is a raised circle platform he hopes he doesn’t end up modeling on.

So far there’s only one employee in attendant or behind a door labeled for the staff.

“Hello, welcome!” A woman behind the front register greets them. She waves a clawed hand, sharp black talons matching the feathers blanketing her forearm. Near her elbow, the feathers have an orange hue.

“Hi Pito,” Marrow greeted and then whipped his head around the room searchingly, “Is Maddie here?”

As if summoned, a blur of pink and black jumps out of a circular clothing rack to latch onto Marrow’s leg, tugging at his winter coat.

“Mar!” A little girl chirped, her shiny grey beak nuzzles against the young man’s knee.

“Hey, Maddie,” he pats her brown hair, careful for the pink bow framing her face. It’s pretty cute how it matches her dress. “You dressed up for a party?”

“No, felt like being pretty in pink,” she trills and easily slides her hands into Marrow’s big ones. The kid has no personal space as she stands on his boots to physically walk her over to Pito.

The woman has a loving and aspirating look that only a parent has, something too relatable to Qrow, as she claps her talons, “Madeleine, you can’t tackle all of our clients.”

Maddie’s shoulders slumped, “Okay Mama.” She then peers up to Qrow and shouts, “Uncle!”

An undignified squawk betrays his composure while Marrow laughs sharply.

“Hah,” Pito smiles reassuringly, “my brother also has wings, greyer but that doesn’t stop Madeleine now does it?”

“Uncle,” she insists again, moving over with grabby hands but her mother guides her off that path, likely used to this habit.

“Maddie, sometimes you can’t surprise someone with a hug,” Pito lectured. She turns to Qrow with an offered claw, “Hi, I’m Pitohui and this is my daughter, Madeleine.”

“I’m Qrow,” he shakes her hand, “so, um, I’m guessing Marrow brought me here for your expertise?”

Qrow glanced over to some of the models at the window, noticing all had a defining faunus trait and wore a classy outfit.

The seamstress begins to explain, “I design and make alternations for outfits according to any faunus’ needs. Personally half of my business profits from my brother’s vanity but I make it a goal to make every faunus in Mantle feel as glamorous as any other Atlesian.”

“That’s a nice goal.”

Madeleine exclaims, “My goal is to sing like my uncle!” She looks to Qrow expectedly, batting her eyelashes.

Geeze, too many kids are good at melting his heart.

Qrow quirks a smile, “I’m sure you’ll be the best singer in Atlas.”

“I’m telling Weiss you said that,” Marrow teased.

“She won’t believe you.”

“So,” Pito cuts in, as a parental authority tends to do before two idiots start bicker, “what are you both looking for?”

“We’re here to get some new suits,” Marrow answered, already sliding hangers on their racks to examine the suits.

“Speak for yourself,” Qrow said, “I think a dress would be better for me.”

The younger man stared at him for a few seconds before confirming, “You’re not joking.”

“Nope.”

“In that case,” Pito has a kind smile as she leads Qrow to a rack of dresses, “let’s get started.”

They spend a good while looking around. Qrow would occasionally look at the suits but truly a dress is more to his preferences. Marrow sticks to the suits but sometimes Qrow would catch him peeking over to the prettiness of the skirts.

Eventually it occurs to Qrow that some of these clothes are pricy. Right, this is a business aimed towards fancy events.

“How are we paying for this?” He asks and ties to do math in his head regarding his paychecks.

“Oh right, the General saw me this morning,” Marrow reaches into his coat and hands Qrow an envelope. “This is for you.”

Flipping it open, what falls into his hand is a credit card under James’ name.

Huh, he could get used to getting spoiled with money but right now he’s not. Qrow was never a big spender, only got the bare necessities since he had to travel light. The tiny card feels too golden and clean to be in his hands.

“Don’t worry,” Pito winks at him, “I’ll give you a family discount.”

“Uncle!” Agreed Madeleine.

The little bird girl has an armful of suits and takes Marrow’s hand to pull him to the dressing rooms. That just leaves him and Pito to talk shop.

It’s kind of obvious that whatever Qrow’s going to wear it’s gonna be backless.

Cause yah know, wings and that jazz.

Plus, Qrow looks good in a backless dress.

He tries on a few different styles, from gown-like to modern. Because of he’s seeking professional help Pito had him on the raised platform and rolled over a full body mirror.

With each dress, Qrow gets more and more comfortable to seeing his reflection.

If clothes make the person then Qrow is practically ethereal and awing even to his own eyes. The skirts he wore in Beacon are child’s play compared to Pitohui’s designs. Each one is soothing to the touch, quickly adjusted for his wings and all are beautiful in their own right.

This current dress in particular is a bright shade of red that goes more into Ruby’s palette than Qrow’s but all over there are black threads weaving in looping designs into the fabric.

The collar is snug against his neck, thankfully not itchy like he hoped. The material is soft to the touch, connected to the collar and it dips over his chest in a pentagon-like shape. It wraps around his back to tie a large ribbon underneath the base of his wings. As for the skirt part, it’s a slanted cut to show off his left leg thigh and its ends nearly touch the floor.

Half of his mind is wondering what’s gonna be Clover’s reaction. Likely praises and kisses. Okay now more than half of his mind is thinking about that.

Qrow is unintentionally successful at making his cheeks match the dress.

“Ooh,” Pito cooed, “I take it that this is the one?”

He finds himself nodding before a chance to reconsider but he doesn’t dare to have second thoughts.

“Well,” he ends up saying, holding up the tail end the dress, “Can you shorten this part? I don’t want to risk tripping over it.”

“No problem.”

Marrow exits a dressing stall, a flattering blue suit vest emphases his waistline but he keeps fixing the rolled sleeves of the white undercoat.

He hums an impressed tune to the bird, “Wow, I honestly didn’t think you’d look good in a dress. I just never thought it would work.”

“What kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t make you learn new things,” Qrow said. He studied his figure in the mirror as Pito worked with a measuring tape for the skirt.

The red dress shows off his silhouette, curves and dips in a smooth wave that he vaguely acknowledged with his regular clothes. His muscles add to his features, a strong contrast that brings a depth of both beauty and power in him.

His wings flair out and he can’t help but shift around, see the different angles on how the large things work with the dress. Everything looks too good to be true, elegant even or graceful. Qrow spent years not caring too much on his appearance, just shucked on whatever shirt he could around his wings. Now in this dress, it feels more than okay around his wings because it was literally made with people like him in mind.

It’s kind of refreshing to dress up like this.

Marrow’s curious gaze gets Qrow thinking out loud, “Wait, did the others not tell you about when Jaune wore a dress?”

Blinking, Marrow asked, “He did what?”

“Yeah, did it to cheer up a friend.” That’s one way to describe a memory coated with both joy and grief.

“Huh.”

A dazed off look enters Marrow’s eyes until they wander off to the dress section. His hesitant feet leads them over to the frills and silk and lace. Little Madeleine is instantly by his side, piling dresses in her arms. Qrow picks up the wary curiosity in the unsure movement in the younger man.

Taking a page out of Clover’s book, he says, “You don’t have to force yourself to do this, Marrow.”

“I’m just trying stuff out,” Marrow said, more for himself.

The guy does look a little clueless. After all, simply picking a dress and wearing it is not as easy as it sounds. For skirts, that’s only a matter of hipbones or whatever. As for dresses, Qrow knows from experience how most dresses are designed for slimmer bodies or narrow shoulders.

Thankfully Madeleine is here with a keen eye. She double-checks on the sizes for each dress from hem line to sleeves before handing Marrow the appropriate size. The kid gives him a thumb’s up in approval, assuring Marrow as he goes back to the dressing stall.

“Maddie knows what she’s doing,” Pito proudly states, “she loves helping everyone with their dresses.”

“So I’m not the only guy around here that likes dressing up?” Qrow meant for a lighthearted tone but apparently Pito got a faraway look as she smiled at the sight of her daughter reorganizing the clothing racks.

She needed a stepstool but nonetheless, Madeleine worked diligently.

“My little girl wants to make the world be as pretty as she believes it to be,” Pito said.

There was a small hitch in her throat at the ‘little girl’ part. It paired with the watery eyes Pito attempted to brush away.

“She sounds a lot like my kids,” Qrow shared.

The mother sends him a knowing look, something that Summer once had when the girls were cradled in her arms. That sweet security and peace and Qrow is slowly learning that feeling too.

They wrap things up. Qrow returns to his regular clothes, an overcoat where the entire back section is gone so that his wings don’t have any troubles.

Marrow hasn’t come out when Qrow finishes paying. Pito has a worried look but Qrow gestures to let him handle this.

Knocking gently on the door, he calls out, “Hey, Marrow, how’re you doing?”

“Okay,” is said too fast, too caught off guard but Marrow tries again with a calmer tone, “They actually do fit, well most of them I think but…”

“I’m not asking about the clothes, kid.”

There a pause and while Qrow is worrying, he also realizes that oh.

So this is what’s like to be Clover in these conversations. But Marrow is not Qrow. Perhaps they have similar experiences, but the dog faunus eventually opens up.

“I’ve never really wore anything that was for me. It was always a uniform and that was safe because at first glance, I belonged to a group.”

“I get that, kid,” he said, “Blake too.”

“I know that,” Marrow’s voice is a bit muffled but a twinge of exhaustion is there. “I just want to be confident in all of me. Like how you wear dresses or like how Blake cut her hair.” His words get softer but they make it through the door, “And May… You’re all so proud being yourselves.”

Again, words fail him. Qrow has those old gut instincts to argue against Marrow’s claim. The rooted knots in his stomach would actually hurt at someone else’s belief in him.

But those tangled threads aren’t holding strength as Qrow thinks of his pride.

Sure he has pride in his skill, in earning the two month chip of his sobriety, and most of all, pride in his kids.

As for self-pride, huh, is that’s what Qrow’s been walking with? Has that been intertwining with his acceptance and eagerness to be happy again?

Unfortunately now is not the time to have a revelation or self-reflection, Marrow is spiraling and Qrow doesn’t have much familiarity on this. He always thought as Marrow as a faunus with a strong sense of identity but Qrow should’ve know better, after all he hid behind thinly veiled self-loathing thoughts.

Qrow can’t get another word out, any idea of comforting Marrow is unsure when he hears the shop’s entrance chime.

It must be luck, good or bad, it doesn’t matter because guess who’s here.

Fiona Thyme is occupied with talking to Pito while May Marigold meets his gaze.

‘And May,’ Marrow had trailed off with, as if she’s the most important person to think about.

Without a second thought, Qrow walks up to the ladies.

“Hi Qrow,” begins Fiona. She’s the most familiar with him sense they’re the ones who had to keep Robyn and Clover from sassing each other when they meet up. She tilts her head, reading into his quiet turmoil, “Is something wrong?”

His frown isn’t reassuring as he turns to May, “Marrow’s in there.”

All he did was point to the dressing rooms and then May was already speed walking there, a panicked and vulnerable expression on her face.

The shop may have that idle instrumental music playing lowly in the background but he hears May gently say, “Marrow, it’s me, will you let me in?”

Five seconds of stasis and holding their breaths, the door opens and May is let in.

Qrow usually doesn’t look too deep into his kids’ relationships, usually because none of them are subtle about their fluffy affection or bad pickup lines. But for Marrow, he was Clover’s kid so Qrow had that innate urge to get on the good side of his boyfriend’s friends.

The other Ace Operatives still claim their acquaintances at best but that’s an utterly proven wrong at the end of the day. Each one of them cares about Clover in their own way and expressed their varying degree of enthusiasm and care for the Beacon hunters.

As for the rookie, Marrow got quite comfortable with Qrow’s flock, specifically Jaune. That is what Qrow is trying to wrap up to, Marrow and Jaune had that coffee thing and then suddenly Marrow’s joining them in game night.

So in shorter words, Qrow cares about Marrow but also wondering what the kid’s gonna do about his feelings for two people. Well according to Fiona who’s here to pick up her dress, the Happy Huntresses are all going so Marrow’s gonna be in a room with two of his crushes.

Just a normal day in Atlas.

They spend an hour longer in the shop helping Marrow decide on an outfit. Well, mostly May and Madeleine because the dog faunus trusts them. Although if Qrow guided the little bird away from the red dresses then that’s the least he can do to prevent Jaune from getting bittersweet flashbacks.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, Jaune wouldn’t be the only one reminiscing about the fallen warrior of reds and golds.

By the time they finish shopping and thanking James’ credit card that either May or Fiona tried to steal, the two huntsmen were back at the academy as the sun sinks into the horizon.

Marrow wasn’t too elated to hang out with anyone so he retreated to his room hugging his garment bag tightly, a relieved smile on his face.

That leaves Qrow to handle his usual amount of rambunctious kids who demand his attention.

The moment they spy the garment bag carefully tucked under his arm, they turned into vultures.

“You got an outfit? Put it on, put it on!” Ruby demanded, bouncing in her feet and just like Madeleine, made grabby hands at him.

Weiss, the opposite of childish joy, pouted, “We were all supposed to go to my tailor together!”

“But we did that other day,” Jaune complained, slumped over the couch with Nora. He’s on warren duty, keeping the thunderbolt out of the kitchen while Ren and Oscar prepare dinner.

“It’s called final fittings.”

“Is that what you call taking three hours making sure your gear is lit free?” Blake teases.

Her eyes are still glued to her book as her fuzzy socked feet are swung over the couch’s arm. Her toes tap the air, meaning she’s at a good part. Blake’s head is rested upon Yang’s lap whose idly combing her hands in the cat faunus’ hair while Yang watches the superhero movie marathon Jaune has been raving about.

“Ha, nice one,” Nora grinned and while Jaune is snickering, she tries to escape his hold.

Nora could easily threaten to hurt Jaune or actually hurt Jaune but she loves handholding too much to do that to her leader. That and Qrow has given her the parental disapproving lecture about throwing threats around.

So far her escape plan is to slitter away but from pure instinct or insight, Ren looks away from his work to just stare at her with a raised brow. Nora sinks back to the couch, just in time to watch the superhero with slow motion powers use his powers for the greater good.

“Food’s almost ready,” Oscar announces and turns off the stove, “I don’t think Qrow should risk his suit against the curry.”

“Dress actually,” he corrects, walking pass his starry eyed niece and his grinning niece and a bunch of other children that have decided to look up to him. “You four,” he points to the couch potatoes, “go set the table.”

He feels a little vindicated when they listen.

Only Weiss and Ruby follow him to his room, the one originally assigned to him but some of his clothes have migrated to Clover’s room. Still, it’s nice to have a place close to the kids. It was also a hassle to be too near to the kids’ dorms simply due to how they are in the mornings.

The two coffee machines and one tea kettle are not enough for the eight youths.

Qrow gently places the dress bag in his closet, Weiss and Ruby instantly drawn to it while he searches for some more casual clothes. Look, Nora can be a messy eater, there’s a good chance curry will be flying thanks to his semblance.

When he’s trying to find a matching set of socks, a futile mission, he hears his niece and her girlfriend unzip the bag and start to wow about his dress.

“It’s so pretty!”

“Definitely a lot more tasteful than I expected.”

“You’re just jealous that your dress doesn’t have this much detail.”

“I’ve worn countless of dresses, Ruby, and a good number of them are up to this quality. I am not jealous.”

“Nice to hear your approval then,” Qrow said. Weiss quirks a smile at him, glad that her intentions are known. “Hey, can you help me with this thing too?”

His left wing hasn’t been feeling great against the cold evening air. Maybe a feather or two were misaligned during his dressing and left a patch of rough wing skin exposed to the chills. The wing wasn’t cooperating when he tried to remove his coat.

“Of course,” Weiss stepped behind him. The first time he asked for her help, her hands shook a bit, too nervous to mess up but determined to do the task. This time there isn’t any jitter or nerves, just helpful and careful.

Once the heavy coat is off, he reaches over to find the ruffled feathers.

“Thanks,” he said to the ice princess who ironically has a soft expression that’s melting his heart.

“You’re welcome, Uncle Qrow,” Weiss replies.

A high pitch squeal exits Ruby’s mouth despite the fact that her hands are clasped over, like that can tamper her excitement. The giddiness radiating off of her matches the squishiness in Qrow.

That squishy feeling always happens whenever his kids, aside from Yang and Ruby, call him uncle.

The first time each one said it was a total shock and it’s even more heartfelt knowing they still continue to do so.

Weiss rolls her eyes, like that can downplay the emotional impact she caused to the family.

“Come on Ruby,” she reminds, “there’s dinner waiting for us.”

She grabs Ruby’s hand and whisks her away. Ruby gives her uncle a parting thumb’s up.

“Clover’s going to love it!”

…oh boy, Qrow needs to mentally prepare for that.

#fair game #qrow branwen #clover ebi #faunus qrow #atlas ball #my fic #rwby fic #rwby

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imnotcameraready · 5 years ago

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chivalry is dead (9 [intermission 1])

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY S O N !!!!!! we’re wrapping up this leg of chivalry in celebration !!!!!!!!

WARNINGS: cursing/swearing, a lot of self-hatred, scheming lmao — i think that's it, but please let me know if i've forgotten any!!

WORDS: 993 (its a shortie uwu)

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST!

@starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda@askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil

enjoy <3 <3 <3 and enjoy the roman screenshots i’m using as line breaks

“I don't want to say I'm too cool....But I'm just too sad for you fools...And I feel like you don't get me...”

“Shut up with that stupid song. How long has it been?”

“Only a day. Long enough for the boss man to feel it.”

“Son of a bitch. What the hell’re we going to do?”

“....”

“Hey! Hey, answer me, Roman, you stupid fucking moron, what the hell should we do?”

“I’m thinking. And I thought we weren’t using names, Roman.”

“Oh, fuck off with that! We need to speed this up. Ignore the Sides, just start hunting the others!”

“You’ll be upset if you don’t see the Sides.”

“SO I would be devastated, but if this all takes too long, I–We can’t hurt Thomas. You don’t want me to.”

“....We can invite everyone here. Stage a big event, bring all the others under one roof. You’re going to need bait to make all the Sides and all the others agree but that’s probably the fastest way to guarantee attendance. Make it a ball or something.”

“I’ve got you.”

“You think they care about me? Dragon. You know better.”

“Fine. Who do you have in mind?”

“Child.”

“Wow.”

“If they’ve met him, then they probably love him. The others would all come. The Sides wouldn’t let any of the others come alone. It’s….it makes sense.”

“You’re ready to off Child? Is having me around affecting your thought process, my Creative Captive, or are you finally ready to continue this game of cat and mouse?”

“Shut up. I just want this over. Thomas needs us in one piece, whatever that piece looks like.”

“It’s going to be a beautiful piece. The other sides are going to adore me.”

“You mispronounced abhor.”

“Fuck off. I’m going to sleep. Don’t keep us up.”

“Of course, your Heinous.”

Thomas drummed his fingers on the computer’s keyboard, humming along to the song he was listening to. He’d been in a Disney mood lately, so he was listening to the second compilation, and had let intuition lead him in his humming and whistling and occasional singing.

The big downside, though, was that he couldn’t actually think of any good ideas. Scratch that — he hadn’t had ANY ideas.

He had gone on two walks, driven around the city, sat in the park and pondered life, and he still had absolutely no idea what he wanted to do for his next anything. In theory, he was planning for the next Sanders Sides episode. Well, in ultra-theory, he was editing the next Sanders Sides episode’s script, but you can’t edit a script that wasn’t written yet! In practice, he’d been scrolling through Twitter for the past few hours. Tumblr for a nondescript number of hours before that, with a break at around 11 for lunch and 6 for dinner. He just stared at the blank page for a few minutes, then flicked over to another tab to procrastinate.

Thomas didn’t even think anything of it until he glanced at the corner of his computer and saw that it was fifteen past two a.m.

That couldn’t be right. Thomas squinted at his computer, then at the window.

It was dark. Not a sunset-soon dark, but a its-the-middle-of-the-night dark.

Goodness gracious, how had he wasted the entire day without noticing. He closed the blank document tab with a sigh.

Then he moved his leg off of the table.

Pain shot through the appendage, stiff and frozen as a board. Thomas groaned, slouching further into the couch while he waited for the pins and needles feeling wear off. Yikes. He hadn’t even noticed.

Perhaps. He could just sleep here.

He squinted. That sure as hell was an option, and it wouldn’t be the first time. Why not?

….No. No, if he did nothing else of merit today, then he should at least put himself to sleep in his own bed. Right?

Thomas looked around his living room, as though expecting validation from someone that this was the correct decision, and found none. Of course he’d find none, though. Wasn’t like there were more people in his apartment.

He closed his laptop as soon as the screen blackened, setting it aside and sitting upright. Slowly, he stretched his arms upward, hissing through his teeth. It was just an off-day — tomorrow would be better. He had actual plans. Sure, it was just dinner with some friends, but still. Plans.

Either way, they weren’t due to start filming the next Sides’ episode until Monday, so he had a few days to get out of this funk, whatever it was.

Oh my God. The Sides. That’s probably why he instinctually looked up, how did he forget that the Sides existed.

You’re just tired, Sanders. C’mon, upsy daisy.

Thomas picked up the laptop and stood, starting for the stairway. His nightly routine was reflex enough that he sped through it. Finally, he set his laptop down on his bedside table and rolled over, elongated phone cord pulling with him.

He couldn’t deny that he felt a little incomplete. Like something was holding back his ability to process things, to think clearly and quickly. It reminded him of those song edits on Tumblr, where the song was played behind a wall. Hopefully it’d pass on its own. If it didn’t, though, then he might have to call up the Sides and ask.

Why didn’t he just do that now?

Thomas frowned at his phone. It may be night, but if he was awake, it was likely some of them were awake too. Wouldn’t that be the most logical thing to do?

Probably? He couldn’t tell.

And he didn’t really want to….

And that settled it, he guessed. He set an alarm for 7 a.m. and put his phone on the table. He resolved, internally, to call on the Sides tomorrow morning and ask if there was anything wrong. Hopefully they’d have an answer.

#chivalry au #fic #my fic #roman #thomas #thomas sanders #roman sanders #ts roman #ts thomas #sanders sides #ts fanfic #im going to use screenshots of roman as linebreaks from now on #they provide. a good atmosphere #and now you all have to look at roman more often #nyeheheheheheee

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officialthiamlibrary · 7 years ago

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Welcome to another profile on Behind the Screens, giving you personal insight on who your favorite creators are and what they do when they aren’t wowing you with their creative ability.

On this profile, we’ll learn more about Tagan, also known in our pack as ThiamFresh or CaptainMintyFresh. The author of Airplanes, Sweet Talking, and a plethora of other Thiam prompts and stories, Tagan shares bits about her life, her writing process, her ideal road trip buddy, and her tips for creating tension-filled relationships.

Hi, Tagan! Let’s start off simple. Using a sentence, where the word count is either equal to or less than the number of letters in your two favorite Teen Wolf characters’ name, tell us about yourself.

Theo Raeken + Derek Hale = 19: I’m Tagan. Love to write and act. I have a terrible sense of humour. Generally an accident prone mess.

Talking about Teen Wolf characters, which five characters would be on your Ultimate Paintball/Laser Tag team and why?

Theo, Malia, Allison, Liam, Stiles. Right, so I want Theo because like boy’s a master tactician/manipulator and he’s ruthless. Boy would 100% shoot 10 year olds to win and that’s the kind of person I want on my paintball team. Malia, again, she would have no qualms about just decimating the other team. Allison because she is an amazing shot; her role would be stealthing her way through the field to take people out/sniping everyone else while the ‘ground team’ does the closer stuff. Liam because he’s athletic and competitive. Stiles because he’s good at coming up with plans, plus...you know..he’d be really good bait for the other team.

Omg he would be! Now, before those characters blessed us with their existence, we found love and OTPs in other ones. What would you say were your first ships, way back in the day?

I’m not sure if this counts but Ant and Dec? I thought they were married but if not, then Monica and Chandler or Spike and Buffy. The first fanfiction I read was for Dramione.

And, how did you land in the Thiam Family? What about Theo x Liam drew you in?

I really liked their scenes in 6A (And some of the scenes in 5 but honestly, I hated five as a whole and watched it out of duty more than anything so I just didn’t have the enthusiasm to get into a ship.) Theo was the first bit of 6A that i actually really liked and a lot of that was just down to his sass and a lot of it was directed at Liam. And then the car key scene had me cackling with laughter. There scenes were just..fun in a way the rest of the season lacked, at least to me. So I was pretty invested in their whole dynamic and then there was ‘Being the bait’ and ‘do you know how to ride a horse’ and I was pretty sold. I went to search for Thiam content then but didn’t find any so just went back to writing the fics for other fandoms I was doing then and didn’t really mind.

But then 6B came out and the second I saw Theo on screen I was thinking “wow i can’t wait for him to see Liam and realised I was a bit more sold on them than I had planned to be and so I searched the tag again and went onto AO3 and read the few fics there but there really weren’t many.

I’d gotten stuck on all the fics I was doing for other fandoms and so put up a request for prompts and Thiamkey gave me a bunch of headcanons and prompts and then people seemed to like them and started sending them in and then I just...talked to people and they were all lovely and we had all this amazing content coming out every week from the show and more people climbed aboard the ship. More fics being written, more prompts being sent.

Honestly, i just wanted to dip my toe in the water, write a fic or two while I waited for other people to write their own but then i suddenly found myself up to my neck in Thiam and not regretting a second of it.

Let’s jump into writing. Before we dive into the Thiam pool, if your writing process was a person, describe him or her. What does he or she do? Wear? Listen to?

My writing process as a person would probably be a toddler in a room full of toys but instead of playing with them, she just hiding under furniture and has five different conversations with five different imaginary friends at one time. She’s messy, with chocolate ice cream smeared over her face and her hair tangled into nots. She has no real idea about what’s happening but is excited none-the-less. Will have constant tantrums and cry then be excitedly squealing in the next second. ACDC would be playing in the background.

And your writing Kryptonite? How do you fight it?

Procrastination. I’m really bad at focusing on any one thing. Like, if i’m watching a new episode of a show, I’ll play solitaire in the corner of the screen because otherwise, I’m too unfocused to be focused. If that makes any sense. So when I’m writing I have to have a conversation open with someone or have just done a puzzle or something that’s fried my brain a bit so I can focus on writing, but I often end up getting too focused on the other thing and not getting any writing done.

As for how to fight it, I honestly have no idea? I just kinda flit around and hope for the best.

Well, clearly it works for you, so cheers! Do you write novels or short stories about original characters, as well? If so, can you share one you’re particularly passionate about?

Yes i dooo :) I write books. So I’ve written three so far and have like 12 in the works. (There’s a YA series in there which is why there’s so many) um..I’m not sure what i’m particularly proud of so i’m just pasting the first scene I found in my emails which is a scene from a zombie book I wrote called Autumn

Autumn Excerpt:

Sometimes I could forget, for a moment. When the sun was high in the sky and we were strolling through an open field. Weapons held loose in hand, rucksacks tossed over single shoulders. When we were throwing a bottle of water between us, talking about now pointless things, sharing stories and silly jokes. Laughs etched onto our faces as we'd forget all about it. About the past months and the horror we've seen, the people we've lost.

But then a stray would stumble into the field or we’d hear a distant scream and it would come rushing back. Hands quickly going back to locked tightly arrowed our weapons, smiles slipping from our faces.There were also times I couldn't forget, not even for a second. When we lay on rough roof tops, looking up at the dark sky willing to sleep, to get lost in a dream but I could hear it, the scratching of nails against brick, the snap of teeth hitting together and the low, guttural moans. At these times I’d think, this will be the last sound I ever hear. The huffing of the dead, the wet slapping and slurping as they tore and chewed on flesh.

On these nights I’d try to comfort myself, Say that that nightmare sound wouldn't be what I heard, I prayed for a gunshot, dreamed of that rather than the sounds bellow me. Because, these days, you go out one of two ways and a gunshot was everyone's silver lining.

When you mentioned YA series, my back straightened haha. What’s the title of your series? A synopsis for what it’d be about?

Oh god, so the longest one I have to find a new title to because it’s called Gifted and is about people with superpowers and now there’s that The Gifted show out about people with powers so that’s a bit awkward.

Me and my friend wrote a webseries when we were like 14/15 and although we only filmed a tiny bit of it, we actually had the whole thing planned out. Three seasons, 40 episodes and when we stopped working on it I was like “dude can i turn this into a book series?” and he was like “Yeah go ahead.” So I started writing a bit of it.

Gifted follows the story of three childhood friends as they get powers and deal with all the usual coming of age stuff while getting caught up with other people with powers. The first book will be done in alternating POV between the three friends, but that will slowly expand to incorporate the more important characters met along the way.

There’s lots of whump, teenagers dealing with depression and PTSD. Basically i tried to write a new fairly light hearted story about kids coming of age and dealing with typical super power problems, but then accidentally put them through the ringer and turned it into a mass of character study and angst.

Final question before the barrage of Thiam questions lol. Characters often find themselves in situations they aren’t sure they can get themselves out of. When was the last time you were in a place like that and what did you do?

The last time I found myself in a situation I couldn’t get out of was this summer and I cried a lot and then made scathing jokes to the reasons I couldn’t get out of the situation with a sunny smile that left the situations unaware that I was trying to figure out how to word a letter that told the situations they need never situate themselves anywhere near me ever again. (I have yet to send those letters.)

Wow, yeah, I’ve been there before. I hope you find the strength/courage to send those letters one day. Since we’re talking about personal experiences, would you say that any of your life has poured over into your Thiam writing?

The only one I can currently think of is the scene in Sweet Talking where Theo’s tired and listening to Liam, Mason and Corey hang out and thinking about how he’ll never really fit in.

My brother had a bunch of friends round before I wrote that chapter, or at least that part of that chapter. I moved away from my home town/all my friends (there’s literally 1 friend but whatever) 3 years ago and haven’t made any friends since. My brother keeps telling me his friends can be my friends but I‘m always the odd man out and it’s just really lonely so I was definitely channeling some inner loneliness into that.

Let’s say you could escape it all and venture on a major Airplanes-esque road trip. Who would you take (real or fictional)? Where would you go? And what is one shenanigan the two of you would run into?

The Queen. I just think it’d be really funny, not to mention you could get in like everywhere for free.

Honestly I think if the queen wasn’t available, I’d want to go with @thiamfanartlove. We’ve only been talking a little while, but we get on really well and I feel like we’d be equally ready to do a bunch of dumb stuff on our journey. I’d want to go around Europe. Hit up @thiamkey on the way and a few other people.

We would 100% get into a fight at some point because neither of us have any chill. Like, someone would insult one of us and the other would just be down to fight and then it would turn into an all out brawl with us against the world. (We would lose, but it’d be a good story, at least.)

Truth. And one story we’d demand all the details on. You’ve talked a lot about some trivia, inspirations and spoilers for Airplanes in your livestream, which are linked here. So, my questions to you are more about the technique side of your writing, since it’s always amazing to learn from you all.

You incorporate great character studies into your stories. What would you say are some tricks you use to portray what your characters are thinking?

I think, just finding a way to resonate with the character you’re writing. Even if it’s a character you think you have nothing in common with, I promise you somewhere there’s a memory you have that fits something they’ve felt.

Liam’s POV was really weird to me at the start of airplanes so I chose to focus on something I could personally understand. Which was the need for freedom but anxiety at what it might cost the other people if you take it and that..kind of self hatred for the anger issues and wishing everything could change. You find a common thread and write that and soon enough you find yourself understanding the character, even in situations or with feelings you’ve never personally been affected by.

I don’t know if that makes any sense? But basically yeah, find common ground and that one scene you can write and then work from there.

And, the tension between your characters. How do you build that tension when it comes to relationships to avoid the instalove phenomenon?

ANGST! I dunno, the easiest way for me to slow down the instalove is the characters being more preoccupied with other stuff than their love lives. I think just..keeping it as real as possible. In my personal experience, love at first sight is rare. You can’t fall in love with someone until you know them so a lot of it is just..giving the characters these little moments that bring them closer together, making them have those conversations that you’d have with your best friend and just slowly drawing closer and closer together as you get more comfortable. Especially in Airplanes when it first starts Liam’s in a pretty bad place mentally. He’s really drained and feeling the weight of everything he’s been through so his mind was just so far away from romance that it seemed wrong to have him noticing any feelings for Theo until he was a bit happier and had healed a bit. Not to mention all the baggage the two have.

Having a character go through that process of questioning their sexuality is fun as well. I mean, Liam so far in canon has been written as straight and that’s a lot of fun to play with because you have that whole realisation process where he has to figure out that what he feels for Theo isn’t entirely platonic and that it’s different from how he feels about Mason or any of the other guys in the show and that can be a really challenging thing to do. Not even in the ‘Oh coming out is scary’ way just in the heteronormative straight until proven otherwise sort of way.

I mean i’m Bi and that took me like...21 years to realise? And it wasn’t that I didn’t have little crushes on girls before it was just I’d never noticed them for what they were. For me the only reason it clicked was because I realised I was Asexual and that my ‘well I don’t want to bone a girl so I’m not gay’ was kinda pointless thing when I realised that I didn’t even want to bone guys. It was just what was expected. Once I took that away and sat down and thought about it, it was suddenly very clear to me. But most characters won’t have that specific nudge so it can be a fairly long road.

Just, to stop instalove think about what they’re going through, think about how you fall in love because the realisation may be instant but the build up is usually gradual. You notice it in one dumb moment but to actually get there, you have a long list of bits where you get to know the other person and you deal with your own personal issues and stuff.

For building tension, it’s again just building up that relationship. You start off small with touches that make the heart speed up before they’re more comfortable and grow closer. Honestly, the best way is just to focus on the friendship first and the romantic relationship second because then you get the familiarity and that’s when you can start having your characters realise there’s something else there and that suddenly makes all these little touches a lot more terrifying and confusing as they try to figure out what it means.

That’s perfect though. And the gritty realization that most people have about those they’ve fallen in love with since they’ve usually gotten close to that person by that point is terrifying and emotional, so I can now see where that tension comes from! Anything else you’d like to say, in general. The floor is all yours.

Umm okay. I am always accepting prompts but it willlllll take me a while to get to them because i have quite a few and don’t really go chronologically but more where the inspiration hits and sometimes, like with airplanes, that’s my own story rather than a prompt but my ask box is always always open for more prompts.

Upcoming works, I have no idea. Right now, I just want to finish airplanes and then see where I go after that. I do want to play around in the airplanes universe a little bit more after the fic is done with, delving into Theo’s POV for some of the missing scenes and I also might do a short pack scene where you have everyone realise Theo and Liam are gone in the morning in Idaho.

The reason I like sharing my work is because I like the idea that maybe I can help someone and maybe that sounds dumb--but to me--reading is a major escapism technique. I used it a lot when I was younger and this fic and the comments I’ve gotten have just made me so insanely happy because it seems like, maybe for a few people, I’ve reached my goal in helping someone through a bad day or to relax and just forget their worries for a while. And that’s the whole reason I like writing and that’s the first time I’ve ever really felt that and I literally cried when someone told me my updates helped their shitty week before because...that’s the whole reason I want to get into writing or acting as a career and to see I’d achieved that goal was just awesome.

If you’ve sent me a nice message on tumblr and I haven’t replied, it’s not because I didn’t read it or I don’t like it or whatever you might think. It’s because i’m a hoarder and now have a folder wth screen shots of all the nice messages in it, so that I can look at them when I’m having a nice day.

Really, I just want to say that I see everything you guys send or make or comment and I appreciate every single one and just thank you. Life’s been tough for me lately but getting to write for a fandom as accepting and kind as this one is really really amazing and your messages have picked me up when I’ve felt worthless so many times. Just keep being awesome Thiam fandom! And thank you for being so welcoming and supportive of everyone that joins.

Aww thank you! We’re so happy to have you in our fandom and to have Airplanes, your prompts, and other stories. I, and others have shared the same sentiment, agree with you that this fandom is amazing and so supportive of one another that it almost seems surreal! So, go us, lovely pack!

To finish us off, what’s next for you? Both in life and in the writing world?

For life, I’m hoping to get some acting roles for student films and stuff. Get myself a laptop so I can write more and a camera (eventually) so I can film the scripts I’ve wrote. I also want to send some of my books to publishers and generally try to make a life for myself out of the two things I love doing.

I have a bunch of books I’m working on and I really want to finish writing my YA series because it seems like it could be quite fun once I get a bit more into it.

With that, BTS presents ThiamFresh to you! As always, you can keep the conversation going; respond to any of her thoughts, ask more questions, send a prompt, or simply swing by for a chat with Tagan anytime. To dive into her works, check out both her AO3 and Tumblr.

Tumblr: thiamfresh

AO3: captainmintyfresh

Ask Box: thiamfresh ask

A huge thank you to Tagan for being so open to answering our questions and sharing her tips on character stories and building tension.

Some great news, for everyone who enjoys this series, we’ve decided to run Behind the Screens every Thursday. And, we’d love your help in doing it!

Have a Thiam Creator you fan over, from any platform (AO3, Tumblr, Wattpad, Instagram, FFN, etc). Please send us their names. Bonus points if you include any questions you’re dying to ask them. Likewise, if you as the creator, would like to be a part of the Behind the Screens series, give us a shout too! We’d love to get to know you, as well.

Hasta Luego!

#thiam #behind the screens #teenwolf #thiamfresh #officialthiamlibrary

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mooncalfed · 7 years ago

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I Have Listened To Every Lie : Chapter 4

Previously: Chapter 3

Taehyung is lovely. Their lunch passes easily and effortlessly, and Nara takes great comfort in the way he finds humor in everything. Though reticent, she manages to give just enough of herself to ensure that she has a seat partner for the rest of the semester. Pleased and relieved is an understatement.

“Where are you off to now?” She asks politely as she takes out some baby wipes from her bag.

“I’m going home.”

Nara nods. “Same. Well, I’ll be off then.” She cleans her fingers with the wipes, and after delicately folding the used material, she places it on the corner of her tray of food and stands up. While she is grabbing her bag she sneaks a glance at Taehyung, and on finding a peculiar smile on his face, she flushes.

“What?” She curls a loose hair back behind her ear, suddenly feeling exposed.

He grins, eyes dancing with mirth. “Nothing, I’ve just never seen someone as pedantic about hygiene as you are.”

“Oh, well-” Nara is about to say that she was taught to sanitise after eating in public places, but at the last second she realises how freakish that might sound ad only manages to awkwardly end her sentence with “…oh.”

There is a beat of strange silence, both parties knowing that Nara is withholding something.

Nara mentally berates herself, but pushes on. “Well, I’ll see you next week then.”

Taehyung’s shoulders relax significantly, accepting her olive branch. “Yeah, sure.”

She nods, gives him a small but genuine smile and then turns around to walk away, but after a few steps realises that Taehyung is still beside her, and matches her pace.

Suddenly a cold sweat envelopes her. Surely he couldn’t be heading towards -

“Are you going to the bus stop as well?” Taehyung asks cheerfully.

Oh no. Nara wants to cry.

“Yes I am.” She replies calmly.

Her mind reels. The bus stop is merely a cover for the fact that Nara drives to and from university every day in her spectacularly expensive black Rolls Royce. Every time she leaves class she makes her way to the bus stop, hovers for a few minutes and then disappears to the nearby car park. She doesn’t want people to associate her with wealth, and even though it’s a ridiculous idea to think that people would follow her to the car, she knows that by wearing expensive clothing and having expensive bags she already is drawing attention. Given that her face has been on magazines and the television (albeit in her husband’s shadow), blending is almost of higher importance to her than actually doing well in class.

“Which one?” Taehyung asks, “I get on the bus near the chemistry building.”

It’s her lucky day, his stop isn’t anywhere near hers. Nara sighs mutely with relief. Of course there are different bus stops at a university of this size. She mutters a silent prayer to whatever forces are protecting her.

“Oh, I’m at the stop near the law building.”

Taehyung gives her another odd look. “Then you should’ve turned right a few moments ago…”

“Right!” Nara says, “right. Sorry I was just thinking about stuff.”

Grimacing at her lame excuse, she waves to Taehyung and quickly breaks off from him. She doesn’t want to look at his bewildered expression any longer than she has to. Not waiting for his reply, she picks up the pace to the “bus stop”.

A grain of guilt blooms within her. Taehyung is a sweet boy, and Nara feels awful after not only what was probably the most awkward lunch of his life but then also deceiving him about catching public transport, but she knows she doesn’t have a choice. Now is not the time to be telling her intimate truths to strangers.

One day, she promises herself. One day I’ll tell him.

A shrill ring rips through the air from somewhere deep inside the recesses of her handbag, and shaking herself from her thoughts Nara dips her hand between the many books and readings she has and searches for it.

[Yoongi Calling]

Even the sight of his name chills her spirit. Only, she isn’t cold, but rather warm and flushed from latent frustration and anger. It takes all her composure to accept the call, and when she hears his voice - his beautiful, smooth voice - all other emotions are trumped by an unexpected punch of longing that leaves her eyes hot and wet.

“Hello?”

“Dinner tonight?”

He’s polite enough to pose it as a question, but Nara knows otherwise. It is a condition of their “separation” that they are pictured together on a “date” once every fortnight, and considering their last meeting was exactly two weeks ago, neither can deny that they have been procrastinating.

“What time?”

“Six.”

Nara raises an eyebrow. Yoongi always eats dinner at seven.

“Are you busy?”

The silence on the other line shocks her. Or rather, she shocks herself. It’s none of my business where he is anymore, she chides herself, her melancholy totally overtaken by embarrassment.

“Nevermind.” She mutters. “Six. Where?”

“The Bistro. Make sure you drive to the house first. We’ll go to the restaurant together.”

She rolls her eyes. Image, he’s all about image.

“Don’t be late. Get to the house at five-thirty.”

This pisses her off enormously. How dare he accuse her of tardiness. “As if I’m ever late!”

On the other line, Yoongi sighs.

Again with the condescension! All traces of sorrow fly quickly from her heart.

“Haven’t we done it that way every time? What do you think I am, an idiot?” She snaps, and hangs up on him.

Mood thoroughly spoiled, Nara ditches any attempt at waiting by the bus stop and marches straight into the car park beside it, finding her car easily and ripping open the door. She dumps her bag on the passenger seat and with a roar of the engine she pulls out of her park. Her fingers are tight on the wheel as she weaves in and out of traffic, mind whirling and heart racing.

I’m going to give it to that bastard, she vows as she pulls into the private car park of her apartment building.

I’m going to rip him a new one, she fumes as she exits the car, slams the door and stalks to the elevator.

“I’m gonna strangle him I swear to God.” she mutters as the silver doors slide open and she shoves her key in the front door.

She wrenches the door open and with as much overarm strength as she can muster, throws the keys so that they skitter and slide with a harsh grating tinkle against the marble floor.

Micha pokes her head out from the kitchen, “How was cl-”

“I’m gonna KILL him!” Nara screeches, and stomps towards her bedroom. Blind with rage, she completely ignores Micha as she furiously dumps her bag on her bed.

“I’m taking a bath,” she declares, “do NOT disturb me.”

Micha, silent but not taken aback, retreats back into the kitchen.

“Wow.” she mouths, and swallows her mouthful of apple.

There is something odd about dinner today, Nara muses soberly over her baked fish. The usual stalemate that she and Yoongi are usually engaged in over their dinners has been replaced by something more careful, more hesitant, almost… bashful?

Usually their conversations consist of low, veiled insults coupled with stiff smiles - their one way of at least looking like they’re speaking to each other in front of restaurant staff, but today–

“How are you doing in class?”

He says it so softly she almost doesn’t hear him. In fact she treats it as a figment of her imagination until she looks up, and realises that he is staring at her with an expectant brow raised.

“Oh.” She flushes. “Well, we’re reading Dracula next week. It’s actually very interesting; I wasn’t too familiar with the origins of the vampire trope but now I can see that the modern stereotype comes from completely from Stoker. But I find that the characters are so much more than what people remember the novel for; I didn’t expect such complexity in characters other than Dracula and Van Helsing–”

She stops, suddenly aware of how passionate her answer is.

Sneaking a glance at her husband, she finds that Yoongi isn’t even pretending to listen. He’s playing with his food, unoccupied hand relaxed and in an open fist, while the other pokes at the steak on his plate.

The sight is incredibly wounding and embarrassing and yet Nara can’t help the wash of relief that courses through her, because though she has every right to be angry at being ignored, her response to his question was far more intimate than she expected, and she feels safer knowing that he missed this vulnerable moment.

But Nara wants this dinner to end, and so she settles instead for anger.

“So I met a guy today.”

She knows what his reaction will be; Yoongi may not be an overtly possessive person, but Nara knows that underneath the facade of competence and ambivalence lies a potent jealous streak.

Yoongi’s head snaps up and Nara smirks to herself.

“What’s his name?”

“Why?” Nara bites, suddenly defensive. “So you can hire a PI and ruin his life?”

His eyes flash menacingly “Just making sure my wife isn’t caught frolicking around with a high-school graduate”.

Ah, there’s nasty Yoongi, Nara smiles. This I can do.

“But darling I thought it was clear that you were the one sowing wild oats?”

A muscle in Yoongi’s eye twitches. Nara is thrilled.

He looks coolly down at his meat. “Since you’re going to be difficult then you better get used to having a tail on you, and your friend too.”

Completely unprepared for such an escalation, the blood rushes from Nara’s face. Was he seriously threatening to have her followed? Suddenly she is overtaken by an immense feeling of guilt - one day into her friendship with Taehyung and she has already used him as bait, and now Yoongi has called her bluff. Nara’s shackles rise.

“You leave Taehyung alone!”

Yoongi looks shocked by her outburst, freezing mid-chew.

Squaring her jaw, Nara stares him down, shooting fire and brimstone from her eyes. She won’t back down for this, she won’t let him take away her first friend. More importantly, she refuses to let her poisonous attachment to Yoongi ruin other people’s lives.

Fully prepared for verbal nuclear war, she sets down her knife and fork and wipes her mouth and slaps the napkin on the table. Yoongi still hasn’t moved.

He blinks a couple of times and Nara opens her mouth to give him a piece of her mind–

“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate of me,” he sighs, hands leaving his cutlery and going to press slow circles on his temples. “I’m a little tired.”

Honesty - another curve ball. In her astonishment Nara can’t help but follow where he leads her, and it is then that she notices the light violet circles under her husband’s eyes, carved into the smoothness of his face. In fact, now that she is really seeing him she notices that his jaw is a little harsher, his fingers a little bonier and his eyes dim and flat.

Nara drops her eyes. She realises that she has played herself for a fool, so blind with feeling that she doesn’t even notice that Yoongi isn’t playing her game. That, in addition with his surprising apology inspires a wave of deep devotion in the recesses of her soul, an emotion she hasn’t felt in so long that it rocks her, and it is all she can do to close her eyes and press back the tears that threaten to overtake her.

I love him, dammit I still love him, Nara thinks to herself, resigned.

She moves to ask him about the company, but just as she does he abruptly stands up, chair almost toppling over as the feet catch on the plush magenta carpet. Yoongi is staring at her, eyes full and throbbing with some emotion she cannot decipher.

“Yoongi, is–”

“Is everything alright, sir?” Their waiter rushes up to their table and completely cuts her off.

Breaking contact with her husband, Nara gives the waiter her best stink-eye as she quietly gathers her purse and stands to mirror her husband.

Upon returning her eyes to Yoongi’s she finds that his orbs have been shed of the feeling they had previously, and now they are so blank she has no option but to look away.

“The meal was fine. Thank you.”

To his credit he waits for her before he leaves the restaurant, but as they walk side by side to Yoongi’s shiny black Lamborghini, Nara can’t help but wonder what it would be like if she reached through the crackling energy between them and locked her hands tightly with his.

This thought occupies her so completely that she misses the way her husband’s eyes dance over her face like a feather falling in the wind.

Usually there is an identifiable point to Nara and Yoongi’s date nights where the tension between them short circuits and they end up fucking like animals in a matter of minutes, but tonight, on a night where both of them are so emotionally drained, Nara is considering going home.

The thought solidifies in her mind as Yoongi opens the front door and she shuffles in.

Maybe I should just get changed and go, Nara thinks, placing her purse down on the table by the door and toeing her shoes off.

As Nara’s resolve strengthens, she turns to tell her husband of her plans until she is once again struck by the same intense stare that he directed upon her at the restaurant. She really cannot read it at all. It squeezes her heart and she so desperately wants to look away because she knows that at any moment she could fool herself into thinking it were look of love.

This thought hurts her enough that she does manage to rip her eyes away from his, and she quickly ditches her plans to change back into comfortable clothes. She just wants to go home.

“I’m leaving. Good night.”

Nara grabs slides her feet back into her shoes and quickly snatches her purse. Yoongi hasn’t moved at all from his position by the door, and as she walks by him to leave she hesitates when a waft of his gentle cologne reaches her nose.

Slowly she brings her head up to look him in the eyes and whatever she finds in there moves her so much that bit by bit she leans in until softness meets softness and their lips are caught in the most tender kiss she has ever received in her life.

Several shared breaths later and she pulls away, the soft smacking sound of their lips barely audible to her pulse thundering away in her ears.

Nara checks for the look again, and catches a squeak in her throat when she sees that Yoongi’s eyes are now alight with lust. She barely has time to be disappointed in how quickly she too is aroused before Yoongi has his hands under her dress and on her ass and her purse is on the ground, hands now occupied by his thick black hair.

They kiss sloppily, angrily; all teeth and tongue and tension. Yoongi grips her thighs in his hands and stumbles to the closest room, catching the both of them on the nearest tea table with one hand on the low glass surface. He breaks the kiss with a dark smirk and turns Nara around to push her over onto the cold, slick table. Nara sighs with anticipation, hands shaking as Yoongi knots his fingers on the sides of her thong and roughly wrenches them down her leg, registering nothing but the throbbing between her legs and the sweat beading on her neck. The jangle of his belt is familiar, and sweet to her ears.

Thoroughly expecting him to dominate her with his cock, Nara lets out a cry of surprise when Yoongi shoves two fingers inside of her tight slit. There’s no time to be embarrassed by how wet she already is. Behind her Yoongi grunts, a sound that shakes her down to her bones.

He presses himself so close to her that she can feel his naked cock sliding up and down her thigh, slick with lubrication - whose exactly she doesn’t know. His fingers press rhythmically against her g-spot without ever pulling out; it’s a trick Yoongi learnt perhaps hours into their honeymoon that has never failed to make Nara scream.

They are both crazy with lust; Nara’s nipples are beading so hard they hurt when they brush against the material of her dress, and behind her Yoongi is grunting, mouth closed and brows kneaded together as sweat trickles down his temple. It’s been weeks since their last tryst - their last date, in fact -, and neither can deny the delight it gives them to connect with the other’s body.

This foreplay lasts for what seems like an eternity until Yoongi suddenly rips his fingers from her core. Nara whimpers but doesn’t say anything. Instead she turns to hook her underwear with one hand and take it off completely, tossing it to the side. Then, bare and ready she pushes her ass back and spreads her knees wide. It’s a wildly vulnerable position for her to be in, but she knows Yoongi loves taking her from behind - their neighbours can probably attest to that.

A large, hot hand grips her waist and Nara breathes in through her nose to prepare herself. She squeezes her eyes closed; she wants to feel everything.

Yoongi’s tip enters her slowly, stretching the lips of her cunt ever so gently. Nara licks her lips and unconsciously moves back to get more of him, but is stopped by the firm hand on her waist which gives her a tight, commanding squeeze.

Pleased at her acquiescence, Yoongi resumes slowly shoving his cock inside of her; there is nothing that he loves more in the world than watching his dick enter Nara’s soft, glistening pink flesh. It’s the single image in his wank bank that can get him off in a matter of minutes. The only thing that makes him cum faster is fucking her in real life.

The moment he bottoms out they both relax viscerally. It’s a familiar position, almost comforting. Nara moves to slip her arms out of her dress and let her breasts hang free in the cool air, grunting as she feels Yoongi move inside of her. Following her lead, Yoongi bends over slightly to cup a breast in each hand, and the moment he grazes a nipple with his thumb he spasms inside of her, a movement that makes Nara shudder.

Yoongi pulls out of her at an achingly slow pace. He makes sure the tip is dancing at her sopping entrance before he re-enters, this time faster, smoother and slicker. Nara squeaks. He grins; Nara has the widest array of sounds from anyone he’s ever fucked in his life, and he loves it.

Their pace picks up. After a couple of steady thrusts, Yoongi picks up his leg and puts it on the tea table, the low height ensuring that not only is Nara practically bent in half, but that Yoongi’s stiff cock is pressed right to the back of her walls, scraping her g-spot with every thrust no matter how much force he puts into it.

“Oh,” Nara groans, “I love this table.”

Yoongi grins at that, and as a reward for her wit amps up the tempo, and soon enough they settle into a fast fucking pace. Nara’s hands slide forward continuously, slick from sweat and the condensation of her breath but she is unperturbed, chasing nothing but her climax. She pushes back against Yoongi and suddenly she is there, and then she is shaking and quaking and nothing matters but the man glued to her back and the magical things his cock is doing to her.

It takes a while for Nara to gather her wits (it has been two weeks after all), but once she does and realises that Yoongi is still erect inside of her, the prospect of a long night ahead makes her stomach tighten deliciously.

Yoongi pulls out of her with a sensual squelch that makes both of them sigh, and when Nara picks herself off the table to shed herself of her clothing, she turns to find her magnificent husband with a hand at the base of his glistening dick, squeezing so hard she can see beads of sweat forming at his crown.

She gives him some time to get his boner under control, and once she sees that the pucker between his brows has subsided somewhat she steps out of her slinky dress and calmly walks to the staircase.

“Be naked by the time you reach the bedroom, please.” She purrs, fully aware of her husband’s burning gaze on her jiggling ass and wet thighs.

Nara turns the corner and pads up the stairs smiling smugly to herself. Even if his heart doesn’t love me, his dick certainly does.

Her hand lightly traces over the familiar wooden arches of the staircase and then the spirals of the french wallpaper of the house they once shared, and her mind settles into an atmosphere that is more wistful. The emotion is even more present when she reaches the closed doors of the master bedroom, and she places her palm lightly against the carved oak of the only place she and her husband ever spoke the same passionate language.

Before Nara can get too carried away, a hot hand reaches around her waist and a chest presses her against the door she was once admiring.

“Ah!” she gasps as Yoongi slides two fingers firm fingers inside of her.

Despite being wet, Nara is slightly less aroused than she was before, but soon she is bucking against the hand that cups her and grinding against the man pulling screams from deep within her belly, where the fire of want is white with intensity.

She enjoys the feel of his digits for just a little longer before she presses down on the door handle and they both stumble into the room, quickly hurtling towards the grandiose bed.

She falls onto the cool linen sheets and smiles drunkenly as Yoongi climbs over her, skin pearly with sweat and cock swaying heavily against his thigh. The feral glow to his countenance has her shuddering with anticipation. He bends down and her smile only grows bigger. Oh how she desires this, his mouth assaulting her neck and his hands kneading her breast. Her skin is tickled by the coolness of the stagnant room, her nipple beading so hard it hurts, but she is quickly warmed by the blistering mouth that brands sticky, dark etchings on, around, and all over her breast.

She has always loved sex with Yoongi because he knows how to make her cum twice; the first time is always fast and rough whereas the second time is always more gradual, more painful and ultimately more gratifying when he pushes her too far.

Nara trembles as Yoongi enters her, hot and throbbing and she digs her nails into his lusciously tight ass. There is no waiting for her to get used to his size; they both know she loves it when it hurts a little, so Yoongi wastes no time in sawing in and out of her, his head heavy and lax on her chest while his hips move unforgivingly fast.

A particularly angled thrust makes Nara’s closed eyes shoot open, and she makes a point of drawing her sharp nails all the way up Yoongi’s back, demanding that he do it again. At this he picks up his chest and delivers a sharp slap to her soft thigh. Like a rope has been cut loose, Nara’s body becomes limp as she gives thrusts the remnants of her control in their pleasure to Yoongi, and at this his own grin appears. Thighs open, arms by her head and hair sticking to her neck and chest, Nara is fully absorbed in nothing but the burgeoning orgasm she can feel is threatening to overtake her.

One of Yoongi’s fingers reaches down to press against Nara’s clit, and the convulsions that wrack her body force her to clench on his cock, and finally, finally her husband is coming apart; faster and faster he slaps his hips against hers, fingers abusing her clit so much that Nara could be either totally silent or screaming - she is unaware - until at long last the cord breaks and she cums so hard she can’t tell the difference between her own sweat and her tears.

Above her, Yoongi’s thighs falter as he ejaculates, eyes rolling behind his closed lids. Once he’s over the pinnacle of his climax he lays back down on his wife, head on her chest as he rides her pants until they become long breaths. This way, he is in sync with her.

Next: Chapter 5

#BTS scenario #Yoongi scenario #Suga scenario #Min Yoongi #CEO!Yoongi #BTS smut #Suga smut #Yoongi smut #I Have Listened to Every Lie #writing these sex scenes killed me #not in a good way #they were so damn stressful I had to rewrite them three times

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love-killed-the-superstar · 7 years ago

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Roses Are Lame, Roses Are Blue: Chapter 8

so, er, there’s really no fucking excuse for this???? except that when i don’t know how to write a chapter i will just procrastinate on it for literally years?? seriously someone just punch me

Title: Chapter 8: Flowers Are Without Hope Pairing: RespectShipping (Ash/Drew) Summary: A/D. Ash and Drew have never had the chance to see eye to eye, mostly due to the two living in the different trainer classes of pokemon trainer and pokemon coordinator. But when Drew proves he's a worthy opponent after winning a battle against Ash, the two find their lives are lacking a rivalry in which the latter respects the former. RespectShipping, M/M, slash.

(Chapter 8 - On Cloud Arcanine. Or, the one where Ash and Drew spend all screen time furiously avoiding looking at each other.)

Read on Fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8711638/8/Roses-Are-Lame-Roses-Are-Blue

8: Flowers Are Without Hope

-Kanto Route 5, August 18th, 2005-

“I can't believe this line, May,” Ash grumbled, glancing at the long queue in front of them. “These gourmet cakes of yours better be worth it.”

“Oh, they will be,” May chirped, glancing up from her guide book for a few moments to smile reassuringly. “My guidebook calls it the best bakery around!”

The best bakery around? Ash couldn't say he'd ventured out of Pallet Town much as a kid but he'd never heard of this bakery before, so surely it couldn't be that great. (Unless it was the one that Professor Oak always used to buy those stale cream puffs from whenever Ash and Gary had helped him out with fieldwork in the corral. If it was that bakery he'd rather fight a wild arcanine than choke them down.)

The group were on their way to Saffron City in order for May to start competing in Kanto contests in order to enter the Kanto Grand Festival being held in the Indigo Plateau. Ash was happy for May wanting to explore the region, he really was, but he didn't see why they had to stop at all the dumb places marked in her guidebook. If they rewound a few years and travelled this route with Misty, would they still be stopping at all these places? Ash wasn't sure. Either way, he was more than a little agitated when thinking about all the time they were wasting standing around this crowded joint.

As he shuffled from foot to foot irritably, a strange howl erupted from the clearing behind the bakery, and onlookers watched in amazement as an auburn shape bounded towards them, releasing another growl.

“That's an arcanine!” Ash exclaimed, pulling out his pokedex. Hopefully his updated dex would have new information following Professor Oak's extensive examinations of his grandson's arcanine over the years.

The cries of the public increased as the pokemon grew closer, once again crying out powerfully. With a spring in its step, the fire pokemon leapt gracefully over the group, landing perfectly before continuing to speed off into the distance.

“That was cool!” Max beamed, watching as the large orange figure grew smaller.

“I'd love to catch it,” sighed May, clasping her hands together excitedly. As they continued to watch it, in awe of its speed, a new voice joined the fray.

“Arcanine!”

Ash's eyes widened and he spun round rapidly, a little dizzy.

“Look, it's Drew!”

But why? What was Drew even doing here? The last time Ash had saw him...

Ash watched his closet rival as he chased the minute flaxen shape in the distance, eyes shining, grin confident.

“Go, Flygon, flamethrower!”

With a cry, Drew's pokemon spat out a powerful fire that blazed at the arcanine's feet. With a roar from deep in its belly, the arcanine retaliated with an equally strong attack that streamed from its open jaws.

“Look, Arcanine's using heatwave!” Max gasped, eyes wide. The flygon hastily dodged the attack, unnerved by it. Annoyed by the harassment, the arcanine released a sudden burst of energy, speeding off into the trees.

“What's that?” Ash asked, bewildered.

“Now it's using its extreme speed,” Max observed, unable to tear his eyes away.

“It got away!” Drew stopped in front of the group, fists clenched and teeth grinding. Ash had rarely seen him so wound up over a pokemon... that said, Ash had never seen Drew catch a pokemon before, had he? He supposed the latter would probably want to do some sort of intimate pre-battle routine, bowing at his pokemon before charging in with another freaking petal dance. He doubted he'd expected company at all.

May stared for a few moments, mouth still gaping as she watched the spot where the arcanine had been, before turning to face Brock quizzically.

“So what's extreme speed, Brock?”

“It's an attack that increases a pokemon's speed,” Brock explained simply, “and by using it in battle it will almost always guarantee you the first attack.”

“Only an amateur would ask a question like that, May,” Drew smirked, approaching the group smugly. May frowned but held back from verbally attacking him, simply muttering, “I didn't know you were here in Kanto too, Drew.”

Ash was kind of wondering about that too.

“Real winners can never resist competition,” Drew said, flicking his fringe back, “though that does make me wonder why you're here.”

Don't take the bait, May, Ash grumbled silently.

“Can't you try to be polite?” she snapped, planting on her hips while scowling at the smug-faced coordinator opposite. Drew's smirk deepened.

“I guess this means that you've come to enter the Kanto Grand Festival too, huh?” Brock intervened, frowning a little at Drew, the latter turning his head slightly as he spoke.

“Well, more accurately I'm here to win it.”

“You're in luck for most annoying but I'm winning the festival!”

The competitive banter came to an abrupt halt as Drew reached into his pocket. “Yeah? Think so?” As he spoke, the small golden case he was holding flicked open, revealing a small glossy orange ribbon. “Check it out.”

May gasped, eyes wide.

“Huh? Is that a genuine Kanto contest ribbon?!”

“That it is.”

May groaned, fists clenched.

“I still haven't won a single one of those!”

“Well of course you haven't.” Again with the damn hair flipping, Ash seethed. He was starting to believe Drew did it to hide that he was bullshitting everything. “I'm on my way to catch that arcanine now so I can continue winning my way through Kanto.”

“For your information I'm gonna catch that arcanine!” retorted May, rising to his challenge as usual.

“I'd love to see you try.” He put his hands back in his pockets. “But I'd hate to see you humiliated.”

May stamped her foot in frustration.

“I'm gonna show you!”

Drew's eyes met with Ash's for just a moment, sharp and impossible to read, before he turned back to his flygon.

“Let's go, Flygon. Let's go get that arcanine!”

Without looking back, he began to run, his flygon following suit, and part of Ash felt hollow. It was a simple rivalry behind the scenes, just as it had been before, but... it felt like Drew was being deliberately cold towards him.

Still, he forced a smile. It wouldn't do any good to make his friends worry when May was so fired up about catching this arcanine, and besides, if it meant May wouldn't pick up on the change between Ash and Drew since she'd last seen them both, it was for the best.

“Wow, Drew's flygon is really something else,” Max remarked.

“Who cares?” snapped May. “I'm about to show him something else! And capturing that arcinine will be the perfect way to start!” Ash had to admit, seeing the look on Drew's face if – no, when – May captured the pokemon before him was a satisfying thought.

“Yeah, and we can all help you out!” Pikachu expressed a noise of agreement, and May grinned and took off after Drew.

“Let's go then!”

Max caught up with her quickly and began firing off questions – which pokemon was she planning on using? Did she have a strategy in mind for dealing with arcanine, and did she even know its most common attacks? – Brock fell into step with Ash.

“So,” he said in a low voice. “Drew's in Kanto. Did you know?”

“No,” Ash said shortly. “No, I didn't know where he was going any more than you did.”

“I was just asking,” Brock said quickly. He paused. “Did you two talk, in the end? About everything that happened?”

“Brock, can we not do this now?” Ash interrupted, trying not to raise his voice. “Anything that was happening between me and Drew, it's sorted now. It won't happen again. And bringing it up is only gonna make May suspicious, and right now her heart is set on capturing arcanine.”

Brock watched him silently for a few moments, before shrugging.

“Okay. But later, if you want to talk...”

“I know,” Ash exhaled. “You'll be here. I know.”

…

Most of the morning and afternoon were spent trying and failing to engage in battle with the arcanine. It clearly wasn't looking to partner up with a trainer any time soon, and Ash's patience was waning thin. May was driven, however, and their latest endeavour involved them crouched behind a rock, high up in the mountains.

“So tell me again why we're up here?” Max piped up, also visibly impatient with May's boundless energy.

“Cause this is our last chance,” Ash ground out.

“The old woodsman said Arcanine likes to come up here,” Brock explained. “So if it does we'll have it cornered on the ledge with nowhere else to run!”

“And with no more distractions like pecha berries what could possibly go wrong?” chimed in May, with a look of pure energized determination on her face.

Squirtle uttered a confused grunt, and the group glanced over. Arcanine was making its way towards the edge of the mountainside, and Brock hissed, “There it is!”

“Go get it, May!” urged Ash, half-excited and half wanting the excursion to be over already. He couldn't deny how cool it would be if May did capture the arcanine after all, though. Especially if it meant she had beaten Drew to it.

May stepped forward with Squirtle in her arms, giggling in anticipation, and the arcanine whipped around.

“So, Arcanine, this time you're not getting away!” May began, but at that moment, as per usual, Drew jumped in without missing a beat, landing a few paces in front of May with his flygon in tow. May gasped.

“Go, Flygon!” Drew called, smug determination written all over his face. Something in Ash's blood boiled. A small part of him enjoyed the way Drew's face lit up when he was facing an opponent, but the rest of him despised that even more. This was supposed to be May's victory.

“What are you doing?!” May squeaked out in indignation. “I was here first, Drew!”

“Hardly,” Drew scoffed. “I was up on that ledge since this morning.”

Arcanine, sensing the tension between the two, took that moment to leap over their heads and sprint up the mountainside and out of sight. May groaned as it disappeared from view.

“Great!” she snarled, glaring pointedly at Drew. “Thanks to you Arcanine got away and now neither one of us has it!”

“Please. Like you ever had a chance of catching it anyway.”

“How dare you, Drew!” May burst out, seething. “If you think you're so great let's have a battle right now to see who gets to go after Arcanine!”

Drew reached up to flick his fringe out of his eyes, and Ash fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Huh! I guess a little warm up practice won't hurt.”

As they got into position, Ash caught Drew's eye.

Just let her have this one, he mouthed. He knew it was unfair – May could fight her own battles, she certainly didn't need his protection – but something inside of him was just begging Drew to show some sort of mercy. Drew stared right through him.

Brock raised his arms.

“Let this one-on-one pokemon battle begin!” he called.

“I'll give you the first move,” Drew said. For a moment, his gaze flickered over to Ash, and Ash found himself relieved. At least Drew wasn't completely blanking him, even if he was, as usual, impossible to read.

“You'll probably regret that,” countered May, fuelled by the urge to one up him. “Squirtle, start with tackle!”

Inwardly, Ash groaned.

“Why'd she start off with that?!” he asked aloud.

“And all Drew has to do is...”

“Go, Flygon, fly!”

Flygon easily dodged the attack, and Ash fought the urge to bury his face in his hands.

The battle ended badly and Drew, determined to one up May, was the first to reach the top of the mountain. Once they discovered the nest, they weren't sure where to go from there, but Team Rocket had, as usual, interrupted and captured the entire family of pokemon.

Ash seriously wondered if Team Rocket had any other hobbies besides gatecrashing their travels.

Surprisingly, Drew had stuck around to help, and his flygon had burst Team Rocket's balloon, sending them hurtling into the brush below. The group chased Team Rocket to where they crashed, the growlithe cubs and arcanine still trapped in the net, and both Ash and Brock reached for their pokeballs.

“We got them! Let's go, Brock!”

“Right!”

May interrupted.

“Wait.”

Ash stopped in his tracks, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Let Drew and I finish it up this time,” she said with a grin.

Drew's eyes met Ash's.

“Yeah, since we were the ones who started this whole thing off.”

Ash, surprised and just relieved Drew was talking to him at this time, didn't need much convincing.

“All right, it's all yours!”

Drew turned away quickly, and the moment was over.

“Come on, Flygon, we gotta rescue Arcanine!” He stabbed a finger towards Team Rocket. “Steel wing the net!”

Flygon cut the net down easily, and May and Drew engaged in a double battle against Team Rocket. Between calling out attacks, the two were complimenting each other on their form, and Ash felt a twinge of something in his chest. Jealousy, maybe? Loneliness? Longing? At this point, he couldn't sort out one feeling from another when it came to Drew. Everything turned into a cluster of messy emotions.

As Flygon took out Jessie's dustox with a flamethrower, Ash felt himself being drawn into the battle, like a dance.

“Yeah!”

“Those two are a great team!” he exclaimed.

“Even though their styles are totally different they work well together,” Brock remarked.

Were they all that different? Ash had always seen an eerie similarity to their fighting styles, even if their attitudes, training methods and the way they presented in contests were polar opposites. He was sure they would both hate being compared to one another, but Ash didn't necessarily see it as being a bad thing – in fact, it reminded him of Gary, and how the two of them had been like opposite sides of a coin, different and yet somehow the same.

Rivals. That was how he'd see it. Different and yet tethered together.

After Team Rocket were blasted off, the group stood for a while watching Arcanine groom its cubs. Ash turned to May.

“There it is. So, did you change your mind about catching it?”

May nodded.

“Yep.” She turned to Drew. “Well, go ahead...”

Drew shook his head slightly, still with that damn smile.

“As much as I think I could win with it, I don't wanna break up a happy family.” He hummed, brushing his fringe away from his face once more. “So I'll let them be.”

How generous, Ash thought dryly. May seemed satisfied with his response, and they all watched as the arcanine led its litter away.

…

“Hey.”

Drew turned to see Ash standing a few feet from him, fists clenching and unclenching with nerves. They had trailed back to the bakery May had suggested earlier for a victory snack, and the two of them had left to use the bathroom while May, Max and Brock queued. Only, Drew realised, it had been a ploy on Ash's part to get him alone.

“Can we not do this now?” he muttered.

“We have to. Drew, we need to talk,” Ash said, pushing his hair back self-consciously. “I... I thought you might call me one of these days. It's been weeks, you know, since we last talked.”

Drew's eyes narrowed.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“We need to talk about this, you know? I'm sorry things went so weird on the phone last time. I didn't want it to be that way, it's just... I was freaked out. My mom found out about us, and I didn't know what to do. It made me realise how mixed up my feelings were, how bad the timing was. If I knew you were going to Kanto too...”

“What, you would have arranged a dinner date?” Drew snapped. “Get real, Ash. This was never going to work, was it? I don't know why I held on to some kind of hope that things would get better between us.”

“I want things to!” Ash pleaded. “I want us to be how we were before – before things got all weird and intense! Why can't we just be rivals for a while again, and see where it goes from here? Please, I don't want to lose what we have.”

“You can't lose something that was never there to begin with,” Drew said sourly. “No one knows about this rivalry, so is it even real?”

“Stop trying to shut me down with, with psychology or whatever,” burst out Ash, fuming. “I believed in you as my rival, even if we kept it a secret. I learned from you. You made me interested in contests! You're telling me none of that was real? How could I feel these things if there was no rivalry at all?!”

“Then why don't we just tell them? Why not just admit that we're rivals?”

Ash frowned.

“What do you mean? I... I thought you liked that this was something private.”

“Why does it have to be?” Drew countered. “I mean, you never thought it was weird that we were keeping it hidden from them? But I'm the stupid one for reading into it, right?”

“That's not what I'm saying!” Ash interrupted. “Of course I don't think that! But... but we kept it a secret before these feelings started coming up, don't you see? It's always been about improving each other, opening our eyes to other ways of battling and training! I don't get why that has to change?”

“It would be so easy to just tell her, Ash.” Drew's voice was flat. “We could tell May we're rivals too. Right here, right now, we could tell her together. It would be so simple.”

“You know she wouldn't like it,” Ash said in a defeated voice.

“She'd get over it. You two aren't my only rivals, and I know for a fact I'm not yours. One of these days May will find someone else to call her rival, too.” Drew's eyes bore into Ash. “Why can't we just be honest with her?”

“She's so pumped just being with you. I don't want to ruin it,” he said desperately. “But I don't want to end what we have either, Drew. Please.”

“I've kept quiet for you, Ash. You don't want them to know about our rivalry – you're ashamed of the feelings we have! I'm... I'm done being your secret.” Drew stared at him coldly, and then looked down. “Until next time.”

“Drew, come on!”

Drew headed back to queue with May, and Ash hung back in defeat, standing beside Brock with enough intensity to burn down the place. If Brock sensed something had happened, he didn't say a word.

They didn't speak a word to each other for the remainder of the afternoon.

…

The sun was beginning to set, and Brock mentioned about setting up camp.

“Well then, I guess this is goodbye,” Drew said, glancing between the group. His eyes lingered on Ash for just a beat longer, and then he quickly turned back to May again.

“Until we meet again, at least,” she said with a laugh.

Drew took a step forward.

“You know, there's a contest coming up in Saffron City I think you should enter.”

May blinked.

“I hadn't heard anything about it... why, are you entering?”

Drew smirked.

“Nah, I have to focus on finding a new pokemon to strengthen my team first. But I think you'd do really well in it.”

He began to walk away, refusing to look back.

“Well, thank you, Drew!” May called after him. He offered a wave without turning around, and then disappeared into the woods.

“What a poser,” Ash muttered, and Max snickered as May nudged him on the arm crossly.

The evening was uneventful, but the shared looks and things left unsaid lingered in Ash's mind as they ate dinner and did some evening training, finding a clearing where they could see late evening stars beginning to twinkle. They set up camp in the woods, and Brock took a seat beside Ash while May and Max finished their food and got ready for bed.

“So, wanna talk about what happened today?”

“There's nothing to talk about, Brock,” Ash sighed. “You saw. We barely said a civil word to each other.”

“That's the part that stumped me, honestly.” Brock squeezed his shoulder. “Have you worked out... whatever's going on between the two of you?”

“No. Actually, I think things have gotten worse. We agreed to go back to how we were, but... it's different, I can tell.” He looked away and muttered, “I don't think he's even planning on talking to me, if he can help it. We argued earlier.”

“He didn't take it very well, then?” Brock asked flatly.

“Take what very well?”

“That you aren't interested in a relationship.”

“Brock, it's not that I wasn't, you know, interested in him, and being with him,” Ash said, brow furrowed in frustration as he tried to choose his words carefully. “But, all it was doing was making things tense for us, and tense for May and Drew. So I told him I wanted to just be rivals, for now. It's not a decision I rushed, but... the way we've both been acting, I think he thought I was going to say yes.”

Brock exhaled.

“I had no idea you felt that way about him, you know. I'm sorry you couldn't talk to me about it until things got bad.” Ash frowned up at him. “What are you talking about, Brock? That isn't on you. I didn't even know what was happening until it got to that point. I've never felt these kind of things before. How could I know it was... well, a kind of love?” “I thought you and Misty would always end up together, truthfully,” Brock said with a laugh. “I thought when we were travelling I was watching young love unfold. You were really oblivious to it all?”

“Me and Misty?!” Ash's eyes bugged out. “Sorry to burst your bubblebeam there, Brock, but Misty used to tease me like I was her kid brother! Sure, we got along fine, but...”

“Well, have you ever had a crush on a girl?” Brock asked.

Ash shrugged.

“Not that I can think of? I don't know what that makes me. I don't see any point in using labels and stuff right now. It's not productive, is it?”

“Guess not.” Brock hummed to himself, deliberating on something for a few moments, before speaking up again. “You know, I thought Lance was cute, that time we met up with him.”

Ash turned to stare at him. “You did?”

Brock nodded, and cracked a smile. “Like you said, you don't have to put a label on what you feel. But if you want my advice, I think you should call him. Smooth things over.”

Ash stared down at his pokedex.

“I don't know about that, Brock. I think he's upset with me.”

“All the more reason to, then. Tell him what you told me, about the timing being bad and just wanting things to be simple. If he knows where he stands, the both of you will surely bounce back from it.”

Brock patted him on the shoulder and rose to his feet. “I'm going to bed, but promise me you'll sort things out?”

“I'll try,” Ash muttered. “He's not the easiest guy to talk to.”

With a wave, Brock headed back to where May and Max were sitting in their sleeping bags and climbed into his own. Ash headed a little deeper into the forest, and dialled Drew's pokedex code. He fiddled with his fringe, half-wondering if there was any point making himself presentable for this conversation, but half wanting Drew to find him attractive over his crappy pokedex facecam.

On the fourth ring, Drew answered. His hair was slightly ruffled, either from sleep or from recently flying, and he was in lodgings that looked like a typical pokemon centre room.

“Hey.”

“I told you goodbye,” Drew deadpanned.

“I know. But, but we need to talk properly, Drew. I'm sorry things got out of hand. But you're not ditching the Saffron City contest because of me, are you? I won't talk to you, if that's what you need to hear. I don't want to stand in your way.”

Drew scoffed.

“Don't flatter yourself. I wasn't planning on going anyway.”

“Drop the smug bullshit for a second, will you?” snapped Ash. “Why do you care so much about telling May, all of a sudden? Up until today you've been fine keeping it between the two of us. Whether it's romantic or not, I don't see why we have to involve anyone else.”

“You're ashamed of me, Ash,” Drew said harshly, silencing him instantly. “I won't be kept around at your convenience. I get that you think you're being noble and sheltering May, but someone was always going to get hurt. It just sucks you'd rather make me pay than just tell her the truth about us.”

“Drew, you're her first rival,” Ash said pleadingly. “If I tell her, it'll screw with her confidence.”

“You think she doesn't already know on some level?” Drew asked sharply. “Ash, she knows we've spent time together away from her, she knows I've given you at least one rose, and she knows that I get in your head. She's been putting the pieces together for months, can't you see that?”

Ash shook his head slowly, feeling the colour draining from his face.

“If she knows, why doesn't she just ask?”

“The same reason you won't just tell her, I suppose.” Drew's voice was quiet, but harsh. “Maybe it's cause she just doesn't wanna know. She's your damn friend, you figure it out.”

“You aren't being fair,” Ash protested.

“No?” Drew's eyes flashed. “I've been patient. I've given you time to sort through your feelings, I haven't run to May to reveal our big fucking secret! Now it's your turn to give me some time to get through this. I can take you not reciprocating my feelings. I can handle rejection, but when you won't even admit to your friends that I'm your damn rival? Why would I want to be stuck in a rivalry like that in the first place?”

Ash held the phone so tightly his fingers hurt.

“I don't want you to give up on us, Drew,” he whispered. “Please.”

Drew dragged a hand through his hair, looking truly exhausted.

“I can't do this right now, Ash. If I have to wait around for you to figure out what the hell you want from me, I'll never go anywhere. Just let me be until the next time we meet.”

“Please-”

The call ended, and Ash gripped his phone in despair.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, burying his face in his hands. “Damn you, Drew.”

#pokemon #respectshipping #ash/drew #drew/ash #ashxdrew #drewxash #writing #well... i finally beat on cloud arcanine #seriously fuck that episode for giving me nothing to work with im so bitter #oh well whats done is done #happy respectshipping everybody

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