#AND FINDING OUT THE BURNS ARENT HER FRIENDS BUT HER FAMILY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

softpascalito · 2 months

Text

We got your back - Chapter 4

Summary: You work as a new DEA agent alongside Peña and Murphy. A not-so-kind colleague reveals more about you than you would like. You also realize you can sleep better if you're not by yourself. You're not the only one with that realization.

Relationships: Javier Peña x F!Reader

WC: 10k+

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, mention of canon-typical violence, family issues, they arent specified but reader is implied to be from a dysfunctional family, literal sleeping together, one bed trope if you squint, tac vest javi, nightmares, cuddling, protective javier peña, mention of drugs

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist

notes: we are back! sorry this took me so long, i started into the year super positive and motivated but then my best friend decided to fucking die so life hasn't been very slay. i hope you babes are doing better and enjoy the chapter <3

(i cope with humor, can you tell?)

Chapter 4

“She could no longer think, nor were there any more images in her head. She was aware only of the softness of the woollen bathrobe next to her skin, and then of the nearness and warmth of a being that did not frighten her.”

- Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

You have the first good day in weeks. Apart from the nagging feeling that you now have something else to hide - at least from Steve and the rest of your colleagues - you do feel well rested, getting through the assigned files and some more intel with record speed.

One of the higher-ups is celebrating a milestone birthday and orders dinner, causing more people than usual to stay late. Javi finds you in the crammed room where the plates of food have been set up and squeezes in next to you, flashing his signature charming smile, “May I?”

“Yeah, sure,” you mumble back, shifting slightly to give him more space. But with how full all the tables are, the people are a good excuse to let yourself get a little closer than you normally would. Somehow, it doesn’t feel weird, the way it likely would’ve before last night. It just feels safe.

You eat your dinner without speaking much, Javi practically wolfing his down. A frown spreads over your face at that, “You got plans after this?”

“Are you asking me out, querida?” Javi responds in between two bites, flirting so casually that it almost seems like second nature to him. Which according to the testimony of at least three women you know in the embassy, is exactly that.

He cocks his brow as he turns towards you and for a split second, he looks serious, like he means it. The thought has you blushing furiously and you think you just may choke on a piece of your pasta when the familiar grin spreads over his face and with it, a similarly familiar warmth settles in your stomach. “I was just joking,” he reassures you again at seeing your cheeks change color and clears his throat before getting a little more serious.

“Wanted to go through some more files, not like this lot will get anything done tonight.” He nods towards the group of people gathered around the man who is apparently celebrating. They’ve finally opened up the first bottle of Aguardiente.

Of course, Javi knows that with the steadily rising alcohol level, he may just be able to persuade someone into giving him access to precisely the file he wants. Or at least provide enough distraction for him to sneak off and find it himself.

He can still hear Steve in the back of his mind, reasoning with him.

“Have you ever considered that the files are sealed because she wants them to be?”

He has, now. But he finds that he doesn’t really care. There is something there, something that might explain you to him a little more. A tiny voice in his head offers up the idea of just asking you, getting to know you like everyone else does.

But he quickly shakes that thought off. It’s nothing to him, personally at least. His interest is strictly professional of course. Nothing else.

Just as the first people start clearing out, Javi slips away too. You strain your neck, glancing around the room and towards the buffet but he’s nowhere to be found.

“Great,” you mumble to yourself as you follow suit and leave the table, heading out of the large oak doors of the conference room. A pit has formed in your stomach and it only deepens when you catch a glimpse of the time. It’s past nine already so chances are Javier really has headed off to meet some informant. You try not to consider who else he could be meeting and who else may wake up next to him in the morning.

Passing through the dimly lit corridors that lead to the DEA offices, you let out a small noise of annoyance with yourself.

It’s not like it’s any of your business what Javi does after closing time or who he meets. And it’s not really like you to judge him for it.

But today, you realize quietly, your disappointment stems from the pit in your stomach at the thought of having to go home to the apartment you’d rather forget and to spend a few hours tossing and turning on a mattress until it’s time to come back.

You haven’t met a single person on your way back to your office and you consider curling up next to your desk again. A glance around the office tells you that you’re not in luck, though. A few other co-workers still have their bags and jackets draped over chairs and desks and some will no doubt return to get them once they’re done eating. Javi finding you was one thing but they would be something else.

It takes a few seconds until the solution hits you and you take off past the open plan office and towards the smaller adjacent rooms in the back. The crammed file room that you’ve spent the last night in is sitting in darkness, the blinds almost completely closed. You decide against turning on the big light and simply make your way through the room- which is barely a few steps.

The orange glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds is enough to let your hands find the couch in the corner and you settle onto it with a small sigh, content to just be still for a moment. It’s a little eerie, especially since you’re not sure if anyone other than Peña and Murphy frequents the space. But the sounds that do drift to you are low and distant, nothing more than a couple of cars honking a few blocks away and a dog barking somewhere in the distance.

You draw your legs up onto the couch, wrapping your arms around them for the lack of actual bedding and lean back, closing your eyes.

It doesn’t become apparent to you that you’ve passed out until you wake with a start. You’re semi-aware of something above you and you squint into the darkness of the room. You can’t see his face but there is the voice you know all too well.

“That you, cariño?” Javi mutters, already a blanket in hand that he nudges against you. It takes you a few more seconds to find your voice, bringing a hand up to rub your eyes, “Thought you left.”

“I came back. Here, go back to sleep. I’ll stay.”

You’re too tired to fight him, to put up any kind of resistance against making this a habit, to bring up that this is a bad idea, for the sake of both of you. The blanket warms you up so quickly, even more so with the way Javier’s body slowly comes to rest beside you. You think you answer something before you pass out again. You can’t remember what you say.

It’s not until the next morning, when you yawn as you head into the office kitchen, that you find out precisely why Javier snuck off last night.

There is cereal. And not the shitty kind- actual Cap’n Crunch, your favorite. The man beside you, who has a reputation for being a playboy and for never staying for breakfast, remembered the way you preferred your breakfast. It’s hard not to let it get to your head.

It does become routine after that. Javi lingers around the office until he can tell if you’ll leave or stay. Most nights you stay. Most turn into all. On the second night in a row, he lights himself a cigarette as he flips through a few more files before going to sleep. On the third, it goes from a bad to a really bad night when the nightmares you never seem to be able to get rid of come for you. For a second, you think this will be one step too far for him. But he barely seems to mind the way you cuddle a bit closer to him and he mumbles soft words until you go back to sleep.

He never mentions it during the day and neither do you. It’s almost like your sleeping arrangements are part of a different world, not the one that spins around your work, that’s full of drugs and death and everything else that makes sleep difficult. But Javi just feels- safe. He never asks too many questions. He just gets the blanket, sets his alarm, makes sure there is cereal in the morning. He feels like a godsent.

Of course, it’s only a question of time until someone notices something. You’re always careful to not head into your little room until everyone else is gone but occasionally, someone will show up too early or during the night- a spontaneous raid, a tip that needs instant investigating. Javi keeps the phone by his side constantly and it takes over a week for you to realize it may not just be to get alerts on developing situations but also to be alerted to someone coming into the office during unusual hours.

So when two weeks have passed and someone does catch you, Javi is glad it's Steve who is clearly just grabbing some files early in the morning and freezes in the doorway. He stares Javi down, who in return gently puts a finger onto his lips and motions for them to head to the hallway, gently closing the door behind himself as he steps out of the office.

“I have no way to be certain about Messina’s stance on this, but something tells me she wouldn't appreciate you bringing your hookers into the embassy,” Steve hums, unable to keep a small smirk off his face. Javi rolls his eyes in return, “I'm not an idiot, do you know that?”

He pauses for a moment and raises his hand just as Steve opens his mouth, “Don't answer that.” His mind is racing with too many thoughts at once. He’s not sure why, of all the things he could choose to tell Steve, he picks the truth when the lies would be so much easier.

“She was assigned a shitty apartment, hasn't been sleeping well. I remember you and Connie having similar issues after you arrived down here. With her, I figured we didn't use the room anyway and she-” he trails off. Steve brows have knitted together as the pieces slowly fall into place, “Somehow, a hooker would have been less complicated than a colleague.” There's another roll of eyes from Javi, the air a little thick with tension.

“I'm trying to help her. That's all.”

“You are trying to help her? Do you really expect me to believe that?” Steve shoots back, raising his voice until Javi motions for him to quiet down, nodding towards the door. The blonde man makes a face, but he does lower his voice as he repeats himself, “You expect me to believe that? You’re just helping her, no motive? It has nothing to do with you feeling the need to fuck your way through half the office by the time we finish the case?”

Javier actually groans at that, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. He moves his fingers to the side, using them to gently rub his tired eyes. His free arm is resting against his belt, the fingers twitching ever so slightly.

“Fuck you, Murphy. Just leave us alone and get your files in the morning.”

Steve looks like he wants to say something else, but then he thinks better of it. A small glare is sent towards his partner regardless.

“If you fuck this up somehow, Javi, I swear, I will make sure you get in real trouble. She’s too sweet for whatever you are trying to do here.”

It's two nights after the encounter with Steve- who has much to Javier's relief actually left them alone- when it happens again. It's been a particularly exhausting day for both of you, which actually made Javi hopeful that you'd both fall into a deep sleep as soon as you hit the couch. But it's been as mentally draining as it's been physically. And your mind clearly just won’t shut off.

It wakes him. The small stirring, the movement of your body beside his. He’s never been a particularly deep sleeper and Colombia has only made it worse, his brain seemingly always on alert to danger. So when he does wake, it takes Javi a few seconds to realize that the danger his brain is alerting him to is not a sicario sneaking into your room, it’s not a gun held to his head. It’s an entirely different kind of danger, one much less life-threatening but so much more complicated to fix.

A small groan escapes him as he reaches for the small light perched on the file cabinets, pulling the string attached to it. He blinks groggily as it flickers to life, bathing the room into a dim, dusty light. A few moments pass before he hears another whimper behind him and turns towards you, eyes already laced with concern.

Your features are scrunched up, lips slightly apart as the noises find their way out of your dream and into reality. Occasionally, a muscle twitches in your hands or your leg, making the whole scene even more eerie. But what gets Javier the most, what makes the pit in his stomach feel like one that could reach the ground floor, is the wetness on your face. Tears, undoubtedly slipping from your closed eyes and finding their way down the side of your face. It looks absolutely heartbreaking.

“Cariño,” he mutters under his breath, bringing his hand towards your arm and beginning to rub it in a gentle, circular motion.

“Wake up, it’s just a dream. You’re-” For a split second, he wants to say home. But he knows it's so far from the truth. He's not sure you consider any place in this country a home. Actually, he's not sure which place you do consider one.

“You’re alright,” he mumbles instead, adding a little more force to his touch and voice alike. His gaze never leaves your face as your eyes finally fly open, practically choking on the whimper that had just been leaving your throat. The panic is evident in your eyes, in the way they fly around, searching for something, anything to reassure you, to replace the pictures still floating in your mind. They find soft, brown eyes. It’s something to hold onto.

“There you are,” Javi hums, bringing his free hand to your face, his thumb catching the next tear that rolls out of the corner of your eye. “It's okay, you're safe. Just a bad dream.”

You blame it on the panic still sitting in your throat or the way you've just woken up, the way you don't even think about your movements as you move yourself into Javis arms, sneaking your arms around his waist and you think you feel him hesitate for just a moment before he wraps his arms around you in return, whispering reassurances into the dimly lit room and stroking your back.

You cry a little more, when the memories of the dream feel too overwhelming and he holds you through all of it, not once complaining about how long you’re taking to shake the thoughts off.

It’s a good half hour before you’re both lying down again, his back resting against the edge of the sofa, right arm wrapped lazily around you, “You want me to keep the light on for now?”

The idea seems a little silly to you but it takes you right back to evenings in your childhood bedroom, to what felt like endless nights of asking your father to plug in the small night light you'd gotten for christmas. It looked like a sheep, carrying a smile and enough light for you to be able to tell that there were no monsters hiding in the dark corners of your room.

“Querida?” You nod your head quickly, resting it back on his chest, “Yeah, I- let’s keep it on. If that’s okay.”

“Por supuesto que está bien,” (Of course that is okay,) Javier mumbles softly, his left hand reaching below your makeshift bed and producing a pack of Marlboros. You watch the movements of his hands, the ones you see him do at least ten times a day, his fingers reaching for a cigarette, placing it between his slightly parted lips. Pausing to search two pockets for his lighter before finding it.

At a small nudge from you, he pauses, raising a brow, “¿Sí?” You nod towards the pack that’s still resting next to him, “It’s really rude not to offer me one.”

“I thought you didn’t smoke,” he says, seeming genuinely confused for a moment and you almost take pity. You sneak your hand over his torso, drawing a cigarette from the half-empty pack, “I do now.”

To his defense, he does try and look stern for a moment. But he knows it'd be hypocritical at best if he of all people tried to stop you.

“It's a bad habit.”

“Well, then it's our bad habit.”

Javi thinks, for a split moment, that something entirely else is his bad habit. The way he looks at you when you fall asleep before him or the touches that seem to become more and more frequent the longer your sleeping arrangement continues. The way he jerks off in his shower at home, picturing your face, your body draped in his shirt a few nights ago when your blouse was simply too uncomfortable to sleep in. Spilling into his own hand with a groan at those thoughts. Yeah, that's definitely his bad habit.

“Are you going to light it for me or are you hoping it’ll disintegrate if you think hard enough?” You joke gently, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Teasing again already, are we?” Javi hums but he does reach for his lighter and brings it to your face, careful not to get too close.

He waits until you’ve both taken a few drags to ask his question.

“So what was it about?”

You swallow a bit at that, taking another long drag before you shake your head, “Nothing special. It’s already disappearing.” After another moment of thinking, you add, truthfully, “There was something with drugs in it.”

“Not very creative, I’d say. Five out of ten.”

You stare at him in disbelief, “Are you rating my nightmares, Peña?”

“I like to keep track,” he responds, giving you a small wink that you almost miss. You watch the smoke rising from the cigarette between his lips, sighing softly. You don’t like lying to him. Then again, it really was about drugs. Just not in the way he may think. It’s not your fault he’s stupid, sometimes.

“You’re silly. Go to sleep.”

“Go to sleep yourself.”

You do end up falling back asleep first, head still resting on his chest. Javi stays awake a little while longer, just in case the nightmares come back. At least that’s what he tells himself. And if he happens to use that opportunity to study your face a bit more? Well, it’s noones business.

end notes: if you enjoyed this, please reblog and/or leave a comment <3 also subscribe on ao3 or follow me here to catch the next update!

70 notes · View notes

fayes-fics · 2 years

Text

Moments: Chapters 1-4

Moments Masterpost

PREV | NEXT

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, OFC (John Darby) x fem!reader

Summary: Slow-burn fic. Follow on to No Good Advice. Best to read that first, however In case you haven’t/don’t - reader has an arranged marriage to childhood friend John Darby, but has a passionate pre-marital relationship with Benedict Bridgerton which results in the conception of a child on her wedding day. Reader is now married to John Darby and he believes himself the father of the child. This fic is what happens next for all of these characters.

Word count: 4.8k (for these 4 chapters)

Warnings: angst, illness, original character death, pining. Warnings/ratings will go up in future chapters.

Authors Note: this is my first attempt at multi-chapter. Please be kind lol <3 I expect there to be at least another 4 chapters, likely more. Thank you to @makaylan for all of your wonderful advice and beta work on these chapters.

Chapter 1: Moments from a family life

John Darby is many things, but most important to you is that he is a great parent to your son James. He is a companionable husband as well. He is probably your best and certainly oldest friend in the world. There could be worse ways to spend your life. There are moments of contentment that bring you solace, and what more could you reasonably ask for?

---

The thunder wakes you up. You spring out of bed to check on baby James, on instinct, not even noticing John's side of the bed is empty,

You round the corner into the nursery but stop short. In the low candlelight is John, holding little James in his arms, swaying gently and pointing at something out the window. You can hear him talking quietly but not the words he is saying.

You lean against the doorframe, your hand closing over your chest instinctively, watching your two boys. He looks up, sees you and smiles, beckoning you over with a tilt of his head.

“James, look who is here? It's your mummy.”

“How is he?” you whisper as the rain starts beating against the window in earnest.

“He is such a good boy. Arent you James? Yes, you are.” John busses a kiss onto his forehead, and James smiles up at him.

“I couldn't sleep, so I wanted to see him,” John explains, pulling funny faces that make James smile.

“Does the storm bother him?” you ask, curious; it's the first one you recall since he was born.

“Not at all. I think I woke him, to be honest. He’s such a good boy” John runs his hand affectionately over James' forehead and then kisses it again. “Nothing like me. I was so scared during storms as a baby and a child I used to wail. How about you?”

“Surely you remember?” You reply. He frowns, so you continue. “That time I was at your house aged 5? There was a big thunderstorm? I peed myself and had to borrow a maid's child’s dress just to go home. I was always petrified of storms until I was an adult.”

John barks a quiet laugh in response, “I remember now. You could barely walk in the thing; it drowned you. But it was the closest thing we had to your size.”

You grin at the memory too. So much shared time together.

“So where on earth does this bravery come from, my beautiful boy?” John asks rhetorically, looking down at James. “Both of your parents were so scared, but look at you, calm as anything.”

Your smile takes on a brittle edge as you hope he doesn’t piece together too many things that don’t quite add up about James.

---

“What's this, papa?” four-year-old James comes wandering up from the side of the country path you are all walking, someplace amid the vast Darby estate on a warm spring afternoon.

He hands John a rusted metal object that is almost triangular.

“Where did you find this, James?” John asks, turning the item over in his hands, brushing off some loose soil.

“Over there by the field”, he points. “I was looking for rocks for my collection,” he adds proudly.

“Well, this is much better than a silly rock,” unseen by his father, James' little face skews into a pout at John’s passing comment. “I do believe this is a very ancient item, my son”, John continues, giving him a proud pat on the shoulder. “I would need to check with a few friends to get more detail, but I think this is an arrowhead from a spear, used hundreds of years ago.”

“Oh really, papa?” James seems awed, squinting in the sun as he looks up at his father.

“The plough must have turned it over with the soil last week,” John says thoughtfully, as much to himself as James, continuing to examine the item.

“Well done, darling,” you praise, kneeling to kiss James on the cheek.

“Can I keep it, mama?” he asks, making hands to take it back from John.

“Let’s see what your father thinks,” you answer democratically, giving John a pointed look; you can tell he wants to take it and show it to his museum friends. But you want James to have it. He did find it, and there's likely not much monetary value, certainly not to a man of the means John has. John catches your eye and sees everything in your expression, his shoulders slumping as he knows he lost the argument before it begins.

“You can, but make sure you take good care of it,” John replies indulgently, ruffling James’ chestnut hair and handing him the arrowhead. “Now, how about a lift home?”

James grins as John picks him up and places him on his shoulders, the three of you making your way back towards your house as the sun starts to bleed into the horizon - John regaling you both with stories of historical battles on the land you now walk. You smile indulgently at your boys, enjoying the warmth of the setting sun on your face.

---

“JAMES DARBY!” you hear the roar before John rounds the corner into the drawing-room from his small office next door. “What is the meaning of this?” he exclaims, holding some official-looking papers aloft, with childlike drawings scribbled over them in pencil.

“I... I drew you some pictures, papa,” James replies timidly, his lip trembling. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to make you happy, papa; you looked sad,” he says solemnly. “Drawings make me happy,” James adds under his breath which only you can hear as he sits at your feet.

You see all the irritation drain from John’s face as James’ blue eyes well with tears. John closes his eyes in frustration, then opens them and moves a few paces to kneel, embracing and soothing his son.

“James, I know you meant well with this,” he says after a pause, gesturing at the pages in his hand. “But this is important paperwork related to the family business; one day, you will need this paperwork to run this estate as Viscount. If you want to draw, please use the sketchpads we gave you,” he ends with a weary sigh, kissing James on the head affectionately.

“But I ran out, papa,” James answers, hugging him back.

“You used up all the sketchpads already?” John seems incredulous as he stands back up.

“He really loves to draw, dear,” you point out to John. “Also, it's in pencil; I'm sure we can erase it,” you add to mollify your husband.

“I know that,” he replies, his tone a little short, “I just have absolutely no idea where this incessant urge comes from,” he grumbles before breaking into a bout of coughing.

“Are you alright?” you are concerned; it's the second round of coughing you have heard from him in the last hour.

“I'm fine,” his reply dismissive. “Just a cough; I was in the same office as an old man last week who was coughing; I'm sure it's nothing.”

“Please see the doctor about it,” you request politely as you watch James go back to playing with his toys, “Your mother has just gotten over a bout of her latest ailments; I don't want her to catch something else. Especially not now the autumnal chill is in the air.”

John glances sideways at you, grudgingly acknowledging what you say is correct but not particularly wanting to heed the advice.

“Speaking of, I’m going to spend the evening at the main house with them. Do you care to join?” he inquires, almost as an afterthought.

“I'm fine here with James,” you answer truthfully.

He nods and returns to his office. You are content to let them have Darby family time; chances are he and his father will want to talk family business, and his mother will retire early as she usually does. You would be left alone in the drawing-room there; it's much preferable to be so here, where at least you have your books. Besides, you are happiest in your house at the edge of the estate. It seems a little intimidating to think that one day you will have to move up to the grandeur of the big house when John becomes Viscount. You always pictured life in a more modest dwelling, a country house perhaps surrounded by rose bushes and some woods beyond. Not sure where that image comes from, you shake your head and return to your book.

Only a couple of days later, when you find a handkerchief spotted with blood on his desk, do you genuinely start to worry about John’s persistent cough.

Chapter 2: Moments from a tragedy

They say tragedy comes in threes, and it indeed visits you and your son as such in a very small window of time—one very sad autumn. While the family you married into often seemed plagued with health issues of various kinds, this is still a massive shock.

John’s cough gets progressively worse over the next few weeks, and, once his parents are struck the same way, he is moved up to the big house to be monitored by the trusted Dr Smith. However, despite the doctor's valiant efforts, they all become gravely ill in frighteningly rapid succession.

James Darby is only four and a half years old when he loses three-quarters of the only family he knows and loves - his grandfather, the viscount, his grandmother, the viscountess and his father, John - all to the dreaded consumption. He is just glad you, his beloved mama, are spared. It also means he becomes Viscount Darby before starting school, even though his father never even got to use the title.

Being a widow at 25 is not something you had ever envisaged; neither is inheriting a country estate and various assets. Well, they are inherited by your son, but for all intents and purposes, they will be your custodial concern for at least the next fourteen years.

Mostly you grieve for your son - his whole world turned upside down so young. Your personal grief is muted and subdued. The loss of John’s friendship hurts you more than losing him as a life partner or lover. When someone you have known since childhood dies, it always feels like something is missing.

Your husband John was an only son, and, it turns out, his son is the same. You never managed to conceive another child.

In truth, you never even conceived one together. The more James grows up, the more that fact is staring you right back in the face. Not that John or anyone else ever suspected. But dear god, you know a Bridgerton if ever you saw one. And James is unmistakably a Bridgerton with his chestnut hair and blue eyes. He barely has any of your physical traits or features, but you don't mind. Somehow it is your greatest comfort to watch a miniature copy of the man you truly love growing up. But also your greatest source of guilt. By rights, neither of you should have any claim over the Darby estate. Yet here is your future secured and no living relatives to challenge it.

One message of condolence of the many you receive jogs your heart the most. It’s in beautiful handwriting and accompanies an arrangement of all your favourite flowers. I am so sorry for your untimely loss. You are, always were, and always will be in my thoughts. It’s not signed, but it doesn't need to be; you know who it’s from.

---

“Mama, is papa in heaven?” James asks you over dinner a few weeks after the funeral.

“Yes, darling. Papa, grandma and grandpa are all in heaven. But they still love you very much,” your heart aches as you watch his little mind processing the idea.

“I won't get to see them again, will I?” His voice is quiet, and he looks so sad. You pull him into your lap and drag his plate next to yours so you can eat while cuddling.

“One day, darling, a long way into the future, you will see him again,” you assure, “and he will give you the biggest hug because he misses you every day. Until then, just remember papa loves you very much and is watching down on all the good things you do. And the naughty things, so don't be too naughty,” you whisper and blow a raspberry onto his neck to lift his spirits as much as you can.

“Stop it,” he giggles, pushing you away and spearing some food onto his fork.

You smile, content to see his appetite back after a few weeks of barely eating.

“Mama, I don’t think I will go to the same heaven as papa and grandma and grandpa,” he says after a pause to chew and swallow.

“Of course, you will, darling,” you confirm quickly.

“I mean, I don't think I will go to the same bit of heaven,” he says, his mien thoughtful. ”I will be somewhere else, but maybe I can visit them?”

“Whatever do you mean, James?” Sometimes, you forget this child is only four years old with the intriguing and imaginative things he comes up with.

“I don't know; I just don't think they will be there,” he says with a shrug. “You will be, mama, of course. And my sisters. Not my brother, though.”

“What sisters? Brother? James, what are you talking about?” you look at him, utterly bewildered.

“I will have sisters and a brother one day,” he insists, “and some of them will be there in heaven when I arrive.”

You frown at your child and his unshakable belief in something that makes no sense. It’s not like he even has any cousins he could be mistakenly referring to either. He has been through so much in the last few weeks that you don't want to question or refute his arguments, so you just let the subject drop.

Chapter 3: Moments from a ballroom

After the grief fades over the following months, the overwhelming feeling you are left with is loneliness. It's just you and little James on a vast estate. Yes, there are all the wonderful staff, but no one who is not in your employ to keep you company.

So you decide, not long after James’ fifth birthday, to leave your cottage on the Darby Estate - you still have never moved up to the manor house - and decamp to Darby House in London to partake in the year’s summer social season. Maybe you will see some old friends and their children, be able to catch up and feel the warmth of family and friendship again.

Rather foolishly, it doesn't occur to you who else you might run into.

---

A few weeks later, you arrive in London after a gruelling six-hour carriage ride with just enough time to bathe, change and head out again to the inaugural event of the season, the Danbury Ball. James fell asleep during the journey, and his nanny happily carried him to bed, where he slept all night soundly. You envy him just a little bit.

You should have arrived the day before, you belatedly realise, noting your exhaustion as you pull on your gloves and appraise your reflection. It will just have to do.

As your carriage pulls up into the melee of others outside Danbury House, you have the sudden urge to run back home. It dawns on you this will be the first event you have attended as a widow. You start to fret about everything - who might you know attending? What do you even call yourself - are you a Dowager Viscountess when you never even got to be Viscountess?

Your footman swings open the carriage door, and you realise it's too late. Taking a deep breath, you descend and follow the crowd into the main hallway. The scent of flowers, the melodic musical notes, the sight of hundreds of candles - it's all so very grand.

“Dowager Viscountess Darby!” Lady Danbury exclaims, answering your quandary about your title with the ease of a seasoned hostess. “How delightful to see you back in London after all these years! We were all so aggrieved to hear of your husband's and in-laws' tragic loss last year. Our deepest sympathies.”

“Thank you, Lady Danbury” genuinely grateful for such a warm welcome. “It's rather unsettling to be back in the hubbub of London, after the peace of the countryside, but seeing you and so many familiar faces is wonderful.”

“Please, enjoy your evening, and don't forget there is plenty of champagne to go around”, she ends with a conspiratorial wink before effortlessly flitting her attention to the following people entering the party.

You slowly circle the room, picking up a proffered glass of champagne. You spend a good hour catching up with faces you have not seen in years. Each, in turn, is friendly and offers sympathies. At some point, the endless merry-go-round of greetings becomes a blur of similar interactions, and you crave something a little different.

For a change of pace, you drift to the edge of the dancefloor to watch the young ladies at the debutante ball, all aflutter with excitement and hope of a marriage match. You never got to experience the heady excitement of a season as an eligible Miss, having been matched from so young. You don't even remember a time both of your families did not refer to John as your ‘future husband’. It seems a cruel irony that he was your ‘future husband’ for almost four times as many years as your actual husband. While he was not the love of your life, he was a constant, and his presence is something you miss every day. He was, in many respects, your closest and most trusted childhood friend. It was a shame that you never felt the great love for him you believed you should have owed him. The heart can be a fickle beast.

Speaking of the heart, yours was in for a hell of a jolt. Descending a distant staircase, you suddenly see the man who stole yours six years prior and who, in all reality, still holds it and probably always will. Daily you watch the living, breathing extension of that heart grow more and more like the spitting image of his father - the man you now watch. He hasn't seen you yet, and in many ways, you hope he doesn’t. But oh god, does he look breathtaking. Dressed up as he is in black and white for the formal ball. Looking as handsome as ever. You know you are not the only one who has caught sight of him. He has been a bachelor for far too long and is prime prey for the predator mamas of the Ton, which appears to number most if not all of them.

Then it happens. Like all those years ago, the moth to a flame, he somehow inexorably finds you. His eyes land on you, and you feel akin to a butterfly trapped under glass, helpless and pinned to the spot. You watch as an entire catalogue of reactions crosses his face, likely a mirror image of your own. After a few moments of intense eye contact, he leans toward the person standing next to him, a young woman you don't recognise and says something to her. Still, his eyes don't leave yours. You can tell from her appearance that she's not a Bridgerton, and suddenly you get that oily unrestful feeling in your stomach. That can only mean one thing, surely? Has Benedict Bridgerton done the unthinkable and found himself an eligible woman?

It's ridiculous that your overwhelming emotion is jealousy. You were quite literally married to another man for the last few years. And yet. And yet. That's precisely what it is. Somehow in your mind, Benedict should always always be yours, even if you are not his. A patently absurd notion of ownership.

Before you can entertain any more ridiculous ideas, you decide it's best not to find out anything else tonight. You are mentally and physically exhausted; seeing him just tipped your scales, and there is no other logical course of action to take.

You turn around and flee, not looking back as you enter your carriage and steal off back to Darby House.

Chapter 4: Moments from a drawing room

Mid-morning the following day, after a restless night of haunted dreams, your butler informs you of a visitor.

“There’s a Mr Bridgerton here to see you, my lady.”

Oh, good grief. You wouldn’t mind the ground swallowing you up right about now, but sadly no such convenient fate awaits you.

“Send him in,” you sigh, smoothing down your dress, knowing you will have to explain what happened last night.

“Lady Darby,” he bows politely, entering the room. He, unfortunately for you, looks stunning in the signature Bridgerton blues today. Your body still reacts as it did years ago, as it did last night. He's so much closer than he was yesterday. Within a few feet, too close. Danger, danger is all your mind is screaming.

“God's sake Benedict, just call me y/n,” you bemoan, already frustrated with yourself.

He frowns, slightly perplexed by your outburst “y/n” he amends slowly. “I just wanted to check you are well after you left the Danbury Ball in such a hurry last night; we didn't even get the chance to greet each other.”

“I am fine”, you reassure, gesturing for him to sit opposite you, which he does. “I’d forgotten what a whirlwind those events can be. I've been used to the quiet country life for too long, I suppose. I haven't been to London for years, and I just found it all a bit too much after the journey down yesterday.” you shrug, knowing you are babbling nervously.

“Yes, that's understandable. So there was no other reason?” he inquires pointedly.

“No, why would there be?” Your reply is a little sharp as you distractedly play with a loose thread on your dress.

“No reason,” he schools his expression with a bite of his lip and downcast eyes. Oh, the cocky bastard. You definitely won't give him the damn satisfaction of admitting that, yes, seeing him was part of the ‘all a bit too much’ you alluded to.

“Hubris doesn't suit you, Mr Bridgerton”, you admonish, slightly playful, despite yourself.

He shoots you his signature crooked smile of old, and quite suddenly, all the air has apparently left the room. The warning sign in your mind flashes brighter as your eye contact lingers. Good god, you itch to touch him.

But there are also so many questions. Who was that woman he was with at the ball? Are they a couple? If so, why is he here with you today, flirting as no time has passed?

The noise of a door opening loudly down the hallway breaks the spell between you.

“Well,” he clears his throat, “I just wanted to drop by and check on you briefly, say hello properly after all these years - hello, by the way. I'm on my way to a family lunch; well, actually, I'm already late for it. So I won't bother you any further,” he states, going to stand up again so soon, to your relief and consternation.

You hear a rush of tiny footsteps approaching outside the room and realise there is nothing you can do to stop what is about to happen next.

“Mama, mama, look at what I made!” James comes running into the drawing-room holding aloft a piece of paper, brightly daubed with red, green and blue paint. The paint is still wet and is all over his hands and wrists.

Benedict freezes as James runs by, rooted to the spot. It’s the moment you’ve been dreading and anticipating for more than five years.

James smears paint on his forehead absentmindedly as he pushes a lock of hair away and leans into your knees to show you proudly what he has painted.

“That is a kite, and that is a flower,” he says, getting yet more paint on his fingers as his pointing presses into the paper.

“It’s lovely, darling,” you kiss his cheek indulgently, “but we have company,” attempting to shush his enthusiasm.

James whirls around and looks up at Benedict. Blue eyes meeting blue eyes. Your world shifts. Benedict knows. In an instant. The way any man knows his offspring. The way he looks at you. At his son. At you again. It’s all in slow motion and so fast at the same time.

“This is Mr Bridgerton,” you say to the back of your son's head, your voice unsteady, not wanting to meet Benedict’s gaze again. “Say hello.”

James steps forward and squares his little shoulders.

“Hello, Mr Bridgerton. I’m James Darby, and I like to paint.” He smiles winningly and holds out his picture proudly—quite the introduction.

Benedict crouches to his knee, staring at the boy, his face a kaleidoscope of emotions.

“Hello, James. You can call me Benedict. I also like to paint,” his voice almost cracks on the last word. “That’s a wonderful picture, James,” he adds softly.

“Are you here to paint as well?” James asks with the uncomplicated logic and curiosity of a child.

“Your mummy is an old friend of mine, and we were just catching up”, Benedict answers truthfully, looking over James’ shoulder at you, “it appears we have a lot to discuss.”

You try to ignore his pointed remark.

He focuses back on your son, his son. “But I’d be happy to paint with you any other time, James.”

Your heart flutters at the thought.

James nods and runs out of the room. “Goodbye, Mr Bridgerton! I'm going to paint some cows!” his carefree voice peals from the hallway.

There is silence as Benedict slowly gets back to his feet. You stand up as well; it seems only fitting for the moment.

“Is he?” his voice seems shell-shocked; it's only just sinking in.

“Yes” is all you can say.

“How long have you known?” he sounds winded.

“I think I've always known”, you respond truthfully.

“The… the wedding day?” he questions.

“Could only be”, your responding shrug.

“Are there others? Does James have siblings?” he clarifies when you frown.

“No. We were never blessed” you hang your head.

“I don't think that's because of any fault on your part”, he responds. “James seems very fine, healthy.” That point had never really occurred to you before. James was indeed an uncomplicated pregnancy, always a healthy child. But then, he was never indeed a Darby.

There is a long silence.

“Why did you not tell me?” Benedict hisses.

“I… what good would it have done?” you whisper back, distressed.

“I could have… I don't know,” he gestures vaguely.

“Benedict, James had a wonderful childhood until this tragedy. No one had any suspicions. He was loved by a family; he had a life of comfort and safety. He wanted and continues to want for nothing. He is now a Viscount, for god's sake. He has the same rank as your brother Anthony.”

Your point makes him bristle slightly, which you regret.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” he says after a long moment.

“Thank you, it's been an adjustment,” you reply carefully. “James has taken it all in his stride, considering.”

“Because he has a wonderful mother,” Benedict expresses fiercely.

It makes you look up at his face. Oh god, you ache for him. He is still so so beautiful, just like his son.

“Believe me, more than anything, I want him to know the truth,” you begin, having to look away, “but you know he never can. It would jeopardise everything he has.”

“I know that; I would never want that.” He pauses and closes his eyes for a few moments. “But I would like to get to know him? Spend some time with him? If that's okay?” He hedges, almost nervous.

You exhale a breath you didn't know you had been holding.

“Nothing would make me happier,” you respond a little jaggedly, a tear forming in your eye.

“I don't want to, but I really must go. I'm now so very late for that family lunch,” he says, pained.

“No, no, of course, please do.” You wipe the corner of your eye subtly as you can. “Thank you for dropping by to check on me. And I'm sorry again about last night. It's been a good few years since I was part of the London scene, and it was all slightly overwhelming.”

“I understand, and please, please pass on my goodbyes to James”, his voice hopeful.

“I will”

He moves half a step forward as if to embrace you, and you inhale sharply, wanting nothing more. At the last minute, he seems to change his mind and pulls back, giving you a brief, polite bow and turning on his heels.

You collapse onto the fainting couch, just now realising what an apt name that is.

The following day at breakfast, your butler informs you of the delivery of a child-sized easel and paint palette. He hands you the accompanying envelope. Inside, the note in that beautiful, familiar handwriting reads:

To James, from one artist to another, paint fearlessly, Benedict.

That utterly wonderful, utterly frustrating man.

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton angst #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton

614 notes · View notes

alstroemerian-dragon · 8 months

Text

ouuuuhhh so ive been attempting for a hot minute to associate this particular san fermin song w kuzuhina because i really like the vibes but i couldnt. find the bit. yknow the Bit. the Nugget.

finally found it.

(under the cut. warning: this is an au ramble and it gets Long)

first off:

youtube

okay. the au:

these two kids live in a small town. maybe not super rural, and not right by the big city, but its your typical smaller japanese suburb. neither of them are happy. theyre maybe ten or eleven, but one of them lives in an upper class, extremely controlling household, one where his parents constantly fight, and hes been subjected to at least some level of abuse. he also knows theres something wrong with him, something that makes him different from even his peers, though he cant quite see what it is yet. the other is alone, distant from his parents, distant from his peers, deeply depressed and unaware that hes even himself.

but theyre friends. in some ways, theyre all the other has in this fucked up place, and a majority of their happiest memories are with each other. they make a promise, one night, that someday, when theyre a bit older, theyll run away together. theyll escape this terrible town and theyll travel the world and theyll be together, and everything will be okay.

and then they grow up.

theyre still friends. but now hajime has figured out, to an extent, who he is, started at least socially transitioning as they get into high school. they make other friends, outside of fuyuhiko’s odd relationship with peko (the daughter of one of their family’s servants), find people to connect with. hajime reaches out, gets a crush on chiaki that she returns, maybe they even start dating. he changes.

and fuyuhiko… doesnt.

maybe hes too stubborn, maybe hes been burned too many times, maybe hes just too poisoned by his parents’ rhetoric. but he wont, or maybe cant, step too far outside of the box hes placed himself in. he watches hajime drift, feels panic inside, doesnt know how to fix it. they argue. hajime worries. fuyuhiko shrugs it off.

when theyre seventeen, fuyuhiko’s dad finds out hes been fooling around with other boys. hiding magazines, clearing his search history of anything incriminating. the confrontation doesnt go well.

he has to get out. its the end of the line, at this point. fuyuhiko has to get out. he packs, he plans, he prepares. he waits just long enough to knock on hajimes window, late at night, like he used to when they were kids and hed sneak out so they could run into the woods together.

he asks hajime to come with him. just the two of them, like they promised.

and hajime… says no.

he cant. he cant leave, not now. not when hes built something around himself. he has a girlfriend, a support system, his parents are barely in his life and as soon as he doesnt live with them they basically wont be. hes already preparing for university, locally. he cant just throw all of that out the window.

he tells fuyuhiko that he doesnt have to go. fuyuhiko knows better. wiping away tears and ignoring how it feels like his heart rips in two, he leaves, gets on the first train out of town, and doesnt look back.

hes gone for more than six years.

in that time, hajime goes to university, gets a degree. he and chiaki go steady, they both start hormones, they get good jobs that keep their heads above water. his parents arent in his life anymore. the kuzuryus move out of town, and he and natsumi share awkward goodbyes. she knows, deep down, that the only thing that could have made fuyuhiko stay was hajime, and since that didnt work… nothing could. peko stays, having grown up in her own time, and she and hajime bond over this quiet feeling of emptiness.

hes not sure exactly what it is. he misses fuyuhiko, of course, every day. misses him like a sickness that lingers in his lungs for weeks. but theres a piece of him that doesnt quite fit right, and it takes a long time for him to figure out how its connected.

and then, one day, out of nowhere, fuyuhiko reappears.

theyre in their mid 20s at this point. hes grown, though not much taller. he has scars, shorter hair, tattoos. hes cagey about where hes been, what hes been up to, who hes been with. he mentions traveling, and he mentions hospital visits. at some point, hajime stops asking, because some part of him doesnt want to know. the rest of him is just happy fuyuhiko is here again.

he asks how long fuyuhiko will be in town. the man shrugs, says ‘depends.’ hajime asks if he has a place to stay yet. he says no, he was probably just gonna book a hotel room.

he and chiaki have a pretty comfortable pullout couch, hajime says. if that would be okay for fuyuhikos back.

a bit hesitantly, fuyuhiko agrees.

for a week or two, things are… good. amazing, even. having fuyuhiko back in his life is like a puzzle piece clicking into place, like hajimes found something he didnt even realize he was missing. at first, theyre just catching up, getting lunch, roaming old haunts. catching up on lost time. but then they stop being away from each other at all. its like theyre joined at the hip, unable to be out of each others presence for more than a few minutes, and chiaki starts to notice. of course she does, she and hajime are engaged. she knows him better than he does, sometimes. and she and fuyuhiko were friends too, of a sort. though he wouldnt have let himself admit that.

she sees how he looks at her fiance. she understands, too, that hajime looks back just the same.

and then one night, shes out of the house. out with friends, staying at work late, out of town for the evening, it doesnt matter. its just the two men at their apartment, and hajime breaks out the sake. they drink, even though fuyuhiko generally cant stand the stuff, and they talk about the past.

it gets… personal. strained. they talk about things they probably shouldnt. they get heated, and upset, and they argue, and they say things they dont mean. fuyuhiko admits to being involved with unsavory business on the outside, that yeah, he fell in with the yakuza, and hes kind of on the lam right now if hes honest. hajime says if hed just stayed they could have been fine. he wouldnt be scarred and constantly looking over his shoulder. he would have been okay.

fuyuhiko says he couldnt have bared to be here any longer. that this town was smothering him, was smothering them, and he thought hajime understood that. says that he probably wouldnt still be alive if hed stayed.

in the middle of the fight, he kisses hajime. its something thats lived in his heart for so long, something hes never let himself admit or even indulge in, that even with the distance between them, even with all that time away, he cares so much for hajime. too much. so much so that it makes him reckless and impulsive and a danger to himself. hes not sure if its to prove a point or shut hajime up or stop the argument or just because hes an idiot, and he immediately regrets it, except… hajime kisses him back.

and then he kisses fuyuhiko again.

it doesnt last long. theyre both far too drunk on too empty stomachs, they both feel sick, from nausea and from the sinking realization of what theyre doing. what this means. its late, and theyre exhausted and wrung out, and they both go to sleep, apart. hajime in he and chiakis bed. fuyuhiko on the couch.

early in the morning, when chiaki returns home, that couch is empty. fuyuhikos things are gone. there isnt even a note.

and nearly ten years go by before they meet again.

hajime and chiaki get married. they settle down. they get an actual house, shockingly enough, and they end up adopting a kid. they start to get the surgeries they want and need, they change jobs, they branch out. they have support networks, and more experience just living, and maybe chiaki realizes first, maybe she realized a long time ago, maybe she knows that her husband loves her dearly but understands that there is a piece of him irrevocably tied to someone who isnt there. she knows. she gets it.

she doesnt force it. doesnt bring it up. leaves it to the man she loves to discover on his own, and he’ll confide in her if he needs to.

and then, in their mid 30s, on one nice afternoon, hajime and chiaki take their daughter to the zoo in the city. its warm and sunny, the place is full but not too crowded, and their daughter is around six or seven. shes tugging her dad around by the hand, unbelievably excited, and hajime is indulgent and laughing as chiaki trails after them.

they approach the part of the exhibit where the cranes are, tall and majestic and white, with their curved necks and sharp beaks. hajimes daughter runs to the edge of the balcony, jumping up and peering over it, and he calls after her to slow down, that hes only so fast. she looks back, but something catches her eye.

the man standing beside her, a couple feet away, has his sleeves rolled up.

“daddy!” she calls, as hajime approaches. “why does have pictures on his arms?”

hajime looks, down, at the colors that swirl across the mans skin. up across scars and the loose white dress shirt he wears. the fairly nice camera held in hands with long, lithe fingers that are far too familiar.

hes almost afraid to look up too far. his chest aches.

he does anyway, and meets a single golden eye, soft pink lips parted in surprise, as he and fuyuhiko are face to face again.

they dont have long to take in whats happening. six year olds are curious and far more observant than their given credit for, and hajimes daughter scoots closer, asking about the ink in fuyuhikos arms. what that is, what the pictures are. it distracts him, from staring into hajimes eyes, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he leans down and starts to explain tattoos, that his were very traditionally done, that he usually hides them but it was just so nice today.

he glances back up into hajimes eyes. says he doesnt really care what people think right now.

chiaki, a ways behind them, finally approaches, and greets fuyuhiko warmly. explains to their daughter that hes an old friend, that they havent seen him in a long time, and that her dad and he have a lot to catch up on. picking up the little girl, briefly squeezing her husbands shoulder and giving fuyuhiko a warm, steady look, she walks away, and the two men are left alone.

for a while, neither of them know what to say. finally, fuyuhiko asks about the kid, if shes, yknow, theirs or not. no, hajime laughs, they adopted. but he adores her, takes her to school, runs around with her outside, plays video games with her. theyre just in the city for a day trip, today, and have plans to go out to eat before heading back home.

its silent again, for a while. he asks how long fuyuhiko will be in the area. quietly, achingly. how much longer until i lose you again.

but fuyuhiko laughs a little, fiddles with his camera. hes actually in the city for school, weirdly enough. hes a lot older than most of his peers in his classes, but hes back to get a degree, maybe get a real job. hes done with all the shit from before, cut ties with the yakuza. its the first time he openly admits what hes been doing for the past eighteen years, and hajimes heart aches. that he wasnt able to help, wasnt able to pull fuyuhiko out of that.

they look at each other, and realize they dont know the person standing next to them. not anymore.

but somehow… that doesnt really matter. maybe the new person standing in their place is worth knowing too.

as they talk, hajime texts chiaki. when he gets a response, he invites fuyuhiko to come with them to dinner that night, for old times’ sake. he agrees, and actually joins the three of them wandering around the zoo for the rest of the afternoon too.

they take the train together, eat dinner. fuyuhiko is incredibly sweet with their daughter, falls in love with her instantly. shes bright and curious and talkative and constantly moving, and she points out that hes shorter than even her mommy and he cant even find it in himself to get mad.

at the end of the night, they have to go home. hajime, chiaki, and their daughter back to town, fuyuhiko back to his apartment. they say their goodbyes, and hajime lingers, unable to keep himself from hugging fuyuhiko for far longer than he should, far longer than what would be considered normal. cant stop himself from reaching up and brushing his fingers against fuyuhikos cheek below his fake eye.

he asks if fuyuhiko has a cell number thats available. fuyuhiko smiles and pulls out his phone.

they stay in contact over the next few weeks. their both busy with work and fuyuhiko with school, and they steer clear of talking about anything too hard, but they text almost daily. its not that hajime is neglecting his family either, hes just… there was always some space, a hole in his life that never felt right. and now theres something there, and it doesnt quite fit properly yet, but hes willing to just be happy its there at all.

fuyuhiko mentions reconnecting with peko, reconnecting with his sister. going to classes, exploring the city. he sends dumb selfies of him and his new puppy, and hajime sends pictures back of his daughter covered in paint from when they were painting the bathroom.

a few weeks in, chiaki asks if fuyuhiko should come over for dinner some time, maybe even to stay the night on their couch. like old times. hajime is reluctant, at first, memories of the last time that happened cropping up. but theyre older now, and fuyuhiko has responsibilities and ties, and he cant run anymore. neither can hajime. so he asks, and fuyuhiko says yes, and they plan for it to be a night where none of them have responsibilities in the morning so they can stay up after the kid’s gone to bed.

they do. dinner is wonderful, of course, and they watch a movie afterward to put their daughter to sleep, and once shes been moved to the bedroom, they break out the sake. fuyuhiko refrains, and hajime and chiaki dont drink much, just enough to loosen their tongues. the three of them talk, about the past, about when they were kids, about their families. about chiaki and hajimes transitions, about how they stayed together despite everything, though there were momentary break ups. fuyuhiko talks about his own journeys, about being caught in a spiral with the mob, about debts and violence and breaking out of it. he talks about how deeply in the closet he was for such a long time, how much it was tearing him apart. he talks about his parents, and his sister, how glad he is that she broke free from them after so long. he talks about boyfriends and one night stands and drunken mistakes.

chiaki tries to say something. tries to get them to talk properly. but hajime shuts it down, still unwilling to go too far.

when they turn in for the night, fuyuhiko on the couch, the two of them talk in bed before sleep. chiaki finally verbally says what shes been thinking for so long, that she thinks hajime loves fuyuhiko, has for a long time, maybe since they were kids. that she thinks he should give it a chance. theyre already two trans people, theyre already all queer, whats one more social transgression?

hajime is quiet. its something hes known, he thinks, for a while. just hasnt wanted to admit it. hasnt wanted to ruin what he has, what hes so meticulously built. hes just grateful fuyuhiko is here again, that hes alive and in hajimes life again for the first time in years. he doesnt want to, cant lose that. not again.

so he keeps it locked down. he says he cant, and he doesnt want to talk about it. chiaki, sadly, turns over, and flicks off the light.

in the morning, hajime gets up and finds the couch empty. for a moment, he panics, before realizing there are sounds coming from the kitchen, and when he enters, he finds fuyuhiko making breakfast. hes not doing a great job. hes not really much of a cook. but he wanted to pay them back for how kind and open theyve been, how accepting theyve been of him being back in their lives. he wants to show how grateful he is.

hajime just laughs, and says if he wants to do that, he can show it by letting hajime help so that breakfast doesnt burn. fuyuhiko cant really argue with that. they move around each other like its second nature, like theyve done it forever. like this is how its supposed to be.

when chiaki appears in the doorway, they dont see her at first. but she watches, and she smiles, and when they do notice her arrival, she slots into the dance easily. like there was always going to be space for her.

their daughter is sad that uncle hiko has to go home, but he promises he’ll be back. maybe he’ll even bring a present for her next time he comes over for dinner. that gets her excited. he looks up at hajime and winks, says maybe he’ll bring a present for him and chiaki too. it makes hajimes face feel warm, and he shoves the sappy thoughts away before they can get too strong.

for a while, they live in this limbo. fuyuhiko comes over for dinner, spends time with their daughter, watches movies and plays board games and rants about school with them. he and hajime text constantly when hes not around. his absence leeches into everything, now, far more openly than before, and even for chiaki. she finds herself missing him when she and her daughter watch a movie the girl loves for the millionth time, because the last time they watched it he was here. theres a cold spot on the couch where fuyuhiko should be sitting.

one day, hajime runs into peko, very suddenly. its been a long time since theyve seen each other, with her having her own life, and him being busy with work. they were never that close when they were young anyway. but he asks her to get coffee, spontaneously, and to his surprise she agrees. they talk, skirting around the elephant in the room for a while, but eventually it becomes impossible not to talk about fuyuhiko. peko is happy to hear hes been coming over so much, mentions that she and him have remained in contact as well, though not the extent hes maintained contact with the nanamis. they mostly talk about school, if shes honest.

she admits, quietly, that she used to love him. that part of her probably always will. but shes happy with her girlfriend, and glad that she has him as a friend at the very least. and she thinks hes happier with hajime anyway.

hajime stammers that theyre not, like, together, hes not with fuyuhiko, not like, well, like that. peko just tilts her head and gives him a knowing look, takes a sip of her coffee. says something about chiaki being reasonable, about how it hardly matters. says that the people who really matter wont care.

it lingers in hajimes head for a long time. eventually, he cant stand it, and he sits down with chiaki to have a long talk about this, about how he loves her so much and he doesnt want to leave her, that he cant, but that at the same time, he does love fuyuhiko. he can admit that, finally. he wants to be able to hold fuyuhiko, to kiss him, to be close with him and feel that warmth between them. and all chiaki does is smile, agree that he deserves that, that she wants fuyuhiko in their lives too. that he doesnt have to leave her to be with fuyuhiko. that she wants this for both of them.

hajime plans meticulously. something nice, maybe even fancy, but not too over the top. fuyuhiko likes subtlety, likes class. doesnt like too much attention on something like this. they decide to wait until their daughters class trip, so she’ll be out of the house for a few days, chiaki with her as a chaperone. itll just be the two men.

fuyuhiko is surprised by the invitation, but he doesnt say no. hes nervous, obviously. he doesnt know what hajime does, is scared if taking things too far. hes loved hajime for years, has known for years, and he doesnt want to fuck this up like he did when they were in their 20s. when he was far more hurt and far more scared and far more reckless. hes come to terms with the fact that hes never gonna have more, that he missed out, didnt manage to get the guy, and is happy enough to just have hajime in his life like he does.

they go out to dinner, just the two of them. hajime mentions at least twice that chiaki helped him plan this whole thing, trying to get across her approval. hes not sure it works, and fuyuhiko seems generally bewildered by the heavier atmosphere, confused by hajimes insistence on paying, and how hajime asks him to get in the car but wont tell him where theyre going.

their daughters class trip is for a festival, to see the bigger celebrations in the city. but there are still smaller ones here, in their hometown, and when hajime parks the car on a hill and gets out, and fuyuhiko looks down on the lights of the festival and the garlands and moving rivers of people down below, hes not confused anymore.

okay, maybe thats a lie. he is still confused. but he knows sort of why theyre here.

they sit and watch the lights, watch the sun go down and the stars twinkle into existence. they talk, mostly about nothing, about life, about school and work. they eat karinto, because hajime knows its fuyuhikos favorite, and they make jokes at each others expense and laugh and get close. and then theres a lull in the conversation.

hajime quietly asks if he can try something. asks fuyuhiko not to freak out when he does. as confused and scared as that makes him, fuyuhiko agrees.

and hajime kisses him.

theyre not drunk this time. they dont have that excuse. fuyuhiko is frozen, unsure how to respond, if he should, if hes allowed. when his voice comes back, he croaks something about chiaki. hajime reminds him that she helped plan this whole thing. “even this?” “…well, maybe not down to the exact details. but kissing you was the end goal, so… yeah. even this.”

fuyuhiko cant barely believe whats happening, can barely breathe. hajime murmurs something about needing him, about the hole in his life that had been there so long it had turned to normalcy. how fuyuhikos return had upended that normalcy, had made that hole in his chest ache like crazy because finally something was here that could fill it. how hed denied himself even the ability to consider it because he was afraid of taking that leap.

he says how funny it is, that after all this time, theyre both still running away.

fuyuhiko sets his jaw, cups hajimes face in his hands, and kisses him back.

they stay for a while, on that hill, with the distant sounds of the festival and their sweets forgotten between them. trading kisses and soft touches, hardly any words. its hard not to just get lost in it, this feeling of completion, of two pieces that never quite fit right finally finding the angle that makes them match. hajime insists that chiaki supports this, that when she comes home fuyuhiko can ask her. that she’ll be thrilled. that their daughter will be confused, sure, but ultimately fine. she’ll come to understand as she gets older. it’ll be hard, and weird, and they wont always get to be open about it.

but he doesnt care. he just wants to lie here, pressing his lips to fuyuhikos, and running his hands over the mans skin like its all hes ever wanted in his life.

eventually, they have to leave. its chilly, and theyre both tired and full of both food and warmth. on the drive back, hajimes hand lingers on fuyuhikos thigh, warm and heavy. at some point, fuyuhiko takes it in his own, brings it to his lips and kisses the knuckles. he flushes when he does, and all hajime does is smile and stroke his cheek.

chiaki is, as we already know, supportive. she insists that she knows hajime loves them both, that shes confident in their relationship, and that she cares about fuyuhiko too. they tell their daughter that if she sees daddy kissing uncle hiko, its perfectly okay, and mommy knows and is happy for them. she gets it, eventually. kids are smart, and a lot more accepting of things that people give them credit for.

fuyuhiko still stays in school, aiming for his degree. he still has his apartment in the city. but he comes over as often as he can, for family nights, for dates with hajime, for late nights with the married couple talking about adult things. for babysitting their daughter. uncle hiko becomes one of her favorite people, because hes just a little bit too indulgent, and will let her get away with stuff her parents never would. neither of them mind too much. they love watching him interact with their daughter, love that hes in her life. that hes in their lives.

thats all they can ask for.

#personal #half for half #words on the screen #thats the tag for my writing i think #this is less meta and more. actual writing. its mostly a summary but. Hroughr #idk if ill ever actually write this i have so many other aus and fics to finish #so just take this for now #kuzuhina #thats all ill tag i think. for this #so sorry this got so FUCKING LONG.#im having thoughts and ideas and fucking concepts in my brain #also throwing my poly shit in there because i have no self control and the ‘married hinanami with hiko as their third’ dynamic captivates me

7 notes · View notes

t4tdanvis · 4 months

Note

Please share your headcanons and thoughts on Gene! I wanna hear them!

i have too many i have one million billion thoughts about gene every second its like this every day:

anyways. gene!!!!! i will give a few thoughts/headcanons/paragraph-long rants about him weeeeee

for mystreet specifically:

-gene is a wof fan, dante is a wc fan. gene is quickly outnumbered bc vylad, zenix, and sasha all also like wc, and he is forced (read: willingly does so bc their friends like it. not that she'll Ever admit that tho) to read wc. it actually ends up liking the books (he heavily relates to ivypool... i wonder why... such a mystery... /j)

-gene is very tall and towers over most of the people they know bc theyre 6'3 (he took all of the available height when he was born so now dante is 5'2 /j). she feels very self-conscious about her height at times but usually finds it very entertaining to scarily lean over people (even though none of their friends are scared by that at all bc theyre super skinny and they have the energy of a sopping wet kitten /j)

-during high school, gene is too stressed to deal with gender or sexuality or anything but that does not stop it from hitting him like a truck. and then backing up to run her over again. repeatedly. they are genderfluid and use any pronouns, and they are bi, polyam, sapphillean, demiromantic, and asexual :)

-seems very intimidating to strangers but the second u actually start talking to them they just. arent intimidating at all? he can be a little rude at times (due to the Autism) and is very quiet and closed off, but really hes just shy and bad at talking to people. unless u hurt any of her friends then she WILL murder u

-gene can and will kill fascists. be gay do crime, death to america <3

-gene has freckles :) she also has a ton of piercings, and has heterochromia (one blue eye and one brown eye)

-their first friend ever was sasha. the two of them met whenever sasha was being bullied in elementary school and gene stood up for her. zenix became friends with them later whenever it just... came over to them at lunch in like 7th grade and started sitting with them (it straight up just said "idk where to sit and you both look gay"). the three of them have been inseparable ever since

-gene is very protective over dante (and by extension, travis as well). no one ever messes with dante or travis bc if u do dante is 100% telling his sibling and ur Dead if gene finds out

-scarily good at video games. her favorite game is rain world and she plays it all the time (they managed to beat enots campaign. somehow?????)

-huge crywolf fan. discovered crywolf when her dad was still at home a lot of the time (he ends up being put in jail for life after attempting to murder his wife. so uhhhhh at least hes gone now?? his family still has to deal with the Trauma but hey) and its been a huge comfort for her ever since

-very high spice tolerance. eats carolina reapers for fun <3

for mcd:

-gene was killed via being burned at the stake. he is now terrified of fire (although he pretends he isnt). he was only 18 when he was executed

-while mys gene is transneufem, mcd gene is transmasc. he uses he/they and is a gay trans man :)

-"but how is her gay if he was canonically in love with a woman" WELL! he suffered from the very common transmasc experience of "i knew i was gay but i didnt know i was a man yet so i thought i was just a lesbian". and also bc of the BPD + trauma making him super attached to this one girl

-speaking of that: gene tried to kiss the girl, and she ran off bc she turned out to be homophobic. they tried to erase her memory so she would go back to being their friend, but dante caught them and she ran off while gene was trying to explain (dante thought what was going on was much worse than it was, and didnt realize until it was too late to apologize)

-growing up, genes entire village was very conservative. the abuse he went through went ignored and shoved under the rug, and he wasnt able to come out until he died and became a shadow knight

-fully turned into a shadow knight after murdering their father. he also set his home village on fire and erased everyones memory of him and dante for good measure (in his mind, he thought he was helping dante)

-gene is 6'8. he used to be 6'6 but grew two inches when he became a shadow knight. also they used to have really long hair (bc he wasnt allowed to cut it) but now they have very fluffy hair that ends around their shoulders

-the color red is a huge trigger for him, he hates it

-was launched out of one abusive relationship (his dad) right into another (shad). he didnt realize shad was abusive for a long time bc, well, shad is nice to him a lot of the time, sure he forces gene to commit murder and torture people and gene really feels iffy about that, but he lets gene cut his hair and and wear masculine clothes so he cant be that bad right hahaha? (<- gene is in denial)

-oh nooo now hes getting sent to the Torture Chamber oh nooooooooo oh well (vylad ends up saving him but not before he gets More C-PTSD)

-he tried to use his powers to forget his entire past. it didnt work well. now his memories are just very fragmented and come back/disappear randomly

-he has DID (dante does as well). due to the Trauma

ANYWAYS that is all i have. for now. i have a billion more hcs but i have typed way too much so here u go

#❄.txt #ask box

2 notes · View notes

welcometotheunknownlosers · 2 years

Text

Had a revelation this morning (not really, i thought of this before but it particularly struck me this time)

But Scara,,, hating the Shogun is a (relatively speaking) new development

Cause when he woke up, its canon that he aint got no heart no more, and thus couldn’t feel (+ understand..? Maybe?) emotions

Its only when he gets to the forge and he meets Katsuragi, Nagamasa, and the gang (WHO HE CALLS HIS FAMILY. AAA) that he gets to witness emotions that arent whatever Ei was feeling at that time

So, he wouldn’t even have been ABLE to hate her anyway.

But, being at the forge is really important to his lore, not just because Katsuragi died.

It might just be me, but even though I know it, i tend to forget that like, scara’s a puppet and he was never exactly like,, a baby baby, like how you think of when you hear the word baby. Just a Littol guy.

But that doesnt mean that he NEVER was a baby. He was, just in the way dolls are. So.. when was he a baby? Or at the very least, some sort of child mind?

If you said the forge! That is 100% right. The people at the forge were the first people he ever had prolonged contact with (since technically he did know Ei, and likely Yae too). He’s still young, he doesnt know how people work, he was left alone with like,, nothing except his clothes, literally. So the people like Katsuragi, Nagamasa, Kinjiro, Nozomu, and Miyazaki, they were his FAMILY. They were the people he looked up to. They were the people that he learned from.

And since Scara is just a child here, not only does he take in knowledge of forging, and whatever else they taught him about the world, but he probably MIMICKED THEIR BEHAVIOR. Thats how a child learns how to act around others, copying those around them. And since he can’t feel emotion, what he’s really doing is creating an elaborate mask, that almost replicates what he would have been able to feel if he still had his heart, just it lacked any real feelings behind.

So why is this so important?

Scara, canonically, believed everyone at the forge was good, upright, strong, and or gentle.

But the forge is when he was met with (according to the cutscene) his second betrayal. And I would like to argue its the only of the three that can be accurately classified as a betrayal. Something happens -> Scara tries to help -> His “family” (More specifically, Nagamasa) locks him up for that. It was Nagamasa who called him an “Abomination” (assumed, since it is he who calls scara “neither man nor mechanism”). Of course, Scara is broken out by Katsuragi —> some things happen here that arent relevant to my point —> he comes back, only to find Katsuragi dead. But Scara wasn’t there to see Nagamasa kill him. He didn’t witness the actual reason, probably, he was told by someone, that Nagamasa killed Katsuragi because he believed he betrayed him.

And that is WHERE Scara “learns” that betrayal is linked with death (something we find he uses to describe what happened with his child) and with not wanting someone around anymore (why he subsequently labels Ei abandoning him as a betrayal).

What’s more, is if we look at the aftermath of the Katsuragikiri-Nagamasa incident, it directly parallels with the death of Scara’s child

Nagamasa kills Katsuragi —> He throws the Daitatara Nagamasa, the weapon used, into the fires of the furnace

Something (probably Illness? Or Fatui if we want a conspiracy) kills the child —> Scara burns down the house with the body in it

Might that be a stretch? Probably. But to me it shows just how much influence these people had on Scara, specifically Nagamasa. While he saw Katsuragi as a friend, he likely saw Nagamasa as an authority figure. And we all know authorities are such g r e a t role models. (Also, im 99.99% sure that the Raiden Gokaden incident was also inspired by this, except I no longer know where to put it in my timeline of events so we will wait and see)

But the true extent of it is only shown once Scara gets his delusion.

His delusion, gave him access to emotions! Something he wanted!

But only the negative ones. Thus, suddenly he can accurately mimic the worst traits from everyone he met, and unfortunately, that includes Nagamasa.

Proud, Upright, Stubborn, Obsessed Nagamasa, gives these traits to Scara, who takes them, and because that is all that he can replicate, takes these traits, along with misguided beliefs that he made along his journey, and multiplies them tenfold.

THAT is when he starts to enjoy being superior to others

THAT is when he becomes the most despised Harbinger

and THAT is when, such as how Nagamasa wished to remove himself from Chiyo’s misdoings and tried to prove that his family is still honorable despite what the Shogun might believe, Scara wishes to remove himself from the emotions that made Ei discard him in the first place and prove to her that he IS worthy of being a God

THAT is when he decides that he hates Ei

I forget what i wanted to put as my conclusion oh actually never mind i remember. I dont hold Nagamasa accountable as its not really something he had control of (except for killing Katsuragi. That one is on you buddy) i just think its neat and i might be totally wrong but who knows. Im not a psychologist lol.

#scaramouche #scaramouche theory #scaramouche genshin #genshin theory #genshin #genshin impact #genshin 3.1 spoilers #3.1 spoilers #katsuragi #mikoshi nagamasa #scaras child #ei #idk i just like seeing parallels #i know for certain ive absorbed behaviors from my friends #and it just seems that scara is the prime target for personality absorption

34 notes · View notes

mockingbirdshymn · 1 year

Text

for someone who loves preston to hell and back i do not post about him as much as i should

OK dusts off jeans ITS TIME FOR PRESTON TIME (headcanons v2?)

he overthinks everything all of the time. like, all of the time. he needs things to Be Perfect, and he wont allow them to not be. he drafts and redrafts and redrafts every play he writes. this is potentially a reason his plays arent as... quality as they could be. he overthinks things and ends up with a rigid, rushed storyline, but at least it has proper grammar.

preston does most of the chores around his and gram gram's apartment, mostly because it hurts her hips/back to do them herself. she gives preston chore money in return.

preston has a photo album of his family dating back to his great grandparents. it has entries from them, their hopes for the future, and pictures of their lives. preston finds it interesting.

preston backseat drives pretty often. this is mostly due to the fact his grandmother is not the best driver out there and he often has to correct her.

preston gets very emotional over movies/games/books. especially dog movies. he loves them, but every time he rewatches them, he bursts into tears.

preston writes in mostly cursive, unless hes being rushed.

when he was a kid, gram gram knit/sewed most of his costumes for his one-man plays

preston loved english class in elementary school because of the poem projects. he always made wild interpretations of popular poems for these. most of them were wrong, but he got points for effort at least

preston would have a plant, call it his pet, end up killing the plant, then hold a funeral for it

he is very good at improv. this makes him very funny, because he easily expands upon already funny jokes.

preston's back hurt like shit after the wcc episode. you cant tell me his spine isnt severed in half or some shit

preston writes letters to himself a year in the future, asking himself questions and reminding him to do things if he hasnt already done them.

preston is very extroverted. he needs to be around at least another person or he'll get very upset

preston has a google document of blackmail (jokingly) of his friends

hes worried his gram gram is slowly getting dementia, because of her forgetting so much. he doesnt know if thats because of dementia or something else

whenever preston sends letters, he uses a wax seal. he got it from a kit off of amazon. its his favorite part of sending letters

preston has so many blankets. throw blankets, comforters (just ones in a closet, not even for his bed), fort-blankets, weighted blankets, super soft blankets, knit blankets, quilts, everything you can imagine. this makes blanket forts very fun with him

before wanting to be an actor/playwright, preston wanted to be a baker, then an artist, and then a singer. actor/playwright stays as his dream job after he gains it.

preston often sleeps in on school days by mistake. its rare he actually gets up on time. probably because he stays up incredibly late most days

preston would burn the house down in case of a spider, no doubt

preston was so upset at the dear evan hansen movie and how it turned out. he was So Angry

preston cant watch horror. if he does, he will faint

speaking of fainting, thats something he does a lot. he also has low iron. is that connected? he doesnt know

preston gets very motion sick, and he does not like rollercoasters at all

preston is very dedicated and stubborn. if you say "its nothing" in regards to something that is very much not nothing, he will find out what that something is.

#tw dementia #ig #camp camp #cc preston #headcanons #cc gram gram #cc preston's grandma #“fuck queue harrison”

7 notes · View notes

matoitech · 1 year

Text

my thing w aina is that i just genuinely love her and find her character and relationships and the little bits of narrative and arc trigger never went anywhere with compelling and fun and easy to flesh out. i love that shes like contrasted by or paralleled with galo and what u can say abt her and her relationship w her sister and how she feels abt and views herself and other characters thru that (i wont get as much in2 that rn cuz thats usually what i focus on but i got another goal w this post and its Fandomification Tropes of relationships esp wrt the male protag), her and galo have good chemistry that fandom ppl r too scared to do anything with in a funny way bcuz they r scared of it being read as romantic if they make galo and aina interact for Too Long or something (and fandom ppl hate remembering bisexuals exist so that concept is horrifying to them anyway) so they either ignore her, or try to fit her into ‘best friends’ with galo (they dont actually rly like each other all that much tho yeah i would like if they became FRIENDS post promare) or ‘like siblings’ with galo (what?? and also, i will just keep repeating it but burning rescue are not Found Family especially not in the sort of way mad burnish can be interpreted) or shes stuck into the Lesbian Wingman role, which also isnt in character, bcuz while she like Cares about him in the movie n everthing, she doesn’t give a shit what galo does or what his love life is like bcuz he’s just her weird coworker she likes arguing with and knows practically nothing about on like a personal level, she was learning basic shit abt him like In The Movie events. like i think a lot of the time w female characters in media that arent given anything ppl r like oh i like her out of spite to the studio and to the fandom which is like fair but i dont even like her like entirely Out Of Spite i think she has a lot going on thats overlooked mostly bcuz a lot of it happens in the lake scene and ppl r just like lol straightbaiting scene and then move on. and anyone whose been around w me for long enough knows how much i LOVED writing essays abt everything going on w the lake scene

#promare

7 notes · View notes

fangirlfreak08 · 1 year

Text

Episode 8 thoughts

Omg I’m almost done

Honestly loving all these intros, although my favourites still the crow one

Ohhh wait no nikolais gonna get attacked in the chapel isn’t he

KAZ GAVE NIKOLAI HIS CANE THEY ARE IN FACT BEST FRIENDS

WYLANS HOLDING JESPERS HAT

my man! I mean we haven’t actually put a label on that have we? GOD I LOVE THEM JESPERS SUCH A DISASTER BI I CANT

FINALLY SOMEONE SAID I LOVE YOU

Ding dong mals dead

SLAY ALINA

Darkling shut up. No one cares and I mean that literally

SLAY SHE DID IT GUYS

NIKOLAI NOOO

INEJ GHAFA DOING A SPIN MIDAIR WAS SOMETHING I DID NOT KNOW I NEEDED

Lol look at him talking about how he’s gonna live while he’s dying

Slay Alina you will in fact save yourself

Inej save her life rn

OMG SHE THREW THE SWORD SLAY INEJ I LOVE HER SO MUCH

Are they seriously tryna push the darklina agenda rn?

OMG NO SLAY SHE JUST FUCKING STABBED HIM

AS SHE SHOULD

Why’s his blood black?

NIKOLAI MY BELOVED ITS GONNA BE OKAY NOT FOR A LONG TIME BUT EVENTUALLY IT WILL BE

Kick him zoya he deserves it

IS BURNING THE DARKLINGS BODY THE BONFIRE THE CAST WAS TALKING ABOUT?? DO THEY LITERALLY HAVE A BONFIRE AROUND HIS BODY?

Also there’s still 49 minutes left I’m not entirely sure I want to watch them

Who’s body?

KAZ KNOWS POETRY?!

God Nikolais best mates dead and he’s so heartbroken

Kaz go to Inej challenge

Does Alina not lose her powers?

Not Kaz watching Inej

Nikolai and zoya in the same sentence….that it. Is that all we’re getting?!

THEYRE JUST STARING AT EACH OTHER

JESPER I LOVE YOU BUT FUCK OFF

YES KAZ GET THAT MONEY

Tamar and Nadia holding hands!

JESPER BROKE THE FOURTH WALL

OH SHIT WHAT?? DOES MAL NOT LOVE ALINA ANYMORE?!

Nina and Kaz being besties

Nina talking about clawing her way to a happily ever after and KAZ LOOKING AT INEJ

NO MATTHIAS DO NOT TEAM UP WITH PEKKA

NO NO DAVID BETTER NOT BE DEAD ALREADY

NOT A RUBY AND THE DESIGN FOR A RING NO FUCKING WRITERS NEED TO CHILL THE HELL OUT WHAT THE FUCK

IT WAS BAD ENOUGH IT WAS THEIR WEDDING DAY BUT THEY DIDNT EVEN GET ENGAGED

WHY IS THE DARKLING GETTING MORE OF A FUNERAL THEN DAVID

Zoya and Nikolai finally in the same place and they’re not even gonna flirt

Ngl them having this conversation over the darkling burning corpse is a power play

AHHH THE BEE OMG THATS SO SMART THATS ACTUALLY SO SMART CAUSE ONLY SHOW WATCHERS ARENT GONNA NOTICE ANYTHING

OMG WHAT MALS GONNA BE A PRIVATEER?! WHAT

Yeah but if your paths are that you both decide not to see each other again that’s not really proving anything is it?

MAL DIDN’T GET THE TATOO THANK GOD

Bestie Alina don’t cry he’s really not worth it

INEJ PRAYING IN THE CHAPEL

Is that Kaz brekker? Yes it is!

AYYY MATTHIAS GOT HIS PARDON

AHHH HES SAYING GOODBYE BUT KAZ BREKKER DOESNT SAY GOODBYE

HES BEEN SENDING SPIES TO AUCTIONS TO TRY AND FIND THE GUY WHO KIDNAPPED HER

HE WAS LOOKING FOR HER FAMILY BECAUSE HE DIDNT WANT HER TO LOSE HER BROTHER

INEJ PRAYS FOR JORDIE

WHAT DO YOU WANT THEN?!?!! AHHHHH HE WAS GOING TO SAY YOU INEJ YOU AND THEN HE CHANGED HIS MIND AND SAID ABOUT THE GOLD

HIS MOUTH STARTED MOVING TO SAY YOU AND THEN HE STOPPED HIMSELF

HE ASKED HER TO STAY

FUCK OFF IM NOT OKAY RIGHT NOW

OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

STAY IN KETTERDAM STAY WITH ME

I WANT YOU TO I WANT YOU

THEYRE TECHNICALLY HOLDING HANDS

AND HOW WILL YOU HAVE ME

I WILL HAVÉ YOU WITHOUT YOUR ARMOR KAZ BREKKER OR I WILL NOT HAVE YOU AT ALL

I CANNOT COPE WITH THIS LIKE AT ALL

Off topic but Inej looks so gorgeous

ITS THE WAY THE TWO MAIN KANEJ SCENES IN THIS SHOW BOTH TAKE PLACE IN PLACES OF WORSHIP?!

THE HOPE IN HIS EYES WHEN SHE SAID I WILL HAVE YOU

AHHHH NADIAS GOING WITH TAMAR

AHHH MALS STURMHOND NOW?!

OMG INEJ IS GOING WITH

FUCK OFF NO WHAT

I WAS CONCERNED A FEW EPISODES BACK THAT TOLYA WAS CRUSHING ON INEJ AND NOW IM SCARED AGAIN

ISNT HE ARO IM PRETTY SURE HES ARO

It’s giving pirates of the Caribbean theme song

YES INEJ IS HUNTING SLAVERS

BUT MAL IN NIKOLAIS COAT IS DODGY

NO MATTHIAS HAS TO FIGHT WOLVES

PEKKA ROLLINS GO KILL YOURSELF RIGHT NOW

MINOR SLAY FROM MATTHIAS?!

OOOOO NINAS PIIIISSED

Oh shit Nina the letter!!

HES BUYING OUT INDENTURES FOR INEJ

AND THAT GIRL KESH FROM THE FIRST EPISODE

Aaaaaa slay Nikolai

Nooooo Nikolai

HE LOOKS LIKE THAT FANART THE OUTFIT DOES WITH THE BREECHES

AHHHH HES TURNED INTO A DEMON

SLAY ALINA HONESTLY THAT CROWN IS A GOOD LOOK

NOT UNLESS YOUR THINKING OF ME INSTEAD OF TRYING TO FORGET HIM

AHHH NIKOLAI AND ZOYA IN THE SAME ROOM AGAIN

Zoya and genya are also looking gorgeous

YES ZOYA YOU COULD INDEED FIX HIM

Omg so is the triumvirate gonna be zoya genya and Alina rather than David?!

But I look amazing in blue YES YOU DO

OMG ZOYA CALLED THEM A TRIUMVIRATE (which is also not how I thought it was pronounced like at all)

AN OPPORTUNITY HAS PRESENTED ITSELF METHINKS ITS THE ICE COURT

WHICH MEANS THEY HAVE TO GET INEJ BACK NO?!

Ayyyy nikolais officially king

Are divorces a thing? If Nikolai and Alina get married then they just get divorced and Nikolai can end up with zoya right??

JURDA PAREM

SHES GONNA TRY KILL NIKOLAI

Oh god turn nikolais coronation into a bloodbath why don’t you

Slay Alina

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone spoilers

2 notes · View notes

skinnymeanfaggot · 1 year

Note

give me some auburnshine facts i have become fascinated with her

omg girl ever

shes either half or full kittypet descendant, i havent decided because her parents arent super relevant. either one was a warrior and the other was a kittypet that joined, or they both were kittypets that joined. but shes part munchkin. the clan never minded the heritage because a lot of them were adopted in, but shes always had a bit of difficulty hunting/fighting due to her short legs. her littermate scarletleaf has this problem, but her younger siblings foxpaw and hawkpaw werent born as munchkins

she grew up with scarletleaf, heronclaw and juniperstem and all the clan loved her because shes very sweet and outgoing. she would always try to include juniperpaw in things because he was a little more introverted. a very good friend to both him and blazingpaw

on the topic of blazingpaw/burning red she finds slapstick comedy fucking hilarious. like blazingpaw falling out of a tree bellyflopping into the river was the funniest thing shes seen in her life ever

obviously for blazingpaw/heart it was love at first sight and she was like wow yeah were such good friends! and then oh wait, he likes me? well clearly that means i like him too right? i think? idk im hormonal and i wanna hook up. and then later realizes her feelings were just Close good friend and was like sorry blazingheart. and broke it off.

she likes being a queen, she was always good with kits and apprentices and likes taking care of her kits, but also by the time theyre 6 moons shes like Oh thank god. because shes chubby and blazingheart is Massive and she has 4 kids so theyre all stuffed in the nursery and theyre all bigger than her. so she liked going out on walks. not really hunting or fighting though

loves her family, loves blazingheart and juniperstem (platonically). she.... never learns about blazingheart and hollowlight, because juniper/heron/blizzard are really the only ones in riverclan who put that together, and with who hollowlight ends up killing juniperstem decides like, hey, maybe its better if we just dont tell her. because like. if she ever did find out blazingheart liked them! she would be pretty mad! she would be really upset! she HATES them so much. like all of riverclan has it out for them but no one hates them as much as she does. so juniperstem is like Lets just not bring this up

#.txt #ocs

2 notes · View notes

achilles-the-boy-of-gold · 3 months

Text

Things I wish I could tell you,(name of my best friend/crush/love of my life) (I just needed to get this out somewhere, soooooooo you get a super long rant of things I wish I could tell her)

I do everything for you. I base every action over your thoughts and opinions. I shape my very personality over yours. My music taste is the same as yours. I watch gilmore girls because of you. I think about you 24/7, litterally. The thing is, because of this, shouldnt i resent you? Shouldnt i hate you? Why dont i? Why do i love you with every ounce of my being? Why do i know that if you were in a burning building, i would fo anything to get you out, even if it meant leaving the people i care most aboyt inside? Other than you of course. You are the person i care the most about. I feel like i know so much about you, and that i am so much like you, but i always want more. I wish i could physically crawl inside your chest and become you, see every crack, every inch, everything that makes you you. I want to hear your every thought, your every conversation, all of your opinions, whether i agree or not. (Walnuts are terrible, and book covers are stupid). But, even then, if i felt inclined, i would change my opinions because of you. If i were alergic to peanuts, and you liked them, i would eat a million, just to be able to see the world from your view. You are my eveyything. You are my philtatos(most beloved). I know you think that you are a burden, or hard to love, but you arent. That part is left for me to play my dear, dont try to argue it. I wish you could see yoursekf from my eyes, because you are so beautiful. So amazing. I dont think i could find one i could ever adore more than you my love. I know you dont love me like i love you(possibly at all, doesnt matter) but thats fine. If you hate me, please tell me so i can back off, but that wont change my feelings in the slightest. I will still love you. Still need you. You will still be that last thing i think about when i fall asleep, and my first thought in the morning. I would still stalk your mom's facebook page for pictures of you, grinning wide at each one. I would still be jealous of (name of one of her other friends who I've never met) and the rest of the (her family's last name)'s because of your affection toward them. The snowball fights you never have with me, then selfies weve never taken, the excitement in your eyes whenever you get to see her, a fraction of the excitmememt in mine when i get to see you. But its fine. Our relationships are just different. You still care about me(i think). I just wanted you to know that i am all yours love. Forever

0 notes

nicekaylee · 4 months

Text

SEPTEMBER-DECEMBER 2023

took a vacation after the show failed to love my life again and stepped away from music 2. somebody moved into my studio so couldnt work on my album 3. went outside a looot more and met new friends. 4. met someone that WAS.... the person i was looking for, full of life and loud and hype and talented and beautiful and a spirit i resonated even deeper bc she also had ADHD. 5. started doing sunday jazz nights 6. made some new KAIYEME music and animations and art. 7. Did a new VICE KAYLEE show in October 9th and actually went amazing and well planned this time. FINALLY. 8. Fell in love or really liked or got into a fake delusional relationship/situationship with that girl. and it ended terribly. was amazing until it wasn't (september-december) we're barely friends and we barely talk now. i still love her unconditionally and i hope she gets better and i hope i get better. She is not the one that makes my life...better sadly, because i don't make hers. and i have issues too. but she does too. (it will drive me insane explaining this) 9. i learned to not be a carpet mat that gets walked on and grew thicker skin. 10. i lost my best friend of 9 years, he blocked me on everything. because i have a problem with over sharing. which i don't really.. i've just been extremely stressed out and it's not pathological. 11. im still not done with my album, i still havent progressed in life. 12. i started to skate and started adventure time for the first time ever. its amazing and skating feels so good. 13. me reymun are stronger friends than ever and will continue to be strong for black color that we still believe in. stanley and endee and are closer too but not as much as me and reymun. 14. had the best day of my whole year for an hour and 30 mins at a bouncy place with reymun and two girls from our past live shows. (december 30th) 15. Dec 31st im suicidal

and i still feel lonely i want to feel gratitidude or thankfullness for what i have. but two close people arent even there for me anymore. im burning on the inside. i've been rageful for the first time in my life like this. i might find faith this next year. i ran out of ideas. and only feeling more pain. and no love. wheres my family. my friends are fucked up because the way i prioritize them is fucked up. i dont feel like anything is real. i dont feel like anythings matters because i keep getting into the same cycle of nothing happening, and everybody gets to move forward in life. And i keep losing MORE in return. no love, no recognition. therapy never happened, they tried to cut me off. no money made. no love, no true bonds. reymun is close but lets keep it work safe.

but honestly im terribly alone and in pain and desperately need help, and love. i want to feel it, please

0 notes

l-sincline · 5 months

Text

Girlish Whimsy Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Previous / Next

AO3 tags: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types, Ootori Kyouya/Original Female Character(s), Ootori Kyouya, Suoh Tamaki, Original Characters, Original Female Characters, Morinozuka Takashi, Haninozuka Mitsukuni, Fujioka Haruhi, Hitachiin Hikaru, Hitachiin Kaoru, Slow Burn, Acquaintances to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, smart people that arent smart about romance, Oblivious, Battle of Wits, Ouran High is one giant social chess game

Asuka has her eyes on the prize as soon as she steps foot on Ouran High School grounds. Her goal? Impress her father enough to convince him to let her remain as heir to the company instead of handing the title down to her younger brother. She knows going to school at Ouran will be one big chess game, especially coming in late at her second year- but she’s up for any challenge.

Asuka finds herself intrigued by the Host club and the inner workings of it. More than that, she sees untapped opportunities to grow her resume. Now all she needs is a partner on the inside who’s equally as motivated, and he was easier to find than she thought.

“We’ve arrived.”

Asuka stared up at the Ootori estate from her spot inside her family car. It was huge. Much larger than her own home, which she already thought was very large to only house four people. This was a different level– but she supposed she expected that.

“Miss Kaneko?”

She jumped and looked back at the driver.

“Sorry. Thank you. I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave.”

“Of course.”

Asuka cracked the door open and stepped out, her low heels clacking quietly on the pavement. She patted off her slacks and adjusted her loose turtleneck. Maybe she’d bitten off more than she could chew. Regardless, it was better that she just press forward now.

She made her way up the front steps and rang the doorbell. Her computer bag weighed heavy on her shoulder, and she held her notebook against her thigh. Clicking her tongue, she waited. The stress of unfamiliar territory made it feel a little long, but soon enough a maid had come and opened the door.

“Miss Kaneko?”

“Yes.”

“Please come wait in the drawing room.”

Entering the Ootori household was like entering a different world. The interior of the house was much bleaker than the outside world. It was minimalistic, everything had a specific purpose. Even things whose purpose was to decorate seemed perfectly picked, cleaned, and placed. There was no plant life, just stark lights and clean corners.

“Please, sit.”

She dipped her head slightly to the maid and took a seat on a gray couch. She ran a hand along it- the fabric was pristine and well kept. She wondered if it was new. The rest of the room was no different from the hallway, though it had large windows that the early morning sun gleamed through. The room illuminated by its rays made it much less sad– though she could imagine how dreary it might get once the sun set.

“Kaneko.” The curt call came from the drawing room’s entryway. Asuka dragged her eyes away from the large windows.

“Ootori.”

He gestured for her to follow him, so she picked up her bag and did.

Admittedly it was rather shocking to see him dressed so casually. Though he still looked fairly put together, she felt a little overdressed. Though, she always tried to dress like this when she left the house. Would she have been more lax if they had chosen her place to work? She couldn’t be sure. What she did know, however, is that she was glad they were here instead– her mother would’ve made too much fuss over an Ootori in the house otherwise.

Kyouya finally stopped at a door and pushed it open. It was a meeting room office of sorts. It housed a long table with chairs lining the sides, the large windows remade their appearance across from the door, and large bookshelves lined the walls to the left and right. Kyouya’s laptop and some papers were already propped open at the left end of the table. She followed and sat across from him.

“You brought the company we were assigned?” He questions as she starts pulling her things out of her bag.

“Yes, right. One second…”

“We could add another slide with our predictions for next year’s fiscal period.” Asuka suggested.

“If we did that we should add another for the year before this one.” Kyouya ‘hmm’d, writing something down in his notebook.

“I mean, we got this much done in one day. Two more slides couldn’t hurt.” She shrugged, leaning back in her seat and sipping the tea that had gone cold– she wasn’t sure how long ago it had been brought to them.

“You’d have to come back tomorrow.” He warned, not looking up.

“It’s not that late- let’s just do it now.”

“It’s ten pm.” He looks up, surprise echoing on his face.

“Huh.” Asuka looks over to the clock, “You’re right.”

Kyouya furrowed his brows at her. She frowned.

“I got distracted, looking at all these numbers is fun sometimes– alright?”

He leaned back and took off his glasses, glancing up to the ceiling and pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back down to her. Frankly she couldn’t be sure how bad his eyesight was, but he didn’t squint.

“You’re much different than I imagined.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“No.” He was quick with that one, “We’ve been talking about this work all day. I’m making polite conversation.”

“I’m not sure telling someone they don’t fit your preconceived notion is polite conversation, but I’ll bite.” Asuka rolled her eyes, “What exactly did you think I was going to be like?”

“Well,” He started, “Mayu is much more outgoing than you. I figured birds of a feather would flock together.”

“Ha.” Asuka laughed dryly, “Because you and Suoh are so similar, yes?”

“I’ll give you that.” Was all he said.

They sat in silence for a moment, Asuka tapping her pencil on the table.

“Alright, here's one for you then:” She started, “Why the Host Club?”

“What do you mean?” He reaches forward and grabs his glasses, placing them back on his face.

“A Host Club to entertain young women is hardly the place I’d imagine the Ootori family’s third son to be hanging around. You’re all known to be quite the put together bunch.”

“We can’t have a dark side?”

“You can’t have a dark side.” Kyouya laughs, it’s short, in return.

“Why's that?”

“You’re avoiding the question.” Asuka grins, reaching forward and shutting her laptop. “Why is Kyouya Ootori Vice President of the Host Club?”

He sighs, reaching forward to shut his laptop as well.

“As intellectually interesting as this conversation may be, I’m afraid information like that doesn’t come free of charge.”

“You want something from me?”

Kyouya stops his movement and looks up to Asuka, brows furrowed again. She raises her own brow in return, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You are very straight to the point.”

“I don’t have time to beat around the bush.” She stands, sliding her laptop and papers back into her bag and hanging it on her shoulder. She pushes in the chair and then stops, “Look, I have three years to impress my father– I think you’re in a similar situation. All I’m saying is that today showed me we might be evenly matched when it comes to hard work. If you think I’m as useful as I think you are, you have my number.”

Asuka doesn’t wait for a response, and instead turns and walks towards the room’s door.

“Kaneko.”

“Yes?”

“Have a maid escort you out.”

#sinclines writing #girlish whimsy #ouran high school host club #oc x canon #kyoya ootori #kyouya ootori #original character #ohshc #ohshc fanfiction

0 notes