#I know what she’ll say to it anyway which is that it isn’t her fault
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vent post lol
#Love how my sister is like wow ur so autistic haha#until the second I get upset bc a plan changes or a routine breaks#or she asks me to stop everything I’m doing to accommodate her#and then she’s like what’s your problem? What’s wrong with you??#Frustrated that I can’t explain that I finished my plan of cleaning for four hours with an hour and a half left#so that I can finally practice piano before going to move furniture w my other sister#without sounding like I’m selfish w a martyr complex.#I know what she’ll say to it anyway which is that it isn’t her fault#so why am I mad at her#But I’m not! I’m not! I’m just upset. And I’m doing#literally everything she asked but she’s still asking what my problem is.#love how it’s wow ur such an autistic nerd#until I take smth too literally so they all make fun of me for not obviously makinf the correct inference#or need a schedule#or get pissy when I have everything set up and I just earned this time with hours of work for them#work that tbh I should’ve had more help with#and yeah yeah I don’t do everything and I do try to stay away from that mindset#but it also doesn’t change the fact that I cleaned 85% of the house by myself for smth that the whole family is going to be at#and also mowed the lawn and took care of the animals and put away the groceries#boy. I’ll get over it I guess#like I said I’m not mad at her I get why she asked and it’s more important for her to write an essay than for me to practice#it’s just upsetting. it’s just upsetting.
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Petulance
pairing: silco x fem!reader (nsfw)
AO3
summary: Silco sends you away to try to get some work done and you decide to be a horrendous little shit about it.
tags: fluff, smut, established relationship, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), good ol' mating press, teasing, bratty reader, simp silco
word count: 5.4k
adorably aesthetic mdni banner by @cafekitsune
a/n: hello! this is my first time writing in a looong while almost 10 years to be exact please don't look at me. but I had to get back into it with this shamelessly self indulgent fic of my favorite brooding king pin. I hope you enjoy!
Silco had thought it a bit odd at first, the ease with which you’d taken your leave from his office tonight. Ordinarily when he’d attempt to send you away in favor of getting his paperwork done in a more timely manner, you’d put up some form of sulky little protest.
An overemphasized pout coupled with a look of feigned sadness, eyebrows furrowed together when you’d offer to assist him with said work. Your reason being that it would ‘probably get done faster’ between the two of you.
A lie, and a blatant one at that. You were, on all counts, absolutely shit at keeping your focus on any tasks he’d try to give you. You knew it. He most certainly knew it. Truly he’d wonder why you’d even bother offering at all if you just spent most of the time trying to distract him anyway.
Still, he can’t say he isn’t amused by your actions. He finds these juvenile acts of yours terribly endearing for the most part, and even starts to look forward to them, knowing full well that he'll give in to just about anything if you’d simply ask it of him.
Which is why he can’t help but feel somewhat disappointed when you don’t do any of this at all, and Silco starts to regret his idiotic suggestion entirely until you throw a cheeky smirk his way instead.
“Alright, I think I’ll go bug Sevika for a bit.”
A single eyebrow quirk, followed by a low hum of approval.
“I’m sure she’ll be positively thrilled by that,” he replies, suppressing a smirk of his own at the thought of his second in command being pestered by someone almost half her size.
He’s still disheartened by your willingness to leave, but ultimately makes peace with it knowing that you’d more than likely return at some point. You give him a small wave with your fingers followed by a wink over your shoulder, and Silco doesn't hesitate to drag his gaze over your body shamelessly as it saunters out of his office.
About an hour passes, and the music coming from downstairs is just starting to pick up for the evening. You enter the room with a fluid sidestep, leaning back against the door once it closes behind you. His good brow raises slightly. “Back so soon?”
You don’t answer at first, instead making your way over to one of the tables in his office, like a cat quietly stalking about until something catches its interest. He watches you methodically as you settle for one of Jinx’s old trinkets that had been long discarded, carefully turning it over in your hand. “Sevika called me a menace.”
This time he makes no attempt to hide the subtle upturn from the corner of his lips. “I’m afraid I’m inclined to agree with her, my dear.”
“She seems pretty cranky tonight.”
“Hm, surely through absolutely no fault of your own.”
You bite the inside of your cheek in what he can only assume is an attempt to stifle a giggle before turning to face him with an adorably giddy expression that makes his chest tighten.
“Whatcha doin’?”
So innocent, as if you were completely unaware of the effect you had on him. Silco doesn’t answer you verbally, merely bringing his forehead to rest against his hand and lifting the piece of paper he’s holding in the air with the other. The sullen face you make doesn’t go unnoticed by him as you turn to put the gadget back down with an airy sigh.
“Well,” you drag the word out. “I guess I’d better let you get back to it.”
“Yes, that would be nice,” he says in turn, though it comes off more teasing rather than the displeasure he’s trying to convey.
You study his face for another beat or two before you finally respond. “Okay, if that’s really what you want.” It’s not. Not even in the slightest. “I’ll go see if Thieram needs any help at the bar.”
“My love, Theiram is more than capable of handling his responsibilities as a bartender alone. It’s why I hired him, in fact.” He pauses. “Have you perhaps considered staying up here and behaving yourself, rather than looking for more ways to wreak havoc amongst my employees?”
For a moment Silco thinks that he may be tipping his hand too soon, fearing that you’ve caught on to the fact that he’s basically been doing fuck all except sitting here and waiting for you to come back to his office. His suspicion only rises with the way you’re tilting your head and downright beaming at him with ill-disguised glee, like you’d been reading his every thought.
“If I stayed up here it certainly wouldn’t be to behave myself.”
The paper he’s holding makes an audible crunch sound, his hand crumpling the edge of it faintly in response to your suggestive remark.
Before he has the chance to reply with some snarky comment, you’re already heading towards the door, making a show of swaying your hips and giving him another view of the delicious swell of your backside before you take your leave again. His chair makes an audible groan as he leans back against it and lets out a lengthy sigh, running a hand through his hair and glancing down into his lap at the result of your seemingly endless torment.
Intolerable minx.
By the third time you make your way back up, only about half an hour has passed, and Silco’s all but given up on the prospects of getting any semblance of work done tonight. His thoughts being entirely permeated by you and the state you’d left him in.
The Last Drop is in full swing now, and the liveliness of everything going on downstairs comes through the open door as you re-enter his office. However this time, he makes no effort to acknowledge your arrival, his chair now facing away from his desk, turned instead towards the large stained glass window that bathes him in a sickly, pale green light. All the noise from the club gets muffled when the door shuts once again, followed by the sound of purposeful footsteps making their way over to him.
“Welcome back,” he states flatly, trying to sound as disinterested as he can manage in his current predicament while he looks over his clipboard in a vain attempt at trying to salvage what was supposed to be a productive evening.
“Hello there, almighty Eye of Zaun,” you chime back with a playful lilt in your voice. “Did you miss me?”
Silco’s eyes tick upwards and stare blankly at the window straight ahead, actively suppressing the urge to let out another heavy sigh. You were going to be the death of him at this rate, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind. How you managed to be both so insufferable and still so unbelievably charming he’ll never quite understand. Before he has the chance to turn his chair with an already fixed scowl, he hears a faint thud behind him, the distinct sound of glass meeting wood only slightly muted by a soft shuffling of papers.
A few seconds pass before Silco finally spins around to face you, seeing that a tumbler has been set down right on top of the paperwork he had been ruminating over all night. He’s also greeted by the sight of you already sitting in a chair directly in front of his desk, grinning from ear to ear. His heart swells at the sight and his scowl gradually melts away, only to be replaced by something more along the lines of skepticism when he takes in your expression fully.
Your smile is accompanied by what appears to be a look of pure satisfaction, though he has no clue as to why. His non-discolored eye narrows at you, like a parent trying to figure out what misdeed their child has committed behind their back.
Silco regards you warily for another moment, taking in every minute detail of your face in hopes of detecting something that might give you away while he reaches for the glass set in front of him. Ice clinks against the sides as he swirls it around before bringing it to his lips, taking a long sip followed by a hum of appreciation. His eyes shoot back up to meet yours, and finds you now biting your lip while trying, and failing, to suppress a huge grin.
You’re definitely up to something, that much he’s certain of now, and the fact that he still can’t figure out what it is causes his previously feigned discontent to turn into more of a bubbling frustration, having just about enough of whatever game you’re playing. A fleeting thought crosses his mind as he glances down at the drink now dangling from his fingertips, then back up to you.
Silco knows you’ve taken in the brief look of suspicion on his face when you let out a laugh that, despite the visible displeasure he's exuding towards you, is still one of the sweetest sounds he's ever heard.
“I didn’t poison you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you quip, clearly amused at the implication.
“At this point I would be grateful if you did.”
You laugh again, but it comes out more like a short exhale through your nose along with a relaxed grin, taking a sip of your own beverage, and Silco’s good eye narrows at you once again.
“Are you drunk?”
“What? No.”
Silence.
“Then what did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
He practically glares at you for what feels like a considerable amount of time before it finally dawns on him that you haven’t left yet.
“Did you need something darling? Or have you just come to find more ways to elicit whatever reaction you’ve been hoping for this evening?” Silco brings the tumbler to his mouth once more, letting it hover there momentarily in order to get the rest of his words out. “Because if the intended reaction was to see how far you can test my patience I can assure you-”
Words die on his lips immediately when you make a move to stand, mismatched eyes shooting down to your waist to see what appears to be quite possibly the shortest skirt he’s ever seen you in, leaving so very little to the imagination.
He’s still holding the glass right up to his face while he watches you make your way around the only obstacle that separates the two of you before hopping onto one of the corners, your butt and thighs jiggling faintly when they make contact with the solid piece of furniture. “I just figured you could use a drink after such a long night of hard work. Is that so wrong?”
Silco tracks your movements with an almost predatory fixation, watching you lean back slightly to rest against your arms, crossing one leg over the other and he has to actively resist the urge to scoff. This thing is hardly covering anything, you’re essentially sitting there with your bare ass on his desk. The realization of that along with the sight of everything you’re showing has his cock hardening at an alarming rate.
You don’t seem to notice, or if you do you don’t say anything, eyebrows knitting together in a poorly disguised attempt at looking genuinely worried. “What’s wrong? You don’t look very happy to see me.”
Silco sets the glass down onto his desk with a bit more force than intended, turning his chair to face all the way forward and bringing his mouth to rest against interlocked fingers. Any moment now he’s expecting you to hop right off that corner and make your way back downstairs, back to a place filled with depraved and perverted onlookers.
Realistically he knows no harm would ever befall you while you were down in the Last Drop. All of his subordinates had been given clear instruction to keep a watchful eye on you at all times, and after a while a lot of them had started to do it less out of obligation and more so out of genuine care, especially Jinx and Sevika.
Plus, he knows you can hold your own in a fight. Growing up in the undercity had hardened you just enough to make you a scrappy but formidable opponent. So logically speaking, Silco knows there's no safer place for you to be, but the thought of anyone other than himself seeing you in that, especially the less than respectable patrons that frequent his establishment nearly every night, makes his blood boil.
“Of course I'm happy to see you, my dear,” he retorts, turning his head to look over at you once more, eyes darting downwards to that indecent piece of fabric wrapped around your waist then back up to meet your gaze. “It's just that I'm seeing quite a lot of you at the moment, and if you go back downstairs, so will everyone else.” His last words come out strained as he shifts in his chair in a poor attempt to alleviate his growing erection.
“Oh, you mean my skirt? Is there…something wrong with it?” You lift your hips to take the tiniest of scoots towards him, and Silco’s eyes immediately hone in on the action.
“Don’t be cheeky.”
Another scoot. “I’m afraid that can’t be helped, especially in this.”
At this point he wouldn’t be surprised if you really are trying to kill him, taking controlled and steady breaths while he attempts to suppress his growing ire in response to such a ridiculous question. Of course there’s something wrong with it. Silco’s sure he’d nearly be able to see the soft outline of your mound if you were to spread your legs, even in the slightest.
He lets out another deep breath before picking up his pen and casually scribbling his signature on one of the invoices strewn about in front of him. “You will not be going back down there like that.”
He’s not looking at you, but Silco can see the movements of you moving closer out of the corner of his unmarred eye.
“Are you..asking me to stay?”
He doesn’t respond, instead electing to take another piece of paper to scrawl his name at the bottom offhandedly. He knows what you’re playing at, the fact that it took him so long to realize it irks him to no end. He wouldn’t mind answering honestly and just telling you that yes, he does want you to stay, but the thought of giving into your bratty little antics this evening doesn’t sit quite right with him.
Which is why he makes the conscious decision to ignore you as you move close enough to where your upper leg is now narrowly brushing his elbow, the shift causing him to mess up the tail end of another signature. Silco chances a glance towards the movement and regrets it almost immediately when he takes in the soft curve of your thigh, his cock twitching painfully at the sight.
He makes his second mistake when he follows the tantalizing trail of your body upwards and is met with the most unabashed, shit eating grin plastered across your face. He has to force himself to look away, the hand not holding his pen coming up to drag his long fingers back and forth across his mouth as he contemplates the idea of sending you away all together, leaving you pouty and disappointed. And for a moment he comes close to doing just that, until he makes the grave error of risking a glance up at your face again.
You’re not smiling anymore, expression replaced by something far more lustful and serious. Silco simply stares as your tongue slides out to pull your bottom lip in between your teeth before gently nudging his elbow with your knee. He doesn’t hesitate in dropping his arm to offer you the space in front of him, and you slide over gracefully. He stays perfectly still while you plant a foot atop each of the armrests of his ornate chair, knees pressed tightly together.
He finally responds to your earlier question with one of his own.
“What would possibly give you that idea?” His voice is light and teasing, all traces of anger gone. “You’ve been nothing short of a nightmare all evening, love. And now this?” Fingertips come up to stroke the side of your calf, humming appreciatively. “What am I going to do with you?”
This earns Silco a wide, toothy grin as you scoot forward. “Whatever do you mean? I’m just sitting here.”
“Don't be coy with me, sweetheart.” He leans forward, breath fanning over your knees as he speaks. “Be a good girl and tell me what you want.”
“I want you,” knees parting just barely, “to answer my question.”
Silco pushes his tongue against his cheek in minor annoyance before sliding both hands up your legs and over your knees, then back down until he reaches your hips. He grips firmly at the supple flesh and yanks you closer towards him, eliciting a sharp squeak followed by a string of giggles.
“I think you might be the most aggravating creature I’ve ever had the displeasure of courting.”
Your face adorns a look of mock appreciation. “Awe, thank you!”
Slender hands travel back up to your knees. “Truly just a tantalizing little menace.” He waits for you to part them further, granting him the access he’s so desperately craving. “One that I’m both drawn to and irritated by all at once.”
Your smile is nothing short of haughty, as if you’re truly taking everything he’s telling you as a compliment. “Well now you’ve really got me hot and bothered,” you shoot back, knees moving further away from each other until you’re spread all the way open for him.
Although spoken in a sarcastic tone, Silco sees that your words are in fact true, his eyes taking in the sight of your already dripping cunt.
“Indulge me, sweetheart,” he says, one hand coming up to trace the backs of your thighs with his knuckles, causing goosebumps to decorate your soft skin. “Why the need to be so difficult tonight?”
You shiver at the touch, bottom lip still tucked between your teeth as he brings a thumb up to stroke lazily over your pussy.
“J-just for fun,” you retort, but your voice doesn’t hold the same conviction. “Wanted to see..how long it would take.”
“How long what would take?”
The laugh you let out is shaky at best, but there’s still a bit of confidence left when you answer. “For you to ask me to stay.”
It only takes about half a second before Silco’s thumb pushes into your core and his tongue cards a long, hot stripe along your folds. The noise you make spurring him on further as his mouth envelopes your clit, giving it a harsh suck before pulling away with a satisfying wet plop sound.
“I don’t recall asking anything of the sort,” he chides, sliding his thumb back out. “If memory serves me correctly, you came into my office several times practically demanding my attention.”
Silco punctuates his last few words by pushing two fingers into you, pulling another sharp inhale from your lips as he turns his palm to face upward and curls them inside of you.
“Has it ever occurred to you,” he starts, bringing his thumb to circle against your now swollen clit, drawing a long whine out of you as you work your hips against him. “..that perhaps I attempt to send you away in order to finish with my tasks quickly, just so I can get back to doting on you with said attention? Selfish little creature.”
Your eyebrows pinch together, speaking between shallow breaths. “You.. could have just.. said that.. you know.”
Silco smirks, watching you look back at him with a pair of pleading eyes. “And deny myself the pleasure of seeing your lovely pouts and open displays of petulance?” He adds a third finger. “I think not.”
“Silco,” you whine, “please.”
His cock twitches in response, and he doesn’t waste any time bringing his mouth back down to your bud and swirling his tongue around it lavishly while his fingers twist and turn inside of you. He watches you throw your head back, one of your hands snaking upwards to grip the edge of the desk above your head, the other coming to latch onto the top of his head hard as you roll your hips against him.
“There, that’s it,” he coos, “show me how eager you are. Use me.”
This draws another string of small gasps and moans from you, coupled with lewd, wet, slurping sounds as Silco continues to lap and suck at your clit, bringing his free hand to grip your thigh and anchor you to him. The strain in his pants grows increasingly more painful when you sigh his name affectionately, followed by a noise of protest when he removes his fingers from you all together in an effort to tug at intricate buttons of his trousers, freeing his aching cock and palming himself to the sight of your ruined state.
Your arousal coating his fingers serves as a welcome lubricant for him to stroke himself languidly, relishing in the feeling of you bucking up into him, using him to chase your own end. His licks are hot and thorough, leaving no part of your heat untouched.
“Yes,” Silco groans into you, “just like that.”
Your other hand comes down to unbutton your top, cupping and squeezing at one of your breasts, and he knows you’re close by the way you’re begging and pleading above him. The sound of your voice feeds into his determination, letting go of his cock in order to wrap both arms around your thighs, securing you in place and devouring you like a starved man.
The way you cry out his name while your walls flutter around his tongue has him reeling, mismatched eyes boring into you, watching your orgasm in complete reverence as your fluids run down his chin.
“Good girl,” Silco sighs, his movements slowing down to let you ride out your climax. “You always make such sweet sounds for me.”
Your legs tremble and the vicelike grasp you have on his hair loosens before you slump back down onto his desk, words barely managing to come through your short and labored breaths.
“Could've been making them a lot earlier if you’d…stop trying to kick me out.”
A hint of a smile creeps up on his face as he presses small, feather light kisses up the backs of your thighs, leaving glistening spots of your slick behind in their wake. “You know, it is possible to keep your unsolicited remarks to yourself every once in a while.”
Yours breaks into a devious grin that tugs at his heart without mercy. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”
“Mmm, point taken.”
Silco stands to turn your body so that you’re taking up the full length of his desk before climbing up onto it and bracing himself with a hand on either side of your head. His length bobs thick and heavy with need, bringing it to rest against your slit.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
You roll your hips against him needily, coating his cock with your arousal. “Maybe.”
“You drive me absolutely mad,” he growls, voice dripping with carnal hunger as he pushes your legs up against your chest once again, lining himself up with your entrance. And it’s the way you're looking up at him with your lip tucked in between your teeth in anticipation, the slight inward curl of your eyebrows in an almost pleading expression that has him pushing into you in one, smooth buck forward, making you gasp as he bottoms out inside of you.
Silco sees your eyes roll back, and he has to physically stop himself from doing the same. He wants to see it all, wants to see your blissed out expression while he fucks you, wants to see all the different ways he can make you come undone beneath him.
You make a pitiful attempt at stifling a moan, one that ultimately fails when Silco starts to rock his hips against yours, pulling them back slowly and savoring the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls before driving them forward with a sharp, pointed thrust. But he’s right there with you, exhaling a throaty groan at the feeling of your walls engulfing him so deliciously, the sensation being nothing short of divine.
“Look at you, taking me so well,” he whispers, lowering his head and tilting it to place gentle kisses along your jawline before nipping at your earlobe. “Like we were made for each other.”
The breathy whine this elicits causes him to straighten himself upright again, picking up his pace steadily, and soon the room is filled with the obscene, wet smacking of skin against skin as Silco begins to pump into you with feral-like need. He readjusts your legs so that your calves are hooked over his shoulders, letting him fuck you so much deeper.
You’re a mess of broken pleas beneath him, and he clings to every single one, a symphony meant solely for him and him alone. Silco watches you with wholly, unabashed devotion as your face twists and contorts in pleasure, pleasure that only he can bring you. And though he wants to feel like he’s still in control, he knows deep down he’s equally ruined by what you do to him, maybe even more so. His seafoam eye glazes over, and strands of hair fall loosely around his face as he ruts into you.
You reach up and try to put your arms around his neck, but the position your legs are in only allow you to claw at his shoulders helplessly. “S-silco, please..”
“Oh? I see someone’s finally learned some manners,” he taunts.
The huff of annoyance you let out amuses him more than he’d care to admit, “For fuck’s sake, Sil. Let me hold you.”
“Demanding thing,” he scolds, but gives into your ‘request’ regardless, lowering your legs just enough so that your knees fall to the side and hook over his forearms, letting you wrap your arms around his neck with open urgency. And now you’re pulling him down and holding him there, like the waters he'd nearly drowned in.
Silco’s jaw goes slack as he turns his head and pants in your ear like some wild beast, whose sole purpose is to bring you to your end. Like it was all he was ever made for. Your head turns to meet his lips with your own, and he tries to keep some semblance of restraint while he kisses you, but he can’t, not with you. It’s hungry and sloppy, full of exceeding desperation.
He breaks the kiss reluctantly to make his way down to your neck, lips and tongue moving against the delicate flesh and littering your throat with marks of all kinds, leaving no room for anyone to question who you belong to. “Mine,” Silco snarls possessively in between sucks and bites.
He's about to pull away when one of your hands slides up to the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair and locking him in place, begging for more, more, more, and Silco’s more than happy to oblige. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger so tightly, and this realization both excites and ruins him as he begins to ram everything he has into you with new purpose.
“Oh fuck, Silco. Right there,” you cry out, voice becoming raspy and hoarse from your continuous gasps in between moans.
"Yes, that's it. Show me how much you want this, how much you need this," he huffs out through gritted teeth, trying to establish some form of dominance once again, but it's no use when he realizes his words are just as applicable to him as they are to you.
He forgoes his hold on your legs, letting them fall to your sides briefly before wrapping them around his waist. Your eyes flutter shut and your head starts to loll to the side, but Silco grabs your jaw quickly and forces you to look directly at him.
“None of that, darling. I want you to look at me when you come undone,” His breath comes out ragged and primal. “You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?”
You nod frantically in response, eyes drifting downward to stare at his mouth, like a silent plea. He takes the hint without delay, squishing your cheeks together until your lips form a small pout before leaning down to kiss you fervently. His tongue swirls around yours, hot and wanting, before he pulls away just enough for him to pant into your open mouth, his connecting to yours by the thinnest string of saliva.
Silco can sense your second orgasm approaching rapidly, and he brings his fingers towards your lips. You take the hint right away, wrapping them around his digits and sucking on them lavishly. Once he’s satisfied enough, he removes them and snakes his hand down through your intertwined bodies, settling for the bundle of nerves located between your legs.
Your moans increase in pitch, arms and legs squeezing even tighter around him as he works you with skilled flicks of his wrist.
“You’ve endured this so well, my love,” he whispers against your ear, voice laced with unrestrained hedonism and resolve. “Let’s reward all that effort of yours tonight, shall we?”
His question is rhetorical, but you nod so eagerly for him nonetheless as your walls begin to pulsate, clenching so unbelievably tight around him you’re practically pushing his cock out, nearly sending him over the edge himself.
“That’s my girl,” he sighs with heavy grit and worship. “You feel incredible.”
Silco’s face comes back up to hover over yours, looking directly into your eyes while he fucks you through your climax, his own looming closer and closer. He leans down to kiss you, swallowing your labored breaths greedily as his thrusts begin to stagger before coming to a complete halt, his pelvis flush against yours as his cock twitches obscenely within your heat. He lets out a harsh, guttural moan right into your mouth as he spills into you, your walls continuing to milk him with stuttered squeezes, and he has to pull away sharply to exhale a series of delirious gasps.
Your chests heave against one another, waves of pleasure slowly dissipating as your sweat soaked bodies stay interlocked. Silco shifts slightly, bringing his hands to stroke the top of your head lazily with his fingertips. His forehead comes to rest against yours as he places soft, tender kisses along your cheeks, your eyes, your lips, anything within reach.
He’s rewarded with a giggle, followed by a dopey little grin.
“You know,” you say as your breaths finally return to normal. “I just remembered the other reason you try to send me away while you work.”
Silco already knows the answer, but you punctuate your words anyway by wiggling your ass, causing the sound of his paperwork shuffling beneath you, followed by a light yelp as he smacks your bottom lightly.
“Impossible little wench,” he chastises, lifting himself off of you and being greeted once again by the sight of the thing you keep referring to as a ‘skirt’. He grabs the edge of it with his fingertips, holding it up like it was a cursed object. “Where in Janna’s name did you even get this from?”
You bark out a laugh before propping yourself up hastily to look down at it with pride. “Ran let me borrow it.”
“Excuse me?”
“What?”
“Borrow it,” he repeats, “as in you have every intention of giving it back to them?”
You stare at him for a moment, no doubt mulling over your answer.
“...No?”
Silco smirks at your response before leaning in. “Good girl. Besides, I think we may find many more uses for it still.”
Your eyes widen with child-like wonder, but for the entirely wrong reason. “Oh, so you’ll wear it for me, too?”
He stares back at you blankly, blinking several times before rolling his eyes almost theatrically, earning him another small fit of laughter as he finally graces you with a response.
“Whatever pleases you, I suppose.”
#silco#silco arcane#arcane silco#arcane#silco x reader#silco x you#silco fanfic#silco fanfiction#bratty reader#simp silco#mdni
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𝖰𝗎𝖾 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝖺, 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝖺
───※ ·❆· ※───
───※ ·❆· ※───
(An OC/Named Reader x Larissa Weems one-shot) (Bittersweet/angsty. Possible part 2 depending on feedback.)
Summary: Odette sends a letter and it ends up in the wrong hands.
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‘January 11th, 2023
Odette,
I am terribly sorry to inform you that the letter you sent to a woman named Mirabelle did not end up in her hands. I believe the mail carriers fell short along the way and got it mixed up within my pile of documents; thus my wayward response to you. Considering the nature of your words (I must admit I read them - my actions were caused by split curiosity and confusion), I suggest you re-envelope and reseal your letter before sending it again. I have slipped it in with this one. And if you choose to listen to me, then we shall both hope your sentiments arrive to Mirabelle in a timely fashion with no surprise stops along the way. Until then, someone must tell her that she is a very lucky woman.
And that I am very sorry she broke your heart.
Happy New Year Odette. Be well,
Larissa W.’
‘January 18th, 2023
Larissa,
Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness. I am far sorrier than you are. Obviously if I knew that was going to happen, I would not have let it. Okay that doesn’t make much sense, but I’m sure you know what I mean. I think. Hopefully? Anyway, thank you very much for sending the letter back. I gave myself some time to think it over and did as you suggested. New envelope, new seal, new everything. Except the perfume on the letter was different. Are you wearing Jean Paul Gaultier? It’s very nice. Mirabelle may appreciate the mix of scents (I’m wearing Marc Jacobs - Daisy), so at least she’ll get something out of it. The words, on the other hand, I’m not so sure. That ship sailed a long time ago - I’m just not the type to give up easily. That’s a big flaw, I think. Oh well. I guess rambling’s a flaw too. And here I am. Forgive me?
Thank you again. Happy New Year.
Odette’
‘January 23rd, 2023
Dear Odette,
Please don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault, as you know. And if I knew the letter did not concern me at all, I would not have read it. But, I’m sort of glad that I did. It was perhaps one of the best letters I’ve ever read in my entire life. Are you a writer, by any chance? If not, you should consider becoming one. The rambling could add a nice personal touch - it’s not as big a flaw as you think it is. It certainly introduced me to your keen sense of smell. Speaking of which, Daisy is wonderful. I may have a roll-on tube of that somewhere. Otherwise, you’re correct. La Belle was released in 2019, it has become my new personal favorite. Are you a perfume collector? Or perhaps a bloodhound? I jest, I jest. Though I do appreciate the follow-up.
If Mirabelle doesn’t appreciate your love, I may have to send her a letter myself. That being said, please let me know what she says? If it isn’t too much of an inconvenience.
Be well,
Larissa W.’
‘January 29th, 2023
To Larissa,
You are far too kind. I write in my free time, yes, but I’m not sure I’m good enough to become a writer. However, your support still means a lot - even from all the way in California. Quite a long way, right? Crazy how paths cross. Anyway, I’m not a perfume collector, no. But my friend, Cassie, wears the same kind. I know for certain that she’d say you have good taste. And I’d agree. That bloodhound comment was funny. I know you can’t hear my giggling, but trust me when I say I am. I wish I could be as witty, but I don’t know what to say. My humor is typically made up of making fun of people. Do you have a guilty pleasure I can harp on? An embarrassing secret? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.
And as soon as I get something back, I’ll let you know. Don’t start writing just yet.
Best,
Odette’
‘February 5th, 2023,
Odette,
Telling you my secrets already? My, I believe we’ve skipped a few steps. What happened to a favorite color? A favorite memory? An age or profession, perhaps? If you couldn’t tell by now, I am still jesting. One of my guiltiest pleasures, though you may find it juvenile and silly, is the fact that I am a huge chocolate fiend. Many of my coworkers are aware that the best drink to buy me is a hot chocolate - hold the whipped cream. I am watching my figure after all. And because I pity your lack of matched wit, I’ll tell you that my biggest secret is the fact that I quite enjoy Taylor Swift’s music. Don’t ask me about my favorite song, I don’t think I could choose just one. Oh is that- is that the sound of your giggling? Maybe I can hear it from here, Ms. California. Now it’s your turn to hear mine. In the meantime, enlighten me on what you write about. I’m thinking poetry and free-form, with a focus on romance. I do a bit of writing myself from time to time, but it’s always in a diary. Never further. Perhaps you can do both of us justice and contemplate publishing? I’ll be the first to run to the shelves.
I hope you are well,
Larissa W.’
‘February 13th, 2023
Dear chocolate fiend,
White. My first trip to New York City after Mirabelle. I arrived in the afternoon, went to see a movie, grabbed dinner and headache pills on the way back to my hotel room, and couldn’t sleep for the entire night. So I went out at 3 AM to see Times Square. It was only a block away and let me tell you, Larissa, it was beautiful. It was unlike anything. I felt safe for the first time in a while - beneath all of those lights. I was invincible. Not even loneliness could touch me. 27 and counting. Secretary. And potential writer. Someone I met recently has been trying to push me further into my hobby- to really adopt the lifestyle. You wouldn’t know them, though. Them? They/them? Please correct me if I’m wrong, Larissa. These letters wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable if I was calling you something you weren’t. As for me, I go by she/her. Mirabelle did as well. Does? Did? I’m not sure - I haven’t heard anything back yet. But that may be for the best.
Horrid segue here (shame on little writer Odette), but Taylor Swift? Wow, I must be giggling quite loudly. HA HA HA HA HA!! HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!! I swear that one day I’ll get a laugh out of you as well. In the meantime, as you say, I’ll happily inform you that you’re a psychic of some sort. Yes, I write poetry and free-form romance. Novels have never been my thing though. But if I did write any, I’d have to say psychological horror is a favorite. I may give it a crack if you’d edit for me? Unless you’re terribly busy, Ms. Vermont. Then please don’t worry your pretty little head.
I hope you’re ‘weller’ than I am,
Odette
(P.S. Happy Valentines Day)’
‘February 19th, 2023
Dear sweet poet,
Do forgive the late response. Work has been keeping me busy; but if you’re serious about editing, I’m sure I can set some time apart for you. That memory of yours does sound quite glorious - nearly heavenly. Such freedom is a dream for many people, myself somewhat included, so I admit I’m the tiniest bit jealous. However, I could always visit the city in the summer. Times Square is already calling my name… maybe I’ll even see a certain 27 year old stranger there. Maybe we could even grab hot chocolate. But I suppose you’d rather enjoy your independence.
That being said, you are quite correct - they/them is one of my preferred pronouns. Much like yourself and the mysterious Mirabelle, she/her is another. And I’m glad we both agree that these letters are quite a treat. I have not had a pen-pal in quite a long time. My old roommate and I used to talk after we graduated, but times change. Much like they did for you and Mirabelle. I believe I may have loved my roommate in that way, too… but it’s as I said.
Then again, she was always more of a psychic than me. I just got lucky. As for the answers to my questions, I’m quite sure none of those were secrets. Unless, of course, your favorite color is known only by myself. In which case, I’d consider myself lucky again. But either way, come to the table please Odette. Tell me yours - but only if you wish to.
Weller is not a word,
Best,
Larissa W.’
‘February 23rd, 2023
Dear Larissa,
Weller is a word if I want it to be. That is my secret. No, but in all seriousness, you’re correct. Fair is fair. So I’ll grant you this: I’m a redhead. Ugh I know! I know! It’s terrible. Horrible. I’m sorry. If you find that you can’t stand me anymore, I understand. A writer, secretary, AND a redhead? What’s next? An FBI agent? I can’t disclose that information.
Speaking of which, you have yet to answer your own questions. All is fair in love and pen-paling, am I right or am I right Larissa? It’s okay. You can admit it. I’m right.
Just like I’m right in saying that your roommate made a big mistake if she’s not with you now. Speaking from experience, love like that is not something one finds often. I’d say I’m glad you experienced it, for it has its good moments, but I know that the ache can be bad. Quite bad. Not to worry, though! If you figure you want to send her a letter, you may get a pen-pal out of it. Kind of neat, huh?
I’m sorry she broke your heart, too. What a foolish woman. Tsk tsk.
Best,
Odette’
‘February 28th, 2023
To the resident redhead,
How could you betray me like this? A redhead? On the other side of these pages? I feel scorned. Scorned and touched. Very much like a writer to offer comfort for an offhand comment. I appreciate the sentiment more than you know. And just for your information, Ms. I’m-Always-Right:
Silver. Getting my teachers certification and celebrating with a few friends before life pulled us in different directions. It was a wonderful night. I haven’t laughed so much since - and that was quite a while ago. 32 next year. Principal. I do hope that was enough to sate your burning curiosity; I’m sure you can be at ease now. And since I do so enjoy meeting you halfway, I’ll tell you that I’m very fair-haired. Very. Perhaps one day you’ll see. Until then, don’t let the curiosity kill you little cat.
Best,
Larissa W.’
‘March 5th, 2023’
‘March 12th, 2023’
‘March 16th, 2023’
‘April 14th, 2023’
‘May 21st, 2023’
‘June 9th, 2023’
...
And the months went on.
And on.
And on.
And every few days, another letter came. Another letter went. Another letter was written. Another letter was sealed. Another letter was received. Another letter was cherished. Kept. Forever a lovely memory. Larissa and Odette went and went and went- on and on and on- exchanging and smiling as each paragraph grew in length. From this to that and whatever else they could find to think about; they formed a banter and connection like no other. Poking fun, making jokes, referencing previous letters, gossiping until their hearts were content. Purring within their chests, eagerly awaiting another letter. It kept their days moving. It kept their souls dancing. From miles away, they cheered each time they saw the thin familiar scrawl of Larissa’s writing and the loopy tilted words of Odette’s penmanship. At one point, they even tried copying each other’s style. It was hilarious. It had both of them laughing at the same time - and later doing it purely to mock. Such things, little but large, were frequent and lovely. One time, Odette mailed a perfume scent strip of her new favorite; and Larissa, never one to be outdone, sent a roll-on tube of La Belle. Odette got so ticked off she made her promise that they stick to letters and paper only. Larissa, usually a stubborn soul, agreed. That was their dynamic. Their push and pull. Their agree to disagree. Never did they fight; rarely did they not see eye to eye; and constantly did they playfully argue. It was small things- small insignificant little things- but they moved the conversation along. And it made them smile. It made them laugh. And during the hardest parts, the parts in which life pinched at their skin and dragged at their souls, it made them cry. It made them weep. It made them open up. It led to Odette confessing that Mirabelle had left her and it led to Larissa confessing that Morticia had left her as well. Two women, two ships in the night, both of which got away. And not gently, not two slow drifts into the night, but a harsh yank. Morticia left school with a man on her arm and Mirabelle returned to California one day from a business trip in France with a ring on her finger. The two of them agreed that it was funny how life likes to slap lovers in the face. That it was funny how life likes to get in the way. And enjoys ending good things and ruining them. Taking them away too quickly. With no warning at all. Without a single goodbye.
The last letter Odette sent was on October 28th, 2024.
Larissa hadn’t responded to her previous one. Or the one before that. And eventually, after much contemplation, she gave up. It wasn’t healthy- worrying so much. Odette figured that perhaps, finally, her worst fear came true and that Larissa realized their little arrangement was more odd than she thought. That she knew virtually nothing about Odette, not even her last name. And that she didn’t find her amusing anymore and didn’t want to associate with her anymore and didn’t want to even say hello. Or goodbye. Or anything in between.
It broke her heart a little bit.
Okay it broke her heart a lot a bit.
The radio silence left Odette living on autopilot for weeks. Months. Nearly half a year. She’d get up, check her mailbox, and go to work - only to come home, check her mailbox, and go to bed - just to do the same thing over and over and over again. Day and night. Night and day. It was worse than Mirabelle. It was worse than anything. No amount of teenage angst or familial grief could get over the deep void left within her soul once those letters stopped coming. Once the friend she found by accident, the kindred spirit she stumbled upon, the woman she lov-…. well. Once that one person decided never to write again.
Though like most difficult things that left her raw, Odette’s heart began scabbing over. She cleared her desk, packed away the special pens she used, put the paper neatly into a box, and tucked the leftover Larissa letters away right along with those sweet memories. Then she put them into the back of a closet she rarely rifled through… and tried to forget it was all there. The La Belle, which she rarely touched, was hidden in her pajama drawer at the very back- wrapped up in old T-shirts she no longer wore. And every other thing that existed around her, that reminded her of Larissa, was pushed out of sight. Out of sight and out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight… out of mind.
The company was celebrating her 5 year anniversary. They wanted to fly her out to Vermont. Jericho, Vermont. To have a little vacation there. To enjoy life. To fucking torture her.
She almost didn’t go. She almost canceled entirely. She almost quit her goddamn job because that was the same job she had when she first met Lar-…..
But she went anyway. Vermont was large enough. She’d be fine.
And she was, much to her surprise. She was entirely fine. It was a beautiful change of season; the air was crisp, the trees were changing color- morphing back into sunny greens. The world enjoyed its rain as April introduced May to Jericho and as the year of 2025 blossomed into being. Odette spent her days reading, taking walks, basking in the beauty of the log cabin the company rented for her. It was truly lovely. Truly a dream come true. And she didn’t even think- didn’t even wonder- about the other ship that got away from her. That barely even brushed past her, or lingered, before parting the water and skating away into the night all those months ago.
It was blissful. It reminded her of New York. Of that freedom- that independence- that song within her soul, dredged up from the depths.
But there was one thing.
One tiny little thing.
One little reminder that never left her. That she didn’t let go of.
“Hot chocolate, no whip, for Odette?”
A small smile grew on her lips as she slid out of the booth and made her way up to the counter. The young man met her eyes, returned the smile, and gestured to the warm cup on the counter with a nod of his head.
“Thank you lots.” And with that, she retreated to her booth.
Hot chocolate.
She wasn’t going to give up hot chocolate, let alone any chocolate at all, just because a distant soul enjoyed it. The whipped cream was something she wanted, but… old habits did always die hard, didn’t they? Oh most definitely. And as Odette reclined against the comfortable seat, eyes tracking the screen of her work laptop, hot chocolate firmly placed on the coaster to her right, she lived up to that sentiment with no room to spare. Leaving work at home was hard. She dove into it some time ago; dedicating more time, thinking, and hours into the well-oiled machine of her job just to distract her from everything outside of it. When she was there, responding, taking calls, managing dates and meetings and this, that, and the other, the world fell silent. Into a distant buzzy din. Into a land of muffled sounds and unimportant chatter - like her head was dunked under water as soon as she opened her emails. To a certain extent, it was calming. Repetitive and not at all that difficult after she figured out a proper routine; the worst part was dealing with those who couldn’t write properly. And in the professional world, that was rare. Well- if a person wanted to keep their job of course. And she definitely wanted to keep hers. It was fulfilling. Enriching. She made some friends, she shook some hands, she reassured her bosses. They knew she was reliable. Friendly. Odette never faltered. And they counted on that. Counted on her. Gave her the time of day. Responded when they could. Cherished her like a human. Like a friend. Unlike-
“Larissa? Hot chocolate, no whip?”
Odette blinked.
The muffled bubble popped. The world flooded back. She looked up from her screen.
Was she going mad? Crazy? Bonkers, finally? After all that time? Had she misheard? Maybe the young man said Patricia. Or Melissa. Or-
“Larissa! Hey, long time no see!”
Larissa.
Odette turned around in her seat so fast, she nearly broke her neck. She shuffled to the end of the booth, peered around the side, eyes wide and hands gripping the edge of the table… only to feel her excitement die as soon as it existed.
Of course. Foolish her. She didn’t know what Larissa looked like. She never got a proper description. Never got a photograph. Or a phone number. Or anything at all. Just a P.O. Box and a state. Just… nothing.
“Hello Jerry, it has been a while, hasn’t it? How are you?”
No, she- well she did get something. She got little things. Details. Odette’s brow furrowed as her eyes, hazel and starry and glazed over with apprehension and fear and admiration and horror, ran up and down the woman’s body. She was tall. Larissa never mentioned tall. She was curvy. Larissa never mentioned curvy.
‘I am watching my figure after all.’
…She was stylish. Larissa never mentioned style and fashion.
“Oh I’m good, I’m good. What about you? How’s the semester going?”
“I’m well, thank you. It’s… well it’s definitely going, Jerry.” They shared a laugh.
She was English. Larissa never mentioned being English. She wore gloves. Larissa never mentioned gloves. She-
Wait. Semester?
‘Getting my teachers certification…’ ‘Principal.’
Odette felt her heart drop.
But-
“I’m sure it is! I- oh shoot. More customers. Sorry, Larissa. Can we catch up later?”
“Of course Jerry. You know where to find me. Until next time.”
Hazel eyes watched the stranger wave. Then turn around.
Oh.
Dear lord…
She didn’t recognize her- not really- but the fair hair, which only registered then… and the silver jewelry. And the… the…
Odette watched as the woman walked past. She watched and she felt her heart in her ears- pounding, clawing, dancing- as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. So deeply. So deeply it made her lungs ache. So deeply it made her soul tear in two.
La Belle.
Odette had never packed up her things so quickly. She never slammed her laptop closed so fast, never slid it into her bag so messily, never threw the bag over her shoulder or shoved her wallet into her pocket or grabbed the hot chocolate with such vigor ever before. Not once in her life. And rarely did she act so impulsively- not after Larissa. But seeing her then, somehow knowing deep within her soul that it was her… it broke- snapped- the thin resolve of Odette’s sanity and sent her flying out of the Weathervane like a bat out of Hell. She was burning up inside. Electric. Her eyes held fire and ice and so much warmth, so much desperation, that she nearly toppled over herself in her hurry.
The woman- Larissa- was a fast walker. Her long legs took her far as she distractedly typed on her phone with one hand and held the cup of hot chocolate in the other. Odette, being short and clumsy, was red and out of breath by the time she got close enough to call out her name. And call, she did. Call, cry, silently plead, she did.
“LARISSA!”
It was loud. Like a roar. Like a harrowing yell. Like something that held months and months and months of pain and sorrow and grief behind it. It instantly made her throat hurt, running it raw in only a second, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care at all. Not when her voice got Larissa to stop in her tracks and turn around, eyes searching and confused.
Of course, as to be expected, she had no clue who she was. Not even an inkling. Larissa got no description either - not even a photo. All she knew was that Odette had red hair. And that a woman with red hair was storming toward her, all fucks thrown to the wind, sneakers smacking the pavement hard as she stomped down the sidewalk. Larissa looked utterly puzzled, slightly mortified, entirely put off by the sight of such a determined stranger. Like she wasn’t sure if she had done something wrong and if she had, she wasn’t sure how to fix it. But Odette would tell her. Odette would make it known.
“What the fuck?” was the first thing out of her mouth.
A rather harsh introduction, but necessary nonetheless. She didn’t even really mean to say it, but the surprised widening of Larissa’s eyes had a twisted spark of satisfaction spiraling up within her soul.
And her outburst, naturally, meant many things. Not just ‘What the fuck?’ but ‘What the fuck? Why did you disappear? What did I do? Did I hurt you? Did I say something? Did something happen to you? Do you feel sorry? Do you miss me? Do you wish you responded? Do you hope to never hear from me again? Did you always know this would happen? Did you ever even bother to think that you should tell me you’re that beautiful? What the fuck, why are your eyes so blue? And why are they piercing? Staring at me? Heavenly and deep and never-ending? Like.. oceans… and why are your lips so soft looking and plump and red? Where did that scar come from? Do you hate it? Do you know that I like it even though I’m only seeing it now for the first time ever? Did you always wear your hair like that? How long does it take you to get it like that? How does it feel to take it out after a long day? Did you know your makeup is flawless? And that your jawline is magnificent? And that you’re so tall… and you look so strong… inside and out… and why the fuck did you not mention you were British? English? What does it matter? Just what the fuck? Why the fuck? How the fuck? What the fuckity fuck?!’
But overall, it only meant ‘What the fuck? Why didn’t you say goodbye?’
“I beg your pardon?”
Unfortunately, Larissa could never read minds. Or hearts. So the vague pangs of longing, like old rusted blood, only ached harder as the taller woman blinked and frowned.
A blush painted Odette’s cheeks. Right. Somehow, along the way of admiring, she’d forgotten. Larissa had no idea who she was.
“Um.” Clearing her throat, she adjusted the bag on her shoulder. Suddenly, things were very awkward. Terribly awkward. So horribly bloody awkward. It was a wonder if Larissa could feel the odd lull in conversation, the sudden dousing of Odette’s flames, but it didn’t really matter. If she wanted to, Odette was sure that if she chose to walk away, if she chose to take one last look before turning around and never coming back, then Larissa would never know. Then she’d just be another story. Another odd memory to tell her children one day, if she ever wished to have them. In her letters, the taller woman admitted that she didn’t think she ever would. But Odette always had a feeling that she’d be an amazing mother. Looking at her then, taking in the perfect posture and the crisp seams of her clothing, the feeling became fact. Larissa would be the best mom.
Funny that… there was a time, long ago, where Odette fantasized about making sandwiches for picnics and uprooting her entire life. Just to see the proud smile on her pen-pal’s face as her child grew and grew and grew and flourished. And maybe even ended up calling her ‘mom’ one day too.
But as Larissa wrote once upon a time, things changed. Time went on. And that was how it was.
So she could turn around. She could very well wrench herself from her spot and drag herself back the way she came. She could apologize, tell her she was mistaken, and that she was sorry - and then she could walk off into the sunset and pretend nothing ever happened. She could burn the letters. She could burn the very memory of her. She could forget the name ‘Larissa’ entirely and all would be left to rest. And that would be that. Que sera, sera.
But Odette was never the type to give up easily. Mirabelle, wherever she was, could attest.
So instead of abandoning ship, she powered through.
“It’s Odette,” came her firm tone. She straightened her back and tilted her head to look up properly, trying to stand tall in the face of heartache.
But heartache didn’t recognize her.
“Have we… met before?” Larissa blinked, turning to present her full attention.
Odette flushed red. Angry. Sad. Liberated.
“Have- have we met before?” She repeated, scoffed, outraged by her old friend’s obliviousness. “Just how many Odettes do you know?!” Her hands ran to her hips, firmly rooting themselves there as she began tapping her foot and glowering.
Such a display had Larissa scanning her from head to toe, desperately scrambling for understanding and recognition. The loose T-shirt, the black leggings, the sneakers, the hazel eyes, the pretty features, the freckles, the plump cheeks and curved body, the bag on her shoulder, the hair on her head. Red. Fiery. Standing out against the blue of the sky like a stain on white fabric. Messy curls and natural red red red.
Red… red…
Odette watched as Larissa froze. Her lips fell open, her eyes widened, she could practically see the way her heart stopped in her chest.
She remembered.
She remembered.
“…Odette?”
The shorter woman nodded, slowly feeling the anger and excitement drain from her body. It was fun being anonymous for just a moment. It was fun being the only one that remembered - having the chance to feel properly scorned and betrayed. But that didn’t last very long. The come down was harsh. Quick. A fall from immense grace. Especially when she saw the tears. They welled up in Larissa’s eyes, glossy and wet, making those sapphires shine. So swift they were. So rapid. As if sparked by Odette’s very existence.
Though maybe Larissa wasn’t the one that was tearing up. Maybe it was just her. Maybe the haze of the world, growing slightly blurry, was caused by the water that threatened to fall over her own lashes.
“Yeah.” It was all she could think to say.
For even with all of her passion, even with her love of words and her many discarded story drafts (all coincidentally started in the year 2023), even with whatever eloquence she was naturally born with, Odette couldn’t come up with a single meaningful thing to say. There was much, of course. But none of it fit. None of it made sense. Everything that lingered on her tongue, finally unlodging itself from the stickiness of her throat, was too heavy. Too heavy for the moment. Too heavy for the sidewalk. Too heavy for the side of the street. Too heavy for Jericho. Out in the open. Vermont. Miles away from home. Too close too close too close. Too much all at once. Maybe running after her was a bad idea. Maybe taking the vacation was even worse. Maybe sending that letter to Mirabelle in the first place was the poignant moment in which she should have changed her mind and threw it away when she considered it.
But she hadn’t.
And so there she was, staring up at Larissa, suddenly helpless. That ship that passed her in the night all those months ago had come back around; except that time she had stumbled upon it herself. And she wasn’t entirely sure if she was grateful- or terrified. Maybe the ship hated her. Maybe the ship would crash into her and ruin her and maybe the ship would begin shooting cannons. Maybe the ship would continue right past her. Maybe the ship would-
-hug her?
Odette blinked, very much unsure of what was happening as soon as she felt the comforting weight of long arms pushing themselves under her biceps and interlocking behind her back. La Belle and the soft clean smell of faded shampoo filled her senses. Her nose. Her lungs. Her eyes. Her heart. And soul. Part of her was so confused it wanted to grasp Larissa’s shoulders and shove her off. And the other part of her, the part of her that had dreams about receiving another letter from the one that broke her heart, wanted to give in.
‘That ship sailed a long time ago - I’m just not the type to give up easily.’
Odette’s arms pressed against Larissa’s waist. Their holds were odd, skewed by the cups of hot chocolate they held and the other items in their grasps. But nonetheless, it was… it was unlike anything. Each breath died on Odette’s tongue. She felt the atoms in her brain disappear. Like they never existed at all.
“I’m sorry.” It was said so softly, she was near certain it wasn’t uttered at all. But then Larissa was pulling back, hands shaking as she brought them to her lips. “I’m sorry.”
There was grief in her eyes. A sadness that not even the most haunted of poets could explore, nor understand, nor emulate. It gleamed. It cut Odette in half. It had her taking steps back, suddenly unsure. Suddenly disoriented.
“What-… what happened?” She was breathless, bewildered at the sight of regret swimming in Larissa’s eyes.
The taller woman opened her mouth… then hesitated. Her gaze burned through her old friend- then twitched away and ran over the world around them. The sidewalk, the street, the shops, the Weathervane, the town itself. They were out in the open. And their… reunion… was too good for that. Too painful for that. Odette watched as Larissa’s lower lip quivered; as the thoughts ran through her mind at the speed of light. And before she even spoke, she knew what she was going to say.
“Please, come with me,” her voice was soft. Silken. Heavy with guilt. Pouring with unspoken words.
It was Odette’s turn to hesitate. Years… nearly. However much time. She didn’t really know. She stopped keeping track once she realized she was losing sleep over it. Hours upon hours of sleep. It affected her work - it affected her body. It slit the throat of her life and dragged it through dirt. ‘It’ being the silence. ‘It’ being the goodbye that never came. ‘It’ being Larissa, Larissa, Larissa.
The same Larissa who held an apology wound up in her lungs. The same Larissa who looked down at her as if she couldn’t quite believe she was real, standing before her, breathing and living. The same Larissa whose shaking hands held a cellphone and a cup of hot chocolate that was swiftly running cold. The same Larissa with the same shining eyes that glistened with tears and crackling memories and affection, warmth, that seemed so out of place. Years without the comfort of that dove-like soul… years without the… the love? Love? Is that what they had? Perhaps it was too little too late to wonder. Perhaps Odette was just dipping into wishful thinking. Giving into the dreams she repeated over the years. With every word, every breath, every letter - she found herself begging. Pleading. ‘Please. Please please please invite me to Vermont. See me. Know me. These pages are killing me.’ All of it secretly scrawled between her slanting lines. Running in circles behind her hazel eyes. Displayed for Larissa, even though Larissa did not exist before her at the time.
Not like she did in that moment. In Jericho. In tears.
“Let me explain, Odette. I meant- I… just- give me a chance.” Larissa blinked her tears away and straightened her shoulders, tone growing desperate, body growing tense.
Never before did she sound like that in their letters. But never before did she leave Odette for so long. Interesting circumstances… Funny how life ended things so quickly. Funny how life brought out the truth in a person when they felt themselves tugged at a loss. Pushed to their knees. Though she said she had an explanation… and her old friend had never been a liar.
“Okay,” Odette breathed, clearing her throat. “Okay.”
“Really?”
‘Yes of course, really,’ Odette thought, looking at her with a mix of surprise and anger and devotion. ‘What are you, mad? I’d never just walk away. I’d never just give up. I can’t help myself. I never could. You know this. You know me.’
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I quite enjoyed writing this. Might take a break from writing 'Heat' and 'To People Watch One Person' for a bit- same with requests. For the foreseeable future, whatever comes to mind will be written. I've started watching GOT again... and a certain Ser of Tarth has strummed the strings of my heart {as always} so maybe expect something with her? Dunno. Either way, thank you for staying with me. You mean the moon and stars, believe me. - Ripley x
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#fanfiction#larissa weems#wlw fanfic#larissa weems x y/n#larissa weems x reader#larissa weems x you#fanfictionwriter#fanfic#rippersz#gwendoline christie#angsty fic#bittersweet fic
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Ask Me Again
Summary: Jake loses a bet to Phoenix and has to finally man up.
Words: 1112
Warnings: Fluff, crack, drinking, alcohol consumption
Credits: This idea was born from the beautiful @princessmisery666.
A/N: This was absolutely adorable. I love the friendship these guys have.
The first night they were back on shore after the uranium plant mission, Hangman, Payback, Coyote, Fanboy, and Phoenix ended up at The Hard Deck, taking shots and sipping hard liquor. They were subdued after the almost tragic mission ending.
“Hangman, when are you going to ask that girl out?” Phoenix questioned as she lined up a shot with her pool cue.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, moving around the table to find his next move.
He missed the look the other four shared, one that spoke volumes about their thoughts on their teammate’s love life.
“Does that mean I can call her and ask her out?” Fanboy asked with a knowing smile.
Hangman sunk his shot in silence, turning to face the WSO after. “Not that you stand a chance anyway, but no, you leave her alone.”
“What are you afraid of?” Payback teased, “that she’ll say yes and you’ll actually have to spend the evening talking with words? I’m pretty sure you can fake intelligence enough to get through one night.”
“Come on, guys,” Coyote drawled, “leave him alone.”
“Thank you,” Jake groaned.
“Seresin obviously knows his game is too weak to get a woman that good to agree to a date,” Coyote finished, settling on a stool with a smug expression.
“Come on, Yote, I thought you were on my side,” Jake grumbled as he picked up his drink.
“I’m on no one’s side here,” Coyote shouted, “just stating the obvious.”
“Tell you what, Hangman,” Phoenix said, “one on one, you and me. If I win, you call her and ask her out. You win, we drop it.”
“But, you each do a shot first,” Payback added.
“Alright, fine,” Hangman agreed. “What are we shooting?”
“Vodka,” smirked Payback. “You both equally hate it.”
Fanboy handed over the shots and the competitors downed them, Jake shaking his head and coughing at the burn.
“You break,” Phoenix smiled.
You hadn’t heard from your aviator friends since they left for their mission. You had heard through the grapevine (your cousin, Penny) that everyone made it back safe but that it was a rough mission. So when your phone lit up with a video chat from Jake, you leapt to answer it.
“Oh my god, Jake, you’re back!” you exclaimed.
“Hey, we’re here, too!” you heard from the background. Jake turned so that you could see everyone that was with him, greeting each of the aviators before turning your attention back to the owner of the call.
“Wait, are you calling me because you’re drunk, Jake?” You noticed the flush on his cheeks, the slight sway.
“Not drunk,” he denied. “Well, maybe a little buzzed. But I didn’t call because I’ve been drinking.”
“Is that right?” you giggled.
“Yep. They actually made me call,” he shrugged, pointing over his shoulder at Reuben and Natasha.
“Made you call? Did they need something? Doesn’t Nat have my number, too?” you pressed, confusion evident in your furrowed brow.
“I do,” Nat responded, “but it’s Hang - Jake that needs to ask you something.”
“Trace,” Jake hissed as his neck turned a deeper shade of crimson.
“You need to ask me something?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck. “So, Phoenix made this bet with me and if I lost - which I did. But I still maintain she cheated. So I shouldn’t have to be doing this.”
“It’s not my fault you can’t handle your vodka well enough to play pool,” Nat scoffed. “On with it.”
“So, if I lost, I had to call you and ask you - I mean, this isn’t just because I lost. Or because I’m drinking. But - I mean -”
“What he’s trying to say,” Reuben interrupted, peeking in from the left side of the screen, looking far more sober than Jake, “is that he’s a pussy and would have never gotten the courage if we wouldn’t have pushed him into a competition we rigged.”
“Rigged!? You two - you had water in that shot glass, didn’t you?” Jake ranted, forgetting about the phone call for a minute.
“What are you guys talking about?” you called, getting the blond pilot’s attention again.
“I was tricked into losing at pool and I had to call you and -” Jake paused, taking a deep breath before blurting out, “can I take you to dinner tomorrow?”
Your jaw dropped, your heart skipping a beat before your stomach fell to your toes. “You’re asking me out because you lost a bet?”
“Yes,” he answered, quickly correcting himself. “I mean, no. Well, kind of.”
“You have about ten seconds to keep me from hanging up and blocking your number,” you threatened, struggling to keep your voice even with the rage and disappointment building inside of you.
“I really like you,” he started, “but I was afraid to ask you out because I know you’ve watched Maverick dick Penny around for your whole life. It doesn’t make it easy to trust someone like me so I just never asked, even though I really wanted to,” he rushed out.
“You’re his lock screen,” Natasha called.
“And his home screen,” Reuben added.
“And the only thing he talks about besides himself,” Javy shouted, the other pilots enthusiastically agreeing while Jake looked increasingly sheepish.
“Is all of that true, Jake?” you asked quietly.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “That day we did the dogfight football? Bob was talking to you, telling you some story about what he and his girlfriend had done over the weekend and you laughed. You looked so beautiful that I had to take a picture. And then the night before we left. At Penny’s bonfire -”
“I knew you took that one,” you smiled. “Ask me again, Jake.”
“Can I take you to dinner tomorrow? As a date?”
“I’d like that.”
“Really?” he exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across his face. He cheered when you nodded, spinning around and shouting “she said yes!” across the nearly empty bar.
“Call me tomorrow,” you giggled. “I need to get my beauty rest if I’m going to look good enough to go out with you tomorrow.”
“Darlin, you could not sleep for a week and still look better than me.”
“Javy, take him home,” you asked, shaking your head at the natural charm spewing from the pilot’s mouth.
“Yes ma’am,” Javy replied, slipping the phone from Jake’s hand and clapping him on the shoulder.
“She said yes, Yote. I have a date tomorrow.”
“I’m hanging up, Javy!” you called before ending the video, falling back into the bed with a giddiness that you hadn’t felt since you were a kid. You had a date with Jake Seresin tomorrow.
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can we get the rock trolls reaction to a bunch of kids randomly appeared ?
Princess Barb is on the outskirts of Rock territory throwing rocks at trees to blow off steam after her dad made another comment about maybe trying to make more friends. She already has tons of friends just because they don’t hang out a lot doesn’t mean anything their schedules just don’t line up very well most days! She throws another rock even harder and misses the tree she was aiming for and groans before hearing an “Ow! What the hell Creek!” And “Oh what slight are you accusing me of this time Branch?” Well that’s unexpected. What would other trolls be doing out here when there’s a concert coming up soon. She leans to the side to try and see who she accidentally hit with the rock. Theres the sounds of two trolls grappling on the ground (It happens sometimes when a show gets too rowdy) and she feels like that’s probably her fault. “Hey sorry about that bro! I didn’t realize anyone was out here!”
Creek is in the middle of his yoga routine when Branch suddenly cries out in pain and starts yelling at him like he had something to do with it. “Look Branch I don’t think it’s reasonable to try and hold me responsible every time you stub your toe.” Branch still looking ticked off if about to retort when they both hear a voice from the tree line say “Sorry about that Bro! I didn’t realize anyone was out here!” And they both look at each other confused before Branch realizes what had actually happened. He mumbles a quiet sorry before responding to the voice and shouting in his ear in the process. “Uh thats alright?” They both start walking towards to voice so they can see who they’re yelling at.
Barb is still staring at the forest when a grey troll around her age enters her line of sight shortly followed by a purple troll with a glittery face? What the hell? “Is that a pop troll man? You know they give you ear worms don’t you?” (It’s a rock troll saying for getting a song stuck in your head)
Creek immediately gives an offended gasp while Branch is confused because this girl seems to be grey but not really because her hair is bright red and seems to have mistaken him for whatever genre she seems to be. He should probably explain the situation but theres a good opportunity to get a jab in at Creek here so he just responds. “Don’t worry his songs aren’t quite good enough for that.” Which just prompts an offended “Rude!” From Creek which is a win for him. “Anyway I’m Branch and this is Creek who are you.”
Barb is even more confused now how doesn’t this kid know who she is? The pop troll she could see but a rock troll should know who she is. “Are you serious bro? I’m Barb you know? Princess Barb?” The other trolls look at each other in surprise she guesses that maybe this kid isn’t a rock troll? Weird but her dad did once tell her stories about trolls who got so sad they lost their colours. She never thought she’d see something like that in person though. Especially not from a pop troll who knew they could even get sad? Weird. She snaps back to the conversation when she hears them start talking to each other. She catches bits of what they’re saying mainly things like “Poppy is definitely going to want to meet her.” “She seems nice enough might as well introduce them.” “We barely know her!” “Stop being paranoid Branch you know Poppy will find out soon enough anyway she’ll be back soon and notice we aren’t at camp.” Literally what the hell are these guys talking about? “Hey could you not talk about me like I’m not here man? It’s not cool!”
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Do I Look Like Your Mommy?// Sunwoo x milf!reader
Part Two to Bad Person Behavior. Read Part One
Sunwoo hates his therapist. “You don’t know how to handle your relationships” Bullshit, old man, you’re the one that doesn’t know how to handle your relationships. Once again, Kim Sunwoo is back to using and discarding people—only this time, he gets hurt in the process.
You think I’m just gonna let you use me? I’m not your fucking toy.
WARNINGS (and it’s real bad this time): INFIDELITY, abusive father, DIVORCE, ploys to get a couple divorced (bad person behavior), PHYSICAL VIOLENCE
SMUT TAGS: mommy kink, unprotected sex, blowjob, fingering, eating out, sex with people on the other side of the door???, MILF
W.c.: 6.4k
Why won’t Sunwoo’s mommies love him? :(
“So, young man,” doctor Shin taps his pen against his clipboard, it’s become somewhat of a nervous tick for him— “your mom still isn’t talking to you, after her failed engagement?”
“Uh-uh…” Sunwoo shook his head. “It’s not my fault her choice of man was a fucking cheating loser.”
“And this best friend?”
“She actually cried to me begging to talk to me again, but I didn’t reply. Good blackmail material, though, real pathetic.”
“I am specialized in treating young people like you—would you like a diagnosis?”
Quack of a doc, Sunwoo thinks to himself. “Am I a psychopath? Treat people like furniture?”
The doctor looked at him with furrowed eyebrows through his glasses. “You’re far from a psychopath, Sunwoo, it’s more like… a childhood socialization gone wrong. You never learned how to show people you value them, so in turn, you drive the people around you away, people you love—like your mother and this friend.”
“I think you’re sugarcoating the actual truth that I’m actually an incurable asshole. I mean, it’s all to text my mom tonight, isn’t it?”
“I don’t understand—”
“I know you report everything back to my mom, anyway…” Sunwoo sighed, stretching his legs out on the sofa. “Mom really should have picked someone with more distance from our family—I’ve met your family, Doctor Shin! I know all about them—Ryujinnie, your wife…”
The doctor looks up from his notepad, frowning, eyes suddenly concerned, changing their light from the stoic look. “If you’re threatening my child—”
Sunwoo barked out with laughter. “No, no, I’m not… I’m not threatening Ryujin, Doctor.” Feigning an interest in the antique desk clock on the doctor’s tabletop, he approaches. Then his hands pick the family photo album on there, turned away—but he knows exactly what’s in the photo.
“I’ve seen this photo, in your house,” Sunwoo says. “Ryujin was so small—you should get a new picture, she’s my age now, isn't she? And anyway, your wife looks so… pretty here.” Sharp-canine smile, like a wolf scoping out prey.
“You can threaten my daughter, if that’s what you’re doing—but Ryujin doesn’t fall for boys like you, Sunwoo, and I’m sure of it.”
“I’m sure she’ll be all the more turned off about me if you mention to her all my dirty therapy secrets,” Sunwoo says, setting the photo frame down. “I mean, god knows that’s what you’re doing with my mother—” The smartwatch on the doctor’s wrist chimes a little, a minimal tune, which he’s grown accustomed to. “I’ll see you next week, doctor.”
.
Yes, Ryujin does hate him. Might even be the leader of the Kim Sunwoo hate club. She and her friends glare at him when he passes by, which Sunwoo enjoys—it’s like he’s the main character. What Ryujin called him specifically, was “dirty fucking bastard”. Which he very much enjoys.
But it also makes sure that he doesn’t feel one tenth of a percent bad when her mother is bouncing on his lap…
Sunwoo can’t help the smile of victory that graced his lithe face while the bedroom—the one you shared with his therapist—filled with the sounds of your thighs against his hips and to be more vulgar, his balls against your pussy—not wanting you to see his exuberance, he tries to hide it by pressing his mouth against your bare breasts, not daring to bite—although he uses both of his hands to play with them, rubbing them until they hardened.
“Ughh, mommy… mommy, may I?”
He’s so very everywhere in you and on you that you don’t even remember what he’s getting at. “Huh… oh, yes, yes, good boy, you’re such a good boy for asking—” you slipped into a long moan when he finally sucks on your breasts, paying attention to both of them—the wetness of his tongue lapping against those swells makes you cream all the more on his cock.
You know you’re leaking, and it makes him more satisfied, that he’s taking you there–he knows your husband never could.
He’s never even handled this much… wetness with any girl of his own age before—actually, scratch that, even the older ladies he fucks don’t feel this warm and wet around him, take him in so perfectly. It’s the kind of heat in both your cores that makes his mouth water, it’s…
… sublime.
It’s okay that he cums in you, because you’re a grown up, you didn’t worry and lose all inhibition in anxiety like those girls his age… You simply grin at him. Like you’re proud that you’ve brought him there. Oh, how much he loved this… everything’s going according to plan.
He knows you probably don’t fuck Dr. Shin that much anymore, but… the implication of the old doc fucking a pussy he used—
Kim Sunwoo is evil.
Sunwoo looks over at you after you’ve cleaned yourself up, using hair mist and combing your fucked out hair (that he’d so meanly grabbed until strands came out sticking to his sweaty palms) and trying to get the smell of sex out of the bathroom.
Sunwoo had other ulterior motives to coming here today, though.
“So…” he starts, you’re still combing your hair, watching him through the vanity mirror. “Have you thought about what I said last time? And the time before that and the time before and that time after you sucked me off in the poolhouse—”
“It’s not that easy, Sunwoo,” you tell him.
“Ryujin’s over 20 years old, if you’re worried about that. She can handle it. Hell, my parents got divorced when I was eleven, and I’m a pretty outstanding member of society, if you ask me.”
“Sure.” You giggled, not arguing with him. “But marriage isn’t one of your relationships, Sunwoo, I can’t just ‘dump’ him over text… He and I have a child together.”
“You should hate him,” Sunwoo says raspily against your skin, as he kissed up your arms and then down your collarbones. “He talks in that therapy-room voice to everybody, like we’re all his patients, and, Y/n, just think—he’s just not a good conversationalist.”
You giggle.
“I mean, I’m the age of your child, and you enjoy your talks with me more, don’t you?”
“Sunwoo,” you called, brushing the hair out of his eyes, “you really are a good speech-partner. But you’re also just a boy.”
“Mommy,” Sunwoo whined out, “you’re not listening to me!”
“Don’t be a brat. I’m not going to divorce him, what about Ryujin?”
“He’s a cheater, you should serve him papers and just get paid in every single way you could get paid.”
“It’s not that easy…”
“You know I’m skipping my lectures to satisfy you, you could at least hear me out,” Sunwoo says.
“Why’s it so important to you?” you probed, suddenly curious.
“I want you to be happy. You’re still young, beautiful… you’re way too good for him, you know that.” Sunwoo looked at you with searching, no-nonsense eyes. He means everything he says. Even though he seemed incredibly comical trying to be serious. “And I wanted to nail you in his sacred marital bed, of course.” You just looked at him with amused eyes, which he’s surprised by. “What? Is that too predictable of me?”
“You’re just cute.”
.
His mother had been planning this party for a month, and he had no idea it was today. She hadn’t talked to him in a while.
But tonight, his house filled up with more and more people—old, ugly people he didn’t care for, and their stupid children—and his mom finally acknowledged his presence in the house, introducing him to the crowd as he came out of his room.
“Aigoo, Sunwoo, my son~” His mom takes his face in her hands, cold manicured hands against his cheeks. “Everyone’s been asking about you! Tell them about the soccer scholarship you got.”
“Uh, it’s…” Scratching his head, he looked over at his mom—it’s the first time she’d smiled at him in months. He could cry, if he was the type to cry about it. “It’s nothing.”
Trying to take his mind off his mother’s insincere smile, he lounged around the party, basically waltzing like the prince in Cinderella through the house, stealing shrimps from their icing, eating olives off martinis.
And you’re here.
A grin slowly spreads across his face as he locates you, dressed hot with a dress with a skirt that cut in a way that made his dick hook in his pants—if he wasn’t trying to describe it exactly—and you’re bent over the table, talking to some old, fat, balding man.
Ah, why are your tastes just so…
“Hello, Mrs. Shin,” he murmurs thickly into your ear, alcohol-dipped olives on his breath. You didn’t acknowledge him, and he likes this game already, one hand trailing up your exposed legs… up and up, until it reaches your hips. He feels your little lace panties, and a knowing smile crept up his face…
“Excuse me,” you tell your speech partner. “What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Come with me,” Sunwoo requested. You shake your head up at him, and his grin just spreads. “I don’t think you understand, you’re in my house. It’s like walking into a wolf den, I’m just gonna have to swallow you—” He attaches his mouth to your shoulder, biting down. You swiftly pull away.
“Sunwoo!”
“Relax, everyone will just think I’m a drunk little idiot boy and you’re helping me out, being my mom’s beloved friend.”
He finally gets you to go upstairs to his room, inconspicuously—no one cares what anyone was doing, anyway, and thankfully most of the grownups were being entertained by a story in the living room.
He takes you by the hand even farther into his room, to his bathroom. “Let’s do it, right now. Here.”
You frowned. “That’s putrid.”
“Why?” he whined. “It’s a bathroom hookup during a party, everyone does it!”
“Yeah, maybe at your age,” you laughed, “not mine.”
“Come on.”
“There’s nothing in it for me.”
“Can’t you just do it because you like me? Because I’m your good boy?”
Sunwoo’s funny when he’s whiney and horny. You think you just go along with it because there’s not really much to lose anyway, and, plus, the eye-rolling-back-jaws-slack face Sunwoo does when he cums is just too entertaining to pass off.
He’s just wearing normal pants, so you just pull them down, and then next come his boxers, his gorgeous cock—which is strange, but there’s not other word for it, it’s big when it’s hard, he’s a grower—and he’s hard now, has been since he saw you in that dress.
“You better not get anything on my dress,” you told him.
Sunwoo didn’t even play coy. He leans his head back against the door, moaning “mm-hmm” and lets you take over his body.
The minute your mouth is around him, he loses control. Perhaps he didn’t have much to begin with, but really, he had no sense of inhibition to be quiet—the party was so goddamn loud downstairs anyway.
But you’re sure they’d be able to tell between party sounds and the sound of a boy screaming, so you shush him, silently—as your tongue wrapped around the underside of his cock.
“More,” he begged, he’s more a mess of labored breathing now, as he tries to be quiet. The tortured breaths and moans are making you more of a mess, in those little pink lace panties that Sunwoo had felt earlier—but you knew you’d get no release, not tonight.
Sunwoo groans and bites down on his fist when you take the whole of him in, imagining the way he’s gagging you, being all the way in your throat, got him even hotter, ready to spill into your mouth right then and there.
“Fuck,” he moaned, “fuck. I didn’t lock the bedroom door—”
“Lock this one, then,” you say.
Thinking about someone being outside listening, just behind his bathroom door, made Sunwoo even more turned on, and he starts thrusting himself into your mouth, unable to control himself.
“You only cum when I tell you to,” you tell him. “I didn’t come all the way here for you to not play by my rules, okay?”
“Mmm, fuck, you’re so sexy when you talk like that—” But his teasing only turned into a series of broken moans once you resume pumping his cock, putting your lips around it and sucking with hollowed cheeks. Sunwoo grabs the doorframe for leverage and just lets out a sound that was basically a manish scream, with an opened jaw and wild eyes. “Fuck, fuck! I still can’t? I’m not allowed? But Y/N—”
You wish you could gag him, but there’s nothing to do it with, so you just keep sucking him off, torturously edging him. You don’t even know how he’s been holding himself off this long, it’s actually getting genuinely impressive.
“Mommy!” His voice had given out and he was just whispering now. “Mommy, please. Please, please, I have to—”
“Alright,” you relent. “Be a good boy and cum.”
Sunwoo takes over for your hands, pumping himself onto the carpet, as you just move to the side and watch him fall apart. The clarity’s hitting him, he’s basically high—and he’s genuinely never had an orgasm this good before, at least not standing up and in his house.
“Wow,” he says. “Wow, I… I’m not even sad anymore.”
You giggle, going over to fix your lipstick in the mirror. Sunwoo tucks himself back in his pants, not even a little wistful—this was the best way this could have ever gone. “What were you sad about?” You finally ask.
“My mom… she ignores me all the time but today she pretended she still likes me,” he answered. “Called me ‘son’ and everything. It’s sad.”
“She loves you,” you say, more a promise than anything. “She’s not ‘pretending’ to like you.”
“I mean… she won’t even talk to me, right now she’s just nice to me for show.” He blinked away stray tears. “When she’s nice to me it hurts even more.”
“Sunwoo, you acted like a bad person.”
“Even if I’m bad—!” Sunwoo’s head shoots up to look at you. “Even if I’m bad, she should love me. Like a real mother.”
“Forgiveness takes time,” you say wisely, and when you look him in the eyes again, he’s changed his demeanor entirely. All the sadness, gone. He kisses you again, and this time he’s in control, both hands holding your face in place. When it’s not enough, when he needs more of you—he attaches his lips to your neck next, hands roaming under your dress, he just needs more skin, more softness, more you.
“Mooom!” a girly voice called out from the hall, and you pull away, while Sunwoo bites his lip, trying to contain his annoyance. “Mooom, I thought I heard your voice here?”
You didn’t need to push him away, Sunwoo steps down from attaching his lips to your neck, and you swipe your hand away at his kiss-mark, hoping it leaves no hickeys—you’re wearing a neck-less dress. “Mom?” Ryujin calls again, opening the door, only to become face-leveled with Sunwoo.
“You?! Why are you—”
“Hello, Ryujinnie!” Sunwoo’s hand quickly raises up to mess the younger girl’s hair up, into a bird’s nest-disarray of brunette hair. “Your mommy and I were just—”
“Having a talk,” you say quickly, heels clicking as they carried you out the door. “Sunwoo’s the host tonight, dear, I was just helping him with some… things.”
.
Sunwoo rings the bell to your front door, and waits. An envelope of photos and the calling card of the best law firms in the area clutched under his arm. You answer through the intercom. “Who is it?”
“Special delivery.”
He’s surprised you can actually recognize his voice, as you ring him in. He quickly goes to the master bedroom, gloating that he had you all to himself. Your husband’s at work and Ryujin must be at college.
You’re lying in bed—it’s just noon, and of course you get to sleep in—and he lays the envelope beside you, with a grin. “Your ticket out,” he says.
You cut through the envelope and start to file through the photos, and it’s text message screenshots—dick pic between them; paparazzi-shot-esque photos of your husband and a younger woman; an actual selfie of the two of them in bed, or just the girl with Dr. Shin behind somewhere, in the frame.
“These are—” you gasp.
“The law’s on your side! The jury’s gonna eat this up, and you’re gonna get all the alimony.”
“How?”
“Pfft.” He blows the bangs off his forehead. They just land back, strangely framing his eyes so sweetly. “It was easy-peasy trying to get these.”
“PI?” you wondered.
“Wouldn’t even need one, when I know the woman he’s fucking.” He only realizes that he shouldn’t gloat so much about a marital affair, when you must also be hurt by it. He tries to turn his expression solemn, although a grin hints at the corners of his mouth. “Soooo, you promise you’ll serve him the papers soon? I hope the court date is on the day of my session.”
You laughed. “I don’t understand why you’re hellbent on divorcing me, but you’re right. I’m not happy here.”
Sunwoo grinned at you, and he basically pounced on you, straddling your thighs. He puts the envelope away on the bedside table. “I’m setting you free,” he told you, “I’m setting all of you free…” His hand reached over underneath your flimsy little night dress and felt for your clit, locating it and gently rolling it under his index finger.
He didn’t suggest anything verbally, but a low groan came out of his throat, as he felt your bare pussy under his hands.
You silently take his hands into yours, just to get them away from between your legs… there’s a scar in the middle of his wrist, which you’ve never noticed before, so today you rub figure eights around it and look up into his eyes.
He has them closed, like he doesn’t want to face you. “What happened here?”
“I fell—” he stops himself. “No, I didn’t…”
You furrow your brows in concern, signaling that he goes on.
“When my parents were still married… my mom didn’t see a way for it to get any better than being married to a cutthroat lawyer, so she was always on his side. Even when… even when he wasn’t the best. Not just to me, though… he’d blatantly cheat and she wouldn’t say a word. I’d get… There would be, like, bruises, all over me, and she’d say, tell the doctor you fell. So that’s what I kept doing. I got this when he yanked me into the house and I kept trying to push him off, so he flung me against the wall. I don’t know at which point I broke it. The scar’s from surgery. I finally told a school nurse that my dad threw me against the wall, and she said: honey, it doesn’t matter what he does, he’s still your father. So I just kept telling people I fell.”
“Sunwoo…” you cup his face in your hands, and he still has his eyes closed, like he doesn’t want to see, he doesn’t want to feel.
“My mom divorced him and got all his money though.” He turns to you with brand new eyes. “See? Divorce saves the day. Best thing in the whole world. Now you can do that.” Sunwoo grinned down at you. “So do you want to do this or not? You owe me one.”
You relent silently, eyes still greatly disturbed by what Sunwoo disclosed, you can’t even begin to think of having sex right now, but Sunwoo seemed to be turned on by the compassion you suddenly feel for him, as he lifts up your nightdress to your breasts, not even obsessed and attacking them like he usually does—he’s going to be a grown-up about this, hands rested pinning your waist down to the bed as he licked up your slit, wetting it.
You feel his sharp nose poking against your sensitive skin, never touched by light—and once he starts lapping at your clit, just rolling it under his tongue, you instinctively bring your hands to grab his thick hair. “Ahh, slower.”
“Okay, mommy…”
“There’s no way I’m going to get wet after what you’ve said to me,” you say dejectedly.
You feel Sunwoo smile against your poor, sensitive skin. “Just imagine me instead…” Sounds of the wet slurping, like he’s eating, resumed. “Just imagine I’m fucking you… imagine my cock… imagine me holding your head down… mmm—on the bed… I’m fucking you like one of my college whores. You like that? You want to be fucked like I don’t give a crap about you?”
You mewled a little as you followed his instructions, it’s like what you do with your vibrator every night, except there’s a boy on his knees between your legs, getting you off.
“Yeah, you’re getting wetter…” He was too occupied to talk, but he tried. “Just keep doing that—does your pussy feel empty?”
“Uhhuh,” you answered quickly.
“Poor pretty little lady… let me help you.”
You’re surprised the lapping at your clit hasn’t stopped, but suddenly Sunwoo’s parting your legs even more, two long, slender fingers spreading you open, the middle one going up all the way and curling up inside of you.
You jump up with a jolt and almost scream, you suddenly remember that you still have his hair in your hands, but you don’t want to pull, not even to remind him you’re still under him, feeling so much—you wait it out.
His hands pump in and out of you in incredible speed, and his tongue kept working at your clit. He’s relentless, and somehow knows your body better than you know it. When he feels your legs starting to shake around him, he realizes he can’t make you cum on his tongue, switching to flicking your clit with a thumb, and licking at your slit.
“Sunwoo, don’t!” For some reason you found cumming into his mouth too dirty for your liking. “I’m gonna—ah—”
“On my tongue,” he says. But you hold yourself back. “I said, on my tongue.” What happened to the boy calling you mommy… but you relent, the shift in his tone scaring you straight, and you cum, clenching around nothing.
He laps up everything, tongue dripping with drool and cum so much onto the bedsheets that it makes it look like a hentai comic frame. You simply lay back on the pillows, coming down from the orgasm. It really was a lot for you, someone whose husband had never done this with her.
“Do you want to cum now?” you murmured, but in the silence of the house and the whole neighborhood, he hears you.
“If you want to make me,” he says, ever so diligently. You’ve never seen Sunwoo be this cute.
“Fuck mommy’s throat, baby,” you commanded, and the boy follows suit without a question. Your fingers are on the buckles of his belt, and as you pulled out the leather out of the loops, your fingers get stuck in some of them, you’re still so fucked out, riding a high that you can barely comprehend that all you needed to do was disentangle your fingers from the loops…
But you get him out of his jeans anyway, and just when you’re pulling his briefs down, down the happy trail and the mess of beautiful wild hair—you hear the front door being opened.
Sunwoo looks at you in alarm, but also with challenging eyes. He wants to see how this works out.
“Mom?” Ryujin’s voice called from the living room. “Yeji flung a whole bat at me—I had to go to the nurse!”
Sunwoo rolls his eyes as he pulls away from you, tongue still fresh with the taste of you. “Our little cockblocker…”
“MOM! I’M CONCUSSED!”
Sunwoo steps away from you slowly as you tried to regain your composure—he helps you with your little sundress, zipping the side up himself. Then a chaste kiss on the side of your head. “I’ll leave through the window,” he offered. “Can’t help if she sees me climbing out, though.”
“You’re a good boy, Sunwoo,” you say to him softly. “Think of me later when you're getting yourself off.”
.
He only sees Dr. Shin every odd week, so he hears about the divorce first before he gets to see the defeated look on the doctor's face. The power he could have on this man's life was just hilarious.
This week, when he goes to his session, the doctor looks like he’d aged twenty years overnight. Sunwoo gloats. “Before you ask me about my life, why don’t we talk about yours—how’s the divorce going?”
Sunwoo knows Doctor Shin knows. There’s just that resentment he always sees in the eyes of his victims. “It’s going very poorly,” the older man answered, “but I saw an old friend of yours in the courtroom, Sunwoo, and I thought we could lead our session with that.”
“An old… friend?”
“You don’t know, huh? How long has it been since you've sat at the same dinner table as your father?” When Sunwoo went quiet, not understanding, he continued: “Lawyer Kim took my wife’s case, Sunwoo. Your very esteemed patriarch.”
Sunwoo’s body went jittery.
“Would you like to talk about that?” Doctor Shin raises his eyebrows and gawks at him, but Sunwoo’s staring at his own two feet, shell-shocked.
“What do you mean, my father is taking the case?”
“I mean,” Doctor Shin hisses, voice dropping and laced with poison, “when I saw his face in the courtroom, the first thing that came to mind is that he gave you his worst features, including those damned, cruel eyes, nose that begs to be punched, and your broken mind. Hopefully neither you nor the man that gave you life will ever see a peaceful day, for ruining my life this way.” He clasped his hands together, back to his normal demeanor. “So do you want to talk about the effect of your father figure in your life?” When the boy stayed silent, until minutes passed without either party saying anything, the therapist continued: “I mean, it’s obvious you have no father figures in your life.”
“What—”
“You display fatherless behavior.”
.
“Y/N is having a divorce party,” his mom tells him. “Oh—I keep calling her Y/N Shin, she’s back to her old last name—ah, the joys of being divorced…”
Sunwoo lifts his head up to look at her. “You weren’t invited.”
“No…”
“Because her lawyer is your ex-husband.”
His mom shrugged.
“Mom! Why are you not mad?”
“It’s fine, honey, it’s his business.”
He’d be cursing in front of his mom if he could. He kicks the kitchen stool he’s sitting on backwards, doesn’t look back when it falls to the ground. He’s wearing an overworn band T-shirt that’s torn at some places, but he puts a flannel on top of it, he doesn’t even know how he got his shoes on but they’re on.
“Sunwoo,” his mom called. “What are you doing?! It’s none of your business who her lawyer is—”
“Yes, it is!” He slams the door to the house.
A divorce party largely consisted of bored housewives who were horrible people but became even more horrible people once the champagne hits. The music choice was incredibly grating… although he’s sure the rap he listens to would annoy these women just the same.
His father left. It’s that late into the evening. And yet… he could smell the Cuban cigars and the cologne he’s been wearing for twenty straight years, it gave him a headache and left him indignant, with aching joints and scars.
“You’re not meant to be here…” your voice trailed off as you saw the boy enter the room. Quickly, you pull him by the wrist to a secluded corner. “What are you doing here?! You know now’s not a good time for us to—”
“As if I’d want to?!” Sunwoo demanded. “I know what you’re doing with my father—and I know my father doesn’t just let pretty things run past him. What, did you fuck him in the same bed you fucked me, you dirty—”
You cup his mouth shut. “What is wrong with you?”
He pried your hands off of him. “I’m right, aren’t I?” he scoffed. “You know, I thought you were better than that. Better than one of my dad's whores.”
“Sunwoo,” you cooed to the boy, “let’s not pretend this is actually a big deal—you’re just mad you weren't the only man I was flirting around with.”
“You think I care who the fuck you’re fucking? I care because that man hurt me!” Sunwoo reached out for your hand, aggressively making you feel over his chest. The scar, skin-deep that the tissue had grown over it, the one he always says hurts— “This,” he says. “He did this to me. He did worse to my mom—and you don’t even care—about me, or about your friendship with her.”
“Sunwoo,” you cooed, absolutely motherly, “Sunwoo… You obviously don’t care too much for your mother either, if you could just sneak around with her friend like this.”
Sunwoo pulls back in alarm. “Don’t tell me how I’m supposed to treat my mother—How can you even touch him, sign contracts with him, look at him—” You’re suddenly concerned about the wildness in his eyes, so you sympathetically try to pull him back down to earth, just so he would calm down, but he’s fervent and feral, it’s like something in him just broke, and everything just comes out in anger. If it was possible he’d be breathing fire.
“Sunwoo,” you called him, grabbing his form, shaking with anger, by the shoulders. “It’s not that serious.”
“Not that serious?!” he demands, but you notice how his voice had lowered into a small, childish hiss. “And I fucking gave you the way out. You think I’m just going to let you use me? I’m not your fucking toy.”
“The divorce was your idea,” you say curtly, the tone you use with Ryujin when she’s too loud for your liking. “He was the only way I’d win the settlement—come on, Sunwoo, you can’t possibly blame me for hiring him.”
“Fuck him. And fuck you.”
Sunwoo shoves past you, and as the premature celebrations go on, he treads with gritted teeth towards the kitchen, past the caterers with appetizer plates. He felt like spitting on that man’s face, what the fuck, why did you have such terrible fucking taste—
He finds a brunette head of highlighted hair, turned away from the door and drinking out of a wine glass.
Sunwoo grabs the bottle she’s drinking from—it’s old, expensive French vineyard wine that he’s suddenly developed a taste for. Yet another thing he’s stolen from the Shins. “It was me, by the way,” he spat out at Ryujin, the red liquid thick in his throat. “I fucked your mom and got your parents divorced. Still think I’m a dirty fucking bastard?” He waits for the realization to spread across her face, before turning away on his heels. Wine clasped in hand.
Sunwoo goes to the pier to get drunk that day. There couldn’t be ‘win some lose some’ with him, Kim Sunwoo had to win. Everything. And he’s already let his dad win for the last time in his life.
.
It’s easy to act like they’re close again. Like his mom, Mister-Lawyer Kim would never ignore an invitation from Sunwoo—even if they lacked sincerity, they had an incredible need to perform. And the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.
Mister-Lawyer doesn’t bother to call Sunwoo, simply texting sporadically for hours, while Sunwoo laid on his giant million-thread count bedsheets checking his phone, taking a sick day from school. He could hear his mother’s laughter from downstairs as she kept talking to a distant aunt, it was sort of sweet.
Don’t worry, mom. This guy won’t win again. But really, deep down he knew it wasn’t a matter of this mommy—it was about the other ‘mommy’.
Kneeled between his legs as he gripped the doorframe as you sucked him, gritted teeth, your name echoing. Just your name. And then it turns to that sweet little nickname. Mommy, mommy, please, mommy, let me cum.
He clicked his tongue as the memory came to mind. How crass… well. He wasn’t losing his mommy to that man again.
Suddenly his dad sent him a text, the one he’s been waiting for: if you want to catch up, we can have dinner, son!
With a grin, he wrote back, thumbs tapping two keys in one second: what about at the Shins? I'm best friends with Ryujin. You want a clientele dinner, don’t you?
You better not be up to anything.
Congratulate me on the case, at least.
Asshole, Sunwoo mumbles to himself. I knew you’d win, dad. Unbeatable.
He needs to wash his hands and mouth with anti-bacterial soap after he’s typed the word ‘dad’ out. But the dinner was the next evening, and he carefully took out his suit from the closet, and started ironing it—if his father was going to kill him, he could at least go out in style.
.
Your husband moved out. And all his pictures are gone.
And yet Sunwoo couldn’t even delight in his mission-clear, because he’s too jittery, and the difference of the house is throwing him off. But the old doctor was gone… so was half of his estate, left to you. And he still couldn’t gloat, because now there was a bigger bump in the road.
He knows you two must be fucking. Just the way his father hangs his arms around your body, you weren’t just a client.
Somehow it didn’t make him feel better that he had you first. He could just start crying tears of blood once he thinks back on every secret he ever told you, every display of trust—just for you to fuck his worst enemy like he hadn’t bared his heart to you.
It hurt, but he suppressed the emotions, and sat down at the table. The light of the sunset streamed beautiful and red through the lawn—your ex-husband was rich and could afford all that beauty—while Ryujin stared daggers at him.
“You ruined my life,” Ryujin spat at him from across the table.
Coolly, he laid back on the chair. “Calm down a little.”
Ryujin kept glaring at him. “You and your father planned this didn’t you?”
“Don’t accuse me of being in cahoots with my father,” Sunwoo speaks, disgust dripping from his tongue as he says the f-word. “Chill out, Ryujin. I’ve done your mom so many times, I’m basically your step dad.”
“You. Fucking.” Ryujin readies her knife, as she lunges over a corner of the table to hurt Sunwoo, but he laughs at her face, which makes her all the more rage-filled. She’s about to literally stab him with a steak knife, when the parents re-enter the room.
“Ryujin!”
“Sunwoo!”
Mister-lawyer grabs his son by the nape of his neck. “Just what do you think you’re doing, making enemies out of clients?” he demanded.
Sunwoo paid no mind to him, looking over at you. “You want to see what he’s really like? Behind closed doors and everything?”
“Don’t play smart, remember who brought you into this world, boy.” His father pushed two fingers into the side of his skull, as if to drill the thought into his head.
Sunwoo laughed at his face as if he were laughing at death. “I was starting to miss the way you’d say that to me.” Challenging eyes, but anyone could see he was scared—his pupils were shaking. You stood by, worried, and even Ryujin didn’t have a clue what was going on. “What could you do to me this time? Haven’t you run out of torture methods?”
“You watch yourself, before I—” The lawyer did try to hold himself back, but his hand was raised already, eager to snap. Sunwoo stood in front of him, a willing victim.
“This is the man you want to fuck around with?” he demanded of you.
“Oh, Sunwoo, I thought you got over it…”
“Still haven’t learned, have you?” The lawyer shoved him back with one pointer finger, but there was so much force to be felt in it. Sunwoo lost his footing for a bit. “You’re still the dirty little mutt that needs to be taught a lesson—and never learned. Goddamn, how can my son be so stupid?”
“I don’t want to be your son, I—”
He didn’t know if it was a hand of open-fist or closed, he’s just falling to the floor. He takes down one of your decorative pure-sandglass vases down with him, and it crashed into shards, some of them painful and stabbing through his skin. He lands on its shards, and when he tries to support himself on the marble floor, it’s impossible to find a place not riddled with the glass. Suddenly he’s small again, he wants to cry, he knows he can’t—whatever pride he had left, his dad would take it from him again.
And again and again and—
“Imbecile for a son,” his father spat out, thoughtlessly stepping over his body, two pantsuit-clad legs that made Sunwoo feel small and insignificant again, just like in childhood. He gave Sunwoo a mean, undignified look before he he turned his back on him and exited the room. With him removed, Sunwoo could breathe again—although his heart rate never slowed. It seemed as if his heart had become the size of his chest, he could feel the beating in his ears. And he couldn’t even remember to breathe.
Ryujin walked over to his shaking form on the floor, carrying a napkin that she so unkindly throws on him, landing like a kite on his chest. “Calm down a little, Sunwoo.”
He tastes the cut on his cheek, and the glass in his palms cut through. And he couldn't let go of the shard, in his panic he just grabbed onto it.
There has to be a lesson in there somewhere.
#the boyz x reader#the boyz smut#tbz smut#tbz x reader#sunwoo smut#sunwoo x reader#sunwoo fic#sunwoo imagines#sunwoo scenarios#tbz scenarios#the boyz scenarios#tbz hard hours#the boyz imagines
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Unwell - Remus Lupin
A/N: ahhh xD I really hope I did justice to this story since it’s sort of a prequel but it can stand on its own :) I know a lot of you love Bent so I hope this lives up to its match xD also I changed the name, sorry this one seemed to fit better and also I would like to thank ♥️Emily a lovely anon go helped me so much with ideas! I really hope you like it, love! :)
Request - pan-pride-12 asked: Could I request an imagine Maybe Sirius and Regs little sister who is sorted into hufflepuff and that is really shy ends up falling in love with Remus but doesn't say anything because she doesn't think he feels the same(she'd rather have him in her life as friend then nothing at all) and you could go from there but could it have a happy ending please.
Warnings: reader is constantly ill and her brothers take care of her
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter :) gif isn’t mine :D
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Unwell
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know, right now you can't tell
But stay a while and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
Sirius Black dragged himself into the Great Hall early in the morning with dark, prominent circles under his eyes. He plopped himself down next to his friends and smashed his head against the table. Remus immediately poured a large cup of coffee in front of him.
“Thank you, Moony” he mumbled with his head still buried in his arm.
“What happened to you, Padfoot? Stayed up with that blonde Ravenclaw bird you’ve been talking to?” James smirked at his best friend while Peter laughed.
Sirius slowly lifted up his head and shook his head while he grabbed his coffee. He was too tired to think of a snarky comeback.
“No, my sister was really sick last night” he said, erasing the smiles off James and Peter’s faces. The three Marauders knew very well about the youngest Black’s condition. “She threw up like four times and had a fever of 102” he continued before getting a sip of his coffee. “She didn’t get any sleep so neither did I. Regulus is with her right now” he said, starting to get some food on his plate.
Remus looked up from his Daily Prophet feeling his heart break at the thought of the girl he was in love with being in pain. “I’m sorry, mate” he said, placing his hand on Sirius’ shoulder, not really knowing what else to say.
“It’s all bloody Sprout’s fault anyway!” Sirius ranted. “She’s allergic to like half the plants in the greenhouse, she shouldn’t be forced to be near them!”
“I know mate,” James said. “But at least it’s Saturday so maybe she can get some rest” he suggested.
“Speaking of which, are you still coming to Hogsmeade today?” Peter asked, reaching for seconds.
“For a little bit. Might get her some candy or something so she’ll feel better. As long as Regulus is okay watching her” he said, getting more coffee.
“I can stay with her” Remus blurted out before he could stop himself.
James smirked at the werewolf while Peter looked confused. Sirius turned to look at him with his eyebrow arched up.
“Um… you can stay with her?”
“Well not stay uh- with her” he stuttered. “I just mean, I’m not going to Hogsmeade today so-”
“Really? Why is that, Moony?” James asked, resting his head on his hand, extremely interested in the conversation.
“Well, Prongs” he said between clenched teeth. “Since the full moon is next week I thought I’d stay and get ahead in my schoolwork” he replied. “So, I can stay and keep her company” he said, going back to his breakfast.
“That is mighty kind of you, Moony” James said, earning a glare from the werewolf.
“Mate, seriously? You wouldn’t mind?” Sirius asked him. He was honestly really tired and as much as he loved you, he needed a break. “I’ll just be gone for like an hour tops and I honestly think she’s gonna sleep all day so you can just-”
“Padfoot, it’s fine” Remus insisted. “I can check on her and make sure she gets some rest-”
“Could you also please make sure she eats something? She sometimes doesn’t-”
“I will” Remus assured him. “Really, Pads. Just go enjoy Hogsmeade, I’ll stay here working and keep her company” he told him.
“Thanks so much, Moons” Sirius said, finishing his coffee and getting up. “I’ll let Reg know” he told him.
“I’ll come with you, I need to get my sweater” Peter said, getting up too. “Meet outside?” he told James and Sirius and they both nodded before the other two boys left the Great Hall.
“So…” James said turning to Remus who was reading his Daily Prophet again. “You’re staying here, huh?” he smirked. Remus turned his eyes from the paper to his friend.
“Yeah, I thought Padfoot could use a break-”
“Or… you thought… you could stay here with someone” James said, arching his eyebrows up and down.
“Prongs, what are you trying to say?” he said, putting the paper away.
“Nothing” James shrugged. “I’m just saying I find it interesting that you’re staying behind with... someone” he told him.
“Stop saying it like that! I’m not staying behind with her. I need to-”
“Get ahead on homework? The homework you told me you just finished last night?” he said, placing his head on his hand.
“What’s your point, James?” Remus said, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his tea.
“You’re in love with her” he smiled, making Remus choke on his tea.
“W-what?” he asked, trying to recover himself and faking a laugh. “That is just ridiculous, Prongs-”
“Is it, Remus?”
“Yes, James. It is” he glared at the bespectacled boy.
“Tell me I’m wrong, then” James said with a smirk still plastered on his face.
“W-well… you’re wrong” Remus said unconvincingly.
“You know you’re a terrible liar, right?”
“I’m not lying” he chuckled.
“You just looked away” James pointed out.
“So?”
“You do that every time you lie” he shrugged.
“No, I don’t” he said, rolling his eyes again. “Shit” he muttered.
“I knew it” James said excitedly, banging his hands on the table.
“Would you keep it down? If Padfoot finds out he’s gonna kill me!”
“No, he’s not” James laughed. “I mean, he’s not gonna like it but… I don’t think he’s gonna kill you” he told him.
“Really?”
“Look mate, we all love her and try to help as much as we can but… Wormtail and I don’t do nearly as much as you do for her and none of us look as miserable as you do whenever Padfoot tells us it’s been a rough night” he explained. “I know you don’t do it because Sirius is your favorite person-”
“Sirius is not my favorite person-!”
“Exactly, that’s what I’m saying, he’s not” he told him. “It’s her. And she also loves it when you take care of her” he told him.
“What?”
“You haven’t noticed?” James asked. “You always make her smile whenever we come visit her and her face lights up when you read to her” he told her.
“She- she does?” he asked with a small smile.
“I’m telling you, mate. I’ve known for a while. And if you ask me, you’d be kinda perfect for each other” he told him.
“Really?”
“Yeah” James said as if it was obvious. “I know you said you’re not staying with her, but I think she would love to know that you are” he said before getting up. “Think about it, mate” he told Remus before he left the Great Hall.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
You rolled around on your bed, waking up when you started coughing. You slowly sat up and grabbed the glass of water on your nightstand and then the little potion Regulus had left for you. You were finally feeling a little bit better and decided to take a shower and head down to the library to get some books and maybe get something to eat as well. You were happy both your brothers went to enjoy their day in Hogsmeade. You felt extremely guilty that they had to miss so many things because they were taking care of you. And the two of them could be really overprotective sometimes so you were happy they took a break.
You entered the library and wandered through the halls looking for books and then you heard him. You could recognize his laughter anywhere. You grabbed the book to your left and you saw Remus on the other side of the bookshelf. You felt your heart quickly racing when he smiled but it dropped as soon as you saw he was talking to a couple of girls from Gryffindor. You had seen them around the Marauders before and you had always assumed they liked Sirius or James or maybe Peter. But you noticed that one of them seemed particularly interested in everything Remus had to say. She laughed extra hard whenever he said something funny. She always made it a habit to find an excuse to touch Remus whenever they talked.
And you noticed all these things because it always made your heart ache when it happened. Because you had been in love with Remus Lupin for a very long time. But you were certain that he would never look at you that way. Because you were Sirius’ little sister that got sick all the time. So you tried to avoid thinking about that but it was a bit harder whenever you saw him with these girls around. You sighed, deciding to not make yourself feel worse, and put the book back before you walked away. But it wasn’t that long before he found you.
“Love?”
You turned around to see Remus at the end of the hallway in the Library now.
“Remus” you said with a weak smile.
“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” he asked, with a small smile, walking closer to you.
You looked at him nervously and hugged the books closer to your chest.
“Please, don’t tell my brothers” you begged. “I just came here to get a few books and I was going to get something to eat and go back to my room. I just don’t want to fall behind in my classes and I know that-”
“Relax, love” he smiled sweetly at you and took the books from you. “I won’t tell your brothers, I promise” he said, making your cheeks burn and your heart flutter as it happened whenever he smiled your way and even more when he called you ‘love’.
“Thank you” you smiled weakly. “Why aren’t you in Hogsmeade?” you asked. “Did Sirius send you to make sure that I wasn’t-?”
“No” he chuckled. “I swear, neither one of your brothers sent me” he insisted as the two of you walked out of the library and over to the kitchens.
“So, how come you’re here then?” you asked confused.
“Well, I wanted to see if you were okay” he said, making your heart race a little. “Sirius said you had a tough night” he said, making your heart drop instead. Of course, he’s only here because he’s worried that you’re his best friend’s fragile little sister who always gets sick and may just drop dead at any moment.
“Oh” you said, looking away. “I’m fine, thanks” you said. “You didn’t have to come all this way to check up on me. I’m not gonna die” you told him, trying to make a joke but Remus didn’t laugh.
“You know I don’t mind, right?” he told you.
“Right” you smiled sadly.
“I don’t” he said softly, stopping you before you could enter the kitchens.
“Look, Remus, I… I really appreciate you looking after me, but you don’t have to ruin your whole Saturday to do it” you said with a tight smile.
“I’m not ruining my Saturday-”
“Wouldn’t you rather be at Hogsmeade?”
“Not really” he admitted, surprising you a little. “Why do you think I’d only care about you because one of your brothers sent me here?” he asked.
Before you could reply, the door to the kitchen opened, revealing one of the elves with a big basket of food.
“Miss Black” Blim said, happily. “We were expecting you. Your brother instructed for us to prepare a special meal for you.”
You looked at Remus as if to say that everyone around you basically cared about you because your brothers took care of you and you couldn’t do it yourself. But you then looked back at the basket full of food and smiled politely because of the hard work the elves put into it.
“Thank you, Blim” you said, taking the basket from the elf. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble” you smiled.
“Oh, no trouble at all. We are happy we can help Miss Black since she’s not well” Blim said before going back to the kitchens.
“Here, I can-”
“Remus John Lupin, if you try to take this basket away from me I swear I will hit you with it. And I’ll show you that I’m strong enough to do it!” you said, glaring at him.
“Sorry” he said, walking alongside you. “I just want to-”
“I know. You just want to help” you told him.
“Why do you think that’s such a bad thing?” he asked you, confused.
“I don’t, sorry. I just…” you sighed. “I’m just tired” you muttered.
“Well, I can walk you to your dorm and-”
“No” you interrupted him, grabbing the books from him. “Look, I don’t expect you to understand. You should just enjoy the rest of your day and go to Hogsmeade, I’m gonna go lay down for a while-”
“No, wait” he said, grabbing your hand and turning you around. “I’m not going to apologize for caring about you, okay? And if anyone understands it’s me” he told you. “I get it. I get how you’re feeling because it always happens to me after the full moon. And if I recall correctly, the last time you stayed all day in the Hospital Wing keeping me company, playing music and reading-”
“That’s different” you said, rolling your eyes.
“How so?”
“Because-” you stopped yourself before you could blurt out what you really wanted to say which was that you were in love with Remus and you would take all the time with him you could get. “Because it is” you said stubbornly.
“You are as bad as your brother when you try to make a valid point” he laughed.
“Take that back!” you gasped, offended.
“My point is, there’s nothing wrong with asking for help and there is nothing wrong with me worrying about you-”
“And my point is, you don’t have to do this just because I’m Sirius’ little sister who always gets sick and might drop dead at any moment! I’m sure you have better things to do-”
“Wait, is that why you think I worry about you?” he asked you once you reached the entrance of the Hufflepuff Common Room.
“Well… yes” you shrugged. “Isn’t it? That’s what everyone thinks. That I’m Sirius and Regulus’ fragile little sister so they all walk on eggshells around me. I get it-”
“No, love, you really don’t” Remus chuckled softly. “For someone so smart you can be very clueless, you know?”
“Really?” you asked, trying to sound annoyed instead of melting at the fact that he was smiling dreamily at you and he had called you ‘love’ again. “Then, enlighten me, Remus Lupin. Why are you here on a Saturday, worrying about me, instead of being at Hogsmeade?”
“Well, Miss Black” he said in a mocking tone before he grabbed the books back from you. “If you must know” he sighed. “I’m here because I hate the fact that my favorite person is the one who has to go through more pain than even I do and it’s not only once a month” he told you, taking you by surprise and making you look softly at him. “And whenever Sirius tells me that it’s been a rough night, or I can see how tired she is” he pointed out, looking at the dark circles under your eyes. “I just want to try and do whatever I can to make her feel better. Because that’s what she does for me every time I’m feeling sick” he smiled sweetly at you.
You couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach, and your heart, and you were certain it wasn’t because of any fever or anything like that. It was because of the guy standing in front of you.
“I’m- um… I’m your favorite person?” you asked, feeling your cheeks burn as a smile crept on your face. “As in… more than Sirius?”
Remus laughed, looking at you as if you were crazy. “Of course, more than Sirius. Why does everyone think he’s my favorite person?”
“Because you’re the only person he actually listens to” you informed him. “Even more than James” you said.
“Even if that’s true, which I don’t think it is. Yes, you, love, are my favorite person” he smiled. “And I hate seeing you in pain” he continued, getting closer to you. “That’s why I’m here. And I’m not going to apologize for worrying about you. Is that okay?”
“Well um…” you said, feeling your heart flutter and your cheeks burning even more. You couldn’t look away from his beautiful green eyes. “Y-you’re my favorite person too, Rem” you smiled shyly at him.
“I am?” he asked, smiling brightly, making your knees go weak and you managed to nod.
“Are you joking? Of course, you are” you told him, looking down shyly. “You do things like these. You stayed behind from a trip to Hogsmeade and… you read to me when I’m not feeling well. And I’m not really sure why when it’s you doing all this I don’t-” you sighed. “I don’t actually mind it” you said, feeling your cheeks burn. “I kind of… like it” you said, looking down.
Remus took a deep breath and cupped your cheek so you would look at him. It was now or never.
“Well, that’s good” he smiled. “Because I actually like reading to make you feel better” he said. “I like doing whatever I can to make you feel better” he said, starting to lean in. “And… if you let me, I’d like to keep doing that” he said, so close to you. “Because I’m in love with you” he blurted out, smiling at you. You felt your breath caught up in your throat and your knees felt weak. You could swear you would wake up at any moment.
“Y-you- really?” was the only thing you managed to stutter out.
“Are you seriously still going to question me?” he asked, smirking a little. You smiled back at him and felt butterflies in your entire body when he closed the gap between the two of you and pressed his lips against yours.
Kissing Remus Lupin was better than you had ever imagined. If you still had any doubts (not that you did) about being in love with him they were now completely gone. But as soon as you started to kiss him, you pushed him away.
“S-sorry” you said when you saw the worried look on his face. “I just… don’t want to get you sick” you muttered. Remus smiled and cupped your cheek again. “But... I’m in love with you too” you confessed
“Then, I’ll take my chances, love” he said, kissing you once more.
“Do you um-” you said shyly. “Would you like to come in and eat some of this” you said, showing him the basket. “And… m-maybe-”
“Would you like me to read to you, love?”
“Could you? I still have a small headache and I-” Remus cut you off, giving you a peck on the lips.
“I just said, I like doing whatever I can to make you feel better, love” he said, kissing your forehead and making you smile.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
“Hey, princess. We’re back” Regulus said quietly, opening the door to your dorm.
“How are you-? WHAT THE FUCK?!” Sirius whispered-yelled when he saw Remus lying with you on your bet and you, asleep, resting your head on his chest as he signaled for your brothers to be quiet.
Regulus was smirking more than he had ever in his life probably. Mostly because Sirius owed him 50 galleons. But also because his older brother was trying to kill his best friends with his own eyes.
“Sirius, you need to calm down-” he whispered to his older brother.
“Shut up, Reggie!” Sirius snapped, before looking back at Remus. “Outside, right now!” he said before he turned around and walked out of your dorm.
Remus rolled his eyes and tried his best to not wake you up as he untangled himself from you and stood up from the bed. He kissed your forehead before he followed your brother.
“Is he gonna kill me?” he asked Regulus.
“We both know that you would win in a fight, Lupin” Regulus chuckled, following the werewolf out where Sirius was already pacing back and forth.
“What the fuck is this, Lupin?”
“Siri, calm down” Regulus said, rolling his eyes.
“No! You said you would stay and keep an eye on her. Not jump into bed with her!”
“I didn’t jump into bed with her, Padfoot!” Remus said, glaring at him. “I was keeping her company and I offered to read to her and she fell asleep” he explained.
“Oh, really? That’s it?” Sirius asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“Y-yes” Remus said, looking away. Fuck.
“You’re lying!”
“Fine! We kissed” Remus admitted.
“You WHAT?!” Sirius snapped, trying to throw himself at Remus. “I’m gonna kill you-!”
“Alright, Sirius, that’s enough” Regulus said, pulling him back. “We both know you’re not going to kill Remus because a) he’s your best friend, b) if you do, I’m pretty sure our sister would kill you” he explained. “And c) Remus loves her and she loves him so stop with your bloody drama” he told his brother.
“They do not-” Sirius chuckled but then he noticed Remus blushing and looking away. “Wait… are you?” he asked. “You’re in love with her?”
“I am” Remus nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to-”
“Overreact like he’s doing right now?” Regulus smirked, earning a glare from his older brother.
“Well… yes” Remus said while Sirius still glared at him. “Look, I know she’s your sister and you two love her more than anybody else. But so do I and I promise I would never hurt her” he said, truthfully.
“Come on, Siri. You have to admit, they’re kind of perfect for each other” Regulus said, trying to help Remus.
“Fine” Sirius said, rolling his eyes. “But no kissing in front of me” he said, pointing his finger at Remus.
“Fair enough” Remus chuckled, looking at Regulus. “Anything you’d like to add?”
“Not really. It was about bloody time” he said, patting him on the shoulder. “You know she honestly feels better whenever you’re around, right?”
“Thanks, mate” Remus smiled as Sirius rolled his eyes and the three of them walked back into the room.
“Hey” you said, sitting up and smiling at your brothers. “You guys are back” you yawned.
“Yeah, just in time to have a chat with your new boyfriend” Sirius smirked mockingly as he sat on your bed.
“Sirius!” both Remus and Regulus scowled at him.
“Are you upset?” you asked a little nervous.
The only one that had known about you being in love with Remus was Regulus. And you were dreading the day that Sirius would find out. Sirius glared at Remus as he sat down next to you and wrapped his arm around you. He wasn’t. He knew Regulus was right. And he had noticed for a while. And as much as he hated to admit it, he had seen how you felt better whenever Remus was around. And how he always felt better whenever you were around on the day after the full moon.
“No, princess” Sirius said, looking back at you. “I’m…” he sighed. “I’m really happy for you two” he admitted.
“Really?” you smiled a little brighter.
“Yes” he said, rolling his eyes. “But no kissing in front of me!” he repeated, making Regulus laugh. “And don’t think that because of this you’re coming on the full moons-”
“Yes, I second that” Remus said, raising his hand, making eye contact with Sirius, and making you roll your eyes a little.
“Fine” you told them. “But I get to be there the day after” you insisted.
“Only if you’re feeling well that day” Sirius told you.
“Deal” you said, shaking his hand. Remus pulled you closer, kissing your forehead as you smiled at your brothers. “So… what did you guys bring me from Hogsmeade?”
The End
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
[Part 1]
A/N: ahh xD I hope you guys liked it! please let me know what you think :)
#marauders#marauders imagine#remus lupin#sirius black#regulus black#remus lupin imagine#sirius black imagine#regulus black imagine#remus lupin x reader#sirius black x sister!reader#regulus black x sister!reader#remus lupin oneshot#sirius black oneshot#regulus black oneshot
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I'll Take Care of Her (Another Level Extra)
Summary
He couldn’t stop the small grin from forming now.
“She’s my favorite person,” he admitted proudly. “My best friend. And- she’s- I love her. More than I thought I could love someone, honestly. She’s special. I think- I’m sure you already knew that, though. You fuckin raised her. Made her the stubborn menace that she is. And I’m grateful.”
Gojo has visited Yuzuki's grave once without Rinko
Set on Rinko's birthday, which is why he was running late in Trust and Traditions.
If you haven't already, you can read Another Level on AO3 💕
I'll Take Care of Her
2018
Shuffling uncomfortably, he let out a heavy sigh as he placed the small container down.
“I’m, uh, s’not homemade, but-” he cut off, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think you’d want something I tried to make, honestly. Probably wouldn’t be edible-”
Like it fucking mattered to a dead person.
He felt awkward.
He’d never actually visited a grave before.
Sure, he knew what he was supposed to do, but he had no fucking idea what to say. Or how to say it.
Removing his glasses and tucking them in his shirt pocket, he let out another deep sigh before kneeling down and staring at the stone in front of him.
“Anyway,” he drawled, clearing his throat. “I know she usually brings some, and- kinda partially my fault she isn’t here today. So, I figured- yeah.”
He rubbed his eyes for a moment, still feeling like a dumbass, as he wondered what the hell he was thinking coming here.
“Fuck,” he muttered, blinking slowly as he forced himself to stay put. “Just gotta fuckin- spit it out.”
Taking another breath, he stared at the name, wondering what the woman would think, seeing him like this. Wondering if she’d ever even known he existed. He had no idea if Rinko ever even mentioned him to her mother beyond maybe saying he was who recommended her Grade 1 promotion.
“I- I know I don’t deserve her,” he finally said, ticking his jaw to the side. “In any way. I don’t deserve her friendship or her love. Not after everything I’ve put her through. But- she’s giving me that chance to try and- I don’t even know what she expects of me, honestly. ‘Cept maybe just to be a dumbass. She’s right, too. Usually is. She’s- from what I’ve heard about you, she’s a lot like you. Forgiving. A bigger heart than someone in our world has any right to have, honestly. Something she likely got from you. Sure as hell didn’t get it from that old bastard.”
Taking another breath, he let his head fall for just a moment.
“I’m- I never thought I’d meet someone who- cared about me the way she does,” he whispered, running his hand through his hair again. “Something else I think I have you to thank for. I’ve- I’ve put her through a lot of bullshit over the years. She’s- she’s definitely loved me through them. Even if- even if she doesn’t tell me that’s why she’s stuck around. It took me too long to- realize that about her. That she- still sees any good in me at all. She’s- fucking incredible. Strong. Stronger than she thinks she is. More- more important than she thinks she is, too.”
He couldn’t stop the small grin from forming now.
“She’s my favorite person,” he admitted proudly. “My best friend. And- she’s- I love her. More than I thought I could love someone, honestly. Gonna- I wanna spend the rest of my life with her. Forever, really. I wanna spend forever with her. And I’m gonna ask her eventually. Once I know she’ll believe me when I ask. But- thank you. For- her. For being the reason she’s someone I- sure as hell don’t deserve, but who loves me anyway. Deciding to stay by my side even after- everything I’ve done. She’s special. I think- I’m sure you already knew that, though. You fuckin raised her. Made her the stubborn menace that she is. And I’m grateful.”
The grin on his face grew a tiny bit as he stood again, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“You did a really fucking good job with her,” he told the stone. “Wish- wish I coulda met you. You must’ve been a real menace yourself if she’s any indication. But- yeah. Thank you for her. I’ll- she doesn’t need me to, not really. But I’ll take care of her. Love her. In every way I can. In every way she’ll let me.”
He did a quick once over, making sure he’d picked everything up before tapping the stone lightly.
“I’ll take care of her.”
#gojo satoru x original female character#gojo satoru fanfic#gojo fanfic#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#jujutsu gojo#another level#another level extras#goinko fluff#gojo and rinko#gojo is rinko's biggest simp and we love it
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\For theme/
Gem is PANICKING not only did she score a date with the most feared empress in the world aka False she also leaned said empress is a massive dork who loves birds. And she was currently running around the grimlands castle trying to figure out what to do, what to wear, where she’ll be going there’s to much to decide!?
Now Fwhip and Sausage love their little sister and as entertaining as it was to see her panicking about going on a date with a woman who admittedly isn’t as terrifying as her reputation makes her out to be anyway. They can see this is going no where fast so they called in the big guns. Tango and Mumbo arrived to see gem collapsed over a pile of clothing letting out sad caribou noises and realized they have a lot of work ahead of them…
Look it’s not False’s fault she got a reputation as a warrior queen who has no time for shenanigans that’s what happens when you live in a place that’s constantly filled with thunderstorms and territorial conflicts! But that’s what she signed up for after winning the crown from trial by combat the last thing she expected was to land a date with the world’s foremost expert on jewel and wither magic! She was freaking out what did she even see in her she was buff as hell-I mean she proved she can bend solid netherite with her bare hands-due to her line of work, she towers over the woman, and that’s not even including the fact she’s got an aviary of the rarest and deadliest birds on the planet at her beck and call!
So cue her slumping in her throne brooding over this issue while her best friends Grian and Xisuma watch this going on before giving a shared look of “time to call in the big guns”. Said big guns being Cleo who walked in with the other two seeing false frantically tossing weapons behind her looking like she was trying to choose the perfect one for gem….the three had a very busy week ahead of them to get h this bird brain under control.
Now Tango and Mumbo know they were gonna be in for a challenge but their starting to believe Gem is just oblivious to a fault as she starts rambling over the possible what ifs of the date going wrong it’s a miracle she hasn’t given herself a heart attack with all this stress. While Cleo has had to tell False maybe giving Gem a greatsword the size of two Xisuma’s to Gem as a first date gift maybe not the best idea, or taking her to a battle pit to see people beat the hell out of each other in the Royal viewing box would be a tad over the top. It’s fine to the point both sides met in secret to agree these two either date now or it’s never gonna happen.
Little did they know while they were meeting both Gem and False met up and started said date with lord and lots of tension in the air until false saw a pair of doves land on Gem’s antlers and giggled…for there it was hook, line, and sinker. As the date went on they went to all sorts of places in False’s domain! The royal fighting arena where gem sat on False’s leg-seriously how does a woman become 9ft tall on a diet like hers?!-in the Royal viewing box, showed Gem her empire’s street food, she even got to visit its grand archive which nearly made Gem faint on the spot….yeah needless to say this wasn’t gonna be a one time deal.
The thing is, they're both used to the things they love about each other being turn offs for other people.
False isn't dainty and feminine enough. She's tall and she's strong and she's a little awkward and unsure of herself. Gem is too assertive and smart, she knows what she wants and that scares most suitors away. Not that Gem has a problem with that - definitely not.
And as False rambled about doves, the awkwardness melted away. It felt like both of them were taking a breath of fresh air for the first time. For once, their supposed 'flaws' were something to be celebrated and loved. They felt like kids again, holding hands as False led Gem down the back alleys of her kingdom.
Sure, they got a bit of a scolding when they got back. fWhip and Sausage were freaking out, what if their sister got hurt?! Whilst it's been a long time since Cleo has managed to lose False entirely. But when they finally find the pair - red faced and grinning - they know they're a perfect match.
#hermitshipping#empiresshipping#ask#false tag#gem tag#xisuma tag#zombiecleo tag#mumbo tag#grian tag#fwhip tag#sausage tag#falsegemini#mod 🎀#weekly theme: first dates
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Would love your director's commentary on the Ruby and Blake locker scene in Twilight AU -- particularly why you wanted to use Ruby to triangulate the bees in that moment, the ways Ruby maybe fails her intended mission but doesn't push, and how Blake's psyche filters all of that.
this is more or less a deep cut for me since i forget literally everything the second i post it SDLKJHG but i dug out the outlines and reread the scene and i will do my best. actually here is the paragraph of my outlines pertaining to that scene:
scene where ruby tells blake to be kind to yang. happens in the hall at school, by blake’s locker. blake asks if ruby is going to threaten her, and ruby is of course like no absolutely not. i don’t want to do that, yang wouldn’t want me to do that, and i wouldn’t hurt you anyway as you well know. blake does know. ruby just says that yang is lonely. she has been lonely for a very long time. she was before they were turned, she has been since she transitioned. part of it is the nature of their existence, and part of it is just who yang is. but she’s been better lately, since blake showed up, and ruby would just…like her to keep getting better. ruby says she knows that’s a lot to put on blake, and of course blake isn’t Responsible for it all. ruby just mostly wanted to say that she really likes having blake around, and she knows yang likes it more than she’ll admit—at least to ruby—and she figured blake should know.
so here there is obviously some stuff that did not make it explicitly into the scene but informed my writing of it. "ruby tells blake to be kind to yang" is not dialogue that actually occurs in the fic, but is very much ruby's intention in the conversation—to make sure blake understands the gravity of yang's feelings for her and basically just ask her to be gentle. ruby is the one having this conversation because yang is not in a place in this fic at this point to ask for what she needs herself.
and i just wanted to have a scene stressing the importance of ruby and yang's relationship, and since this fic was pretty tightly planned, and because it felt like true twilight fashion, it made sense to have that scene be bees related in some fashion. since ruby was basically the only person yang had for fifty years, i liked the idea of ruby trying to take care of yang in this arena.
in terms of why ruby leaves things confused, with blake thinking that she has been handed responsibility of yang's happiness in its entirety, behind the scenes it's because ruby doesn't fully understand the significance of yang's eyes. she also doesn't fully understand that, to blake, Everything In The Universe Is Blake's Fault Forever, and that blake is therefore going to spiral about this later.
some of the dialogue mentioned in the outline got assigned to blake instead of ruby in the final draft; that happens all the time because my outlines are usually more melodramatic and about getting the Feeling of the dialogue across than anything. figuring out what actually flows in a scene happens later.
another interesting note is that i open the outline with the setting, which is Not typical of me but is maybe typical of this fic? since it's based on the first twilight movie, which, for whatever else you might say about it, has a very strong sense of place with the trees and the rain and the green-blue coloring. i wrote this fic in general with a lot more attention to that sort of thing than i usually do (as you may notice that all of milf blake au occurs in murkily described apartments and nondescript parks and whatnot). unrelated to your line of questions but i think it's neat.
i honestly don't remember too much else (and some of this is me speculating on past me's intentions) but i hope this was interesting! twilight au my beloved i miss milf vampire raven every day
#twilight au#professorspork#answered#thank you for the ask!#if anyone else has scenes or even just plot points writing decisions whatever they'd like to hear about it shoot me an ask!#i will happily talk about slay-va au as well i know u guys are out there suffering through the drought at the moment
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Can you do a continuation of “Half Light” where something/someone spooks laudna so she disappears and Imogen starts calling out for Laudna to come back, she’s safe, Imogen won’t let anything hurt her and just all around concerned she might not be able to find laudna (but she does of course)
Pike has trouble pulling them out.
It’s a huge, difficult spell, and Imogen can’t logically fault her for struggling with it, but she can’t help the frustration bubbling under her skin. Try to find another spot, Pike had said. Can you get back to where you started?
They could, at least in theory, but it would take more of the precious time that they don’t have to gamble with, and Imogen’s chest feels as tight as her ever-present grip on Laudna’s hand as they walk.
It’s when they reach the tunnel under the cabin that Imogen’s anxiety reaches its boiling point. It’s silly, but she’s genuinely afraid to let go of Laudna.
“Get in front of me,” she urges Laudna as their friends enter the tunnel one by one in front of them. Laudna only stares at the dark passage.
“I don’t want to go back there,” Laudna whispers. “The townsfolk, the fire. It’s real. Or…it feels real. I don’t know.”
“I know,” Imogen says, and she cups Laudna’s cheek to give her the most encouraging smile she could muster through the bolt of rage that courses through her. How dare those people hurt her. How are they torment her here, too. “Don’t worry; I’ll be right behind you,” she continues. “They should be gone now. We even put the fire out.”
Laudna nods and squeezes Imogen’s hand one more time before letting go and entering the tunnel. Imogen goes in after her, steadily keeping her eyes locked onto Laudna’s form as they climb. She won’t disappear, she tells herself. She’s right here. She’s going to make it out. It won’t be long once we leave the cabin.
But Imogen should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. It never is, is it?
The awful ghostly voices pick up again as they reemerge into the cabin. There’s no fire yet, but the taunting and jeering are enough to stop Laudna in her tracks.
“Come on,” Chetney calls from the doorway. “We can miss them if we get going.”
Laudna still doesn’t move, and Imogen can’t quite tell through the shifting wisps of her form, but it looks like she’s shaking.
Imogen tries to lay a hand on Laudna’s shoulder, but Laudna jumps away from her touch and whirls around. Dark, inky tears fall from her eyes and float away from her face.
“You lied,” she murmurs, and the simple words punch Imogen in the gut. “They’re coming for me.”
“No,” Imogen says. “No, I didn’t lie; I didn’t know they’d be back, I swear.” She reaches out for Laudna’s hand again, but Laudna takes another step away from her, and tears fill her eyes again. “I’m sorry, Laudna. I didn’t know. We need to get out of here now. You can be mad later, just—”
Imogen can’t finish her thought before Laudna just…vanishes. Her form flickers once, face screwed up in fear and distrust, and then she’s gone.
“Laudna!” Imogen cries. “Laudna, wait, come back! I’m sorry!”
“What happened?” “What’s going on?”
Imogen can’t process her friends’ questions as they look back through the door. She can’t think, she can’t hear; all she can do is let a wave of guilt crash over her. She lost Laudna again. In this place. This vast, horrible nightmare where nothing is real and where Laudna is fading away.
What if she can’t find her again?
She pushes past her friends, screaming Laudna’s name into the odd landscape around them. She’ll search it all if she has to. Laudna has to be here somewhere.
Imogen scrambles through the rocks and trees, desperately searching for some trace of Laudna. She faintly registers the others looking, too, and Fearne putting out the new fire before it has a chance to grow.
Laudna isn’t here. Deeper in this realm, maybe—maybe even deeper than the Sun Tree—but she’s not here. Not in any capacity with which she could be found, anyway.
Imogen stumbles deeper into the woods, peering behind every tree, her voice hoarse and her legs weak. She’s lost sight of her friends. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter until she finds Laudna.
But she can’t, can she? This is Laudna’s head. Her memories, her nightmares. As little power as she has to escape it on her own, she has more than enough to keep hidden in her own mind. If she isn’t already gone for good.
Imogen collapses to her knees in the loam and curls in on herself, balling her fists on the ground as the sobs tear through her one after another.
“I’m sorry,” she cries. “I’m so sorry; this is all my fault. I just wanted to keep you safe. All I ever wanted was to keep you safe. And I just keep fucking up.” She rests her forehead against the cool ground, repeating over and over as she’s wracked with shaking and tears: “I love you. I’m sorry. Please come back. I love you, Laudna. I love you. Please don’t leave me again. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She doesn’t notice the sad, scared eyes watching her from just out of her line of sight. She doesn’t know that Laudna has heard her every word, doesn’t know that she’s finally understanding that Imogen isn’t going to leave without her, not even if it kills her. And even in this state, so overwhelmed with fear that she’s barely clung to who she is, Laudna can’t let Imogen die. She could never.
“I’m here,” Laudna says quietly, tentatively stepping into the open. Tears still streak her face, but they’ve calmed. She seems more lucid now.
Imogen’s breath catches at the sound of Laudna’s voice, and she looks up slowly, terrified of spooking her again.
“Laudna,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry; you gotta believe me. I would never hurt you, not on purpose. Never.”
“I know,” Laudna whispers back. “I know. I don’t know why I—I don’t know what keeps coming over me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Imogen says. “You’re still here. We just…we have to hurry. I won’t make any more promises. I don’t know what’s out there. I don’t know how it works. But we’re almost back. We can make it.”
“We can make it,” Laudna repeats with a solemn nod. Imogen can see her steeling herself, still so scared to move through this landscape but prepared to try. She’ll remind Laudna of how brave she is when they get back.
Laudna allows Imogen to take her hand again, and to everyone’s relief, they find their way back to the others quickly. Not long now, Imogen reminds herself with a glance at Laudna. Not long now, and then they’ll be in a position to really help Laudna. In the living world.
They wake up back in Pike’s living room. For a moment, Laudna’s body remains still, and Imogen is terrified it didn’t work. But then she draws a breath and her eyes open slowly, blearily, and Imogen cries with relief.
The hard part is over. Laudna is alive. They’ll work through anything she needs, but they have time because she’s alive. The ghosts can’t get her here. Nobody can change what happened, but here she’s loved, and that’s enough. It has to be enough.
#critical role#imogen temult#laudna#imodna#my writing#PHEW this was a lot#i know it’s a little different from what you asked for but i hope you like it!
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split in half
This is written in a different tense than I usually write in. Why? I don't know. I didn't notice until I was done writing it. I tried writing something in first person about a month ago and now I don't know how to write in past tense anymore. I don't know how those things relate, but there you have it.
Anyway, I've had this idea rattling around inside my brain for a very long time now, and I've had a few lines of the dialogue written out, but I finally sat down and finished it!
wc: ~800
ao3
Lily has just turned out the light when she hears someone knocking on her door. She sighs, but doesn’t move to sit up or turn the light back on.
“Come in!” She hears the door opening and waits for whoever it is to say something. After a long stretch of silence, she sits up. “I figured it was Mary, but now I don’t think so.” She reaches for her wand and taps on the lantern on her bedside table.
It’s not Mary.
It’s James.
“You know how to get up here too?”
“Too?” His mouth hardly moves with the word. His arms are hanging limply at his sides, and he looks a bit slack-jawed. His eyes are wide, his cheeks are flushed, his tie is missing, but given the late hour, that’s not surprising. His general appearance is disheveled though, tie or no tie.
“Yeah, your mates are always coming up here.” She says, fiddling with the hemline of the blanket she still has covering her lap. “Though, I’m not complaining. Remus brought me chocolate last time, and Sirius has let me borrow a few records.”
“You hang out with my friends a lot?” His expression hasn’t changed yet, and his mouth still isn’t moving enough. He came here for a reason. He’s just shuffling through this first part of the conversation. Lily’s stomach experiences a bit of a flutter.
“I suppose,” She shrugged. “Are you gonna tell me how you got up here? They won’t.”
“You fancy me.”
Silence.
“Ah.” Her stomach is hosting a swarm of butterflies now. Those bastards, by which she means James’s friends, she can’t fault the butterflies. “They told you that, did they? I asked them not to.”
“They’re my mates, of course they told me.”
“Alright, well, I didn’t really want you to know.”
“I broke up with my girlfriend.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“For me?” It sounds juvenile, but the question is a knee-jerk, wrenched out of her without her permission.
James tilts his head, his glasses slipping down his nose just a fraction. “You have to know how I’ve felt about you all these years.” He lifts his hand to push his glasses back into place.
“Do I?” She shakes her head, worrying the blanket in her hands and pressing it into her lap. “I almost kissed you not too long ago. And you’ve sort of been avoiding me since then. And then you got a girlfriend. None of that really instilled me with confidence.”
His hand shoots to his hair now. “I misread- I was being an idiot.”
“When did you break up with her?”
“About ten minutes ago.”
“Right.” Lily’s butterflies are a bit erratic. A bit too much.
“Lily, do you think that I can-“
“James,” Lily interrupts him, pressing her lips together for a second to stop the butterflies from flooding the room. Ten minutes ago is a bit sudden, a bit deliberate. “Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about this right now. It’s late and a lot has just happened. Maybe we should do this later.”
She needs time to think, to rethink, to make sure that she’s heard him right, that she understands everything that’s just been said. She needs time and space to quiet her swarm and tame her racing heart.
“Alright.” He agrees quickly, and she knew that he would. He looks unsure though and so she almost takes it back. Almost.
“Alright.” She nods back at him and then reaches for her wand. She twirls it in her hand. “I’m going to go back to bed now.”
Another stretch of silence.
Lily can’t look at him anymore, so she lays back down.
She feels him move across the room, though he doesn’t make a sound. Lily pulls the blanket up under her chin, but she doesn’t turn out the light yet. She’ll wait until he leaves.
There’s more silence. An infinite, vast, stretch of silence where Lily is certain that he can hear her heart pounding in her chest. Maybe he can even hear her blood pumping loudly in her ears.
And then he breaks the silence.
“Is it later enough yet?” He asks, his voice quiet and pleading.
Lily freezes. Her breath caught in the middle of an inhale, and everything is quiet and still for just a moment. A brief moment where everything becomes very clear.
What exactly is she waiting for?
What is going to be different tomorrow or in a few days?
Nothing.
She throws the blanket aside as she sits up. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”
James catches her in his arms, and they’re entirely tangled up before their lips even find each other.
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dair + emergency
Dair + Emergency
Every doctor, nurse, and staff person in this ER is dodging Blair’s eye. Typical. It’s not her fault they’re all grossly incompetent.
It’s just as well, if the previous ten briefings she’s had to shake down these people for are any indication, they won’t have anything useful to tell her anyway.
She makes herself pace the length of the waiting area again, if only to calm herself down a little before heading back into the room.
“Blair-bear!”
Her head jerks up at the nickname, and she immediately spots her father and his husband, the latter holding a drink carrier laden with to-go cups.
“We brought hot chocolate!” Roman says, and Blair swears it’s only twenty percent forcibly cheerful. He’s a talent, Roman is.
“How’s the patient?” Harold asks, coming in to kiss Blair on the cheek as Roman hands her one of their cups.
“Fine, I guess,” she sighs down at the plastic coffee lid. “Apparently their radiology department is so very backed up, and because he ‘isn’t critical,’ he’s at the end of the waiting list. So far, all they’ve done is stick him in a room and dose him with painkillers, which any one who reads the New Yorker will tell you is precisely what’s wrong with our medical system.”
Her father blinks at her, taken aback, and so she forces herself to take a breath, and then a sip of the hot chocolate. Oh, Maison, her steadfast friend. Her father hasn’t seen much of her prickly, ranting, bitchy side—by design—but her patience is looking pretty threadbare at the moment. Roman for his part simply looks bemused.
“We just feel awful,” Roman offers, voice dripping with sympathy—Blair knows him well enough now to know its genuine—probably why he did so well as a model in his day. Genuity is difficult to fake, and for a Frenchman, impossible. “Wollman Rink does seem cursed for us, no?”
Blair grimaces around the lid of her cup, but when she looks Roman’s eyes are only sparkling with amusement. He’s too good for her. The same could be said about Dan too. At least this fall wasn’t her fault. It was entirely due to that group of twelve-year-olds trying to do their own Moulin Rouge routine, and poor Dan was too inexperienced a skater to get out of their way in time.
“Some twisted rite of passage,” Blair agrees grimly, making Roman laugh, and Harold smile indulgently, patting her on the shoulder.
She takes another sip of the cocoa, its warmth and richness oddly fortifying. “Thank you,” she says sincerely, gesturing with the cup in her hand. “But you don’t have to stay.”
“Are you sure?” her father checks, concerned.
“It’s fine,” she reassures him. “You’re only in the city for a few more days, you shouldn’t waste one hanging out in the emergency room.”
“We’ve been here plenty of times before, you know.”
Blair smiles, rolling her eyes. “I know. But we’ll be fine, really.” Plus, chances are she’ll have to dress down another George Clooney ER wannabe in the next hour, and she doesn’t really want her dads to see it. It would hardly be in the spirit of the season.
“Okay,” Harold says reluctantly, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek again. “Give Daniel our best, okay?”
“Yes,” Roman adds, throwing an arm around her shoulders with a side-hug as he hands over the drink tray. “Tell Handsome Dan get well soon from us.”
Blair shakes her head, smiling. “I’ll do that.”
She watches her dads round the corner, then takes another deep breath, forcing her shoulder down. Then, she takes one more fortifying sip of cocoa before putting her drink back in the carrier, and walking down the hall, slipping into the room where they’d been holding Dan since their second hour here.
Dan’s face lights up the second he sees her. “Waldorf!”
She makes straight for him, dropping a kiss on top of his head, trying not to focus too much on the temporary splint they have his leg in. “How are you feeling?”
“Oh me?” he slurs, “I’m great.” He blinks blearily up at her, his eyes, normally so sharp, are distant, unfocused, like there’s a light film over them. “You’re pretty.”
“Oh, thank you, Humphrey.” She spares a glance at the tray in her hand, and decides hot liquids are probably counterproductive to this situation, so she turns to set them on the counter far out of Dan’s reach. He watches her the whole time, a dazed smile on his face, so far gone.
“Sorry you’re stuck here,” she sighs, carding a hand through his hair. He bumps his head eagerly into her touch, like a cat, or either of her father’s pets when they’re drunk on attention. “I tried seeing if we could get you an x-ray or even just a consult, but apparently the holidays are rife with way more severe casualties.”
Dan gazes up at her, giving no cue if anything she just said registered. “Marry me,” he says.
She freezes, gaping at him in confusion. “What?”
“Marry me,” he repeats, dopey grin on his face, yet completely sincere.
Blair swallows, pressing her lips tightly together. She should not laugh at him, not in this state. “We’re already married, kitten. For over a year now.”
Dan’s eyes flash with recognition, or happiness, or opiates, but she’s again not sure if he actually heard her.
“You’re pretty,” he repeats. So…maybe?
“Oh, thank you,” Blair twists one of his curls around her finger. “So are you.”
He has the audacity to blush, teeth digging into his lower lip as he grins. Then, after a beat, his expression turns so very earnest again, rife with cloudy-eyed sincerity. “Marry me.”
“Sorry,” Blair teases, holding up her left hand to show her ring, unable to help herself. “I’m taken.”
Dan’s face falls, eyes widening and lips pouting, the textbook definition of pitiful.
It’s going to be a long day.
One word prompts
#another read more since this one also got a little long. whoopsies.#dair#blair waldorf#dan humphrey#harold waldorf#roman garrel#ty for sending stars m'love#some hospital fic silliness#sometimes a prompt that implies angst produces fluff#and a prompt that implies fluff produces angst#such is my way *throws confetti*#poor daniel. never stood a chance on those ice skates#a thing about me is that i love blair's friendships with her stepdads#cyrus and roman are both like 'i see you devious girl. and i love you.'#*prompts#insistonyourcupofstars#hospital fic#there's some humorous illustration of painkillers so#tw drug mention
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Fictional Character Ask: Cinderella
For @ariel-seagull-wings
Favorite Thing About Them: It varies from version to version, since her personality is a little different in each retelling, but most common among all is the fact that she never lets her hard life make her bitter or destroy her kindness. Even in versions where she is bitter and not always kind (for example, Leslie Caron's The Glass Slipper), there's still a clear spark of warmth and goodness within her that her stepfamily can't extinguish and which is eventually rewarded.
Least Favorite Thing About Them: This isn’t her fault, of course, but the fact that in most versions she’s beautiful while her stepsisters are ugly or plain, implicitly linking beauty with goodness and worth. This probably explains why so many modern retellings either make the stepsisters beautiful too or give one of them a redemption arc. The latter choice fits with Perrault’s comment that the younger sister was less bad than the older one anyway.
Three Things I Have in Common With Them:
*I love pretty clothes.
*Like Disney’s Cinderella, I love animals.
*Like most versions of her, I always try to be kind.
Three Things I Don’t Have in Common With Them:
*I’ve never been abused or treated like a slave.
*I don’t have small feet.
*I’m not very good at housework (not that Cinderella is naturally good at it, per se, she’s just had plenty of forced practice).
Favorite Line:
This passage from the Disney version:
Oh, that clock! Old killjoy. I hear you. “Come on, get up,” you say, “Time to start another day.” Even he orders me around. Well, there’s one thing. They can’t order me to stop dreaming. And perhaps someday… (sings)
….THE DREAMS THAT I WISH WILL COME TRUE.
This is an excellent quote to cite whenever anyone claims (either as praise or as a criticism) that Cinderella is always passive and “never complains." Here she’s unabashedly complaining and annoyed at being jarred out of her dreams and forced to start another day of hard work and insults from her stepfamily. But at the end, we find the real key to her character: the thing that helps her survive and saves her from becoming hard and bitter. It’s that she never gives up hope.
And from the 1997 version of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, when she prays to her father's spirit in the garden after the Stepmother insults her following the ball:
“Father, I know I promised that I’d never leave here, but after tonight, I don’t see how I can stay. If you only knew how she’s changed, you’d understand. I deserve better, Father. I deserve to be loved. And that’s what I found out tonight, and that’s all that really matters.”
BROTP: Her Fairy Godmother, and in the Disney version the mice and birds.
OTP: The Prince.
NOTP: Her Stepmother, or. in the case of the opera La Cenerentola, her stepfather Don Magnifico.
Random Headcanon: As a princess and later a queen, she’ll always respect her servants, employees and subjects as equals to herself, and be renowned for her fair, generous treatment of them. She’ll also be a particular advocate for orphans and other children in need.
Unpopular Opinion: The Cinderella of the Disney version and other traditional retellings deserves all the defense in the world; to disparage her as a weakling for “letting” her stepfamily abuse her and being “helpless” without her Fairy Godmother is victim-blaming. That said, retellings like Three Wishes for Cinderella, Ella Enchanted, Ever After, Cinder, Mechanica, et al, that feature a feistier, less conventionally sweet and more proactive Cinderella are welcome too. There’s room for both types of Cinderella, just like there’s room for both types of women in the real world.
Song I Associate With Them:
Disney's classic, "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes."
youtube
"In My Own Little Corner" from Rodgers and Hammerstein's musical. (Actually I'm tempted to list every song from Rodgers and Hammerstein's score.)
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“Non piú mesta accanto al fuoco” (”No longer sad beside the fire”) – her triumphant final aria from La Cenerentola.
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The title song from the 1935 Betty Boop cartoon Poor Cinderella:
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Favorite Pictures of Them:
This illustration by Edmund Dulac:
This illustration by Arthur Rackham:
This illustration of the Grimms' Aschenputtel by Elen Abbot:
Disney's Cinderella:
Yanina Zhejmo in the 1947 Russian film version:
Leslie Caron's scrappy gamine Ella from 1955's The Glass Slipper:
This illustration by Kinuko Craft:
Brandy Norwood's 1997 Rodgers and Hammerstein Cinderella, with Whitney Houston as the Fairy Godmother:
Laura Osnes in the Broadway production of Rodgers and Hammerstein's musical, 2013:
Elina Garanca in the opera La Cenerentola, 2009:
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Dragon Ball Super 043
Hey, shut up! There’s a baby!
So Goku isn’t feeling well lately. He’s got no appetite, and when he flies, he has difficulty steering, which sounds scary as hell. Chi-Chi suggests he go consult King Kai, but Goku’s Instant Transmission power doesn’t work very well either. I mean, that could lead to some pretty horrifying scenarios, now that I think of it. Like, Cronenburg movie horrifying, let’s leave it at that. Fortunately, he just keeps teleporting to the wrong places until he finally ends up where he wants to go.
King Kai diagnoses Goku with “Delayed Onset Energy Disorder”, which is just a Dragon Ball Z version of Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness. That’s a real-world condition where you get sore after overdoing it at the gym. People used to think this was caused by a buildup of lactic acid in the muscles, but this was later proven to be false. Anyway, that Bluper Kaio-ken Goku used against Hit in Episode 39 and 40 was probably what caused it, and now Goku cant’ control his ki. I’m assuming the “Delayed Onset” part was just to explain why this didn’t bother him during Episodes 41 and 42. King Kai recommends Goku rest until he’s back to normal, except he still has to teleport back home, so that’s kind of a problem, right?
So yeah, he makes it home, but he also crashes through the whole house, so the Son family has to crash at Gohan and Videl’s house.
But Gohan’s not at home at the moment, because he and Videl are having dinner with some academic big shots about some future career thing. I can’t fault Toriyama/Toei/Shueisha for not being too interested in the details of Gohan’s scientific career. I mean, that’s not what the show is about, and I’m not sure it’s worth the trouble of explaining how this works in Dragon World. Maybe this is exactly how it works in the real world, and I just never found out because I settled for a Bachelor’s Degree.
My point is that it’s kind of cheap to just have Gohan in these vague conferences, or having meals with vague characters who talk about how “impressive” his work has been without ever explaining what he’s doing. I’m pretty sure Dragon Ball Super: Super Hero was the first time they confirmed that Gohan is a professional biologist, and that movie came out in 2022. I mean, I think that was what everyone had guessed, but in 2016, I couldn’t tell you for certain whether he had finished college or grad school, or if he was already working in the private sector.
Anyway, he had to skip the Destroyer Invitational Tournament because of an important meeting he had to go to that same day, and this episode suggest that his attendance is paying off. He’s supposed to get this big job offer soon, and Videl supplying an autographed picture of Mr. Satan doesn’t hurt either.
Oh, and Gohan’s let hand looks like ass in this scene. We’re through the worst of Dragon Ball Super’s slipshod visuals, but it never ceases to amaze me how often I find off-model stuff without even trying. We’re 43 episodes into this thing and they’re still finding their level.
The point of this scene is that Goku is calling to let Gohan know they’re at his house and why. And since Gohan repeats everything Goku says for exposition, he gets overheard by the Pilaf Gang, who are just... here at this restaurant for no apparent reason.
I miss my dad a lot.
Anyway, Piccolo’s been at the house looking after Pan, and he doesn’t trust Chi-Chi and Goku to handle things without him, so he sticks around. Later, Piccolo takes the baby and her sick grandpa up to the roof to hang out, because Piccolo.
Pan is fascinated by the stars, and Goku offers to fly her up for a closer look when he’s feeling better, but for now he promises her that she’ll become a Super Saiyan someday and see them for herself. Then she calls him “da-da” which bothers him because he’s “grampa”, but Pan can’t say that yet, I guess.
Outside, Pilaf has this whole scheme lined up, but I honestly don’t understand any of it. Basically they want to get the others away from the house so they can beat up Goku with their new robot suit. Since Goku’s powerless, they figure this is their best chance to finish him. I’ll be honest, I’ve completely lost the plot with the Pilaf Gang. Trust me, I’ve been paying attention here. Part of the reason I wanted to re-watch this show was to try to get a handle on what they were doing, but it’s no good. None of this makes any sense.
Okay, so their last appearance before Dragon Ball Super was in the filler arc at the end of Dragon Ball. It’s been roughly twenty-five years since then. Now they show up in the Battle of Gods arc as children. The movie explained that they once used the Dragon Balls to make themselves younger, but DBS never bothers with any of that. So if you’re going in cold, and Dragon Ball Super is the only one you’ve warched, then all you know for sure is that these nutty kids really want Dragon Balls and they seem to want to murder Goku for no apparent reason.
Anyway, their plan goes haywire for some reason. I think it’s because they saw people leaving the house to search for Pan. As it turns out, Pan came to them, and in their haste to bug out, Mai brought Pan aboard. Pilaf wants her to toss the baby out, because he won’t do it himself. In his ranting and raving, he damages the controls, which causes their robot to shoot straight up into space.
Then Pan busts out with all the Pilaf Gang hanging on to her foot for dear life.
She can finally see the stars, up close, although I suppose the view isn’t much different. Then she remembers all her stuff is back home, so she flies back.
The Pilaf Gang gets deposited in a tree, or something.
Goku and the others return from their search to find Pan sleeping on the couch like nothing happened at all. What a li’l stinker.
Then Gohan and Videl come home and explain that they offered Gohan the job, but he turned it down because the hours were too much. Also, his daugther is a super-strong flying baby, so that complicates things. Pan starts saying “grampa” to Goku, so she learned a new word. And that’s basically it.
Honestly, as a story, this really didn’t go anywhere. Goku gets over his DOED by the next episode, and while this was a cute outing for Pan, I’m not sure what the point of it was. They might have done more with the Gohan plot, since he’s the only character who made any sort of decision, but I’m not sure how that could work. I’m not eager for a five minute scene where Gohan and Videl discuss the pro’s and con’s of taking some new job.
Well, at least the baby’s cute.
#dragon ball#dragon ball super#2023dbapocryphaliveblog#goku#king kai#gohan#videl#goten#chi chi#son pan#pan#piccolo#vegeta#bulma#emperor pilaf#mai#shu
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PRNDL
Fandom: The Society
Ship: Harry/Allie
Summary: Its been three years of fugitive and somehow Allie has managed to hide the fact that she can't drive... until now. Day seven of Miya and Mia's Tickletober: playtime!
Allie was only mildly embarrassed when she confided in Will, on the eve of the annual game of fugitive, that she had never in fact learned how to drive. She was far too embarrassed to share with Harry, who had given her the shiny keys to one of his mom’s untouched cars, eyes bright as he promised she wouldn’t be able to catch him. She feared that he may be right when Will hysterically attempted to explain the gas pedal and the brake to her in the middle of the driveway at 4am. She thought she understood, kind of, but it didn’t stop her nervousness from clouding her need to win the competition.
Nearly 24 hours later, she finds herself in a sleek, black Rolls Royce, waiting for Harry to blow the horn. He introduces the rules, as he has for the past two years, and reminds the group of the teams, which had been pinned up at city hall for going on three weeks. He smiles a cheeky, private smile in Allie’s direction before letting the horn off, bolting off to hide.
The mandatory few seconds go by and Allie watches as the cars around her rip down the road, off to hunt their prey. She stalls, looking around at the emptiness that has become in the last minute or so, before putting her foot on the gas. She jolts forward with the car’s speed as it tears down the road, going from 0 to 60 in less than 10 seconds. The speed scares her enough to take her foot off entirely until she is comfortably coasting at a moderate 20mph. She realizes she’s going slow, but she’s too scared to go any faster. Surely she’ll still be able to find someone.
She spends an entire twenty minutes slowly coasting, having only traveled a total of two blocks. She’s realising now that she’s never had to go through being on the ‘it’ end of fugitive, and it’s a lot harder than just running and curling up somewhere dark.
She slows to a stop, deciding that she can walk faster than she’s comfortable driving at, grabbing the flashlight Harry had told her was stored in the glove box.
Allie wonders, as she walks down the well-lit street, how they’ve managed to keep the lights on for as long as they have. The game, played on the last day of summer every year, would’ve been kind of eerie in the dark. Suddenly, she hears a rustle in the twigs behind her and turns quickly, but sees nothing there. She stands still, skeptical that someone isn’t hiding in the bushes, until she sees a car turn on the street, their headlights illuminating her and everything around her, and her eyes fall on Harry’s face in the bushes.
“You asshole,” Allie yells, stomping over to him, “you would’ve scared the crap out of me!”
“And that’s my fault, how?” Harry laughs, stepping out from behind the bush, “aren’t you supposed to be in a car anyway? I’ve been waiting like an hour for you to drive past.”
Allie cheeks dust pink, her hands suddenly seemingly incredibly interesting to her. “I, uh- Harry, I don’t know how to drive.”
Harry bursts out laughing, sputtering out between breaths, asking Allie why she hadn’t just told him, saying that he would have taught her years ago, that he would have even given her one of the cars in his driveway. When he looks up, Allie is blushing to her ears, expression caught between embarrassment and frustration. Harry tries to gather himself, panting a little as he catches his breath.
“Hey,” he says, grabbing Allie in a hug, “you could’ve just asked me to teach you.”’
“Maybe I didn’t want some asshole to teach me how to drive,” Allie teases, jokingly fighting out of Harry’s hug. Harry holds fast until Allie starts pinching his ribs and he yelps, bringing them both to the ground. He recovers quickly during their continued wrestling, and gets Allie pinned.
“Bad choice, Allie,” Harry grins mischievously, a brush stroke away from a smirk. “This is what happens when you get caught by a fugitive instead of the other way around.”
Harry’s fingers make quick work teasing Allie’s ribs, and she’s quick to start giggling, shaking her head and desperately trying to grab Harry’s hands. She snorts when Harry pinches her bottom ribs, arching her back off the ground. She’s trashing everywhere, legs kicking, arms grappling for Harry’s.
He spiders his fingers over Allie’s collarbones and her giggles get shrill while she tries to block his fingers with her shoulders. “Hahaharry nohoho! Ihihit tihihickles! Ihiht tickles! I’m sohohory!”
“Well,” Harry says, making a show of leaning his chin on his fist, “I don’t think I’m satisfied.”
His fingers spider down to her tummy and she screeches, hiccuping and snorting when she writhes in the grass. Harry drills into her hips and squeezes the skin above her belly button, relishing in how hard she laughs and shouts each time. Eventually he slows down, letting up and rolling onto his side in the grass next to her.
“You alright, Allie?”
She rolls onto her side to face him, leaning on her elbow. She leans forward and kisses him, tangling the fingers of her free hand in his hair. “I am, but you’re evil,” she laughs when they part.
Harry stays frozen in place, staring at her with wide eyes after they had pulled apart. She grins back at him, eyes sparkling. He’s snapped out of his trance when Allie spiders fingers under his chin, pulling back with a squeal. She gets up and runs, giggling as she goes.
“Oh, you’re so gonna get it, Pressman.”
#the society#allie pressman#harry bingham#ticklish!harry#ticklish!allie#ler!allie#ler!harry#miya&mia's tickletober#tickletober#tickletober 2023
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