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facioleeknow · 2 months

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Always right ° Bang Chan

You and Chan are at a party and things get very steamy ;)

WC: 1263 Genre: College AU, smut 18+ ONLY

TW: drinking, partying, dry humping, talks of sex, tipsy chan and reader, chan cums in his pants and he is very hot, mention of masturbation, sort of public sex

A/N: this mf lifts 140kg, he's insane and he wants me dead. Also reblogs and comments are highly appreciated since I am running a little low on confidence and inspiration, thank you <3.

The party was officially over. Red solo cups laid on the floor, abandoned and crinkled. The music was faint and so were the lights, if you weren’t so close to Chan you wouldn’t have been able to see him clearly. You and him were the only ones left at his house, at least the only ones awake. One or two people were sprawled down on the pool chairs, fully passed out, last time you checked.

Chan gave off heat in waves, his warmth seeped into your bones, giving you a sense of tranquility and helping you with the chilly night air coming from the open window. A half empty bottle of soju was passed between you two, every sip made you more lightheaded and warm. Your cheeks shined a bright red and your eyes twinkled.

An invisible bubble wrapped around you, making the intimacy in the air even more pronounced. Rivers of words flew out of your mouth with ease; you could never stop talking when you were together, a gift from being friends for a decade.

“What would you do if you were a man for a day?” asked Chan with a giggle when you made a face.

“Ew, I would never want to be a man for a day, that’s nasty.”

“It’s just a what if situation,” he giggled even more at your antics.

“Honestly?” you looked at him, with your lips pursed.

“Honestly,” he was now facing you. His red cheeks matched yours, a wide grin on his face.

“I would beat my meat the whole day.”

Chan choked on the liquor, a loud laugh resonating in his chest.

“You’re a pervert.”

“I’m not,” you argued, “being a woman and cumming most of the time are not compatible things. And also, don’t pretend like you wouldn’t spend the whole day with a hand down your pants if you were a woman,” you quipped back.

“Alright you got me, but I would do it for science, so I could pleasure my hook ups more,” he stated matter of factly. Your face must have reflected how unimpressed you were because Chan giggled once more and sipped at the bottle of alcohol.

“What about communication, Christopher? Maybe if you want to know what a girl likes, you should ask her.”

“You’re right.”

“As always.”

Giggles escaped both of your lips. He was even closer to you now, his breath tickled your face; you swore you saw his eyes glance down at your lips and then up again at your eyes, but then again it could’ve been the liquor talking.

“Have you got any more silly questions or what ifs for me?” his eyes weren’t your main focus anymore, your eyes were glued to his lips. The plush flesh of his bottom lip was trapped between his teeth, a smile still present.

“Are you attracted to me?” You huffed at the boy’s question.

“That’s a dumb question, Christopher. You are a handsome and muscly man who is also very caring and kind, every girl in our college is attracted to you.”

His eyes twinkled, from the alcohol and in amusement. He put the bottle down next to him.

“Are you though?”

“As I said, every girl in our college is attracted to you, and I am a girl in college, so..” you trailed off. Chan’s warm hand found the expanse of your thigh, his thumb gently rubbed your skin. Your breath hitched in your throat but you contained yourself, skinship wasn’t unusual for you two, especially since he was a real cuddle bug.

“Then,” he face was so near yours that your noses almost touched, “are you sexually attracted to me?”

His words shocked you and you slightly widened your eyes. His wicked side only came out once in a while, but you have always enjoyed it. If Christopher wanted to play then you would do the same.

“Are you?” Your eyes fixed on each other’s faces, trying to see who would break first.

“Should we fuck?” you giggled loudly. Something shifted in Chan’s eyes after your question, they became dark and full of lust. You had never seen him like that, but you couldn't say that you minded.

“I thought you would never ask, baby.”

His big hands wrapped around your waist and carefully lifted you in his lap. The move felt effortless, your weight didn’t affect him at all, you were as light as a kitten. That made you incredibly wet, the gym had definitely paid off.

“You said communication is important, tell me what to do then baby,” his lips inched closer and closer to your ear. A delicate kiss was placed behind your earlobe and it made your pussy throb with need. You should’ve been ashamed at how fast you were getting worked up but it was Chris who was working you up and also you were way too horny to care.

“Kiss me please.”

The boy under you slowly reached for your lips and laid a chaste, soft kiss on your awaiting lips. His lips were soft and plump, they felt heavenly, you couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel like on your pussy, wrapped around your little clit,

The kiss was fast and sweet but soon after came a second and a third and soon your lips were molded together. His tongue peaked out of his lips and licked at your bottom lip. A series of huffs and whimpers came out of both of you, the air around you felt sticky and stuffy.

You didn’t realize that your hips had started to move until Chan held your hips in place.

“What do you want , baby? Communication, remember?” he sounded cocky. You whined at his words, there was no need to be a smartass.

“Please Channie, let me grind on you.” He finally slacked the bruising grip on your hips and let you move back and forth on his lap. A prominent and promising boner pressed against your hot clothed core. The stimulation wasn’t enough to let you see stars but it sent tingles of pleasure up and down your spine, besides Chan’s huffs and puffs were better than anything you had ever experienced in your life.

The boy threw his head back against the cushion of the couch, giving you free access to his tempting neck. Your lips latched onto his pulse point and started to suck gently, occasionally biting and then licking the area. Your hips sped up in their rhythm as wetness collected on your folds and soiled your panties.

“Oh god, baby, is it bad if I already want to cum?” he asked with a guttural moan. His ears and cheeks bright red, his eyes screwed shut.

“No Channie, go ahead:”

Your lips trailed a sensual path up and down his neck. Cold hands made their way up his shirt and trailed over his lower belly, abs and then landed on his pecs. Your fingers pushed and circled around his hardened nipples, a whine coming out of Chan’s mouth.

The moment you pinched his nipples, hard, the boy knew he was over. He scrunched up his face in pleasure and his muscles contracted. Hot spurts of cum came out of him quickly, coating and effectively ruining his favorite pair of pants and underwear. His breath was labored when he looked at you, face flushed and slightly sweaty. You looked like a goddess.

“You didn’t cum,” he stated, his voice strained.

“You did, though, so I think I deserve a reward for it.”

Chan giggled breathlessly and slapped your hip playfully.

“You’re right, as always.”

Taglist: @kflixnet @bahng-chrizz @hann1bee

#straykidsland #kpop #reader insert #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #stray kids college au #bang chan college au #bang chan au #chan x reader #chan smut #chan au

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star-eyed-angels · 2 months

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Oblivious

Changbin x female reader

angst/fluff 1.8k

Where your boyfriend is a little oblivious and awful at names.

AN: Request for @jin-from-the-block hope you like it❣️ Some. pre-valentine's angst because I clearly enjoy hurting my own feelings.

______

It’s the week of valentine’s day and everything feels like it’s falling apart. The apartment you share with Changbin has practically become a war zone. Every time you both enter a shared space the bickering and snide comments turns into an all out screaming match. It’s come to a point where he doesn’t bother coming home, choosing to spend the night at the dorms. To Changbin’s credit you’re doing the same thing. You’re all but hiding from your boyfriend at this point, taking longer shifts at work just to avoid him.

Changbin can’t figure out exactly what went wrong. All he knows is that it started a week ago. One day everything is great and he feels like the luckiest guy on earth. Then the next you’re looking at him like he’s a stranger. At first he’d brushed off your behavior, thinking it was just because you were having an off day, but by dinner time the fighting had begun.

Now it’s the day before Valentine’s Day and you’re still giving him the cold shoulder. He can’t help the way he keeps glancing at his phone, waiting for a text from you that will let him know everything is back to normal. Hours pass with him holed up in the studio, not a single call or text from you. At first he’s angry. Angry at you for the cold attitude you have towards him. But now as he unlocks his phone scrolling through the notifications for any sign of you, he’s just sad. Normally you’re blowing up each other’s phones when you’re apart, but now it’s just silence.

The sound of something hitting the desk startles Chan and Jisung from their spots across the room. They both look over to see Changbin with his head on the desk. Chan and Jisung share a look, Jisung jerking his head towards Changbin.

“Bin, you good?” Chan calls out gently. He only gets a grunt in response.

“Hyung, why don’t you just go home? You’re mind’s not here anyways,” Jisung says, spinning his chair around.

“I can't, she doesn’t want me there.” he lifts his head, dragging his hands down his face.

“How do you know that?” Chan says, now facing Changbin as well. He huffs, glancing at his phone with a sad look.

“She won’t even talk to me. And everytime she does it just turns into a fight,” his says sadly. Jisung and Chan share another look. Jisung gives their leader a look, Chan only shakes his head.

“Look, Jisung is right. You haven’t been able to focus in days. There’s no point in you forcing yourself to stay here,” he says. He quietly stands from his chair, going over to shut Changbin’s laptop carefully.

“You should try and talk to her, sitting here isn’t going to help fix whatever is going on between you two”. Changbin glances back down at his phone screen that’s lit up with his lockscreen. The picture of the two of you staring back at him. A picture of his favorite day, spent completely with you. It makes him miss you even more. He decides then that he’s going to get through to you one way or another.

He’d walked into your apartment hoping to have a normal conversation with you. Instead you’d looked up from your place on the couch and huffed, turning back to your phone.

Only this time Changbin’s had enough, fed up at your unprovoked attitude towards him. He’s getting you to talk to him.

“Okay enough already, what’s your problem? You’ve been giving me the silent treatment for days now and I’m over it,” unable to suppress his anger any longer.

You scoff, getting up and trying to make your way into the bedroom. You’re still not in the mood to talk with him, the rational part of your brain tells you to stop. But your broken heart holds you in its shackles. Changbin follows you, unwilling to go another night like this.

“See! There you go again, walking away like a brat!” He says bitterly. You whip around to look at him, jamming a finger into his chest. It startles him slightly, not used to this side of you.

“Don’t call me a brat Changbin. I’m not a fucking child,” you seethe.

“Well you’re acting like one,” he fires back. Any thoughts of having a rational conversation with you have since disappeared.

“I have every right to be fucking pissed at you,” you defend. Your mind stuck on what he’d done to upset you.

“At me? What the hell did I do?” he asks in disbelief. You scoff, crossing your arms in front of you. Changbin groans, running his hands through his hair.

“God, can’t you just use your words for five seconds? You say you’re not a child, but look at how you’re acting! You won’t even tell me what’s wrong, I’m not a mind reader, I can’t just magically know why you’re acting so goddamn crazy!” he yells. You blink back the stinging in your eyes at his words.

“Fuck you.” you finally say, your voice cold and empty as you do it. Changbin feels his own eyes sting at your response. He stares at you for a few more seconds before he shakes his head in defeat.

“I don’t get why you’re so angry at me, I haven’t done anything to you. You won’t tell me what’s wrong, and if I did something I want to fix it, but I can’t if you don’t tell me. So please, please just fucking talk to me already. I can’t keep dancing in circles with you y/n,” he pleads quietly.

The way he says your name makes your stomach curl. The pure exhaustion in his voice makes your heartbreak more than it already has. You stare at him, searching for any sign he’s lying to you. He stares back at you with his own heartbreak in his eyes.

“You really have no idea, do you?” you ask softly.

Of what? Why you’re acting this way? No, absolutely none,” he responds just as quiet. When you turn away Changbin sighs, turning to leave.

“Okay fine. Don’t talk to me. I’m going to the dorms. I’ll be there if you decide you want me” he says. He’s about ready to bolt before he starts crying in front of you.

“Six.” you say quietly.

“What?” Changbin turns to look back at you. You’re still facing away from him, staring down at the ground. He watches you take a deep breath before you finally turn to face him.

“Six times. You’ve called me by her name six times,” you say solemnly.

For a moment Changbin just stares at you, confused at what you’re telling him. Then it finally kicks in at who the her you’re referring to is. HIs blood runs cold as the images of his ex dance across his mind.

“No, I didn’t,” he’s quick to defend. You shake your head, feeling the stinging sensation in your eyes again.

“Yes, you did. It started when we were out at the cafe, and I didn’t say anything because I know it’s the cafe that you found out she was cheating on you in,” you start to explain. Changbin moves to say something, but you don’t let him get a word out.

“Then it happened on the way home, and again I didn’t say anything because it’s an honest mistake. But then you kept doing it. And then you said it when we were in front of your members and I just-” you sniffle, swiping your hand across your face quickly.

“Baby, I didn’t- I-” he’s at a loss for words, instead he just gapes at you. Your heart sinks a bit, more tears pouring out at his reaction.

“When you said it in front of your members they all looked at me like I was something to pity. That’s why I left early. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you. Because to be honest I can’t bear to look at you,” you finally confess, your voice cracking the more you continue. Changbin stares on in horror, his eyes watering.

“Things happen and I know that, but you look at me like you’re so in love and then you say her name. How am I supposed to be okay with that? How do I not think about everything that she is and I’m not. I can't look at you and wonder if she’s what’s on your mind, that she’s the one you want,” you cry out. Changbin’s crying at this point, his head dropped into his hands. The action does little to stop the small hiccups that escape him.

“And if-” you pause, the mere thought of what you’re about to say makes you nauseous, “and if you’re cheating on me or talking to someone else can you please just tell me? Because if you don’t love me anymore I need you to tell me now, I don’t think my heart can bear much more of this,” you plead. You’re also crying freely at this point, the heartbreak you’ve been bottling in finally overcoming you. Changbin has already been feeling lightheaded from the amount of crying he’s done in such a short time. But those words nearly make his knees buckle.

“No! No, god no. I know I’m stupid and clearly an oblivious fucking idiot. But I would never do anything to betray you that way,” he says firmly. You turn away from him, still too emotional to really look at him.

“I know I’ve fucked up, and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for making you feel this way. But I’ll only ever want you, and I’m so sorry for hurting you like this,” he says softly, “You- you’re it for me. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I didn’t know I needed”.

You’re still searching for any signs that he’s lying when you turn towards him. He only looks at you with his watery eyes and a serious expression. You start crying harder, reaching out to him. He’s already taking a step towards you the second your hands reach for him. He crushes you against him, like if he lets you get too far you’ll leave him.

“I’m so sorry baby. I wish you would have said something,” he says, burying his face into your hair as he hiccups quietly.

“It’s okay-” you start but he’s quick to cut you off. He pulls away from your hair, making sure to look directly at you.

“No. It’s not. If I do anything to hurt you I need you to tell me. No more of this holding it in, I thought I was going to lose you for good,” he says softly. You press a gentle kiss at the base of his neck, hugging him tighter.

“You won’t, I need you just as much as you need me,” you say quietly. Changbin’s sure you can feel his heart flutter at that.

“I love you, he mumbles, pressing soft kisses to your head.

“I love you, too” you say, also sure that Changbin can feel the effect his words have on you.

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids hurt/comfort #stray kids fluff #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz angst #changbin x reader #changbin angst #changbin hurt/comfort #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #writing

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ivestas · 1 year

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Thank you for writing my request, I loved it!! I have another idea but it's a deeper subject so I understand not everyone is comfortable with writing about it. Could you write about a younger reader and the team see self harm wounds and scars while they were injured or while they were changing? (Something along those lines) and what they would do/ react? Xx

what is most precious to you?

Summary: The 141 discover a part of you that you’d wanted to bury.

Tags: TW s/elf harm scars + sui/cide and talk of it, please read carefully/don't read if this topic triggers you, platonic!141 x medic!fem!reader, reader implied to be mentally ill, younger!reader, descriptions of blood and injury, canon typical violence, soap + ghost focused, unedited

Word count: 1.5k

Notes: im glad u enjoyed the previous req anon! i hope I'm able to do this req justice too 🫡

You’d been a part of the 141 long enough for the others to know and trust you.

An esteemed medic that knew medicine and all things fixing like the back of her hand, despite your age—it was a natural skill, it seemed. Your hands were always so damn fast with a gauze—hell, even a dirty rag you’d make use of in an instant.

You were just good. Reliable. Consistent. Seemingly just a normal young lady whose only eccentricity was the job she chose to be: a medic for a merc group.

Soap often liked to joke about that normalcy that clung onto you.

“Bet when you’re on leave you work a 9 to 5 and sleep right at 8. I’m right, aren’t I?”

You snorted. “No, I’d sleep at 9.”

“Ohhhhh, daring! Don’t be too crazy! Ya might just lose a leg!”

Even Ghost would sometimes jump in, adding his own joke occasionally.

“Should I get you a planner for your birthday? A nice, minimalist one with neutral stickers to match.”

You’d scoff and jab back, whether it be at Ghost’s mask or Soap’s current and past hair-styles.

But they never gave you a tough time about it—they were glad that one of them was able to blend back to civvy life with ease.

Price even said it was his favorite trait—”sometimes, you need the practicality and mindset of a normal lady to get shit done.”

“Thanks?”

The guys all had a similar image of what your childhood was like: middle-class, parents all stiff-like and old-timey, your favorite hobbies probably were things like football or reading, things like that.

However, that image shattered during a post-mission intermission.

Things went wrong, completely askew—the enemies were clearly prepared for the attack, because landmines were everywhere and the area was crawling with hostiles.

It was a resounding loss—many casualties, wounded, etc.

You could hardly keep up, trying to patch up as many as possible, even when the sky rained of bullets and the air tasted thickly of gunpowder and death. It was like a place between purgatory and hell, a constant flow of shouts, screams, explosions.

It was too late for you to noticed a bullet grazed your arm; it was deep enough to be visible, but luckily it wasn’t aimed low enough for it to shoot into your arm.

You had ignored the wound—in your mind, it only made sense to focus on the soldiers who were fighting for their lives and riddled with bullet wounds.

So you just did that: focus on them.

But, due to the constant movement and strain, the graze only worsened, almost tearing. The adrenaline numbed the pain, but you knew it was gonna hurt like a bitch soon enough.

Luckily though, Ghost shouted in your ear through the comms.

“Bravo-1, retreat!—fuckin’ hell—everyone, retreat!”

You did just that—retreat.

Huffing and puffing, you were quick to run to the distant chopper you recognized as the 141′s. A haze of sand was the only saving grace as it covered you from the enemies direct line of sight.

Soap pulled you into the helicopter with a quick grab of your wrist, completely unaware of the graze that arm sustained. You let out a sharp hiss of pain, feeling the skin tear just a little more.

The entrance of the helicopter shut, and with both of you heaving, the plane finally shot back into the air, rocking back and forth the slightest bit. The sound of bullets slowly melted away into harsh whirring and mechanical buzz.

You took a moment to collect yourself, inhaling sharply before you got up, arm still bleeding.

But, strangely, you felt it drip along your arm and into your hand, running along your finger—ah, it should’ve been obvious, the sleeve of your wounded arm had completely torn.

You lifted the arm, examining the wound.

Scars of varying sizes, textures, and freshness—some having strange bubbly dots, others consisting of messy lines. Some of the fresher scars had torn a little, causing thin lines or red to rise.

Your blood ran cold. You glance up, hoping—praying—that Soap didn’t see, or even understand the implications.

But you could see he was staring, the cogs in his mind slowly snapping together.

You put your arm away to your side, hiding it from his view.

“Lass—“

“I need a medkit. We have one on the plane?”

You loathed the look of sadness, of pity that shone in his eyes, pulled at the muscles of his face.

Don’t. Stop.

I’m not weak. Don’t—I’m not weak!

A chorus of words, feelings, of palpable dark was what filled your mind now. Insecurity, self-hatred, all of it—you’d been working on it, trying to regulate, to reason with the miasma that had taken ahold of your consciousness.

But, fuck, you’ve revealed it to Soap of all people—he felt bad, didn’t he? Disgusted? Worried? He was gonna tell Price, wasn’t he? That your unfit for the 141, that—

A hand rested on the top of your shoulder.

“Can I patch you up?” Soap asked softly.

You grit your teeth. Moving away from his hand, you shook your head, glaring at the floor. A small splatter of blood was there. “I can fix it myself.”

You expected—wanted—him to berate you.

But he didn’t. He was kind.

“Sure, kid. I’ll just get ya the med kit—stay put.”

Another wave of shame rocked you. You sat on one of the small seats connected to the walls of the heli, rubbing away the small bits of dried blood.

Consumed by your thoughts, you didn’t hear Soap murmuring to Ghost.

“The kid—she, ah...” He ran a finger along his wrist. “Catch my drift?”

“Cutting herself?” Ghost said bluntly.

“Sometimes I wish you had a little more tact, L.T.”

Ghost ignored him. “They fresh or old?”

“Both,” he sighed, grabbing a med kit from one of the plane’s various compartments. “What’re we supposed to do? Don’t wanna scare off the kid, but don’t wanna leave her on her own devices hacking away at ‘erself!”

Ghost grabbed the kit from his hands. “I’ll handle this. You sit down—go near the Captain. Try to leave us some privacy.”

Hesitantly, Soap nodded. “Work your magic, sir.”

Ghost made his way to the other end of the helicopter where you were. You were hunched over your wound, a deep frown on your face. It’s uncharacteristic, but he knew it was a part of yourself you’d prefer to be shrouded in dark. Suffering wasn’t a nice look, was it?

But it was human. Denying your own right to feel it—it made Ghost frown too.

He sat beside you, kit in his hand. You had finally looked up then, alarmed.

“Gimme your arm, kid.”

You opened your mouth.

“Not leavin’ till I patch your arm up, so don’t even try.”

Shamefully, you lifted your arm slowly.

He took it with gentle but firm hands, a thumb running along a faint scar.

Ghost opened the kit haphazardly with another hand.

“When I was your age—maybe a little younger—couldn’t find much meaning in everything.”

He lifted his hand from your arm and grabbed alcohol and a small cotton rag. Dampening the rag with alcohol, he drew it to your arm, rubbing away the excess blood and cleaning the wounds. You didn’t make any noise, only breathing raggedly.

“The suffering was pointless, in my eyes; thought, ‘this isn’t bloody fair’. Born in a shitty house with a shitter father, food hardly ever on the table, my mind deteriorating, and the world cast in deep gray.”

You nodded.

Ghost grabbed a bandage gauze, unravelling it and wrapping it gently around the graze and the scars. It was calming, watching him work away, even if the wrapping was a little clumsy.

“The harsh reality came a little while later, and it’s that people like me—us—we gotta work hard for shit to change. That this weight forced upon us, it’s only we that can shed it off. It’s still not fair—frankly, suicide is easier. Thought of doing it for the longest time... But...”

He shook his head. “In my eyes, it’s a coward’s way out. We should never die by our own hands—there’s always something to live for.”

“What are you living for?”

“Mmmm.... For tomorrow’s pint.”

You laughed.

He grabbed a safety pin and pinned the end of the gauze. “...now, I know it’s ‘silly’ to say, but you know we’re here for you?—the 141′s got your back, kid—how about this, let’s make a deal.”

“Yeah?”

“You ever have the urge to cut yer arm, you come straight to me, or the others. They’ll listen. They care.”

They care.

It’s weird, but hearing the words said out loud, it hit you.

They really care.

You took in a shaky breath. “Thank... you.”

“It’s no problem at all, kid. Stay strong.”

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#modern warfare x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #tw s/elf harm #idk if its an unpopular opinion to assume ghost has some variation of depression #but its a personal headcanon!#john mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #simon riley x reader #mw2 x reader

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adamcoled · 9 months

Text

jealousy | rhea ripley

rhea ripley x fem!reader

summary: you and rhea aren’t anything official, but you’re still jealous upon seeing her flirt with others.

word count: 3,838

warnings: just slight sexual implications i think?

a/n: WOW um okay hi, i haven’t posted writing on this blog in YEARS but i recently got fully back into wrestling and have developed such a love for rhea ripley. so i decided to start writing again, but it’s been so long this definitely isn’t my best work. here’s to getting back into the swing of things i hope! (also i know samantha is engaged to ricochet and ofc all of it is just character work, but it made for a good plot soo)

Rhea was a flirt. That much was true long before you, and it was certainly not a secret to most. She had the charm, and of course the looks, so people were naturally drawn to her, and she loved that. Flirting, to her, was fun – harmless fun, for the most part – and typically it never went beyond cheeky comments or tantalizing gestures.

So when Rhea began flirting with you, initially you didn’t think much of it and really had no reason to. She was attractive – incredibly attractive – and her voice could melt you instantly if you let it; but this was just her thing. At first, you would catch her staring at you backstage or at other company events. Then, she started making it a point to tell you how beautiful you looked each time she saw you. From there, you were texting a lot more and hanging out outside of schedule. But still, it was never anything official and they were never labeled as “dates,” which you internally hated yourself for forgetting.

Because now, you were jealous. A fiery red jealousy that had you feeling betrayed without the entitlement to do so. For some reason, you thought things seemed different between you and Rhea. She seemed more serious and attentive, even remembering small details you’d told her about things you enjoyed. You couldn’t imagine she did that for just anyone she happened to flirt with.

Yet there you were last night, scrolling through Twitter and seeing endless posts about Rhea and Samantha. Rhea was being her usual flirty self, smiling, blowing kisses, and surely winking beneath those glasses, and it was obvious Samantha was enjoying it. Even worse, there were also comment threads with Cathy, and you knew it was all lighthearted, but it still made you feel some type of way.

You liked Rhea. A lot actually. Maybe that’s why you wanted to believe she liked you too and treated you differently from the rest. Clearly, you were wrong. And you weren’t going to be strung along in a game or play along with silly flirting when you genuinely hoped for more with her. That’s why now that she was here in front of you, you were going to be as indifferent as possible.

“Hey pretty girl,” Rhea greeted, smile beaming as always. She had finally found you backstage after you’d made it a point to not respond to some of her texts. It didn’t seem like she was too upset or phased by that judging by the greeting she’d given you.

“Hey,” you responded with only a half-smile of your own. That was something she definitely picked up on, because you swore you’d never seen her face fall faster.

“Are you alright?”

“Hm?” you hummed, dropping your attention back to your phone. Usually, she would have your full focus, but you were making every attempt to emphasize your feigned disinterest. “I’m fine, what’s up?”

Rhea used her thumb and forefinger to grip your chin and tilt it upwards, forcing your gaze towards her rather than your phone screen. Hastily, she studied your face as if she would be able to read your thoughts merely by doing so; with her eyes looking you over so intently, you felt your face heating up quickly.

“You seem off,” she finally commented, her finger tracing along your jawline from your chin before finally dropping back down to her side. You immediately missed the feeling of her touch against your skin, but that was something you would have to subdue. One thing you noticed was that Rhea seemed genuinely concerned, her eyebrows downturned and the smile she always wore - around you at least - nowhere in sight.

“No, Rhea, I’m really okay,” you shrugged.

“Then why are you acting like you can’t wait to get away from me?”

Her bluntness shouldn’t have come as a shock to you, but you were still taken aback when she asked so outright. While she usually oozed confidence, that seemed to be lost now. And it almost made you think you had been right about the two of you all along. But then you remembered how content she looked in those videos with Samantha, and how easily she could flirt with someone else when you had secretly been turning down advances in hopes there would be a real chance at a relationship between you and Rhea.

“I’m not acting like that. I really don’t care if you’re around or not,” you lied, and it was meant to sound nonchalant and unbothered but you silently cursed yourself for making it come out more aggressively.

“You don’t care?” she repeated incredulously, almost in disbelief of how drastically you changed. Just a few days ago, you were telling her how much you adored her smile with her head in your lap. Now, she couldn’t figure out why you wanted nothing to do with her - and it was crushing her.

“Listen, can we please talk about this later? The show’s about to start and the Judgment Day is up first, I don’t want you thinking about this out there.”

“Are we really gonna talk later?” Rhea questioned. “Or is that your cop out to avoid it altogether?”

And you hated her for knowing you so well, because it was partially your dread of the conversation. Still, you didn’t think it was a good idea to have it right before she was slated to go speak in front of thousands of people. At this point, she was frowning, yet still staring right through you.

“We’ll talk,” you promised.

“I have your word? Whatever’s going on is important to me. It really is, Y/N.”

The resolve of indifference you had was all but faded upon hearing how sincerely Rhea cared. You didn’t want to be just another game for her, but it was proving far too difficult for you to ignore your internal feelings. And she looked too pretty standing there, worried about you and looking at you in a way that made you feel naked beneath her eyes. Not in a sexually demanding way - not in the way too many people do - but in a way where you felt like she saw your very soul.

“Find me after the show?” you asked. “I’ll let you take me back to the hotel. Can’t exactly hide from my ride.”

You finally smiled wholeheartedly after making that joke, and Rhea had never been so happy to see a smile before. For a moment, she felt like everything was fine.

“Yeah, I’ll find you, angel.”

From backstage, you watched as Rhea walked out with the Judgment Day and cut a promo just as good as any other, if not better. It was impossible to tell the kind of conversation you two had shortly beforehand, and for that you were grateful. You weren’t sure you could remain as unphased as her, and seeing as you had a match tonight as well, you made it a point to avoid any further interactions with her during show hours. Busying yourself with your phone, Rhea still found a way to affect you when you saw her name flash across the top of your screen, indicating a text.

From: rhea :)

Good luck tonight ❤️

Half inclined to simply leave her on delivered, you hesitantly opened it and sent back a “thanks.” Following the Judgment Day’s segment, the rest of the show seemed to go by quickly, your own match fast approaching. While you were waiting in gorilla to make your entrance, you saw flashes of jet black hair out of the corner of your eye. A subtle glance over revealed it to be Rhea, naturally, standing there talking with Damian. Call it coincidence, or - the more likely case - call it Rhea’s tendency to be methodical with her actions. And like clockwork, her eyes met your own, leaving you no time to look away before she was grinning at you slyly. You thought perhaps her getting into character in front of the WWE Universe took away much of the previous unease and disappointment she felt during your earlier conversation. Because before, she seemed well and truly worried about the state of you, and you were sure she still was to some extent, but now her confidence had returned.

You had hardly any time to process it before you had to walk out, your theme hitting just as Rhea set her focus back on the man in front of her. That stupid, beautiful smile you thought to yourself. Right now, though, you needed to worry about your match against Zoey Stark, especially since you knew Rhea would be watching attentively.

Once the match began, you fell right back into your element. Zoey was a fierce opponent, but you had a fire beneath you and after a well-fought match on both sides, you came out victorious. You were feeling extremely proud of both yours and Zoey’s performance and partially hoped Rhea had watched the whole thing.

(She absolutely did).

Returning backstage, you noticed Rhea was now nowhere in sight. Your match was towards the last hour of Raw, however, which meant you wouldn’t have much time to kill before you’d have to meet up with her anyways. Thankfully, you found Liv, one of your closest friends on the roster, and knew you could spend the remaining time talking with her about anything and everything - the primary topic of discussion being you and Rhea.

“It’s just like, I think things are different with me and her,” you began, to which Liv nodded in agreement. “But then I see how she acts with other people, and I’m not so sure. Am I being delusional for thinking that way?”

“You’d be delusional if you thought otherwise! The girl is a flirt, sure, but she practically fawns over you at any given moment and is always asking about you,” Liv countered. All too often, she’d be the one Rhea would come to when she wanted to find out your whereabouts, as if Liv had a constant read on you at all times. You knew that to be true, but it still wasn’t total reassurance.

“You’re right, I guess. And I kinda told her I’d ride with her to the hotel so we could talk, sooo,” you revealed.

“I thought we were riding together?” Liv questioned, only slightly upset to be losing her driving buddy. If she had to make that sacrifice to advance things between you and Rhea, she’d accept it wholeheartedly. Just as you opened your mouth to apologize, someone else’s voice interrupted. A certain Australian accent.

“I’m sorry, did I steal Y/N away for the night?” Rhea quipped, placing her hand on the small of your back where Liv wouldn’t see.

“Actually, I’m willingly handing her over so that you two can figure your mess out.”

“Well, thank you so very much for that,” Rhea smiled, seeming genuinely appreciative. She redirected her attention from Liv to you. “Told you I’d find ya. You ready to go?”

You glanced down at your phone, not even realizing how much time had passed with you and Liv chatting. The show was nearing the end, and Rhea already had her bag by her side, meanwhile you hadn’t even gotten your stuff together yet.

“I gotta go get my stuff real quick. You wanna wait here for me? I’ll be quick.”

“I can wait,” Rhea nodded, to which you took off with a promise to be no more than ten minutes. Once you were out of earshot, Liv had a few comments for the taller, raven-haired woman.

“I hope you do right by her.”

“Didn’t realize I’d done wrong,” Rhea retorted, confusedly. “...Have I done wrong?”

Liv only shrugged, though she really did believe Rhea was unaware of how she’d unintentionally hurt you. “Nothing that can’t be fixed, I think.”

“Liv,” Rhea started, her face becoming more serious. “I really like her.”

“Then make sure she knows that.”

When you gathered everything and found your way back to Rhea, Liv was long gone and Rhea was leaned against the wall, her eyes shifted down and transfixed on her phone as she absentmindedly scrolled through Twitter. She looked too good even just standing there in her own world. But before you could admire her for much longer, she heard you approaching and glanced up from her phone, shoving it into her pocket immediately upon realizing it was you.

“Ready now, princess?”

The nickname rolled off her tongue so easily, yet it had your cheeks heating up within seconds. You nodded, following behind as she led the way to her car. Outside, she popped the trunk for each of you to toss your bags inside, and then she made sure to open the passenger door for you as well; it was the little gestures like that that made your heart flutter and your feelings for her to grow even stronger.

“Well, I just wanna start by saying you were amazing tonight,” Rhea complimented once she had settled into the driver’s seat.

“Thank you,” you giggled. “You watched it?”

“From start to finish, like always.”

She diverted her attention from the road towards you for a moment, taking notice of how much your face lit up after hearing that. And it wasn’t like she was lying just to make you feel good, either, because she did genuinely watch you each time you stepped into the ring, and she admired you heavily.

“I don’t believe you,” you laughed, although you only slightly meant that.

“I’m serious! Ask Damian or Dom, they’ll vouch,” Rhea exclaimed, pushing her hair back as she did. You weren’t quite sure what to say now, because one, you were feeling quite flustered knowing this, and two, you could only ignore the real reason you were sat in her car for so long. She took note of your silence and decided to tackle the subject head-on, a brazen move from her as always. “You don’t seem like you hate my guts now, at least.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled at this.

“You’re being dramatic. I never acted like I hated you.”

“Slightly detested my presence?” she tried again, clearly joking at this point. While things seemed so perfect in this moment, you couldn’t help but think back to everything you’d seen flooding your Twitter timeline and how silly you’d felt for being so upset by it. As much as you liked Rhea, as much as it appeared she liked you, the harmless flirting had really gotten to you and forced you to reconsider much of what you thought. You weren’t even quite sure how to ask everything you wanted to ask, and you were admittedly fearful of rejection. But the only thing worse than rejection is never knowing.

“What do you think about me, Rhea?”

She was taken aback by this, you could tell, because she opened her mouth to speak several times but didn’t let any words out. To her, it was because she didn’t really know how to put it into words; there were so many things she thought about you, so many ways you made her feel, but it had been a confusing thing for her to navigate, unsure of your own feelings.

“I think you’re incredible, amazing in the ring, beautiful and kind but still assertive and badass,” she answered, hoping she’d said all the right things. Truthfully, that was only a small fraction of what she thought regarding you, but she was still holding back. Liv’s words repeated in her head, and she knew if she didn’t make it clear tonight, she may never get that chance again.

“And what do you think about someone like Samantha, or Cathy?”

You had caught her off guard again, the randomness of your question completely perplexing her. She hadn’t a clue why either of those two would be relevant, because - in her eyes - she had already basically forgotten the silly interactions they’d had. It still hadn’t pieced together in her mind that you were even the slightest bit jealous.

“They’re great,” she stated plainly. “Why?”

It was really now or never, you felt like. You had fed her pieces of the story, now she definitely wouldn’t stop until you told her everything, which undoubtedly included your own feelings. Rhea was focused primarily on the road, but she made sure to spare glances your way every so often, and each time you arrived at a red light, that focus was solely on you. She wanted to both try to read your expression and show you she was really, truly listening and wanting to hear what you had to say.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous,” you confessed.

“Jealous?” she repeated, even more confused now than before. But she noticed the way you retreated into yourself, suddenly finding more interest in your fingers. You could no longer look her in the eye, feeling nervous about the information you’d now divulged. This certainly didn’t deter Rhea, though, as she placed her right hand on your thigh and traced light circles with her thumb. “Why were you jealous?”

“I don’t know…it was dumb, I guess. I just saw the videos of you and Samantha, and then Cathy’s Tweets, and it made me feel like everything is just a game to you.”

Her thumb movement stopped, and instead she squeezed your thigh lightly, causing you to lift your head back up to look at her. She was already looking right back, admiring how beautiful you looked with the moonlight creeping into the car and a shyness about you she wasn’t used to.

“You’re right, that is dumb,” she affirmed. “Because do you think I know Samantha or Cathy’s top three favorite movies? Or their specific Starbucks order? The way they like their pizza? Do you think I’ve memorized all those things for anyone other than you?”

Before you could answer, Rhea moved her fingers to your wrist and asked you to push up your sleeve, which you did. She tapped directly on a birthmark of yours without even looking.

“Do you think I know each of their freckles and birthmarks?”

You were dumbfounded, at a loss for words with how much she really noticed about you. And that was only scratching the surface. While your flirtation had only started within the last few months, she had known you for years and had plenty of time to take notice of all these little things no one else would. Because she always had a soft spot for you, but you were in a long-term relationship for most of the time you’d known her, and she would never be one to overstep any boundaries.

“I just felt hurt thinking I may be falling for someone who only sees me as another person to mess around with,” you told her, taking note of how gentle her eyes were in this moment. She felt awful that she had hurt you, even unintentionally, and cursed herself for not being more aware and mindful. You weren’t committed to each other, but she still felt like she had made a mistake engaging in any kind of behavior that would make her feelings for you seem misguided.

“Y/N, I promise you how I interact with just about anyone else is entirely me in character,” she comforted. “I’m sorry for making you second guess that, but I’ve never felt realer emotions than I do with you. It’s like I can be me, just me. And I love that you make me feel that way.”

“I love when you’re just you, Rhea.”

“Then I’ll keep being just me, if I can start calling you just mine.”

Rhea was undoubtedly nervous asking you so boldly, but she was so damn happy to do so. She was staring at you hopefully, looking happier than you’d seen her since her WrestleMania win. And you were just as happy, not even realizing you had gotten to the hotel and had been parked for a minute or two now. Your entire focus was on her, eyes filled with adoration while she waited for your answer.

“I’ve basically been yours, I just needed you to be mine,” you beamed.

“I’m yours, love,” Rhea affirmed. “You are so damn beautiful.”

You wanted to instinctively look away, still feeling flustered even after the months of flirting and now technically being in a defined relationship. But Rhea knew you too well and gripped your chin before you could do so, keeping your face towards hers. Neither of you could get rid of the smiles you wore, too overwhelmed with happiness and adoration and love.

“Can I kiss you?” Rhea asked, eyes darting from your own to your lips. You nodded, and that was all it took for her to be all over you. Her lips melted into your own, and everything felt so right. Each time you pulled away, you were reconnected within seconds, physically unable to keep apart, both of you awaiting this moment for too long. You felt her smiling into the kiss, which in turn made you smile, and then you were two smiling, giggly messes. Finally, she pulled away for good (but not without one final peck) and laughed when she saw you pouting. She opened her door and made her way to yours hastily, scooping you out of your seat before you could even react. Then, you were pinned against the car with your legs around her waist.

“I’ll take you to your room?” she offered, placing feathery kisses along your jaw.

“My room?”

She laughed at how offended you sounded. “Our room?”

“Mhmm,” you confirmed. “You’re not getting away from me now, Ripley.”

You unhooked your legs from her waist and she carefully released her hold, allowing you to plant your feet back onto the solid ground. She followed you to the back of the car, popping open the trunk; you leaned forward to reach your bag, and Rhea - sly as ever - took this opportunity to smack your ass, only light enough to be a tease. Once you’d grabbed your bag and stood straight up, she was smirking, all too aware of her actions.

“Now why would I want to get away from you, baby?”

From then on, you both knew you’d be stuck with each other, practically inseparable and surely obnoxiously in love around all your friends - which they didn’t really mind, because seeing you so happy together was more than worth it. Rhea made sure to tone down her persona a bit out of respect for you, even though you reassured her you didn’t mind too much now knowing she was yours at the end of the day. Still, you couldn’t deny that you were more elated to scroll through your socials and see videos of interactions between you and Rhea rather than her and anyone else; and it definitely helped that she loved letting the cameras know you were hers.

#rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x you #wwe imagine #wrestling imagine #Wrestling Fanfic #WWE Fanfic #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #wwe fluff #rhea ripley imagine

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eveningepiphany · 1 year

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sick | H.S oneshot

A/N: harry’s post on Instagram about the cancellation of the LA shows inspired this— the amount of times he said sorry was so so sweet. I hope feels better soon. anyways this is my first post on here, so I hope you enjoy!

summary: Y/N looking after Harry when he’s got a bad case of the flu <3

warnings: mentions of illness and harry takes some painkillers. other than that just cute fluff between best friends that are totally inlove with eachother.

“Harry?” You knocked softly on his hotel door, hands struggling to balance the bags full of medicine, groceries and other necessities you bought for him.

A groan sounded from the other side, “coming… coming.”

The door swung open to reveal your best friend, his hair rumpled and a doona cover wrapped around his shirtless frame.

“Wow— you look like you’ve gonna through the wringer, H.” You say gingerly, taking in his eye bags.

Somehow, as much as you can tell he looks sick, he still looks cute.

“Feel like I’m dying.” He croaks, walking back into the room, allowing you to follow behind.

“Y’didnt have to come though.” He says, laying back down on the bed as you begin to unpack the many things you bought over for him.

“Don’t be stupid, of course I did. You’re sick.” You roll your eyes.

“I don’t want you getting sick aswell, Y/N. This is awful.”

“I know, but you would do the same for me.” You sigh, grabbing some pain relief and water as you head over to where he lays.

The TV is playing your favourite show, the one you both watch together, and he’s clearly been binge watching it.

You sit down next to him carefully, reaching your hand up to touch his forehead. It’s uncomfortably warm.

“Take these.” You prompt, and he half opens his eyes.

He takes the two pills from your palm and moves to sit up a bit.

He slips them onto his tongue, and you bring the cool glass of water up to his lips, letting him wash the pain relief back.

He thanks you before laying his head back down, hand coming up to rub at his eyes.

“Feel so bad for not being able to play.” He sighs, and you knew this would have been on the forefront of his mind.

You smiled sadly, it’s just too sweet how dedicated he is to his fans. Placing the glass on his bedside table you scoot closer to him.

“C’mere.”

“Noooo—“ he drones, “you’ll get sick.”

“Jesus Christ Harry, you’re too bloody caring.” You laugh as he tries to roll away from you.

You pull him into a hug, that he’s trying with his little energy left to resist.

Your hand goes to his hair and he immediately begins to cave, body slowly sinking into your arms.

“You did everything you could, and everyone will appreciate that so much.”

“It’s more than ok to put yourself first, Harry. Especially when it’s regarding your health.” You whisper to him.

“Yea, you’re right. There’s no way I would’ve been able to play tonight anyway, but I still feel terrible.”

“I know it really sucks, but it’s pretty much done now, so let’s just focus on getting better hm?”

“Hate seeing you like this.”

“Hate you having to see me like this.” He groans, eyes closed.

“Come on, not the first time I’ve done it.”

“That does not make me feel better.” He chuckles.

“I mean you’ve probably dealt with far worse from me.”

He smiles, knowing where you’re going with this. A handful of stories you rarely bring up to save your dignity.

But your desperate to have him feel even just a little better, so self-deprecation it is.

“Least you’re not nearly shitting yourself.”

Last year you had picked up a stomach bug on a family holiday, which Harry had come to, and it hit you out of no where.

Poor Harry was sharing a room with you, and had to deal with the constant running to the toliet, crying and clingy-ness— because of course you’re not only an emotional wreck when sick, but you crave comfort.

He stayed inside with you for half the holiday, looking after you, making sure you stayed hydrated.

“The amount of times you cried when that happened.”

“Whatever, you’re just as clingy when you’re sick though.” You tease.

“I don’t remember inviting you over here.” He sniffed.

“Yea but you would not even actually try to make me leave. You want me to look after you.”

He let out a yawn, “I like when you’re here. So I guess that’s true.”

“I’ll make you some soup, that way you’ll like me even more.” You laugh, looking down at where he’s practically curled into your side.

He stayed quiet for a few minutes, his breathing slowing out— god knows how much sleep he’d gotten last night, probably stressing about the shows.

“Y/N.” He sounded gravely as he spoke, voice riddled with sleep.

“Mmhm?”

“I love you.” He slurred, and you’re not sure he even means to be telling you this right now.

Sure, you say it all the time to eachother in passing. But the way he’s telling you now feels all the more personal, tucked into your chest.

“Like really do love you.” He reaffirms, and your heart flutters.

“Tell me again when you’re not delusional from your fever, m’kay?” You whisper.

He nods gently.

“I love you too, H.” And you can’t help but follow the words you just uttered with a kiss to his cheek.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #best friends to lovers #best friend!harry #love on tour #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb

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lawsvalentine · 1 year

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Safe With Me • Law x reader •

Requested by @nyi72 : Can you write a fanfic with Law comforting a gn reader who just had a ptsd or panic attack out of nowhere?

Cee’s Note: Thank you for this request 🫶🏽 sorry it took long I hope you enjoy it ☺️

CW: mentions of trauma, descriptions of panic attack, fluff, gender not specified, reader and Law are not together but clearly like each other, reader feels like a burden, soft!Law

“Y/N-ya?”

You heard your captain from outside the door yet you remained silent, hoping he would just walk away.

It happened again.

You absolutely hated feeling this way.

The simplest things would trigger these emotions. The sound of raised voices, the loud bangs of objects colliding together, or glass shattering on the pavement and the haunting memories would start flooding your mind. Suddenly you were back at that place in your life before you had joined the heart pirates. The air starts getting denser and suddenly it feels like you’re suffocating.

This wasn’t the first time these overwhelming feelings would hit you out of nowhere but never had it happened in front of your captain.

Law had found you hyperventilating and sobbing in the hallway of the submarine. His medical instincts kicked in and he was quick to be at your side. He was familiar with the signs of panic attacks so he knew exactly what to do.

He instructed you to focus on your breathing. He demonstrated on himself, slowly breathing in and out, encouraging you to follow his breaths.

After a few shaky attempts you were able to slow down your breathing, your heart beat slowing down from its erratic pace. You could faintly make out his sharp features through your tears. Although his expression remained calm, his eyes held so much concern.

When you finally calmed down, your eyes widened in realization at what had just happened and you quickly rose to your feet and ran inside the door behind you which happened to be your bedroom. You locked the door, pressing your back against it, sliding down before burying your head in your arms from embarrassment.

Law was taken aback from your quick movements but stood from his crouched position and knocked on your door, calling your name. You remained at your spot, not budging an inch. After a few more knocks, it was quiet and you assumed he finally walked away.

That was until you heard a “Room” and “Shambles” and the book that was on your nightstand was replaced by your captain.

You were startled by his presence, forgetting about your captain’s teleportation powers.

“Y/N-ya, why did you run away from me?” Law questioned, eyebrows furrowed at you.

You sigh, trying to find the words to explain yourself but when you tried to speak it was as if the words were caught in your throat, unable to escape.

Law took notice of your lack of a response and slowly made his way towards you. He perched down and sat next to you on the cold pavement against the door. You two sat in silence for a moment, both trying to find the right words to say to one another.

“Ya know…you can talk to me”

You glanced next to you to see Law’s head down, hat lowered covering his eyes.

“I know I’m just your captain but….I do care about you Y/N-ya” his words were quiet yet soft.

The sincerity in his tone gave you the courage to finally speak.

“I didn’t want…you to see me like that” you admitted, eyes looking everywhere else but the man beside you.

“Why?”

Because I have a huge crush on you.

Because I don’t want you to think that I’m weak.

Because I don’t want to burden you with my issues.

“I just don’t…okay”, you sighed.

If only he knew

Law raised his head to study your features. Your tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes made his heart ache. He knew that there was something plaguing your heart and he wished he could free you from the pain and sadness you must be feeling.

“I used to get those a lot too….when I was younger”, he admitted.

“I had a lot of fucked up things happen when I was a kid. The attacks eventually stopped but i still get night terrors once in a while about my past.”

Your eyes widened in shock at his confession. Your captain was a very private person, you’ve never heard him express his emotions or talk about his past.

You turned your head to look at him, his golden eyes met yours before shyly looking down again. He never opened up to anyone, not even Bepo.

“Thank you for telling me that”, you gave him a small smile. “I’m here for you too, if you need somebody to talk to”

Law raised his head to loom at you, his features had relaxed and he returned your smile.

“I’m supposed to be the one comforting you Y/N-ya” he joked.

This was a side you’ve never seen from Law but it was refreshing, seeing him smile and be less serious.

You giggled at his comment. “You did though, I guess you can say we’re trauma bonding”

He chuckled a bit at your comment. It was a sound you’ve never heard come from your captain, but filled you with butterflies nonetheless.

“Well, you don’t have to feel scared or alone. You’re safe here…with me” he said, peering down at your hand that was an inch away from his tatted one on the ground.

You followed his gaze and decided to do what he had wanted to do but was too scared to. You closed the space between each other’s hands, looping your pinkie with his. His eyes widened slightly, his cheeks getting pink by the sudden action. Despite his surprised expression, he didn’t move his hand away.

Law’s heart felt like it was beating 100 mph. Such a simple act, has gotten him feeling butterflies in his stomach. You sheepishly look at him, feeling your own cheeks heating up. You looked so adorable to him. He couldn’t help his gaze from going to your lips then back up to meet your eyes, almost silently asking you for permission.

You nodded your head, giving him the okay. Law stared at you for a moment before closing the space between you two, pressing his lips against yours for the first time.

His lips felt soft like a warm pillow and you couldn’t help but to sink into him, kissing him back tentatively. You could feel the tickle of his goatee against your chin, the slight sensation of your shared breaths under your nose.

Law gave you one last peck, before breaking the kiss. You both slowly parted away from each other, eyes blinking open. Law lowered his hat, trying to hide his flushed face. You giggle at his shyness, he was so cute and awkward.

“I..erm…should p-probably check on the crew” Law stuttered, rising to his feet.

You nodded, smiling slightly. “Thank you for helping me with my panic attack and our talk…aaand the kiss”

Law looked down at his feet, “I-erm yeah..uh..thank you too…I mean…no problem”

He hastily left your room and you couldn’t help but giggle to yourself at his flustered behavior. Your usually calm and collected captain was a stuttering mess. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, Law’s words replaying in your head.

“You’re safe here….with me”

#trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece fanfiction #op fanfic #law x reader #trafalgar law #law fluff #one piece fluff #op fluff #trafalgar law x y/n #law x y/n #law x you #trafalgar law fanfiction #trafalgar law fluff #law one piece

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lurkingshan · 3 months

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Japanese QL Corner

ICYMI: There are so many Japanese qls airing weekly, so I’m going to start posting this little round up at the end of each week. All but one of these are on Gaga and I highly recommend watching!

Chaser Game W

Fuyu got a personality transplant this week and I have officially given up on this show being what I hoped it was. Enjoy the mess and the humiliation kink and don't look for consistent writing, logical plot, or deeper themes and you will find some things to enjoy. Like these two beautiful ladies making out a bunch!

Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yara ka

I love this show so much, y'all. This week we got the return of Sakae's selfish chaos ex, Mizuki, and because this is a show by and for adults, this resulted in our leads engaging in some proper communication, clarifying their feelings for each other, and sharing their first kiss by the end of the episode. I loved seeing more of Sakae and Mizuki's dynamic, and I just know if Soga wasn't in the picture Mizuki would already be in with Sakae again. Sakae is a soft touch and Mizuki clearly knows how to play him. But thankfully, Soga has already wormed his way into Sakae's loyal heart, so he was not tempted to waver. And for Soga, who is experiencing a queer awakening via his relationship with Sakae, Mizuki's presence was a much needed jolt to sort out his own feelings and decide he wants to try a relationship despite his concerns about not staying in Osaka long-term. I also loved the way their friends rallied around them to push Sakae and Soga to figure their shit out, and the sauna scenes will never get old.

Perfect Propose

It's official, I have adopted Kai as my child and will be forming a protection squad. This show is striking a good tonal balance of being fairly downbeat and serious, between Kai's past and Hiro's current work/life balance issues, but also uplifting in how their relationship builds. I like that they talk to each other so honestly about what they're feeling for each other, and Kai's quiet confidence that Hiro returns his feelings and just needs to come to terms with it is both hilarious and correct. My favorite thing that happened in this episode was Kai confidently noting all the ways Hiro’s body was responding to him and asking him to “be conscious of it.” Kai wants Hiro to be conscious of Kai’s feelings but also of his own responses, and he’s asking him not to look away from it and pretend he doesn’t know there’s something between them. I love the confidence of that.

And I sympathize with Hiro, as well, because it's not just that he's never considered being with a man before--he also just doesn't feel he has anything to offer to a partner right now given his brutal work situation. His guilt and shame for missing the festival after inviting Kai to go together was real, and you can see that he just can’t fathom having anything to give with the situation he’s in at work right now. The trick will be trusting that Kai can accept those limitations until he’s able to find a better balance, and then actually taking steps to pay attention to what he needs and wants, both in this relationship and in his career. Hiro has not been taking care of himself and it's catching up to him.

Ossan's Love Returns

A downbeat week for this show, and an episode that did not entirely work for me. I liked some of the themes they were exploring in this one, but it was all missing the humor that I've come to rely on and I don't feel that all the story threads pulled together as tightly as they normally do. In particular, my head is inquisitively tilted at the show's decision to make Maki and Haruta's wedding episode feel like such a misery slog, to focus primarily on the tension and strife leading up to the event rather than the joy it should inspire, and then to stay in the melancholy after a small moment of catharsis for our couple (and some season 1 flashbacks) by focusing on the sadness their marriage inspired in their various lonely suitors rather than their own wedded bliss. Seeing a wedding in jbl is a practically unheard of occurrence; a bit more queer joy was in order IMO and its absence was notable. I also thought the swing from Kurosawa beginning to accept a new role in Haruta’s life to suddenly going back to being lovelorn felt abrupt and poorly constructed. It's not that I think these ideas are unfounded given the show's focus on older male characters who feel past their prime for romance, but the execution was not quite right. And of course I am not too keen on the death flagging we got at the end for Kurosawa; I really hope the show will not take this story in a tragic direction for him.

Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna 2

I have still only seen the first four episodes of this; sadly, the next batch is not yet available to me. But soon! In the meantime, let's revisit Nomoto sobbing over a lesbian film. She's just like me fr.

Next week we'll be continuing all of these plus adding My Strawberry Film, the final Drama Shower (go here for an explanation on what that is from @bengiyo) show for the season! I continue to be delighted by this embarrassment of jql riches.

#chaser game w #sukiyanen kedo do yaro ka #perfect propose #ossan's love returns #tsukuritai onna to tabetai onna #she loves to cook and she loves to eat #japanese bl #japanese gl #japanese ql corner #shan shouts into the void

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wren-kitchens · 3 months

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i feel like more with you

1270 words

“it’s not just kind, my dear, it’s true.” pixl says deliberately, and scott is blushing even more and honestly, it’s kind of gorgeous. wow, he should have been doing this from the start. scott frowns at him, and- really, it’s basically a pout, which, by all rights, shouldn’t be as endearing as it is. “you’re being unfair.” he says. “i’m being unfair?” pix grins, and scott huffs, laying back down. “how’s that?”

woe, fluffy weather husbands upon ye i blame juno for getting me into them (/silly)

reblogs do more than likes! if u enjoyed please reblog <3

“I don’t know how you do it.” scott says from where he’s laying on his llama—mia, pix thinks it was called.

they’ve been walking for a little while, and pix has to admit, he’s found it a little more difficult to focus on the landscape whilst scott is here than it probably should be. he’s not massively surprised, in all honesty. after all, most of their interactions seem to consist primarily of scott flirting with him relentlessly—and scott is definitely not lacking in that department.

“how I do what?” pix smiles, already knowing what’s coming. it’s flattering, okay? he’s allowed to indulge in the ‘what ifs’ if he so pleases.

scott gives a brief, vague gesture at pix, as if exasperated that he doesn’t already know. “you just walk around like that all the time, and then i’m expected to act as normal?” he scoffs. “it’s ridiculous.”

“you’re too kind.” pix says, mock-gracious even though he kind of means it. pix just had to go and tempt fate by pretending to ignore scott’s offhand flirting and now here he is. it’s fairly ironic, isn’t it?

“I still can’t believe you invited me on this walk,” scott smirks a little, but there’s a note of genuine honesty to it that makes pixl do a mental double take. “as if i’d be able to focus on the view.”

pix huffs a laugh. “I found myself thinking the same thing.” he admits, and all of a sudden, scott freezes.

in fact, scott doesn’t just freeze—he almost falls off his llama, and would have if he hadn’t been able to scramble upwards to grab the reins in time. pix watches with a dawning realisation as scott clears his throat, a pink blush beginning to dust his cheeks. no, does he- no way did pix just make scott blush.

“that- that is kind of you.” scott says, avoiding pix’s gaze.

“it’s not just kind, my dear, it’s true.” pixl says deliberately, and scott is blushing even more and honestly, it’s kind of gorgeous. wow, he should have been doing this from the start.

scott frowns at him, and- really, it’s basically a pout, which, by all rights, shouldn’t be as endearing as it is. “you’re being unfair.” he says.

“i’m being unfair?” pix grins, and scott huffs, laying back down. “how’s that?”

“because you have somehow managed to come away entirely unbothered when- oh, I don’t know, when jimmy would have been reduced to a pile of mush by now.” scott says grumpily, but there’s a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. “that is unfair.”

pix raises an eyebrow, watching as scott follows the action. “you know what I find unfair?” scott nods for him to continue, and pix can’t suppress his smile when he says, “whilst I thought I was foiling your plans, you instead have made me go and fall for you.”

it’s so interesting, how scott has stopped hiding his emotions when pix is around—and so wonderful right now, because pixl can see the exact moment the words process in scott’s mind. “you- no, you’re- you’re having me on.” scott is clearly scrutinising every part of pix’s expression for any sign of deception. “you don’t.” he says, but there’s less confidence and a lot more hope.

“I do.” pix says, grinning at scott’s dumbfounded expression. “you know, I thought you were smarter than this. there are consequences that come from flirting endlessly with someone.”

“believe me, I know that much.” scott says, an almost disbelieving smile playing on his lips. he pulls on mia’s reins, and she comes to a slow stop as scott slips off her back with far more grace than pix thought anyone could manage. “can I ask you something?”

“fire away.” pixl says, a kind of warmth in his chest as he notes the fondness in scott’s eyes.

scott tilts his head ever so slightly to the side, and pix isn’t entirely sure the action was intentional. it’s cute, regardless. “may I kiss you?”

in an instant, it’s as if all the breath has been whisked from pixl’s lungs; all he can do is stare. oh- okay, he did not expect this at all. at best, he assumed scott would tease him about it, and at worst it’d be an uncomfortable walk back, but never this- never did pix think even for a moment that scott might feel the same.

scott is laughing in delight, and pixl registers dimly that he’s finally managed to fluster him. who knew? all scott had to do was mean it.

“are you alright, sweetheart?” scott grins, voice soft, and pix could get used to a lifetime of that pretty soon. “you seem a little surprised.”

“you-“ pix can’t seem to get his words in order. it’s kind of embarrassing actually—no wonder jimmy is so frustrated all the time. “i’m- you like me? like- really?”

“well, I don’t know if you noticed, but you are utterly gorgeous, and you have the most amazing personality.” scott smiles, and pix is blushing, and he might have to change his name and move to the ocean empire. yes, the sunken one. “and, oh, you should see the look on your face when you’re talking about a new artefact you found, or how you completely light up when I ask about the origins of mazelea.”

scott slips his hand into pixl’s, and- void, he looks so incredibly honest. “I will say, I didn’t expect the challenge I set for myself to end up with me falling for you so thoroughly.” he gives a huff of a laugh. “I should have expected it though. i mean, look at you.”

“oh void.” pix steps forward and buries his face in scott’s shoulder, trying to pretend he doesn’t love the way scott laughs at him. “go bother jimmy, why don’t you?”

“you’re prettier.” scott teases. “besides, I haven’t gotten an answer to my question yet.”

it takes pix a lot longer than it probably ought to for him to remember what the question even was in the first place. “what was- oh.” he faces a very pleased looking scott, and- void, pix can’t believe this is how today has turned out. “you- yes. you can.”

scott smiles, and pix feels his own mouth twitch into a shy grin as scott slides his free hand against pixl’s waist, leaning in. “good, because i’ve been imagining this for far too long now.”

pix doesn’t even have time to process that sentence before the gap between them is closed, and he is kissing scott. and- okay, you can’t really.. not hear about the rumours surrounding scott and his kissing abilities, but all of pix heard seemed at least partially exaggerated. after all, there’s no way he could be that good, right?

well- wrong, in fact. scott kisses him sweetly and softly, and pix finds himself melting into it entirely. scott cups his face, rubbing a gentle thumb against his cheek, and pix is leaning into him before he even registers the action. it’s as if scott has been somehow studying pix and calculated the exact way to kiss him in order to get him to cease functioning without even lifting a finger. it’s all pix can do to kiss back, rather than melt into a pile of very happy archaeologist mush.

when they part for breath, scott is smiling that ridiculously beautiful smile, and when they begin to kiss again, it’s pixl who leans in first.

you know what? pix thinks he’s gonna go on walks with scott a lot more often from now on.

#what is it with me and being able to write recently omg #3 oneshots in one week who am I #weather husbands #pixlriffs #scott smajor #empires s2 #empiresshipping #wren writes #empires scott #empires pixlriffs #tags are hard-

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kess-in-the-perthchimzone · 7 months

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In defense of Dangerous Romance

I am genuinely so confused by like 80% of the criticism I have been seeing of Dangerous Romance and since it increasingly has moments it drowns the tag, I felt compelled to take some time to put thoughts to paper in defense of the show. Obviously there is always going to be an extent to which a piece of media just doesn’t work for someone personally, which is totally fine! For example, I will never be obsessed with OF no matter how much I enjoy seeing the gifs on Saturdays, because at my heart I’m a big ole romantic sap and it is REAL MESSY (affectionate).

But there are two things I really don’t understand I’ve seen said about DR —

Feedback about the overall tone of the show — specifically that it wasn’t as dark as expected or that the bully scenes weren’t more dragged out. And the reason this one confuses me is because I feel like people just made up this expectation in their minds?? There were TWO trailers and TWO (now three) music videos about Dangerous Romance and they are absolutely chock full of two boys being obsessed with spending time with each other — smiling at each other, giving each other cheek kisses, holding hands, etc. Did people not watch those? It’s not really fair to say that a show isn’t what you thought it would be when the show pretty accurately so far told you exactly what it would be.

Complaints about the B plot being prioritized right now. Let me explain this one a bit. To use a very familiar example, there’s been a lot of discussion this week comparing Bad Buddy and DR. Bad Buddy had two major plot points: the conflict with the friends, which was prioritized in the first half of the show, because it was lighter and more prone to shenanigans; and then the conflict with the families, which ripped our fucking hearts out.

Right now, Kang is yes, getting a little more development (the B plot). But here’s the thing — he had to develop for Sailom to be able to be with him. He had to start growing and changing as a person for that to be possible. And at the end of the day we are watching a BL — where the end goal is for the two main characters (because there are two) to end up together.

I also find some of the criticism of Kang’s storyline to be inadvertently condescending towards Sailom. Because while the show has Kang saving Sailom repeatedly via external actions (primarily getting him money), Sailom is also doing the same to Kang. But his saving is internal, so less visible. Kang would have continued to drown in his own misery and anger and cruelty if weren’t for all of Sailom’s interventions. To me, Sailom is the hero in Kang’s story.

It seems pretty undeniable to me that Sailom’s story is going to become the significant focus in the back half of the show. Going back to the trailers, we know we’re going to see Saifah get arrested, Sailom returning to escorting, and Sailom getting held hostage (not sure this is quite the right word) just to name a few.

All of these are focused on Sailom. All of them are either directly tied to his poverty or will have repercussions on his financial situation. Yes, Kang is present for many of these moments that we’ve seen, but he is the second love interest in the show?? So I would be pretty freaking disappointed if he wasn’t.

If at the end of these 12 episodes all that happened is Kang played the rescuer over and over, then becoming Sailom’s sugar daddy, I will join people in critiquing the plot. But I’m willing to be patient because I believe they are going somewhere and I think it’s going to lead to a beautiful payoff.

But right now, as fun as it is as a plot device, DR is showing us pretty clearly that the way Sailom is financially dependent on Kang’s family is NOT healthy for them long-term, despite the ways has allowed them to bond and develop feelings (exhibit #1: Sailom having to ask permission to go home to sleep the night Kang rejected his confession). What will matter is if Dangerous Romance will allow them to meet on equal footing at the end - to not have Sailom be reliant on Kang, but instead be a more equal partner (who can still be allowed to occasionally enjoy what Kang might want to give him).

This is (hopefully) ultimately a love story about two people from very different backgrounds who will make things work despite all odds and I, for one, am so excited to be on this ride.

#dangerous romance #dangerous romance the series #meta meta meta #kess babbles about dangerous romance

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bestworstcase · 8 months

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Hello! I’ve enjoyed reading your rwby analysis posts, especially the things you’ve had to say about Penny. The amount of care you put into thinking and writing about her is great. I’m curious what you thought about Penny getting turned into a human, because… I personally really didn’t like it. It just really hurt me that after she was attacked repeatedly because she was built differently, that the solution to that was to remove everything which was different/unique about her and make her “normal.” And then have the actual physical representation of her differences violently die and then be obliterated like they were some horrible, hideous thing.

A good chunk of her story seemed to revolve around being just as much a person as anyone else even though she had a body that worked differently. And I sure did relate to that irl! But then turning Penny human seemed to send the message that Penny could only actually be a full and happy person (such as immediately discovering how wonderful hugs feel) if she was normal. I want to believe I’m taking that scene the wrong way, but… I’m not sure how else I can interpret what happened. So yeah, I’m curious what you think! I’ll be interested to read your thoughts, whatever they may be.

ooh, well, i’m not keen on the way the fandom writ large interprets the scene (as ‘penny became human’/‘penny became real’) and i like how it was done because imo it is really NOT framed as a positive transformation?

there’s an element of relief and joy to it of course—because everyone’s glad that penny survived this ordeal with the virus—but, as you say, the self-destruction of her robotic body is a big focal point of the scene and it is done in a very horrifying way, with the camera moving between penny’s POV as she watches it happen and her robotic body’s POV as it desperately tries to reach her before succumbing to the virus. and penny herself is profoundly disturbed by the experience—she’s not happy to be ‘free’ of that body at all, and ruby hesitantly asks if she’s alright because penny clearly isn’t.

so while penny does then find a small thing to appreciate about her new flesh body and that momentarily alleviates the horror… the tone is very much set by the amount of focus given to penny watching a part of herself die and, after that small burst of joyous relief, watching her old body crumble into ash and flinching away with horror again.

to me, this reads as a rebuke of how flippant yang was about the loss—“the mechanical parts are just extra,” except penny’s body isn’t truly equivalent to a prosthetic, right? that’s just her body.

it’s not all she is, but it’s also a lot more like the arm yang lost than it is like the prosthetic yang got afterwards. penny loses a core part of her identity…

…which is reinforced later, inside the portal, when penny is taken off guard by the abrupt realization that she no longer has floating array. weapons are a fundamental part of huntsmen identity, seen and understood as “extensions of our selves,” and penny’s is literally destroyed by her involuntary transformation—involuntary in the sense that it’s a choice she was forced to make under extreme duress thanks to watts—and she has to recreate that piece of herself with magic.

and there’s smaller, subtler things wrong, too. i think the amount of focus put on her bare feet is meant to highlight that she does not have thrusters any more—an essential aspect of her natural mobility is just gone, again leaving her dependent on the maiden powers to do something she used to be able to just DO.

or consider how disoriented she seems right before cinder gets her. in her original body, penny had sophisticated tactical software built into her sensory array which among other things made her virtually immune to emerald’s semblance. she could see infrared light and aura and the tactical analysis program worked much, much faster than any human could keep up with—because her physical brain was a computer! and then she loses that and spends the entire fight mainly getting clobbered and then struggles to keep track of what’s even happening when cinder gates her off from her allies!

her new body is healthy and whole by human standards, but measured against what penny had before… the narrative gives, like, a LOT of attention to signaling that penny has been measurably disabled in a multitude of ways. if she wasn’t also the winter maiden—& bear in mind that penny only became the winter maiden BECAUSE of what her original robotic body could do!—penny would have been rendered utterly helpless by this transformation. no weapon, no flying, in a much more fragile and vulnerable body that could feel pain. (think about how much screaming she does during that final fight, compared to the time she gets flung several blocks by a grimm so hard there’s an impact crater and she’s like “ouch! :)” about it)

and obv, that fragile new body is the only reason cinder was able to kill her at all. i think that’s sort of the point: penny did the equivalent of *barely* surviving a debilitating illness, went from her sickbed to a battlefield, tried to fight like that, and died because she in a state of extreme physical vulnerability due to recent illness. that’s why all of her friends were so insistent that she not participate in the fight—she wasn’t ready to be fighting! if she’d lived, she would have needed to spend quite a long time recovering, learning and accepting her new limitations, and training within those new limits.

so, to me? the narrative framing of the transformation feels somber, with “she lived! it worked!” being the silver lining on what is otherwise a tragic outcome. watts infected her with this brutal, horrific virus and the only way to save her life was to sacrifice a fundamental part of her self, in this acutely traumatizing way. i think the fandom collectively sort of tunnel visioned on the pinocchio narrative of ‘becoming a real girl’* to such a degree that the bittersweet framing and the underlying horror of what happened to her gets widely overlooked. and i don’t think those tragic/horrific notes are there by accident—the narrative puts quite a lot of emphasis on them, and deliberately bookends the joy of “do hugs always make you feel this warm?” with those moments of intense horror with the violent death and then destruction of her robotic body.

(*something that… really isn’t a prominent theme with penny?, because her struggle with personhood is centered on how *other people* treat her like an object and i would argue her pinocchio ‘becoming a real boy’ moment is actually her acceptance of the maiden power—not because that ‘proves’ she’s a person or whatever, but because it’s a moment of emotional self-actualization where she chooses to do the right thing according to her own judgment instead of mindlessly following orders like the puppet ironwood expects her to be. it’s symbolic! & that gets called back to explicitly by winter, later, with “you were *always* the real maiden, i was the machine,” the ‘realness’ in the pinocchio narrative here is about emotional authenticity and refusal to sacrifice conscience or heart in the name of following orders.

rwby is… pretty profoundly uninterested in the question of ‘does the robot girl count as a person?’ because it answers that within literal seconds after revealing that she is a robot with an emphatic ‘yes, obviously, she has a soul, zero ambiguity here’ lmao. what it does do is leverage pinocchio to explore themes of dehumanization and personhood within an authoritarian military regime.)

so yeah, that’s how i read that. it’s joyous because she lives but it’s also not a victory earned without grievous loss, and the tragedy is exacerbated because she *does not have time* to catch her breath / process / learn how to live in her new, disabled body before cinder… cinders.

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lithopus · 2 months

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For the ask game! 1! Who is your favorite character to write for and is this the character you find easiest to write for?

Thank you for the ask!

I guess for fanfiction, I pretty much only write Alhaitham and Kaveh’s POVs—although, actually, I’ve also written two (unposted, sfw) fics for my friends that contained Xingqiu’s POV, and he’s really fun to write for 😂 Now that I think about it, he’s probably the easiest perspective I’ve written. I enjoy his chivalrous and overdramatic way of speaking/narrating, and the guy is such a simp for Chongyun that it cracks me up. I definitely have a lot of fun writing him.

But, going back to Alhaitham and Kaveh…it’s difficult for me to choose! I like writing both of their perspectives for different reasons, and both of them are easy to write in some ways and challenging in others.

I’ll answer the question about whose POV is easiest first.

Technically, it’s Alhaitham’s—his way of thinking is a lot more accessible to me, whereas I sometimes struggle to relate to Kaveh’s perspective on things. It’s kind of similar to how Alhaitham “knows” Kaveh’s philosophies on a theoretical level, but doesn’t emotionally “understand” them the way that someone who personally shares Kaveh’s beliefs would. I more or less know how Kaveh’s mind works, but since I don’t usually approach things the way he does, his attitudes and ideals sometimes aren’t personally familiar to me. There are times when my brain has to work a bit harder to figure out how he views the world.

Because of that, though, I think that it might be easier—counterintuitively—for me to write stories from Kaveh’s perspective. Since I “understand” Alhaitham more, I can more easily convey what he’s thinking/feeling whenever I’m outside his head. Conversely, being inside Kaveh’s head allows me to get a closer look at how he’s processing things, which then makes it easier for me to work through his thoughts and figure out how to portray him.

So, Alhaitham’s POV is the easier perspective for me to write, in a vacuum…but if I’m writing a story about him and Kaveh, writing from Kaveh’s POV often makes things easier for me.

As for my favorite POV to write…if I had to choose a perspective to be stuck in, I think I’d choose Alhaitham’s. I love the unspoken depth of his love for Kaveh—like, his devotion is clear even from Kaveh’s POV, but being inside Alhaitham’s mind lets us see just how much he cares, even though he often hides it behind his sarcastic/detached attitude. I like being able to explore that side of him; it’s kind of like “looking behind the curtain” in the sense that we still see Alhaitham’s usual attitude with the way he speaks and acts, but we also see the contrasting tenderness he feels toward Kaveh (although, when I write him, Alhaitham’s narration does often try to bury that tenderness, lol).

That said, I do also like the idea of leaving Alhaitham’s unspoken affection…well, y’know, unspoken—so, being stuck in Alhaitham’s POV all the time wouldn’t be ideal for me.

It’s also interesting to get inside Alhaitham’s head and dismantle the “rational” barriers that he constructs around some things. That is, he’s clearly capable of caring deeply about certain things—like Kaveh—and I love writing about that kind of quiet intensity. And while I do believe that he’s the calm, logical person we see in canon, I also know that he can’t be invulnerable; he’s human, which means he’s capable of being hurt, and I like seeing how he processes those types of emotions.

But there are things that I enjoy about writing Kaveh’s perspective, too. For example, Kaveh’s artistry and ways of thinking give me more opportunities to be poetic with narration. When I’m writing Alhaitham’s POV, his analogies are usually more practical and functional; they tend to focus solely on explaining a concept, so while they might be creative sometimes, they won’t necessarily sound pretty. With Kaveh, though, I can let loose and be more indulgent with metaphors/imagery to explore a feeling or concept. I haven’t written poetry in a while, but his perspective gives me more room to flex those muscles, lol.

Kaveh’s perspective is also more straightforward, at least for me. Yes, he’s got a lot going on, and his psychology can get complicated at times—but he’s pretty much told us about all of his problems either through dialogue or his character stories, and we’ve seen him when he’s excited, happy, morose, angry, et cetera; he tends to acknowledge his feelings in a more “head-on” way, even when he’s trying to avoid his problems or downplay his emotions. So, I like that he’s a more “direct” kind of character, as opposed to the mental gymnastics Alhaitham performs in order to seem like An Incredibly Chill And Totally Unemotional Guy Who Is Never Bothered By Anything Ever.

(Now that I say that, it’s kind of funny that we joke about Kaveh’s mental acrobatics to misinterpret the things Alhaitham says, when Alhaitham is an Olympic gymnast in his own right 😂)

That’s my main answer, but I do have some additional thoughts about why writing Alhaitham’s POV can sometimes be a challenge for me. I’ll include those thoughts in a reblog, though, since I don’t want my response here to get too lengthy.

UPDATE: my additional thoughts are in this reblog

#ask #answered #hkvthm

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idontknowreallywhy · 5 months

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A Part of Her

For various reasons (train strikes etc) I haven’t done a commute fic (where I just thrash something out in a linear form and don’t obsessively edit it later) for a while, but a little idea occurred to me today so here is a hurried lunch-break fic…

What do we call these two? Was it Astro Turf?

Whatever, a bit of Allie and Virg…

🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵

“Virg?”

“What’s up, Allie?”

His little brother had drifted across the room and was slowly running his hand along the edge of the piano lid watching the hammers rise and fall as Virgil played. He’d not said anything for a while and not wanting him to believe his presence was unwelcome, Virgil had just smiled at him and waited for whatever was coming. When he eventually spoke, Alan’s voice was steeped in uncertainly.

“This was… Mom’s, right?”

“Yes Allie it was. We had it shipped over when we moved here.”

Alan nodded and was quiet again for a while. Clearly something was brewing. Virgil shifted from the concerto he was niggling at into a slightly sparser, atmospheric piece which gave more space and time for any words that might be coming.

“She… played a lot?”

“Pretty much every moment she got. More than me I think.”

“Why do you play so much?”

“Why do I play?”

Virgil paused to consider, looking down at his hands as he ran a couple of gentle arpeggios through a series of chords. There was a lot more behind that question than there appeared and he needed to choose his answer carefully.

“Firstly, because I enjoy it, I like the music I create and I like the fact it’s something I’m creating, even if it goes a bit wonky.”

Alan nodded, blue eyes met his with very deliberate focus. He was clearly concentrating on every word Virgil said.

“Secondly, because you guys enjoy it. I like being able to help Scott relax, or Gordon laugh… or cheer you up sometimes.”

Another nod. Virgil stopped playing a moment and rested his fingers over the black notes.

“Um, I also often play to try and process how I feel about things. Sometimes it’s hard to put the difficult stuff into words but…” he played a series of chords around D minor and then coughed and reverted back to a slightly cheerier key as he noticed Alan try to cover up rubbing at his eye by scratching his nose.

“Then I guess the final one is… it helps me feel close to her, to Mom. I imagine her hands on the keys, making the same sounds and I feel like a part of her is still with me.”

Alan closed his eyes and whispered something hurriedly. Virgil leaned over to put his right hand over his brother’s left where he held the side of the instrument in a vice grip.

“I didn’t quite catch that Allie?”

He opened his eyes and looked Virgil full in the face again, eyes wide. “Can you teach me?”

Virgil knew his expression must have betrayed his surprise as his baby brother rushed on hurriedly.

“I know you did before when I was a kid and I sucked, I didn’t try very hard or practise because I didn’t get it. I didn’t get what it meant. And I’m probably still going to suck at it Virgil, I know that.”

Alan swallowed hard.

“But I want to try because maybe, maybe there is a part of her inside me too and if there is I want to find it.”

Virgil pulled gently on the young man’s hand and guided him around to perch next to him on the stool and wrapped him in his arms.

“She’s in your every cell, your every breath, Alan. And she would be so proud of you.”

Alan sniffed and tightened his grip on Virgil’s shirt. Virgil unpeeled his little brother’s fingers from the flannel and guided his right hand to rest on the keyboard.

“If you want to play it would be a privilege to teach you, but you need never doubt she is a part of you Alan.”

Alan twisted and placed his left hand on the keys alongside his right.

“Show me. Please?”

🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #alan tracy #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #commute fic #music is everything #piano!virgil #lucy tracy #is there such a thing as slightly sad fluff?#Thunderfluff #Sad fluff?

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soracities · 8 months

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hii sorry for sliding this in ur asks (u can totally not answer it if u don’t want to) i think i’m madly in love w a girl but we have gone on only two dates and idk if i’m rushing things a bit, but i have a strong feeling that she might be the one. the way i absolutely can’t stop thinking about her in my waking and sleeping hours, this is literally tearing me apart idk what to do about it — do u have any advice? pls help me if u can, really appreciate it <33

sweet anon you are both in the PR stage you're in love with an idea right now, not a person--not saying you do not genuinely like her but you do not know each other enough to have a grasp of her as a person, you only know how she makes you feel and all these feelings are a response to something from within you: they are hopes and projections fuelled by excitement and maybe a dash of novelty which is very common (and normal, we've all been there) but they can create a bit of a smokescreen that makes it harder to look at your situation clearly, if that makes sense.

i think it will be helpful to try and pause for a bit to ask yourself where those feelings are coming from and what they are in response to-- what exactly is it she gives you that you have not had before? what is her presence representing for you? why is this so important to you? when you are thinking about her constantly, what exactly are those thoughts about? are they in the here and now, or an imagined future? are they based on anything solid she has said or done, or are they more your own daydreams and hopes taking centre stage? is there anything in your life that you feel is lacking or empty and that these feelings are a welcome distraction from?

again, absolutely not dismissing your feelings here but i think it's very easy sometimes to let the excitement of finding someone we like (and who likes us back) run away with us sometimes. at this stage, because it is so early, and because you don't know someone enough they are, essentially, kind of a blank slate for you to pin your own feelings and hopes to--as i said, everyone goes through this at some point, but it's important to try and maintain awareness of this so that you are able to be attentive to the other person as a person, and yourself, too, in a way that is fair to the both of you and allows you to express yourselves, and meet each other, openly and honestly. most realisations we have about a person in these scenarios first require us to know that person for themselves--and this takes time.

i think it's important, right now, that you allow yourself to keep busy and remain active in your life outside of your dates and conversations with the girl you're seeing--not saying to ignore her at all, but to make sure you have other lines of focus too and not to neglect whatever you enjoyed doing, or the other relationships, activities etc that you had before her: keep in touch and meet up with your friends often, or set little goals for yourself during the week--eg., "i'll get in an hour at the gym on thursday" "i'll go for a swim" "i'll try this new restaurant with a friend" "i'll go to the cinema to see xyz" "i'm going to try and make this recipe for lunch / dinner / dessert" etc.

forcing yourself not to think about someone is borderline impossible and is only going to make them an even more powerful presence in your mind (trying not to think about something requires, by definition, that you do think about them which makes for a fabulously frustrating circle) so the best thing to do is to limit how much free time you actually have to do that thinking in--this way your brain is occupied enough that it cannot spend as long fantasising and YOU can stay relatively sane.

i hope your interactions with this girl go well, anon, and i hope that as much as you can, you're able to check in with yourself and understand how you're feeling so you can put everything into a more intentional and aware framework for yourself as your feelings evolve. hope this helps even just a little, sending you lots of love (and support!!) 🤍

#ask #anonymous #notes from elsewhere

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alexanderlightweight · 1 year

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hello! can you share the name/link of that fanfiction you mentioned where alec is the institute?

omg I am so, so sorry I have not finished writing it yet. i dont even have a name it's Insitute!alec in my drives. It was actually one of the projects I was working on before i had to take a hiatus for health etc and i was just talking about it

but i did not make that clear so here!! my reply took a while cause I finished a few prompts and then i went and finished the first chapter just for you! because i do love this fic and i'm so excited someone is interested in it!

so first chapter of my unnamed Alec is the Institute fic (you're not actually supposed to know that yet so it's written kind of sneaky).

Raphael sits in the basement cells of the New York Institute, he shivers despite the fact that he can’t actually feel the cold. He knew it was a risk to bring Simon’s body here to the Institute. But while he is limited in his power to act directly against Camille, he had felt it his duty to deliver the mundane boy’s body to his friends.

And if, it eased his mind a bit, that Simon’s nephilim friend Clary would be there to comfort Simon’s mother, then that was a boon for him alone. To know that at least one mother did not have to mourn in confused pain the disappearance of her son.

Raphael closes his eyes, stretching out his senses only to hit the chilled wards of angelic magic that hiss against him. It is strange, to be so cut off from the world, but despite the danger involved it is an almost relaxing sensation. To be cut off from all his extra senses and just exist for a moment. True, he would enjoy it more if the fear of angelic torture didn’t linger over his head, but Raphael takes what he can, where he can.

It’s therefore a shock to him, to open his eyes and see a figure watching him. The cell he is in is brightly lit, but the halls around it are dim with shadows and it takes a moment for him to focus.

He’s tall, the shadowhunter who watches him. Tall and broad with dark features that watch him with a relaxed air.

This one is more dangerous, Raphael realizes, than any of the other nephilim he’d met that day.

“Downworlder magic is an interesting thing,” the shadowhunter says, without introduction or warning. “Nephilim magic is more limited, requiring blessed conduits to be of use. Warlocks however, their abilities are only limited by their individual knowledge and power.”

Raphael stays silent, wondering exactly where the shadowhunter is going with this.

“The High Warlock of Brooklyn put my wards up himself, a beautiful piece of magic.” The shadowhunter continues, “New York has one of the most defensible Institutes in the world. The only fault I’ve ever found with Bane’s work is his tendency to sign it.” The man takes another step forward and Raphael sees the vibrant blue lines of angelic power, active in his eyes. “Imagine my surprise when I read through the reports only to find that not only do we have a guest, but one who is very clearly under the High Warlock’s protection.”

Raphael stiffens. That is... the shadowhunter is not wrong. But that is a secret. Nephilim shouldn’t be able to see that, regardless of what runes the man has active.

There is a wry, almost exasperated curl of the shadowhunter’s lip, “sadly, I was less surprised to see that not only were you not processed but that there is absolutely no crime you have committed that warranted you being thrown in here.”

“The mundane—” Raphael starts, before pursing his lips. He hardly wants to give the man a reason to keep him there.

“You were not the one who killed him. You were the one who brought his body back. It’s a rare thing, even my shadowhunters wouldn’t have risked such a deed on enemy territory.” The shadowhunter pauses and looks him over, “it’s an honorable deed and my people have reacted with dishonor.”

“Your people?” Raphael asks warily as the shadowhunter

“Alec Lightwood, I’m their Commander. I’ll be punishing them all, they had no jurisdiction and no permission.” And Lightwood has a stele out, one that he’s using to unlock Raphael’s cell doors.

No alarms ring, no wards come on. No shadowhunters popping out to accuse him of escape. The halls are eerily empty as he’s like deep underground and to a tunnel. Lightwood is fearless, back easily turned and Raphael feels fear at how casual he is. Sometimes it feels as if the walls and the very floors they are walking on are shifting, changing where they’re going.

And then he’s being led up and up again and a small door opens and Raphael stares. He’s at the boundary line of the Institute, far away from the entrance and closest to the direction of the Hotel Dumort.

It’s a straight shot from here, more than enough for him to get back in time for the sun and without seeing a single of the ungrateful shadowhunters who had locked him up.

Raphael doesn’t say thank you. Lightwood was right, his shadowhunters acted dishonorably and what Raphael did was dangerous for himself. He does stop though and nod, just a quick little flash of a thing and then he’s gone.

—

Alec sighs as he watches the vampire leave. This is going to cause problems, the least of which will be Isabelle, Jace and their new pet project. He sighs again, shaking his head as he shuts and bars the door, watching it meld back into stone. The way will close behind Santiago, as though it never existed. He doubts the vampire would be so crass as to try and betray Alec by exposing the passage, but there is no need to be careless.

With that in mind he prepares himself, mentally going through the reports — and the lack of reports — from the last few days.

Clary Fray is a disaster.

He would be lenient except she has now expressly betrayed everything the Institute stands for, as well as put the lives of his shadowhunters in jeopardy. Both with the downworld and with the clave.

Raphael Santaigo had done them a boon. To shackle him away was a disservice to both his actions and the future. It is a relief that Alec caught it in time and eased the situation.

Now, to deal with the mundane.

It is worse than he’d thought.

The mundane is buried, a chance at a new life as one of the undead. Alec doesn’t have a problem with this, except for the fact that they’ve effectively chased off the only vampiric mentor they’d had around. Or perhaps the plan was to keep him locked up until they needed him.

It takes him a moment to reign in his anger and then he’s effectively cutting off whatever sentiment he holds for Jace and Isabelle. He allows himself a certain amount of it, a degree of emotionality that most would consider extreme for someone of his capabilities.

Now he gathers his power, wields his authority like a gavel and summons them. All of them and he puts them each in an isolation cell, where they will stay long past when Fray’s friend will be reborn.

Fray has no defense against his orders, especially not when Jace and Isabelle bend to his will.

They don’t like it, but they heed it. They have no other choice.

It won’t take much longer for Alec to be done with them and they know it. If Alec decides to ship their asses to Idris or even to Wrangle Isle, then it will happen. It’s something Fray has yet to learn but Alec doesn’t care if it makes him cruel, one more mistake and he’ll beat her down in front of the whole Institute.

Again and again, until the lesson takes or he sends whats left of her to the clave to deal with.

It takes him longer than he likes to decide what to do next about the body buried and waiting to crawl out, what route to take. When he finally decides hours later, he finds himself settled against the cold stone of a grave and wonders just how he ended up here.

Decades of life and yet still he finds himself unprepared for surprises such as this. His duty is to his shadowhunters. His power is finite beyond the territory of his walls and while he considers it part of his pact to maintain — at the very least — a good relationship with the downworld, this goes beyond that.

It’s been years since he’s had to put himself in a place of vulnerability, of dealing with outside forces that he doesn’t quite understand.

He hopes this is worth it.

“Lightwood,” Santiago’s voice comes from the shadows and Alec merely nods his head. He was aware the moment the vampire crossed the boundary.

“If he transitions, it may be more violent than you’re used to.” Is all he says, the vampire steps closer, into the glow of the streetlamp and Alec notes he already looks better. He’s fed then.

Good.

He’s going to need all his strength to deal with a fledgling, especially one in the throes of madness.

“I’ve handled newborns before.” Santiago’s voice is calm but wary, he doesn’t like this. Coming back to this place or seeing Alec again and Alec doesn’t blame him.

“And yet, I doubt you’ve ever had to deal with one like this. Most people are smart enough not to create a cradle for a fledgling in hallowed ground. His mind will be open, a raw wound and the consecrated and angelic power of this place won’t help. You’ll need to be fast and careful.”

Santiago seems to take his words into due consideration before he nods and steps even closer, crouching to run his fingers through the fresh dirt of Simon’s grave. Alec watches unblinking as the man gathers up a handful of the dirt and seals it into a small box. He says nothing, Santiago doesn’t either.

Dawn approaches, a danger to the soft glow of warmth that he knows will soon come and Alec steps back as the fledgling crawls from his death-womb and arises into a new life.

His old one is dead.

—

Raphael murmurs prayers and curses alike under his breath as he wrestles with Simon.

The shadowhunter was right.

Simon is unlike any newborn he’s ever helped birth. He’s feral and incandescent in his raw agony. He’s screaming not from hunger but from pain and Raphael pales even further than his corpse pallor when he realizes what Lightwood meant. Simon was buried in blessed ground, on the lines of an angelic core and he is suffering from the agony of being tortured as he was born.

“Help me!” Raphael demands without meaning to. He’s furious at himself for thinking a group of barely adult shadowhunter could properly take care of this. He can’t believe who he thought was Simon’s friend would do this to him. To put him through this kind of agony.

Simon is torn away from him, which isn’t what he meant and he feels a rush of fear before he realizes that there is calm.

Simon hangs limp but awake if not aware, terrified and trembling even though his heart doesn’t beat and his blood doesn’t flow.

He’s not trying to bite Lightwood at all.

Instead he’s got his mouth clamped shut so tight that not a fang pokes out.

“I suggest feeding him like this.” Lightwood says, calm and collected like he didn’t just subdue a newborn feral fledgeling with what is basically a hug.

Lightwood’s got Simon trapped to his chest, his arms wrapped tight so that Simon can’t use his own arms.

But Simon could kick and thrash or bite, but he’s not doing any of those things. So Raphael approaches slowly and he carefully opens a bottle instead of a pack. Simon’s eyes light up with hunger but he doesn’t move, not a fang peeks out.

And Raphael realizes with horrified terror that Simon has reverted to nothing but instincts.

And currently, he is more afraid of the man holding him than his instincts can handle. Raphael carefully feeds Simon, barely able to get his mouth open and while he drinks greedily, eagerly and ravenously... he is still. He makes no noises, no growls or hisses, no lunging for the blood. Just trembling as he drinks and when Raphael deems him full enough, Lightwood drops him without warning and takes five steps back.

Simon lunges for Raphael and Raphael readies himself to finally fight, except Simon is already behind him, hands curled into Raphael’s jacket and still trembling.

“What is he?” Simon asks, whisper-soft and from their brief interactions, Raphael hadn’t thought Simon knew how to whisper.

“A shadowhunter.” Raphael says because Simon has met shadowhunters before, just not while a vampire.

Simon looks even more terrified.

“You went up against a group of those guys, willingly?” he babbles, clearly in a panic and still consumed by fear. “Are you insane? I mean, I know Camille is but I didn’t think you were. How can you handle it, the way he feels? He smells so good but I couldn’t even think about it. Like if I tried, I’d be dead again. For good this time.”

Raphael doesn’t know what to say. Because that’s even stranger, that Simon felt such a great fear of Lightwood that he ignored the divine scent of angelic blood. Raphael had thought that maybe being born on the Institute land had made Simon immune to the song of nephilim blood.

Lightwood is watching them and Raphael suddenly feels like prey.

“You need to leave.” They’re told, but it’s not a threat and Raphael realizes with terror that this is taking longer than he thought and it’s too near dawn. “Go here, there’s nothing much there but it will be dark and secure. My part is done here, he’s your problem now.”

“Wait, where’s Clary?” Simon is asking, “why, how am I a vampire? What’s even going on?”

Lightwood gives them both an unimpressed look and turns to Raphael and just says, “go.”

And Raphael goes, dragging Simon with him as he flees the coming sun and the cold, inhuman look in Lightwood’s eyes. It’s never been more clear to him than in that moment that nephilim are truly, only half human.

#lumine writes #lumine talks to ppl #institute alec au #shadowhunters #malec #raphael santiago #alec lightwood #alec lightwood is the institute #lumine rants about words #my fics #my fanfics #my ficlets #shadowhunters au

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indiaalphawhiskey · 6 months

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Hi, India!!

I’m writing my first fic for a fest and I was so excited about it. But I reread what I wrote so far and it’s just soooo bad 😭 I can’t think of anyone reading it, specially because english is not my first language and I fear my writing is not natural or fluid enough.

Do you have any advice on how can I take my mind out of this though and just write for pleasure as I used to? 🥲

Hey, love 💕

I’m sorry this took me awhile to answer. (I’m also not the most eloquent right now, I’m sorry.) Honestly, it’s a little funny that you chose to ask me this question, because I’m notorious for being very, very in my head about my writing and being consistent about quality.

To be fair to that, and to you, I’m going to try and give you a handful of answers, from different perspectives. They can be taken together or separately or not at all, whatever suits.

First, most importantly, and most pragmatically:

1. Get a beta you trust.

I know the face of this fandom has changed, I know content creation has dwindled and that less and less people are able to support writers this way, but honestly, for me, this is more important than almost anything about the writing process, and especially so if you’re writing in your second, third, fourth language. There are just too many nuances to language and verbiage, and it helps so much for someone to say “I know what you meant here, but it doesn’t read like that.”

(I don’t believe in ever letting my work go unbeta-ed, no matter how confident I feel in the raw work or the language, because of course I know what I meant to say — I’m the writer. I need some to firmly (but kindly) check that the audience understands it as well.)

Betas also help in terms of managing self-criticism, because being hard on yourself is just not always something you can change, especially if you care about the story and skill-building. A good beta will help by either saying “it’s not bad, you’ve just read it too often, put it down” or “why do you think it’s bad exactly” and help you improve it.

Second, on the concept of writing for pleasure:

2. Just because something is hard doesn’t mean it’s not fun.

People often mistake “fun” for “easy”; I don’t think it’s the same. I think when you enjoy something and are passionate about it, it’s going to cost you and force you to push yourself. There’s no such thing as “low-stakes passion”, that’s just incongruous. (Marathon runners don’t keep running races that are easy for them. They progress because they like it — process, challenges, rewards, everything.)

Similarly, you clearly write because you love it. But if you’re getting to the point where you’re cognizant enough to be self-critical, that means you’re improving. It means there are things you want to convey that your skill doesn’t allow you to yet.

Hold on to that, because that’s motivation. It means that you love something enough that you’re consumed with doing it justice. That tension is not a bad thing; that’s where a hobby turns into a passion and the solution is not about regressing back to something low-stakes — it’s about finding out how to bridge the gap between your skill and your ambition.

And third, focused on the output:

3. Focus on how much you want your story to exist.

Most of the time, writing is a long game. It’s about consistency and effort and focus and discipline, and all of those things are tiring as fuck.

It’s so much easier to bang out a drabble and get the validation, and move onto the next “fun” idea. And that’s totally fine, except for when you want this particular story to exist this particular way.

I’ve found that’s the only thing that pushes me to stay motivated and devoted to writing — the thought that I just want this story to exist and I don’t want to live in a world where it doesn’t.

My boss always says this thing: “let the content lead”, and I think that’s true of writing. If you’re focused on weaving this idea into something tangible, if that’s mainly what drives you, the relationship stays between you and the story (not the story and it’s external reception) and that can alleviate the pressure a lot, because you shift into writing to fulfill an internal goal, and as long as that story exists, you’ve achieved that.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think all of your concerns are valid. You have a very practical issue: the language barrier, that needs a very practical solution: a beta. But you’re also hitting a moment of growth in terms of your writing, and I don’t want you to look at that hurdle and assume it means you need to turn around. Things can be hard and also fun, and I wouldn’t want the fandom to miss out on this version of this story that can only be written by you just because you’ve outgrown your current skill set.

Lastly, and I think this is really important: remember that this is never going to be your last fic. So if it’s not perfect — if it’s not exactly the way you want it to be at the end — write another one that’s better, and another, and another. There’s room in this fandom for every version of you as a writer, and your chances to improve and represent yourself better are infinite. Write what you can write now, and then write something better later. 🩷

#iaw ask #iaw anonymous #writing thoughts #writing for fun

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spine-buster · 2 years

Text

That Which We Are, We Are | Nathan MacKinnon | Prologue

A/N: HERE IT IS!!!!! I’ve been waiting so long to post this and I’m SO excited to get this story going! Though it’s only the prologue, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Nathan MacKinnon would rather be in Halifax than anywhere else in the world, but at this particular moment, he would have rather been playing in the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

That dream was clearly not meant to be this year. Despite a strong showing and a hard-fought effort, he couldn’t get it done. He blamed a lot of the failures on himself. Though he was part of a team – a very good team, filled with friends and mentors and guys he considered his brothers through the ups, downs, and battles they faced together – the pressure he put on himself was immense. Because of this, he thought it was his responsibility, and his alone, to get it done. To advance in the playoffs. To get over the hurdle of the second round, which it seemed his team was perennially stuck in. Alas, he came short. As was the story nowadays. The Colorado Avalanche couldn’t get it done. Nathan MacKinnon couldn’t get it done.

Being back in Halifax was always his favourite part of the year, because he loved his hometown and city with all his heart. But this time around, things stung a little bit more. Things hurt. Not anything to do with the city – the city was beautiful, and in the summer, it was even better. Mentally, things hurt. The mental weight of not being able to get it done lay heavy on his chest and in his mind. It started the second his flight landed. It continued as he passed through customs, got into a taxi to his parents’ house, and walked through their door. It continued as he woke up in his childhood bedroom the next morning, got into his Range Rover, and drove to his house on Shubenacadie Grand Lake. It continued as he stood in his house, alone with his own thoughts and deafening silence, not knowing what to do with himself.

There was only so much he could do. Plus, he could only wallow for so long until he became a caricature. It would be on the back of his mind the entire summer, until he got back to training camp and his mind reset – he knew that. But he also knew he needed to find happiness somewhere. An equal balance. Something to focus on other than hockey and his shortcomings.

It would be hard.

Hockey consumed him. It was his life. He was like one of those racehorses with blinders on, not being able to truly see anything around him – especially during the hockey season. Part of it was that it was how his mind worked; the other part of it was that he knew he needed to be that way. People like that succeeded – they were able to attain the highest level of glory, which he wanted. Sid certainly did, which people liked to remind him of constantly. He reminded himself of it constantly. Sid already had a Stanley Cup by his age, and was on the road to getting his second and third, which he would win by the age of thirty. He, at twenty-six, still had more than most – he’d won a Memorial Cup, the Calder and the Lady Byng, and a World Championship – but he hadn’t won the Stanley Cup. That was Nathan MacKinnon – always coming up short of the ultimate prize.

He stayed in his house alone for a few days, eating whatever healthy food his parents had stocked for him when he told them he was flying home. He took calls from only them and his sister – his agent knew to leave him alone, as did his nutritionist, trainer…basically everybody else. It would take a while for him to feel normal again and want to communicate.

It was only after he’d been home for a few days that he ventured to go back outside – to Halifax, specifically, and its downtown core. Despite it being busy, with people out for work lunches and the like, he flew mostly under-the-radar. It was why he liked Halifax so much. People knew who he was, so they left him alone. They took care of their own. Of course people still came up to him occasionally, especially people with kids (and he always accommodated the kids), whenever he was back in Halifax, he was left to live his life. He had parallel parked his car on Bedford Row and began walking with no end in mind. When he didn’t like the look of the buildings, he walked a block down and found some he did like; when he couldn’t see the water, he walked south so he could see it as the blocks opened up.

He was wandering. And he was a guy who didn’t exactly wander.

His stomach began to grumble, so he knew he needed to find a place to eat. Not willing to go into a restaurant and blow his cover, he slipped into a tiny, unassuming café on Granville Street, along the cobblestone streets of Granville Mall. It was in a very artsy area of town, near the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design, so he knew being recognized was slim.

He got a table alone. His waitress was nice, and he ordered a grilled chicken sandwich with fries, and he just kept to himself and his own thoughts. The café wasn’t too busy – he’d say about half full – and it was only when he was about half-way through his meal that he noticed his waitress interact with another person – a woman, alone just like him, sitting closer to the front display counter and till. His waitress gabbed enthusiastically with the woman, who had a head of long, long curly hair that was impeccably kept and styled. She wore a fashionable outfit of a long, sleek blush-coloured blazer (currently hanging on her chair), black dress pants, and a white shirt. On her feet were a pair of flat, ankle-laced shoes. Nate was in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and kept his baseball cap on inside.

Every member of the staff was kind to her. They all approached her to say hello, apologized about distracting her from her work (she had an iPad Pro perched on the table behind her plate) stayed for a quick little chat, then went on their merry way.

“What are you working on now?” one waitress asked.

“I’m still working on curating the upcoming exhibit I mentioned last time,” the woman said with a smile. “It’s almost done! I’ve been working on it for so long now – I feel like it’s my baby or something.”

“My friends and I are going to get tickets. When it was announced, we were so excited!”

“Good! It’s going to be great, if I may say so myself.”

Nate felt like he recognized the woman’s voice. There was something about it that made it sound familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on where he’d heard it before. Then, she turned around in her chair to get something out of her purse, and he was able to see her face. Even her face looked familiar. Fuck. She had makeup on, but not so much that it completely covered her features – it was well-done and professional. He swore he’d seen her somewhere before. He swore he knew her.

But he couldn’t figure it out.

Nate continued to eat and continued to listen to her interact with the waiters and waitresses. When he was done and it was becoming socially unacceptable to just be sitting around at his table listening in on conversations while he tried to pinpoint exactly where he knew her, he got up from his seat to approach the till and pay for his meal. As he waited for someone, he looked over at the woman. She didn’t notice, as she was focused on her iPad. He did it a few more times until he was able to tap his card. He left a hefty tip and put his wallet back into his pocket.

He was supposed to leave. He was supposed to walk right out the café doors.

Instead, he approached her.

“Um, excuse me?” he said softly, just loud enough to get her attention. When she looked up at him from her seat at her table, her eyes were wide and beautiful. “Hi, I—I’m sorry to bother you,” Nate stuttered out.

“That’s alright,” she said in an equally soft yet confident voice.

“I just—I—do I know you?” he asked.

“Nope, but I know you!” was what he was expecting to hear. Everybody said it to him, because he was home in Halifax, because, well…mostly everyone knew him. But this woman, whoever she was, looked him dead in the eye and shook her head. “No,” she said definitively.

Nate was slightly taken aback by her directness. He couldn’t help but let out the slightest of chuckles, mostly out of nerves. “Sorry, I—I swear I recognize you and your voice, but I don’t know from where.”

The woman smiled – grinned, really, since she showed no teeth. “I must have one of those faces or voices,” she said politely. “Sorry I’m not who you’re looking for.”

Nate accepted the reality. He nodded his head quickly, bringing his hand up as if to wave off his own behaviour. “Sorry to bother you,” he apologized. “E—Enjoy the rest of your lunch. Have a great day.”

“You too, sir.”

Sir. He’d just been called sir in his hometown. He wanted to shudder.

He left the restaurant without another word. He knew he was in an artsy part of town – and the woman was clearly involved in art, since she was speaking about curating something – but Nate still found it a bit odd that she didn’t recognize him. Most people did, even if they were polite about it and pretended not to, or only showed they knew who he was at the end of the conversation by calling him by his name or Mr. MacKinnon. But she didn’t do any of that. She denied knowing him, didn’t recognize him, had no ideas who he was.

But he was determined to remember where he knew her.

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