#a 'misery loves company' than anything because this is a FANDOM. you should want people to have fun! you shouldn't want them to be stressed
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Boy Problems
Hope x Male Reader
Genre: Chapter Fic
Request: Hi, uh so I'm new to the legacies fandom so if this request sucks.. Sorry. Could you do one where the readers a human and mystic falls high. Hopes upset that landon moving on and is lonely, the readers also sad becuase he just got dumped, so they become fuck buddies but fall for each other. When everyone remembers hope, landon tries to win hope back but she's already fallen in love with the reader and picks him over landon. Uh if you Could write smut please.. If you're comfortable that is
A/N: Welcome to the fandom! Don't worry the request is just fine!
Song: Imported by Jesse Reyez ft. 6lack
You sighed before stepping out of your car. It had been two weeks since your ex dumped, just as things seemed to be getting serious, so now you've been spending nights like these alone lately. You got out and started to walk across town square, as you made you way to the grill you noticed a girl on one of the benches, but the closer you got you could hear some crying.
"Hey."
Hope glanced up at you then quickly looked away to wipe her tears. "Hey."
"You okay?" you said.
"Yeah. Just boy problems."
"I feel that-- I mean girl problems, not boy problems." You stammered as you tried to correct yourself, which made her huff a laugh. "I'm Y/N, by the way."
"Hope."
"Hey, you know what helps with boy problems? Stuffing your face with food. I'm actually heading to the grill if you want, must be pretty chilly out here."
She looked up at you and flashed a soft smile. "I'm fine."
You nodded before heading off inside but later came back with a to go bag and a milkshake.
"Mind if I sit here?" you asked.
Hope didn't expect to see you as she looked up over her shoulder again.
"I know what you said, but misery loves company, right?"
"Thanks." she said, sliding over.
You sat down, laying the food out between you two. "I don't know what you like, so I just got you a burger and fries."
"That's alright."
“You want to talk about it? The boy problems?”
“You know, I’ve kind of spilled my guts to a stranger already.”
“Well I bet that stranger didn’t get you any comfort food.” you said, popping a french fry in you mouth.
“Actually, he did give me a peanut butter blast.”
“Peanut butter blast, really? I’ve always kind of thought was overrated.”
Hope raised her eyebrows with a light smile. “Oh really? And what’s your shake of choice?”
“Strawberry. And you know what’s even better than that?” You took the lid off your milkshake and dipped another one of your fries in it.
“What are you doing?” she laughed.
“What? It’s good, it’s the perfect combination of sweet and salty. Come on, don’t hate on it until you’ve tried it.”
She shook her head. “No way.”
“Fine, but you’re missing out.” you said, eating it.
The two sat on the bench and talked while you ate. You asked her if she was new in town so you gave a run down of the workings of Mystic Falls and Hope nodded along to all the things she already knew and then you both got into your relationship problems. Then eventually it got late and was time to go home.
“You need a ride home?”
“No, it’s fine. You’ve already done enough, it’s all good.”
“You sure? It’s really not a problem.”
“I’m sure. I, uh, live close to to here actually.”
“Alright then. “ you said getting up, and patting your pockets for that pencil you forgot to put in your binder. “Well I’m just going to leave my number here on this napkin and if you need a friend or anything, feel free to hit me up.”
. . .
You got home after the big fight with the stallions and was patching yourself up when Hope sent you a text asking if you were free to hang out.
"Hey. Come in."
"Hey. Your parents home?" she asked as she stepped inside, making sure she wasn't interrupting anything.
"No. My mom's working late and my dad's out with some friends, we're good." you assured her before closing the door behind her.
You made your way back to the couch to make another attempt at bandaging your hand and that's when Hope saw it along with the shiner on your temple.
"What happened?" she asked, sparked with concern.
"You did hear? There was this huge brawl between the Timberwolves and the Stallions after the game. Again apparently."
"Are you okay?"
"Oh yeah, don't worry it could've been worse. Like this one guy, Aaron: broken nose."
You continued to wrap your hand until Hope intervened, taking a seat next to you. "Here. Let me help you with that." she said, seeing as you were doing it wrong.
You watched her, she was gentle and you noticed how soft her hands were. You then looked up at her and just stared for a moment.
"What?" Hope asked, catching you after she was done.
"Nothing." you said, but still somehow you couldn't take your eyes off her. She was just so pretty. You just kept staring into those blue eyes of hers, then you noticed your gaze slipping down to her lips.
To your surprise, she leaned in first for the kiss. You kissed once before pulling back, then you both dove back in. She grabbed your neck and pulled you closer while your went up her thigh. Eventually, you found yourself on top of her, your hand gliding up to her breast.
You could feel yourself growing hard as things progressed, and so could she. She broke away from you. "You have any--"
"In my room."
You two got up from the couch and went to your room where you started to strip each other of your clothes, kicking the door shut behind you.
As soon as your underwear fell to the floor she immediately pushed you onto bed, crawling in your lap. You could feel your cock getting even stiffer from her hips rocking back and forth.
You reached over into your desk drawer beside your bed and took out a condom. Hope lifted her hips up so you could slip the rubber on. She lowered herself onto you. Moans fell from both of your lips as she adjusted to your size.
She wrapped her arms around you as she began to ride you, her pace starting slow. she let out a moan which was muffled by your lips. She held on tight as you rocked your body. You felt your lips move along her jaw as your hands grabbed her ass.
"Fuck.." she groaned as you nipped at her ear.
You moved down, biting gently down on her collarbone and leaving a mark. Hope bit her lip as she started to ride harder. You felt your lips move along her bare chest as you moved downward. You used your bandaged hand to knead her breast . As you did so Hope arched her back, moaning as you teased her.
"Ah..yeah..." You moved your lips to her nipple, sucking on it and making her gasp.
You stopped her a second then flipped her over onto the bed, as you did so you lost your balance and fell on top of her. You both laughed as you propped yourself back up.
“Sorry, that usually goes better.” you said.
Hope giggled as she kissed you. She pressed your body up against hers as you slid back into her. You started to thrust your hips and eventually you found your way back to the pace you guys were once at before as you felt her legs wrap around your waist.
"Mmmm.." you moaned.
"Oh fuck.." Hope whined.
You quickened your pace and a few moments later you could feel yourself coming closer to your climax. You could also tell she was coming as her body convulsed and she dug her nails into your back. You gently ran your fingertips over her clit.
"I'm gonna..." she said in a long-winded whine as you felt her tighten around you.
You guys came and rode out your highs together. You collapsed besides her. “Wow..”
“Yeah...” Once you guys caught your breath, she got up and slipped on your shirt. “I should get cleaned up.”
“For sure,” you said, sitting up. “It’s the second door on the right.”
She left and you took of your condom and threw it away, using a tissue to clean off the excess on you. You then crashed back on to the bed and when Hope got back, you were already passed out.
The next morning, the both of you tangled amongst the sheets, you were woken up by a loud knock at your door. "Y/N, get up. You're gonna be late for school." you heard your father say.
You swore under your breath as you glanced over to Hope who looked just as startled as you. "I'm up." you called out.
"I'm off to work. And your mom's asleep so don't wake her up."
"Alright, see ya."
You waited for your father to leave before you and Hope started to scramble for your clothes and slip them on.
As you guys made you way to the door, you paused when you caught a glance of the kitchen. "Shit. Hey, I'll buy you breakfast on our way to school."
"it's fine, you don'––"
"You serious? Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Don't worry about it." you smiled, holding the door for her.
You pulled up to the school after making a pitstop for some coffee and whatnot. You sat awkwardly quiet for a second before Hope opened the door.
"Thanks." Hope said.
"Yeah, no problem.. I had a good time last night."
"Me too... Anyways I should probably get going." She opened the door and step, grabbing her coffee, then Maya ran into her.
"Y/N, I didn't know you knew Hope." Maya greeted.
"Just giving the her a ride, that's all." you replied, flashing a friendly smile.
"And a coffee? I should let you drive me around too." she joked.
"Alright, I better find a place to park. See you guys around."
While you drove off, Maya teased Hope about you as they walked together, but Hope wasn't really one to kiss and tell.
You guys still saw each other around school, but the next time you hooked up was at a house party Maya convinced Hope to going to. You had caught her sitting on a couch as everyone else mingled. You managed to get her to loosen up and dance with you then when one thing led to another, you two ended up hook up in the bathroom.
After that you and Hope found yourselves hooking up even more, mostly when you were feeling lonely. Then because it felt good and you had grown really fond of each other. As your 'relationship' progressed, you started hooking up not just outside of school, like texting each other during class to make out under the bleachers. Soon people started notice how much you two hung out, the hickeys on your neck and how Hope sometimes wore your letterman's jacket.
There was a fine line between whether you and Hope were dating or just something casual. You agreed on labelling yourselves as friends, even though at this point you knew there was a real connection forming, but you were okay with that or at least you thought you were. There would be days where she would run off with no explanation and when she returned she suddenly started act strange around you.
"I don't know, Man, she just seems weird all the time lately. You think it's her ex?" you said to Ethan as you helped set up for the Commonwealth Day festival.
"Have you thought of talking to her, maybe?" He replied.
"Come on, no one wants to be that guy."
"Do you like her?"
"I don't know. Things are just better when she's around and I don't want anything screw it up."
"Then I think you know what you should do. Anyways, we should get to practice."
As you guys left for practice, you looked around for Hope only to find that she disappeared somewhere. This was becoming very like her now.
You kept thinking about Hope throughout the day and what you might say. You tried texting her a couple times here and there, but she didn't answer.
After you when done with you were done with your plans for the day, you went to the festival where saw Hope at one of the tables.
"Hope?" you said, taking a seat by her.
"Y/N. Hey." she said a bit solemnly.
"Where have you been all day? I tried texting you."
"Sorry. Something came up with some old friends."
"Yeah, that seems to be happening a lot lately." You sighed. "Hey, I need to ask you something."
She looked at you and just at you were about to open your mouth, you were interrupted.
"Hope?"
You both turned your heads to see a curly haired boy.
"Landon."
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Home is Us
Fandom: 911 Lone Star
Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Owen Strand, Judd Ryder, Tommy Vega, Mateo Chavez
Summary: In the aftermath of the condo fire, Carlos and T.K. seek comfort in one another. Post ep for 2x12 "The Big Heat."
A/N: This is my rather belated post ep for 2x12. And it would not have happened without @bluenet13. Literally. I agonized over this SO MUCH and she listened to all my whining and didn't let me cut the part about Marlon Blendo so I owe her everything.
AO3
The night air was cool and still, the stars sparkling brightly in the sky, but the stench of smoke obliterated any sense of peace or calm. T.K. could feel Carlos’ hand gripping his shoulder with bruising force as they burst out the front doors and onto the lawn, both of them gasping and coughing.
Tommy came running toward them. “Are you all right?” she asked urgently, eyes and hands searching for damage. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m, I’m okay,” T.K. choked out. “Carlos?”
He shook his head, coughing violently. “I’m fine too.”
“T.K.!”
His dad came charging toward him, wrapping him up a fierce hug. “Oh my god,” he breathed into T.K.’s hair and then his other arm was pulling Carlos in too, squeezing them both with every bit of strength he had. “Are you boys all right?”
“We’re good, Dad,” T.K. said, even though he was shaking violently, adrenaline coursing through his veins so fast he felt lightheaded. “What the hell? How did you guys even know we were in trouble?”
“Raymond said something earlier today and I just put the pieces together,” Owen said. “I’m so sorry, I should have figured it out sooner.”
There were sirens screaming up now, ambulances and firetrucks, and Tommy put a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “Okay, there will be time to talk about this later. Right now all of you need to get checked out by the paramedics. No objections,” she said quickly when several mouths opened to protest. “A little oxygen never hurt anybody. Come on now.”
T.K. moved follow her and then realized Carlos wasn’t behind him. He turned to find his boyfriend still rooted to the spot, staring straight ahead at the burning building. “Babe?” T.K. reached for his arm.
Carlos startled at his touch and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m coming.”
He was quiet as they sat on the back of the ambulance, answering questions with yes or no answers, eyes and body listless as they checked him over for injuries. T.K. had never seen his boyfriend look so small.
They were both given oxygen and then Tommy reappeared, blankets in hand that she wrapped comfortingly around their shoulders, her mom tendencies coming out in full force. “Is everyone else all right?” T.K. asked, pushing his mask to the side.
“They’ve all got some first and second degree burns, but they’ll heal up all right. How are you two doing?”
“It could have been a lot worse,” T.K. said.
“Carlos?” Tommy asked, her eyes softening and taking on a new level of concern.
He met her eyes and nodded. “I’m okay.”
She looked at him a moment longer and then reached out to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m going to go check on the guys. You two stay right here and do as you’re told, got it?”
It wasn’t long before the paramedics released them with instructions to take it easy, stay hydrated, and head to the emergency room if they experienced any concerning symptoms. T.K. was still in disbelief that they’d escaped so unharmed. It was nothing short of miraculous, if you believed in that kind of thing.
Carlos spoke as they walked away from the ambulance, his voice quiet. “I should uh, I should call my parents,” he said.
“Do you want me to do it?” T.K. asked.
Carlos shook his head, already pulling out his phone. “No. No it’s um, they should hear it from me.”
He dialed, taking a shaky breath as he waited for someone to pick up. “Hey Dad.”
The conversation was painful, even from T.K.’s end. He couldn’t make out Gabriel’s words through the phone, but he could hear the unbridled fear in his voice. Carlos on the other hand sounded almost monotone, relaying the story and pertinent information in painfully exact detail, but without an ounce of emotion behind it, slipping back and forth between English and Spanish as he explained.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so upset before,” Carlos said, when he hung up.
“Yeah.” T.K. looked at his boyfriend who seemed to be refusing to look back. “Carlos? How are you doing?” he finally asked.
“I’m good,” Carlos said, eyes darting toward him and then away. It was clearly a brush off and they both knew it. So T.K. waited.
And then he watched as his boyfriend broke in front of him, anguish and fear spilling out like a wave until they were both clinging to one another as Carlos’ quiet sobs wracked his frame over and over again.
“Shh,” T.K. soothed, struggling to provide some kind of real comfort when he felt so raw himself. “Breathe. We’re okay. That’s all that matters.”
“I should have known, I should have made the alarm company come out today.”
“Carlos listen to me, none of this is your fault.” T.K. pulled him in tighter, desperate to do something to ease his pain.
“If I had just looked around, if we had waited ten more minutes to go upstairs—“
“We had no way of knowing.”
Carlos pulled back, still shaky. “You can’t really believe that. There’s always something. I should have done better.”
T.K. cupped his face in his hands. “Baby why are you beating yourself up over this so much?”
“Because I’m supposed to protect you!” Carlos said, the words coming out on a ragged sob. “That’s my job. To keep people safe. And when it came down to it I couldn’t protect you. The person I care about most in this world I couldn’t—”
T.K. used his thumbs to wipe away some of Carlos’ tears, clearing his throat, trying to keep his own tears at bay. “Listen to me. We’re a team, remember? We protect each other. You and me. Not just you.”
Carlos shook his head, face still contorted in misery. T.K. pulled him back in again and pressed a kiss to his hair. “It’s okay to be upset. But you cannot blame yourself for this. This was not your fault, do you hear me?”
Carlos nodded against his shoulder, but T.K. wasn’t completely convinced his words had gotten through.
Carlos took a shuddering breath and stepped away, wiping at his eyes and T.K. watched the wall go back up; the one Carlos had carefully constructed around him that meant he was always completely even-tempered and never out of control. “We should uh, we should go check on your dad and everybody. Tell them thank you.”
“Yeah, sure,” T.K. said, feeling like he probably should be saying something more, but unable to find the words.
Carlos was already moving toward the group gathered at the back of the ambulance and T.K. had no choice but to follow him. “You guys all right?” T.K. asked as Judd pulled him in for a side hug.
“We’re just glad you’re both okay,” Judd told him. “Everything check out with the paramedics?”
“We both ate a little bit of smoke, but we’re okay,” T.K. said. “Honestly though,” he swallowed hard, “we probably wouldn’t be here without you guys. So thank you.”
“You’re just lucky your dad drives so fast. I didn’t know he had it in him, what with him being such a city slicker,” Billy said with a chuckle.
“My driving is impeccable and I always drive the exact speed limit. Except in emergency situations,” Owen said, casting a look at Carlos.
Carlos managed to scrounge up half a smile but didn’t say anything.
A truck came screeching to a stop just behind the ambulance and Gabriel Reyes jumped out. The man looked truly shaken, eyes wild as he ran toward them. “Carlos! Mijo are you all right?”
“I’m okay Dad,” Carlos told him as they hugged.
“Gracias a Dios. You’re all okay?” Gabriel asked, looking around the group.
“We got out just in time,” Owen said. “Minor injuries only.”
“Which is more than we can say for the condo,” Judd said. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t do more Carlos, he had that place rigged up good.”
Carlos shook his head. “You did everything you could and we’re…” he swallowed hard and T.K. could tell he was blinking back more tears, “we’re very grateful.”
“Have they taken your statements yet?” Gabriel asked.
“Yeah, about half an hour ago,” T.K. said. Officers had come around while they were still sitting at the back of the ambulance and written down what little they knew. Nothing like telling complete strangers that you hadn’t realized your house was burning down around you because you were upstairs having sex with your boyfriend.
“Then there’s no reason you need to be standing around here,” Gabriel said. “You know the ranch is open to you both. Your mother is worried sick, she would be very happy to have you.” He turned to look at Owen. “But perhaps you would rather be closer to work? The ranch is a bit of a drive.”
“Well of course you’re welcome to stay at my place,” Owen said. “There’s plenty of space and Buttercup would love to have you around. But I’m sure Andrea wants you close to her.”
Gabriel shook his head. “I think they’re better off here in town. Andrea will understand. There will be a lot of paperwork to deal with in the coming days, they need to be readily available.”
“Well of course, but I’m not sure how much I can provide in the way of hospitality right now. The investigators didn’t really clean things up when they left,” Owen said meaningfully.
“Not a problem,” Gabriel said, taking out his phone. “I can have a crew there in the morning. It should never have taken this long in the first place. You know sometimes they drag their feet on these things.”
“Oh it’s no problem,” Owen said, waving him off. “Worth it in the end.”
The dads debated a while longer before they decided an exhausted T.K. and Carlos would stay with Owen for the time being to be closer to work and to their former condo for whatever overhaul was necessary. By that point neither of them really cared where they ended up as long as there was a shower and a bed waiting for them.
Owen elected to stay at the scene with Gabriel so Judd drove Carlos and T.K. home. Neither of them said much, still in a state of shock and Judd was mindful enough not to try and fill the truck with conversation.
The house was dark, Mateo asleep for the night. Buttercup looked up as they came in and gave half a tail wag before settling back down again.
“I think I left a couple sweatshirts and pairs of pants here,” T.K. said, searching through the drawers in his dad’s guest room.
“Mmhmm,” Carlos said. He’d sunk onto the end of the bed and was staring blankly at the wall.
“Hey,” T.K. stopped his search and went to him, cupping his face in his hands. “Why don’t you go get in the shower? I’ll find us something to change into and bring it to you.”
Carlos nodded tiredly and disappeared down the hall. T.K. stood for a moment chewing on his lip. He felt lost, adrift, trying to process and deal with his own feelings of grief and stomach churning worry, and Carlos seemed miles away. T.K. didn’t know what to do except to try and meet his physical needs.
He managed to scrounge up a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he thought would do the job. They might be a little tight, but at least Carlos wouldn’t be sleeping in the stench of his smoky clothes.
T.K. knocked softly on the bathroom door before stepping inside and putting the clothes on the counter. “You all right?” he asked.
Carlos sniffed and cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
T.K. gathered up Carlos’ soiled clothes from the floor and dumped them into the washer, intending to add his after he had his own shower. He heard the water turn off and a minute later the bathroom door opened. “I’m done,” Carlos called softly down the hall.
“I’ll be quick,” T.K. said, switching places with him.
The water felt good and he watched as soot and sweat and ash slithered down the drain. He took longer than he meant to, almost lulled to sleep by the soothing pound of the water against his back. Eventually it grew cool and he turned it off, stepping out to try and squeeze into a pair of sweatpants that belonged to his dad and a t-shirt he didn’t recognize but had found in the clean laundry.
T.K. left the bathroom still toweling off his hair. He crept quietly toward the guest room; Buttercup didn’t even move as he stepped over him in the hallway. Opening the door he winced when it squeaked, fully expecting to find Carlos completely sacked out in the bed, more than ready to join his boyfriend in blissful sleep.
Instead he found the room empty and a spiral of fear shot through him so fast it took his breath away. “Carlos?” he whispered, as if the man would suddenly materialize from a dark corner or the tiny closet.
When there was no answer he turned and went back the way he’d come, stepping over Buttercup again, searching the kitchen and the living room before he made his way to the back patio. “Hey,” he said softly when he spotted Carlos sitting on the edge of the outdoor sofa.
Carlos didn’t respond and T.K. felt his worry grow heavier. “Carlos?”
His boyfriend’s shoulders hitched slightly and T.K. walked around the patio furniture to find him hunched over, tears streaming down his face. “Oh baby,” T.K. said, dropping to his knees, hands frantically reaching for him.
“I’m sorry,” Carlos said hoarsely. “I just…I can’t…I’m trying to pull it together but—”
T.K. slipped onto the couch next to him and pulled him into his arms. “You don’t have to be okay,” he whispered, his own throat thick with emotion. “No one expects that of you.”
Carlos’ voice was hoarse and broken. “I’ve never needed saving before. Not like that.”
“Most people don’t,” T.K. said.
Carlos looked at him, eyes red and swollen. “You were amazing in there. I was…I was panicking and you knew exactly what to do.”
“You’re a police officer,” T.K. said, resting his head on top of Carlos’. “I wouldn’t expect you to know what to do in a five alarm fire. Just like you wouldn’t expect me to know what to do in a shootout.”
Carlos sighed and leaned into him. T.K. bent over and kissed his forehead. “We should try and get some sleep.”
Carlos shook his head again. “I can’t,” he said hoarsely. “I just keep thinking about it over and over again. I’m sorry I’m such a mess—“
“Hey, you don’t need to apologize. Everything you’re feeling is totally normal.”
Carlos swallowed hard. “I know it was just a house. But it was mine. It was the first place I felt like I could be myself. And then you came and it was our home and I—“ Carlos bit his lip and shook his head. “It’s all gone.”
“But I’m not,” T.K. said twining their hands together. “I’m right here. You’ve got me. And I don’t care where we are as long as we’re together. Home is us.” He stroked his thumb up and down on Carlos’ shoulder.
His face sobered as he took a really good, long look at Carlos. Exhaustion and fear still radiated off of him. He looked defeated. Empty. “Let’s at least try to get some sleep,” T.K. said softly, brushing a still-damp, curl from Carlos’ forehead. “We’ll figure things out in the morning.”
He pulled Carlos to his feet and they walked hand in hand back to the guest room. Carlos looked at the clock as he got into bed and groaned. “I have a shift in five hours.”
“You’re not going to work today.” T.K. told him. “They’ll understand.”
Carlos slid down the bed onto his side, leaning up on his elbow, his free hand finding a home on T.K.’s hip. “I meant what I said before. You were incredible tonight T.K. You saved us.”
“I’m pretty sure my dad, Billy, and Judd saved us,” T.K. told him.
Carlos shook his head. “I’m serious. If you hadn’t been there—“
“But I was,” T.K. said firmly. “I was and we’re fine. We’re…going to be fine,” he amended, because god knew there was nothing fine about them right now.
Carlos was quiet for a moment and then laid down all the way so they were face to face. T.K. shifted so they were even closer, needing to feel the warmth of Carlos against his own body. “I don’t think I can sleep,” Carlos said.
“Then we’ll just lie here together,” T.K. told him softly.
They locked eyes, both of them breathing together in the silence, just being together, holding on a little tighter than normal. “I can’t stop seeing it,” Carlos finally whispered. “I was so scared T.K. What if I’d lost you?”
“You didn’t,” T.K. said softly. He leaned in and pressed a tender, reassuring kiss to Carlos’ lips. Carlos didn’t respond so T.K. nudged him gently with his nose and then kissed him again.
It was slow at first, Carlos still drowning so deeply in loss and anxiety, but as T.K. continued to silently encourage him he began to reciprocate. First just one kiss, and then another, this one a little deeper, until they were completely pressed up against each other, hands searching for bare skin, shared breath moving between parted lips.
Things grew heated and T.K. could feel the increasing desperation in Carlos’ kisses so he smoothed a hand soothingly down his spine, pulling back from him just a little bit, forcing him to slow down. “It’s okay,” he murmured as their lips broke apart and came back together. “I’m right here.”
Carlos responded by matching T.K.’s slower kisses, following him rather than leading.
T.K. reached between them and slowly undid the drawstring on his boyfriend’s sweatpants. Carlos broke off the kiss. “Are you sure?”
T.K. nodded, moving his hands underneath Carlos’ shirt, helping him pull it off over his head. They both needed this, to touch, to feel, to reassure themselves that they were alive, that this might have changed their night, but it hadn’t change them.
Carlos started to roll on top of him, but T.K. gently pushed him back down until he was the one on top, chests and hips pressed together, a reversal of their positions from just hours before. Carlos’ hands landed on T.K.’s back, their eyes locking, both of them seeking comfort in the physicality of being together.
“We’re okay,” T.K. said, as much for himself as for Carlos.
Carlos nodded and then closed his eyes as T.K. began pressing kisses into his neck and chest. “We’re okay,” T.K. murmured soothingly every time his lips left Carlos’ skin. “I’m going to say it until you believe it. We’re okay. We will be okay together.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
T.K. woke up in the morning legs still tangled with Carlos’. It took him a moment to remember why he had a pounding headache and his muscles felt tight. Right. Burning condo. Smoke inhalation. Mad dash for their lives.
Carlos was still deeply asleep, for which T.K. was grateful. His boyfriend had drifted off in his arms somewhere around three am and T.K. had quickly followed. He managed to extricate himself without waking Carlos and pulled on some clothes before he headed out to the kitchen in search of painkillers.
Sun was just filtering in the windows, the day already bright and clear. It was incredible how the world could continue to turn, even when everything had just crashed down around you. T.K. found some Advil, leaving it out on the counter, knowing it was likely that Carlos would be in need of some too. Then he moved their now clean, damp clothes from the washer to the dryer. They’d need to go out today and get some essentials.
“T.K.?” Mateo asked in surprise as he appeared at the base of the stairs. “I thought you and Carlos made up?” He paused and frowned in confusion. “Is that my shirt?”
T.K. sighed and launched into an edited version of the night’s events. “Dude,” Mateo said when he finished, a stunned look on his face. “Man that sucks. I’m glad you guys are all right.”
“Yeah, us too,” T.K. said.
“And listen, my house just totally blew up too. It was a rental, so not quite the same, but if you guys need help with any part of this process just let me know. You can borrow my car or laptop or whatever you need.”
“Thanks Mateo,” T.K. said gratefully.
There were footsteps on the stairs and Carlos appeared, eyes bleary and swollen, curls a disheveled mess. There was still a heaviness about him, but he looked better than the night before.
“Hey,” he said, wrapping an arm around T.K.’s waist and giving him a kiss, lingering slightly longer than their normal morning peck. “Hi Mateo.”
“Hey Carlos. T.K. told me about your place, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s definitely not ideal,” Carlos said with a sigh.
��Did you sleep okay?” T.K. asked.
Carlos nodded, then winced. T.K. reached for the bottle of Advil and poured him a glass of water. “Thanks,” Carlos said, swallowing down two pills.
“Did you call your captain?” T.K. asked as Mateo grabbed a protein bar and vacated the kitchen to give them some privacy.
“Yeah he’d already heard. Told me to take the time I need.”
“Good,” T.K. said.
The dryer buzzed. “That’s our clothes,” T.K. said, getting up to retrieve them. “At least you can put on a shirt that fits.”
He tossed Carlos his shirt and pants. Carlos stared down at them, a frown on his face. “You okay?” T.K. asked.
“Why did you throw a shirt at me?”
“What?”
“Last night. We were about to be burned alive and you made me put a shirt on.”
“Oh,” T.K. thought for a second and shrugged as he folded his sweatpants and set them on top of the dryer. “I don’t know. I guess I just…panicked. I was thinking that the temperature drops here at night and I didn’t want you to be cold when we got outside.”
“Our condo was hot as hell, but you were worried I’d be cold?”
T.K. bit his lip and shook his head, a sheepish smile growing on his face. “I don’t know, like I said I panicked. It was the first thought that came to me.”
“Well it was a good one,” Carlos said, slipping his arms around T.K.’s waist. “Standing out there all night with no shirt on would have been pretty uncomfortable.”
T.K. threaded his arms through Carlos’, hands coming to rest on his lower back. “You doing okay this morning?” he asked.
“Better,” Carlos confirmed. “Thank you. I think I just…needed to let it all out. I’m sorry about last night. My head was…”
“Hey,” T.K. shook his head. “No more apologies. No one has anything to apologize for, right?” He brushed a hand over Carlos’ cheek. “Do you want coffee? Or a smoothie?” His eyes went wide as a thought hit him. “Oh no!”
“What? What’s wrong?” Carlos asked, concern dropping over his face like a cloud. T.K.’s distress was so sudden and visceral that he pulled back slightly, eyes searching T.K.’s frame for some kind of injury.
T.K. felt his chest growing tight as anxiety gripped him. “Marlon Blendo! Oh my god, my dad is going to be so upset!”
“Whoa.” Carlos cupped his face in his hands. “I’m sure your dad will be okay. Blenders are replaceable.”
“Carlos he really loved that blender,” T.K. said seriously.
Carlos chuckled. “Here I am, wondering all night long how we’re going to get through this and how you can be so calm when the world has literally gone up in flames, and now you’re losing it over a blender.”
“He was a really good blender!” T.K. pulled away from him and ran a hand through his hair as he took a few aimless steps, more thoughts striking him. “Oh my god my hoodies!”
“I will buy you new hoodies,” Carlos assured him.
“They won’t be the same,” T.K. groaned.
“Is this you finally freaking out?”
“I am not freaking out!” T.K.’s breathing had increased rapidly as panic spiraled through him. The sense of calm control he’d felt for the past twelve hours slowly started to slip away as reality set in. “Oh my god I’m totally freaking out. I can’t freak out, you’re freaking out! We can’t both be freaking out!”
“Hey,” Carlos cradled his face in his hand. “We’re okay? Remember? And if you need to freak out and lose it, that’s all right. It’s your turn. I’ll pull it together for a couple hours and you can melt down.”
“I don’t want to melt down, I want my shirt with the blue stripes on it. And that bergamot candle your parents gave us as a housewarming gift. Oh my god, Carlos all your spices from the market!”
“Come here,” Carlos said, pulling him into a hug, one hand holding him firmly around the waist, the other settling on the nape of his neck, thumb moving back and forth in a soothing motion.
T.K. let his forehead rest against Carlos’ shoulder, feeling more grounded by the strength of his boyfriend’s arms and the softness of his fingers. “Thanks,” he mumbled.
T.K. took a breath as the weight of everything began to land on his shoulders. Losing their home. Almost losing each other. God, how was he only now feeling how terrible it all was? He’d truly thought he was okay until this very second. “We’re going to make it through this, right?” he asked. He’d been so sure last night, but now…
Carlos pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “Yes. We are.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A/N: When I started writing this, did I think it would end up in the boys having soft, sweet "we're so glad we're not dead"
sex in Owen's guest room? Nope. No I did not. Is it all @bluenet13's fault that it happened? Possibly. Or possibly they're just too sexy and they couldn't help it. Idk.
#911 Lone Star#911 LS#Tarlos#Carlos Reyes#TK Strand#Tarlos Fic#2x12#The Big Heat#Post Ep#Home is Us#Emotional Hurt/Comfort
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Breathe
T.S. x Jolex Week 2021 hosted by @thejolexgroupchat
Chapter One of One
Words: 2760
Summary: “He left me. And now I can't, I can't, I can't breathe.” Alex left and Jo felt like she couldn't breathe without him, but she had to learn how to breathe on her own, especially when he leaves a little part of himself with her.
Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.
Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson.
Characters: Jo Wilson, Alex Karev, Atticus Lincoln, and Meredith Grey.
Rating: General Audiences.
Additional Tags: Angst, Taylor Swift, Breathe, The Letter, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Tests.
Read at AO3
Read at FFN
AN: This song just fit so perfectly with this scene and I do not own any of Taylor Swift's music or the lyrics to Mine.
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Jo sat alone in the loft. Her hands wrapped around the glass of wine she hadn't taken a sip of yet. She stared at the kitchen sink, but not really as her mind drifted off. She thought of the snow as she drove home. The heavy flakes lingered on her windshield like puffs of cotton falling from the sky. Jo loved the snow. Growing up in Boston, her memories of playing in the winter snow were some of the better memories from her childhood. She smiled when she walked out of the hospital to see the cold frosty night and the quiet that came with a blanket of white across the city.
Alex loved the snow too. She remembered the conversation they had on their honeymoon. The one that she half listened to as she thought over her cancer research idea. Alex had talked about building forts in the snow with their two kids and how they would have a snowball fight with one of each on their team. The idea of Alex and their two children playing in the snow slipped through her fingers like the sand on the beach. In contrast, the snow stuck to her gloves as she wiped it off her car that night.
When she got home, she had poured herself a glass of wine to try and relax, but Jo just kept thinking of her and Alex and their children playing in the snow. They were in a good place, she was doing better since her depressive episode. Alex had settled into his role as chief and they were home more as they had a set schedule. They decided that now would be a good time to start trying for a baby. They had thrown out her birth control and the condoms and placed a box of pregnancy tests next to the box of tampons under the sink. As the smell of the wine turned her stomach and her period approached, she wondered which box she should grab.
She remembered the conversation she had with Helen. They had kept in touch a little bit since she had come to visit, a few texts and photos, but mostly just phone calls here and there. They had a good mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationship. Jo loved their little talks and how Helen treated her like her own daughter. Ever since she married Alex and took his name, Jo felt like she was one of the Karev’s. She finally had a family, a name that meant something to her.
Jo heard someone on the stairs. Heavy footsteps shook the snow off their boots in the entryway to the Loft. She got up and rushed over to the door, eager to open it before he could turn his key in the lock. He was back. Alex was home. A little smile appeared on her face. However, it disappeared when she saw that it was not Alex, but Link on her doorstep.
“Misery loves company,” Link said as he came in and shut the door behind him and she just stared at him. “So I brought donuts and despair.”
Link brushed past her and went over to the kitchen, setting the donuts on the island table and unzipping his jacket as Jo just stared at him. It took him a while to realize that she hadn't followed him. “Jo?”
“I, I thought you were him,” Jo said, looking around the empty Loft.
Link didn't say anything at first, he of all people, knew how much she missed Alex. He just looked down at the donuts and shrugged off his jacket. “I'm sorry.”
“He left me.”
Looking around, the absence of her husband was abundant. His shoes weren’t in the entryway, his clothes weren't on their shelves, she had looked for his favorite Iowa State Hawkeye t-shirt only to find that it was missing. His pillow was gone, and so was his toothbrush, his shampoo, and his body wash. Every little thing that was his and not theirs was missing. At first, she didn't think too much of it, just him taking the things he would need for a visit to his mom’s that didn't have a set return date. Yet as the days grew into weeks, Jo realized that he had taken all of his things and left.
“No, he didn't,” Link said, he was quick to assure her, just like everybody else had done over the past week. No one seriously thought that Alex would leave her, Jo certainly didn't, but she couldn't shake this feeling.
“I think he did.” Jo’s words came out in a breath and she just nodded and looked back at Link. “I think he woke up one day and felt the need to escape his life and me.”
Jo closed her eyes as she took a step forward. “I called his mom. He wasn't there. He'd never been there.”
She tried to keep her voice from breaking as she held back the tears. When she asked Helen about Alex, she tried to seem light, asking to talk to him and saying that she couldn't reach him on his phone. Helen was confused, she said she didn't even know Alex was planning to visit. Jo just smiled behind the phone and brushed it off. She just said that she was tired from a long day at work and must have forgotten that Alex was at a conference in Iowa instead. Helen was smart, and Jo knew she saw through her lies, but she let Jo pacify her with an easy excuse.
Helen promised to call Alex herself to tell him to call his wife, and Jo had laughed. They ended things on a happy note. Jo mentioned the snow and how cold it was and Helen said she was knitting some mittens for Amber’s family. She said she would start making ones for Jo and Alex and throw in an extra little pair for their future baby. Jo had loved the idea of a little pair of yellow mittens that her mother-in-law was knitting, but the worry about Alex leaving her overtook her joy. Jo had ended the phone call quickly after that as she felt the lump rise in her throat and it became harder to talk without her voice breaking.
Even now, she couldn't seem to take a deep breath and ease the tension that filled her. All she could feel was the weight on her chest as her heart ached for Alex. Jo shook her head as she looked around in disbelief. Never did she think he would do this to her.
“He left me. And now I can't, I can't, I can't breathe.”
Each word came out as a whisper, and after she broke down into sobs. Jo tried to breathe through the shaking sobs that wrecked her ribs, but she was so heartbroken. It was like she was holding her breath as she waited for him to come back, but she was beginning to drown. Link rushed over and wrapped his arms around her as Jo finally let herself fall apart in his arms. He gently swayed from side to side, rocking her like a child. She sobbed into Link’s shoulder as her knees gave out, and he took her weight. His big strong arms were usually a comfort to her, but the only person she wanted to hold her right now was Alex. Yet, he was the reason for her tears and the reason she couldn't breathe.
Her loud sobs filled the room as she cried out. Jo was in hysterics at this point, wailing into Link’s shoulder. She had kept it all in for so long, trying to keep it together. She had been desperate just to make it one more night, holding out hope that he would come home. That he would come back to her, but after everything that had happened today, she knew deep down that he had left her.
Getting left by your husband was never simple or easy. The way he did it, she could tell he wanted it to be a clean break, but she needed him to be there with her. To save her from this pain, pain that he caused.
Because she couldn't breathe without him.
They stay like that in the entryway with Jo sobbing into Link’s arms as he held her and their knees dug into the carpet. She felt like she was drowning in tears that stung in her eyes as they cascaded down her face. They were never ending and left harsh tracks on her cheeks. Her breathing came out in long sobs, just taking in enough air to cry out again. Jo didn't bother wiping away her tears or catching her breath. She just cried and wailed because that was all she could do. Jo cried herself until she fell asleep in Link’s arms.
Jo woke up from a dreamless sleep in her bed with the blankets gently tucked over her. There was an arm around her and for a second, she thought it was Alex. She rolled over to bury her face in his chest and breathe in his familiar scent, but instead, Jo was faced with Link’s sleeping face. He slept on Alex's pillow or Alex's second pillow because he took his main one with him. For a second, Jo just stared at him, she gasped as her lungs froze up, and she forgot to breathe again because Alex wasn’t home. He wasn’t sleeping in the bed beside her.
She rolled back over and glanced at her nightstand, her clock said that it was 2 a.m., and Jo stared into the empty kitchen. It shouldn't be Link beside her, comforting her. It should be, Alex. Link was her person, her best friend in the whole world, but Alex was her husband. He was the only one who had been with her through everything. He knew her better than she knew the back of her hand. She knew him just as well, but she lost him. She lost her husband and her soulmate.
Jo tried to take a deep breath in and out, but it was shaky and she couldn't seem to get enough air in. She squeezed her eyes shut as the tears filled her eyes again. She grabbed the blanket at the end of their bed and pulled it up to her nose, inhaling the sweet scent of him. It wasn’t easy trying to fall asleep in their bed without him, but she had to. Taking a deep breath again, Jo counted the seconds as she inhaled, and then counting again, she exhaled, trying to get to a higher number as she breathed in, taking in more air. It was a trick her therapist taught her, to focus on counting and breathing and not how lonely the bed felt because it wasn’t Alex next to her. She tried to breathe again on her own. Each inhale was hard because all she wanted to do was break down and cry again, but she held back the tears. She had to learn to breathe on her own. She had to learn to do it all on her own.
Alex had been there for her since the beginning, since her first year as an intern. Since then, they had only been apart for a few months, and even then, she still saw him every day in the hallways of the hospital. Jo thought that the most they had ever been apart was the month she was in the inpatient treatment for her depression. Now, as the days bleed into weeks, it was another day she hadn't seen him, hadn't talked to him, hadn't even heard from him at all. She just wanted to know that he was okay. She would settle for a voicemail, or a text, or a freaking letter.
……………………………………………………………………
She regretted that thought a few days later when she was holding his letter in her hands. Alex’s letter to her was written in his sloppy cursive handwriting. Jo used to scold him for it because she couldn’t read his writing, but now she could make out every word. She knew what the letter was going to say before she even opened it, but that didn't make reading his words any easier. Because nothing he could say was going to save them from this fallout. His voice in her head read it to her, and his words cut deep right down to the bone of her ribs, straight to her heart. When she finished it, she just sat there. It had been a week since the night she broke down, knowing that he left her, and despite how she tried, Jo still felt like she couldn't breathe without him.
She was holding her breath again and there was a tightness in her chest that wouldn't release. Jo got up and drifted through the hospital. She told Link she was going to work, but instead, Jo found herself hiding out in the supply closet, hyperventilating once again as she paced back and forth. She knew what a panic attack looked like as her lungs contracted in quick breaths with air that never quite seemed to reach her lungs. Somehow she was able to calm herself down and go through all of her techniques. Jo took off her shoes and put both feet on the floor as she went through the steps for a chest tube. She had to calm down, she had to breathe again, even if it was without him because there was someone else she might need to breathe for.
Jo waited until her panic attack was truly over and gave herself time to recover before she reached for the pregnancy test. She slipped out of the supply closet and went to the nearest bathroom. After taking the test, Jo didn't look at it, she knew what the results would be. Regardless, she couldn't be at work today. She went back to the attending’s lounge and quickly texted Bailey. Bailey offered her the whole week with the sympathetic, I'm sorry, but Jo just took the day. She didn't know how Bailey knew Alex quit his job and left her, but considering that he told his wife in a letter, she assumed he told Bailey the same way. Jo took a deep breath in as she texted back a simple reply.
She tried to keep her breathing even, steady, and deep as she drove over to Meredith's house. Her heart beat faster as she parked on the street and in front of the house she once called her home. Jo took a deep breath, looking down at the pregnancy test before putting a hand on her belly. She took another deep breath and walked up to the house. With each step, Jo took a breath in and out until she got to the door and knocked.
She didn't have to wait long before Meredith opened the door and gave Jo the same sad, sympathetic look as she held a letter at her side. “I just got a letter from Alex. I’m guessing you got one too. I'm so sorry, Jo. I have half a mind to go to Kansas and beat his ass. You don't deserve this.”
Jo just stared at her, slowly processing everything she said. She knew that Alex left her, but she would never have imagined that he would leave Meredith too. The realization that he was truly gone was slowly sinking in, and she took a deep breath. She had to breathe without him, or at least she tried.
“Meredith, I'm pregnant,” Jo said, her words coming out in a breath.
Meredith’s lips slowly parted in shock as she dropped the letter in her hand, the papers slowly falling to lay on the ground. Taking a step forward, Meredith wrapped her arms around her and pulled Jo in for a hug. She let out a breath as she melted into Meredith's arms. Jo could feel the tears spring up in her eyes again, and she let them fall, but she breathed because she had to.
She had to hold it together for the sake of her unborn child. She didn't know what she would do now that she was all alone, without him, but she would try. Even without him, she would be a damn good mother, the kind of mother their child deserved. Jo would learn how to breathe without him and somehow, she managed to take a deep breath in when all she wanted to do was stop breathing because of Alex.
#jo wilson#alex karev#grey's anatomy#jolex#TSJolexWeek21#meredith grey#atticus lincoln#otp: home and heart#grey's anatomy fanfic#my work#my writing#my fanfiction#my photos#my edits
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About criticizing Hermione.
Personally I think Hermione should be criticized for everything that happened in the books, the facts speak of their own but there is a limit in how responsible a fictional character is for the actions the author made her do . It's not like she actually had her faith in her hands and she chose to be JKRs shelf-insert and make all her Shitty ideas her own.
Let's look at the bigger picture here, is Hermione realy being treated better than Ron from the phantom?
JKR trusted her characters to Kloves and he basically pimped Hermione. She is the most sexualized fictional character of the 21st century so far, he portraited her like an OP/sexi cosplay of the real Hermione. She became a top10 sex fantasy for every healthy and sick mind out there and JKR did nothing to stop It for like a decade.
Ron is being hated for being an 'unworthy' pair for her(actually they hate him just because he has Hermione) and she is being hated for choosing him and she must be punish for it. You said that if she was a boy everybody will call for his head on a plate and I apsolotly agree but she is a girl so they call for her vagina on a plate instead. This is how you punish an intelligent woman, you subdue her and then you sexualy demean her.
You know better than me what is happening in fanfiction. She's been paired with evreone from Harry to Hagrids dog and the giand squid. Hermione is a sex slave, a dominated toy, a sperm dumpster, a total slut, a cheating/cheated wife, she is been mercilessly raped and abused and portrayed like a young Bellatrix or umbridge.
She has earn as many nasty titles as Ron so I don't think her being a girl worked in her favor.
Unfortunately it seems there are a lot of people who think that Intelligence is a mark of higher character and superior maturity as you said but Hermione is not one of them. She is hanging around with Harry and Ron and his family not her 'intelectual equals' from Ravenqlaw book club and she is dating athletes not distinguished students. Intelligence isn't the most important thing for her and she never acted like different people are not worthy of her company or her attention. So let's not hold her accountable for those ridiculous ideas.
Anyway I don't know if I am ranting but I just believe Hermiones character has been damaged and shamed just as much as Rons has, just in bit of different way and she don't deserve extra hate because she is JKRs shelf-insert in the story.
That comment of yours 'Hermione is literally JKR' ruin my appetite for the day. I just imagine Ron doing things with her.... Buhh😫🤢
The major difference in fanfiction is that... many people legit think this is “better” for Hermione.
They write stories of her being abused by Big Bad OOC Ron and being rescued by heroic prince charmings like Harry, Draco, Snape, or whoever. And all the while, the shippers genuinely think this could be plausible.
They take this huge dump on Ron and everything he stands for as a character - your insecurities don’t define you; the people you love only ask for you to be there, not for you to always be a 5* badass; you don’t have to prove anything to anyone but yourself - then proceed to “reward” Hermione with the affections of someone they’ve deemed “worthy” of her.
Usually, a person with which Hermione finds herself in a more subservient position.
Harry Potter: Mr Save The World, super fucking rich, will forever outshine whoever marries him
Draco Malfoy: aristocratic/nobility, super hella rich
Lucius Malfoy (yes, Luciumione is very popular on AO3): same as above + MUCH older than Hermione
Severus Snape: Potions prodigy who actually invented stuff while Hermione only ever stuck by the book, MUCH older than she is
Viktor Krum: famous athlete, probably rich
And so on and so forth.
Many of the Hermione ships of the fandom have an inherent imbalance. When it comes to age gap ships like Snamione or Luciumione, people will justify themselves by saying “oh but Hermione is so mature for her age, she needs someone on her level!”
.......... I very much hope to never meet one of these people in real life.
Not only is Hermione nowhere as mature as what they believe she is but MATURITY DOESN’T MAKE UP FOR A GAP OF NEARLY TWO DECADES OF EXPERIENCE.
(And can you imagine saying “Hermione needs a mature man!” then pairing her with Snape, the teenager stuck in a grown man’s body? Talk about cognitive dissonance.)
Anyway, those ships usually take Hermione to pair her with, let’s say it in the worst possible way, a man of “more value” than her.
The Hero. An aristocrat. An older man and a teacher. A celebrity...
They’re not trying to look to match Hermione with an equal.
They’re trying to pair her with someone she can be subservient to.
Because as @lytefoot brilliantly put it:
A woman has to be all-around pretty good at everything, whereas a man has to be the absolute best in his area of greatest competence (surely better than any puny female!) with a help-meet there to compensate for his weaknesses. People are very, very uncomfortable when Ron and Hermione reverse this dynamic. Hermione is extremely intelligent and dedicated to intellectual pursuits, but is complete pants at things like self-care and people skills. Ron is bright enough to keep up with her and strong in her areas of weakness.
Even if Ron was as dumb as a sack of rocks (he’s not), his other virtues are more than enough to “justify” Hermione loving him. (Because she needs an excuse?) But no. A woman has to be with a man who outdoes her in her area of greatest strength.
But they’re completely convinced that they’re making a “better” match for Hermione because in their heads, they’ve convinced themselves that Ron’s “inferiority” (= his underrated qualities like his good heart, his humour, his patience (many of which are also coded as primarily feminine qualities); his poverty; his language; his tendency to stand up for himself even against his friends; his insecurity) is a sure sign he would be bad to Hermione.
Because there are two types of people: those who are inferior and those who aren’t! /s
They sincerely believe they’re elevating Hermione when they’re using her as Harry/Draco/Snape/Aragog’s token to redemption/happiness. Because they genuinely think Hermione should be “rewarded” with a man that outclasses her in the aspects of her life she prides herself on (her studies, her academics, her social justice ambitions). At the same time, they build up this whole narrative about how Ron would “want her to be another Molly, barefoot and pregnant all the time” to convince themselves that they really are Good Little Feminists.
All in all: when people write Hermione as Snape’s sex kitten, they do it because they believe that’s the best thing that can happen to her. But when they write Ron to bash him, it’s because they genuinely hate him. They want the worst to happen to him. They delight in his misery. They love it. Because they’re so blinded by their own lies and so convinced that “hurmion 2 gud 4 ron durrhurrhurr” that they think he deserves the most painful, humiliating things to happen to him.
That’s the difference. People pair Hermione with the most horrible people out of blind adoration for her. Those same people bash Ron as retribution for “defiling” their goddess.
The kind of “Hermione bashing” you refer to is done out of good sentiments. But Ron? He doesn’t get that sort of bashing; he’s reviled and hated for things he didn’t even do, because people can’t fucking comprehend that just because he acted badly at times doesn’t mean those actions define him. The bashing comes out of hatred and an unfounded, unfair desire for “justice” that is unwarranted in the first place.
That’s why I turn the tables and judge Hermione with the fandom’s absolutely impossible standards they only seem to apply to Ron and a select few others (Dumbledore, some of the Weasleys). To prove that no fucking human being could even hope to dream to meet those standards.
#vivi answers#ask#hermione granger#ron weasley#ron weasley defense squad#ron weasley defence squad#hp fandumb#harry potter series
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Alone
Yellow there. I’m sorry for the absence. School’s been...busy. I have to find a way to work around that, which will probably be easier once it slows down and I get a bit a head of the game. Until then, I ask that you remain patient with me and enjoy this oneshot in thanks!
Fandom: Undertale, but specifically Dreamtale
Characters: Dream (Who belongs to Joku), with some of Nightmare (Who belongs to Joku)
Warnings: Implied/referenced suicidal thoughts and I think that’s it? Let me know!
Word Count: 1564
~oOo~
When you think of the word alone, you think of solitude. Of being by yourself all the time, having no friends to talk to, no family to rely on, nothing. Of keeping to yourself all the time, never making ties with anyone. You think of someone who’s sad, angry, hurt, or just lonely. You think of someone who needs some company.
But sometimes, the word alone can mean something else. It can mean having a job or duty that doesn’t allow you to stay in one place, that keeps you moving. It can mean having friends, good and trustworthy friends, yet you know that you can’t stay with them for more than a couple of days at a time. It can mean that you miss similar times, times where you were happy and carefree and laughed every day with your dear brother. Before the villagers settled down, before they started to demand more and more, before the incident, just…before, when brother loved you and everything was alright.
Dream gets lost in those memories, sometimes. He knows he shouldn’t, that he can’t afford to waste time thinking about the past and what could’ve been, what he should’ve done. It was so easy, to stay in the past like that. It was too easy. It was a trap. The memories grabbed him, pulled him down with their happiness and laughter. They taunted him, blamed him over and over.
“It’s your fault!” They seemed to say, vivid images plaguing his mind when he was both asleep and wide awake. “You caused this. You weren’t there. He didn’t trust you. You made him like that. All you’re doing is running away from your problems. Coward!”
They used to cause tears, make him drown in misery. Misery that he had to wrap up and make disappear in seconds because he couldn’t afford to be tracked. Now, they just washed over him, sinking into his mind, anchoring itself in place and never shaking away no matter what. They were always there. Even when everything was calm, when there wasn’t a need for them, they were there.
He hated it. Hated it as much as he was able to. He wanted to be rid of them. He wanted to be able to sleep in peace, to just live in peace. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t be able to, not ever. And he hated that, as well.
Nightmare didn’t have this problem. Dream knew that. It was easy to tell. His brother didn’t wonder over and over about what might’ve been, what could’ve been and what should’ve been. He didn’t blame himself for something he should’ve seen coming, something he should’ve noticed, something he should’ve been strong enough to prevent. He didn’t worry about any of that. All he did was hate Dream, hunt him down, try to kill him. He was…happy, with the life he built, the one Dream interfered in.
Nightmare was happy and Dream, on some level, was too. He was always his happiest when his brother was happy. He always tried to put a smile on the other’s face when he was down, and it mostly worked, but in the days leading up to the incident, all his attempts failed. It had set off the first of the alarms that something was wrong. He didn’t get a chance to know just how wrong everything was until after; after he wasn’t stone anymore, when he met Nightmare again for the first time and they had their first fight of many.
“You never noticed a goddamn thing, Dream!” Nightmare had hissed, eye flashing a bright teal and his tentacles flailing wildly behind him. This was the first time Dream had ever seen his brother truly angry. “It was always ‘villagers this’ and ‘villagers that’ with you! You were so blinded, so used to having your ego stroked all the time, that you never cared to think about how they treated me!”
He hadn’t let Dream say anything before he continued. “They abused me. Every day, while you were off in your nice little fantasy land, I was getting beaten. I was being called a demon, a monster, that everything would be better if I was gone. And you. Never. Noticed. How can you say you want to make things right, help everyone, when you couldn’t see your own brother being hurt?
“I have spent the last few hundred years becoming something powerful. Something good. And of course, you always have to come along and ruin it!” Nightmare had laughed. It had been cold, cruel. Dream hated it. “You always do that. When I get something just for me, you have to come along and either take it or break it.” He had narrowed his eye, a manic grin stretching across his face. “I won’t let you. I’m going to kill you, once and for all, and finally be rid of you. Then, I can finally live in peace.”
The words had hurt. They had wormed their way into his heart and stayed there ever since, rooting in place. The guilt had started up then, at first just a little bit, then becoming a title wave of overpowering shame and hate for himself.
And yet, it wasn’t the words themselves that hurt Dream the most. Rather, it was what was between them. What was implied by his brother, whether the other realized it or not.
“I’m better off without you, Dream.”
…
Nightmare was better off without him and that stung hard.
And he was right.
For all his life, Dream has needed Nightmare. That never changed. His brother was his rock, the person he looked up to and did everything with. He relied on the other to be there when things were scary or wrong. And the time he strived to do the same. He strived to be the brother Nightmare needed, like he was for Dream. But when his abilities were put to the test, when Nightmare needed him the most, he failed.
That had hurt. He failed to keep his brother safe. He had time to think about it in his stone prison, even if he didn’t know or understand just how much time it was (it was a weird thing to describe in general—Dream was conscious, he knew that, but the passing of time didn’t quite register). He failed. So, he made a promise that he would do better, that he wouldn’t let Nightmare down again.
…
He didn’t keep it.
Now look where he was.
He had a brother that wanted to kill him, friends who needed him to protect the Multiverse, no home, rarely ever a steady amount of food and rarely a good night’s sleep. His life had gone from easy and minorly stressful, to frozen with only blackness as his vision, to spending every day running.
It was…tiresome.
God, all Dream wanted to do was stay in one place for all eternity, sleep for all eternity.
He wanted to give up.
But he couldn’t. He had to stay awake and alert. He had to protect billions of people. And he had to do it all while running for his life, protecting the only source of positive emotions, the thing that doubled as his soul. He could never take a break. He could never let someone else do it for him.
Most importantly, he had to do it all alone.
He was grateful for his friends, he really was. He liked them, too. They made him laugh and brought light times into his stressful life. It helped him keep sane. But that didn’t change the fact that someone was missing. That his brother was hunting him down instead of sitting beside him and laughing with him.
…
Nightmare was right.
He was better of without Dream.
…
But Dream couldn’t just…let go and continue on. Something held him back, a sense of uncertainty and panic whenever he thought of being alone. Something itched at him, a need to continue trying to bring Nightmare back, even if he knew that that would never happen.
And he didn’t know why. He thought it over constantly, but nothing about it made sense. He should be happy for his brother, but he wasn’t. Why? Why couldn’t he let him be happy? Was it something out of his control? Or was it just because Dream was so stupid and selfish that he wanted to keep Nightmare all to himself? Was that it?
Was Dream bad? Was there something wrong with him?
…
You know when someone explodes at you, or a thought comes up that shakes you down to your core, and you get this feeling of shock so you just stand there for a while, thinking about it over and over again?
That’s how Dream felt.
There was something wrong with him, he saw it now. But he couldn’t do anything about it until he knew what it was and how to solve it. He couldn’t go to his friends, either, or anyone else, as he couldn’t tell them about his problems because he was supposed to be the happy one, the perfect one. He couldn’t break that illusion. And he certainly couldn’t seek help from his brother, as he would die within second of trying.
…
Dream was alone.
He would always be alone.
…
But that’s alright.
That’s what he deserved.
…
It didn’t make it hurt any less.
#my writing#oneshot#my fanfiction#dreamtale#undertale#dream sans#nightmare sans cameo#tw suicidal thoughts#man#this one is hard to tag for#i dont know why
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Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Pairing: Kageyama x Reader
Word Count: 1,653
Genre: Angst
Plot: Kageyama loves you, but you have someone else in your life.
He hated it. Every second of it. Every time he saw them together, his blood boiled. He tried to avert his eyes, to ignore it, to somehow pretend it wasn't true, but he always failed. She was supposed to be with him, not that four-eyed freak.
Yet, he saw them together every day. After practice, during classes, on the street while going home. It was bad enough that she was the manager of their team, she was also great friends with all the first years so they hung out with the 'happy couple' a lot.
Not that he didn't want to be her friend. It was one of the biggest reasons he got to see her so much as she was completely detached from the people who weren't in her inner circle. But that very fact also brought him great misery because 'he' was also there.
'He' was (Y/N)'s boyfriend. 'He' was Tsukishima Kei; one of the saltiest, rudest, but still the luckiest, jackass Kageyama had ever met. Although, according to some people, he had considerably sobered down since he started dating (Y/N), he was still as bitter with his words to Kageyama as ever
What did she even see in him? Didn't she realize that she should be with someone like Kageyama, not that jerk of a guy?
Kageyama knew that the blond idiot didn't deserve someone like (Y/N). He was sure that the bastard was two-timing her with some other bitch. He didn't care about (Y/N). He didn't even care about volleyball.
But all he could do was watch, with clenched fists, as the love of his life went with someone else, as she hugged someone else, as she kissed someone else.
This had become a daily routine with Kageyama. But there was one such day in his routine when everything fell apart.
He was already having a bad day, his sets were off because he hadn't had much sleep the previous night and the coach made them all do extra laps because of it. He was exhausted but still had to study for the upcoming test under the tutelage of Tsukishima and (Y/N) along with Hinata and Yamaguchi.
They were all at her place. The freak duo had to solve a few extra worksheets as practice while the other three took a break on the couch.
Frustrated because he wasn't understanding the sums, he looked up from his paper only to see everyone, except for the human tangerine beside him, glued to their phone screens. (Y/N) was sitting on the middle blocker's lap as he had an arm wrapped around her waist lazily and Yamaguchi was sitting on the other side of the couch.
Kageyama couldn't bear it anymore. He tried to get her attention.
"Ugh! I can't do this anymore. I give up. I'm taking a break."
(Y/N) looked up from her phone for a bit in concern
"Okay, but not for too long, the test is the day after tomorrow and you have to get at least passing marks." She said before going back to scrolling on her phone.
This angered him even more. Why wasn't she paying attention to him? He needed help with the sums and she wasn't even bothering to keep her phone aside. Didn't she care?
All these thoughts were swirling in his mind as he stretched back from his place on the floor. His eyes were flaming as he looked at the couple, enjoying each others' company.
Suddenly (Y/N) felt something hit her. She looked down to see a paper ball on her lap and looked up again to see her raven-haired friend getting ready to throw another one.
She ignored him. And this angered him even more. Suddenly the objects that he was throwing were no longer paper balls. They became erasers and pens and pencils and any other harmless things that he could get his hands on.
"Stop it, Kageyama" (Y/N) was starting to get frustrated. He could tell that some of his throws were even hurting her but she acted as if they didn't.
"What if I don't?"
"I won't teach you anymore!"
Kageyama simply shrugged "Doesn't bother me. I never liked you as a teacher anyway."
Why was he saying these things? He didn't know. He was just getting so annoyed, seeing the woman he loved, cuddling up to someone else.
After a few more shots at her, (Y/N) finally groaned and kept her phone aside. Kageyama's face brightened a bit, thinking she was finally going to come over to help him. But to his dismay, she only buried her face in Tsukishima's neck and let out a muffled "Stop!~"
Kageyama felt a pair of golden eyes glaring daggers at him. Tsukishima kept a protective arm around her, blocking the spot that Kageyama was targeting.
But the setter didn't care anymore, the fury in him rose as he saw (Y/N) wrap her arms around her boyfriend, clinging to him like a Koala. And the situation worsened as he saw Tsukishima whisper something in her ear, making her giggle.
Red clouded his vision as he felt his arms moving without his full consent, grabbing on to the first thing he could find and flinging it at them. It turned out to be a metal compass. Kageyama's face whitened as he realised what he had thrown.
But before Kageyama could tell (Y/N) to watch for the pointed instrument flying in her direction, Tsukishima caught it.
Now, Kageyama could practically feel the anger radiating from the blond as he swiftly slid the oblivious (Y/N) off his lap and made his way to the setter.
A chill ran down his spine as he got up as well, ready to face the middle blocker head-on. But to his surprise, Tsukishima simply strode towards him, leaned near his ear and whispered
"Oh king, are you jealous? Jealous of me, of my relationship with (Y/N). I always ignored it, thinking it was just a crush but now? Now you've started to harm her as well? It must be hard seeing us together so much when all you want is to be in my place. But let me tell you something, (Y/N) loves me. She will never love you. She's mine and I don't intend to let her go. So back. The hell. Off. And stop trying to shove your sad, pathetic life in my girlfriend's face just to gain a few sympathy points beca-"
Before he knew it, he had punched the blond right in the nose. He was just getting ready to swing again but he felt a pair of hands grab him. He saw (Y/N) jump from the couch and quickly run to her boyfriend's side.
He struggled against what he assumed were the hands of Hinata and Yamaguchi. Oh, how good it would have felt if only he could have gotten in one more hit, if not for the people grabbing him from behind.
He heard (Y/N) ask her boyfriend whether he was okay and turned around. As she looked up at Kageyama, he felt as if someone had driven a hot stake through his heart.
An expression of disgust mixed with anger and even a little bit of fear. That was what Kageyama could see as the woman he loved with all his heart cringed away from him.
His hands fell to his side, limp. He stared off into the distance, replaying the horrific moment in his head.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw (Y/N) rush to the kitchen to get some ice and then lead her boyfriend to her bedroom.
As soon as they disappeared, he fell to his knees. Tears of anger streaming down his face as he gripped his arms so tightly it hurt. Making sure that his nails pierced his skin. As if a sort of punishment for what he had done.
It was over. He would never have a chance with her again, not for a relationship, not even for a proper friendship. He was so ashamed that he immediately got up, swung his bag over his shoulders and stormed out of the house.
Why did this happen? Why only to him? He never got anything in life. No friends, no family, not even teammates. When he joined the Karasuno Volleyball Team, he thought, just for a second, that those days were over. That he finally had a place where he could be himself and no one would hate him or be scared of him or judge him.
With (Y/N), had found a new sense of belonging. A realisation that someone wanted to be with him, not despite his personality, but because of it.
She saw the good in him when he had hidden from himself. And for that, he would forever be grateful to her.
The only thing he wanted was to make her feel the same. To help her, change her life for the better, just as she had done for him.
But it was over. He was alone again. (Y/N) was someone who always forgave but never forgot. She would always act nice with him from now on, would always smile and talk politely with him.
For others, it wouldn't seem like such a big deal. They would tell him that it was all fine, at least she was still friends with him, right?
But Kageyama would know. He would know that the very fact that she was being nice to him was proof that she thought of him as nothing more than an acquaintance. Someone she was forced to be polite with because she just didn't trust them enough to show her true self.
And Kageyama was reminded of that every day after that. When she acted exactly the way he expected her to. When she was the nicest possible human being in front of him.
And he would never forgive himself for making her put her mask back on.
#kageyamaxreader#haikyuu oneshot#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#hq anime#character x reader#kageyama tobio#angst#haikyuu angst
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Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card!
(Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled).
To what extent would go to save someone else's life?
This prompt was always going to be difficult, but hey, I did manage to come up with an interesting solution to it... or, at least, that's why I'd like to think. I originally planned on having Naomi for "I Should Have Been Better" (as I told Doc multiple times, "what better character for it than Naomi?", but the guy is having the last laugh about this one now, that's for sure).
Some soul out there will have recognized the title from somewhere and understood what we're heading for because, yes, this entire story was inspired by the fact I wanted to use this semi-obscure reference as a title. You'll see what I mean later.
Anyway, this fic was pretty cool to write, even if, again, I suffer from writing too much build-up because I want to explore a universe I'm probably never going to touch ever again. This is starting to grow into a recurring issue with me, it'd seem. Oh well, if it inspires someone's work, then I'm all good with my penchant for copious amounts of worldbuilding.
Also, Alyssa and Naomi's relationship is wonderful and it's a shame I haven't written it before, what the fuck me.
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Androzani
Summary: When faced with the prospect of her newest companion's potential death, Naomi is ready to put everything on the line... even her life.
Fandom: Trauma Center/Team (fantasy AU)
Wordcount: 3K words
Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo
AO3 version available here.
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Her shoulders bear the weight of her losses – friends she had to leave behind, people whose death she couldn’t prevent, companions that never were – yet Naomi has kept moving, trying to shove her past behind her anywhere she walks, as if going through purgatory for eternity.
Her reputation has preceded her for decades, by now: the woman dressed in black with silver hair like the pale moonlight, going from place to place. Nobody knows of her true intent, whether she sides with good or evil, with life or death until they discover she is a healer who was banished from her native region due to some sort of catastrophic event long forgotten by history.
How ironic is that someone whose roots got cut off by a guillotine is still alive and roaming this world when, surely, her supposed people have all died from illness, injury or natural causes by now: it has, after all, been a thousand years since the “Corpse Whisperer” got forced into exile over the supposed curse she bore, the curse which spread an illness she still doesn’t have an answer to over towns and villages until it just disappeared with her.
On her travels, she met a lot of people, some of whom travelled with her for a time, some whom she barely got to know.
There was Nathan, a boy who had escaped from a doomsday cult. He was an eager companion, swearing he’d follow her until the end of the world would have she decided so, because she was the first friend he had ever gotten – he died saving her, rather than the other way around, when a spear plunged inside his chest and only came out when his blood had stopped flowing and his skin had turned to clay. She closed his eyes, buried him and marked the grave with white lilac, never to look back again.
There was Ivan, a man barely younger than her supposed age, who wanted to understand her and help her save people with his benevolent magic and overwhelmingly positive intentions. He fought hard against near-death situations, some where she had decided it was better to expect death than survival, but his optimism kept these people alive. She had tot leave him behind after he contracted a lethal disease and he couldn’t keep with her, leaving behind the bitter taste of failure, loneliness and uncertainty. She never went back to where their ways parted, afraid to know the inevitable answer as to his whereabouts.
There was Cassandra, a middle-aged woman with a stern face and an inexorable will. Despite all the hardships she had faced in her life, she had always stood back up, without even displaying any sort of pain. She had grown a reputation for her ruthless methods, being ostracized, and travelled with her so she could mend her ways and heal who she could with the apothecary knowledge she had been blessed with during her youth. She drank her own poison so she wouldn’t have to surrender in the face of certain defeat, plunging herself in an eternal sleep, while Naomi could only watch, wrists and ankles keeping her from acting, until these dissolved and she could avenge her fallen friend. Cassandra’s breath never went out, so Naomi made her a chamber hidden in a deep, dense forest in a hope that, someday, she’d find the antidote Cassandra had spilled on the ground.
There was Eglantine, a girl barely in her teens, who went to follow her because her parents had abandoned her and everybody else thought she was cursed because of her unusually pale skin, hair and eyes, thinking she was a stillborn animated by a malevolent spirit. Beneath her skin was an incredible potency, which she didn’t dare use until she needed to. Her short life ended in a tragic, senseless sacrifice when she rushed into battle and blocked an enemy’s way so Naomi could run away and “get out alive”, as she had screamed before taking an entire group of thieves with her to a certain death.
There have been a lot of them, over the centuries, but none of them have been immortals like her. None of them have healing magic as powerful as hers, none of them can endure so much. All of them have promised her to stay with her until she could settle down again, none of them could ever hold these promises, and it’s fine to her: she’s used to involuntarily broken promises. She’s used to the feeble nature of humans, of the uncursed ones.
She has grown more and more hesitant to accept new companions, over time. She tried to be cold towards them, to use her sombre reputation as a deterring agent – but some people are just in need of misery’s company, even her, and so they stick around until illness, injury, death, love or opportunity split them apart and the cycle continues. Naomi is used to it. She doesn’t even give her name to people anymore: it’s easier for both sides if these companions call them by whatever nickname the rumours about her convey.
The “Corpse Whisperer” is only one facet of her fictional identity, one of her many names and perhaps the least flattering. Over the years, she has accumulated them: “Cursed One”, “Black Healer”, “Reaping Doctor”, “Nameless Widow”, “Lady of the Last Sight”… Everywhere she’s gone, they’ve adopted a new name for her, to the point the name she was given at birth is nothing but lost to the sands of times, like numerous books she’s read, like the names of her fallen companions. So much things pass by your eyes when time doesn’t affect you anymore. Such is her curse, after all.
Even with time, the wounds left by her losses never truly scar. Every death in which she’s had some amount of responsibility weight on her shoulders, even if as time passes, she starts to forget more and more the individuality of her former partners. And, the heavier the luggage gets, the darker she tries to be, the more reclusive she behaves, so someone else doesn’t have to get hurt while following her on her eternal quest to heal others and, maybe, just maybe, finally find the way to end her own life.
Still, despite how much she has cried and screamed already, death continues to affect her when she can see blood on her hands or a cold limb at her feet. Even recently, she got bit in the throat by the death of two parents who had crossed her ways in unfortunate circumstances and she came too late to save them. As they let out their last breath, she met eyes with a curious little girl’s green irises full of life, and that’s when she knew – Naomi would be traveling with someone else once more.
Neither Alyssa nor she had a choice in the matter. The poor girl didn’t have any remaining relatives and the place where she lived was infested by werewolves, the same species that had killed her parents. Naomi couldn’t leave someone as young and frail as a ten-year-old girl suffer in the claws of the wolves on two legs that couldn’t control their animalistic urges. It quickly became her mission to redeem herself from letting two new persons die in front of her eyes by bringing Alyssa to a safe haven where she could have a normal life until Naomi herself found a solution to the lycanthropic problem.
However, and despite having guessed what happened, despite all of her tears and all of her pain, Alyssa has always told Naomi she didn’t hold anything against her, that she did her best when she tried to use her magic to bring back to life the recently deceased. Her smile, which at first was timid and more of a façade, has grown into an earnest one. Every time she sees it, it warms Naomi’s heart, but it reminds her head to remain cool and not to get attached because it’ll end badly for the both of them.
For a while, it was fine to have Alyssa around. They mostly went from village to village, from city to city, and Naomi made sure her protégée wasn’t in contact with the filth and contagion of the sick. Healed bone after healed bone, cured sickness after cured sickness, Naomi found herself enjoying the light-hearted chatters of Alyssa, going from refusing to answer her various questions on the world and herself to replying to them with more and more details.
It was already too late, by that point, but Naomi still liked to believe Alyssa would one day leave on her own terms and her wounds just heal for once. After all, they were only travelling together because Alyssa needed a new home to grow up in and have a chance at a normal life after the atrocious had happened.
However, that delusion has come to an end, as she’s now forced to make the biggest choice in her life, one that could cost her everything. At long last, the taste of death and the melody of the epilogue come back to her, making her feel more alive than ever, but at what price?
Alyssa has been poisoned with what she can only assume to have been a powerful, yet not instantly deadly substance. She missed catching its name when someone told her what was happening to Alyssa, what was causing her the rashes and the fever that keeps going up and up, but it reminds her of something – animantha toxaemia. A beautiful flower whose pollen has killed its fair share of humans, with no real cure known aside from a taxing healing spell, one forbidden not by choice, but by need.
Their meeting with the flower was unfortunate. Alyssa and she were on the run from some unforeseen adversaries and, once they had successfully lost them in the forest, Alyssa got curious about the deep purple beauty of the flower’s petals. Alyssa touched it when she inspected it before Naomi could remove the girl’s fingers from the stem and petals. Both are running away from death. Quite ironic, coming from the woman who was once nicknamed “the Silver Reaper”, but… what matters isn’t her fate, it’s Alyssa’s.
Naomi has managed to get them both out of the forest, but unfortunately, she’s starting to feel the paralysis effects of the flower in her legs, and that’s when she realizes she must have been in contact with a lethal dose of the flower’s poison. One thing the curse hasn’t protected her from is illnesses of this kind, and judging by the fever poor Alyssa has fallen victim to, she doesn’t count on staying alive much longer. She’d have expected herself to be pleasantly surprised by the prospect of finally passing away, since she has seen so much already, and roaming the Earth for about four centuries is starting to take a toll on her spirit – but she has never felt so alive, because danger is a powerful catalyser, and she has a life to save.
A final life, judging by what she needs to pay for what she’s about to do, but a worthy price to pay and perhaps the life that has mattered the most to her throughout her long, elongated life. She’s torn about having to leave Alyssa to her own devices, but they’re in a village, now, and Naomi hopes the inhabitants that took enough pity on them to lend them the small house they’re currently in will help her. She’s still young, barely fourteen, and she doesn’t want Alyssa to struggle again once she’s gone.
There’s no time to question it, however. The toxaemia has four stages, the last being an inexorable rise of internal temperature until the affected person inevitably dies. However, she can’t let that happen, and she has to act quick, because getting the both of them back to a safer haven has taken so long that Alyssa is at least in the third stage and, again, judging from her temperature, is crossing into the last before… before the inevitable happens.
There are numerous times where she wanted to give her life to save another, but never got to do it because the other person died before her eyes before she ever could or because they did it first, leaving her alone again, most of them eternally unaware of her immortality. Now, however, she’s the one who has to do it, because Alyssa isn’t a mage like her, wasn’t born with the ability to cast spells, and she’s someone who deserves to live life at its fullest, unlike her.
Naomi has made her decision the moment she touched the flower and nothing is going to make her go back on her decision – aside from the idea to leave Alyssa alone, but the girl has made some friends in the village due to how kind she is, so at least, Naomi has some hope. If her companions have shown her something, it’s that there still are good people in this world, no matter how many atrocities she’s seen.
Almost three centuries ago, she learnt spells that are now forbidden. One of them, whose original scroll has been burnt in an attempt to silence its deadly power, is the antidote to animantha poisoning. There may have been another way, hidden away in a forgotten script or still being conceived by some hermit mage or witch living in remote woods, but she doesn’t have the time to question it. All she can do, now, is apply the formula as she’s learnt it, hoping her spell memory has exceeded human standards. The curse should have at least given her that, if she was to become the Codex of Magic.
Her last name – the “Codex of Magic”, the true purpose of the curse inflicted on her so many years ago. How ironic, considering she’s lent all of the scripts she’s copied again in the bag she always carries with her, that she dies by the hands of one of the spells she was meant to preserve for prosperity. Even if she survives, she won’t be able to use the spell on herself afterwards in a timely manner, so she hopes Alyssa carries on her will. That’s all she wants.
Ignoring the pain in her limbs and her own rising fever, Naomi gathers her powers in both palms of her hands, summoning all of her healing prowess for one last show. The spell calls for specific incantations, which flow out of her mouth as if she was born to say them at some point – something about summoning the power of hope itself, serving as its vessel for a miracle, giving up one’s life for the sake of another. The spell was named “Hope of the Unending Agape” for a reason, after all, and Naomi doesn’t have anything else to lose.
The amount and intensity of the mana running through her entire body is searing her from the inside as her hands carefully cradle Alyssa on the bed of the house, cupping the girl’s face as the mage hopes it will work as intended. Alyssa must survive, it’s all that matters, she doesn’t care about the price of it all, just give this girl her life back, don’t take her away from the mortal realm so soon, not when she has so much to see and discover, so much to live and smile at.
Hope can take her soul, she doesn’t care, but that flower won’t take away Alyssa’s, she swears on her life. One has lived for too long and the other is too young to pass away.
This spell feels like inflicting agony on oneself, so her vision is starting to give in and so do most of her sense following it. She’s burning on the inside, either from the spell or from the toxaemia, but there’s no way for her to distinguish anymore. What she knows, however, is that Alyssa’s skin is cooling down and her tremors are fading away. This is more than a relief: she’ll survive. Alyssa will see another day and have the life she deserves, sunny and beautiful.
Little by little, frame by frame, Alyssa’s complexion regains its colour, the red stains on her cheeks disappearing. The sweat that was pearling on her skin fades away. Her frowned feature relax and give way to a peaceful expression, as if she had been sleeping all along. It’s a beautiful sight, really.
However, the same can’t be said for Naomi, as a huff of platinum smoke escapes from her lips and she collapses in pain. She has exhausted every cell of her being, or so it feels like, and it’s up to the curse to see if she’s worth saving – she doubts it, because a curse is a curse, and being a benefactor for its host would go against its own nature.
It very much feels like she’s dying, at long last. Her vision is mostly black now, safe for a couple blurry shapes, and most of her senses have already given in: her hearing has been replaced with a sort of slightly disturbed silence, she can’t tell what she’s touching and the only taste in her mouth is that of copper and iron. All she can feel are the tears going down her cheeks and the relief that, at least, someone is getting out of this alive.
Despite technically meeting her end at the hands of a toxic flower, Naomi doesn’t see it this way: she views her demise as the ultimate act to save a life and, as such, doesn’t have the shadow of a regret. Sure, there may have been things she’d have wished to do before she’d die, and her survival is a very unlikely gambit on the curse acting up; but they don’t matter compare to the reasons why she did such a thing, why she took on someone’s deadly pain onto herself.
The only thing she’ll be missing is the warmth of Alyssa’s voice…
When Alyssa wakes up from something that was between a dream and a nightmare, which she can’t remember aside from the magnificent gaze of a solar goddess looking to her eyes, she quickly realizes what she saw in her sleep wasn’t a figment of her imagination – and immediately knows, upon touching long and slender lukewarm hands, she has a task to accomplish to pay back a life-changing favour.
#bad things happen bingo#trauma center#trauma team#naomi kimishima#alyssa breslin#empathic healing#my writing#tw death#angst#bthb
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Have realized that one reason I love Dostoevsky is how often his characters have to Do Things while sick? One of the main antagonists in C&P is Raskolnikov’s inability to think straight or stay upright for long periods of time. I love that. I’ve been reading a lot of T/M/A sickfic (w-well, Jon sickfic, let’s not overgeneralize), but much of what I’ve found leaves me w/ an itch unscratched,* and, I think that’s what it is.
Like don’t get me wrong there’s a stag ger ing amount of fic out there w/ the premise “Jon shows up to work sick,” and I am so glad it exists. But most of it is, like--Jon shows up to work so ill he can’t stay awake at his desk; one of the assistants drives him home or drags him to the cot in the spare room. Or, Jon shows up to work in so much pain that after two or three hours he physically cannot move; one of the assistants &c. Or with a fever so high he’s too delirious even to drink water, and one of the assistants has to take him to A&E for a bag of fucking saline, jesus christ Jon why are you like this. And don’t get me wrong, I can subsist fine on these! They’re my potatoes and molasses
But this is not my favorite kind of “Jon shows up to work sick”-fic. I think it is for many--I have observed that lots of people in this fandom see. Jon’s tendency to push through crap, hide scary things that happen to him even from people whose own safety it might help to know about them, and wave away/refuse other people’s concerned gestures. And respond to that with “I want to see something break him”--usually so Martin (or Tim or Daisy or Georgie or Basira) has to put his pieces back together. I like this! Again, really don’t want to come off as blowing raspberries at it
I just like best fic where he Does Things while sick other than Be Taken Care Of. Where the scenes where he’s trying to work (or socialize or track down a monster or whatever else) serve some function in the story other than proof Jon should not try to do this right now, I guess. You know--where his illness plays a role in the plot like illness does in a Dostoevsky novel! I’ve seen plenty of T/M/A equivalents of the scene in BK where Alyosha interrupts Ivan’s dream about the devil and listens to him rave and watches over him until he falls asleep, but. Give me a T/M/A equivalent of the part where Ivan staggers out into the snow after visiting Smerdyakov, and proves to himself that he’s thinking straight by looking after the peasant he knocked down earlier. Or oh my god, how about an equivalent of the part in C&P where Raskolnikov goes back to the pawnbroker’s apartment to hear the sound of her bell again! Or the part where he forces himself to endure his mother and sister’s visit even though he feels evil before them (and even though he ended up on the floor last time he tried), and Dostoevsky describes his stoical expression as that of a man who’s undergone a painful operation. Or--god, brave new world, dare I even to say?--of the scene in The Idiot where Lizaveta Prokofyevna comes to see Myshkin, expecting to find him at death’s door, and then, once she discovers him fully dressed and upright, thinks he must not be ill at all and keeps her whole family at his house till after midnight.
Just--does it scare you guys, how in T/M/A canon when Jon goes right back to work after an injury he gets away with it? How he never learns his lesson, nothing bad enough ever happens to him to make him stop doing that? Does it feel wrong to you?--give you an itch to fix it, maybe? Is that maybe part of where the urge to break him comes from? Because... yeah, right there with you, but. I am constantly hungry for art that lives with that fear, that stares at it, rather than trying to paper over it with stories about bodily suffering as an aberration that suspends the normal rules. In fanfic I have rather less lofty aspirations, lmao, since, I mean, even I’m not horny for my fear of the uncaring universe (unlike certain Fairchilds). But in real life, pushing yourself till you shatter into pieces and your boyfriend (or friend, or coworker) puts them back together isn’t how you learn to take better care of yourself.
Like? I’m not saying real life is “all h, no c”; it isn’t. Nor am I saying no one’s ever gonna drive you to the hospital if you come into work with a 104-degree fever; of course they will. I’m saying that a lot of the time, in real life you push and push and push and never shatter. You come in with a 101-degree fever, and it’s really fucking boring because you can’t concentrate, but no one notices you’re ill until you tell them, at which point they ask once, maybe twice if you shouldn’t be at home, and then change the subject for fear you’ll think they’re judging you. Whatever milestone you tell yourself you have to hit before you can stop? Either you’ll endure countless unanticipated miseries on the way but never find it, or you’ll pass it and think, “Huh, that’s weird--I don’t even feel that bad. Guess I’ll go another mile.”
And I guess I crave the intellectual company of stories that know that? So, like, fic-wise, give me mundane, unrelieved misery, or give me a Jon who decides not to push this time. Rather than having his body decide that for him.
*N.B. I reblog only exceptions to this rule! Please don’t take what I say here as reflecting badly on anything in this blog’s T/M/A tag
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Series: Semblance
Title: Patriciate
Fandom: Jak and Daxter
Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI
Characters: Jak, Daxter, Samos, Keira, Kid!Jak, Ashelin, Torn, Tess
Tags: Worldbuilding, Accidentally King of Haven!Jak, hurt/comfort, things go wrong, things get better, things get worse again, slow build, slow burn, slow to update, cross posted, fantasy racism, canon divergence, been meaning to share this here
Summary: “It’s yours,” Jak said softly. “Keep it…remember where you come from. At least one of us should remember….”
If Jak knew the consequences of that one, selfish choice…well, he’d probably have made the same decision either way.
Bloodlines mean a lot to any Havenite, whether you were actually born in the city or not.
Jak let the sounds of the Naughty Ottsel wash over him. He kept his forehead down on the table surrounded by his arms, a glass of whatever Daxter grabbed for him from the bar in his hands. Occasionally his ears twitched as he registered a conversation from elsewhere in the bar, but for the most part he let his mind drift in a sort of laze reminiscent of his time on the beaches of Sandover. Here Jak remained simply Jak. Not King Jak. Not Jak of the House of Mar. Just simple, old Jak who happened to absorb dark eco like water and turn into a monstrous beast when angry.
Jak never felt more grateful that only a select number of people even know about the kid, let alone the kid and him being the same person almost thirteen years apart.
“You know the Commander is looking everywhere for you?”
Jak huffed. “Isn’t everyone?” he grumbled, morosely, but didn’t bother to look up at the young Underground soldier Daxter all but adopted. He could hear her laugh faintly at his misery, or possibly at the irony of the situation. Jak sighed and shifted until his chin rested on the table. He debated the merits of nudging the drink over to tilt against his lips; could he maintain the necessary balance or would he spill the precious mixture all over the table?
“No one knows you’re here, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” she said. From this angle Jak could see her chin nestled in the palm of her hand, and he had to fight down a rather violent flinch. He couldn’t stop his ears’ twitch back, even if he could contain his facial reaction.
Fire-bright, darkly amused stared down at him; a face nestled on a hand with a grin he’d begun to loathe, a twisted smile, pain—so much pain, so much fear, hatred—he couldn’t stop it. He tried. He tried.
She sighed, shifted, and turned her head away.
“Sorry.”
Observant, Jak grumbled internally. He let his head fall back against the table, if only to hide the sudden burst of shame that wanted to grace his features.
“I know I look like him.”
Jak snorted.
“You and a prick,” Jak mumbled.
“Ain’t that the truth?” she laughed self-depreciatingly, and Jak could hear her tug up the red scarf that almost all members of the Underground seemed to wear. He wondered, not for the first time, if it actually marked them or not.
Jak also wondered if the red scarf he wore—the one now tightly wrapped up like a hood over his hair, the one he’d worn for over two years now—meant to foreshadow his eventual membership into the organization. Such thoughts inevitably lead down the road towards questions of his own independence—were his thoughts actually his anymore?—so he quickly stomped them down.
Still, Jak huffed another sigh and shifted to peer only at his drink, she made for decent company—her uncanny resemblance or not. He just wished she were less observant.
“You never ask for my name, you know?” she murmured. By the sound of the way the cloth moved, Jak figured she shifted her head in the direction of Daxter’s voice. Jak figured by the rise and fall of a story told it came from somewhere over by the bar itself.
“You don’t seem to mind Dax’s nicknames,” Jak shrugged, “and you don’t offer it.”
She hummed, tucked her feet up—probably towards her chin. She stood taller than him—everyone stood taller than him except for Tess, Jak admitted grumpily—but with better proportioned limbs than Jak’s gangly own.
“I’ve not really had a nickname,” she said. “Not one I liked before.”
“Dax’s good at ‘em,” Jak murmured, then shifted his drink closer to his face.
“You’ll get your clothes soaked doing that.”
“So?”
“Do you want to ruin your lovely red hood?”
“Drat.”
Jak let his head slip back down again, let the noise wash over him. Even her, the sound of her breathing and heartbeat, of her voice, he found more soothing than the time at the palace. He wondered if he could just sleep behind the bar at night instead of the plush bed Ashelin all but ordered him to use.
“Think Tess would mind if I slept here from now on?” Jak asked.
“I think it’s more if Lady Praxis would mind, instead.”
“Ashelin can shove it,” Jak grumped, and then opened his mouth to continue on when his companion tapped the table with her nails. It stood for the unspoken warning signal that someone grew close to listening distance who wasn’t aware of Jak being more than simply Jak.
“Hi,” his companion chirped, and Jak’s ear twitched to the sound of feet that thumped and thunked in an even rhythm.
“Hello there, firecracker,” Sig’s deep baritone eased what little tension that drifted into Jak’s shoulders away, and prompted Jak to raise a hand in greeting. “Hello there, cherry. You drinking yourself into a stupor?”
“I wish,” Jak growled. He sighed and sat up, gaze stubbornly and morosely on his drink.
Gorgeous, firecracker—whatever nickname people used for her in the moment—shifted over so that Sig could sit down beside her. Jak glanced up, took in the weary features, and glanced back down with a frown. Sig looked worse than the last time Jak saw him. How long ago had that even been? He remembered Sig at the party, but after that? Jak sighed again. He sighed a lot lately.
“You look troubled, cherry,” Sig arched an eyebrow, and Jak shifted one shoulder up. His arm twisted slightly, his brow ticked down—without Daxter no one really noticed the full meaning in the motion. “Boring, huh?”
“Close,” Jak mumbled, “and yeah, kind of. Not a lot to do, I guess.”
“Not a lot you’re getting to do,” Firecracker pointed out, and Sig arched the other eyebrow. “Commander Torn has Jak on ‘hero leave’ for the time being.” She even did the finger quotes and eye roll that Daxter would at the words, even added the little sneer. Jak would’ve called it cute, once, except now after all this time he found someone mimicking Daxter a bit creepy.
“That what he calling it?” Sig questioned with a snort.
“That’s what Dax’s calling it,” Jak corrected faintly, picked up his drink, and took a sip. Tess wandered over, dropped Sig off his drink, and then wandered away with a smile and a wink. “Torn calls it needed rest.” Jak scowled. Ashelin called it getting caught up on all the shit Samos should’ve taught, Jak internally grumped. Like he even really wanted the lessons to begin with.
Precursors he was the King of Hell. Jak dropped his head back to the table with a faint whine.
“I just want to shoot things in peace,” he sounded like a whiny teenager, damn him, but he hated politics.
“I hear ya,” Sig nodded, tipped back his drink, and sighed. “What with this crazy traveling embargo Haven’s got up and running I can’t go salvage crap.” Sig glanced to Jak. “Your friend Ashelin tell you anything about that?”
Jak huffed. “I’ve had enough of Ashelin right now, Sig.”
“That bad?”
Jak scowled at his drink, sighed, and stood up.
“I’m going to go find Keira,” he mumbled, and started off. He only paused when Sig called out, “By the way like your new headpiece!” For a moment Jak thought Sig meant his hair, then he remembered his scarf and grinned.
“Trying something new,” Jak shot back, and slipped out the door of the Naughty Ottsel.
Keira peaked her head out from underneath the zoomer she worked on when Samos went quiet. She’d just begun to actually fall into a rhythm to the tone of his lecture, so the sudden stop felt almost jarring. The aged sage stood tiredly, a contemplative frown on his face, gaze off in the distance. Keira sighed, pulled herself completely out from under the zoomer, and wiped her hands down with a rag.
“Daddy?” she asked, a faint tilt to her head in curious worry.
“Hm? What?” Samos jerked around twisted around, the logs at his feet clacked noisily on the metal-and-stone ground of the garage. “Ah, Keira. Yes, where was I?”
“Daddy are you okay?” Keira questioned. She set the rag down on the bench and walked over toward Samos, hands snapped out to grab him by the elbow. “Maybe you should sit down?”
“Keira I’m fine,” Samos brushed her grasping fingers away with a harrumph. “There is merely a lot on my mind, so much to prepare…so much you need to know!”
“I’m not going to take up anything political for a few years, daddy,” Keira pointed out carefully. “Just because you and the rest of the Underground decided to…push Jak into this doesn’t mean I have to suddenly do everything either. I’ve got a good job here, a good thing going…and after everything that happened this city needs a good mechanic and some decent distractions.”
Samos sighed and didn’t resist as Keira moved him towards the couch set up on the other side of the mechanic pit. Kiera had the thing installed after the fourth time Jak popped up with the kid out of nowhere, intent on hiding from KG patrols. There was even a bowl for Krieg, the crocadog—although where the darn thing got off to Keira didn’t know.
“I know, Keira,” Samos said wearily, “I just don’t want you to be unprepared. I didn’t anticipate this outcome, and….”
“…now Jak is floundering,” Keira rolled her eyes. “Yeah, daddy, I’ve heard the story. Daxter won’t stop about how you should’ve told Jak something—even if it was just stories.”
“I tried…I did, Keira,” Samos shook his head. “That boy never listened. In one ear, out the other—if only he listened then none of this would be the way it is!”
Keira frowned. She’d heard Samos make the same arguments, and yeah she understood his concerns. As kids Jak, Daxter, and sometimes even herself were quite willful. Jak and Daxter always got into trouble, always into a mess or a location they should’ve been well away from—a part of Keira worried about them, too—but in the years in Haven they’d grown up. They were stronger, older, and world-wearier than Keira even expected to see.
“Daddy…” Keira said softly, and nibbled on her lip. “We’ve…put a lot on Jak’s shoulders.”
“He’s a strong boy,” Samos waved off her concerns. “He can handle it.”
“We put a whole city on his shoulders,” Kiera pointed out. “Sandover was one thing, saving the Sages was one thing, stopping the Acherons was one thing…it involved travel and danger and fear, but daddy? This is a city. This isn’t just the Sages, or the Acherons, or dealing with Lurkers. There’s so much to Haven and Jak…I think Jak needs a break.”
“He’s fine.”
Keira didn’t believe Jak to be fine. In fact he barely reminded her of the Jak she knew. Sure the zoomer races made her think of the times Jak helped her test the A-Grav, and the few times she saw Jak on the hoverboard—it was like Jak surfing on land instead of off the beaches of Sandover. There were little things, small snippets of the fourteen year old boy she knew, but the majority of Jak stood as a tightly wound ball that just waited to go off. Kiera didn’t like to admit it, but she feared Jak in a way now. She feared what Jak became, what had been done to Jak these years in Haven.
“Dax said he spent two years in the prison,” Keira whispered. “That he spent two years looking for Jak.”
“Probably did the boy a world of good,” Samos harrumphed. “A little solitude to think never hurt anyone!”
“Daddy…” Keira sighed. “I…don’t think that’s what prison was like for Jak.”
Erol never once mentioned Jak being in prison, back in the first year that she’d asked. In fact he seemed completely unaware of who Jak actually was, unlike during the races this past year. More times than Keira liked to admit Erol came into her garage, charm and wit in equal measure, just to ask her about the mysterious racer whose zoomer she worked on. Keira didn’t mind gushing to Erol—this was Jak, after all—and given Erol’s response at the time he obviously knew who Jak was.
“Be careful, Keira. Your friend is dangerous, more than you know.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Samos waved aside her concerns.
“If you say so, daddy,” Keira mumbled, and not for the first time wondered how long Samos sat in the prison.
Jak never did tell her just where he found Samos, but given the haunted look in his eyes it wasn’t anywhere nice. Keira patted Samos hand, gave him a wane sort of smile, and shifted over to her zoomer.
“You go back to work, dear,” Samos sighed, “and I think I’ll head over to Main Town and the Palace District.”
“Oh?”
“I have to reintroduce myself to what remains of the sage lines,” Samos continued with a huff. “Now that they know what I did in my errant youth there is quite a lot to make up for. Not that what I did was wrong; dare I say half this city wouldn’t be around if it weren’t for the Underground!”
“If you say so,” Keira said offhandedly, and Samos hobbled his way out of the garage. Keira watched him go, lips pressed thin. She looked back to the zoomer, and then looked away. Too much noise in her head, too many thoughts and concerns. Too many memories.
“Keira, I mean it; be careful around Jak. He’s not the boy you knew.”
Keira closed her eyes.
“Neither were you,” she muttered to the memory, and stepped around the zoomer. Maybe tinkering with the precursor artifacts were a better idea. Zoomers, right now, had too many bitter memories.
Halfway towards the Stadium and Jak decided not to visit Keira’s instead. He turned his feet over toward Main Town, and from there toward the upper noble houses. He kept his walk toward the shadows and fingered the passes in his pocket. Over the year he’d gotten quite the collection going. Red, the original card he’d found, then green, and then yellow for the areas connected to the agricultural sectors. Once, somewhere in the middle of the year when his rage started to mellow into something a bit less uncontrolled, but still fairly feral, Jak was given a pass for the upper crust of Main Town.
Now Jak found himself in control of two, but then he never did mention the first pass to anyone but Dax. He picked out the two passes from his pocket and stared at them contemplatively. Vin, way back in the early days, actually manage to lock the passes together into a wallet and Jak meant to use it—he did—but he always seemed to forget about the thing somewhere. Ashelin gave him something similar after being named King—said he should keep it on him at all times. Jak stuffed it into the sock drawer back at the palace in disgust.
If a wallet Jak must use, then he’d use the one Vin gave him—wherever it might’ve gone. He trusted Vin over anyone else with matters of technology, if only because Vin made sure Jak could follow along. Sure a lot of what the older man said went right over his head for the most part, but the fast-paced speed talking always felt like a slice of home. The way his eyes virtually glowed when he finally took off his goggles, the way they swirled like liquid blue eco, felt familiar. It reminded Jak that eco saturated blood beyond dark eco still existed in the world. That there was more than just dark eco here if you knew where to look. It felt like a slice of heaven in hell.
A house, lopsided and more ‘old world’ compared to the metal walls set in square designs with neat and perfect gardens, loomed up ahead. It looked rickety, worn and well cared for, and still somewhat chaotic and stranger. Tubes, wires—electronic devices of some make or model that Jak couldn’t understand—poked out of holes and out of a couple of windows. The eclectic design felt reminiscent of the Blue Sage’s hut that Jak sometimes visited as a child.
Jak slipped out of the shadows and into the blinking lights of the house in front of him. He pushed open the gate, ignored the way it creaked and groaned, and slipped past the overgrown front lawn. The flowers were pretty, as were the weeds that had over taken it, and the few pieces of discarded technology that seemed to thrive with the overgrowth. Calmly Jak picked his way towards the front door, raised his hand, and waved with a sort of faint smile.
“Uhm, hi,” he said, and shifted nervously on his feet. “I’m…sorry I didn’t call ahead. I—” The door swung open before Jak could continue, and Jak closed his eyes. He took in a shuddering breath and stepped past the threshold. Behind him the door slid back shut, and when Jak looked up it was into the eclectic, electric eyes of the person he came to visit.
“Jak.”
Jak breathed out a heavy, shuddering breath. “Hi, Zoe,” he mumbled. “Sorry I haven’t called.”
Matriarch Zoe smiled softly, the drawn lines of her aged face gentle and caring even as she lightly brushed her fingers against the red of his scarf, as if to tuck invisible hair behind his ear.
“You came now, child,” she said carefully, “and that’s all that matters. That’s all he’d want.”
Jak nodded once.
“Tea?” Zoe asked. “I was making Vin’s favorite.”
“Yeah,” Jak muttered. “That’d be great.”
#fic: patriciate#fic: semblance#jak and daxter#accidentally king of haven#canon divergence#wip#fanfic
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First Love (2/?)
Here it is dear @xceafh I hope you like it 😊
Also it is alot different from what you requested, but I decided to make this into a little series, because I have a lot of ideas for this and it would be to much for one part. So there is going to be a third part for sure, maybe even a fourth. I don’t know yet.
Also let me know if any of you want to be tagged in the upcoming stuff for First Love. I’ll try to make a tag list for this 😅
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (coming soon)
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries, The Originals
(Elijah Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson (coming soon))
Summary: Your ancestors make sure that you’ll keep your promise and it’s going to be interesting.
Words: +1,6k
Warnings: swearing, angst (just being upset I guess), alcohol
Y/F/D = Your favorite drink
Last Time:
For a moment it was silent. And then Niklaus clapped his hands and looked at me.
“So, let’s talk about that promise you just made.”, he smiled and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Because I don’t want to change who I am.”
***
We started to walk back to the house and I looked at him unsure.
“That’s going to be a problem then.”, I answered and smiled nervously.
“Oh it’s not. I’ve known most of the witches from your coven. They know that I am not willing to change who I am.”, Niklaus answered and let go of my arm. I stopped my walk.
“Because you killed most of them, haven’t you?”, I answered.
“You could say so. I prefer to say that I defended myself.”, he said and turned back around.
“Of course you did.”, I breathed heavily and walked past him, back inside the house.
Esther was gone. I couldn’t see her anymore. Just like Elijah. He’s probably taking care of her.
“Care to explain what the hell you did out there?”, Niklaus asked when he had caught up to me and was next to me again.
“Isn’t it that obvious? I peformed magic.”, I answered and shrugged with my shoulders.
“That’s not what I meant little witch. Stop playing games with me.”, Niklaus said and sounded a little angry.
“Or else what?”, I challenged him.
“You don’t want to know that my dear.”
“Oh, I have a good idea of what's going to follow.”, I smiled sweetly at him and spook a little spell to make it unbearable for him to be around me.
I could hear him gag and I laughed quietly.
“Stupid little witch.”, I heard him say which made me laugh louder.
I walked towards one of the many bars and ordered some water. With the glass in my hands I started to walk around again. I could see Finn, Rebekah and Kol talking with eachothers. Just as I was about to speak a little spell to hear what they were saying, their heads turned in my direction and all three looked at me. Kol looked so tortured again. As if something was putting him in a lot of pain.
The sick feeling in my stomach returned and all I wanted to do was to leave this house. I was here for what I was invited to. So I’m free to go, right? As if anyone would care anyway.
I put the glass down and walked towards the exit. Everything I wanted to do was to go home, curle up under my warm blanket and sleep for four weeks straight. For some reason looking at Kol, Finn and Rebekah made me sick as fuck.
I walked out the door and straight to my car. I just needed to get in and drive back home. Not a big deal. I can drive. I can drive in the dark and the last sip of alcohol is was also... ...half an hour ago? That’s fine. I can leave. It’s fine.
Then why the fucking isn’t my stupid car opening? I had pressed the stupid button at least 1000 times and I had even rattled the handle. It just did not open. Fuck it, who needs a car when there are buses and trains. Besides, I'm a witch, I can do it without a car.
So I took off my high heels, picked them up and walked home. I walked the long way down to the gate. Pebbles, by the way, are an invention of men who never have to walk over them with bare feet. I cursed every little pebble and as I stood in front of the gate, it crossed my mind that I could also enchant them to make them soft. But I could also simply magically create flat shoes, which will certainly be useful for the further way home.
And that is exactly what I did as I walked through the gate. Or at least I tried. In front of the gate was an invisible barrier, which I couldn't get through.
"That little bitch Esther," I murmured quietly and quickly spoke a spell that should undo her "protection" spell. But when I still couldn't get through the gate, I realized it wasn't Esther's protection spell. It wasn't even a protection spell.
"You're kidding me, aren't you?" I said and tried another spell, but it didn't help either, which was clear. "You're gonna lock me in here? You're really gonna lock me in here? With the vampires. With the fucking original vampires! They' re gonna kill me. They're all gonna kill me."
Beaten, I turned around again and looked at the house in front of me, where I was forced to spend the next time, if not the rest of my life. Why did I always have to be so damn forward? Did I have to promise to change them back to humans? Couldn't I have come up with something else? Like turning them into a bunny, for example? That would be easier.
What am I supposed to do now? I can't leave the stupid property and one day they' ll notice me anyway. And I didn't want to sleep in a bush either.
Why were my stupid ancestors so damn specific about everything? I could just as easily fulfill my promise with something warm to drink in my cuddly bed. Wouldn't be a problem. No, of course they were melodramatic again and had to lock me up here. With the crazy ones. Great. Thanks, you idiots.
So I trotted back to the house and on the way there I decided to get drunk without restraint. I intensified my little spell that's keeping Niklaus away from me, and extended it to the entire Mikaelson family. Only Elijah I spared. I liked him. Somehow.
In the house I immediately headed to the first bar I saw and ordered Y/F/D, drank my drink straight down and ordered a new one. I did the same and with the third glass I resumed my tour through the house, even though I already knew the area where the guests were allowed to go. So I extended my tour to the "private" rooms. At some point I would know all of them anyway, after all I would stay here for a while. I wondered for how long my ancestors would go on playing this game. At least I knew that my mother's crazy aunt had a lot of stamina when it came to punishment. And my father's mother, my grandmother, also loved punishment. What kind of stupid family did I live in? Who loved punishing people? Who loved punishing their own family?
I drank my drink, walked around aimlessly and watched the Mikaelson family trying to get closer to me, but each time they soon started puking. The drunker I got, the funnier it got. Eventually I turned the tables and walked towards them, which made them start to run. I had to control myself not to laugh out loud. It looked too funny watching Finn puff out his cheeks because he was gagging. Or the look Rebekah got on her face. It was just amusing.
Unfortunately this game got boring after a while and so I decided to go outside again. It was damn cold outside and a dress with thin straps and a huge slit on the side didn't really help against the cold. But I was more than drunk, so I didn't really care. Maybe I was lucky and would freeze to death. Would my spirit be trapped here too then? That would be terrible. Being tied to this place forever.
For a while I just walked through the garden until I found a bench a little bit away from everything and sat down. With my back to the house. I just looked up at the sky and watched the stars. I wondered how much they' d already seen in their lives.
I heard footsteps behind me, but I didn't really cared who was coming. I couldn't walk away anyway.
A thin blanket was put around my shoulders before someone sat down beside me. A quick glance was enough to know that it was Elijah.
"Were you not about to leave?", Elijah asked.
"Can't.", I murmured back without looking at him.
"Why may I ask?"
"Because my ancestors are little shitheads who won't let me go until I have kept my promise," I replied fiercely and immediately felt a slight tug in my head. That must have been my mother's crazy aunt. She has always hated me.
"Care to explain?"
"They have bound me to this property. I can't leave because there's a barrier around the entire property. I can't leave until I keep my promise. And since that is very unlikely, I will be stuck here forever.", I said. Maybe I was slurring my words, I was not quite sure.
"Why did you help us at all? We have brought nothing but misery to your coven."
"I don't know. I just had to.", I shrugged.
Elijah didn't say anything else. He just sat there. Kept me company. I could feel myself getting tired. Magic and alcohol made me sleepy.
Elijah noticed that immediately.
"Come. I'll show you a room where you can stay.", he said and extended his hand to me.
Without thinking I took it and let him pull me up. My eyes were heavy and I coulnd't think straight. Was the sun rising back there? Was it already so late? Or was it just some lights from the party?
I didn't know and to be honest I didn't really cared. I was exhausted and I just wanted to sleep.
I didn't really remember how I got into the room either. All I knew was that Elijah had helped me. And after that, it was all just a blur. Damn alcohol.
And please, don’t ask me where the stupid blanket went that Elijah put around my shoulders because I don’t have a fucking clue.
#the vampire diaries imagine#the vampire diaries#the vampire diares imagines#the originals#the originals imagine#the originals imagines#kol mikaelson#kol mikaelson imagine#elijah mikaelson#elijah mikealson imagine#klaus mikaelson#klaus mikaelson imagine#First Love#lills pieces
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Nothing’s Fair in Love and War - Two
Title: Nothing’s Fair in Love and War
Fandom: Peaky Blinders
Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Original Female Character (Daphne Scott)
Warnings: Swearing and mentions of violence (not too much, tough)
Word Count: 4245
Author's Note: Happy New Year, everyone. Here's another part of Daphne and Thomas story. Hope you all like it. I want to thank everyone who liked/commented on the previous part, it makes me very happy to know that you are enjoying it. I will try to uptade it every tuesday/wednesday.
A special thanks to @livvtheangel for the lovely feedback, it made me really happy.
As always, this haven’t been proofread, so feel free to report any mistakes back to me; warnings are expecific for each chapter. Also, your feedback is also highly appreciated.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.
Masterlist
Chapter Summary: Tommy tries to discover more about Daphne while making the necessary arrangements for his deal with Solomons. In the meanwhile, Daphne meets some old friends that try to ease her worries about Alfie hiding things from her and starts to question her feelings towards the Brummie ganster.
Two
“What did you discovered?” Tommy asked to John when he entered the private room of the Garrison.
“Not much.” Arthur was right behind him, closing the door. They both took his sits before John started talking. “Her name is Daphne Jane Scott, she was born in London, same year as me, appeared in Camden Town with Solomons after the war. She lives with him since them, always worked at the bakery, they are usually together in social events but despite the rumors about them people in Camden Town seem to believe that they have a brother-sister relationship.” Tommy exhaled a puff of air and smoke seemed uninterested, even when he was the one who requested his brothers to do some research in Daphne’s past.
“Some people believe that she serve in France.” Arthur said catching Thomas attention.
“Can we try to locate her file?” John and Arthur shared a look, before the first spoke.
“We can try, but if Solomons is really that invested in her I believe that it won’t be easy.”
“Do it, anyways. It doesn’t matter if it takes some time.”
“Tommy, why are you so interested in this girl?” Arthur asked, toking a sip of his whisky. “I mean, she is beautiful and all but you could have any other woman.” Thomas didn’t answer right away because even he was not sure why he was interested in the woman. After the whole ordeal with Grace, he should want to avoid mysterious woman but Daphne had something that he couldn’t explain.
“There’s something about her...” He got up, putting his jacket before speaking. “Find the file and bring it to me.” After he left, Arthur and John looked at each other, intrigued by his behavior.
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“You are worried.” His voice startled Daphne out of her thoughts and she raised her eyes to look at the man in question. From her spot at the door, she could observe him working – William was still with his scrub, organizing a few things in his office on a secluded area of the hospital, it was more modest than what you would expect of the eldest son of one of the most influential families in London.
He was a beautiful man – tall, lean but strong, a beard well-kept adorning his face, brown curly hair a little unruly and a pair of deep blue eyes that made all the women gasp at the sight of him – but what really got Daphne every time was his kindness. For a man born in one of the richest families in London, William was more down to earth than anybody could expect. Despite their bickering when they first met each other, the pair developed a strong friendship along the years. He was one of the few people that really knew her and her history.
“It’s nothing.” William laughed at that while closing the cabinet of medications right behind his desk.
“Nothing? That’s why you didn’t paid attention to anything I’ve said since you arrived here? I just said to you that Jane is going to marry and you said that it was a shame!” He looked at her with a half-smile and she couldn’t hold her own smile back, shaking her head in the process.
“I’m sorry. It’s just business, it will be over soon.” At least that was what she hoped, even when deep down Daphne had a feeling that things wouldn’t be so simple anymore. “Jane finally decided to end Charles misery, huh?” William sighed at that, stopping to take off his scrubs and replace it with his coat.
“In my opinion they are rushing into things but Charles received a proposal to go to America. I think that forced her to make her decision. Couldn’t think about all the American women swooning all over her fiancé.” Daphne smiled at her friend’s attitude because she knew that his constant bickering about the engagement of his sister and his best friend was just his way of showing older brother protectiveness. It always made her feel bittersweet, even more when she got to see the both Weston siblings together.
“Rush into things? They have been together for what, four years?”
“Yeah, more or less.”
“You’re just worried that you’ll lose you little sister.” He held one hand to his heart faking a gasp.
“Now you wound me, Daphne Scott.” The young doctor walked to her, stopping right in front of the woman. “And you’re trying to redirect. Don’t go thinking that I forgot your stupid little excuse for why you’re so worried.” Daphne sighed. She should know better than to try hiding things from him.
“Come on. Let’s eat something and I will tell you what I can.” He smiled, seeming satisfied with her answer, closing the door behind them and offering his arm to her and the pair left the hospital towards one of the cafes near the area. They talked a little on the way there, little things about Jane and his family, and Daphne had some hope that he would forget about his inquiry at the office. She should have known better.
“Ok, now you tell me what’s bothering you so much. Alfie didn’t listened to you again, huh?” He looked at her from behind his cup of tea while taking a sip.
“When does he?” She answered, rolling her eyes much to William’s delight.
“Well, knowing him I’m pretty sure that he listens to you a lot more than any other person.” Daphne took a deep breath, looking at the people talking and laughing around them. She knew that it was true, Alfie did listened to her most part of the time, but sometimes he frustrated her to no ends with his stubbornness.
“He’s playing something that I’m not sure if he will be able to handle.”
“That bad?” There was a hint of concern in his question. William and Alfie had created some strange type of friendship over the years, most part for her sake, but the both of them always asked about one another.
“That’s the problem: I don’t know. He’s been keeping things from me, he thinks I didn’t notice but I did.” They stayed in silence while the waiter came to the table with their food.
“It will do you no good overthink about it. You will have to wait and see what happens.” She knew that he was right, but her mind never seemed to listen to her.
“I just hope that this doesn’t blow out on our faces.”
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“Next lad.” A man enters the office and stops right in front of Alfie’s desk. “Name?”
“Abbey Heath.”
“Abbey Heath. Profession?”
“Baker.”
“Good lad. Fill it out and fuck off.” The Jew gives the man a folded paper while Ollie throws an apron at him before he leaves. The scene repeats itself without many changes until one of them caught Alfie’s attention.
“Next lad. Name?”
“Billy Kitchen.”
“Billy Kitchen. Occupation?”
“Head baker.” The way he says it makes Alfie take his eyes off of the papers to look at him. The man has an air of defiance, holding his head high.
“Fill it out.” The gangster said with a forced half smile, throwing the paper on the desk for the man to take, Ollie gave him the apron on his way out. They observed the man leave and Ollie took a step towards his boss while Alfie talked to him and moved his glasses. “Ah, Tommy Shelby, mate. Never give power to the big man, what did I tell you? Hmm? Never give power to the big man. Did Daphne came back already?”
“No, she’s not back yet.” Alfie scratched his beard in thinking; maybe it was better if she did not came back in time.
“Hmm. Next lad.”
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“Tommy. Good to see you, mate.” The two man shook hands and Tommy noticed right away the lack of the feminine presence in the distillery.
“Alfie. What do you think?” They observed the men being organized in the bigger room by Billy Kitchen.
“Don’t know yet, man. Let’s give them the instructions, yeah.” They both entered the precinct, Alfie stood closer to the wall, arms crossed in front of him. It was a good place to observe how Tommy worked and it gave him a menacing vibe that could come handy. Tommy started pacing in front of the men while he lit a cigarette and started explaining how things would work.
“All right boys, you've now all been enrolled as bakers in the Aerated Bread Company of Camden Town. If anyone asks, that's what you do. You're bakers. The coppers in Camden Town are on our side but north or south, you show them that piece of paper. Tell them you've come down from north to find work. To break strikes. Tell them you're fascists if you have to. We're finding lodgings for you but for now, you'll sleep here in the bakery. Don't touch any of the bread, it'll most likely explode. Any questions?” One of the man raised his hand. “Yes?”
“I haven't even seen any bread.” He says looking around and laughing with the other men. Tommy looks at Alfie, clearing his throat and continuing to smoke his cigarette. Seconds pass before Alfie approaches the man that made the joke, Buddy. He just stares at him for a couple of seconds before striking the man standing beside with his cane before looking at Buddy again, cane still in hand. Silence filled the room.
“He'll wake up. Well, he won't have any teeth left but he will be a wiser man for it.” Tommy and Ollie were behind him, none of them seemed surprised by the attitude. “And the last thing he will remember is your funny little joke, won't he?” Alfie paused before shouting in the man’s face and start walking. “RIGHT! There are fucking rules here, yeah? Yeah. There are fucking rules, for a fucking reason. Quite simply, they have to be obeyed. All right? Rule number one: the distinction between bread and rum... IT'S NOT DISCUSSED. Rule number two: anything, right, that your superior officer says to you or any of your other fucking superior officers say to you, yeah? NOT DISCUSSED! Rule number three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine... I don't care. For the rest of your fucking miserable, measly lives, yeah? Because I, like you, I am also a complete fucking sodomite.” In that moment, Daphne appeared at the entrance of the room, the men started to look at each other, not having the courage to talk but all intrigued by the woman. Alfie turned to look at her. Damn, the woman always seemed to arrive exactly on the time he needed her to. He recognized the question in her eyes but just ignored it because he knew she would play along. “Jewish women.” He said in a lower tone. “You do not go anywhere near them because Jewish women for you are off the fucking menu. I think that's fair.” He stopped talking and looked at Billy who was right in front of him for a minute. The self-titled ‘head-backer’ held his gaze for a moment before looking away. Alfie then turned to look at the man on the ground before looking at Tommy. “Hm... Oh, that's it then. Forgive me, I interrupted you.” The Jew walked away and stopped right beside Daphne. None of the men, besides Billy Kitchen, dared to look at them.
“Pick him up.” Tommy said motioning the man still unconscious on the ground, walking towards Billy Kitchen, talking to him in a whisper. “Get them out of here and make this fucking work.” They observed the man leave and Tommy took the opportunity to look at Daphne. She was dressed similarly as the day she appeared at the Garrison – a simple blue dress that ended a little bellow her knees, fitted at her waist but loose on the skirt, the neckline was a little open, showing the locket that she always seemed to be with – she caught his eye and smiled at him before Alfie directed them to his office, dismissing Ollie.
“How’s William?” That was the first thing Alfie asked when they entered his office. She raised her brows in question while Thomas closed the door.
“He’s fine. Send you his regards and asked to schedule dinner, said it has been a while.”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s been a while.” He looked at Tommy, who stood beside Daphne, seemingly uninterested in the conversation, looking at the ground, and smiled. “Right, let’s talk business.”
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Ada was sitting in the living room when she heard the noise of the front door closing. Immediately she got up and took the gun from her purse, pointing it at the door right in the moment it opened. She was more than surprised to see Tommy entering with his peaky hat in hand. He laughed when he saw the gun in her hands, before closing the door behind him.
“You've got a key!”
“I kept a spare.” He shrugged.
“Give it to me.” Tommy smiled, throwing the key in the air and catching it while he walked towards his sister. Ada took the key from him and put it away at the same time that Tommy looked around before sitting in the spare seat.
“Could do with some paint, eh?”
“Yeah, when I decide.” She observes her brother picking a book from the pile on the ground, taking a look at it and putting it back down, before sitting back in her own chair, arms crossed in front of her, sighing. “What is it that you want, Tommy?”
“Just came by to say hello.”
“Huh. Tommy Shelby never goes anywhere for no reason.” He sighs, putting his hands in his pockets.
“Right. Daphne. Where did you met her?” Ada laughs, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
“What does it concern you?”
“I need to know more about her.” He simply said. It was true. Maybe not the whole truth, but true, anyways.
“To what? Fuck her and then leave her? She deserves better than that.” She knew she was pressing him but Ada needed to know his intentions towards the woman.
“She works for Solomons.” Tommy noticed that his sisters didn’t seemed surprised. He hoped to use Daphne’s connection to Alfie as an ace to make Ada talk but by her expression, she already knew that.
“I know.”
“Then tell me what you know about her.” The siblings stared at each other for a minute before Tommy pressed again. “I swear it’s for business.”
“I don’t know much, she is pretty reserved. We met in a café downtown. She comes from a wealthy family from the countryside, has medical training as a nurse, is well educated and works with Solomons as his treasurer.”
“Medical training?” The gangster looked at his sister, frowning.
“Yeah. Don’t know much more. She is almost worse than you when it comes to personal information. But she is a good woman.” Tommy wasn’t sure if Ada said that as a way to make him more interested in Daphne or as a warning that she didn’t deserved to be ruined by him. Probably both. “But there’s something more. You didn’t came all the way here just to ask about Daph, you could have learned a lot more about her in other ways. What is it?” It didn’t go unnoticed by him the use of a nickname, that could only mean that Daphne and his sister where more close than he predicted.
“I've got eight hundred pounds left in the Shelby Property fund. And I need somebody down here to look for suitable properties.”
“To rent?”
“Yes.”
“To poor people.” Tommy looks at her. “Ten to a room. No repairs, no water. And if they complain you just send Arthur and the boys around.” He looks around taking a deep breath. “You know, I give advice down at the library. Families, thrown on the street. It's men like you we're fighting.”
“Well, anyway, I was just passing.” He gets up and starts walking to the door. “Thanks for the tea.” Ada calls him before she can contain herself.
“Tommy?” He stops and turns to look at her. “There are always men outside, watching the house.”
“Yeah. Gangsters of the worst kind.” He mocks. “They're there to keep you safe.”
“No, there are others. They looks like coppers.”
“Well, they're on your side as well.”
“I don't have a fucking side.” Ada says annoyed.
“Ada, yes, you do. Anyway, if I thought there was no one watching the house, I couldn't sleep.” She looks at him taken by surprise but he cuts the moment short by leaving. “Cheerio then.” When the door closes behind him, Ada keeps staring at it for a long time. Of course that she knew that Tommy cared for her – for the whole family – but for him to admit it out loud was a rare occurrence nowadays. She couldn’t stop herself of thinking that maybe this had something to do with his sudden interest in Daphne.
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“You’ve been awfully quiet these days.” Daphne was leaning into the window-sill, looking out when he approached her, stopping right at her side.
“You know that I don’t like this time of the year.” Her eyes met his and Alfie recognizes the pain behind them.
“Aye, I know, your birthday. But this isn’t all.” He looked at her again before asking. “You still worried about Tommy?”
“Tommy, huh?” Alfie waved her off and she laughed at his antics. “Yeah, I’m still worried about it.”
“You shouldn’t. Everything’s going accord to the plan.” He looked at the almost empty streets of London trying to hide something from her that Daphne couldn’t put her finger on.
“And what’s the plan, Alfie?” Alfie didn’t answer right away. In fact, he did nothing to acknowledge her question but she waited nevertheless, observing as he changed his weight from one foot to another, the way he twitched his fingers… After some time he turned to look at her.
“Do you trust me?”
“I do. Why are you asking me that?” Her straight answer didn’t surprised him, considering all that they had come through together. Yet, it still felt like some king of punishment for lying to her.
“Because sometimes I wish you didn’t.” At that she turned to him completely.
“Where did that came from?” She knew that he was hiding something but confronting him directly never reached its intended purpose.
“Don’t worry about it, aye. Don’t listen to me, I’m just getting old and cranky.” That made Daphne smile, Alfie took a step closer to her, placing his large hands in both of her arms while looking at her. “I’m just worried about you.” Because of Tommy and his men – he didn’t needed to say it, she knew.
“I know how to fend for myself.”
“I know.” It’s been a while since they hugged each other but it always felt welcoming. Alfie draped his arms around Daphne’s smaller frame, resting his head on top of hers whilst she entwined her arms around his waist, leaning her head on his chest. “There are some days that I wish he was still alive. Keep thinking about what he would thought about it all.” The woman took a deep breath, closing her eyes, a flood of memories passing behind her eyelids.
“Me too, Alfie. Me too.”
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“There'll be another four boat loads tomorrow. What's up, Charlie? Business is good.” Tommy was leaning into a pile of boxes observing the men working with his uncle.
“This isn't business, this is bloody work. Cigarettes and booze is all right but this... this manufactured stuff, it's heavy. I'm not even sure it's stolen.” Charlie looked at his nephew a little unsure and Tommy just shook his head.
“Some of it is legally purchased. One day, all of it will be.”
“It's like having a fucking job.” The older man complained before yeling at one of the boys. “Easy with them fan belts.” Tommy smiled, taking another drag form his cigarette. “Wipe that smile off of your face. I want another pound a boat.”
“Done.” Charles laughed.
“You don't even fight me anymore. It has something to do with that woman from London!” Tommy arched his eyebrows at that. “Yeah, it’s all the men talk about: the beautiful woman from Camden Town that came all the way from London to talk to you.”
“She’s with Solomons.” For some reason his talk with Ada came up in his mind and Tommy felt the need to prevent Daphne’s name being attached to his. He knew that people already talked about her and Alfie being together but most part of the rumors were spread by people that didn’t knew them. If they thought that her relationship with him was anything but profession she could be, indeed, ruined.
“That’s not what I heard.” They just stared at each other for some moments before Charlie changed the subject. “And there's no sport getting through the Black Country with this truce. They just fucking wave at you from the bank.”
“You just wave back, all right?” Tommy patted his uncle’s arm before leaving.
“And all these fucking cars? When did you last ride a horse, Tom?”
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Daphne just smiled to herself when she saw Harriet coming down the stairs with a disheveled Alfie right behind her.
“Daph! It’s so good to see you!” The woman came straight to her, taking her in what could be called a bear hug. “It’s been a while, Alfie has been hogging you.” She gave him a pointed look and he just scratched the back of his head, sighing.
“It’s a little bit of my fault two. The last few weeks haven’t been the best.” Harriet’s deep brown eyes studied the other woman’s reaction and her expression softened.
“I know, I know, darling. Maybe I can stole you for tea?” Daphne had a feeling that Alfie was going to say something, but Harriet had already hooked her arms with Daphne’s directing them towards the door. “See you, Alfred!” The courtesan shouted before the two of them left the house and all that Daphne could recognize was Alfie’s voice saying ‘Damn, woman’.”
When the two of them were sat comfortably in Harriet’s office, the one in her apartment just down the street, each one of them with a cup of tea in their hands, Harriet took a moment to analyze her friend better. For anyone that didn’t knew her, Daphne could have looked normal, but her friend knew her well enough to notice the signs of tiredness and worry in the other woman’s behavior.
“You’re not sleeping well.” Daphne met the statement with a sigh.
“I never do at this time of the year.” Harriet knew that to. They had shared rooms for a long time, sometimes even sleeping on the same bed, it was difficult not to notice the tossing and turning of Daphne’s nightmares.
“You’re planning something for this year?”
“No. But I’m sure that Alfie is.” The courtesan laughed, taking another sip of her tea.
“He wants to show his little sister off.” Daphne rolled her eyes.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not his only intention.” Harriet knew that too – Alfie never took his promise of protecting Daphne lightly and her birthday was the perfect occasion for him to show to everyone that anybody that messed with her would be messing with him.
“I heard that you met with the leader of the Blinders. How is he?” Daphne raised her brows at that.
“Alfie told you that?”
“I coarsed it out of him.” Harriet smiled and the other woman only laughed.
“I’m pretty sure that you did.”
“Don’t redirect, honey. Tell, me.”
“Why are you so interested in this?” More often than not, Daphne ignored the fact that she knew Harriet gave Alfie information about what the two talked. Most part of the time both her friend’s intentions were good and deep down she knew that the woman would never betray her, so she just brushed it off and used it at her advantage too.
“Can a friend be curious about her friend’s life?”
“Alfie told you something. Come on, what is it?” Harriet rolled her eyes, annoyed.
“I swear to God, sometimes I forget you two aren’t related. It’s unbelievable.” She looked at Daphne and saw a little smile forming on her lips. “He said something about being worried for you. Said that he doesn’t like the way the Shelby looks at you.”
“It’s not like that.” The dismissive tone she used caught Harriet’s attention.
“Daph, we both know that men often recognize when other men looks at a woman a certain way.” Daphne took a sip of her tea to prevent answering the unspoken question. “Is this guy interested in you in some way?”
“He’s just curious because he doesn’t know what exactly my relationship with Alfie is, exactly. Thomas has a fame of wanting to have control over everything, this is something out of his reach. That’s it.”
“Ok I think I asked you the wrong question.” There was a pregnant pause before Harriet spoke again. “Are you interested in him?” The question took Daphne by surprise. She haven’t thought about it that way but one thing that you could trust Harriet to do was read her like an open book. Thomas Shelby intrigued her, that was for sure. Her answer was the most sincere thing that Daphne could master.
“I don’t know.”
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hi! hope you're having a good day! i'm kind of new in the fandom and was wondering if you could recommend me some of your favorite dinah and helena fics? also who are the burps? ive seen them mentioned in tags and the like two fics ive read and it appears you are one so i thought id ask :D
Hi, welcome to the fandom I guess. The Burps are... a tumblr group chat turned discord turned mini family of some super cool ladies and theydies who all want Dinah and Helena to fuck. Not to sound horny on main, but I love them and am soft for all of them.
As for fic recs, here you go (I’m going to stick an asterisk by the fics written by my fellow Burps):
(love is) a hand-me-down brew by ace_verity When Dinah Lance takes Renee's offer of a job at her new cafe, she's only looking for a fresh start.She certainly doesn't expect to fall in love.---Helena Bertinelli is on a quest for vengeance, and she's determined not to let anything distract her from that quest.Except, it seems, the barista at the best cafe in the East End.
This is the coffee shop AU I did not know I need and I get so excited every time I see it has updated.
classic in the right way by @kate-siegel*or, the one in which Dinah is Gotham's favourite florist and Helena is in charge of getting some plants for her father's company.
I just don’t have the words for this fic, and it’s only 3 chapters in so far. I usually don’t care much for the florist x whoever AUs, but this one is making me rethink that. This writer is so good that I’m reading works of hers for fandoms I do not give a shit about just because she is that talented.
knew your love (before i kissed you) by @zxyjxy* Surviving the massacre of your entire family at the age of eight is a pretty impressive feat. Training for fifteen years in Sicily until you can kill a man with one hand and a hairpin is also a pretty impressive feat. Returning to the city where your family was cut down and killing every single person involved in their deaths is maybe the most impressive feat. Somehow, it's never been enough for Helena.
Listen. I firmly believe that every fandom has The Fic. Meaning the one that everyone in the fandom knows about and has read, probably several times. This is The Fic for Helena and Dinah. It’s well-crafted, well-written, and the first one I thought of when I read this ask.
for the first time i had something to lose by @sinand-misery* "You're trembling." // Most nights go according to plan. Tonight, however, is not one of those nights.
I’m pretty sure I’m obligated to include this one since I’m the one who submitted the dialogue prompt it is based off, but even if I weren’t, I would still include it. The writers in this fandom love hurting Helena and then making Dinah take care of her, and this writer does a great job of it.
try a little tenderness (all you gotta do is try) (also) by @kate-siegel*“I feel disgusting,” Dinah says, glancing down at herself and there’s a lilt to her voice that already puts Helena on edge, even before Dinah turns those dark eyes onto her. “I need to shower.” “Okay,” is all she says, because she’s not sure what else to say in response to that, casting an awkward glance around the living room to figure out what she’s supposed to do in this situation. Should she stay and wait, or was that Canary’s subtle way of asking her to leave? “You should join me.”
This fic makes me long to feel things I am not sure I feel capable of. It’s just, like, 3600 words of vulnerability and love. Very grateful for writers who can bring things like this to the table.
Get Used To It by @helenas-crossbow* “I’m...sorry.” Helena says, in her signature somewhat awkward cadence, still looking at the floor. “I just...I guess I’m not used to having to worry about people worrying about me, you know?”
The tenderness? The way Helena’s character comes through so cleanly and perfectly? My heart, dude. I reread this one regularly.
I’ll only hurt you (if you let me) by ThanksForListening"Tears had their purpose, initially, but overall they were counterproductive, and she had a job to do. Crying in the face of pain would do nothing, so she vowed to never do it again, no matter how much she wanted to. And she didn’t.But damn if this didn’t hurt like a bitch."
Another really good fic about Helena getting shot and being taken care of. There are so many good things about this one that it would take me way too long to list them.
sleepover by @cleanquean* It's not like Dinah doesn't realise she's got it bad for Helena; she knows that all too well, thank you very much. The problem is, what the hell do you do about it when it's right there in your face, at work, at home, in your kitchen and in your bed? And how do you keep Harley Quinn from unintentionally ruining all of it?
Some things? Are too good for us to deserve. Sleepover is it. We do not deserve it. I read it when I am feeling soft. No matter what direction this writer takes this fic it will be good and I will scream the whole time I read it, and then I will read it again.
after the afterparty by novoaa1The Canary had let loose a delighted snort at that, as if she found the whole thing somehow laughable.(Which it wasn’t, to be clear—laughable, that is.)“Are y'all seeing this shit?” she’d turned to ask the rest of them, earning a giddy squeal from Harley and a bemused scoff from Montoya even whilst Helena remained stock still in place, dutifully blinding herself with one hand. “Absolutely adorable.”“Shut up,” Helena had hissed back more out of instinct than anything else, though her tone was markedly devoid of any real anger.(And if Helena had felt her cheeks flush ever so slightly beneath her palm at the Canary’s glib assertion, she certainly didn’t let on.)Or: Sionis falls. The rest of them remain.
This was the first Birds of Prey fic I read, and I maintain that it is one of the best. This dialogue is just spot on, and the story itself is absolutely adorable.
With You I’m Briefly Gorgeous by well, me*It’s a soulmate AU and I don’t feel like attaching the description. I honestly do not usually rec my own fics, but given that I am responsible for the only soulmate AU so far I think I am legally required to link it. So there ya go.
#birds of prey#nobody draw attention to my blatant favoritism for the burps#we make up like 1/3 of the fics on ao3 so it is expected
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961
What was the most unsettling film you’ve seen?
Unsettling films are my jam, man. To name a few, there’s Eraserhead, Room, Midsommar, Eyes Wide Shut, Misery, and most recently, I’m Thinking of Ending Things. Eraserhead takes the cake though. That movie always makes me queasy...
What unethical experiment would have the biggest positive impact on society as a whole?
I’m a firm believer in nothing good ever comes out of unethical practices. I’ll never forget reading about an experiment where a group of newborn babies were given basic needs like food and being bathed, but weren’t shown any affection whatsoever and it was meant to see if humans can survive with just the most basic physiological needs. By the end of the experiment period half of the babies were dead. The results were honestly a lot bleaker than how I’ve put it, but I don’t wanna be a downer lol. Suffice it to say that experiment haunted me for days after reading it.
When was the last time you were snooping, and found something you wish you hadn’t?
It was around a week or so ago, I’m pretty sure.
Which celebrity or band has the worst fan base?
My sister is into K-pop and I hear insights from her all the time, but her one constant is that BTS breeds the most annoying, toxic fans. I’d have to agree. Ariana Grande’s fandom was also annoying at one point, but I haven’t heard much from them making a mess these days.
What are you interested in that most people aren’t?
Autobiographies.
If you were given a PhD degree, but had no more knowledge of the subject of the degree besides what you have now, what degree would you want to be given to you?
Why would I deserve a PhD on something I’m clearly not qualified for...I’m not sure I’m following this question right, but I don’t feel like thinking too hard about it.
What smartphone feature would you actually be excited for a company to implement?
I’m happy with the features that are widespread now, but I wish companies adhere more to countries other than the common ones like US, UK, Australia, etc. I always see ads about phones being able to tell you how much movie tickets cost or track boarding passes, but those are all irrelevant here. It makes a lot of Apple’s basic apps useless on this side of the world haha.
What’s something people don’t worry about but really should?
Long-term effects of poor habits like not getting enough sleep or drinking too many cups of coffee. I know because I’m guilty of this.
What movie quotes do you use on a regular basis?
“I won’t think about that now, I’ll think about it tomorrow,” but I usually say it to myself, especially when I feel stressed.
Do you think that children born today will have better or worse lives than their parents?
Better, but idk if that’s just me being biased because my generation will be the next parents lol. I just think that a lot of Gen X parents still have a lot of dated prejudices and mindsets that my generation was able to learn better from. For example my mom doesn’t like using people’s preferred names, especially if they’ve transitioned -_____- and I know I’d never want to set such an example for my kids.
What’s the funniest joke you know by heart?
I know I’ve come across hilarious ones but I always fail to come up with one when asked on the spot.
When was the last time you felt you had a new lease on life?
LOL RIGHT NOW
What’s the funniest actual name you’ve heard of someone having?
It’s more stupid than funny and I know I’ve already mentioned this before, but Covid Bryant as a first and second name still takes the cake for me. My sister went to school with a girl whose name is just her surname backwards, and for a time I was really weirded out by it. But in the times I’ve seen her she really owns her name and never looks bothered by it, so I quickly stopped caring.
Which charity or charitable cause is most deserving of money?
For me it would have to be organizations for animal welfare.
What TV show character would it be the most fun to change places with for a week?
Post-El Camino Jesse Pinkman. I wouldn’t want to live through his chaotic shit from Breaking Bad, but his fate after El Camino is something I’m super envious of.
What was cool when you were young but isn’t cool now?
Flip phones, Blackberry phones, Roshes, Frappuccinos.
If you were moving to another country, but could only pack one carry-on sized bag, what would you pack?
Phone, laptop, their chargers, important IDs, some of my favorite tops and jeans, underwear, essential toiletries, wallet, a family photo, a journal and pen, earphones, certain knickknacks to remember Gab and my dogs by. Minus the clothes, all of these are pretty tiny so I think these would all fit in the bag just fine.
What’s the most ironic thing you’ve seen happen?
I don’t know. I’m not really a fan of rating the most/worst this and that stuff in my life, either. I feel like I unnecessarily rack my brain too hard for them when I take surveys to have a chill time.
If magic was real, what spell would you try to learn first?
Probably something that’d keep my dogs from dying.
If you were a ghost and could possess people, what would you make them do?
No thanks. I’d be the chillest ghost tbh, I’d like to just sneak up on people’s business and hang out but never interfere in them.
What goal do you think humanity is not focused enough on achieving?
Climate change, global warming, alleviation of poverty. Corporations and the few people who actually have the power and money to change things only ever come up with short-term shit like donations and never look at the big picture.
What problem are you currently grappling with?
So many personal ones. But just like the recurring theme of my surveys so far, “I don’t want to get into it.”
What character in a movie could have been great, but the actor they cast didn’t fit the role?
As much as I love Kristen Stewart, I heard she was cast as Princess Diana for an upcoming film and I’m not really feeling that decision. They could’ve gone with a British actress for starters?????? The movie is still in production but it is pretty annoying to think about lmao.
What game have you spent the most hours playing?
Probably GTA: San Andreas as a kid.
What’s the most comfortable bed or chair you’ve ever been in?
Luxury hotel beds are always so fluffy and comfortable.
What’s the craziest conversation you’ve overheard?
Omg one time at a coffee shop Gabie and I sat beside this older couple that obviously was going through some heavy SHIT. There was a lot of animosity and tension between them and I caught the lady silently break into tears a few times. I never overheard anything but then again they sat in silence for hours until the lady finally walked out on him. Never knew what it was about but I’ve always guessed that the man did something crappy, like cheat, and was discovered. It was a really sad sight and a crazy situation to witness and I think I felt even more sorry because they were obviously in their 50s or 60s. I hope the woman is in a better place now as she looked rough as fuck that evening.
What’s the hardest you’ve ever worked?
I wore a lot of hats when I was in my college org, and that was on top of balancing my acads as well.
What movie, picture, or video always makes you laugh no matter how often you watch it?
That scene from Friends where Ross plays the keyboard for Chandler, Phoebe, Monica, and Rachel.
What artist or band do you always recommend when someone asks for a music recommendation?
It depends on what music they’re into and if I have actually have a recommendation in mind for them. I obviously can’t suggest Paramore to someone who mainly listens to metal.
If you could have an all-expenses paid trip to see any famous world monument, which monument would you choose?
I’m down for any monuments that are super ancient like Stonehenge or the Pyramids of Giza.
If animals could talk, which animal would be the most annoying?
I’d go with frogs, but only because they get annoyingly loud in the evening.
What’s the most addicted to a game you’ve ever been?
Playing The Sims, Mario Kart, Rock Band, or games in the Burnout franchise.
What’s the coldest you’ve ever been?
Japan was so fucking cold when I was there. Didn’t do my research and ended up being dressed poorly, and I was so cold I could barely talk to my parents or fully enjoy my time. Sagada was also nearly unbearable in the early morning.
Which protagonist from a book or movie would make the worst roommate?
Not from a book or movie, but BoJack Horseman. Diane can also be in the running as I always found her too whiny. I get that she had her personal shit to deal with, but I don’t think living with her would be good for my own sanity and mental health.
Do you eat food that’s past its expiration date if it still smells and looks fine?
It annoys my chef dad to death that I don’t lol. No matter how great it looks, I’d bounce. I once ate expired Kit Kats that tasted like cardboard and that scared me off of expired food forever.
What’s the most ridiculous thing you have bought?
I once bought a stupid novelty soap that to this day I’ve never even opened. It’s in one of my drawers, and I plan to just throw it out at some point.
What’s the funniest comedy skit you’ve seen?
Not a fan of these but one that got to me is Dear Sister from SNL.
What’s the most depressing meal you’ve eaten?
A few years ago there was a local breakfast place that offered red velvet pancakes for a limited time and I was all over that crap, so I went and ordered. The actual pancakes ended up not being any bigger than my palm, and I remember not being able to hide my disappointment once the server placed the dish on my table haha. I felt so scammed. I had to order something else to feel full, because those pancakes were stupidly small.
What tips or tricks have you picked up from your job/jobs?
One of my superiors, when she was presenting a pitch to our director yesterday, kept asking questions and picking at the director’s brain so that she can get suggestions and answers straight from the director herself and so that she didn’t have to do any brainstorming anymore. I thought that was a pretty nifty and clever hack.
What outdoor activity haven’t you tried, but would like to?
Hiking a mountain!
What songs hit you with a wave of nostalgia every time you hear them?
Umbrella by Rihanna feat. Jay-Z.
What’s the worst backhanded compliment you could give someone?
Idk, anything can be the worst depending on the context. I’m not a fan of giving those, though.
What’s the most interesting documentary you’ve ever watched?
Unsolved Mysteries’ Dupont de Ligonnès episode was a lot of fun to watch.
What was the last song you sang along to?
I think it was Thinking of You by Katy Perry? but I’m not entirely sure. I haven’t sung along to anything in a while.
What app can you not believe someone hasn’t made yet?
I don’t really download and use a lot of apps other than the basic ones, so I don’t care too much.
When was the last time you face palmed?
Last night.
If you were given five million dollars to open a small museum, what kind of museum would you create?
I’d give it away to the Martial Law museum currently being made near my university so that it can do more to show the atrocities of the Marcoses. And so that I can piss off my pro-Marcos relatives.
Which of your vices or bad habits would be the hardest to give up?
Uh hating myself, if that counts.
What really needs to be modernized?
Public transportation systems in this country.
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FINISHED!
Tagging: @tokky231
Fandom: Marvel, Avengers
Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Bruce Barton, Steve Rogers
Chapters: 34/34 Words: 188.535
Summary:
Tony meets his soulmate under the worst possible circumstances. It is not just a kidnapping gone wrong. It turns out Steve and his gang picked him on purpose and they want some personal revenge. If only he had managed to say the words written on his soulmate’s arm before they threw him back out into the streets.
—
Tony is avoiding Steve. Worse, he is avoiding to deal with or even think of Steve. Which is made all the harder by the fact that Steve is currently living only a few floors down. JARVIS told him when Steve moved his things in. It was tempting to pull up a video feed and watch Steve make himself at home. Tony knew, though, that, if he did that, there would be no going back.
Meanwhile, it is easy to bury himself in work. Pepper has officially taken over as CEO, but that does not mean the internal battles are over or that the company is standing on solid legs again. He does not have to look long to find things to do, to keep himself from thinking about his own, looming future.
Strangely enough, things are already more harmonic than Tony can remember his life ever being. Rhodey has not yet gone back to work – officially he is negotiating with Stark Industries about what to do about the outstanding contracts with the US Military. Every evening, without fail, the three of them meet up for dinner. Sometimes, Thor and Bruce join them. It is nice, almost like a family. For the first time ever, it is also Tony who has to push Pepper into taking a break.
This night, Tony is distracted. He thought it would be easier, with Steve close and taking a break from the Avengers. The bond is quiet but still present, a constant itch that does not leave him alone without being too overwhelming.
Tony is in the middle of setting the table when Pepper comes in. Immediately, he leaves the cutlery in a heap and turns to her. No matter what situation he found himself in, Pepper has always had a solution for him.
“Pepper,” he greets, too bright to be natural, and deflates right afterwards when she stops, knowing something is wrong. “I don’t know what to do.”
One of these days, Pepper will throw her arms up and leave him to his misery, tired of cleaning up his messes. To Tony’s luck, today is not that day.
“What did you do now?” she asks as she kicks off her shoes and comes into the room.
“I don’t know what to do with Steve.”
When Tony told Pepper he let Steve move into the tower, she reacted surprisingly unfazed. Perhaps she, same as him, thought it wise to keep him close.
“That Steve?” She raises an eyebrow at him as she picks up the cutlery and finishes setting the table for him.
“Do you know any other Steve I’d get agitated over?” Tony counters, wondering why he thought she would make this easy on him.
The matter is rather simple to her. Either he throws Steve out and is done with it, or they talk it through and stay together. Tony has never been one for simple solutions, however.
“I heard there’s a Steve down in the labs who will either make you go prematurely grey or blow up the building,” Rhodey chimes in, appearing with a large bowl of salad.
The matter is rather simple to Rhodey too, who has been urging Tony to make a decision for days now instead of making life harder for all of them, Steve included. He has even offered to deal with Steve himself, with undisguised glee at that.
“You’re not helping,” Tony grumbles, seeing his hopes of dealing with this privately crumble. If Pepper were not so adamant on keeping all private business out of her office until the current crisis with the company is averted, he would have ambushed her there.
“I am so helping,” Rhodey says with a grin as he puts down the bowl on the table. Instead of going back to the kitchen, he stays, apparently waiting for Tony to continue.
“Then tell me what to do,” Tony says, annoyed by his own indecision.
Everything seemed so easy in the beginning. Now, more than anything, he remembers how safe he felt in Steve’s arms. He is just so afraid that is fake, created by the bond instead of his brain.
“Pepper will surely agree with me here, but you should talk to Steve,” Rhodey says, barely waiting for Pepper to nod. “That’s always a good beginning.”
Tony’s shoulders slump as he leans against the table, too tired to keep himself upright. “We already talked.”
They did, in a way. Tony told Steve to give up the Avengers so they could have a chance together. Actually taking that chance, however, turns out to be harder than he imagined. With everything that went wrong lately, he just does not want to make another mistake. Does not want to trust the wrong person again.
“The way I see it, you stowed him away down there, then told JARVIS to keep an eye on him and to make sure I don’t pay him a visit,” Rhodey says, crossing his arms in front of him. “And now you avoid acknowledging his existence because you’re afraid it won’t turn out to be what you want.”
“I don’t know what I want,” Tony argues instead of admitting that Rhodey is right. They all know it anyway.
If he waits long enough and Steve gets tired of sitting down there and leaves, his dilemma will solve itself. Then it cannot be his fault things did not work out. At least, that is what he is clinging to.
“You need to go down there and talk to him,” Pepper says in that same tone she uses when she is done listening to Tony’s excuses about not going to board meetings.
Perhaps that is exactly the reason he needed to talk to her. To be forced into making his move because he is too afraid of doing it on his own.
Staring down at the table, Tony rearranges the fork in front of him until it is perfectly aligned with the plate. Without looking up, he asks, “What if it doesn’t work out?”
The chances for that are much higher than Steve and him actually finding some semblance of peace together. Bad odds never kept Tony from doing something. This is not something he can build, though. It is not a machine he can fix.
“Then you go on with your life,” Pepper says, something forlorn in her tone that has Tony looking up at last.
He knows that Pepper has not given up hope of finding her soulmate. She is holding her left arm, probably without knowing that she is doing it. It does not seem fair that Tony would be burdened with his soulmate when other people would give so much to meet their own.
“What –” Tony begins, then interrupts himself. His friends look at him, waiting patiently. “What if it does work out?”
Only here can Tony admit that this is what he is more afraid of. If he gives in to this, the struggle of being right for Steve will begin, and Tony does not have a good track record with that.
If possible, Pepper’s face softens further. “Then life will become all the more interesting.”
Tony pulls his shoulders up. “You say that as if it is easy,” he says and fails to sound amused.
“It isn’t,” Pepper replies, a sigh escaping her. “I never promised you that anything would be easy.”
And nothing ever has been. Nothing but the way his mind understands numbers, and even that is infused with bad memories.
“But you make it look like it is,” he says nonetheless because he can count the times he has seen Pepper lose her composure on both hands. Most of them involved him.
Pepper lets go of her arm, straightens as she looks at him. “Tony, it really isn’t. Working here, working with you. It is not easy. But it is worth it. You’re a good man and I love you and that’s why I do this every single day.” She takes a deep breath, pausing long enough for Tony’s brain to catch up. “Go down there and talk to Steve. You owe it to yourself and him to do something about this. You’re not going to get any rest before you do.”
Tony’s eyes burn. Rhodey regularly tells him he loves him, and he knows that Pepper does too. Otherwise, she would not be here, would not have stayed for these endless years. That does not make hearing it any less wonderful or needed.
Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he inclines his head. “You’re right but – there’s no going back once I do.”
He is not feeling better by pushing the matter away, though. Pepper is right, he will not be able to go on before he clears this up.
“No, there isn’t,” Pepper agrees, a half-smile gracing her lips. “But every day brings new decisions with it, and this one is long overdue.”
“All right,” Tony says before he can change his mind again. If he puts it out here for them to hear, he cannot withdraw again so easily. “I promise I will.”
The tension Tony did not even notice hanging around them disperses, making it easier to breathe.
Rhodey pushes himself away from the table and, before he turns back to the kitchen, he says, “We’re here for you.”
That is the one reason why he is standing here, intact and even hopeful. “I know,” he says. Now he just hopes that Steve and he will be able to have something similar one day.
---
Steve does not know what to do with himself. The place is too large, the city too small outside the windows. A few days ago art supplies were delivered to him, but he has not yet unpacked them, knowing he will not be able to sit down and appreciate them. He is restless, pacing relentlessly in the space given to him by Tony.
Tony.
Just a few floors up is Tony’s workshop, his home. So close that Steve feels like he would only need to stretch out his hands to touch Tony. It is not that easy, of course, but the burning need still sits inside him.
Steve has made his decision and Tony believed him. Or so he thinks. He sent a text message that he intends to stay when Tony did not pick up his phone, and they agreed to meet up later. It is just taking them some time to get to that later. They have both made steps towards each other, but Steve still feels entirely out of depth. This is not his world. Up in the sky, the city sprawling beneath, surrounded by luxury.
For the past years, he has made it his business not to be seen. This now feels like he is being thrust right into the spotlight. His path has always been riddled with obstacles. His days have always been gritty. Letting go of the person he has become seems impossible.
Yet here he is. Without his team. Without a mission. Without anyone to protect or fight.
He is so close to something he thought he wanted, but now that it is within reach he is too afraid to close his fingers around it. What is he even doing here? He is a soldier. He fights. Never before has he stayed and harvested the fruits of his labour. It is hard to imagine he could have a place here.
He has nothing to offer to Tony. Nothing that Tony could not get for himself much easier and safer and better. All he has ever given Tony is grief. Their entire history is drenched in red.
Now, Steve is here, in Tony’s tower, and thinks about running because he cannot picture a way this is going to end happily. It seemed so easy before. Against all odds, they would turn their story into something happy. They would beat Stane, they would keep Tony safe and his company whole. They would work things out between them.
This is a hollow victory, although everything happened the way Steve hoped it would. Well, he did not want Tony to be taken captive again and to listen to his godfather monologue about the extent of his betrayal. But they won the fight, ended the war.
Now, Steve is less sure than ever what to do.
Tony has asked him to leave, before, and Steve remained stubborn, holding onto something that did not exist. Running appears to be a feasible option now. Much easier, in any case, than to stay and bear the consequences of their actions.
What if there is nothing between them? What if they do not fit? What if Tony will forever remain afraid of Steve? What if the words on their arms and the bond holding them together do not mean anything after all?
What if it does? What if this does work out?
Steve’s heartbeat echoes loudly in his ears as he admits to himself that he might be far more terrified of this thing working out between them than of Tony sending him away. He does not know how not to fight. He does not know how to live for himself. There has always been Bucky and the team and the faceless crowd of people they were standing up for. It was always easy to keep going for that.
Perhaps he does not deserve peace for himself. No happily ever after.
“Captain Rogers,” a voice speaks up in the empty air around him. “Sir is asking whether you want to have lunch with him.”
Steve stills, then looks around with sudden panic driving sweat onto his forehead. He has paced this place for hours, has been in every nook, keeps all the doors open and an eye on the entrance. Nobody but himself is here.
“My apologies,” the voice says. He sounds amused more than contrite. “I am organizing Mr. Stark’s appointments and was instructed to reach out to you.”
Through speakers Steve did not know exist, which leaves the question of what else he is unaware of about his new lodgings. Perhaps he should not grudge Tony that he wants to keep an eye on Steve but he feels immediately less comfortable here.
“I am part of the tower’s security, but I have not been actively monitoring you,” the voice says. “My name is JARVIS.”
It does not reassure Steve that the voice can apparently read his thoughts, too, but he nods nonetheless. He remembers the name. JARVIS was the one who found out Tony’s whereabouts after Stane kidnapped him. Even without knowing nothing else about him, Steve can be sure that he has Tony’s best interests at heart.
“Can you hear me, too?” Steve asks, squashing down all worries about being bugged.
“If called upon,” JARVIS answers, likely in an attempt to put Steve at ease.
It does not work, but Steve can admit that, from an outsider’s perspective, it is warranted to watch him to ensure Tony’s safety.
“Do you want me to tell sir that you are amenable to lunch?” JARVIS asks, allowing no hint at what he thinks about the matter, whether he would like to keep Steve away from Tony.
It is a simple question, and the answer burning inside him is yes. Maybe he is wrong about that, though. Maybe it would be easier to make a clean cut now before they both get even more entangled in this.
Huffing, Steve shakes his head. A clean cut has never been possible between them. Now less so than ever.
“Does he want me to come up?” Steve asks, almost laughing at the effort it takes to keep his voice steady.
“The table is already set,” JARVIS replies.
Either Tony was very optimistic that Steve would say yes, or he did not imagine that Steve saying no was a possibility.
“Thank you, JARVIS,” Steve says and looks down at himself, wondering whether he should change clothes.
JARVIS does not answer, which Steve interprets as deserved reluctance as to whether Steve is trustworthy. They will see soon enough.
Deciding that his shirt and jeans will have to do, Steve turns towards the door. There is no use in wasting any more time. He might still be afraid of what this meeting will bring, but at the same time, he is eager to get it over with. The waiting truly is the worst part.
---
The penthouse looks exactly like Steve remembers and yet completely different at the same time. It is brightly lit, for once, and is calling for Steve to come in. He hesitates, glances over his shoulders when the elevator doors close behind him, almost as if JARVIS is cutting his exit off.
He wants to go in, he is just not sure whether he is ready for answers yet. As much as this constant indecision is eating at him, everything is still possible right now.
Only a moment later, Tony appears in the foyer, coming out of the door that leads to the kitchen. The very sight pushes the air out of Steve’s lungs.
Tony looks brilliant. No bruises, no dark rings under his eyes, no nervousness in his movements. He is wearing a well-loved band shirt, as casual as Steve has ever seen him.
“Tony,” Steve breathes. That is all he can manage, but it sums up his feelings quite well.
“Steve, how are you?” Tony replies. The words come out in a hasty stumble as he comes closer. “Do you like the place? We can get you something else if you want.”
So much for Tony not being nervous. It calms Steve that he is not the only one still out of his depth.
“It’s fine,” he says, trying for a reassuring tone. “It’s – more than enough.”
Too much really, considering where he comes from, where they stand with each other. That is an argument for another time, though. It is entirely possible that he will be without a place to sleep when this night is over.
“I have the space,” Tony says with a dismissive wave. He is close to Steve now but stops just an arm’s length away. “Thor and Bruce are on the floor beneath yours. Which you probably know.”
It stings a bit to hear Bruce’s name spoken so fondly in Tony’s voice, although Steve does not begrudge them their friendship. It just seems that he had to let go of his for it.
“I didn’t,” Steve says, taking care not to hint at his feelings. “We haven’t yet had a chance to talk.”
It is more that Bruce has been avoiding Steve, although it is not quite clear why. Steve would not hold it against Bruce that he sought something better for himself than to stay in hiding with the Avengers forever. Being allowed to work with Stark Industries must be like a dream come true after years of badly outfitted labs in hideouts.
A short silence falls in which Tony stares at his feet before he drags his eyes back up to Steve. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier,” he says. “Pepper dragged me from meeting to meeting.”
That is an excuse as Steve very well knows. It does not matter, though, because they are here now. It would have been stranger if Tony did not have any doubts.
“That’s all right,” Steve says and shrugs for good measure. He just hopes there are no cameras in his rooms after all, so that Tony will never find out about his endless pacing. “You need to take care of your company.”
For some reason, that was the wrong thing to say. Tony’s expression darkens. “It’s not all right,” he replies, his tone sharp, although it does not seem to be directed against Steve. “I didn’t ask you to stay here only to ignore you afterwards. That’s not – We’re not going to work out anything this way.”
“You should take your time,” Steve says, although he is a bit mollified. They will not give up without a fight, at least. “I don’t have anywhere to go at the moment.”
Tony leans slightly away from him, looking wide-eyed and vaguely regretful. “That’s not what I wanted,” he says, then looks down, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Steve, I – when I asked you to choose, I didn’t want you to throw your whole life away.”
Too late for that, Steve thinks. Everybody else seemed very glad for the opportunity.
“You didn’t. I’m not here against my will,” he intones firmly. Tony is not at fault for the Avengers falling out, no matter whether he had his hand in triggering it. They were already damaged. “You were right in that we were all so focused on our way that we didn’t even see all the things passing us by anymore. Perhaps we were out for revenge and not just to help people. And it left us lesser than we were.”
Steve always wanted to help people. Looking back, however, it seems like he was more interested in punishing those who did wrong instead of putting those who were hurt back together. It is easy to throw himself into fights. He was just never very good at handling the aftermath.
“That’s nonsense,” Tony argues with unexpected firmness. “You’re not lesser now. None of you are. I imagine it’s not easy to have your life upturned. I actually know it, considering,” he trails off uncomfortably, losing some of his fire. When he resumes talking, it is with the distant note of an apology in his tone. “I didn’t mean to dictate your life. I had JARVIS go through your files after we met. You did good. Not always, but often enough.”
This is wrong. Tony should not defend what they did, especially not since they hurt him so badly without ever stopping to think about what they were doing.
“Often enough doesn’t cut it,” Steve says, feeling a wave of fatigue washing over him. He thought discussing the future would be bad enough, but the past will always haunt him. “You were right,” he then admits. “There has to be more to life. We were starting to question ourselves, and I guess it’s good we’ve gotten a push to go and see what else there is for us.”
Tony looks at him, seemingly on the verge of keeping up the argument, but then he nods and lets his drop.
They are still standing in the foyer of the penthouse. That seems to be a nice metaphor for them being unable to move on from the same old problems. Tony is glancing towards the kitchen door, perhaps pondering the same thing, but then he stays right where he is.
“I want to figure this out,” he then says, diving right into the issue at hand. Steve would be glad if he were not so nervous about it. “The bond is not as loud anymore, but it is still pushing us. I felt like the only victim in this at the beginning, but you didn’t choose this either.” Tony looks uncomfortable admitting that, almost guilty. “What you said when we met in that café – we don’t know each other, but I think I’d like to. I don’t want to reject you because of some mistakes we made. Not without knowing you first.”
This is all Steve wanted. To be allowed to make up for what he did. To be given a chance. Now that they are here, though, he thinks he owes Tony more than that.
“But are you feeling safe?” Steve asks, worried that Tony is doing this without thinking of himself first.
Tony narrows his eyes at Steve, not exactly displeased but wary. “I expect Obie to jump at me from every shadow. I dream of Thor dying in that parking lot. I see Barton bury arrows in people’s throats. It’s –” He shrugs, clearly not as unaffected as he pretends to be. “I’ve never felt safe. There was always someone to disappoint or someone angry at me. I’ve always handled that the same way: by building something.”
Steve’s heart goes out to Tony, more so than when they found out about Stane’s betrayal. All these years, Tony has been lonely, fighting his battles alone. And Steve, who should have been by his side, who should be the one person Tony can always trust, only added to that burden when he finally stepped into Tony’s life.
“What if there’s nothing to build? What if this is all we’ll ever be?” Steve asks, his voice nothing more than a whisper. The very thought is devastating, even though it is more than likely. “We – I might have messed this up already.”
He has. He hurts his soulmate, suspected and vilified him. Failed to keep him safe. Even if they were able to build something of that, their base will forever be flawed.
Tony nods as if he agrees, sending a stab of pain right into Steve’s heart. “Do you remember that night we met?” he then asks instead of cementing these accusations.
The warehouse, Bucky’s grim silence, Clint’s explosive anger. The burning realization of having made the worst mistake of his life when he heard his words whispered in that back alley, mixed in with the scent of blood and genuine desperation. The fire spreading through his arm.
“Of course, I do,” Steve says, staring at the ground between them, expecting a shadow of Tony’s broken body to appear between them. “Tony, I’m –”
“You were so cocky,” Tony interrupts him, obviously not done making his point. “I – I hated that. When I was back home, I thought about how you stood by utterly emotionless while I was beaten up, and the next moment you were touching me like I was precious to you. Like you already knew I was yours. I hated that you thought I was guaranteed to you.” He says all this in an almost dispassionate tone as if it happened to someone else. Then his expression changes into something warmer, almost wondrous. “But at that moment, you stood in front of your friends and told them I was your soulmate. You sounded so sure about it.”
Steve has always tended to lay claim to all kinds of things. Mostly, he adopted every fight, every issue as his. But people, too. All these lost souls he came across and felt responsible for, all these life stories he wanted to change for the better. He used to think that he could save everybody he came across.
“This is unforgivable,” Steve says as his shoulders drop. He has no right to Tony. “I should have never have touched you. I don’t know what came over me.” He does know, though. The bond settling in and making him forget all that was wrong with their situation as if that false warmth could erase all their differences, all of Tony’s hurt. “For a moment everything made sense and I couldn’t even see that I was only making everything worse.”
All his life it has been like that. He forges a path and then sees it as the only possible one.
“You’re not hearing me,” Tony interrupts Steve’s spiralling thoughts. His expression is intense but not angry, irritated by Steve’s answer instead of agreeing with it. “The concussion might be partly to blame, but I didn’t feel unsafe with you. That was the bond, yes, and as soon as my mind worked again, I was terrified. At that moment, I knew I was safe with you, though. I felt the same when you brought me home after – you know.”
Despite the awkwardness of even implicating the night Stane died, Tony means what he is saying. He is standing tall and proud as tries to make Steve see his point. Only that point might be faulty. Steve cannot see anything good about Tony’s body tricking him into believing that Steve could be good for him.
“I don’t think it’s a good sign if you only feel safe with me when you’re injured or drugged and you’re too out of it to think about it with common sense,” Steve argues, clinging to his calm with everything he has. He wants to turn around and run. Tony deserves to be safe. “The bond pushes us together, no matter whether we’re actually good for each other.”
A small smile tugs at Tony’s lips that has Steve’s stomach flipping. He longs to see it more often but not like this. Not while Tony tells him that the abuse heaped upon him does not matter as long as the bond makes them feel good when they are close to each other.
“It does,” Tony says and shrugs, although it does not look very nonchalant. “But I also have a habit of overthinking things. Of taking them apart and pushing them away from me.”
“And you were right to do that,” Steve agrees, wondering what he is even still doing here. He knows why, of course. He promised Tony not to run just because things are getting more difficult. They both wanted a chance to figure this out so they should take it.
“For the moment, yes. You’re no danger to me anymore, though,” Tony says, sounding so sure about it that Steve almost believes him. “I’m not saying we should forget what happened, but I’m willing to try again. We shouldn’t make an important decision like this blindly.”
He is right. Of course, he is. They cannot want to try this without leaving the past where it belongs, even while they should not ignore it either. If they hold on to the uncertainty and the mistakes they made, they will never get anywhere. Still, Steve is so afraid of messing this up more that he cannot answer.
“Could you hug me?” Tony asks suddenly, the words blurring into each other. He does not quite meet Steve’s eyes as if he is ashamed of his request.
“I – what?” Steve asks, certain that he has heard wrong or missed a good part of this conversation.
All this time, Tony wanted Steve to leave, to keep his distance. And rightly so. Steve cannot explain where this sudden change is coming from.
“Not too long. Just – touch me,” Tony says, a hint of red colouring his cheeks. “For a moment. I need to see how it feels.”
To see whether Steve’s closeness is going to push him into a panic attack or make him feel afraid. To see whether they are doomed from the very beginning because Tony might not be able to stand Steve being anywhere near him. To see whether his nightmares and reality are actually different things.
Steve keeps staring at Tony for a long minute, afraid of the answer to all of these things. Then he takes a jerking step forward, awkwardly holding his arms out in front of him. He realizes that looks more like he is trying to keep Tony away from him than offering a hug.
He does not know what to feel, but perhaps Tony is right. All the thinking they have done over the past weeks has led them in circles. He wants to hold Tony. That is, perhaps, the most pressing need he has had since he heard about Tony having that car crash. Just to make sure that Tony is real, that he fits in Steve’s arms the way he dreams of at night when there is nothing between them, no distrust, no reluctance, no fear.
Steve inhales and gathers his courage before closing the distance between them. His hands settle on Tony’s shoulders, feeling the rigid tenseness, and wander to his back to pull him in. The first thing he realizes is that Tony is warm and fits perfectly against Steve. He also does not move, does not relax against Steve but keeps standing stiffly as if he has changed his mind about being touched by Steve.
Just as Steve wants to withdraw, shame burning hot in his face, Tony comes alive. His arms snake up around Steve’s waist, pulling him closer, and his head sinks against the hollow of Steve’s throat. Almost a lover’s embrace. Almost like coming home.
The bond roars for a moment, sending a burst of what feels like triumph through them both. Then it settles into a satisfied hum, coating them in another layer of warmth.
This is what Steve has been looking for, this deep-seated peace coming to life inside his chest. This is the place he belongs to. For once, he is sure that Tony feels the same. That might change again once they let go of each other, but for now, Steve is utterly certain that he is exactly where he is supposed to be.
Emboldened by the comforting weight of Tony in his arms, Steve leans down and presses a light kiss on the top of Tony’s head. Immediately afterwards, he is afraid that was too much, stepping over some boundary, but Tony stays right where he is, not offering any protest.
“You’re something else, you know that?” Steve says, full of wonder. With everything that happened over the past weeks, he never thought he would end up here, his soulmate in his arms and a happy ending in reach. They still have to make something of that, but this is the first time they have an actual chance for that.
“People usually say that in a much less flattering tone,” Tony mutters. His face is still buried against Steve so that his expression is hidden.
“Well, they’re wrong,” Steve says vehemently, fighting against the urge to go out right now and find everybody who made Tony feel less about himself. He knows right where to start, though, so he calms himself down. In a much softer tone, he adds, “I was wrong. But I’d love to get to know you as long as you tell me when you need me to leave.”
Tony withdraws from their embrace and Steve lets him go, although he wants nothing more than to hold on. He is glad when Tony does not go far. His arms are still settled on Steve’s waist, but he is now looking up at Steve.
“Only if you tell me if you want out too,” he says, serious despite the satisfied curl to his lips.
“I promise,” Steve replies with all the solemnity he can muster with how light he feels.
“We have a deal then?” Tony asks, his fingers tightening briefly against Steve, almost as if he is afraid of getting a negative response after all.
Steve hesitates only a moment, wondering whether he is not overstepping. Only one way to find out. So, he says, “Let’s do this.”
Tony smiles as he glances down at his arm. The bond hums in response to Steve’s words, stretching tentatively but golden between them. A warmth spreads through Steve’s chest that is full of opportunity. After weeks of seeing the world in greyscale, life is looking up again.
There are no guarantees here, but Steve feels confident about their decision. People call Tony a futurist, but when Steve looks at him, he sees the future in the most literal sense. His future. He is ready to take the first step towards it. Together.
#stony#soulmates#slow burn#fanfiction#tony stark#steve rogers#marvel#leave the gun on the table#happy end#my writing#ao3#it's finally finished#and I'm still proud of it
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Im in a bad mood because american education system is hell so im gonna ramble about stuff no one cares about for that sweet serotonin aka atsutodo* tho really just Mr Atsushi... Sir Joned arbuck-
*?... like i mean its lowkey atsutodo i will not front but realistically speaking im just gonna talk about thier relationship and whether you see it as platonic or not it is up to you but like just know in my minds eye MY GOD these bitches GAY.... good for them tho... good for them
I just legit don’t understand people who either think/ characterize atsushi as someone who is mean or doesn’t like todomatsu. Like the only person who legitimately should ever feel that way is totty but we will get there. like, i get not everyone stans atsushi and has been following him ever since that one tweet after ep 22 where he is shown baking a totty themed meal (srsly look at this. the second i saw this tweet back in like 2016 i was like “oh i love this dude”)
LIKE.... LOOK AT THAT.......
Ok so back to the point : like i get most people do not care to keep up with the guy who had 19 seconds of screen time in ep 22 LIKE I GET THAT but literally the very second you look at his characterization in literally anything it is just so clear that he genuinely likes totty and seeks out his company!
And like i know some people saw how totty reacted to him in the movie and went “uh.” But you guys are literally forgetting that todomatsu is a matsuno.... plus totty literally tried to maul his own siblings? IDK to me it just kinda shows to todomatsu clearly feels close enough to atsushi in order to treat him like his siblings because totty is the kind of person who values what people think of him (including atsushi. In ep 7 season 2 he literally is apologizing to atsushi even when atsushi isnt even there which means he clearly cares about whether he is on good terms with him or not) so like....? If he really didnt like atsushi he just wouldnt hange out with him. He just got pissed off,,,, not very deep. Plus atsushi didnt even react.... which to me is just like.... he is close enough to totty to know he is dramatic and is use to having totty be a drunk menace to society. Also? People think he was being mean with the whole ‘neetville’ thing WHICH LIKE..... WHAT ABOUT IT.... like im not even convinced he meant it like that but even if he did, he is just teasing them....it really not that deep..... it is one negative interaction out of the many postitive ones they have had and its is mostly totty who is making a stink (which is a common theme.... BUT THAT DOESNT MEAN HE HATES ATSUSHI WE WILL GET THERE)
Back to atsushi, i feel like seeing him in highschool made me kinda get his character more (tho its just my interpretation so idk. I literally do not know how they characterize him in tabi or the spin off because i just havent seen translations for that stuff? Tho i know i heard that in one of the tabi events he was in people said he was nice to totty (aka he was a good guy... like we have known this.) but thats like.. it.) We barely see him talk! He is super quiet! Which is... going back to the last part.... kind makes the lines he has make sense? I feel like he isnt really the best at taking the lead in conversations and isnt really even that good of a conversationalist but he knows what people what to hear so he just says that and it usually works out fine? Like he can fake it well, like when i write a paper and think “idk what im talking about” and then i get it back and the prof is like “wow..... this was.... breathtaking...” like thanks my head is empty! idk if that makes sense but he just seems like the kind of person who was forced to get good at conversing when he finished highschool in order to network and shit but like deep down he would rather not. Like he is friendly! He has friends and he likes being with them but i feel like if it was up to him he would be a bit more reserved. And the fact he likes totty kinda speaks to this?
Before we get to that i should probably prove he likes totty but i feel like it is so obvious i shouldnt have to..... he set totty up with the girls in ep 7, he apparently goes to the gym with totty every now and then and like. Looks forward to it. The hesowars sprite where he is waving totty as if totty was some kind of celebrity (in front of the girls who clearly dont want to see him. Like atsushi is so oblivious to the fact the atmosphere is awkward because he is too busy being.... gay??? Sorry homies i decided it is gay.) also the offical art of totty and atsushi on a totally-not-a-date.... even if you take the subjective gay subtext i put on there off its still obvious atsushi and totty hang out and atsushi puts effort in in order to do so. I feel like the fact he is still in touch with totty after highschool speaks to just how much effort atsushi put in to keep him around because lets be 100%. Todomatsu seems like a NIGHTMARE to actually have a stable friendship that lasts more than a year with. This is the guy who literally does not get the concept of friendship... and yet here atsushi is.....very much being his friend
I feel like unless you are someone who is very good at reading inbetween the lines/a good listener, it would be impossible to be todomatsus friend just because of the front he puts up. I honestly think since they are highschool friends, totty doesnt put up as much of a front with atsushi cuz like... he saw totty at his most baby..... like you cant come back from that. But totty puts up fronts even with his own siblings so he definitely still has to put up some kind of front with atsushi. So i think atsushi being this quiet kid in highschool gave him the skills to deal with totty. I KNOW THAT SOUNDS MEAN I PROMISE I LOVE TOTTY IM JUST BEING REALISTIC. when you arent doing the talking and you are just listening and taking in what people are saying you start to pick up on a lot of little things. And because atsushi knows what totty was like in highschool i feel like he genuinely understands todomatsu as a person. Like totty can act self assured and dismissive but we (and atsushi) know that deep down he really craves affection and validation. Which is why atsushi sticks around with him and even goes as far as setting him up on dates. Atsushi is a quiet dork at heart. I will not budge on this.
So like where does the asshole rich man idea of atsushi even come from?? Because atsushi isnt really like that (tho i will admit it is very funny... rich asshole atsushi is very funny i can not lie)? The line about him having a car never came off as snobbish to me tbh it just seems awkward (like you know... a quiet kid who is forced to converse). Remember how i said we would come back to that? We are finally doing it. Todomatsu matsuno has too many insecurities and he projects them on the people around him. Notice how we always see atsushi from todomatsu perspective! Totty see atsushi as the guy who always one ups me and takes girls from me.... the guy who said neetville,,,, the guy who likes to look down on commoners..... but .... totty isnt a reliable narrator. Todomatsu has a hard time seeing other people as being genuine because he himself cant be genuine. So when atsushi hangs around him, he assumes that he must be looking down on him, because why else would someone like atsushi wanna be around someone like totty :( (i suggest “because he is gay” but like-) i think totty genuinely likes atsushi but he is so self sabotaging that he cant accept the idea that anyone who knows who he is could ever want to connect with him so he tries to keep atsushi at a distance and lashes out whenever atsushi unknowingly proves his warped perspection of him (an asshole rich guy) right because the idea of someone using ur misery as entertainment is upsetting to say the least.
Its 2020 and i cant believe i just rambled about atsutodo but i was thinking about atsushi recently plus...... i dont keep up with the oso fandom but i saw shit about people who thought atsutodo was.... bad??? And like I genuinely just cant see how you could get to that conclusion? It doesnt have to be ur thing but to reach and say its somehow “Problematic” ??????? The only messy thing about it is just totty being a matsuno like..... atsushi is genuinely such a chill guy i just... its not clicking for me.
Anyway atsushi is a dork man. Quiet highschool kid rep. Coconut head king. jon arbuckle. And if he wants to hold hands with todomatsu matsuno?? Who am i to stop him.... insert image of fma love is love thumbs up
In fact after all the effort he has put in? He deserves to hold his hand..... AND TOTTYS HAND DESERVES TO BE HELD/??/
Ok i have work to do bye
#fuzzy rambles#im suppose to be writing an paper on stress#but i got so stressed thinking about it i decided to talk about atsutodo like a loser#also forgot to eat dinner so im gonna do that
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fic: an ode to the man bun (1k)
“Only by loss of an unfortunate bet would I allow myself to walk into a building full of pubescent teens wearing my hair in a ponytail.”
“Man bun,” she corrects. “And they’re not pubescent,” she adds.
“That’s what I said, a ponytail.”
“A bet, huh?” Alice ponders, ignoring him. Then, to Jasper’s horror, he watches as a cheerful smile graces his mate’s perfect little face.
or: 1000+ of unnecessary words about how alice coerces her husband into a man bun for high school. to keep up appearances and be trendy, obviously.
a/n: hi! just dropping a little fic like i’m not new to the twilight fandom (i mean i’m not i’m just new to the twilight renaissance i believe is what you all are calling it). this fic was born from my random guilty pleasure but as i found quickly, other people liked the idea too. the idea wouldn’t go away, so instead of leaving it on my phone, i’m leaving it here for anyone to find. sorry for any typos. this was mostly done on my phone.
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Jasper.”
“Alice.”
“My life,” she tries.
“My whole reason for existence.”
Alice scoffs. “Well, clearly not. Since you won’t even do me this one favor.”
“Jasper rolls his eyes. “I would die for you and you know it. Don’t take advantage.”
“This is a million times less painful than death.”
“As someone who has experienced death and has been ripped apart numerous times, I disagree.”
“You are so dramatic,” Alice complains. Jasper raises an eyebrow then watches his mate’s eyes lose focus for a second. He opens his mouth. “Don’t finish that sentence,” she hisses.
“I didn’t even start it.”
“It’s just a man bun!”
“Two words that were never meant to be put together in a sentence, I’m sure.”
Alice crosses her arms and pouts, the little manipulator. She knows what that does to him. But Jasper has faced hundreds of newborns collectively; he can stand against this not even five foot creature.
He can.
Alice widens her eyes a little and shoves an extra dose of hopefulness his way.
He can’t do this.
But he’s going to keep pretending. He crosses his arms. “Only by loss of an unfortunate bet would I allow myself to walk into a building full of pubescent teens wearing my hair in a ponytail.”
“Man bun,” she corrects. “And they’re not pubescent,” she adds.
“That’s what I said, a ponytail.”
“A bet, huh?” Alice ponders, ignoring him. Then, to Jasper’s horror, he watches as a cheerful smile graces his mate’s perfect little face. Perfectly devilish face he thinks to himself. See, this is a smile of a girl who’s had a vision of this situation going her way. And Jasper has long since stopped trying to be against those.
“I’m not betting on anything now!” Jasper protests.
“Oh, sweetie,” Alice coos. “You already have.”
What?
“What?”
“Remember a week ago? You bet Emmett that you could breathe fire by swallowing some god awful alcoholic fluids and then spitting it back out with your venom?”
Jasper nods, a little sheepish. He had thought that they could maybe breathe fire by swallowing copious amounts of alcohol, letting it mix with their venom and essentially puking it back up. Something like shaking a coke bottle and then opening it. It was supposed to have worked.
“I remember,” Jasper replies warily.
“Remember what he said to you after you lost?”
(They were both laid out on the ground with something akin to a stomach ache and a weird sizzling feeling in their throats.
“Ugh,” Emmett groaned. “Worst idea ever.”
“Yeah yeah,” Jasper conceded. “So, what do you want?”
Emmett had barely opened his mouth when they both turned their heads to the sound of a front door opening and shutting. Jasper had watched as Alice quickly flitted out the door, paused to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, and then move onto Emmett. Jasper couldn’t be sure because her tiny stature had been blocking his view, at the time, but he had thought he’d seen her pass the large vampire something. Then, as a fast as she’d come, she had gone.
Emmett was left standing with a smirk on his face.
“Well?” Jasper had prompted.
“Hm?” Emmett as innocently.
Jasper was immediately suspicious. Unfortunately, he couldn’t feel anything other than his brother’s normal cheerful demeanor radiating from him. “The bet?” Jasper reminded. As if Emmett could have forgotten in the seconds it had taken for that weird exchange to happen. Emmett never le ta bet go if he won.
“Don’t worry about it, bro. I”ll collect my winnings when I think of something,” Emmett had said before lumbering off into the house before Jasper could question him further.)
“Hey Jasper,” the bear of a vampire greets cheerfully, walking into the living room and pulling Jasper out of his thoughts.
Jasper knows he’s been listening and narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
His brother shrugs.
“C’mon, Emmett, we’re brothers,” Jasper tries. Alice just swings her hands by her sides, watching the both of them. Jasper knew a lost battle when he saw one.
“Sorry man,” and Jasper could tell he was sympathetic. Just not sympathetic enough, clearly. “Alice promised she’d convince Rose to leave me behind when they did their seasonal shopping this year,” Emmett explains.
Jasper winced. Damn.
Alice would probably convince him to go. Double damn.
He glared at his mate. She just smiled and blew him a kiss. “Meet us in the bathroom fifteen minutes before we have to leave for school,” she instructs.
Wait a minute.
“Us?!” Jasper sputters. “Fifteen?! How long does it take for a ponytail?!”
“Man. Bun.”Alice corrected again.
Jasper growls.
“Love you!” And then she was gone, off to get herself ready for the fashion show that was high school.
Jasper sighs. “Love you, too.”
Emmett pats his shoulder in condolence as he passes. Lucky bastard died with short hair. Jasper thinks maybe he should just cut his..
“I wouldn’t do that!” Edward yells from somewhere in the house.
“Get out of my head!”
*
Twenty minutes later, and twice that amount of hair product and do overs, Jasper finds himself riding in the Jeep along with his siblings, sporting his new, perfectly messy but not too messy or too greasy or too frizzy ponytail.
“Man bun,” Edward corrects from the driver’s seat, then quickly ducks when Jasper tries to punch him on the side of the head. The car never swerving once.
Jasper inhales sharply. Even though he would never admit – and I’ll rip your fingers off knuckle by knuckle if you tell, he adds mentally for his mind reading brother – he’s nervous.
As if he and his family didn’t already stick out like a sore thumb. He had been sporting his longish hair the same way every day this year. The middle of the semester was not the time to try to start being trendy.
“Game time,” Emmett announces as they pull into the parking lot.
It’s already full of kids, standing around cars, avoiding homeroom.
Well, here goes nothing, Jasper thinks morosely. Alice squeezes his hand as they get out. As per usual, they turn lots of heads. Why did they decide to all drive together this morning? Jasper regrets this since it attracts more attention.
“Who’s the new guy with that Alice Cullen?” he already hears someone whisper.
Jasper grits his teeth and feels a very strange, uncalled for streak of jealousy go through him. The thought of these kids thinking some other guy is with Alice. Even if that other guy is him. Jesus, it’s just hair, it’s not like I shrunk.
“Is that Jasper Hale?” a second asks.
“Of course it’s Jasper, don’t be stupid.”
Jasper mentally sends appreciation to the one kid who seems to have his head screwed on straight. Edward chuckles. If the rest of the day is going to go like this, he was in for a long one.
*
The day passes relatively without too much drama. The same gossip. The same problems. The only thing new being all the “hey look at Jasper’s new hairdo” comments, which he does not appreciate.
He and his man bun would like to just lay low until this day is over, but it’s hard to do when for five students they pass, at least one of them make some kind of comment to their friends about it.
Lunch is the worse since the Cullens are usually the only thing to look at when they all walk in together. Again, maybe they should re think that. Unfortunately, the comments about his hair double. He tries to place himself between the wall and Emmett so there’s less of him to see. Unfortunately, Emmett chooses today to be perceptive and just scoots back whenever he can.
Jasper glares at him.
Alice touches his hand though, and he watches as her eyes inch up just slightly higher to take in his new hair for the day and smiles just a little bit wider and he love for him flares just a little bit brighter.
Jasper thinks he’ll make it through this day just fine.
“We should make this a Man Bun Monday sort of thing!” Alice suggests suddenly. Her eyes losing focus, but not in a vision sort of way, as far as Jasper can tell, just normal day dreaming.
“Absolutely not,” Edward responds before Jasper can. He feels a spark of irritation and… fear? He’s trying to figure out what Edward heard. As far as Jasper was concerned, he thought his brothers were all for his constant high school humiliation.
Then Alice says to Edward, “Oh, but you would look absolutely adorable with a little ponytail!”
Jasper can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, come on, Edward,” he ribs. “Misery loves company.”
Edward grumbles something offensive.
“Hey, no fair,” Emmett cuts in. “What about mine?”
Alice just pats his short curly haired head. “Don’t worry, Em, we’ll figure something out for you, too.”
Then she looks over to Jasper and gives a little wink.
And Jasper? Well, Jasper loves his family. But he really loves his wife. Even if she is a little prone to making him change hair to fit the times.
But hey, a little man bun never hurt no one.
end note: thank you for reading. i do believe this is what the fanfiction world calls a ‘crack fic’ the part about vampires being able to breathe fire is an ode to one of my favorite jalice fics - where they CAN breathe fire by doing this - which you can read here. let me know what you thought? tell your friends about jasper’s man bun potential! typos are my own. if you’re interested, i have written another fic! (this one features tattoos)
#man bun potential#does this really count as crack fic if jasper would totatally do this for alice imo#jalice#jalice fanfiction#do people use that tag#idk#twilight fanfiction#crack fic collection#is anyone even awake to read this lmao#whoops forgot my actual fic tag#my fic#jasper hale#twilight renaissance#posted
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