#anyway that is all sorry for the long pointless ramble if anyone read to the end for some reason ily and hope u are having a good day 💕 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mittensmorgul · 3 years

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For anyone interested in long-term residence in the supernatural fandom, please have some observations I’ve made over the decade I’ve been here. Take it or leave it as you will, but I’ve found all of this info useful over the years I’ve been here.

I wrote this yesterday, and it achieved its mission of identifying the sort of folks who would react negatively to it (i.e. a lot of block lists have been updated), so now that it’s been edited for content, it’s going under a cut (because that is how we do things on tumblr in general, unless we have a deliberate purpose for annoying readers with excessively long text posts) for the sake of people who actually do care about the fandom and its history. If that’s not you or your reason for being here, then keep on keeping on with your own thing, I guess. For those who are interested, there’s a lot of fandom resources some of us have been building for years that you might enjoy knowing about.

First off, I’ve been informed by a few friends who’ve read through this for coherency’s sake that it sort of reads like a *shakes cane from porch* fandom grandma complaint, but honestly... I earned this rocking chair and goshdangit imma rock now. So apologies for any “back in my day” vibes or faint aroma of tiger balm this post might give off. Then again, it’s loosely based on a similar post from 2012 so like... time is a flat circle anyway I guess.

1. There is no such thing as “tumblr famous,” unless you’re referring to the hilarious and delightful fic of the same name (please go read it, you will cackle). Posting Hot Takes for imaginary Clout™ on this site is kind of pointless in the long run. Sure you can post solely for the sake of stirring shit and getting notes, but the majority of the folks who do aren’t long term residents of the fandom. They’re just tourists moving through our little beach town for spring break. If you’re actually intent on moving to this corner of the fandom for an extended stay, please bother to really feel out the permanent residents and understand the culture and general mood of the neighborhood. It bears no resemblance to whatever’s going on across town where all the bars and beach parities are happening, and those loud, drunken revelers are, again, gonna disappear back to their regular lives or on to the next party eventually. That doesn’t mean the fandom is dying, it’s just evolving.

(funny how I had several comments implying that I’m just trying to keep the fandom from evolving with this post, because I sincerely do want the fandom to continue on for years to come, and that is impossible without evolution. We can evolve without self-immolating, though. mostly i included point 1 for an excuse to push ancient but hilarious fanfic on you.)

2. Once you post something here, it’s been unleashed to the fandom winds. You never know where it will end up, or who will comment on it or add to it. Remember that time Misha tweeted the link to the Epic Cockles Love Story post? No? It was wild. That was 2012. They all know we’re here, and how to find us if they want to. Please don’t take it to their doorsteps.

Obviously if someone is being a dick on your posts, please feel free to block them, but the whole entire point of this site is to engage people with your posts. Being big mad that someone reblogged your post with comments or supporting evidence, or happy headcanons or “HECK THIS IS GREAT BECAUSE (insert personal story about their experience or whatever else made them Feel Things about your post)” is frankly ridiculous. If your goal is to avoid any sort of engagement with your posts, then maybe try instagram instead. From what I understand, there is a SPN fandom presence there, and nobody can tarnish your original posts with unwanted commentary. But the ability to reblog with additional commentary is a FEATURE of tumblr that builds community through conversation. Otherwise we’re all just talking to ourselves in a vacuum, and that’s what actually kills fandoms.

(and for the folks who just want to blog how they want to blog and don’t want people to engage on their posts at all, please feel free to block anyone you want, as well... nobody wants to step on your toes, but most of us also don’t want to walk on eggshells wondering if this post is one of the “do not add comments for any reason” sorts of posts, either. This is a huge fandom and most people can’t even begin to keep track of every creator and their url du jour, and what their personal rules might be regarding interaction with their content. Including a “please don’t add comments” note at the bottom of your posts-- and not in your tags that won’t even show up on reblogs, but in the actual body of the post-- would sincerely help avoid any awkward or unwanted interactions, too. At the end of the day, you are in control of your own fandom experience and the block button exists.

For the record, I block zero fandom blogs (which is why I posted this, I wanted it to reach a wide scope... refer to the opening paragraphs as to why).

3. Since this post was partly inspired by a tag I left on that post going around about how “previous tags” mean fuckall on this site (which you can read here), just a reminder that if you like someone’s tags or feel they add value to the post, part of the Peer Review structure of tumblr encourages you to PASTE THEM INTO A REBLOG. If you do this, then at least credit the person who actually wrote the tags! Don’t just copy someone else’s tags into your tags on your reblog of the post without credit either. They were not YOUR tags. (I have had this happen to tag rambles I wrote and someone else got credited with them on a subsequent reblog and it is FRUSTRATING). Just... don’t even bother to write “previous tags” because WHAT PREVIOUS TAGS?! Nobody is gonna bother to chase back the chain of reblogs trying to find where the mystery tags came from, friendos. That way lies madness.

(for the record, since some folks seemed to focus on this point solely, writing “previous tags” on a post isn’t inherently a BAD thing, but for anyone who actually is here for more than one-off shitposting, then it’s sort of a pointless thing in the long run. This wasn’t intended to suggest people who ARE here for one-off shitposting are bad or “doing it wrong,” but for people who might actually want to preserve that hilarious joke or insightful comment. People delete posts and entire blogs all the time around here. Links break. I get that the upcoming generation just shrugs at that and moves on with their lives, but heck... you don’t have to accept that all entertainment is disposable if you don’t want to. There’s a bizarre sort of nihilism plaguing us all about the impermanence of pretty much everything that feels like something we should be fighting against rather than buying into wholesale, even in our escapist entertainment. I’m just exhausted by the complete loss of joy in community.

*shouts from the peanut gallery* IT AIN’T THAT DEEP, JUST GET SOME FRESH AIR AND LOOK AT A PUPPY OR SOMETHING

Yes... yes it isn’t really that deep, but bigger picture in the state of reality we’re all entirely disillusioned with, are we supposed to just give up on everything, including the things we cling to because they bring us a tiny spark of hope that we’re not all just trapped in this dystopian nightmare and things might actually be worth living for?

*peanut gallery clinging to burnt husks of peanuts in a barren peanut field* but this is how we have chosen to cope

Okay... you do you... I feel bad for you but if that’s the case then this post is NOT FOR YOU. AND THAT’S FINE. I honestly do not care if you don’t care! I mean, I’m sorry anyone has to live in a world that drives them to that mindset, but I understand. This post is for anyone who might look at their lives and their choices and think “no wait, I unironically enjoy this and want more from the experience of that enjoyment than I’m currently feeling.” Everyone else can continue with their lives as usual.)

4. CONTENT THEFT IS NEVER OKAY. PERIOD. Things like “credit to the artist” or tagging gifs or images you found on pinterest as “not mine” isn’t actually credit. If you can’t source an image or gif set, DO NOT POST IT! We don’t REPOST (i.e. save an image and then create a new post with it as if it was our own creation). We REBLOG (click the little square arrows and reblog from the actual creator). That goes for gif sets, fanvids, screencaps, meta, fic... everything.

(hopefully everyone here already understands this one, but I felt compelled to include some “these are stupidly obvious” reminders anyway, since this is ostensibly some sort of advice column. This is the equivalent of the warning label on your toaster reminding you not to use it in the bath. Like... duh...)

5. Close kin of item 4 is SOURCE YOUR SHIT.

(for 100% disclosure purposes, I specifically discussed this one in this specific way because of an influx of anon ask messages I received in the wake of the finale. Literally the inciting incident for creating this entire post was what I can only assume was a joking ask about a comment Misha made at a con years ago. Someone actually bothered to take the time to type out those sentences to me. I have no idea what they were expecting in reply, or what could possibly motivate them to send this comment about something so entirely random from, again, several years ago. Just a joke? No idea, but whatever... it got me thinking that there might actually be people who are new to the fandom who MIGHT actually care about the fandom history, and maybe they just don’t know where to go for that info, or how to even begin searching through 16 years of history for things they might actually find enjoyment in, rather than just hauling random out of context garbage out on main and pointing and laughing about it now. People are actually allowed to care about things. It’s not cringeworthy to actually care about things, and you are not alone in actually caring, and there’s this whole big room over here full of people who are thrilled to share in that with you. This post is intended FOR THOSE PEOPLE SPECIFICALLY, so if that is not you, please just continue walking by.)

Yes, I know lots of y’all are new around here right now, but dredging up stuff from years ago that fandom has completely debunked and presenting it as TRU FAX again is just exhausting. We’re not trying to be party poopers, but seriously, we have seen it all and are mostly done with extinguishing bags of flaming dog poop on our front porches for the umpteenth year in a row. I’ve seen a lot of posts that have the same tone as “I saw Goody Proctor dancing with the devil” or “I heard kylo ren has an eight pack” and just... the information is there for anyone who cares enough to find it.

This goes double for “why is nobody talking about this thing I just discovered while watching the show for the first time?!” And, oh hon, we have talked it all into the ground over the last fifteen years. We’re happy you’re discovering it again, but I promise we talked about it plenty when the episodes originally aired. We have such a rich meta history that lots of us have worked really hard to preserve. I encourage you to seek it out, if nothing else than as historical artifacts. The way we have discussed the show has been a 16-year evolution. People have written literal doctoral dissertations on this show. Your shitposts are fun! We love reliving our own experience through fresh eyes, and seeing your wonder at experiencing it all again for the first time! But y’all didn’t invent this fandom in the last six months, either.

Meta Sources and Minerals provided by our friendly neighborhood fandom archivist, @lets-steal-an-archive

Academic books and articles about SPN

A collection of Meta Essays going back to s1 and organized by topic (all of this has happened before, all of it will happen again)

SPN Heavy Meta Archive (s1-3)

Mel’s Dreamwidth archive of meta (s1-12)

Oranges8hands Dreamwidth archive of meta (s1-15, with many similar entries to Mel’s... though ymmv on viewpoint in a lot of these too)

Anyone remember Fandom Wank? Not the concept but the actual LJ... No? Okay have a link to SPN topics that ended up there. Through 2013. We have seen so much... including several fandom containment breaches.

for all your art sourcing needs, please see @theroadsofararchive, the repository for so much fandom art.

need to find a gif of something? canonspngifs is a vast repository of gifsets of the entire series. If the gif you want to use in your post happens to be the first gif in the gifset, in the tumblr gif finder thingy just paste the permalink to that post from canonspngifs (which is easily searchable by episode, character, location, situation, quotes, and sometimes even color and clothing items the actors are wearing... it’s really well organized, especially for tumblr >.>) and the first gif will be automatically linked with credit to the gif creator attached. It makes life easy that way. It’s also convenient when trying to remember something specific but can’t remember what episode it’s from. I’ve used the site to jog my memory before going to the superwiki armed with more specific search results to find episode quotes and references. Or sometimes I just scroll through all the nice gifs for fun, too.

Need a screencap of something and know exactly which episode it’s from? Try Home of the Nutty. You might not find the exact screencap you’re looking for, but they have a complete set of caps of every episode, and it’s an incredibly useful resource for quick reference checks and the like. Just give pages a chance to fully load before clicking on the next one. The site is easily overloaded, but it’s still free to use (and again, with credit... Pretty much every screencap on my entire blog is from HotN unless otherwise credited).

As you can see, this is a fandom built on preserving our history. You absolutely are not required to engage with any of this if that’s not of interest to you, but I can only assume that there are people who would be interested in it if only they knew it existed and how to find it. Well, now they do.

6. A few more notes on tags, and how they work on tumblr. The first 20 tags on your ORIGINAL posts are searchable sitewide, so if you want to be able to find something again, tag that thing first before going on general tag rambles. The only place tags on reblogs are searchable is on your own blog. So you don’t have to put 50 tags trying to get a post seen if it’s a reblog. You’re just spitting into the wind at that point. If you have a filing system for finding things again, then by all means add those tags (again, in the first 20, so they’re searchable), but you don’t need to tag a reblog “destiel” and “deancas” and “dean” and “cas” and “dean x cas” or whatever. Pick one for your personal blog’s filing system, that’s all you need.

(this was only added because tagging and searching on this site is so very broken... I get that a lot of folks don’t care about ever searching their own blogs again for anything, so this one only really applies if you do often find yourself trying to find old posts. If not, then it’s not really relevant. It took me years to work out a decent tagging system, and at the beginning of my time here I never thought I’d end up camping out here for a decade and falling this deep into the fandom, and I regretted my lack of consistent tags only years later when I realized I actually wanted to be able to go back and find specific old posts again. So... for anyone who wants to err on the side of caution, working out a sensible tagging system really helps if you’re here for the long term. I personally tag content by episode, because some of my other general tags are so large as to be practically useless as a search term. But whatever system you choose to file stuff on your own blog, it really only has to make sense to you. And again, if this is pointless advice for someone who has no intention of settling here for the long term. Please feel free to ignore it. I just wish someone had explained it this way to me ten years ago and saved me the hassle of retroactively tagging something like 30k posts... especially now that using the mass tag replacer is the fastest way to get your entire blog deleted... oops? so yeah, don’t use the mass tag replacer either >.>)

7. Tags on Tumblr DO NOT WORK LIKE TAGS ON TWITTER. If you @ someone in the body of the post, it will show up in their notifications (if they’re the sort of person who even checks their notifications... not all of us do. For the record, I generally don’t...), but putting actor or ship names in the tags on a tumblr post does absolutely nothing. It’s not the same as tagging the actor’s twitter account in a tweet. Nobody’s getting notifications about you tagging a post about Jensen here as “Jensen Ackles.” There is a difference. Please learn it. (and don’t take headcanons and ESPECIALLY RPF or otherwise explicit art or fic from tumblr to twitter and tag the actors in it. That’s just... not okay.)

(I have seen the pearl clutchers getting all in a huff about the mere existence of RPF or even explicit content of fictional characters if it doesn’t meet their purity standards, but tagging those things allows people who don’t want to see it to actively avoid that content here. Nobody has a right to tell people their fictional content shouldn’t exist at all, or that creators of that fictional content somehow deserve harassment or threats for having dared to create such “immoral” content, won’t somebody PLEASE think of the children... and no... you do not do that here. Don’t be the problematic behavior you wish to ban from the world. Learn to use tags to protect yourself from, as i have attempted to emphasize here, fictional content you are personally upset by. That’s a you problem, not a problem for the creators of potentially upsetting content that they tag appropriately for.)

8. General formatting stuff: If you’re writing long text posts, visually break them up so people aren’t faced with one long wall of text. The enter key is your friend. Also, if you put long text posts under a Read More break and send people to your blog to finish reading, please ensure that your blog is actually visually accessible (tiny text, or light grey text on a dark grey background, or a visually busy background might be aesthetically pleasing to you but nobody can actually read it. Loads of folks won’t even try. Which is great if you don’t actually care whether people are able to appreciate your content or not, but something to at least consider if you *do* actively want to encourage engagement with your work. Confirm how your blog looks on both mobile and desktop and make sure it’s actually functional in both, too).

And since I mentioned that most of my experience on fandom tumblr has been in the SPN fandom, here’s a bit of a reminder for folks who are new around here. With the reminder that I have been here more than a decade and still feel like a newbie myself sometimes...

This is an OLD FANDOM. There are many, many people who have been at this longer than some of you have been alive. The average age for creators in this fandom is older than you think (I think of my friends in their 30′s as young’ins okay? okay). With that understood, you are responsible for the content you consume and are exposed to. Curate your experience. Ship and let ship. YKINMKATOK. Don’t deliberately expose yourself to content you find upsetting for whatever reason. Tags and warnings are your friends, not targets for you to attack in some sort of purity war. People will ship things you do not like (or in specific ways you do not like), will say things you do not agree with, and will find their happiness in things you abhor. That is not your concern. Find what you do like, and support and engage with it, and ignore (or block, or unfollow) the rest. Tumblr has a feature that lets you blacklist tags so the content you’re trying to avoid won’t appear on your dash.

Remember the paradox of tolerance.

It is not your job in fandom to police how other people enjoy the fandom. It’s not *my* job to police how *you* enjoy the fandom, UNLESS your enjoyment is in actively harming other real human beings in the fandom. If you don’t like their take on the character or the show or the plotlines or their ships or anything else, you don’t need to engage with their posts at all! The necessary corollary to this is that clarifying misunderstandings or correcting factual misinformation is not “policing.”

(this is where the peanut gallery reminds me it ain’t that deep, and I plead with them to put down the social media and find just one (1) thing to actually believe in in this godforsaken life, find something other than disdain and cynicism and spite to live for. If those things motivate you to find a larger cause for yourself, then great, use them to your advantage, but use them to find something that makes you a better person or brings you a modicum of joy and connection to your fellow human beings despite living in a dystopian hellscape of a world)

I have seen a lot of posts lately that are founded on the sort of authority that comes with “I watched through tumblr for a few months and then watched the last three episodes of the series” and as such are just... missing the larger context of the entire show, and are unfounded entirely in canon. I 100% appreciate the new enthusiasm for the fandom that we’ve been living in here for years, and it’s wonderful to see new people enjoying the thing we love. Your headcanons are valid, you are valid, but recognize that your headcanons aren’t canon. All of us finale denialists have accepted this in some measure, so we feel you. We truly, truly feel you. But regarding actual canon, we have a resource for that: the Superwiki. Learn it, live it, love it, as Metatron would say.

(which you could discover he said in 10.17 Inside Man, thanks to the superwiki! accept no substitutes!)

(and again, there have been people who have been involved in fandom for years who haven’t engaged with canon in years, either! You can play in this universe however you choose, BUT FOR PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT CANON AT ALL, WHICH I AM AGAIN POINTEDLY SAYING MIGHT NOT BE YOU, READER, AND I’M NOT SUGGESTING YOU ARE WRONG FOR NOT WANTING TO ACTUALLY ENGAGE WITH CANON, but if you DO want to engage with canon, please have some useful resources. Why do people feel personally attacked by being presented a list of helpful resources? Absolutely baffling.)

(also: words have definitions. “Canon” is a specific thing, meaning in this case “the finished media product that aired on television.” Anything beyond those limits is secondary canon (think: john’s journal, which is not canon but canon adjacent at best...), word of god (i.e stuff said by the writers and showrunners), or headcanon (which includes actor commentary-- they may have helped create the show with their acting choices and whatever, but they are not in control of the story overall). If there’s something you dislike about actual canon, you can reject it and supplement it with your own theories or preferred outcomes-- that’s basically what fanfic is-- but that doesn’t make your theories canon (much to all our dismay, that’s just not how any of this works. This is not to invalidate how anyone engages with the show or the fandom, just trying to clarify what seems to have been a source of unintentional misunderstandings. Your theories do not have to be “canon” to be legitimate interpretations.)

***I am setting this section apart, and did make a separate post of just this following information, because this is where we go from being relatively chill about different parts of fandom choosing to interact in different ways and you do you and blog however you want, to “hey can everybody please understand that the way you are interacting with this specific material might be harmful for specific legal reasons, and stating that you do not care about the consequences of your actions does actively make you the asshole here...” Okay, now that we have that understood:

The spnscripthunt collective has been steadily acquiring new scripts (which are posted in full on the superwiki for everyone to enjoy, for free). The language around how some folks are talking about these scripts is... concerning. For very real legal reasons, actually, and not because we’re feeling precious about the collection and don’t wike it when meanies use them in shitposts.

-First off, these scripts are not “leaks.” They are all verified and legally purchased (or gifted, in some cases, but still acquired entirely above board. we didn’t whack anyone over the head in a back alley for these scripts, or swipe them out of someone’s trailer on set).

(in case anyone was unaware, these scripts are the copywritten protected property of Warner Brothers. So yes, how we use them and share them with the fandom could have legal repercussions. We present them as a collected resource of fandom history which SHOULD fall under Fair Use doctrine, but this is untested legal water. Insinuating that the scripts are somehow not entirely legally obtained, or that posting them for public access involved less than 100% transparent and entirely legal transactions is incredibly concerning.

Once again for the peanut gallery, if you don’t care about any of that and are just having a good time with it, at least be mindful of the work and expense a large group of people have gone through to acquire and present the content you’re all too eager to exploit for cheap thrills. Some of us do actually care and are not exactly comfortable with the fact that others don’t seem to care about burning it all to the ground. We can’t force you to listen or behave as we’d hope you might, but at least be aware of the potential consequences of your actions. All we’re asking is for you to not be the douchebag who sets the whole neighborhood on fire with your illegal fireworks display. Is that too much to ask for? more on that in a second, first... a psa)

-If you see a script for sale and are unsure if it’s legit (or believe it might already be freely available in our collection), please feel free to ask us for advice. Our goal is to make as much of our fandom history available to the entire fandom, and we absolutely do not want anyone shelling out money for stuff you can already find for free.

(seriously, we’ve seen a bunch of resellers cropping up selling printed versions of the scripts we bought and uploaded for everyone to enjoy free of charge, or scripts that are otherwise of dubious origin. We’ve been at this for years now and know what’s actually out there. We don’t want anyone to fall for a scam if we can help it)

-Also, the usual reminder that the scripts we acquire ARE NOT NECESSARILY THE FINAL SHOOTING DRAFTS. In fact, the majority of scripts in our collection are NOT. Changes are made daily to scripts, even during filming. Comparing a Production Draft (white pages, effectively the first “final draft” of what usually becomes a series of drafts before filming wraps) to a much later revision (say... green or goldenrod revisions, several of which we DO have in our collection for comparison) and how those earlier drafts often differ wildly from the aired version versus how similar a much later green draft is to the aired version, for example, can teach you a lot about the television writing process. The link above to the superwiki scripts page has a nice little explainer about how this process works.

Differences between our posted scripts (many of which are white drafts, aka FIRST complete drafts, which will likely go through multiple rounds of revisions before filming even begins) and the aired version of the show are not all “acting choices” or a director or editor just cutting whole scenes on a whim. It’s insulting to everyone involved in production to suggest that’s the case.

(and yeah, fine... whatever, make any sort of posts you like regarding how those changes came about, but at the very least understand that it’s not actually the truth about how any of this works. Don’t care that that’s not the truth and want to make the posts anyway because shitposting is fun and that’s the extent of your sense of humor? FINE! You’re entitled to do that! But at least you DO know the truth now, and hopefully so do the people who engage with your posts. Deliberate ignorance isn’t cute, smooth lions notwithstanding)

There’s probably a whole other post to be made on fandom tagging etiquette, but again I don’t really use the tags enough to know what’s going on with that whole situation. I’ve also probably left a lot of stuff out, so please feel free to add things I’ve overlooked.

Thanks also to @trisscar368 and @thayerkerbasy for help compiling this, too. They were kind enough to escort me through the park to feed these pigeons. Now I need to take them out for ice cream. :’D

So I guess welcome to the neighborhood. Make yourself at home, but like... try not to trash the place while you’re here. Some of us live here by choice, lol.

#this blue hellsite (affectionate)#fandom problems #kinda wish i'd made this post six months ago but here we are i guess lol #long post #now edited for the people who are actually personally invested in the fandom #thanks for participating in this little experiment and I hope this version is actually informative to those who are interested #meaning there's a lot more links to stuff and explainers and whatnot...#and one last reminder that for folks just swinging through for laughs absolutely none of this applies to you #if you are legit interested in fandom history and preservation as we move to the post-canon world then hopefully this is useful to you

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hpimaginesandblurbs · 3 years

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request: remus lupin: war ended and james and lily are still alive because it makes me cry and him like going to her and confessing his love for her because he’s loved her for years and it ending in smut??????

pairing: remus lupin x reader

warning(s): pg, fluff, feelings, mentions of war and trauma

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i decided not to include smut because it just didn’t feel right for this, ya know? just wanted a cute little remus fluff post because i’m in love with him. possibly a part 2 if anyone wants it? also i cannot recommend it enough but please go read ‘all the young dudes’ by MsKingBean89 on archive of our own if you haven’t already. and bring the tissues if you do.

The war was over and you were all finally free. Thankfully you and all of your friends had managed to survive.

James and Lily were safe from the threat of Voldemort, now able to live their lives as a happy, normal family with their two year old son. Sirius had moved out on his own, away from his tortuous family, but he was always around. And Remus. He no longer had to go away for months with packs of werewolves, constantly worried about his chance of making it out alive each time he had to leave.

Throughout it all, despite your own involvement in the Order, you were always the most worried about Remus. You knew James and Lily had been hidden appropriately and Sirius could always fend for himself even in the worst of times, but Remus’ disappearances always left you on edge. Not being able to see or hear from him for months was practically torture when the feelings you had for him were so strong.

You had loved him for years, watching him grow up alongside you. Watched him go from an anxious child, to a rambunctious teen, to a young adult riddled by the effects of war. It had started as an innocent crush in your fifth year at Hogwarts, but it grew into so much more as the pair of you grew closer in adulthood. You and your friends were forced to stick close to each other, especially after Peter’s unexplained change of heart, and you and Remus just seemed to click.

And here you were, waiting for him to arrive. He had sent you an owl, letting you know he wanted to see you almost the second after the news broke that the war was won and over. It had you giddy with anticipation.

The knock on your door startled you out of your thoughts, but you immediately launched up to grab it, knowing it was him. The second the door swung open you were practically tackled into a hug, the both of you sighing in relief with the knowledge that for the first time in years you were safe.

You stood like that for a long time, neither of you letting go and just content to hold each other. You kept repeating to yourself how it was nothing more than a friendly hug, one shared between two people who had suffered from similar traumas, but the way he was clutching you desperately made you think otherwise.

“Sorry,” he said abruptly, pulling back, suddenly aware that the hug had gone on for far too long to be considered appropriate, “I just- I just needed to see you. Make sure you were okay.”

“I think this is the first time I’ve been okay in years,” you said with a slight chuckle. If only he knew. “Come in,” you offered, pulling the door open further to make room for him to enter.

You both made your way to the couch in silence, but you immediately set to work serving him tea in the exact way you knew he liked it. You two had sat at the same dinner table for seven years together, after all.

He took it from your hands with an easy smile as you sat down next to him. You didn’t even know where to begin. You and all your friends had a lot of catching up to do. But he started the conversation for you.

“Look, I don’t know if this is the right time for this at all. I know we all just went through hell and back, but I- I couldn’t help myself. I had to come see you,” he started, staring down at his tea.

Your heart began pounding, and you knew he could probably hear it thanks to his damn werewolf capabilities.

“Re, you can tell me anything. You know that,” you said gently, trying to keep your voice steady despite the shake in your hands that you were desperately trying to hide.

His head snapped up and his eyes met yours. The look he gave you was conflicted but oh so determined, his Gryffindor braveness carrying him through the moment.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ve been in love with you for years, but it was just never a good time. I was way too young and immature to say anything back at school and then the whole war and I was scared we wouldn’t make it out so I never said anything and I don’t even know if you feel the same so this could all be pointless and-” he rambled, but you cut him off with a gentle smile.

“I love you too. I have for years,” you admitted, feeling so relieved to finally have it off your chest. You had never told a single soul for fear of him finding out, but you were sure Lily knew anyways. She always did.

“Really?” He asked, his eyes softening and a giddy smile spreading across his face.

“Yeah really,” you replied, scooting closer to him on the couch until your legs were draped over his long ones. “I never said anything either because I thought you wouldn’t feel the same, and I agree that confessing feelings in the middle of a war probably wasn’t the right timing, but here we are.”

“Here we are,” he quietly agreed, putting his cup of tea down on the side table next to him and wrapping his arms around you.

It felt so natural being in his arms. So easy. So right.

You were both feeling a little stupid and clueless to have kept this from each other for so long.

Before either of you could say anything more, his lips were crashing onto yours in the best and most anticipated first kiss of your life. You had been waiting for years for this moment, and it was even better than you expected.

His lips were so soft against yours, moving in perfect sync with you as he pulled you in closer. His tongue shyly darted out to swipe against your lower lip, silently begging for entry that you so happily gave him. His tongue explored your mouth greedily, relishing in your utter submission to him. Your body was pliant against his, letting him hold you and move you in any way that he pleased. Just being held and kissed by him was more than enough for you.

He finally pulled away and you were both breathless. Foreheads pressed against each other with small smiles on your faces, you stared into each other's eyes for a moment.

“I needed that. I needed this. You,” he said quietly, not daring to break the gentle energy in the room. “Getting to this moment, right here, was the only thing that kept me going all those nights I was away. All these years,” he admitted just as quietly.

That brought a sad smile to your face. That, despite his suffering, at least you had unknowingly brought him the same comfort he had brought to you over the past few years.

“I was so worried about you. Every time you left I could barely sleep. Rarely ate. I just needed you home,” you told him solemnly.

“I know,” he said with a breathless chuckle.

“How do you know that?” You asked, pulling away slightly with shock on your face.

“Sirius may have said something to me after the last time I came back. I made sure he kept an eye on you,” he explained, a blush coming to his cheeks.

“So all those times he came over for a cuppa wasn’t just because he wanted to see his friend?” You asked jokingly.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Remus laughed. “Of course he wanted to see you. But I may have told him about my feelings and he promised he’d keep an eye on you when I was gone.”

You just rolled your eyes and laughed. These boys never failed to shock you, even years after their pranks and shenanigans were over. You both stayed silent for a moment, just mulling over everything that had just happened, until you broke it once more.

“So what now?” You asked, a brow raised.

“I suppose this is the part where I ask you to be my girlfriend. So..?” He trailed off with a question in his voice. And although he could already assume the answer, the look in his eyes was close to begging. He wanted this, he wanted you, so desperately that you could practically feel the need radiating off of him.

“Of course,” you replied with the first genuine smile you may have cracked in years, pulling him closer for another kiss.

#remus lupin #young remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #hp marauders #young marauders #marauders #remus lupin smut #remus lupin fluff #sirius black #james potter #lily evans #lily evans potter #peter pettigrew #harry potter

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lunar-wandering · 3 years

Text

Impersonate - Chapter 2

i did not expect you guys to jump on this AU like this but. your energy gives me energy so. here’s chapter 2 for the Doppelganger AU fanfic.

read on ao3

MK, surprisingly, was the first person awake in the morning. He could tell he was the first one awake mainly by the fact that he couldn't hear anybody else moving around, Pigsy would always start making breakfast, Sandy would make tea, so on and so forth. The silence meant he was the only one awake.

Usually, MK would just go back to sleep, and wake up again later, once everyone else was awake.

One glance at the clock showed that it would be pointless for him to do that anyways, Pigsy or Sandy would probably be awake soon, so it didn't matter.

MK figured he might as well head out into the kitchen to wait, instead of sit in his room with nothing to do.

...Which was how he found Macaque, sound asleep, head resting on the kitchen table.

For a moment MK paused, unsure of how to proceed. He still didn't exactly trust Macaque, though the shadow monkey had yet to do anything other than pretend to be Wukong.

....MK was going to opt to just ignore him, when he suddenly heard movement coming from one of the other rooms.

This, of course, typically wouldn't be a problem, it meant that somebody else was awake, and that MK would soon have somebody to talk to. However, Macaque was asleep. Which meant his glamors where down, very much revealing him to not be the Monkey King.

MK had promised that he wouldn't let the others find out, and he wasn't exactly one for breaking promises.

One of Macaque's ears twitched, (and MK mentally noted that- he was absolutely going to bring up the real six ears thing later-), and for a moment MK hoped that the sound of someone moving had been enough to wake him up.

But other than the ear twitch, Macaque didn't move, and no glamors went up.

...Shit. Looks like MK was on his own for this one then.

He debated whether or not he should just wake Macaque up himself, but he knew, for a fact, that Macaque hadn't been sleeping well. He was using a glamor to hide it, but MK recognized the tired motions, as much as Macaque had tried to cover it up. (The reason MK could recognize it at all is because he'd gone through some sleepless nights himself, but that was a problem for a later date.)

MK couldn't find it in himself to interrupt Macaque's rest.

But he was going to come up with a solution quick, as he could hear a door slide open.

MK did the first thing he could think of and grabbed a nearby blanket, throwing it over top of Macaque, effectively hiding him from view.

Just in time for Sandy to walk into the kitchen.

"Ah, MK, normally don't see you up this early. Everything okay?" He asked, and upon receiving a hurried nod in response, turned his attention to the other person in the room. "..Who's under the blanket?"

"Ma- Monkey King is!" MK hastily corrected himself, "I think he uh. Must've stayed up all night or something."

Macaque had, in fact, stayed up all night.

He'd been restless, MK knew now, he had no idea what the kid would do with that knowledge, in fact, it had been rather stupid and careless for Macaque to have volunteer the information so freely. But Macaque had been, well, slightly sleep deprived for a while, so maybe a few slips made sense-

But still. He had no idea if MK would actually hold true to his word on not telling anyone else. He was sure the kid had a rule about promises, most hero-types tended to after all, but did that rule extend to villains?

Macaque wasn't sure.

He had no idea he had even fallen asleep until he'd woken up. At first he panicked, wanting to shoot upright, but held back upon sensing something over top of his head. For a moment, in his half awake state, he wondered if he'd been captured again- but then his senses came back to him, and he realized that it was just a blanket. A very soft blanket at that, and Macaque almost wanted to fall back asleep-

"Who's under the blanket?"

Macaque tensed. In his brief panic, he had completely forgotten that something must've woken him up.

"Ma- Monkey King is!"

Oh wow was the kid bad at lying. He'd have to give Wukong a piece of his mind the next time he saw him, really, not even teaching the kid the most basic of basics- being able to fool your opponent could be a life saver in the right situation.

....He could teach the kid himself-

Macaque squashed that thought before it could even fully form.

As it was though. MK and Sandy were obviously both in the kitchen. A quick check and he could hear Pigsy, Tang, and Mei still in their rooms, sleeping peacefully.

He tuned back in to Sandy and MK, and found that MK was rambling, stumbling over his words, trying to explain why 'Sun Wukong' was sleeping at the kitchen table, with a blanket covering him. It was starting to get to the point where it just sounded ridiculous, and Macaque sighed. He'd have to take this into his own hands apparently.

Casting an glamor over his head, (he was too tired to do his whole body, besides, the blanket would cover most of him so long as he was careful), Macaque sat up.

"...Shut up." He muttered, effectively quieting the kid. "It's far too early for this."

Not exactly a lie, he was tired.

"Ah, sorry, did we wake you up?" Sandy asked.

"Yes." Macaque hissed, before catching himself. "Uh, I mean, it's fine. Doesn't matter. I would've woken up soon anyways."

That was a lie, with the way he was feeling right now, he probably would've slept through the whole day without intervention.

Sandy hummed in response, setting a kettle onto the stove, and pulling some tea and coffee out of the cupboard.

"How do you like your coffee, Macaque?" He asked.

"Black- wait." Macaque paused, as the whole sentence registered in his head, and he could hear MK quietly gasp. "Wait. How did you-"

"It wasn't all that hard." Sandy said, sitting down across from him at the table. "Unlike the others, I do know Monkey King."

"No no no, I need, I need you to tell me where I slipped up, how I made it obvious-" Macaque vaguely was aware he was rambling, but he felt the situation warranted it. "Seriously, tell me right now so I can fix it right now, I can't let anyone else find out- it's bad enough that I told MK-"

"Should I be offended by that?" MK asked, interrupting Macaque's rambling. "I feel like I should be offended by that."

"Shush, kid, the ancient demons are talking." Macaque said, which turned out to be a mistake.

"Ancient demo- what do you mean 'ancient demons'?" MK asked, turning to look at Sandy. "What- what does he mean by ancient demons???"

Sandy said nothing, whistling innocently, and Macaque sighed, letting his glamor fall down, (although he kept the one on his ears and his scar), as he rested his head on the table.

Fuck, he was too tired for this.

"He's Sha Wujing." Macaque mumbled, "Wukong's brother."

"What?!"

Macaque tuned out MK and Sandy's conversation from there, he honestly didn't really care about it.

What he was more concerned about was the fact that Sandy had figured him out. If he had figured him out, did that mean the others had too? What where they going to do about it? Where they just waiting for him to slip up again, so that they would have an excuse to kick him out? He didn't quite fancy being on his own when the Lady Bone Demon was out there, still doing her creepy thing. He wasn't exactly keen on getting captured again.

Macaque was brought out of his thoughts when a cup of coffee was carefully set down beside him.

"You don't need to worry about it, by the way." Sandy said, when he saw the look Macaque was giving him. "I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who figured it out, and that's just because I know Monkey King. I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to."

"....Okay. But you're the last person that's going to know about this, okay?" Macaque said, glancing between MK and Sandy. "No one else can know."

A few sips of coffee was all Macaque truly needed to perk right back up. Sure, he was still very sleep deprived, but at least now it wasn't going to be as obvious. It gave him enough of a boost to be able to throw on the Wukong glamor entirely.

The others were all awake now, and were, for the most part, ignoring him, just pausing to say hello, as usual, and the way Macaque would like it to stay. Sandy and MK had already found out, he couldn't risk getting too close to the others and slipping up.

"...Weird." He heard Mei's voice say from behind him. "MK, didn't you say that Monkey King didn't like bitter things?"

"Yeah?" MK said, "He doesn't, why are you-"

"Well then why is he drinking black coffee?"

Macaque choked on said black coffee, barely stopping himself from whipping his head around to look at her, his shoulders tensing. Fuck, he hadn't thought of that, he knew for a fact that Wukong liked sweet stuff, how could he have been so stupid-

"Ah, um. I lied about him liking sweet things?" MK said nervously, and okay, Macaque was once again considering actually giving the kid lying lessons.

"No, no, he didn't lie-" Macaque said, turning around in order to face Mei. "-I just recently started drinking it. I don't actually like it, it just gives my morning a bit more of a kick."

As he said this, he took another sip of his coffee, fake-cringing as he did so. Mei raised an eyebrow.

"Suspicious." She muttered.

"No- it's not!" Macaque replied, and Mei shrugged, seemingly moving on.

...Macaque had a feeling this would come back to bite him later.

Macaque hid down behind a bush, MK close beside him, sneakingly peaking over top at the scene before them.

The Lady Bone Demon was there.

Or, well, she wasn't there specifically, really, there was just an illusion of her.

But there was a demon, someone Lady Bone Demon had probably turned into her lackey, there. Macaque and MK couldn't afford to be seen.

It was just their luck that they'd run into something like this now.

MK had, earlier, spotted some fruit trees on the ground they were flying over, and had insisted on going to pick some. Recognizing it'd probably strange if Wukong didn't want to go get fruit, Macaque had gone with him.

He was kind of regretting that decision.

"I'm sorry my lady." The demon said, "I can't find him anywhere."

Him? So they were just looking for one person then, but who-

"I still don't understand how you were able to let the Macaque escape." The Lady Bone Demon hissed and oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

Macaque turned to look at MK, who was glancing at him in confusion, before the pieces clicked together in his mind as well. The kid immediately smiled giddily, bouncing a little-

Macaque quickly put a hand on top of MK's head, pushing him down and quickly putting a stop to that.

"Keep your head down." He hissed, "You can be excited later, right now we need to keep from getting ourselves attacked."

So they sat there for a few more moments, and Macaque pointedly pushed all his thoughts on the fact that Wukong had escaped to the back of his mind for now. He could think about that later, right now what was important was getting himself and MK back to the ship safely.

As soon as the demon turned and began to walk in a slightly different direction, Macaque took the chance. He picked MK up, throwing him as well as the fruit they'd gathered over his shoulder, and ran back to the ship, occasionally using the shadows to speed himself up.

He paused before jumping up to the ship, double checking to make sure his Wukong glamour was still on and fully intact. Nothing had happened that would make it break but.... well. Macaque wouldn't exactly say he was never paranoid.

Macaque jumped up onto the ship, setting MK and the fruit down beside him.

Sandy was the only one there to greet them.

"...Where are the others?" Macaque asked.

"Tang said he saw a village that way." Sandy said, pointing in the direction opposite of the one Macaque and MK had just come from. "They went to see if they could get any supplies. You...do remember you don't need to use the Wukong glamour around the two of us right? We already know so-"

"We should probably check in on them soon." Macaque said, purposefully ignoring Sandy's question. "The Lady Bone Demon's lackey is walking around the woods. Wouldn't want them to encounter each other."

"Oh- are you two okay-"

"Monkey King escaped!" MK cheered, and Macaque barely kept himself from startling at the sheer volume of it, covering his ears.

"Oh! Well that's good news then, isn't it?" Sandy said, and MK nodded, jumping up and down.

"....Not necessarily." Macaque muttered, "We still haven't found him yet. You'd think that, if he's free, he would've met up with us, right?"

"Well, the demon was searching around here, so that probably means Monkey King was also around here-" MK started.

"But if he's around here, then why hasn't he come to the ship?" Macaque asked, "I don't know, it seems a bit strange to me."

"You sure you're not just scared of how Monkey King will react when he finds out you're pretending to be him?" MK asked, and Macaque glared at him.

"No, I just. Think it's odd, that's all-" He said, crossing his arms. Sandy lightly patted him on the back, making him stumble.

"Hey, it's okay- maybe he just got a bit lost!" Sandy said, MK nodding along with him in agreement.

"Yeah! And besides, I'm sure he won't react too badly to the fact you're impersonating him, since he did rescue you- and you rescued me." MK said, slinging an arm over Macaque's shoulder. Macaque didn't hesitate to push him off.

"Impersonating implies that I'm enjoying this experience, which I'll have you know I'm not." He said, "Besides, Wukong isn't exactly one to get lost-"

"Oh, I'm sure he's fine, he is the Monkey King after all." Sandy reassured, "Either way, I'm sure we'll find him eventually."

As it would turn out, Wukong would end up finding them first.

#Monkie Kid #Doppelganger AU #my writing

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just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi · 3 years

Text

Mice in the Walls

CW: stalking, implied parental abuse, implied victim cutting ties with abuser, captivity, “it” as a pronoun meant to demean, choking, hitting, implied delusions, angry whumper, controlling whumper.

Please read the CWs on this one. I’ll be more than happy to give you a general summary if you need (will probably do so anyway) let me know if you want a specific tag, and I’ll tag everything with this topic “Bernard tw” as he’s the culprit.

Stay Safe loves, and do what’s best for you.

[First Part]

The doorbell rang and Bernard took a breath. As he opened the door, he put on his smile. The friendly smile, the inviting smile. The one he used at work and for the cashier at the checkout lane.

The mask.

“Steven! How the hell are you?” he asked cheerfully, reaching out for a firm handshake.

“Doing well, life’s just a joy.” The body smiled back at him, cheap wine in its hand and absurdly ignorant of how pedestrian and mediocre its life was. Bernards eye’s skimmed over the man’s obnoxious shirt pattern, its ill filling slacks and cheap shoe polish before opening the door wider and gesturing it in with a smile.

“Well, I didn’t invite you over just to stand on my porch! Come on in, lunch’s almost ready.” He had prepared some simple things, mostly store bought. He had no intention of trying to impress this pawn.

“So Bernie, what’s new in the Wright household?” Steven asked lightly, setting down the bottle of wine and peering at the others displayed. Perhaps it would spark some recognition of how abject of a gift that had been.

Bernard doubted.

“Nothing much, Steve. Just livin the good life,” he recited as he ventured into the kitchen.

“How’s Adam doing?”

Bernard kept his back to the man, dishing out the potato salad.

“Oh good, getting ready to graduate.”

He could feel Steven pause behind him.

“Oh? I thought something got jostled when he moved schools?”

He bristled. Adam had moved, again. Always moving, blocking his numbers, spreading lies about him. How did he not realize that he just wanted the best for him? That he could help, that he could be a resource? The world wasn’t what Adam though it was, it was dangerous and hateful and-

The plastic container cracked.

“What was that?” Steven asked, popping its head over Bernard’s shoulder.

“Damn cheap plastic. Good thing I already got some out, eh?” His voice was pitched light and jovial, softly concealing his rage. He put the now broken container to the side and picked up the bowl to set on the table between them.

Bernard ate almost in silence, the body across from him droning on and on about the most inconsequential, mundane things. Its wife, its car, the remodeling of its house. It was pitiful. Nearly fifty-years of existence with only the most boring of conversations to show for it. Surface level, meaningless accolades that only made it seem more pathetic for how much it cared.

The only time he found himself truly paying attention was when the conversation turned to the man’s daughters. They were also highly inconsequential, but they were the link that he had been searching for.

They knew Adam.

“Kesly is doing great, just about to finish high school. Man, can you believe it? Feels like just yesterday she was playing princess and pirate and now my baby’s going to college. Maddie’s just made varsity at her school.”

Steven took another sip of its drink and winked conspiratorially at Bernard. “If Adam still plays then maybe they’ll face off some time, eh? She used to to whip his butt when they played in middle school.”

Bernard squinted slightly with a toothy smile. “Only because he let her. And he’s gotten far better over the years.” He hadn’t seen Adam play since then, but he could only assume that his skill had improved over time.

He took another bite of his lunch and made a mental note to find Maddie’s school and locate what colleges were in the district for lacrosse.

Irritatedly, the conversation shifted to something pointless again and Bernard was left to wait until it could be useful. As the time dragged on, there was a dull thud from somewhere higher in the house.

“What was that?” Steven asked, turning around its chair to look behind and above him.

The fork bent under Bernard’s hand.

“I didn’t hear anything.”

Steven shook its head, wiping its mouth with its napkin. “No, no there was definitely a noise.”

“Oh, that,” he replied casually, taking an even breath. “There’s mice in the attic.”

A huff. “Sounds like pretty big mice to me. I can call a buddy out if you ever need anyone to do something about it. He’ll do it real cheap, too.”

Bernard waved him away, keeping the utensil under the table and bending back to its correct shape. “No, no need. I’m handling it myself.”

They continued to chat uselessly, meaninglessly, until Steven finally decided it had wasted enough air here and would go be pointless somewhere else. Bernard watched him leave, said the expected this was great, we need to do it again soon, see you later before locking the door, finally free of such a useless creature.

Teddy was hiding. Or at least, closest that he got to hiding with the chain giving his location away. He was between the bed and the wall, in the small space where the roof met the floor.

He had been reading, laying on the bed trying to get lost in the book he had already read a million times. Maybe it had worked, considering that he had fallen asleep. The book fell.

Now he was shivering in his only hiding place, desperately hoping that no-one had been home. He wished he knew what day it was, he wished he knew the man’s schedule, he could tell went it was safe. But no, there was no safety here, no regular pattern for him to latch onto. It was hell.

The locked clatter and the ladder slunk down, filling him with fear. He was here, he had heard it. Teddy curled a hand around the bedpost.

“Come out.”

He didn’t, he couldn’t. He didn’t want to go back in the coal shed, didn’t want to be punished. It was an accident, and even then he was afraid that the nearly-memorized books would be taken away.

“Now,” the man growled. Teddy shook his head and held on harder.

Bernard groaned and wrapped the chain around his hand once, then twice, then pulled. The boy was still holding on so Bernard pulled again, harder this time. There was a small cry and a dragging noise as Teddy was pulled from behind the bed.

Bernard looked down at him and only one thought screamed back in his head.

Adam moved.

Adam had moved again.

He had moved, and blocked his number, his profiles, ever way that Bernard could contact his son were shut down, forbidden from him. He cut him out, disrespected him, shamed him left him to suffer through hours of meaningless conversation just for the smallest bits of information.

Looking down, Bernard couldn’t contain his anger any longer.

“You switched schools? Again? Without consulting with me? You ungrateful bastard,” he sneered, kicking the boy in his ribs. He yelped, eyes wide with fear. Good. He should be afraid, he should be ashamed of his pathetic behavior. He had been taught better than to disrespect him like this.

Teddy coughed and froze, tears starting to pour from his eyes. No, no no not this again. “Please,” he coughed, rolling onto his side. “Please I’m not Adam.” Every cough hurt, sending little bolts of pain through his chest and side. Still, he looked up to the man, staring into the steel cold eyes.

“M-My name is Theodore Ramirez,” he rambled quickly, not for the first time. “My parents are Diana and Jonathan, they live in-”

“NO!” The man shouted, pinning it down and wrapping his hands around its neck. No! No, no no no this! Stop! He squeezed, putting more and more weight on it’s thin throat. He would make it stop.

Teddy wheezed, shoulders pinned down by the man’s knees. He was on top of him, he was choking him, he was killing him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Struggling was useless, the man being so much larger than him. His clipped nails left practically no marks, drew no blood.

“Don’t. You. Ever say that again,” growled, lifting its neck to slam it back into the wood. “Never. You are Adam, and you’re going to stay this time.” He loosened his grip the slightest bit.

“Understand?” His question only had one correct answer. Teddy knew it, didn’t have enough air left to deny it. His head still spun from the blows, a loud ringing obstructing some of the words.

“Y-Yes,” he managed, only the ghost of a noise. “Yes, I’m Adam. I’m sorry - I’m Adam.” The pressure let up more and more as he complied. By the end, the man was only resting his hands over the boy’s throat.

Bernard signed and raised a hand to brush it across Adam’s cheek gently. “There. See, things are so much better when you stop lying. Let me take care of you, keep you safe.”

The boy coughed and cried underneath him, never leaving him again.

taggy boissss @whump-me-all-night-long @starnight-whump @highwaywhump @panic-and-chaos @as-a-matter-of-whump @cowboy-anon @just-a-raccoon-in-a-party-hat @milk-carton-whump

#whump #the lonely house #stalking tw #implied parental abuse #cutting ties aftermath tw #captivity tw #it as a pronoun tw #choking tw #hitting tw #delusions tw #angry whumper #controlling whumper #teddy #bernard #bernard tw #pls met know if there's anything else

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male-fanfics-for-days · 4 years

Text

Pierced By Cupid

Tsukishima x Reader

A/n: I may have spent waaayy too much time on this one, so sorry if it seems like it was dragging on. Tsukki is a charater I went from hating to loving mostly bc I relate to him so much. Anyway, enough on that!! This has not be prof read so sorry for mistakes!!

ENJOY!!

EDIT: I made a part 2 which you can find here! The Jealous Type

At first, he didn’t really notice. He wasn’t looking for anything so there was no reason he really would have noticed, but when he did he was actually shocked by how he didn’t notice before.

A boy, only what he could guess was an inch shorter than Nishinoya with h/c hair and his school jacket off, was in his class studying at the time. Not surprising, however, it was a college prep class. But it was the way the boy kept glancing up at the clock that got Tsukishima’s attention, bouncing his feet and twirling his pencil in his hand while seemingly only somewhat paying attention to his studies.

The only reason Tsukishima was at all looking at the boy was because he was annoying, the boy just wouldn’t stop moving which reminded him of a certain ginger boy the made him groan in his head, prying to any god that he didn’t believe in that this boy wasn’t like the short, excitable spiker on his volleyball team.

Somehow, he got vibes that this boy was different, though he didn’t want to jump to a calming conclusion.

Soon the bell rang and he stood from his desk as it was time for him to get ready for the after-school volleyball club activities. The boy he was watching before, despite seeming anxious to get out of class, was calm in collecting his things. He put away his notebooks and pencils in a neat and orderly fashion, setting them all gently in his shoulder bag that looked brand new.

“Tsukki?”

Tsukishima blinked a few times, refocusing and looking down at his long time friend, who was staring up at him in confusion.

“What?” Was Tsukishima’s blunt response, starting to put away his own things as well, which were not much.

“You were drifting is all,” Yamaguchi muttered out, looking around the room as the other students left. “You were pretty far gone too.”

“The guy who sits behind you wouldn’t stop moving.” Tsukishima replied honestly, adjusting his headphones on his neck and making his way out of the room, Yamaguchi following by his side.

“The guy behind me?” Yamaguchi thought out loud, looking to the ceiling as they both made their familiar path to the club room to change. “You mean L/n-san?”

“I don’t know his name,” Tsukishima tisked, rolling his eyes while stuffing his hands in his pockets. “He was just moving so much and staring at the clock, it was annoying.”

“Hm, it’s probably because his petition for a club creation got accepted and it starts today.” Yamaguchi theorized, and despite his refusal to believe, Tsukishima found himself getting curious.

“... I didn’t think a first year would be allowed to do that.” He simply stated, both to keep the conversation going and to state a fact that he really didn’t know. Yamaguchi chuckled softly and nodded his head.

“Apparently it took a lot of convincing, both on L/n-san’s part and apparently his middle school teachers and a therapist.”

“And where did you hear all this?” Tsukishima prodded. Not to say he wasn’t interested in this tale, but it was an odd amount of information for his shy, freckled friend to have. “Gross, please don’t tell me you are gossiping now?”

“E-eh! N-No Tsukki!” He stammered, flustered. He waved a hand and looked up at Tsukishima. “The others in the class were talking about it while we were eating lunch… I wasn’t eavesdropping! They weren’t quiet about it!”

“What club did he want made, anyway?” Tsukishima swiftly changed the subject, much to the relief of Yamaguchi’s heart.

“Archery.”

“Archery?” Tsukishima echoed back, stopping his walking in the hallway just outside the door that led into the club room and gave Yamaguchi an inquisitive look. “Why archery?”

“I’m not sure,” Yamaguchi shrugged. “But, if it involved a therapist, he probably has a reason he likes archery.”

Tsukishima stood silent for a long moment in thought, which surprised Yamaguchi a small bit. Tsukishima was never one to show an interest in a subject that he wasn’t himself already interested in, but for him to be thinking about not only someone else, but what that someone else was interested in was like seeing a blue moon.

Finally Tsukishima gave a grunt and a shrug, opening the door to the club room and thereby bringing an end to that conversation.

--------------

The next day, Tsukishima found his gaze unwillingly going back to the boy from before. It seemed he wasn’t as anxious as before, though still bouncing his legs and twirling his pencil, he looked far more at peace today. Tsukishima wondered if it was because he got to do his archery club yesterday after school, like it was an itch that wasn’t satisfied until he had a bow and arrow in hand.

Tsukishima then began to wonder what that was like, to hold a bow and an arrow in hand, to release an arrow into a target several feet away from you. He’d never done it before so he let his mind wonder.

Was it fun? Did he get a lot of people to join the club? Is it like playing volleyball or like playing an instrument? What type of techniques does he do to hit the middle of the target with one clean release of a bow string?

The more he thought, the more his curiosity grew. He knew it was probably pretty obvious he was burning holes into the back of the boy's head, but he couldn’t help getting lost in his own head.

“Y/n-chan!”

A girl came bouncing into the classroom and Tsukishima was immediately annoyed, she was far too perky compared to the boy whose head raised at the sound of his name.

“Hello, Nachi-san… Why are you here?”

Tsukishima felt the corners of his mouth lift up at the boy, Y/n L/n’s, reactions. The girl gave a dramatic pout while placing her bento on his desk.

“We are supposed to be eating lunch together!”

Y/n looked up at the clock, then down to his desk, and then up at her before averting his eyes to the desk once more.

“I don’t remember saying that…”

“You don’t remember a lot of things.” She sassed back, putting her hands on her hips. Y/n glanced at her before bouncing his feet and twirling his pencil once more, the girl, Nachi, started to speak again.

“You also said we were going to study after school. I have a test coming up for math and you know how much I suck at math, really it’s as if it’s a whole other language. Speaking of language, we should study English together as well. You’re so go at it, I don’t think you have ever gotten below a 95%!”

As the girl rambled on with pointless conversation, Tsukishima could tell that Y/n wasn’t at all listening to what she was saying. It looked as if he just turned off his mind, eyes slowly drifting around the room, never on the or anyone for that matter. It was like he was seeing a different world before his eyes, and this was all while the girl continued to prattle on.

Tsukishima couldn’t stop the low chuckle that left his throat as he watched, the girl just now realizing that the boy she was speaking to had no idea she was even speaking in the first place.

“Y/n-chan!!”

Said boy flinched at her loudness, his hands going to his ears as he blinked rapidly at her, his brows frowning as she huffed at him.

“You were spacing out ag-”

“You should eat your bento before lunch ends.” Y/n dropped his hands to his desk, leg beginning to bounce once more as he looked at the clock. “I’ll be at archery after school, so I won’t be studying. Oh.”

Y/n then smiled at the girl, completely overseeing the fact that he cut her off and wasn’t listening to her.

“I bought a new bow yesterday with my father after the club, it is larger and is a more western type of bow. It has been really fun to use so far and I really can’t wai-”

“Did you even hear a word I said?”

The girl cut him off, glaring down at him with arms crossed. Y/n lost his smile and looked at her confused.

“When?”

“Just now!” She called out. “I was talking to you then you cut me off!”

“Oh…” Y/n’s joy that was once there faded quickly and he dropped his head in a bow. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… I just had-”

“Never mind, Y/n-chan.” The girl sighed, shaking her head and picking up her bento. “I’ll go have lunch with my other friends.”

Y/n watched her leave silently, Tsukishima himself watching as well. He didn’t really understand it, but he was angry at the girl. Tsukishima himself was not someone with an overabundance of patience but even he could understand Y/n was not someone who could focus easily.

It was obvious that Y/n had a type of ADHD, the lack of focus on conversations, the constant moving, covering his ears with loud noises, interrupting mid sentence and rapid movement from topic to topic.

Despite all this Tsukishima was even more curious about the archery boy, and not for the reason he was before. Before he was curious on a basic level, why archery, why start a club, why so much movement, and so on. Now he knew more about it and was more curious on a deeper scale, why do archery if you had trouble focusing, why be in a college prep class that requires a lot of focus and study, why was it so difficult for him to start a club (despite the obvious fact of only being a first year).

Yamaguchi wasn’t at school for a family reason, as he had told Tsukishima threw a text, so when the day was through and time for him to go to his own club, Tsukishima found himself walking down the hall to a different gym then his usual.

It was went he heard solid swift thuds through the open door way of the gym that he found what he was looking for, in the blink of an eye, he saw arrows pass the view of the door then a satisfying thunk of the arrow finding its target.

Tsukishima stood in the entrance of the gym, looking from one side of targets to where the arrows were being shot from. Despite being in the view of Y/n, he was far too focused on the grip he had on the arrow and bow string to care about someone at the entrance of the gym.

He released the arrow with a breath out, and instead of a thunk deep into the target and Tsukishima expected, he instead he a snap and crack. Looking to the target, he allowed himself to be in shock.

The arrow just released had gone straight through the back of an already embedded arrow, leaving the first arrow split in two while the second arrow was stuck between the two split pieces.

“Wow, you’d better hope that’s not school property.” Tsukishima snickered, giving Y/n his ever famous smirk. Y/n looked a little shocked that anyone was there, let alone watching. He held his bow by his side, placing the arrow he was about to take out back in his quiver.

“It’s my own equipment.”

“Ah, so were you just trying to impress me?” Tsukishima continued to smirk, Y/n looked to the floor and shook his head before looking back up at Tsukishima.

“I didn’t know you were there… I don’t suppose you're here for the Archery Club?” Y/n mood seemed to shift from anxious to relaxed as he spoke the words archery, but Tsukishima shook his head.

“No, I’m on the volleyball team. I just came to see what the noise was, I’ll be leaving.”

He turned and walked away from the gym doors, his mind already thinking up an excuse for having to show up late for practice when he heard Y/n’s voice.

“You can come by anytime you want,” Tsukishima turned and looked at Y/n with a blank face, Y/n smiled a small corner smile. “The club was just made, so it’s only me. The teachers are going to find other students who want to join… Until then, it will just be me.”

Tsukishima and Y/n both stared at each other for a moment, Tsukishima not breaking his blank faced facade. He turned and walked away, throwing a comment over his shoulder before he fully walked away.

“We’ll see.”

---------------------

Y/n changed the times for his club, so instead of having it just after school he asked for the early morning as well, before school truly started. He was the time he set up so him and Tsukishima could spend more time with each other without Tsukishima getting in trouble for missing practice.

Their meetings have been happening for about 4 weeks, Yamaguchi formally meeting Y/n a week after Tsukishima had already been hanging out with the archer.

In such a time Tsukishima learned a lot about Y/n.

Archery was one of the only things that ever allowed Y/n to focus with an almost superhuman accuracy. It was also one of the ways he would study, more likely to remember the answers to a review if he nails a bullseye. Another thing he had learned was that Y/n was just as sarcastic as Tsukishima himself, the only difference is that Y/n never said it out loud.

Y/n had trouble with noise, specifically loud noises or the sound of multiple people talking at once. He once described the feeling to Tsukishima as he was cleaning his bow and arrows.

“When I hear a loud noise or a crowd of people, my whole body goes stiff. It started to become hard to breath and not matter how hard I try to block it out, I can’t move.”

Y/n sighed, letting the bow rest on his lap and on his crossed legs. He sat across from Tsukishima who was looking through Y/n’s notes, Tsukishima looking up at him pause.

“When that happens, I kinda… black out. My whole body suddenly feels like the energy was just sucked out of me,” Y/n looked at Tsukishima in the eyes as he gave a somewhat weak smirk. “I usually pass out when it happens.”

“... that sucks.” Tsukishima responded, Y/n giving him a blank look before rolling his eyes and standing.

“No shit, aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?”

Tsukishima smirked and looked up at the boy while raising a brow.

“Keep that attitude and I won’t let you eat my spare sweet bread.”

Y/n immediately turned back around, almost entirely forgetting he was supposed to be doing archery.

“WAIT YOU HAVE SWEET BREAD?!!?”

In the classroom, they simply acted as strangers. Not ignoring each other, but also not making a show of friendship. Tsukishima and Y/n both realized they were the same in that they didn’t really need to interact with each other constantly to know the other is still a friend.

Yamaguchi said how nice it was to see Tsukishima gain more friends, which Tsukishima quickly shot down as him not ‘making friends’ like a child. One of the reasons Tsukishima was quite upset with Yamaguchi about saying this was that he said it during volleyball which meant his other teammates heard it and were relentlessly teasing him.

Sure, he was good at dodging their questions and instead riling them up the way they tried with him, but his teammates genuinely wondered who this mysterious new friend of Tsukishima’s was.

None of them thought they would meet this friend today.

They were maybe 1/4th of their way into practice when they heard a soft voice call out to Tsukishima from the gyms door way, everyone in the gym turned their heads to see a short h/c boy standing with a shoulder bag over his shoulder, his uniform jacket around his waist and a grey notebook in his hand.

“Um… Tsukishima… You forgot your notebook in my gym.” Y/n held up the notebook as if to show proof of why he was interrupting their practice, he gave a deep bow to the coach and the other volleyball players. “Please excuse the intrusion.”

“You’re fine, kid.” Coach Ukai said, but the end of whatever he was going to say was drowned out by a few people Tsukishima never wanted meeting Y/n.

“Are you Tsukki’s new friend we’ve heard about?!” Tanaka called out, going straight up to Y/n who flinched a little at his loud voice, flinching more as Nishinoya jumped up and down next to him.

“Ah! You’re shorter than me!! I’m not the shortest anymore!!”

“You’re still the shortest on our team, however.” Tsukishima cut in, making his way over to Y/n who only relaxed a little more as Tsukishima stood next to him, taking the notebook.

Nishinoya was irked by Tsukishima’s comment, but it was Hinata that set off a bomb of questions aimed at the already slightly overwhelmed boy.

“OOOOHHH!!! You’re the first year that started the archery club, aren’t you!?!?”

“Uh… y-yea-”

“ARCHERY?!?! LIKE THE KIND SAMURAIS USE?!?”

“Well, not all the time but-”

“You’re the leader of that club right?? How many people have joined so far?”

“No-”

“Alright, calm down.”

Daichi tried and failed to calm the rambunctious trio, even Kageyama was muttering out questions. It took a moment to realize that this was what kind of chaos Y/n couldn’t listen to, and when Tsukishima looked down at the boy he could tell immediately he was not well.

His chest visibly stuttered, showing he was not breathing right, his skin went and lighter shade and his eyes were moving rapidly to each person who was talking and speaking over each other.

Tsukishima swiftly turned away and walked over to his extra school bag he brought with him, thanking his past self for finding a reason to bring it.

“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi softly called his friend, but Tsukishima was too focused on something else.

Tsukishima pulled out his headphones, an extra water bottle, his phone, and his black volleyball jacket. Standing back up and turning back to Y/n, who looked to be getting worse by the second, he put his plan to action.

Without even acknowledging the other people in the room, he put his headphones over Y/n’s head, placing them over his ears, plugging it into his phone and playing whatever music was available. He picked up Y/n’s hand and placed his phone in his grip, then put the water bottle in his other hand before putting one of his large hands over Y/n’s eyes, then glaring at the group that was round them.

Y/n leaned into Tsukishima’s hand that was over his eyes, his breathing slowly going back to normal, with puffs of air as he tried taking deep breaths.

“You’re all overwhelming him, idiots.” Tsukishima almost growled out, glaring at a specific four people. “Do any of you know what personal space is?”

He didn’t wait for a response as he took his hand off Y/n’s eyes and guided him to his bag, Y/n kept his eyes closed and took sips of the water before allowing Tsukishima to lower him to the ground next to his bag. Y/n curled his legs to his chest, putting the bottle beside him and clutching Tsukishima’s phone close to his chest, Tsukishima then placed his black jacket over Y/n like a cover, successfully blocking out the harsh gym lights.

Once he stood at full height, watching Y/n for a moment for any other signs of discomfort, he turned to his team and glared.

“If I knew you were all going to try and kill him, I would never have let you even know he existed, not that I wanted to in the first place.” His last comment was directed at Yamaguchi, who looked down.

“Gomen, Tsukki.”

“We didn’t try to kill him!!” Hinata cried out. “Will he be okay?!”

“Not if you keep yelling, you walking, human orange.” Tsukishima snapped, making Hinata irritated but covering his mouth.

Sugawara was the one that came over to Tsukishima, glancing down at the covered, curled up boy.

“Is he really okay? What was that?”

“He’s sense’s are hypersensitive. Like I said, he was overwhelmed.” Tsukishima replied, looking down at Y/n and sighing, before looking off somewhere else. “He’ll be fine, he just needs time to recover.”

“Would it be best for him to move to the club room then-”

“No.” Tsukishima quickly answered, cutting off Sugawara who seemed taken back by his quick answer. “Let’s just keep practicing. He’s fine here.”

There was a thick silence before Coach Ukai clapped his hands and told them to continue. Kiyoko and Yachi stood by Y/n as he hid away in Tsukishima’s jacket, making sure no stray volleyball hit him while he was recovering. The boys were also cautious of being too loud, especially Hinata, Tanaka, and Nishinoya, the loudest of their team.

Practice went on like normal and finished just the same, them all getting ready to change and go home. Tsukishima kneeled down in front of Y/n, who was still curled up and had his jacket over his head, and he slowly took the jacket from off him.

What he saw made his heart skip a bit in a way he never felt before.

Y/n had his arms crossed over his knees with his head laying on them, Tsukishima’s headphones still on his ears playing music while he slept peacefully. His cheek was pressed to his arms and his mouth was slightly one, little out tiny puffs of air.

He looked so small, so at peace. A peace Tsukishima has never seen on someone before, and watching his eyelashes flutter somewhat in his sleep as he dreamed, Tsukishima quickly realized what this feeling in his chest was and felt a heat rise to his face in response.

Slowly peeling his phone out of Y/n’s hand and taking his headphones back, he placed his hand on top of Y/n’s head and spoke softly to the sleeping boy.

“Hey, we’re leaving.”

Y/n didn’t stir for a moment, which made Tsukishima softly run his hand over Y/n’s head in a gentle pet to wake him up.

“Y/n.”

It was then that Y/n’s eyes fluttered open, Tsukishima moving his hand back to his side and watching as Y/n slowly woke up. He opened his mouth and let out a yawn, then lifted his arms over his head in a cat like scratch, letting his legs stretch out as well. He made little noises of someone just waking up, rubbing his eyes and he took in a deep breath, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

Tsukishima would first be found dead and as tall as Nishinoya before he would ever admit to thinking Y/n was currently the cutest being he has ever known and has ever existed, and he was really glad no one else was left in the gym to see it. He would never admit that he would have been jealous to know others saw Y/n’s cute display, to know that Y/n was like a plushy in human form.

“Your practice is over?” Y/n rasped out, his voice still soft from sleep.

To avoid being seen blushing, Tsukishima quickly went about packing his things.

“We are leaving now.”

“Oh… okay.”

---------------------------------

There was little to no talking among the two as Tsukishima changed and got ready, Yamaguchi had stayed in the club room to tell them both that the team was buying meat buns as an apology for what they did earlier.

Yamaguchi spoke with Y/n casually as they made their way down to their coach's store, Tsukishima only half listening to what they were saying, half thinking deeply to himself.

Did he really fall in love with this archer boy? Half of his mind reasoned with him that it wasn’t that surprising, seeing as they had a lot in common but they were also very different. That part of his mind admitted full force that he was in love and that he was allowed to have nice things like then.

Then came his logical side, with a list; they were both boys was the biggest, Tsukishima had never looked at guys romantically before, he knew Y/n for 4 weeks, outside of school he barely knew anything about Y/n outside of the small things he’s been told, Y/n himself doesn’t know much about Tsukishima since he never really made and effort to explain more about himself outside what he thought was needed, the team would probably never see him the same again, people in class would probably talk which was more annoying than anything.

He started thinking the same way he thought for volleyball, why try if it was going to end poorly, for both him and Y/n. Why risk all the bad things that could happen, no, that would happen.

‘I’m not in love’ He thought to himself conclusively looking down at the boys conversing next to him, but unfortunately for him, his heart had other plans.

Y/n had a tired smile that made his face shine in the most beautiful way, a gentle laugh leaving his chest as something Yamaguchi had said. His eyes squinting into crescent moons with crows feet wrinkling his slightly flushed cheeks, making them look soft in the moonlight. Then, he turned to look up at Tsukishima.

He knew at that moment that no matter how many times he would say it’s not true… he was pierced by this small cupid boy, and Tsukishima now knew what it felt like to be one of Y/n’s targets. Though, he was not complaining.

His eyes reflected the moon and were glossed in a still sleepy way, his eyes still crinkled at the corners and a smile now more soft than cloth could ever be. He was looking up at Tsukishima as if he had just handed him the earth and sky, and as dangerous as the feeling was, Tsukishima could feel in his chest that if Y/n asked for it, he would give him just that.

“I’m sorry if I made your practice more difficult, Tsukki.” Y/n said gently while shrugging his shoulder, unknowing of the effect of his voice and words on the tall boy's heart.

“... Tsukki?” Was the only thing that could leave his lips, his brain using every ounce of control it had not to turn into a blushing mess. He was so whipped for that small archer, and Y/n had no idea.

“Oh, sorry,” He bowed his head with a slight laugh. “Yama-san calls you that, so I thought I could as well.”

Tsukishima glanced over to his long time friend, who only gave a small chuckle in response.

“Mm.” Tsukishima didn’t risk his voice, knowing if he tried to say anything at the moment, he would in fact let loose that Y/n was more than welcome to call him anything.

“Oi! Tsukishima! Yamaguchi! Archer-san! Over here!”

The trio glanced up and saw the rest of the volleyball team outside the store, each eating a meat bun. Without knowing it, Tsukishima walked closer to Y/n’s side, and the only reason Y/n noticed was the warmth and was radiation off him.

They got closer and Daichi stepped forward, bowing to Y/n who became even more flushed then simply the evening air.

“I would like to formally apologize for overwhelming you before.”

The rest of the team bowed as well, making Y/n back up into Tsukishima, resulting in Tsukishima gently placing a hand on the small of his back.

“O-oh, it’s okay.” Y/n looked down and away, avoiding eye contact. “You’d be surprised how often that happens to me, I’m just glad Tsukki got to me before I collapsed.”

“Eh?! Would you have died?!” Hinata exclaimed in sheer worry, but flinched after seeing Y/n flinch himself from the loud tone of his voice. Hinata was hit in the head by Kageyama, who scowled at him.

“You’re too loud, boke.”

“Ugh! I--” Hinata was about to yell as just a natural reaction when talking to the dark haired setter, but glancing at Y/n who was slowly starting to hide behind Tsukishima, he growled low and glared at the ground. “...I know that.”

“Here,” Asahi came over to Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and Y/n, handed them a bag filled with meat buns. “I got one for each team member and two for...eh...uhm.”

Asahi had to peek around Tsukishima’s back, everyone now noticing that Y/n basically hiding behind Tsukishima and staying close to his back while watching everyone. Y/n blushed and stuttered.

“E-eh, my names L/n Y/n.”

“L/y-kun.” Asahi finished, smiling shyly back at Y/n who gave one as equal.

Though it would go unnoticed as Tsukishima going into the bag to grab a meat bun held by Yamaguchi, what it really was was Tsukishima blocking everyone's view of Y/n.

Sugawara spoke next, smiling at everyone.

“As nice as it would be to get to know L/y-san, we have early practice tomorrow and it's getting colder.”

“Right,” Daichi said, “Tomorrow morning will be one by one training seeing what each of us can work on, so get well rested.”

“Yes sir!!”

Tsukishima gave the meat bun bag to Y/n and covered his ears, everyone else sheepishly looked on and replied again more quietly.

Yamaguchi said he needed to go to the grocery store to get a few things for his mother before he went home, so he told Tsukishima and Y/n to go without him. This left the two boys to walk home together, alone.

Y/n quietly munched on the meat buns while they walked, unknowingly shivering as he stared up at the evening sky, then to the buildings around in a distracted way. Tsukishima didn’t really know what his plan was, but he stopped Y/n from walking with an arm in front of him.

Y/n bumped into his arm, not seeing it before, then looked up at Tsukishima.

“What’s wrong?”

“You were going to trip over that.” Both Tsukishima and Y/n looked down and saw a large branch from a nearby tree in the way, Y/n went to pick it up but Tsukishima just used his foot to kick it out of the way.

He then began taking off his jackets and placing it on Y/n’s shoulders.

“You are also shivering.” Tsukishima looked ahead, acting as if this was no big deal. But he caught a glimpse of Y/n snuggling into his jacket more and had to look away, a silent cuss mouthing from his lips.

“Thank you, Tsukki.” Y/n said, continuing to munch on his snacks. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were being nice to me.”

Tsukishima, stopped walking, in turn making Y/n stop walking and look up at him. Tsukishima then places the back of his hand on Y/n’s forehead, Y/n himself looking on in pure confusion.

“Uh… Tsukki-”

“If you think I’m being nice, you must be sick.”

Y/n snorted and let out a hearty laugh, swiftly swatting away Tsukishima’s hand and stomping down the road like a child, all while Tsukishima hid a smile behind a smirk.

“You’re dumb.”

“Wow,” Tsukishima snarked, walking next to Y/n and looking down at him with his signature smirk. “Did you think of that one all by yourself? I’d say I’m proud but, I don’t care.”

Y/n laughed again, shaking his head, not noticing the look of pure admiration Tsukishima was staring at him with.

Despite the nervousness he felt of his feelings being found out, Tsukishima felt as if their conversation was as smooth as any. It wasn’t forced or uncomfortable, Y/n laughed freely and comfortably while Tsukishima joked and sent sarcasm his way. He would have thought that after knowing how attracted he was to the boy, he would have stopped being natural or at least would not be talking as much as he was at the moment.

But everything with Y/n was natural, as natural as the moon is to the stars. Their conversations switched and changed often, though Tsukishima felt no irritation as the excited glimmer in Y/n out weighed any negative thoughts.

Tsukishima hadn’t even really realized it until he and Y/n stopped in front of a house, that he was walking Y/n home and this was where they went their separate way.

Y/n neatly folded the bag that was now empty of meat buns and put it in his pocket, slowly taking off Tsukishima’s jacket and handing it back to him.

“Here, thanks again for letting me use it. And it was nice to meet your team.”

Tsukishima took his jacket back, flushing slightly at touching Y/n's hand and looking off.

“Even despite the fact they almost made you pass out.”

“Well, in truth they did make me pass out, but luckily you were there so I didn’t collapse and make a fool of myself.”

“I don’t think that is what makes you a fool, Y/n.”

Y/n puffed up his cheeks and slightly hit Tsukishima’s arm, Tsukishima not feeling anything and just smiling it off. Y/n turned to his house and walked to his door, not wanting their fun to end but they would see each other again tomorrow.

Knowing they would be together again tomorrow, even for a short while, made Y/n’s chest swell with joy.

“Y/n.” Y/n had just put his hand on the door handle when he heard Tsukishima’s voice.

“Yeah, Tsukk--”

He turned to face Tsukishima, but he didn’t expect him to be so close. Practically pushed up against the door, Y/n looked up only in time for Tsukishima to lower his head and made their lips touch.

Y/n’s eyes immediately fluttered shut at the warmth that suddenly filled him body, the smell of Tsukishima intoxicating him just as his jacket had been for so long.

In truth, if it were anyone else, Y/n would not have calmed down so quickly, he would not have felt comfortable enough to fall asleep just anywhere, he would not have felt comfortable letting just anyone touch him the way Tsukishima had.

And in return, Tsukishima didn’t know anyone that made him open up as fast as Y/n did, not even Yamaguchi, his childhood friend. He had always been closed off and unwilling to put his whole heart into things, with fear of failure, heart break, rejection. But through this kiss, through connecting his lips to Y/n’s, he was saying that his heart was open to Y/n and only Y/n. Somehow, through the 4 weeks of knowing one another, it was like cupid's arrow was destined to pierce them both.

They pulled apart, the breath mixing as they stayed close, the lips brushing over each other as they soaked in what had happened.

“Kei.” Tsukishima’s voice came out in a hushed tone, one that made Y/n swoon.

“Wha--”

“If we are going to be together,” He continued, standing straight and looking down at Y/n’s flushed face with a smile. “Call me Kei.”

Y/n stood in shock, but as many things in his head, he was quick to smile back and Tsukishima. He allowed his heart to swell with the only thought of the tall boy with glasses and a sarcastic attitude, Tsukishima too allowing his mind, body, and soul to be only filled with the short, just as funny, archer boy who stole his heart in record time.

“Well… goodnight then… Kei.”

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

#haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu!!#tsukishima x reader #x male reader #tsukishima x male reader #tsukishima kei #haikyuu x reader

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plasticnightmaredoll · 3 years

Photo

I’m still working on the NSFW Alphabet for Enigma/Edward Nashton/Riddler-Before-He-Was-Riddler from “Arkham Origins,” and it’s going to take some time because of my work schedule being the PITA that it is...

However, I do have some snippets of an Arkham Knight!Riddler x female!Reader fic I’ve been working on here and there over the last few weeks.

Now, these are not beta-read, so there may be some mistakes, and some things might change or be added or rearranged, etc. when I do get around to proof-reading the complete fic, but the basic idea of each snippet won’t change from here on to the finished product.

The general concept behind this fic is what would it take for AK!Riddler to, well, get his shit together? We all know how he started out as a snack -- or more accurately, a damn MEAL:

then became a...well, a hot mess (still adorable, though):

Possibly having someone in his life who actually appreciates him and shows him some affection could get him to clean himself up? Because we all know this boy is most likely touch-starved and would probably cry if someone was actually sweet to him, and he’d probably do whatever he could to be as presentable as possible to keep them around -- anything to keep them from vanishing from his life and leaving him all alone and unwanted again.

Anyway, here are the three (non-beta’d!) snippets from the fic:

Snippet 1:

Initially, Edward told himself it was for his own good. He was Gotham’s one true genius so why shouldn’t he take better care of himself? Cloning was not possible, nor was there any way to transfer the human consciousness into a machine. All of this meant there was only ONE Edward Nigma, and he deserved to look and feel his absolute best.

Besides, he thought it was yet another way to one-up anyone who opposed him. Yes, of course he could look just as put together as anyone else -- or better. He was superior in every possible way after all.

It had all started with a comment from Selina as she was leaving to take care of the job Edward had assigned to her.

“You know, Eddie,” she said, turning to look at him over her shoulder. “Ladies like men who don’t smell like a car repair shop.”

With that, she was gone and Edward was, at first, not even registering what she had said to him. But it did creep into his thoughts faster than he would have liked, and he analyzed every piece of it. Why would Selina say such a thing? Then again, most people said pointless -- or more accurately, stupid -- things. Normally, he would have disregarded and forgot about it as he went about his work, but it nagged at him like a mathematical equation without a proper solution.

Taking a break from working on some new Riddlerbots, Edward went to the bathroom to locate anything he had on hand to take care of the headache he was currently dealing with. He found a bottle of Aspirin in the medicine cabinet, but when he closed the door, he stared at his reflection for a moment (When was the last time he’d given himself a proper glance in a mirror?)

As Edward took the Aspirin, he remembered Y/N was coming to see him that day -- soon, actually. Perhaps a shower would be a good idea? She would probably appreciate it if he didn’t smell like a car repair shop. And he probably would feel better being clean. Could help him think a little more clearly.

As he showered, Edward told himself this was primarily for his benefit and he wasn’t trying to impress Y/N -- or anyone for that matter. Deep down, though, he knew this was part of something he didn’t quite understand, something dealing with Y/N, something he hadn’t experienced before. That part of him was too afraid at that time to come forth and propose an answer to this dilemma. This was unfamiliar territory, something that wasn’t logical or scientific but emotional and...no, that “strange” part of him needed to stay quiet if he wanted to keep his thoughts together.

This was nothing. Nothing was going on. Everything was normal. And no, Edward didn’t feel relieved when Y/N complimented him on his appearance upon arriving. Taking a shower and putting on nice, clean clothes had nothing to do with gaining her approval. He did it for himself, to give himself a “refresh” before getting back to work. He wasn’t aiming to please or impress anyone, remember? Not even Y/N.

Especially not Y/N.

Or so he thought.

Snippet 2:

Something was different when Edward put someone else before anything of his, namely his work. Had it been anyone else, he’d have tossed a bunch of insults and told them never to bother helping him again.

However, with Y/N, it was completely different -- and he didn’t even realize it at first.

She was carrying a box of mechanical parts to bring to Edward to aid in constructing new robots, and he had warned her to be careful, to not overload the box or it would be too heavy for her. While carrying the box of gears, wires, and metal bits, she tripped over her own feet and fell forward. The box toppled over onto the floor, spilling the contents everywhere, and she collapsed on her left forearm and knee.

“I told you to be careful!” Edward growled as he rushed over.

“I’m sorry!” Y/N said, pushing herself up and looking at the mess. “I don’t think I broke anything--”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Y/N fully expected Edward to examine the scattered parts to see if they had sustained any damage but he went right by them. Kneeling down beside her, he gently took her left arm and briefly studied the scratched skin.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” Edward said as he carefully felt her forearm and elbow. “And your knee….”

“I think it’s ok,” Y/N said as she moved to sit. “It hurts, though.”

Edward placard his hands on Y/N’s left knee, feeling around and noting how she winced several times.

“Not broken,” he said. “But most certainly will be sore and bruised for a while. Here…let’s get you up.”

Edward let Y/N put an arm around him to steady her as he helped her to stand. Of course, her left knee ached far too much for her to walk on her own, so he continued to guide her to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry about the stuff,” Y/N said, looking and sounding as guilty as she felt.

“Don’t worry about it,” Edward said absent-mindedly as he located some clean bandages and antiseptic cream. “Most of it probably won’t even be needed for what I’m doing now, and I can always acquire more. In fact...I have more in storage.”

Edward turned on the faucet and tested the water until it was comfortably warm, then he gingerly took Y/N’s left arm and began cleaning it with soap. It stung a little but she tolerated it, studying his highly focused expression and wondering if this was even happening? He truly wasn’t upset that she dropped the box of bits and pieces? She just couldn’t wrap her head around it, and doubted that anyone would believe her without proof.

Edward dried Y/N’s arm with a clean towel before tossing it in the trash. After applying some antiseptic cream to a strip of bandage, he proceeded to wrap it around her arm, covering the wound.

“There…” Edward said, admiring his handiwork. “How does that feel?

“Good,” Y/N said.

“Now for your, uh, knee.” Edward swallowed, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “It...doesn’t appear to be bleeding so...I think we can just put, um, ice on it. Unless you think it needs to be looked at?”

“No, I think it’s fine. Ice is fine. Thank you.”

Edward nodded before clearing his throat and reaching out to Y/N.

“Come,” he said. “Let me help you to the couch.”

Snippet 3:

“Ok, who are you and what did you do with Eddie?” asked Selina as she looked Edward over incredulously.

It appeared that Edward finally got his shit together and was taking care of himself. Not only was he free of grime and grease, he was dressed in rather impressive attire: black dress shirt, green gloves, green trousers, and dark brown boots. Even his hair was cut and styled differently as it was shorter with subtle layering, the offset part causing bangs to fall over most of his forehead and just above his brows.

Another noteworthy change was Edward’s weight. Instead of surviving on snacks and coffee, he must have been eating actual food again as he was no longer skin and bones. Actually, he looked a little bit...toned? Was he back to his old routine of perfectly planned, ultra-healthy, balanced meals coupled with a decent amount of exercise? Selina remembered he used to get up early in the and exercise almost right away most days of the week. It helped him “get focused” before even having coffee, he had said.

“What are you going on about?” Edward asked in an agitated tone. “Nevermind. It’s nonsense anyway.”

“Personality is still the same,” Selina muttered as she followed Edward to a workbench.

Once he was done explaining in excessive, almost condescending detail the particulars of the items she needed to steal for him, she decided to ask some questions.

“So, tell me, Eddie,” Selina began, turning to him. “What inspired you to finally start looking like a professional criminal mastermind as opposed to an overworked grease monkey?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Edward said, before clearing his throat and straightening, a smug smile on his face. “I came to the long overdue conclusion that, as Gotham’s one true genius and Batman’s superior, I should look after myself and be presentable. What’s on the outside should reflect what’s going on inside, so to speak. I mean, what a waste of a brilliant mind such as mine to live in a body akin to a starving, filthy rat scurrying about in the sewers?”

“So you are basically telling me you did this for yourself,” Selina said resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Edward’s narcissistic ramblings. “Are you sure you didn’t do this for any other reason?”

“Like what?” Edward asked, clearly puzzled by such a question.

“Hmm...well, let me ask this: Has Y/N seen your ‘transformed’ self?”

Selina noted how Edward’s blue eyes lit up upon hearing Y/N’s name, and suddenly, his obnoxious personality changed to a much more amiable one.

“She likes it,” Edward said with a bright smile. “Her compliments about my appearance go hand in hand with her compliments about my genius. It’s wonderful having someone around who actually appreciates my existence.”

“I take it that her approval means a lot to you then?”

“Of course! Considering she’s the only person who treats me with respect, I think she deserves the privilege of having me listen to, accept, and sometimes take her advice.”

Selina smirked as she had received the answer to her question.

“Well then, I must be going, Eddie,” she said as she turned to leave. “I’ll get you what you requested in no time.”

“Yes, please do,” Edward said sternly, going back to his arrogant tone. “My request should be of the utmost importance compared to whoever else you’re working with at the moment.”

“Yes, yes, Eddie, of course. Bye!”

#edward nigma #riddler #riddler x reader #edward nigma x reader #riddler x female reader #edward nigma x female reader #the riddler #edward nygma #arkham riddler #arkham knight riddler

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gazedstarfish · 3 years

Text

Silence at the other side- CassiexSid

Before you get to the reading (if there’s even anyone who will read it), I’ve got a few disclaimers. My native language is not English, I’m a student of the English language and still have serious difficulties with creative writing. If the cringe scale of this fanfic hits the gates of heaven, or you find so many misspelt words, I sincerely apologize. It’s also been a long time since I’ve written fanfiction. My uni’s work is killing me and I need to practice writing.

I adore Cassie and imagined Sid and Cassie having a short, angsty phone conversation after the cancelled date. Once again, I love Cassie and wanted to delve into her insecurities a little further (I am an insecure person). I'll likely write a sequel, but for now, it's just a prompt. I took the prompt idea "I never stood a chance, did I?" from a list on Wattpad, but unfortunately, I can’t trace the photo back to its author.

I hope you’ll enjoy it even though it’s short and shitty and you won’t hate me.

Cassie's tired eyes were fixed on her bedroom door, on every tiny nick that highlighted the wooden grain. Her legs felt too numb to hold the already low weight of her body if she managed to stand up to leave her bedroom after hours of lying in bed, her body snuggled up in a fragile and secure position. She didn't want to go out anyway, so why bother? For Cassie, an outside world was created for girls like Michelle, the adorably faultless beauty queens who didn't have to beg for someone who can love them for who they are. She pictured herself in Michelle's world, where everybody has great friends and someone to love them. However, the beauty queen has proven to be everything that she presumed: a shattered, flawed mess. She clenched her eyes shut to keep the tears from streaming down her swollen cheeks. A tired and heavy feeling escaped her tired body, triggering a stream of pain-filled tears. Fighting was pointless since her room was empty and she could express her anguish without being judged.

A small buzzing noise emerged from her nightstand. Cassie reached for her phone, caressing the small yellow stars she used to decorate it in her happier moment. The light-up screen illuminated her face and announced a new message. The name alone on the screen could brighten her existence, but at this moment it produced a stinging feeling alongside an ache in her throat.

Sid: Cass, I want to talk to you

Delete. And just like that, the message was gone and out of her universe. The phone buzzed again.

Sid: Cassie, please!

She wanted to convince herself so desperately that she didn’t need his presence. Sid made it clear he didn’t want to spend a minute with her, but the worst of all was he gave her hope to carry on and wish for brighter days. Brighter days that included him and his clumsy conversations and shy sloppy kisses.

Cassie: Leave me alone

A response came almost immediately and she wondered if he is the same position as her: sitting on his bed, sobbing and holding onto his phone for dear life.

Sid: I’m sorry I hurt you just tell me what I did please

All the things unsaid wanted to be heard so loudly with that message that she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. Although her inner voice was loud, the desire to yell faded quickly. Cassie could shout at Sid, banish him to hell, or start crying all again, but then all the things she loved about him would hit her like a ton of bricks, throwing her back into the vortex of remorse.

Cassie: I never stood a chance, did I?

The sound of her phone ringing filled the room, Sid. Cassie waited till the ringing faded always, but the screen of the phone lit up almost immediately followed by her ringtone. She carefully pressed the green button, ready to end this charade once for all, but before she managed to utter a syllable, Sid already started ramble.

„What do you mean you never stood a chance? I honestly don’t understand, what’s the ma—„

„You well damn know what's going on, Sid!" She couldn't keep her voice from rising; she needed to confront all she was feeling and just how much he has hurt her to heal her system. „I asked you to go out with me, and you accepted! You said yes even though you knew you didn't want to go and wouldn't show up. You were planning, right? I never stood a chance because you didn't give it to me in the first place. It felt so lovely when you agreed, why’d you even say yes?“

Sid was deafeningly quiet on the other end of the line; all she could hear was his heavy breathing and perhaps the sound of him trying to come up with a response, but not a word made it through the phone.

"I love you," she said so quickly that she didn't realize what she had spoken at first. Her fingers struggled to maintain the phone next to her ear as the sobs shuddered her entire body. „I love you and you don’t love me back because I don’t stand a chance against Michelle“.

Cassie heard enough of Sid’s silence. With one click, she hung up the phone and tossed it at a pile of clothes in the corner of her bedroom. She couldn’t decide what hurt her more, Sid’s lack of words or that if she waited for the response, he would agree with her; she’s not Michelle and never stood a chance.

#skins #skins uk #cassie ainsworth #sid jenkins #cassie and sid #cassiexsid #skins fanfiction

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runadamsrun · 2 years

Text

Sigh.

I’m sorry.

Ah, but sorry about that. Lol. I mean, I’m sorry I started out with an apology. I actually don’t even know why I did, but it just felt... mmm... appropriate I guess? No one will be reading this anyway.

But still, I’m sorry.

Maybe it’s my way of apologizing to some future readers for wasting their time when they’re reading this? It’s just my meaningless rambling, after all.

But why would anyone, from all the myriad of Tumblrs out there, visit this one? And read this post? I don’t know. It’s a waste of your time to read this, whoever you are. Just stop here.

But hahaha. I’m sad! I’m very very sad. Can I call it “depressed”? Sure! I’m very sad and depressed right now, all because someone hasn’t messaged me on Discord all day. Lmao.

How pathetic is that?

I... I told them yesterday I’d be resting all day today, kind of afk, because I’d gotten my COVID booster shot. And that I’d maybe bother them on Discord today. And I mean, I sent them a few messages only to delete them, because they weren’t being responded to. And they felt... small talk-y, pointless.

And I guess it’s true I’ve been Invisible all day. But the entire day, no mention of how I felt came up. Or I guess, anything. At all. A few hours ago, a little before 8, they sent a song. I responded to it, and... that was it. Then I asked what they were doing, and that was also it.

God damn it.

It feels like it’s repeating. It’s happening all over again. And that’s why I’m so depressed right now. And I’m so, so sad. Because I don’t know where I went wrong.

Before it’s even happening, I can see it disappearing, or maybe slowly unraveling, before my eyes. But I don’t know what to do. How do I stop this? How do I fix it?

Because before long, we really will stop talking. And then that’ll be it.

...

Another person gone.

But I hope I’m wrong, because... it wouldn’t disappear just like that right? It can’t. We’re... too alike. That’d just be way too fucking tragic. Haha. That’d just be way too cruel and funny!

But... I can kind of get it.

I kind of know why people commit suicide. Even when everyone else afterwards is like, “But they seemed so happy everyday.” Or, “They were fine just the other day when we talked.” Or, “There wasn’t anything going on, or wrong with their life, for them to do this.”

And I used to think like that too. But I get it now. Sometimes... life just feels so meaningless. Why am I putting in all this effort when it just leads to... nothing? And it’s all so... ephemeral. My favorite word.

Is this nihilism or something? Lol. I’m not being edgy, just saying. But it feels like... this is all a chore. There’s nothing wrong with my life, but... it’s like with Emily. I don’t feel joy or life from our conversations anymore. What’s the point of all this?

It all just feels so fucking pointless. Maybe that’s why I loved HakoMari so much. And why I liked Nanamo Ul Namo so much (lol). Because... I want to matter to someone. I want to find my Maria, and I want to matter.

I’m not doing anything, really. Seriously. Promise. I’m too great, after all. But I’m just wondering. Would anyone notice if I’m gone?

#personal

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madtype · 3 years

Text

Cabaret Club Czar Training - YUKI (Part 3)

in this installment of yuki’s hostess training, she and majima have a conversation about sushi, self-help books, and stew...

highlights: - majima getting a little too sincere and kind for yuki’s comfort - yuki feeling concerned over majima’s unbalanced diet - both of them getting a little more comfortable with each other! very sweet

full transcript under the cut!

---

MAJIMA: Okay, ready for some training?

YUKI: Yes, please!

M: Hey, Yuki-chan. Those battle butterflies finally gone?

Y: Well, it is just you after all, Majima-san.

M: Oh, is that some sass I detect?

M: Alright, let's do this. I'm the customer, you're the hostess. Ready?

Y: Yeah! Of course!

Y: Hello, I'm Yuki! Are you welcome here today?

M: ...We still got a long way to go.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

M: Let's see.

Y: Yes.

M: Kinda cold today, huh?

Y: Y-Yes. That's right. It is cold.

M: ......

Y: ...... (heh...heh)

M: Yuki-chan, I can tell you've been gettin' better with the customers lately, but you're still havin' trouble keepin' conversations rollin'.

Y: I-I'm sorry.

Y: I know I have to say something, but I have no idea what I should talk about.

M: You can talk about anything, even somethin' small. The weather, current events... Keep it casual.

M: Hell, you could even throw out something you've been tryin' to get off your chest.

Y: I-I see. Would that really be casual, though?

M: Anyway. So today, let's try puttin' the burden of conversation on you, Yuki-chan.

M: The best trick to startin' a conversation is to just ask a question. Think of me as a guest, and fire away. Anything.

Y; O-Okay. I understand.

Y: Uh, umm... Majima-san, wh-what kind of sushi do you like?

> I like tamago.

M: I'm all about the tamago.

Y: Haha, Majima-san, your taste in sushi is so childish. You should at least try to pick a fish!

M: Quiet, you. Sushi joints are made and broken by the eggs they serve. Tamago is the key!

Y: Oh, I hear that a lot. Is that true, though?

M: Based on my experience, pretty much, yeah.

Y: Really? I'll check next time I'm out for sushi.

M: Yeah, you do that. But check this out, Yuki-chan. Ya brought a question outta left field, but the conversation went fine, didn't it?

Y: Huh?

M: You ask a question, the other person answers. Easy, yeah?

M: If you're havin' trouble carryin' the conversation, just ask the customer a question and let 'em ramble. It'll turn into a conversation lickety split.

Y: I see... That's a pretty good conversation technique. Memo noted.

> That's too random...

M: Well, that's a little outta left field, ain't it? Customer's gonna wonder if he's in a club or a diner.

Y: Y-You're right.

M: If you feel like talkin' sushi, ya could lead with a question more like, “Have ya eaten already?” It kinda sounds unnatural otherwise, y'know?

Y: Y-Yes... You're right. Oh, I'm terrible at this.

M: (Damn, she took that one hard. Maybe I shoulda just answered the question...)

M: Anyway, all ya gotta do is pay attention to the flow of the conversation and ask questions. That way, it'll flower naturally.

Y: Okay... I'll try harder.

> I like engawa.

M: I'm an engawa guy.

Y: Wow, Majima-san! You like engawa too? What a coincidence! That's my number one favorite!

M: No kidding? You got quite the discriminatin' palate for a young lady, Yuki.

Y: When I was little, I used to eat sushi with my grandpa all the time.

M: You and yer gramps were makin' sushi runs? Is your family loaded or somethin'?

Y: Actually, I heard that a mountain behind my grandparents' house was part of their property.

M: What!? You some kinda lost mountain princess, Yuki-chan!?

Y: Not at all! Nowadays I'm living completely on my own. I can barely afford a cucumber roll.

M: Ah. See how that works? Your question was outta left field, but it kicked off a whole conversation. And I got to know ya a little better in the process.

Y: Huh?

M: You ask a question, the other person answers. Easy, right?

M: If you're havin' problems carrying on a conversation, ask your customer a question and let 'em talk. That'll turn into a conversation pronto.

Y: Oh, I see. There's a technique to conversations. That's really good to know.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y: Let's see... Majima-san, does your wife ever get mad at you because you're in this line of work?

M: Nah, no wife to get mad at me in the first place. I live alone, as a free man.

Y: Really...? I can't imagine how a single guy lives by himself. Majima-san, do you cook at all?

M: Do I look like a chef? I just do whatever.

Y: But, if you're always eating out or eating junk food, you won't have a balanced diet. Would you like me to make you some meat and potatoes stew or something?

> I can make that.

M: You sayin' you cook, Yuki-chan? I don't know, I bet I could do a better job myself...

Y: H-How dare you! I've been practicing really hard to make meat and potatoes stew! That's the only thing I cook!

M: Wait, why do ya only have one dish in yer arsenal?

Y: Because it was in a how-too book for relationships! It said, “The way to a man's heart is through his stomach with meat and potatoes stew!”

M: You actually read books like that, Yuki-chan?

Y: Oooh! Please don't say a word to anyone that I'm reading a self-help book!

M: My lips are sealed.

> That'd be great.

M: Yeah, that sounds tasty. Lookin' forward to it.

Y: O-Okay! Wow, I guess it was true. Men really do have a weakness for meat and potatoes!

M: Say what? You read that in a book or somethin'?

Y: Yes! A relationships how-too book. It said, “Win your man's heart via his stomach with meat and potatoes!”

M: Wait, you actually read books like that, Yuki-chan?

Y: Ahhh! Please don't say a word to anyone that I'm reading a self-help book!

M: My lips are sealed.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

M: I can tell you're gettin' better at this talking thing. You're makin' good progress, Yuki-chan.

Y: Y-You really think so? But, I think it's only because you're you, Majima-san...

M: Whaddaya mean?

Y: Well, it's different when I talk to someone I'm familiar with versus meeting a customer I don't really know.

M: I guess that's true.

> I'll request you then.

M: Then I'll request you as a customer, Yuki-chan.

Y: Huh? What do you mean?

M: Ya carry a conversation just fine when it's me, right? Alls I gotta do then is come in here and request you over and over.

Y: No, I understand that part... But it still doesn't make any sense.

Y: Let me get this straight. Majima-san, you spend your money at this club and then the profits go back to you. Erm... That would be pointless... right?*

M: Hey, I was bein' sarcastic! Ya gotta learn to tell when someone's jokin'.

Y: Oh, you were joking. O-Of course! I'm sorry.

Y: But if you really were my customer all the time, Majima-san, I think I'd enjoy that. Make sure to order a lot of expensive drinks, okay?

M: Heh. Now we're talking. That sounded like a hostess who knows her jam.

> Give it some time.

M: You'll get it down sooner or later. Ya just need a little more experience.

Y: You think so? Experience... I've been longer than any of the other hostesses, though...

M: Oh... Well, everyone gains experience at different speeds! You're just more turtle than hare, is all.

Y: Majima-san... You're not helping me feel better here.

> Imagine they're me.

M: Just think of all the customers as me.

Y: All my customers as you, Majima-san? Hehehe... Hahaha!

M: What's so funny?

Y: I-I'm sorry, I imagined that all of our seats were filled with you, Majima-san. I couldn't help it. Hahaha.

M: You know what I meant! It wasn't a literal suggestion.

Y: Oh, I know. But, thank you. If I try that, I think I will have an easier time handling the customers.

M: That right? Good, good.

Y: A room full of Majima-san customers... Hehehe, I bet that would be a pain!

M: Eh? You say somethin'?

Y: O-Oh, no. Nothing!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

M: Hey, look at the time.

M: Any last questions ya wanna ask me? Forget about the training for a sec. Anything goes.

Y: Hm, let's see. Um, well... Majima-san, what do you think about me?

M: Huh? Whaddya mean?

Y: As an employee of the club... Well, what do you think of me?

> You're cute.

M: Well, I think you're cute.

Y: What? Oh, no, no, that's what I mean. What I meant to ask is, do you think I'm a good employee?

M: Oooh, right, right! Yeah, sure, I can tell that you're really workin' hard.

Y: What kind of response was that? Are you being serious?

M: Uh, 'course I am. I just had to gather my thoughts there.

Y: Huh? You're weird, Majima-san.

> You're workin' hard.

M: You're workin' hard.

Y: You think so? We've gotten some new girls here lately, and I feel like they're working a lot harder than me.

M: Comparin' yourself to others is a losin' proposition. What's important is how hard yer tryin' to be better.

M: Besides, ya ain't great at talking to guys, yet here you are, toughin' it out to overcome your weakness. That's somethin' to be proud of, if ya ask me.

Y: Majima-san... Th-Thank you.

Y: But, Majima-san, it feels really weird when you get all serious and sincere like that. Like, almost creepy.

M: Whaddya mean, creepy!?

Y: Ahaha. But, I'm happy. Really. I'll work much, much harder!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

M: Okay, I think that'll do it.

Y: Th-Thank you for the lesson.

M: Sure thing. Good job.

*Note: Despite localization as “erm,” Yuki actually says “hmm?” and at the end of her sentence says, “hmmm?” Thought it was a cute detail that was worth noting.

#cabaret club czar #yakuza 0 #yuki #goro majima #club sunshine

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alittlebitgoofy · 3 years

Text

it’s cold when we’re apart (boboxx)

me? posting new boboxx angst? shock ikik, it was a small venty drabble that hit around 1.7k and i wanted to post it

ao3 link

“I miss you.”

Three simple words were all it took to break Juice’s weak defenses. She hated to admit defeat but being alone was suffocating. Couples fought, it was normal. But what level was too much? She couldn’t pinpoint how it got like this. One day they were happy, brains fogged buy sweet early love, time passed and the things they looked over became more apparent. Juice’s need for affection and comfort, not liking to be alone or not know what was happening. Combined with Scarlett’s refusal to admit she was wrong or short temper it made for a bad combination.

They worked through it, Juice trying to relax her grip on other people and Scarlett learning to keep their cool. It worked, for a while. But all walls crumbled with time and pressure. Juice hated her natural ability to flirt. She was almost always unaware of how it came off, she just wanted to be nice to people. Scarlett noticed, tensing at the way some people eyed her up. They knew it wasn’t her fault, not something to get angry over. Though the bitter jealousy would only grow if left unchecked. All it took was a girl mistaking Juice for single and flirting, the small girl being kind back and Scarlett was seething. They tried to quell it but only succeeded in making it bubble up more.

Words hurt, especially from someone you loved. People said things they didn’t mean, although Scarlett lashed out too hard to be excused. They knew how to get under Juice’s skin, what to say to rile her up or upset her, and used it all to their advantage. It took only a few seconds for the regret to sink in. But that was too late.

“Get out.” The venom in Juice’s tone made Scarlett flinch. She’d never sounded that angry before. It was unnatural, not the girl she knew. But she had crossed a line, the regret wouldn’t do anything to fix it. She did what she got angry at other people for, she hurt Juice.

“Did I stutter? If you don’t leave I will throw you out. We both know I can lift you.”

“Juice, please. I’m sorry.” it was pointless pleading, knowing Juice wouldn’t care but trying anyway for the hope this could be fixed. Scarlett tried, they meant everything, it was just too late.

“You don’t get to be sorry. Get the fuck out of my house!” The anger was rising, Juice was unrelenting, intensely glaring in a way that scared Scarlett for being four inches shorter. She looked Scarlett up and down as if they were a hardened criminal who just got caught. It was terrifying to see the lack of any warmth in her eye, only cold, hard anger.

“Juice-”

Before Scarlett could finish, Juice had shoved them out of the door, into the street. She slammed the door not waiting for any more words.

They’d fucked up. Bad.

Scarlett refused to believe they’d ever be that person, sending an emotionally charged voicemail begging for some kind of response. Juice hadn’t spoken a word in the two weeks since their argument and every second without her hurt, the memory of hurting her still sinking into their flesh, burning at the thought of how bad they messed up.

It was bad judgment to text her in the first place, even more so to say they missed her and send a rambling, melancholic voicemail that would only complicate things further. They showed up as read. Juice had seen it, she’d heard it and yet didn’t have a response. It’d been over half an hour since it showed up as read and Scarlett felt the sadness and resignation sink ever deeper.

A knock brought them out of the spiral, although the idea of having to face someone made their head spin with anxieties. They couldn’t quite cope with other people, not while like this. It was too much vulnerability that they didn’t want to be accountable for. So, just don’t answer it. But it wasn’t that simple. A distraction, however brief, was craved, so Scarlett begrudgingly answered it, not knowing what to expect, shocked at who it was.

“You miss me.” Although her tone was distant, Scarlett saw the familiar softness in Juice’s eyes as they opened the door to see her meek expression. It said more than she was able to. Upon closer inspection, her soft brown eyes were dark with a conflicted sadness, mixed with a loving gaze she couldn’t help whenever Scarlett was around.

“I’m so sorry,” Scarlett whispered brokenly. There was no point holding up any walls, the vulnerability wasn’t always a bad thing and Juice deserved to know how they felt. Scarlett kept their eyes down, not wanting to know how she was reacting to it all.

“I know.” Juice pulled Scarlett into a tight hug, stepping inside the house, nudging the door behind her shut. She felt the taller one tense in her arms before relaxing and pulling her tighter. It all hit after that, all the pent up feelings and sadness at not having each other, the prior rage almost all melted away with the warmth that Scarlett brought. Almost.

“This doesn’t make up for what you said.” Juice broke the moment, not sure how much she should let her guard down. She had every right to be so defensive and yet it still hurt. Scarlett knew better than to argue, their anger had settled into self-loathing long ago, all they could do now is agree and regret everything ever more.

“I know.” Despite their different perspectives, Scarlett mirroring her words made Juice’s heart clench. They weren’t at all distant, instead, soft and loving but weakened by regret and sorrow.

Eventually, the long hug ended, neither quite knowing what to do until Scarlett led Juice to the couch, prompting her to put something on so they could spend time together without thinking too hard about it. The air was still tense but Juice appreciated the effort.

“What about that show you kept asking me to watch?” Scarlett felt their heart warm as Juice’s eyes lit up, cutting through the tension with her excitement. She was adorable when talking about something she liked and this was no exception. She rambled on about how much Scarlett would like the show and how good it was. The glee radiating from her made Scarlett’s face unconsciously break from a frown to a loving smile. Juice paused for a second, realising how much she missed the stupid grin Scarlett would give her if she got excited enough about something, never interrupting her, just appreciating her.

Juice seemed a lot more relaxed as the show started, eventually shuffling closer to Scarlett, curling into their side as they watched attentively. Juice commentating on everything in a way that would be annoying if anyone else did it, but she made it all the more entertaining with her thoughts.

“You know, she’s like you, all angry but just soft for one blonde girl,” Juice laughed, gesturing to the screen. Scarlett shot her a confused look which only made her giggle more.

“Juicy, I see where you’re going but I am not a catgirl.” Juice pouted, Scarlett holding back a laugh at her behaviour. The way they fell back into the soft loving ways made everything feel better. Juice’s laughs were the last thing needed to patch up their heart and they planned on keeping her happy for a lot longer.

“Wait! She’s gay for the blonde one? Who let this mentally unstable cat drive a tank anyway?” Scarlett watched on incredulously, Juice only laughing at her questions. She was understanding why Juice liked the show so much now, it was cute, even if she compared them to the feral catgirl. It wasn’t that inaccurate although they wouldn’t admit that.

More episodes played as Juice’s commentary died down, she stayed curled into Scarlett’s side, occasional comments muttered into their shoulder as her head nestled into it. She was half asleep when Scarlett shook her, nudging her towards the bedroom.

“Do you want to stay the night?” Juice gave a soft hum in response, curling closer into the enby. Scarlett laughed softly, picking her up to place her on the bed, knowing her attempts to walk over would end in her sleepily stumbling, tripping over anything in her path. Juice let out a pleased hum when Scarlett threw some old, baggy clothes at her to sleep in. There was something adorable about the way everything they owned was too big on the brunette. Although they weren’t that far apart in height, Juice was tiny and Scarlett preferred baggy clothes. The way the long sleeves of an old band shirt flopped over Juice’s wrists, swallowing most of her body was a sight that Scarlett would treasure.

The pair settled down, at first facing each other but not touching, both scared to make the first move before Juice felt herself succumbing to the fatigue. She shuffled over, wrapping her small arms around Scarlett, nuzzling her head into their shoulder.

“I love you,” Juice stifled a yawn as she spoke, the sentiment from earlier still ringing out in Scarlett’s head, however, the fact that Juice was searching for so much affection raised their spirits. “I love you too.” Scarlett smiled, eyes full of love for the smaller girl. Juice lifted her hand, ruffling the short blonde hair of her partner with a mischievous giggle before cuddling as far into them as she could. Not everything was alright or resolved, both knew that. The morning would come and Scarlett would try their best to show Juice their love, peppering her with kisses as she woke up, cooking her breakfast, and showering her with enough affection to make her melt. The last night went unspoken by them, but both knew there were consequences. Juice had her guard up somewhat, naturally lower around Scarlett although still present. It would take time and effort to repair their relationship but Scarlett tried their best to go above and beyond. It wouldn’t be easy but to see Juice smile lovingly at them again would make it all worth it.

#rpdr fanfiction #boboxx #juice boxx #scarlett bobo #juice x scarlett

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captainchrisfics · 5 years

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‘Always’

About: Chris Evans and his girlfriend break up so he comes crawling back to his friend’s door, only they’re a little more. They have been for a long time, although it takes a fight and a nasty phone call from a scorned ex for them to realize it.

Word Count: 3,638

Warning(s): There’s a makeout in this fic. Nothing I would particularly classify as nsfw, but just a heads up.

Requested By: Anonymous! Thanks for sending this in, I’m always happy to write reqs. Another thanks for being patient with me. x

My phone rang.

I was done for the day, just for the record. My bra was off, my feet were up, my wine was in reach, and my favorite trashy reality t.v. show was on.

Then my phone flashed, turning that dark grey color it does when there isn’t a contact picture. But instead of an unfamiliar number, there was a contact name. Chris’s Gf.

Now, I know it was rude not to save her contact with her name. Granted I couldn’t even be bothered to type out ‘girlfriend,’ almost as if she was dispensable or something. But, in my defense, I genuinely couldn’t remember what it was when Chris made a group chat to plan an introduction dinner with all of his friends from back home. You’d think it’s a very significant thing, all the girls he brought to Boston at one point or another did, but anyone who knew Chris also knew he tended to jump the gun.

She’d managed to stick around for a few months though, so I really should’ve learned her name. Thankfully, when my thumb made contact with the green circle, there wasn’t a need for pleasantries since she was already screaming at me.

“It’s all your fucking fault, you know,” she spit into the speaker. Her audio was kind of grainy, like she was talking through her car’s bluetooth. Plus, I could barely hear her over the blaring horns and sirens of Boston’s all too familiar traffic. I could imagine her manicured claws wrapping so tight around her steering wheel that her knuckles turned white as she snarled, “Chris doesn’t have any more fucking time for anyone else because he’s too busy fucking you.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” I started, buying time for my brain to catch up to her mouth’s pace. “We never-”

“Oh, don’t fuck with me,” she cut me off, laughing cynically. “I know about you two, he told me months ago. Told me you were only friends now though, so I’m not sure what to believe at this point.”

“But we never did anything since he met you!” I defended, my voice coming out more loud and shrill than I’d intended. I sighed in an attempt to compose myself. “We are friends,” I stressed, calmer now. I started pacing nervously as I pinched between my eyes.

“Oh,” she said dramatically between gritted teeth. “That’s where you’re wrong, with this whole innocent little ‘friends’ thing.”

And, while I’m sure she’d felt like I was finally trapped in the corner, right where she wanted me, that’s exactly where she’d lost me. Because the whole ‘friends’ thing was exactly that to me, innocent. Platonic. Sure, I enjoyed the kind of relationship Chris and I had when we were both single and looking to have a little fun, but we also respected our boundaries and other partners enough to call it quits. Never had either of us crossed that line.

“Whatever you want to call it. It’s not that to Chris at least,” she continued to seethe, “it’s why he can’t have a real relationship. I’m sure it’s true for you too, with your boyfriends. It ended because he’s got one foot in the door and the other out of it. You’re always standing in the way, it’s your fault.”

Leave it to this girl I barely know, in the loosest sense of the term, to read me like an open book, like she knew everything between my covers. Things I hadn’t even written yet.

“I…” I stumbled over explaining myself. “I-it isn’t like that,” my shaky voice stuttered, not even able to convince myself. It isn’t like she knows me or my relationship with Chris. It isn’t like he cheated on her. It isn’t like I’ve ever tried to hold him back in any relationship, let alone theirs.

But it isn’t like that was what she was accusing us of. It isn’t like my doorbell didn’t ring, a heavy, steady knock reverberating. It isn’t like there wasn’t a deep voice, one as familiar as my heartbeat and scratchy from being strained in a yelling match, asking to come in. It isn’t like I couldn’t imagine the deep blue of his bedroom eyes, twinkling between these sultry dark lashes, like that thought didn’t spark an insatiable fire in my stomach that snatched every bit of air in my chest. It isn’t like either of us were surprised.

“Bet that’s him now,” she hissed, as if she hadn’t struck me already. Hadn’t poisoned my thoughts, making me feel simultaneously sick to my stomach. “You two deserve each other.” She scoffed before hanging up.

“I’m sorry,” I confessed to my home screen, half-hoping she’d hear it anyway. Probably to relieve my own guilt, this terrible feeling completely repressing my lungs. So that was why I couldn’t breathe.

She planted this seed, this terrible, rotten, famine-inducing sort of seed, in the bottom of my stomach. It latched onto me, expanding roots I’d trip over and growing until its branches coiled around my heart and constricted my lungs.

Then Chris rang my doorbell again, calling out my name. Rambling, probably under the impression that he was the only one who could hear anyway. Saying that he’s sorry he didn’t call first, but he was stressed. He had this tension he needed me to relieve, and that made for some of the best nights.

I tried to talk, but it came out as a cough.

“We…” Chris trailed off. I could almost see him, kicking at my stoop with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Hands I wanted tangled in my hair, roaming along every one of my body’s curves. Biting his chapped lips anxiously. Lips I wanted on mine, teeth I wanted leaving marks on my neck for the next few days.

“We broke up,” he said, no sign of anything other than frustration. Frustration I wanted him to take out on me, so desperately, burying me between my mattress’s springs.

I opened the door, although I wasn’t sure if I was ready to let him in. Still grappling with the shell-shock from his ex’s phone call, I smiled. “I had a feeling,” I told Chris, but I wasn’t sure he took it how I meant it.

Just by the way the corner of his lips turned up in a smirk, he had me. He leaned against my door’s frame as a chuckle reverberated from deep in his chest, right where I felt that glint in his eye tugging at my lust. “She called you?” Chris asked incredulously, thick eyebrows taking off as he stared at the phone in my hand. “Fuck, I knew she was crazy, but…” he trailed off, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. He shrugged and said, “Saves me the breath, I guess.”

And still, Chris took more from me.

His lips were on mine in moments, kissing me with such a force that the two of us stumbled into my living room. Chris kicked the door closed behind him and I pushed him back into it, grabbing his coat’s lapels to slow our velocity. He tore off the layer and his t-shirt so I crash-landed into him anyway.

My fingers crawled up every bump and curve of his torso, inching excruciatingly slowly over the soft, bare skin I’d missed. I relished in every goosebump my scratching nail elicited from his porcelain chest. When my hands finally reached his neck, I wrapped my arms around Chris and pulled him impossibly closer. I wasn’t about to let him go again any time soon.

Chris groaned with satisfaction against my bottom lip, tugging the sensitive skin between his teeth. His hands found my ass, hesitating on the curve like he was properly appreciating it before slipping down to the bottom of my thighs, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his waist.

I missed this, if I’m honest. The way our chests rose and fell in complete sync with one another, hands roaming familiar territory, every part of each other dancing together as if we’d rehearsed countless times before. By this point, I suppose we had.

Chris carried me to the couch and sat so I was straddling him. Our hips began digging into one another, frantically trying to find the friction we knew all too well between our clothing. His hands slipped up the hem of my shirt and suddenly I became too aware of how little was separating our bare chests, just this one piece of fabric. One of Chris’s old shirts, in fact. The reality of how close we were to being so close again, only to have hundreds of miles and surely more pointless commitments to other people keeping us apart, it was painful.

He continued to kiss me, hungry and longing as if he’d been deprived, as his cold fingertips teasingly traced underneath my chest. So close, again. But, as much as the passion pooled in the pit of my stomach, there was a horrible, tugging guilt that started to drain me.

“Chris,” I whined, only the word came out more like a breathy moan as I tore my lips from his, like pulling two magnets apart.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, pressing his lips along my jaw and down my neck. Instinctively, I craned so he could have better access and I almost didn’t want to say anything at all as badly as I needed to keep grinding my hips against his. Chris’s hands tightened on my hips, urging me even more.

It would’ve been so much easier to drown myself in Chris. To let his scent, the expensive vanilla cologne and crisp mountain air and something that smelled indistinguishably from what my home, replace all of the air in my lungs. To let the sensations surround me, his beard scratching my collarbone and his calloused fingertips digging into my hip bones, so hard I hoped I’d have bruises of his fingerprints in the morning.

Like jumping into a frozen lake, he shocked every one of my nerves awake. I gasped, taking in all the air I could as if I’d just broken the water’s surface after a deep dive.

“Chris,” I repeated, sterner this time. He retracted, resting his hands on the small of my back while giving me this awful look. These anticipating, wide puppy-dog eyes with his swollen lips stuck in a pout and his eyebrows hanging low. Chris was the poster boy of concern. I almost wanted to tell him to forget it, that we could keep going, but I had a feeling even he couldn’t satisfy the aching in my chest. I needed something else.

“She was right, Chris,” I admitted so quietly that, if we weren’t close enough for each of our breaths to be borrowed, I think he might not have heard me. My forehead met his shoulder and I watched his chest deflate with a sigh.

“She doesn’t know shit about how I feel,” he growled. His arms tensed around me and I knew I’d brought back the emotions he was trying to leave at my front door. I realized he’d had a similar conversation to the one I did, and he knew it too. In a moment of steely anger, he felt completely foreign to me.

Then Chris’s shoulders sagged as his grip on me softened and he reached for me, resting a heavy hand on my cheek. Chris lifted my head so I’d looked at him. Him and his drooping eyebrows, chiseled frown lines, and those blue eyes, gentle as a lake in the morning and just as glassy.

“She doesn’t know shit about us,” Chris insisted, still bitter, but with all of the conviction he could muster.

“It doesn’t matter, she’s still right. We can’t keep doing this,” I bit back, matching his sincerity’s strength. “Every other guy I’ve ever been with,” I tried to confess, but then I saw my reflection in his crystal-clear eyes. I realized exactly what I was about to do, the can of worms I’d nearly opened, and I couldn’t.

I turned from Chris, partly so I didn’t have to look at him, but mostly so I didn’t have to watch him looking at me. His hand fell from my cheek and hit his thigh with a defeated thud. My eyes darted to the ceiling, blinking back tears. My chest shook as I tried to suck the words on the tip of my tongue back down with every breath.

“They left you wanting more?” Chris said, sucking on his teeth. “Left you wanting someone else specifically?” he laughed dryly. The corner of his mouth tugged up in a smirk, but there was nothing light about the look in his eye, like someone else was pulling the strings.

I jumped from his lap, like he’d just passed an electric shock through me, and pulled my shirt back down. “No,” I objected. With the way Chris looked at me, leaned back casually and watching me with his eyebrows playfully raised as I paced with crossed arms and a furiously shaking head, I had a feeling I was only trying to convince myself.

“She told me the same thing,” he began tentatively. “That I’m not ‘emotionally committed to her’ as if that makes any sense,” Chris paused to roll his eyes. “And then once she left me, I was driving over. I didn’t even feel sad about the breakup, I just wanted to be with you,” he elaborated.

Chris stood and took a couple of his long strides toward me. He gripped my shoulders, just enough to stop the pacing path of the wind-up toy I’d become before I wore a hole through my carpet. “And then I realized what she meant,” Chris admitted, buying time before he finished with a deep breath. He pulled me close to his chest. “I realized that I was waiting for this, to be with you. I always do.”

“No,” I repeated with more fervor, shaking myself from his embrace.

“No?” Chris echoed incredulously. His eyebrows knitted together as he crossed his arms, taken aback by my objection.

“No!” I shouted, running my anxious hands through my hair as I continued to pace on the opposite side of the coffee table. Out of his arm’s reach. “This isn’t what this is. We’re friends, Chris. This isn’t how friends work,” I spoke in a quick staccato.

“We aren’t just friends. It’s how we can work,” he pleaded his case, trying to emphasize his point with wildly flailing hands. “You said it yourself, she was right.”

“And you said she didn’t know anything,” I shot back in a low tone with narrowed eyes. My steps halted as my eyes pierced daggers into Chris. He was still flushed from earlier, hair disheveled wildly from my hands raking through the dark locks as well as his own nervous ones now, but he still made a decent target.

“And, if we aren’t friends, what am I to you then, Evans? A booty call, maybe? A rebound? Really, which is it? Because, as much as you’ve ‘always’ wanted to be with me, you always seem to get bored and run back to L.A. to find someone else!”

His whole being, from his eyebrows to his shoulders to his spirit, sank. My words weighed heavy on him and, as good as it felt in the moment to pin all of my anger and confusion onto Chris, it wasn’t worth the way he’d looked at me. Like he was so insulted I would even imagine that he thought so little of me.

“That isn’t fair. You know that’s not what I meant,” he faltered. His mouth opened and closed, a total fish out of the water. This wasn’t in our element, Chris never came here for a fight. He came for love, or at least the closest thing he could get. Actually, I gave him all the love I had. Always. But that was the problem, that I never seemed to get any in return.

Again, I stopped to scrutinize Chris. I’m not sure what I was hoping to find between his naked chest heaving with ragged breaths and those soul-baring eyes that conveyed nothing less than heartbreak. “You are so much more to me,” he professed, his voice level and imploring me to believe him. “I want us to be so much more.”

I collapsed onto the couch, knees weakened with a declaration of adoration I’d been dreaming about for the longest time and a fraction of my emotional exhaustion taking a physical toll. I wrung my hands in my lap, choosing to watch my fingers slide in and out of my other hand’s gaps instead of looking Chris in the eye.

My couch creaked with a sudden added weight as one massive, calloused hand wrapped itself around both of my own. “Want a drink?” Chris asked in a refreshing change of pace. His eyes darted to my nearly-empty glass of rosé from earlier and the bottle accompanying it.

Instead of giving him the satisfaction of serving me, I pulled my hands from his and refilled my own glass. I passed it to Chris before taking the whole bottle into my lap. We both took long sips, trying to force each other to break the thick silence between us.

“We’re supposed to be friends,” I snapped first, hating how my voice broke.

Chris choked on his wine as he laughed. “Friends who fuck each other senseless sometimes?” he inquired, raising a thick eyebrow. “We’ve been more than that whether or not you want to realize it.”

“But friends,” I insisted, unwavering. “That’s the only solace I’ve had, seeing you with other girls, knowing that we had boundaries. That we aren’t supposed to have feelings like this so I could ignore them and assume it wasn’t mutual. You aren’t supposed to make me wait for you, over and over again, and then claim to have wanted me this whole time.”

Chris allowed me to ramble without interruption. Instead of waiting to talk, he only listened. With one arm wrapped around my shoulder and the other hand tight around his glass’s stem, he allowed me to get it all out.

“You could’ve just had me, Chris,” I raised my voice, hating how defeated the crack in my voice sounded. It was shrill and as removed from myself I ever felt, like the words were coming out of someone else’s mouth. “So I don’t see why you expect me to believe you ever really wanted me in the first place.” I turned into Chris’s side, burying my face in his shoulder in an attempt to seek some comfort. As much as I hated him in that moment, Chris always seemed to be my soft place to land.

“I know that now,” he said in a breathy sigh. “I’m sorry, darling, I had no clue you felt like that,” Chris said, words laced with a saccharine honesty that begged me to believe him. Then his chest rumbled with a reverberating, cynical laugh as he added, “If it’s any consolation, I had no clue I felt like this either.”

He’d caught my attention. I tipped my chin up to rest on his shoulder, looking at Chris with a new clarity. He was just as confused as I was, drowning and tumbling in an unexpected wave of new emotions.

“Honest, I didn’t… I don’t know if this makes any sense,” Chris stuttered, shaking his head. “But it didn’t click until I was driving over here. I realized I was doing exactly what she accused me of, always running to you. Comparing her to you. Wanting every girl to be you.”

Then he saw right through me with those eyes, as clear as a crystal ball I could nearly see our future in- or, at least, the one Chris envisioned. He’d pinned his heart right onto his sleeve. “You don’t know how fucking stupid I feel,” he said with a gritty laugh, “for wasting so much of the time we could’ve been spending together.”

He reached out and tucked a lock of loose hair behind my ear, palm hovering over my cheek before deciding it was a safe place to rest. His thumb stretched across the soft skin, wiping a tear I hadn’t realized slipped out. “Darling,” he sighed with a new tenderness, “I don’t want to waste any more of it watching you cry. I want to be with you, always, as long as you’ll have me.”

I laughed and it felt good, like it lifted some of the heaviness from my chest. My hand found the crook of his neck. I could just barely feel his pulse beating hard underneath the soft, warm skin. I looked at him through long lashes as I realized the utter beauty of this man sitting before me, inside and out. I thought I knew him before, every corner and crevice, but Chris was bearing a new part of his soul to me. “Me too,” I mumbled.

So painfully slowly, Chris began to lean in, like he was giving me one last chance to back out. Like I hadn’t given all of myself to him, in every way possible, a long time ago.

When his lips met mine, just like they had so many times before, something was inexplicably new. Different from the desperation usually lacing our love and the bittersweet excitement of knowing it could end at any moment. This was patient, this was Chris telling me he’d wait as long as he had to for another kiss like this. This was him promising himself to me and me alone, pressing the vow from his lips to mine. This was grateful and accepting, giving and vulnerable in a way that we’d never been before. A way I hoped we’d always be.

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madeintimeland · 3 years

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im oversharing this got long sorry. just reminscing on shit ive thought about a million times over again

theres so much art i want to create and so little motivation. i should start smoking weed again bc every time im high i get my best ideas or at least like, it takes away the layer of film over my brain that stops me from being able to come up with creative ideas, but also im scared its going to send me into mental hell again. like i need to be in a perfect state for it lest i fear im going to invoke my months long existential crisis again and i Cannot be doing that shit rn. but also i wonder if its going to be worth it anyways if i can create something to leave on this earth again. like ive been so bad at creativity lately like i want to draw and produce things and im bubbling over with energy and i feel the ideas fermenting in the deep recesses of my brain like theyre nestled into the grooves and folds but i cant access them yet. and i know i can if im stoned. i might turn into a hermit hunched over my tablet all hours of the day just making shit tbh. i absorb so much of the things around me and i know if i try to make something now its going to basically be direct copies of the things i saw but if im high im sure i can actually create something new and beautiful. im scared of being intoxicated again but i was scared to drink again too and i got drunk and proceeded to love it and want to drink every single day because surprise surprise i have alcoholism coded into my dna and consequentially have an addictive personality in general. which is why i felt like my life was useless without weed. all up until i was finally able to get my hands on a stash that would let me smoke whenever i want versus when i would get a small amount every couple of months and completely and utterly fail at ratioing it out and binge it all and then have ridiculously introspective trips where id start to go a little crazy at the end (i have a distinct memory of looking at a meme that had a woman on it and thinking ‘jesus christ... what the fuck is that’ and then spiraled into thinking about how life is pointless but i didnt have enough weed to continue with that train of thought and if i did i may have had my crisis a lot earlier, it was just inevitable) i just felt like being high was the only time i could actually get in touch with my inner self again. like i used to before the thick clouds of depression and psychosis settled in. but then i finally was able to get high for longer than short bursts of time and it all came to a head where my brain broke and i have existential terror now that i feel im going to not be able to deal with confronting again. but every time i say that it never ends up staying permanently, it comes in waves, it all comes in waves. back and forth. i feel beauty in life and then i feel fear. i feel like its all worth it and then i cant stop thinking about the inevitable heat death of the universe and the pointlessness of it all. and then i get a hug or listen to a really good song and i feel like its worth it again. i wonder if this is just a period in my life im not a total stoner or if its actually permanent. anyways point is i want to make so much stuff that my hands ache and my brain rots when i think about how many things inspire me. thats why my aesthetic tag is #inspiration, its been like that for many years now, its stuff that inspires me. but at what point am i going to turn that inspiration into reality? im bad at initiative. my initiative is going to be when i pick up the pot again because im too lethargic and procrastinatey to create the things i want any other time. but when will that be? i cant see a therapist or anything rn and working it out on my own has been mildly successful, not bad, im not spending every single day in terror like i was at this point last year. it started all going away around august after starting in march. march 30th in fact. from then on its been a constant battle with dissociation. funny because just earlier in march was some of the best experiences of my life. i think if lockdown never happened this never would have happened either but at the same time im left wondering how anybody can go through their life without wondering about the meaning of it all and coming out the other side with purpose and resolve. mine was to enjoy myself and find as much beauty and love in life as i can before i die and enhance the lives of the people around me while i can because i feel too small to do anything on a grander scale. and im fine with that, for the most part, but i still get attacked by these waves of thought where i wonder what the purpose of reality is . i always have to smack myself and remind myself no dumbass you already went over this a million times, just enjoy yousrelf while youre here. but when im high its a million times worse cuz the only time i can get my mind off it is when im replacing it with horny thoughts and thats not the only thing i wanna do when im high ofc i want to experience and create and listen to music. but i mean i havent smoked since june. i think the 15th ? i could go back and read my journals to tell exactly when it was but yeah its been almost a year now and i feel like i might have it in me again. i used to love getting high and working on shit so much. some of my best works and most creative projects and honestly just most enjoyable periods of my life were when i was high. going back to what i was saying about early march 2020 being the best time of my life, idk what it was about me but i was just having a grand old time experiencing absolute beauty playing ark with my friends, feeling so creative and developing new ideas and experiences, and using the freedom and motivation i felt ingame to also want to explore the world irl. i seriously was close to actually finally reading my survival manual and start camping and shit and i wanted to visit my relatives in their hella secluded farmhouse in the middle of fuck nowhere kansas, cuz i did visit there during that time period and i loved it to death, i felt so free. two different relatives actually and they both had that same aesthetic about them. of course they were horribly racist but i mean, thats rural kansas for you. i just wanted to camp in their woods. its funny because that month was simultaneously the best and worst of my life. all because of weed! if i never started smoking or rather never found a reliable source at that point in my life i wonder how i wouldve turned out? id like to chalk this up to fate that im like this, maybe its for the best, maybe smoking again wont help me but maybe it will. i have a way to ease myself back into it i just need that leap of faith and bravery like i felt when i was drinking again. its funny because i used to be such a fucking druggie and i wanted to get high all the time and then after my existential crisis that all just. stopped. i feell ike everyone i know is sick of me talking about it but it really fundamentally changed me on the inside even if it doesnt seem like it much on the outside so i feel its right of me to talk about it sometimes. it makes me feel better at least. like this is jsut a thing t hat happened, not a fated break from the universe i cant come back from yknow? i dunno. ive rambled on way too fucking long and idk if anyones gonna read this. tldr i want to draw and create so many things and i have too many ideas to deal with but i only feel ill be able to unlock my creativity and motivation if im high but due to bad past experiences im terrified to get high again. i mean ive done and made some pretty cool stuff since then but the motivation and ideas are much fewer and far between compared to the absolute deluge i get when im stoned , whether any of my ideas are actually any good or if they were just high ramblings is up to debate but i think it gave me a really good way of looking at things and i made some pretty cool stuff and i miss it a lot but i dont know if going back to it is going to be a mistake or not and im not brave enough to find out if itll hurt me again or if im ready. yyyyaaaayyyyy hahahaha ✌

#this is literally just all about drugs and dissociation

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the-terror-of-death · 3 years

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I’m Back.

// Hey, it’s been awhile. Honestly I’m not really sure how to start this off. I’m gonna go over the basics for anyone that cares, and then probably ramble off into a read more on a more personal note. That being said, it feels really good to be back on here after so long. I doubt anyone’s really active anymore, but for anyone that is, you’re a trooper for reading through this. The short answer is yes, I’m coming back. It took me some time to sort out my thoughts and feelings, but ultimately, I decided I can’t just leave things the way they are. This blog’s too important to me to just let it die the way it is. I’m not making any promises that I’ll be super active or anything, but at the very least, I’d like to casually RP and the like on here again. That being said, I’m not entirely sure about the state of DHC at this point in time. I have a few ideas, but for now, I’d like to focus on myself and this blog before I start diving into anything bigger. I realize now that I tend to try and bite off more than I can chew, and I get pissed at myself when I can’t get it all done. Anyway, now that all that is out of the way, there’s some things I need to get off my chest. To most people this won’t make any sense, so you’re free to ignore the emotional mess I’m about to spew below.

The truth is, I just couldn’t stomach logging on here for awhile. Everytime I got on, it reminded me of all the people I miss and the regrets I have. I felt lost, guilty, confused. I didn’t know how to process everything. Then I realized, next year will be this blogs 10th anniversary, and everything started coming back to me. I realized how pissed I’d be at myself if I came on to celebrate, only to realize it was a funeral. I realized how much time I’d wasted making excuses, and how disappointed my younger self would have been to see the state of this blog after throwing my heart into it for so long. I didn’t want that. Even if there’s only one other person active, then atleast I’d kept my promise to myself. That being said..to those who are reading this, and a few people in particular, there’s something I need to say to you, if by chance you all come across this one day. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being so emotionally stubborn. I’m sorry for snapping at the people that were only trying to help. I’m sorry I let my personal issues turn me into someone I’m not. I was so depressed and angry for so god damn long, that I think it started becoming harder and harder to stay me. Idk what you all think of me anymore, or if there’s any semblance of good memories of me left in your minds, but even if there isn’t, I’m grateful to have known you all. I’m grateful for the laughs, for the roleplays, for the stupid jokes. I’m grateful that you all were apart of my life when I was at my lowest, and I’m sorry I didn’t realize how badly my life circumstances and mental illnesses were controlling me sooner.

I think..I’m doing alot better now. I feel better, anyway. This time by myself has made me realize more than ever, that I can’t just keep running away from my problems. I can’t just hide my head and hope these feelings go away, because they won’t. All I can do is try to accept them-- face them. I may not be able to fix everything in my life, but I can grow from it. For so long all I wanted to do was cling onto pointless things or bottle up emotions that only made things worse. I guess maybe I still bottle things up, but my point is, I refuse to let them control me anymore. I want to be able to hold my head high one day when I look back on all these years of being Haseo. Whenever this ends, whenever it may be, I wanna know that I tried my best to grow into the person I wanna be, not stagnating in my own regrets. I refuse to let it end like that. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize it. So..with that being said. Let’s do this one last time, the right way.

..and if any of you wanna join me-

“..I’m right here.”

#ooc;

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he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog · 4 years

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Wild geese - Chapter 2/18

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: M

Word count: ~2000 words

Story summary: When Nakyum enters an arranged marriage with Lord Seungho, he does expect to find himself in a situation where he does, fighting for his life. ***An arranged marriage AU, set in the Joseon period like the canon.

Warnings: This story contains graphic depictions of violence. These scenes are not terribly gory, excessive, pointless, and violence is not glorified in anyway. I will not give warnings with specific chapters as not to spoil the plot.

Read below or in AO3.

***

After the ceremony, Nakyum stands beside his mother while they wait for the celebratory meal to begin. They are largely left on their own.

There are few guests they know, as most are friends of the Yoon family. It seems too that Seungho is not the only one who doesn’t appreciate his being there.

Nakyum has no misconceptions that his family’s lower social standing might not be known by these people, even if they are from a faraway village. He knows too that old prejudices die hard. He can sense the looks and the whispers, even if the rare individual dares or bothers to approach them.

They do not need to stand alone for too long though, until three young lords come to make their acquaintances with them. They are friends of his husband, he soon learns. Min is the name of one, and Jihwa of another. Too nervous, Nakyum missed the name of the third, much to his shame.

They make polite conversation, inquiring them about the village where they are from. They seem friendly enough, and it comes almost as a relief for Nakyum after the frigid welcome of the man he married.

When Min begins to ramble on the various families in the town, Nakyum’s attention quickly diverts. He observes Seungho across the garden.

Seungho is at the edge of the garden with another younger man, someone who must be close to him, given how they are standing near each other. They are talking quietly. Seungho’s face is serious though. It’s more than that. He looks as if he is angry, as if he is close to losing his temper.

When the man who Nakyum recognizes as Seungho’s father joins them, it seems that Seungho does lose it. He turns to speak to his father, voice just low enough so that Nakyum hears only the tail end of what he said.

“… -ce to make. It should’ve been mine!”

Seungho stalks off, nearly running over a startled servant on his way. His father glances around the garden at their guests, his face dark, before he moves to follow after his son.

When Nakyum turns back to his companions, his eyes briefly meet with Min’s. It is clear to him then that Seungho’s outburst had not gone unmissed by anyone attending. He sets his eyes on the ground, hanging his head down in shame, in embarrassment.

Sungjung soon wraps an arm around him in a comforting gesture. It is Min first to speak to break the silence.

“Our friend has a bit of a temper,” Min says carefully.

“Indeed, Seungho is most hot-headed,” another young lord, Jihwa, says with an air of nonchalance and hesitates for a moment before adding, “It’s not the only way he gets heated.”

Min looks at his friend and exhales a hearty laugh. The joke is lost on Nakyum. He is not left to wonder for long though, as the head of the Yoon family has returned, and he calls out for the meal to begin.

They move to be seated at a large low table together so that they may continue talking. They are served by the young male servant who had met Nakyum earlier upon his arrival. The elder servant had told him that this man, Deokjae, is to be Nakyum’s personal servant.

Nakyum wished to have a good start with him, given that they would have a close relationship. He can’t help but feel though that his hopes may be in vain. The servant has not been outright rude to him in their few interactions, but he has not been kind either.

Sitting down for the meal, the attention of the young lords moves elsewhere, as does his mother’s when an older noble couple comes to discuss with her.

Nakyum is left on his own. He doesn’t mind it.

He startles out of his own thoughts when someone walks up and kneels to sit on the empty space beside him. It’s the young man who he had seen with Seungho earlier. The man glances at him with an apologetic look on his face.

“I’m sorry, I have not come sooner to meet you,” he says, “I’m Seungwon. Seungho, your husband, is my brother. We are all very happy to have you finally join our family.”

The words sting, for Nakyum understands now that it is not quite the truth.

When the servant attending to their table brings food for Seungwon, he begins to eat too.

They make polite conversation over the meal.

Nakyum has not met him before, but he feels a bit more settled upon talking to him. He seems nice. Perhaps Seungho would be nice too when they will finally have the chance to discuss, to get to know each other.

Seungwon calls for Deokjae to bring more of the wine, and he comes to serve him. When Nakyum cautiously, quietly asks for his cup of water to be filled too, his first real request to his servant goes ignored. The man only looks down at him with a sneer.

Turning to walk away, he mutters under his breath, “I’m not sure why I should be serving a commoner.”

Nakyum stares after him in shock, but before he can even think to react, Seungwon has risen to his feet. He is glaring at the servant, clearly enraged by the words he had heard him speak.

“You do not ever speak to him as you did,” Seungho says sharply, “He is now a lord, regardless of who he was before, and you will treat him with respect.”

The servant looks down silently and nods, biting his jaw. Seungwon dismisses him and watches him walk off until he settles down to eat again.

There is a moment of awkward silence between them before they begin to talk again.

***

It's late at night when the celebrations end. Seungho's personal servant, Mr Kim, leads Seungho and Nakyum to their quarters.

The room is illuminated with a dozen or more candles, giving the space a warm glow. There is a mattress with deep red bedding spread out in the middle of the room. A small table has been placed beside it, with a bottle of wine, two cups and a small plate of fruit atop. There are two blush cushions on the floor too.

When Seungho then dismisses his servant, Nakyum is left alone with his husband for the first time. He feels the nerves flutter to life again.

Seungho moves to take one of the cups that is already filled with wine. Nakyum is shy in following his lead, as he takes the other.

Upon Seungho's wordless gesture, they kneel to sit down on the twin cushions beside the table. He then raises the cup closer to his face and says, “To our marriage."

He drinks, and Nakyum drinks too.

Seungho quickly drains all wine from his cup, but he doesn’t pour himself another. He just sits back and watches Nakyum who drinks in small, slow sips.

Nakyum can’t bring himself to meet Seungho’s bold stare, feeling far too self-conscious.

It’s deadly silent between them. The wedding night is commonly the first moment of privacy between the newlyweds. It is when the couple begins to get to know each other. Seungho doesn’t seem interested though, and Nakyum is uncertain how to approach him, how to start a conversation with his new husband.

He glances at Seungho, but he doesn’t have the courage to say anything, even less having seen the dark look on his face now.

After Nakyum finishes his drink too, Seungho looks at him for a moment longer until he says, “Take off your robes.”

“What?” Nakyum asks, alarmed.

“Don’t act so guileless,” Seungho says, his eyes flicked aside and his voice impatient, "You know what comes next.”

Nakyum does know. He just didn’t expect it, as it is not – needed. There are some freedoms, especially in these modern times, where a newlywed couple could take time to develop a relationship before deepening it. Seungho and Nakyum could take time too. There is no rush for heirs, especially as their relations would produce none.

Seungho stands up and begins to remove his clothes, his back turned towards Nakyum.

Nakyum is too stunned by Seungho's plans for their first night together, and yet, he cannot look away.

It is a vague observation, clouded by the storm of thoughts and feelings inside, how very attractive his husband is. It has his heart beating harder, faster in his chest. It feels odd, unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.

Having removed his robes, Seungho turns back. His eyes flit down the formal robes that Nakyum is still wearing. He breathes out an annoyed huff and kneels in front of him.

He puts his hand to the fastenings of Nakyum's robe, his eyes cast down at the workings of his fingers.

“Come on, husband,” he says, his voice deep, demanding, tempting, "You must know.”

Nakyum is overwhelmed to have his husband so close. He acts more on instinct than anything else, as his eyes trail down to Seungho's bare chest. He lifts a trembling hand and places it on the rounded shoulder. The muscles bunch and shift under the smooth skin, as Seungho moves.

It is only when Nakyum feels the light touch ghost over his abdomen that he realizes Seungho has managed to disrobe him almost fully.

Seungho moves closer. He brings his face to the curve of Nakyum's neck. A nose nudges lightly at the column of the throat before the mouth latches onto it. Seungho kisses, suckles, bites onto his neck at such skill that Nakyum can only close his eyes and tip his head back.

Too soon, too easily does he become pliable at this man’s hands. He allows himself to be guided so that he is lying down on the mattress, with Seungho half on top of him.

It is then that his husband pulls back to look at Nakyum.

His eyes are drawn down on the neck, on the dainty stone of an amulet on a fine golden chain. He touches it briefly before he drags his hand further down the torso.

He leans over to kiss him, his lips on Nakyum's.

It's wet, warm and so seductive how Seungho kisses him now. They are still strangers, but there is this lure of a glimmering pleasure between them. Nakyum can't resist its pull.

When Seungho pulls back to remove the rest of their clothes, leaving them fully bare under each other's eyes, Nakyum can't even feel too shy. His attention is wholly occupied by devouring the sight in front of him.

Seungho is beautiful. His body is smooth, strong all over, as if he is carved, carefully crafted by a master.

And so, Nakyum loses himself to the passion that ignites within.

When Seungho finally pushes in, there is pain, but there is pleasure too. There is so much pleasure that it wipes Nakyum’s mind clear. He can’t think of anything else, all fears and concerns lost.

And then, the pleasure rises, crests, blinding him its brightness.

Moments later, Nakyum is still panting hard, coming down from a high like no other.

Seungho pulls away, rolls over on his side. He is breathing hard too beside him, but only for a moment before he gets up.

Nakyum blinks his eyes open.

Seungho is gathering the clothes that he abandoned on the floor. He is carefully avoiding Nakyum's gaze.

He puts his pants back on.

He has his back still turned towards Nakyum, when he speaks. With a voice that sounds so strange, wrong, he says, “There, the marriage has been consummated, just as father wanted.”

Seungho bends to pick up his robes from the floor. He seems to have slipped right into his earlier demeanor, as if he was wholly unaffected with what they just did, and Nakyum can do nothing more than stare at him with a look of confusion, of concern.

When Seungho pulls on his robes and walks to the door, Nakyum finally finds words.

“W-where are you going?” he asks, hurried.

Seungho glances at Nakyum over his shoulder. His tone is cold and biting, as he replies, “To live my life, husband.”

#potn #painter of the night #potn fanfic #potn fic: wild geese

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