#but I just wanted to be serious and pretentious me for a second instead | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

djolikejoe · 9 months

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Hello Joe Nation, long time lurker, first time poster. Dedicated to my bestie who knew I'd love Joe while I tried (and failed) to resist him. He is inevitable🫶

Intentionally, you were trying not to remember things about him. And not even just to play hard to get. He’d have to show interest in you for you even to start that game. Instead, this was all a desperate attempt to fight off your growing feelings for him.

He’d hit you like a truck.

You were working together on a small indie drama. The film's plot follows your character, who meets Joe’s character at a hostel in Berlin, and their subsequent relationship. And the weird thing was, you were never into actors. You spent too much time around them as one, and your peers were typically perpetual theatre kids and the fruits of nepotism. The acting world was a small, incestuous bubble, and you didn’t like hanging out around it more than you had to.

But Joe.

Joe was so…different. So relaxed and laid back but simultaneously so high-strung and particular. You liked his complexity. That one moment, he’d be a serious, pretentious actor thoughtfully answering a question, then after, be he’d outside, mainlining a shitty corner store coffee in-between pounds of his Puff bar. That he’d affectionately moaned and groaned at you for ordering off the children’s menu at a nice restaurant, only a few hours later, be one shot away from taking his top off and joining the middle-aged ladies he’d helped get on top of the bar. He was playful and fun but still kind and compassionate.

You’d started feeling something for him in the middle of filming—two days into a week-long filming stint of a scene where Joe’s character goes down on yours. It wasn’t that filming it made you feel incredibly sexy, or he’d indicated any sort of attraction to you while you were working. It was so much worse than that.

He was respectful. Beyond respectful. Professional.

After a day of being at eye level with your pussy, he hadn’t been weird. He was exactly how he’d been otherwise when you wrapped for the day. Vape in hand and back in his blue jeans and button-up, asking you if you wanted to share a car back to the hotel. He sat the usual space away from you the whole ride, conversing normally with you and the driver. He casually offered if you wanted to join him and his assistant for dinner at the tapas place across the street, just like he did most Friday nights.

When you sat with him outside while he had his pre-dinner, hand-rolled cigarette, that’s when you think you fell. He started talking while he rolled, both of you watching him stuff the tobacco into the paper with expert precision. You’d spent so much time with him that you’d seen him do this so often that it dawned on you that he was rolling far slower than you knew he could.

“And, uh,” he cleared his throat, and his big, brown eyes flashed to yours before he started again. “If, like, you feel weird or anything after today…” He was focused back on his hands, but your gaze stayed on his face. “We don’t have to..like, I know we’re friends, but…”

You knew something was wrong when you felt disappointed at that word. Friends.

“Like, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to–I don’t know.” Joe sighed, fished rolling, and turned his face back to yours. You had to fight yourself to hold his eye. “I just want you to feel comfortable around me.”

“I do,” you answered without thinking. You would have been embarrassed by the sudden admission, but the smile Joe rewarded you with after such a genuine answer made your heart thud in your chest. You wanted to kiss him and throw up all at the same time. There was a heat in your cheeks that you couldn’t get to subside all night. It was made worse when the two of you went inside and met up with his assistant. At the last second, right before he was going to take the seat across from you, he changed his mind and scooted in on the other side of you in the small booth. He was so close you could feel his thigh next to yours. You hoped you were as good of an actress as you thought because, by the sixth plate of tapas, you’d realized just how much you liked Joe and how much of it you’d been stuffing down and ignoring before.

That night, you didn’t say much at dinner. Just smiled and laughed along with whatever stories Joe and Aly, his assistant, told you from the Stranger Things press tour. Joe noticed, of course. And after you’d dropped Aly off at her room on the eighth floor, he turned to you as the elevator kept climbing.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

You were so lost in your head you didn’t hear him the first time. You realized he was talking to you only after he said your name twice.

“I asked if you were alright; you seem…distracted?” Joe said it tenderly, without judgment, and full of genuine concern.

“No, yeah, I’m good. Just,” you paused, needing to escape the heat of Joe’s gaze. You wondered if he’d always been that intense with eye contact or if he was just that skeptical of you. Once, in the safely pretending to stare off into space, you started again. “Homesick, I guess.” you shrug, trying to blink away some of the fog in your brain to convince him.

Joe observed you, eyes searching your face. He seemed unsatisfied with your answer, but the elevator dinged to his floor before he could ask anything else.

“Well…if you’re okay?” He swung one arm out to hold the elevator door open after he stepped out.

“Definitely.” Your stomach knotted at the lie. Joe narrowed his eyes but removed his arm to watch you as the door closed.

Once it shut, you could hear him burst into laughter at the interaction. You could only get yourself to smile a little. Because you knew you could never have him.

Things only got worse from there. You tried to remain normal about him, but it wasn’t going well. You’d feel sick every time you saw him and the constant performance around him–and the actual performance of your role in the film–you were exhausted. So, you started avoiding him as casually as you could. You passed on your usual Friday night plans and only took him up if a larger group was going. It was hard to find good enough excuses; you didn’t know many people in Germany, and Joe knew that. He was also very hard to say no to, especially when you were trying not to fall in love with him.

But you’d made it to the wrap party only having slipped and gone out with him three times. There was a noticeable difference between the two of you at the party; the nosiest of your costars were sure to ask about it. You avoided their questions with polite laughter and a quick escape.

Calling it an early night was the best move. You’d started your goodbyes so you could end with Joe, trying to find some subtle way to tell him that he’d been wonderful and you were the weird one.

When you reached the bottom of a long list, and only he remained, you couldn’t find him. You thought you had nailed a good enough goodbye speech and were repeating it repeatedly in your head as you searched for him.

You probably should have started with the balconies as the prime smoke break location, but you didn’t think of it till you’d searched the whole venue twice. You could smell the cigarette when you opened the door, and you smiled to yourself. This would be a good, friendly goodbye. You could leave him–and your feelings–on good terms here in Germany and move on.

But as you stepped out and turned to find him, your stomach dropped.

Joe’s hands were knotted in long, dark hair as his lips melted with hers. You didn’t recognize her, not from filming and not from her dress in the crowd of the party. They were clearly occupied, and you scurried away. You went straight to the front door and the yard to wait for your car. You were thanking whatever divine intervention had put Joe facing the back garden as you shivered in the night air.

After that, you dove into work. You were trying to distract yourself with the distance and new roles. You felt better, more yourself by the time it came around for the press tour again. You thought you were completely, utterly over Joe. The two of you hadn’t spoken much since filming wrapped. He texted you the day following the wrap party, disappointed he missed you before you left. You politely returned the sentiment. Beyond that, he’d sent something here or there. You’d respond appropriately, but…not quite like before. Distance still had to be managed. Thank God he wasn’t really on social media, or you weren’t sure you would have been to move on at all.

Except.

You’re not over him.

Not really.

It certainly didn't feel like it when you open the door to your interview with him, and he excitedly gasps, “There she is!”

It didn't feel like it when he hugged you close and rubbed a hand up and down your back. And it didn't feel like it when he pulled away, looked you directly in the eye, and told you. “God, I’ve missed you.”

You let yourself fall back into him–just a little, just for the sake of the movie promotion. You played someone in love; you might as well milk it for all its worth on the press tour.

Joe seemed to realize you’d let part of your guard down, and he relished having some semblance of your personality back. The two of you giggled through interviews, bantering and learning silly facts about each other. You also learned Joe had seen your newest project. He raved about it when an interviewer mentioned it, and for a moment, you let yourself believe all the compliments he was paying you.

The problem was that his words felt so genuine. He felt so genuine.

That terrified you. When this was all over, your feelings would still be real, and his would be fake. Sure, you weren’t in costume, but you knew he was acting. You’d seen him working long enough to know when he was performing and when he wasn’t. You tried not to think about it and just enjoy it.

You were familiar with rejection, with the industry you were in, but you’d always been far more risky in your career than your personal life. You were sure you wouldn’t be able to handle him rejecting you, even if you knew he’d do it in the loveliest, gentlest way he could. You didn’t want him to see that side of you and didn’t want to confirm the ache of unreciprocated feelings. You’d let yourself have him for a fleeting moment now, and then you’d let him go.

When you started to shut him out, Joe felt like he had lost an old friend. He knew you were private and kept your business to yourself, but he knew that something had changed with you. At first, he thought it might be something with your mental health. Some of the topics in the film were heavy, and he’d had his moments where he’d been playing low for so long that he started to really feel it.

Then some of your castmates started mentioning rumors. Rumors of you dating someone or being part of some kind of affair. Joe didn’t want to pry, so he never asked. He never found out why you’d started taking yourself away; Joe just knew he hated that he was losing you.

Having you back in that interview felt as good as he imagined. Joe knew you were special, but he’d forgotten just how much. You seemed brighter and much more present. And you no longer gave him that half-assed smile. Now, he could get you full-on laughing.

Things are going well until the last interview of the day. It’s the final for the pair of you as you’d be rotated with other castmates for the rest of the tour. It's an easy one, a game with some Buzzed-esque website with outlandish questions that you and Joe are just delirious enough to play into. Until you get to a fuck, marry, kill type of game where you would try to guess how Joe would answer. On the last round, you make an offhanded comment that Joe would much rather marry and kiss the two models whose names had been thrown in with yours. The interviewer laughed, but Joe was noticeably quiet beside you.

After too long of an awkward pause, Joe takes on a Valley Girl accent to ask if you thought he was shallow. The interview ends quickly after that, with you smiling and waving her and her crew off.

Joe grabbed your arm before you could follow your publicist out the door.

“We need to talk.” There was a sternness in his voice that you’d never heard, and it made you gulp. You nodded and let him pull you into the en suite bathroom of the hotel room where you’d been doing interviews.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded as soon as the door shut. You glanced around the room as if to signal that you were confused.

“Like…with this bathroom or…?” You strategically avoided his eyes by spinning to take in the wallpaper.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing.” He snapped, and that got you to look at him. “Have I done something? Have I offended you or have terrible breath?”

“What? No, Joe. You’re lovely. You’re–” You stopped yourself. If you weren’t careful, you’d head straight into opening the floodgates and pouring all your feelings out. "You’re really great,” You choked out. There was tightness in your throat, a wave of tears you were eager to keep at bay.

“So why do you not wanna be friends anymore? Why don’t you answer my texts anymore? Why–Do you know how much I miss the ludicrous amount of emojis you use? I thought you were–I thought we could were friends.”

“We are friends! We-I just–I just needed some space to work through some stuff. It’s not you. Nothing is about you.” Except it all is, you wanted to say.

“Then can we go back to being friends? Acting like friends?” He arched a brow skeptically. You took a deep breath at how crestfallen he looked. But you weren’t sure you could still be friends. You didn’t reread old texts from other friends. You didn’t fantasize about them or wish they were laying next to you as you drifted off to sleep. Friends seemed impossible. You didn’t want to hurt him, but staying his friend cut you deep, too.

“I-I don’t know…”

“Why not!” he snapped, eyes fierce as he stepped in front of the door. Like he thought you were going to make a run for it. “If we can’t be friends, then don’t you think I at least deserve to know why we can’t?”

“Joe…”

“No, no. Really. If you get to decide for both of us, it better be good. So.” he motions for you to go on before crossing his arms over his chest. When you hesitated to answer, he scowled like a petulant brat and rolled his eyes. “Come. On. Out with it!”

“I can’t be your friend because…” you stalled, wracking your brain to find some way, any way, out of it. Joe sensed your distress and softened a little, relaxing his shoulders and uncrossing his arms.

“C’mon, it’s just me. I can take it. Whatever it is, you won’t offend me, I promise. Okay? Just tell me. I’m a big boy. I can take it.” Joe takes the smallest steps forward, and you feel like you’re a skittish animal he’s trying to coax.

He was being too nice. Too good to you when you were being bad to him. It made your eyes well with guilty tears; you could feel your ears grow hot with shame under your hair.

“Because this is exactly why!” you sobbed, clasping a hand over your mouth in one last ditch effort to keep it all inside. “Because you’re so good and I’m–you’re–” Looking down at your shoes on the tiled floor, you tried to summon all your strength to just come out with it. You took one last deep breath.

“We can’t be friends because I think I’m in love with you,” you admitted in the tiniest voice. But Joe heard you loud and clear.

He didn't respond for a long time—leaving just silence between the two of you in the small space. You snuck a peak at him under your wet lashes, taking in his shocked face the worst way.

“You don’t–you don’t have to say anything. I-I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But that’s why. And I know you don’t like me back, and that’s okay.” You swallowed hard, “I don’t think I can be friends with you for a while, you know; maybe we can give each other some space and see where we’re at i–”

“Wait.”

“--a few years, and then maybe we can go from there. I really want to be frien–”

“Stop!” Joe almost shouted to cut you off. “Just stop. Just stop and listen to me.” He was in front of you now, his arms holding you by the biceps. He bent a bit at the knee so you can’t duck out of his eye-line. “I like you too. I like you so much, you stupid, beautiful girl.” He smiled fondly, sweeping hair behind your ear. Your bottom lip wobbled in reaction, and he cooed, wrapping his arms around your body and swaying the two of you. “My silly, silly girl.” he laughed into your hair, relief swallowing both your bodies whole. “Why else do you think I’d miss your monstrous use of emoticons? I’d have to bloody be in love with ya for that.” he rolls his eyes sarcastically.

“Yeah?”

“‘Course, yeah. He scrunches his nose cutely at you and keeps his arm over your shoulder. “Now, let’s go, missy; we’ve got a loooot of catching up to do.”

#Joseph Quinn rpf #joe Quinn rpf #Joseph Quinn x reader #joseph quinn x fem!reader

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thetenthdoctorscompanion · 1 year

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I’m gonna need Chrissy & Steve for #10!!!! Gimme the Christmas feels!

10. slow-dancing in the living room to classical music

You ask, I deliver. Prepare for sugar plum sweet, tooth-rotting fluff.

Christmas Day, 1985

It had taken a couple years, but Steve was finally starting to enjoy Christmas again. He had hazy memories of bright Christmas mornings when he was a kid, but by the first grade, he’d been attending his father’s corporate business party. It was a big, fancy event at a high-end catering hall where the tables had ice sculptures and the utensils were real silver. Steve couldn’t imagine how much money the company blew on it every year. His mother practically disappeared for the whole month of December to plan it and make sure everything was perfect. Friends and family were always invited, but more than anything, it was a chance for his dad to suck up to other corporate assholes under the guise of holiday cheer.

Steve didn’t hate it—at least, he hated it less than the other events he got dragged to. There were always a couple other kids there, a handful he saw every year. The kids’ table slowly became the teens’ table, and then they’d sneak outside with a couple bottles of wine to wait out the party. It was fun, but he never really enjoyed himself; it didn’t make sense even in his own head.

The Wheelers had been the ones to break the cycle. Once Steve and Nancy were official dating, Mrs. Wheeler invited him over for Christmas dinner. Steve’s parents hadn’t been thrilled, but his absence at the party would give them an excuse to brag about how he was in a “serious relationship” with a nice girl.

It had been a good Christmas, right out of one of those old paintings of a picture-perfect family around the table. The Wheelers were nice, the food was great, and it was all just so much less pretentious than what he was used to. He actually enjoyed it, and things started to make more sense.

The next year, he couldn’t go back. The problem was that he didn’t have a girlfriend as an excuse anymore. In the end, he lied about being sick so he could skip the corporate party and go to the Henderson house instead. That dinner was way bigger than the year before—Dustin and his mom, Chrissy and her dad, even Hopper and Eleven. The two of them didn’t come together, exactly. Dustin just told his mom that El was a friend from school whose parents were out of town, and Claudia hadn’t batted an eye. Everyone squeezed around the table, taking second helpings of everything and, as Steve sat squashed between Chrissy and Dustin, he hoped Christmas would be like that every year.

Well. That Christmas wish hadn’t come true.

This year, Steve’s parents made it crystal clear that they were dragging him to the party whether he liked it or not. He’d pulled the girlfriend card again, hoping to spend Christmas with Chrissy, but it didn’t work this time. After twelve days of Christmas arguments and a ton of tense negotiations, they’d come to a compromise: Steve was coming to the party, but he was allowed to bring Chrissy as his date.

“I really don’t mind,” Chrissy said in the car, after he’d apologized for the hundredth time for putting her through this. “Last year was different for you. This year will be different for me.”

“Yeah,” Steve scoffed, straightening his tie, “if ‘different’ means listening to a bunch of snobby assholes brag about their lives until you want to drill a hole in your head.’”

Chrissy reached over, grabbing one of his hands from the steering wheel and gently stroking the back of his hand. “Well then, we’ll just have to hide in a corner and make fun of everyone until it’s time to go home.”

It pulled a smile out of Steve, even though he was still annoyed. He knew he was being overdramatic. They would be able to sneak out after an hour or two, but until then, he wanted to shield Chrissy from as much of the pettiness and cruelty that he could.

The Harrington house was decked out of Christmas with pin-straight lights lining the roof and an enormous wreath on the front door. It was pretty, but Steve couldn’t look at anything but Chrissy as she climbed out of the car.

She’d been trying to calm him down the whole ride over, but Steve knew that she was nervous too. Everything was wearing was new, from her red lipstick to her emerald dress, the skirt shiny with a complicated gold pattern. When he’d gone to pick her up from her house, the sight of her had knocked the wind right out of him. Just thinking about all the time and effort and money she’d put into her appearance to impress his parents and their friends made him that much angrier about the whole thing.

He grabbed her hand as they walked up the driveway, holding it tight so her fingers would stop trembling. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

Chrissy’s pink cheeks flushed darker as she rolled her eyes. “Thank you. Again.”

“You’re welcome, again. Hey, by the way—have I mentioned that you’re fucking gorgeous?”

That got him a laugh, along with a shove as they hurried up the front steps and into the house.

Inside, the decorations were just as neat as they were outside. Evergreen was wrapped around the banister and lining the side tables alongside towering red candles. They ventured into the living room, where the bough continued along the balcony until it disappeared behind the oversized Christmas tree in the corner. All the ornaments were shades of white and silver, right up to the shining star on top.

“They’re home, right?” Chrissy asked uncertainly.

The house was quiet except for the instrumental music drifting from the stereo, but Steve waved off Chrissy’s concern.

“They’ll be back. They probably wandered down the block exchange gifts with the mayor or whatever.” He gestured for her to sit on the couch while he headed to the stereo cabinet. “ I don’t know why they leave this shit playing when they’re not home. I can turn it—"

“No, no! It’s fine. I love The Nutcracker.” Chrissy was wearing a tiny smile, perched on the very edge of the couch cushion. “Reminds me of Mom.”

Steve pulled his hand back from the stereo. He sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, easing her into a more comfortable position fully on the couch. She leaned into his side, and Steve watched the string lights twinkle in her eyes as she thought.

“Honestly, I barely remember it,” she said softly. “It’s one of those things where it’s like—I don’t know if I actually remember, or if I’ve just thought about it so much that I think I remember, you know? I was maybe…four and a half? Mom was already sick, but it was before things got too bad. I begged them to take me to The Nutcracker for like weeks.”

“Seriously?” Steve squinted at her. “You begged them to go to the NYC Ballet?”

“Oh God, no!” She giggled and lifted a hand to cover her mouth. “No, it was a local show. Just a bunch of kids, really, but it didn’t stop me from becoming obsessed. I listened to that tape until it broke. Told Mom I was gonna be a ballerina.”

Chrissy giggled again, but it was sadder this time. Steve didn’t need her to fill in the gaps. Her mom’s health had gotten worse, and Chrissy’s life became of a blue of hospitals and rental houses. Dance classes weren’t really on the table.

The music shifted into the next section, something even Steve could almost recognize. “This one’s…?”

“Waltz of the Flowers,” Chrissy supplied.

“Right. I knew that.”

“Sure you did, baby.”

She smirked at him and Steve pouted despite the warmth that filled his chest. He stood up abruptly, shaking out his suit jacket with a flourish, then held out his hand. Chrissy raised an eyebrow, bemused.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on.” He pulled her to her feet and led her to the middle of the living room floor. “What we are doing is dancing.”

“Steve—”

He ignored her protest and lifted his arm to force her into a twirl. Chrissy wobbled in her high heels and Steve caught her against his chest as she collapsed in a fit of laughter. He grinned and pressed a kiss to her hair, his free hand finding hers and weaving their fingers together.

“Okay, uh—step back with this foot,” he instructed, nudging her right with his left, “and now sideways with this one, then together. Then you come forward with this one—yeah, there you go—”

It was a clunky rhythm, both of them laughing as they struggled to find their footing. They were stepping more than they were dancing, the music barely a suggestion at that point. It took Chrissy’s brain a minute to catch up, but when it did, she tripped over herself as she looked up at him.

“Steven Harrington,” she said in awe, “are you…? Since when can you waltz?”

He could feel his face turning red, but tried to focus on keeping Chrissy upright as she struggled. “Well, ‘waltz’ is a pretty generous word…”

“Steve.”

“Fine, I—kinda. When I was little, my cousin had this wedding and I was the ring bearer and—it was this whole thing. She made everyone in the bridal party do this opening dance. I sucked and uh—it does not look like I got any better.”

He chuckled, but to his surprise, Chrissy pulled him to a stop. She looked at him in earnest, making sure she had his undivided attention before she spoke.

“You’re amazing, Steve. And I love you.”

“I know.”

Chrissy narrowed her eyes at him, annoyed and somehow still even happier than she’d been before. She tucked her lips in to hide her smile, then closed the distance between them so she could rest her head on his chest.

They swayed on the spot, forgoing the waltz and the complicated footwork. With Chrissy’s head on his chest, Steve could almost feel her humming along to the music. For a few minutes, Steve let himself believe that his parents weren’t coming home. They’d gone to some other party and he was staying here with Christine. They’d dance in the living room until she inevitably dragged him off to dinner—with their friends, with her dad, or maybe just the two of them. There wouldn’t be any sneaking or snide comments or arguments. It was Christmas, he had Christine in his arms, and he was going to enjoy himself.

#hi this is the definition of self-indulgent #brittney writes #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x foc #stranger things oc #inside out #io series #io prompt #io prompts #stissy

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themistymountainscold · 1 year

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Frenchie: Do you care if I take the skin off this Furby? Frenchie: I want to make him a god. Once he is free of his sinful flesh, he can begin a path towards enlightenment. He will take care of us. Frenchie: I also want to softhack his circuits. Izzy: I literally could not care less but never say anything as frightening as that ever again.

Izzy, handing out popsicles: Which flavor do you want? Frenchie: Blue flavor! Izzy: Uh, you mean Blue Raspberry? Frenchie: Blue flavor! Blue flavor! Izzy: Blue is not a flavor! Frenchie: BLUE FLAVOR!

Frenchie: I want a trip down memory lane. Izzy: proceeds to grab every warrior cats book they have and sets them in Frenchie's lap Izzy: I heard you needed these? Frenchie: YES! ALL OF THEM!

Izzy: holding a salt packet It’s just a little sodium chloride. Frenchie: Actually Izzy, it’s salt. Izzy: That’s what I said, sodium chloride. Frenchie: Uh Izzy, that would be salt. Frenchie: takes salt packer from Izzy This is iodized table salt, which in addition to sodium chloride contains anti-caking agents and potassium iodate, which is added to prevent iodine deficiency. So not only are you being overly pretentious by insisting on using scientific terminology for everyday items, you are factually wrong. Your arrogance is your downfall, you annoying little shit.

Frenchie: Why's it called an oven when you of in the cold food and you of out hot eat the food? Izzy: ...What???

Frenchie: You're violent. Izzy: Yeah but I'm also short and that's adorable.

Izzy: The joy of hanging out with Frenchie. You look away for 5 seconds to make sure something is set up correctly, and they bite the tip of a marker off.

Frenchie: Okay happy campers! If you were a fruit what would you be and why? Izzy: I'd be a tomato because no one accepts me as part of the group. Frenchie: ... Izzy: ... Frenchie: OKAY HAPPY CAMPERS-

Izzy: I'm not mean. Name one mean thing I’ve ever done. Frenchie: When we were younger, you convinced me eggs weren't real. Izzy: They're not. Frenchie: Haha, very funny. Izzy: I'm serious. Didn't you hear? Frenchie: No… what happened? Izzy: …Why would you fall for this again-

Frenchie: Are pigeons drones? Izzy: What? No, I'm trying to sleep. Frenchie: Think about it. How come you've never seen a baby pigeon? And why do you never actually see a pigeon nest? Because they're DRONES! Izzy: *Crying* Please let me sleep...

Frenchie: Don’t worry, I have a permit. Izzy: …This just says “I can do what I want”.

Frenchie: shoves their hand in the slot of a toaster Izzy: … Frenchie: …I get confused sometimes. Izzy: Me too.

Frenchie: Advice of the day kids, if you ever meet someone who calls Gatorade flavors the actual name of the flavor instead of just the color then they are a certified nerd. Izzy: Yeah but you have to specify, frost glacier or cool blue? You can’t just say blue because there’s more than one blue. Frenchie: Blue and light blue, nice try nerd.

Izzy, hungover: Please tell me I'm imagining that I claimed I was king of the ducks. Frenchie: I would, but then I would be lying to the King of All Ducks.

i love you

#i love you #incorrect quotes anon #<33 #do i have permission to upload these seperate?#i fucking love them #literally all credit to you my friend #ofmd #our flag means death #incorrect quotes #ofmd incorrect quotes #ofmd meme #izzy hands #frenchie #ouizzy #izzy x frenchie #frenchizzy #gay

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zutraeumen · 10 months

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The Second Course

Darkness fell. The restaurant, bay windows aglow with warm light from afar. Out here, amidst the water and trees, all was quiet save for the lonesome, distant call of a loon.

Adele was actually prepared for the next clap! of hands from the Chef, you would never catch her unprepared twice!

"Is he gonna keep doing that?"

I fear so dear Margot.

This time, he didn't even wait for his customer's attention as he began another fancy monologue, "Bread has existed in some form for over twelve thousand years. Especially amongst the poor. Flour and water, what could be simpler? Even today, grain represents 65% of all agriculture. Fruits and vegetables? Only 6%. Ancient Greek peasants dipped their stale, measly bread and wine for breakfast. And how did Jesus teach us to pray if not to beg for 'our daily bread'? It is and always has been the food of the common man. But you, my dear guests, are not the common man. So tonight... you get no bread."

Now THAT was how you politely say 'fuck you' to the rich kids.

That was a devilishly wicked move and she loved it.

"He must be joking..."

"What?"

"It's gotta be a bit... wait, are you fucking serious?"

The worst part was, they still thought it was all in jest; a prank. Oh, how wrong the Chef proved them with his next words, "In this spirit, please enjoy the unaccompanied accompaniments."

Oh, this was better entertainment than South Park.

Watching them looking incredulously at their plates and not even realizing the Chef had just made fun of them. The level of pretentiousness and obliviousness was best described in Tyler's words as 'next level'.

The plate itself and the small accompaniments resembled a painting pallet painters used for their colours, and instead of bread was a note that read: The bread you will not be eating tonight was made from a heritage wheat called red fife, crafted with our partners at the Tehachapi Grain Project, devoted to preserving heirloom grains.

Slipping a chewing gum secretly into her mouth, the amount of chatter doubled significantly at the outrageous course of events and her amusement rose to such an extent that she could almost forget that the Chef wanted to kill her.

"This is insane," Felicity let the paper fall from her hands with a shake of her head.

"Hmmm... because the shit around the total absence of the bread is like, really good."

How could someone enjoy savoury oils and emulsions on their own when they couldn't stand without bread? George could, and Tyler as well, but he insisted it was part of a greater theme nobody of them could grasp.

Strange of him to say that, it was almost as if he knew something the others didn't. But hey, this was Tyler we were talking about, he was the type who probably knew how Slowik liked his coffee in the morning.

"I mean it's a little outrageous, isn't it?"

The blonde food critic leant back against her seat, "That's fiendish really. I mean he- he's always been keenly aware of food and its history of class I mean, as have I..."

"-Sure." Somebody shoot that sycophant in the head.

"... though I will say," she picked up her glasses once again, "that this emulsion does look slightly split."

At this point, the assassin wouldn't take anything seriously from that woman. That food critic was a joke. A woman insatiable, and so full of herself she had to criticize something to appease her own ego; as the one food critic who had discovered and later re-discovered the famous Julian Slowik.

What a bitch.

Madam Elsa thought so too, because it was only seconds before she abandoned her temporary post next to one of the hearths to put a whole ass bucket of orange, 'broken' emulsion in front of her, the very same one she had complained so viciously about. She looked so positively shocked that she couldn't even do anything else but take the L and push out a strained smile.

"Um, excuse me."

Madam Elsa was beckoned by Bryce to the larger table where the finance bros sat, "Is everything to your liking, sir?"

"Um, well, actually no, thanks for asking. I mean look, the food's great and we totally get the conceptual stuff but can we please get a little bread? Some gluten-free for my friend as well?"

"No."

Shit's about to get real.

"No?" Bryce replied, surprised.

Madam Elsa dropped the friendly facade and levelled him with a gaze that very much told him she would not budge no matter how many times he asked.

At the shock of being denied twice in a row, the table shared a round of exasperated glances before Bryan found his voice again, "This is all very clever, and I didn't wanna pull this card, but you know who we are, right?"

Oldest trick in the book.

"Yes."

"You do? You know who we are?" Soren joined in, looking patronisingly at the lady butler.

The maître d' continued to speak politely, as if she was speaking to children, "I know who you are."

Soren let out an irritatingly childish noise of disbelief from his tight-lipped mouth that further proved what a man-child he truly was.

"You know we work with Doug Varrick, right?"

"No, you work for Mr Varrick." The viper struck again. Yikes.

"Exactly so you know we all play on the same team so just, slip us a little bread, please."

"We won't tell a soul lady, I promise."

Their nerve was astounding. Entitlement at its finest. There was no way in hell they were getting what they wanted.

"No."

"Did you say no?"

"I said 'no', yes."

The tension deflated as they gave up, receding in their seats with equal expressions of undignified rejection. Adele smirked in triumph, served them right! But then the lady butler whispered something into Soren's ear and the man had gone paler than a white sheet in the matter of second.

Adele would have paid money to know what Madam Elsa might have said to him.

The Chef until then, presided over the kitchen with a downright menacing gaze, surveying both staff and customers until a loud, unexpected noise popped the bubble in the restaurant.

A glass was shattered and Slowik was onto it like a panther in waiting.

"You haven't touched your food." The Chef remarked to Margot, eyes devoid of passion. Where had that subtle malice gone?

"There is no food."

Hit the nail right on the head.

"No, this is food."

And then the chatter renewed and now there was no way she could continue listening in any more than that. Looking around to see if anybody would notice, Adele watched on as they talked and boy did it seem like Margot was telling him off. Tyler visibly fidgeted in his seat, mortified that he had somehow offended his idol.

Then a truly dour expression took over Chef's taut face, He half-smiled and half-grimaced. No one talked to him like this. Then he walked away. Tyler looked sick.

Adele had said it before and she would say it again, that woman had some guts to tell that to the head chef, even when she wholeheartedly agreed. The courses were horrendously empty of proper food and filled with superficial words that soured the mood to eat altogether.

And Adele was likely to get poisoned if she ever listened to her stomach- WHAT THE HELL WAS HE DOING HERE?!

The Chef suddenly stopped at her own table. Alarmed, she thought he would confront Adele the same way he did with Margot but he did no such thing. The patrician with clean-shaven cheeks, and trimmed brown hair completely disregarded her presence and gently lowered his forehead onto the madam's sitting with her.

There was warmth, there was true affection in this act, but even such raw moments were over in but a fraction of a moment if one blinked too many times, and soon the Chef was back marching into the kitchen, overseeing the preparation of the next course.

"I want plating in three, my friends!"

"Yes, Chef!"

#romance #julian slowik #chef slowik #horror #ralph fiennes #winston scott #john wick #john wick chapter 4 #keanu reeves #john wick 4 #margot mills #the menu #eventual romance #eventual smut #eventual relationship

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dzchris · 1 year

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hello, it's jamie, again, still, this time here to introduce absolute piece of trash chris kwon. i still am also the mun of @dzyuanjun and @dzyena i will not let you all forget i fear. yet again no plot page here (yet, i say hopefully, delusionally even) buuuut do feel free to read his profile and biography respectively. or don't. i'm not here to tell you what to do. i'll leave a rundown of them (derogatory) below the cut so feel free to check that out too. feel free to like this post or send me an im or if you prefer discord, just say so and i'll add you there

triggers: parental neglect, bullying

chris kwon... my beloathed... can't stand their bitchass

non-binary, goes by he/they pronouns in general, just he/him works tho, in work settings and stuff

a cali boy (gender neutral), grew up in the states hence their perpetual 'relatable western-korean idol' stint that baekho media shoves down everyone's throats

grew up in a rocky family situation, mother's side is korean diaspora that settled in the us and their dad was a korean nepotism baby studying in the states for pretentious rich people reasons. no shocker that chris' dad was out the door the second he realized he had knocked his not all that serious fling up

chris' mom is... not that much better. kind of a hot mess of a person. def not capable of raising a child, leave alone one she kinda rlly didn't want

chris isn't privy to the fine details but at some point during very early childhood they almost got put in the system on grounds of child negligence but his aunt (his mother's sister) stepped in at the last moment and took over custody, chris and their mother both have been living with his aunt and her family ever since (which tbh is as long as chris can remember)

so obviously his bond with his mom is also Not Great, his aunt always tried her best as far as she could but tbh with his uncle and his older cousins also kinda despising chris' bitchass, family stuff has always been tricky

school wasn't much better, chris got picked on a lot as a kid and he always retaliated with outbursts or violence or something that vein which in turn always got him in even more trouble

yeah, chris has always been an angry defensive kid,,, still is a i fear

went to an alpha entertaiment audition with friends and somehow??? got in??? they were also kinda surprised by that but hey they were more than willing to take the excuse to get out their family situation and just yeet to korea instead, so they did

training under alpha ent was... not a good time... not for chris or any of the other trainees tbh. chris didn't really have much experience backing him up and quickly found himself with a raging inferiority complex which in turn only... made them Angrier and More Competitive

ngl they spent most of the 5? 6? years under alpha just arguing and fighting with just about anyone he could

ofc, clover debuted and chris wasnt in the debut line-up lmao

what did he expect 1) he couldn't stand any of these bitches and 2) i think they would have combusted on the spot if they had to sing baby

chris stuck another handful of years in alpha after that, continuing their shitty attitude vibe, not rlly sure what else to do with himself

until eventual baekho media hit them up like hey bestieeee wanna join our label if you do we'll promise you a spot on our upcoming survival show as one of our own label's representatives

and what was chris gonna do? say no?

they were kinda rlly popular on top five? they had like 5/6 years worth of trainee experience and baekho milked tf out of that 'former alpha trainee that was supposed to be in clover' narrative

was it true? no but it did earn chris the number one spot in the very first episode, not falling out of the top three for the first half-ish or so of the show

chris seemed kinda set for debut but ofc, like all good things in their life, they had to ruin it for themself

as he acted all around selfish, difficult, confrontational and sometimes straight up Mean to the other competitors, aided by very dramatic evil editing, chris found himself slipping down the rankings until he was actually not in the top 5 for the first time since the beginning of the show by the last episode before the finale

they ended up scraping in at fifth place, barely, and tbh chris has a tiny personal conspiracy theory that maybe baekho media rigged them into that fifth place spot. no real evidence for that. just cuz chris doubts he could've brought anything to a good end by himself

so yeah, top five is over now, 5ummit set to debut and chris is,,, impossibly struggling with overcoming the urge to fistfight their new members on a daily basis, to not see them as competition but as coworkers anymore

needless to say chris is bad at making friends, he's generally guarded and mean and callous, which as a not-even-debuted-yet idol is something that makes it very easy to come across as rude or disrespectful

chris can be charming and flirty in that fuckboy-y (gender neutral) sense when they want to be, the cool badboy (gender neutral) archetype

but most of the time he's just, a poorly held together pile of anger issues and feelings of inferiorty

so yeah,,,, have fun trying to befriend chris,,, they're a piece of work

they're??? kinda trying to no longer be evil, just want to experience love and affection now but it's an uphill battle, that's for sure

#❇ — ooc.#dz:intro

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smzeszikorova · 2 years

Text

Find the Word

Word of warning: this is long.

I was tagged by @dogmomwrites to find the words flame, stelliferous, chain, steed, and demand, and . . . I tried. This is probably in part because I only have one WIP at the moment, but literally the only word I could find was demand, and it wasn't even in my actual draft. I found it in my side document "Theodore Diaries" which details some of the things that end up happening in book three from Theo's perspective.

Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy. I'll give you a bit of a longer excerpt on top of all my fun facts, that way it's not too dull.

Tagging @thetruearchmagos, @daisywords, @pinespittinink, @starlightscribe, and @antihell if any of you are interested / haven't already been tagged. Your words are unsettle, clumsy, fury, soup, and scatter. If you can't find one, include a fun fact about your WIP, writing process, or characters instead. (Courtesy of @marinesocks).

Ok, here it is:

Demand, taken from June 17 Entry of Theodore Diaries:

The combat segment was always divided into two categories: individual and team. But evidently, the overseers had decided to ignore the team combat segment entirely and to evaluate only the other three dependents in individual combat. I could tell that Lennox found this annoying, but by now I was so tired of his complaining that I pretended not to notice. Playground-style is just a tool for evaluating our combat abilities, and really, to me it comes off as more of an extension to the physical aptitude segment than anything else. Playground-style is about technique above all; it’s about swordsmanship. It’s about your ability to watch what your opponent does, quickly form a defensive or counteroffensive strategy, and then act. It’s about stability and balance. Your thought and action must work as one: a machine within a machine. Unity within unity.

In other words, it’s not all that different from grappling, except that it’s an art that demands the use of instruments designed for killing, and you have to be able to see to be any good at it.

So instead of doing that, I sat on my box and listened to the overseers’ commentary, thinking that if I committed to memory whatever information they had to offer about my teammates’ strengths and weaknesses and strategic tendencies, I might be able to apply that information later on when it became relevant to the formulation and execution of our attack plans.

Ok, now for the second part:

P&K didn't become a serious project of mine until I showed it to my coauthor. Before that, it was just a silly little story about a pirate named Sera Selney and her semi-willing partner in crime, Lyn, trying to save Sera's bratty, aristocratic cousin from a mob boss named Levi Niacera. I was in middle school and didn't know how to write interesting plotlines and character arcs. I even gave a secondary antagonist my baby brother's nickname. Since the story's changed so much since then, some of our early plot points and characters are practically unrecognizable to me.

So for the fun facts segment, I'm gonna talk about some of the ways my story's changed over the years.

Fun Fact 1: There was originally a heist scene in one of the first few chapters where Sera, at her cousin's request, goes to steal a pair of crystals from Mr. Secondary Antagonist Nonakinze. These crystals have the power to make their carrier immortal. But since I had no idea how to write suspense, I tried to raise the stakes of the heist by placing a fat fucking war zone right outside Nonakinze's house.

Fun Fact 2: I went through a phase where all my characters used flowery, archaic language. This phase co-occurred with my "I am determined to open this book with a pretentious prologue about my protagonists' parents killing each other on the battlefield" phase and my "I refuse to not let Levi murder all the good guys in the end" phase. Why all these phases, you ask? Because I was a pretentious asshole. I didn't want my book falling into the YA category, and I thought making it excessively dark, depressing, and full of pointlessly elaborate synonyms to the point of near unreadability was the way to do that.

Fun Fact 3: While I was wasting my time writing pretentious prologues, all the real progress in the story's development came through me and @adrielcastlyre acting out scenes.

Fun Fact 4: There were a few characters who ended up slowly morphing into our current characters without us knowing. Some of these were

The "Land-Ho" Guy. Originally characterized as a bumbling fool who would only remember to say his catchphrase after somebody else had already spotted land. He eventually became the ship's medic, Noah Barrow. Interesting by virtue of his overprotective but well-meaning relationship with his daughter. We cut him out of the story after our focus drifted away from Sera's ship and toward the war between Pemoki and Kenacia, but eventually his character resurfaced in the form of General Adrona.

Canary. Originally the "Land-Ho" guy's pet bird, with whom he could converse telepathically. She eventually became his daughter, Sophia Barrow. Again, she was cut from the story, but came back later on as Rolyn Czeres.

Tonaro Vercaneri and his older brother. Tonaro was a captive on Sera's ship. He was also a musician, which gave him some common ground with Lyn. We never went too deep into his backstory, but the couple-few times we did review it, it was usually to explore his complicated relationship with his older brother, who we never named. The conflicting resentment and admiration Tonaro felt toward his brother ended up making a reappearance in Adriel's relationship with his older brother, Hugh Oliver Castlyre.

Princess Rolova. Rolova was @adrielcastlyre's first character. She was a bit of a hothead, and extremely impulsive. She actually still exists in the story, but that was a recent readdition. Now she's Queen Rolova of Aleon, and most of her personality's been completely revamped.

Kira. Kira never had a last name. She was simply an impoverished Kenacian citizen with a grudge against Levi (who by then was no longer a mob boss).

Kira's personality and Rolova's were combined to create Lylon, an exiled woman struggling to support her family of 12 younger sisters in northern Pemoki. Lylon eventually became Catherine, and now she has 3 sisters instead of 12.

Ernest Wolbert. Originally the terrible, incompetent ship's cook. He eventually became one of Catherine's family friends, and is now an excellent pastry chef.

Alrik Ljoren. His only purpose was to be shot to death in one of my pretentious prologues. Now he's Adriel Castlyre, one of our main characters.

I'm sorry this is so fucking long. Hope you enjoyed. If you've gotten this far, I applaud you.

#p&k #original fiction #find the word game #ocs #novel in progress #wip #current wip #find the word tag #character development #sorry for the long post

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katieskarlette · 2 years

Text

Between having Covid and then being laid off from my job (sorta...long story), I’ve had a incredibly shitty time lately and I needed a new mindless distraction. After watching CallMeKevin on YouTube play Stardew Valley, and talking to a couple RL friends who have played it, I decided to give it a shot. Instant addiction.

Cut for off-topicness.

The game appeals to my love of collecting stuff, organizing stuff, and exploring. I’m too ace to care about the dating aspect, and so far I suck at fishing, but the rest is right up my alley.

I haven’t even visited the desert yet despite unlocking the bus ages ago because there’s just so much to do.

I started with the beach farm because A.) tropical beaches are my favorite aesthetic (even though it turns out this one isn’t tropical), and B.) that’s the one I watched CallMeKevin play. I’ve learned since that it’s an annoying choice because you can’t use sprinklers on the sand terrain, but since I’ve never known anything else I don’t mind it that much.

I have cows, goats, pigs, ducks, chickens, rabbits, and a horse. I want ostriches but haven’t gotten to the place where I can get them. I named my rabbits after Watership Down characters, and my ducks are named for Donald Duck’s family members. I had to turn off breeding for my goats because they kept having babies. I tried to be patient and wait for my pig to reproduce because they’re so expensive, but after a year in-game I gave up and bought a second one. Yay, Truffle$!

I made the tier list here, but excluded characters I haven’t met yet.

Linus is a pure cinnamon roll. Krobus is the cutest sewer-dwelling shadow creature I’ve ever met and now I feel bad any time I have to kill one of his kind in the mines. Marlon gives me serious World of Warcraft character vibes for some reason...possibly the beard/’stache combo. Evelyn is everyone’s grandma and she sends me baked goods in the mail. Willy is super nice, too, and I have to like someone who’s that obsessed with fish.

Harvey is shy and socially awkward in an endearing way, even if he’s a bit of a stick-in-the-mud. Penny is a sweetie who homeschools (er...librarymuseumschools) other people’s kids out of the kindness of her heart. Robin built most of my farm and was nice enough to sell me a catalog that essentially puts her out business as far as furniture making. Abigail has gorgeous hair and I like how early on she has some grouchy interactions and some friendly ones instead of being all grouchy or all cheerful like some others. Gus is super friendly and helpful. I’m still a mage at heart even when I’m not playing WoW, so I have a soft spot for the wizard, plus he’s mysterious so I can imagine him being cooler than he probably is. Elliot is a pretentious snob but in a fun way and reminds me of an old OC of mine.

Lewis is an interesting character but he’s a politician...with all that implies. Emily was the first person to start sending me random gifts in the mail and her smile is infectious. Gunther has my dream job, running a combination museum/library. George ranks this high because grumpy old men in video games are much more fun that they are in RL. Marnie provides me with adorable animals. Vincent is one of those rare child characters who isn’t cloying or annoying. Alex is nicer than I expected a jock to be. I liked Clint to begin with but after he turned up his nose at several gifts that I thought he’d like, had a pity party for himself at every holiday gathering, gave off incel vibes, and closed his shop stupidly early in the day...yeah, not such a fav anymore. Gil doesn’t say much but I have to respect a guy who sits back and orders others to kill huge numbers of slimes...Khadgar vibes, you could say. ;)

Demetrius is smart and gave me ‘shrooms. Leah seems nice but I don’t know her that well. Sam is pretty nice but I can’t take him seriously with that anime hair. Caroline is pretty boring except for that whole rumor about her having an affair with the wizard. Pierre charges an arm and a leg for inventory upgrades and is kind of cocky. Kent is okay, if standoffish for understandable reasons. I feel guilty ranking Grandpa so low, but he looks like Santa Claus went through a machine spraying fake snow, and he didn’t cut me any slack for not having a perfect farm on my first playthrough. Shane is rude, and although I’ve read up on his backstory and his demons I still don’t like him, and I hate his frayed hoodie.

I haven’t interacted with Maru much but haven’t really been inspired to, either. Pam is okay but I can’t condone drunk bus driving. Sebastian is a cliche emo kid and that’s never been my thing. Jas has stupid hair, and I gave her a nice gift once but the next time I interacted with her she said she’d never met me...ungrateful brat. Haley is vain, said I was smelly, and has outright ignored me multiple times. I don’t know why Jodi annoys me, but she does. I ranked the Governor so low because he didn’t like my contributions to the stew the first two years, when I was actually trying, and the third year when I almost forgot and just threw in a random item he actually liked it. The dwarf ranks low because I sold off all the scrolls I should have given to him, and of course now they won’t drop for me again.

Morris is an evil corporate scumbag and has a stupid bowtie.

#KS plays Stardew Valley #pointless personal stuff

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aevallare · 2 years

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on the topic of jayce is literally one of the best characters:

PEOPLE DONT GIVE HIM ANY CREDIT FOR BEING SOOO KIND AND RESOURCEFUL AND PASSIONATE,,,like yes ofc hes made mistakes whatever hes a fictional character and also he always does what he thinks is necessary for good?? and hes been forced into really precarious situations that quite frankly DONT allow him to sit and think hard abt what his next step can be and often his gut tells him to just keep on going and try to save people-- not to act at the cost of everyone else-- and thats fucking amazing!!! hes genuienly trying to be a good guy!!!!! and also if he hates viktor a little bit...well yeah no fucking duh hes a little easily misled and he was told the man was /doing unethical human experiments on zaunites/ after they (tragically) broke contact OVER HUMAN EXPERIMENTATION....like yeah no DUH hes gonna think viktor maybe fucked up. anyways i believe in jayce supremacy bc hes really trying his best at a time where he really should be thinking about himself and thats. so admirable

CONT: sorry for the long ask just. as a league enjoyer and an avid league reader and also a long time fan (been around since the beginning of ur fics + read jaycevik Since They Came Out On League) I cannot STAND this jayce slander

wahh! hi! sorry that this took me a second; i needed to be on pc to give this the attention it deserves :angel: i'm so glad you enjoy my work!!!

OKAY. OKAY. you came to the right place. this is a safe place for jayce sympathizers and apologists. i have cultivated a garden, a society, of jayce-lovers, and this sounds like hyperbole but truly i'm only half-joking.

okay. let's get serious. i'll put it under a read-more. sorry in advance, bestie.

i don't think any fictional character is above critical analysis. like actually, i think that's... kind of the whole point? not to be a pretentious douche with an english degree (which i am) about this, but my problem with analysis of jayce's character by people that don't like jayce is that it's performed almost solely through a lens colored by the critic's perception of viktor.

you can't talk about jayce without viktor, and you can't talk about viktor without jayce, which isn't a problem unto itself! they have to have each other to create any kind of satisfying narrative! unfortunately, many arcane fans don't appear to understand that viktor is going to fuck up a lot and that he's going to fuck up bad. to fans of league viktor, this is THE APPEAL. he wants to cut out all emotion, but he's infinitely more pathos-driven than jayce is, even though the tropes played straight would make us think the opposite. the point of this, because it might seem rambly and incoherent (and it likely is both of those things), is that many people who love viktor arcane seem to think he can do no wrong.

and what that means is that it's damn easy to rake jayce over the coals for doing things that, from my perspective, are simply choices made by a man who is doing the best he can with the information he has at his disposal. viktor-lovers look at jayce and call him classist (which. like. dude is middle-class at best. my man apologizes as soon as he fucks up and says something classist on the bridge!), stupid (jayce is prodigal; it's not his fault that he's surrounded by a cast FULL of prodigies!), and ungrateful (because he didn't have a psychic link with viktor and had sex instead of rushing to viktor's bedside without anyone telling him viktor collapsed).

jayce cares so much. he cares about every injustice shown to him. he has an unbelievably soft heart. that's why long-time fans understand just how bad this is going to hurt (affectionate) when talis gets a little more giopara-fied.

arcane does a damn good job showing us that monsters are created by other people. you can't have jayvik unless jayce and viktor end up hating each other a little. jayce and viktor don't become jayce and viktor unless jayce lets viktor fall when his work is stolen, unless viktor makes compounding bad choices in the name of his glorious evolution.

it's opposing ideology wrapped in parallels, a man forced into being a symbol and another man who made himself into one (never mind that that wasn't his intent).

#arcane #arcane jayce #arcane viktor #jayce talis #is this about giopara. is it about talis. who's to say #asks #meta #sorry for rambling lmao i hope this was an appropriate response to your ask on literally ANY LEVEL

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itsdanii · 3 years

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Kyahhh your rejecting you and regretting series is just so freaking good . Uhmmm idk if you are taking requests right now but can I please request for Ushijima and Kita?Thank you so much!

Rejecting you and regretting it pt. 4

one | two | three | four

Hey, bub. I'm so glad to hear that you've been enjoying my works. Here's your request for the part 4 and final (as of now) part of the rejecting and regretting you series. Have a good day and stay hydrated! ♥️

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: semi-rude behavior (resolved), no cursing in this one because these men drink their respect women juice daily

ft. ushijima wakatoshi, kita shinsuke

title says it all

Kita Shinsuke

Kita is your childhood friend

The moment the two of you were introduced to each other by your grandmothers, you instantly clicked

Same as through with him, you loved spending your time being productive and following a certain routine so it's no question that as you both grew up, you started gaining romantic feelings towards him

You've been thinking of confessing but never really had the chance because he was always busy with volleyball practice

So when you finally managed to get some alone time, you didn't hesitate to voice out your feelings, not knowing that the answer you're hoping for isn't the answer you're going to get

"You're staring again."

You snapped out of your thoughts when Kita stopped infront of you, his eyebrows furrowing as he studied your face.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, uh, yes! I'm sorry. I was just thinking," you answered sheepishly while scratching the back of your head.

You mentally cursed yourself for spacing out on him. This is the only chance you're getting and you can't afford to waste it.

"About what?" Shinsuke asked as you both continued your walk on the way home since you only live apart each other. Plus, his grandma had always told him to never let you walk home alone especially at night.

"Huh?"

"You said you were thinking. About what?" Shinsuke gently tugged at the sleeve of your jacket, changing your positions so that he was closer to the road than you are.

You felt yourself blushing at the small gesture and looked at his hand that was still holding your jacket.

You swallowed the lump forming inside your throat and stopped walking, the act stopping Kita as well due to him holding you.

Kita looked at you worriedly and placed both hands on your shoulders, his head dipping slightly to get a closer look at your face. "Are you oka-"

"You," you answered without focusing your gaze to him. "I've been thinking about you."

When you felt him taking his hands off your shoulders, you immediately looked up. "Sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?"

The look he had is something you can't decipher but if you were to analyze it based on what you can see, it's a look you never wanted to see again.

Silence reigned the two of you, eyes staring at each other as if you're both trying to figure out what the other was thinking.

"No," Kita said, breaking the silence. "But it's best if we don't discuss the issue any further."

At that, he faced forward and continued walking as if nothing happened but as you stared at his back, you realized that somehow, he knew what you were trying to imply.

And the sad part is that he chose to ignore it and act unbothered as if he didn't just indirectly broke your heart.

Once you reached your destination, you faced him with an anxious smile and Kita didn't fail to notice this, as well as your habit of shifting from foot to foot whenever you wanted to say something.

"I like you, Shin," you blurted out nervously, your heart beating erratically and your palms becoming sweaty. "I don't know when it started but suddenly, I just woke up and realized that what I'm feeling towards you is no longer within the range of friendship. It's something more and I just wanted to let you know."

"I am well aware of that but I'm sorry, y/n. I can't return your feelings."

You bit your lower lip to hold in your tears and as much as you wanted to shout at him to accept your confession, you can't just force someone to love you back because it doesn’t work that way.

"Geez, can't you even say it gently?" you said with a forced chuckle. "Don't worry, I won't hold any grudges."

You let out a sigh before looking up at him and Kita was surprised to see that there are no traces of anger. He expected you to lash out but it seemed like he was wrong.

"I'll see you tomorrow then. Don't overwork yourself, okay?" With that, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss on his cheek before turning around to cross the road.

Kita could only stare at you as he watched you enter your household, your figure vanishing from his sight as the door finally closed.

Kita is a practical man.

He knows how to separate what is right from what is wrong.

Because of this, people often see him as someone who's perfect, sometimes even being compared to a robot due to his nature. But Kita is far from perfect, and he knew that.

Because as he laid in his bed that night, he realized that he just made a big, wrong decision, and he had nobody but himself to blame.

Kita didn't know if he should be happy or not. Actually, he should be happy. After all, he just rejected you and still, here you are, walking beside him as you made your way to school.

He kept glancing at you, observing wether you were pretending or not but he knew that it isn't in your nature to be a pretentious person. You've always worn your emotions on your sleeve which made it too easy for people to read you.

"Ah, Shin. You don't have to walk me home later," you said with a sheepish smile. "My friend is actually going to walk me home so.."

"Alright. Be sure to send me a message when you're on the way home." Despite how 'normal' it sounded, Kita was actually feeling something unpleasant inside him. It was a feeling he was well aware of but had never experienced himself.

The day progressed fast. One moment, he was entering his first class and the next, he's already checking wether all the sports equipment were put back in their proper places.

As he walked out of the gym, Kita instinctively brought out his phone to check for any messages, yours to be specific.

"Ya alright, Kita-san?" came Atsumu.

Kita simply nodded and glanced at his phone again before keeping it, disappointment filling him as he realized that you're not planning to message him at all.

Without you to walk home with, Kita decided to join his team mates, yet despite the noise his team naturally carried, Kita's mind was still preoccupied.

He thought of how you must be doing or if you arrived home safely. He thought of how different the things would've turned out if he hadn't rejected you.

He thought of you.

"Isn't that y/n-san?"

Kita's attention immediately went back to Earth, his eyes following the direction Atsumu was pointing at and just like he said, you were indeed at the other side of the road, walking alone while hugging yourself as you shivered ever so slightly.

Without any words, Kita headed towards your direction and his team mates knew better than to interfere. After all, they knew their captain well. It wasn't that hard to notice how off he was today.

"I thought I told you to message me."

You gasped as Kita suddenly appeared beside you, draping his jacket over your shoulder which immediately surrounded you with his familiar scent.

"Sorry, I forgot," you said while tugging at the end of his jacket sleeves.

"Mhm, and you also said that your friend is going to walk you home yet I don't see anyone beside you." Kita said with a serious tone.

"About that..." You scratched the back of your head as you tried to think of any excuses but you knew that lying would be pointless.

"What if someone kidnapped you? Or worse, took advantage of you? You know I don't like you walking alone especially when the sun had already set yet you still did it. Why did you lie?"

You felt like a child being scolded by your mother but instead of taking it the wrong way, you knew that Kita was only looking out for you. It was just ironic that he broke your heart yet still showed his deep concern for your being.

"It's because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable," you finally admitted. "I just confessed to you yesterday and I thought thay maybe I might make you uncomfortable if I kept sticking beside you. I didn't want to be an inconvenience."

"What are you talking about?" Kita stopped walking and turned towards you. "You were never an inconvenience and will never be one."

"Sorry, Shin."

"No. I should be the one to apologize. I made a very rash decision yesterday and ended up rejecting you. I thought that having romantic feelings towards someone would just be a waste of time but I came to realize that it isn't a waste of time if its with you," Kita said with a gentle look on his face.

You didn't speak for a few seconds and just let his words sink in, a feeling of hope igniting inside you when you realized what he was trying to say. "Do you mean that?" you asked hopefully.

"Have I ever lied to you?" Seeing you shake your head no, Kita leaned in to press his forehead against yours. "I like you, y/n."

You felt your heart beat picking up with those simple words and without waiting for anything else, you pressed your lips against his.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Being the cousin of Tendou Satori had its perks

And one of those perks is the opportunity to see Ushijima everyday

You are only a year younger than them yet despite that, you get along with the team very well

After all, it had been a part of your daily routine to always visit the school's gym

What you didn't expect, however, was to fall for a certain captain

And you, being one of the most open and honest person, confessed the moment you realized your feelings towards him

And despite being turned down several times already, you still persisted, claiming that you'll do everything to make him fall for you

But sometimes, no matter how hard you try, it just isn't enough

"Where's 'Toshi?" you asked Satori when you entered the gym, flashing a small smile to the others before sitting down on an empty bench.

"Talking to the coach." Satori looked at the plastic you were holding and grinned as he noticed what was inside. "Really, y/n-chan? You know that won't work on Ushiwaka, right?"

You just shrugged and placed the item beside you. "It's worth a try, 'Tori. Who knows? Maybe I'll finally be able to get a reaction out of him."

"Y/n."

You looked behind you upon hearing Wakatoshi. "Hi, Toshi. Did you miss me?" you said and flashed him a bubbly smile.

"You always come here everyday. I do not see any reason for me to miss you," he simply answered before taking a seat beside you, eyes glancing at the carrot stuffed toy before focusing on the court.

Satori, who witnessed the whole exchange, just laughed at you, his eyes squinting as he clutched his stomach in tears. "Well, there's your reaction," he said while still catching his breath.

"You don't have to be so mean, Toshi." You pouted and handed him the stuffed toy you brought.

"What's this for?" he asked in slight confusion while examining the carrot you gave him.

"That's a gift. Haven't you noticed? Its been 8 months since I started courting you." You grinned at him.

"Oh? Y/n's courting captain?" came Tsutomu who was wiping his sweat with a clean towel, eyes glancing at the carrot before he exclaimed, "I want one too!"

"Have it." Your eyes widened when Ushijima handed the carrot stuffed toy to Tsutomu. "I don't need it, and please stop giving me stuff from now on. They are irrelevant."

"I worked hard for that! You don't know how much token I spent just to get that from the claw machine!" You frowned at Wakatoshi and took the toy from Tsutomu who's now obviously confused with what's happening.

"Then I'll pay the amount you spent. Just stop giving me random stuff from now on. I don't need them and I don't have any feelings for you," Ushijima said with a passive voice.

You bowed your head and Satori immediately panicked, his arm reaching out to you but you only recoiled. "You're the worst, Toshi!" you yelled at Ushijima before dropping the toy on the floor and running out of the gym.

All three of them were in shock at your outburst, completely not expecting you to say such thing. You've always been bubbly around them so hearing those words from you was something they never expected coming.

"I think you made y/n mad, Captain," Tsutomu said while picking the carrot and dusting it off.

"But all I did was say the truth," Ushijima reasoned out, eyes focused on Tsutomu who was now hugging the toy that was supposed to be his.

Satori just sighed and turned around to go back practicing.

"Captain?" Tsutomu muttered with a confused look as Ushijima suddenly took the carrot from him.

"It's mine."

For the sixth time of the day, Ushijima glanced at the closed door of the gym.

It had been almost a week and he haven't caught a single glimpse of you. No visits, no 'coincidentally' bumping on each other despite having different floor levels, nor surprised bentos. Nothing. It basically felt as if you don't exist anymore.

He doesn't even know why he seemed bothered with it. Wasn't it him who pushed you away? He should feel relieved now that you were no longer bothering him, right?

Then why did it felt like he was missing you?

"Y/n's not coming," Tendou said beside Ushijima.

"I know. They haven't been visiting lately." Ushijima stared at Tendou seriously, making the red hair chuckle before raising his hands up in surrender.

"I don't have any idea where y/n-chan is. Even if I do, my lips are sealed," Tendou said before making a zipper motion.

Ushijima sighed and looked down at the ball resting between his feet. "I don't like it when they're avoiding me."

"Hm, I can't blame my cousin for doing that though. They've been pining over you for quite a while now and each time they confess, you end up rejecting them. I guess yesterday was their breaking point," Satori explained with a shrug, "Maybe you got used to the feeling of them coming back everytime you reject them that you don't know how to feel now that they stopped chasing you."

"I..like y/n."

Just as he said those words, the gym doors suddenly opened. You entered with your usual bubbly expression, a wrapped bento in hand as you made your way to them.

"I noticed that you weren't carrying your bento awhile ago so I brought it with me," you said as you handed the bento to Satori, not even bothering to spare a glance at Ushijima who was intensely looking at you.

"Y/n," Ushijima said making you turn to him.

"Yes Ushijima-san?"

Ushijima blinked at the mention of his surname. He knew that it was normal for people to call him Ushijima since it was his name but hearing you say it seemed bothering for some reason. He was used to you calling him either Toshi or Waka-kun.

"I like you, y/n," he said without hesitation.

Satori facepalmed at Ushijima's straightforwardness. Deciding to give you both some space, he stood up and walked away with his bento, leaving the two of you to talk.

You sat down and crossed your arms over chest, body facing Wakatoshi as you waited for him to explain and apologize properly.

"I'm sorry for how I acted a few days ago, I was merely being honest that time, but now I realized that I like you too... and I also did not mean to disregard your efforts just to get Mr. Carrot," Ushijima said while slightly scooting closer to you, his hand obviously trying to reach for yours.

"You named the stuff toy Mr. Carrot?" you asked with a raise of an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't need it.."

"That was a mistake. Mr. Carrot is actually sleeping in my bed as of this moment." The side of Ushijima's lips curled up when you giggled, the sound making his heart race.

"I appreciate you trying to be nice to me, Toshi, but you really hurt me back then, you know? I even had to stay away for a couple of days," you said before looking down at your lap to play with your fingers.

Panic started bubbling up inside Ushijima at your sudden silence. Swallowing the lump inside his throat, he asked you carefully, "Do you still like me? I'm really sorry, y/n. I missed your presence inside the gym. It's not the same without you. It's been too... quiet. Please give me another chance."

You lifted your head upon hearing that, clearly not expecting Ushijima to say those words in almost a pleading manner.

Ushijima took your surprised reaction as a cue to continue. He carefully took your hand in his, his hand completely engulfing yours as he intertwined your fingers. "I won't be aggressive towards you anymore. I know you said you hate me and I'm not the best at this kind of things but for you, I'll try."

You pulled your hand away from him, only to quickly wrap your arms around him, the action obviously catching Ushijima off guard. "I never hated you, 'Toshi," you mumbled with your face buried to his chest.

"Does that mean you still like me?" He said as soon as he composed himself, an unusual soft expression forming on his face when he felt you nodding.

You felt yourself melting even more to his touch when he secured an arm around your waist. "I like you so much, 'Toshi," you said as you looked up him.

"I like you too, y/n." With that, Ushijima leaned down to press a lingering kiss on your forehead.

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♥️

a/n: lately, my mind has been filled with wakatoshi ushijima

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angelasscribbles · 2 years

Text

Bad Romance Epilogue 4: Drake

Series: Bad Romance

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: Riley x Liam, Liam x Max, Riley x Max, Riley x Drake, Riley x Rashad

Paring this chapter: Riley x Drake

Rating: R

Warnings for this chapter: Language

Word Count: 1,268

A/N: This one is written in first person because I just heard Drake's voice in my head, all I did was transcribe what he told me.

My other stuff: Master List.

When I said I’d do anything for her, I fucking meant it. I killed a man for her. I was willing to die for her. I took a bullet meant for her, and I’d do it again. All of it. And more.

There’s no line I wouldn’t cross for her, no law I wouldn’t break, no length I wouldn’t go to in order to protect her, defend her, avenge her. I might be a little insane when it comes to her, but I don’t care. She’s the only thing that matters. She’s everything. At least to me she is. And she’s mine.

Mine to protect, mine to safeguard, mine to love. Mine to obsess about, mine to dream about when she’s not with me and mine to hold close when she is. And yes, I’m dead fucking serious when I say I would end someone over her and not think twice about it. In fact, I have.

Yeah, I know she has a husband, my best friend no less. The fucking king of the country I grew up in. Which makes her the queen. I don’t mean figuratively, she’s the literal fucking queen. My queen. And Liam’s.

I guess it is both literal and figurative. Because her being the queen is a separate thing from her being my queen. As in, I would do anything for her. Does my devotion border on worship? Obsession? Insanity? Maybe. But she’s fire in my veins and I’m helpless against the feelings she ignites in me, has always ignited in me. My heart was frozen and empty before she filled it with passion and flame.

So, do I care that she has a husband, a country to run and a boyfriend that’s practically a second husband in the form of Maxwell Beaumont? No, I do not. I did, once, but I couldn’t break away. I tried and failed. The problem was that everything in me wanted her with a potency too strong to deny. I crumbled under it. Happily.

There has always been some kind of chemistry compelling us together, from the very first moment. Like a magnet, the force of attraction drawing us nearer and nearer to each other until we were circling one another like the moon orbits the earth, unable to break free from the pull of gravity. I fully expected to fall into her atmosphere and burn up until there was nothing left. But that’s not what happened.

She’s given me so much more than I ever asked for or ever deserved. She’s given me a true sense of belonging, a home. I never really had that before. Even before my father died, we were never really settled. And after…living in the palace surrounded by nobility, without either one of my parents? Well, that wasn’t it either. But now? Somewhere along the way that same ridiculously big, pretentious palace that use to feel more like a prison started to feel like home, warm and welcoming. Because she’s in it.

Valtoria is really our home, all of us. It has more of her personality in it, and I love being there. There, or the occasional time alone at my cabin, just the two of us. All of those places feel like home now. I finally realized, it’s not the structure, it’s the people in the structure that make it a home. Safe, loving, comforting. Never before had my entire body relaxed just because I walked through the door of a certain house. But it does now.

She gave me a son, named after my father. She spelled it Jaxon instead of Jackson, but it’s pronounced the same. And the kid looks just like me, anyone paying any amount of attention at all could put two and two together. She wasn’t even subtle about it. Jaxon Nolan Walker Rys. Nolan is my middle name, my mother named me after the greatest pitcher of all time, Texas Ranger legend Nolan Ryan, all-time leader in no-hitters. He was robbed of a Cy Young Award, and everyone knows it, but that’s not the point.

She certainly made my career more interesting. Guarding Riley has been an exercise in forethought, contingency planning and diplomacy. Trying to stay a step ahead of her can be exhausting. You have no idea the number of international incidents that have been narrowly avoided over the years because someone’s boyfriend, husband or son was a little too enamored of our queen. Or, sometimes their girlfriend, wife or daughter. She attracts attention wherever she goes, and she chaffs under restraint. She has always kept us on our fucking toes. It’s infuriating and frustrating is what it is. But I really wouldn’t have it any other way because then she wouldn’t be her. And I fucking love her.

I love her, and I always have. I loved her almost from the beginning. I loved her through the social season and that stupid engagement tour, through my suspension and trail, through her engagement to another man, through her marriage to my best friend. I have loved her through four decades, five children and three terrorist threats to our nation. I’m never going to stop.

She somehow, against all odds, brought me closer to Liam as well. I love him too, I don’t mean in a sexual or romantic way, but I guess I’m as close to him as I am to Savannah. Closer, if I’m being honest. None of this would feel right without him here. This is not how I imagined my life would turn out, none of it.

But somehow, even Max has burrowed his way under my skin. I like the guy. He’s not as flighty or as frivolous as I once believed him to be. I guess he was my lesson in judging people based on their station in life. I have to admit, he has a calming effect on her, and on Liam. I don’t know how he does that. Liam and I both tend to rile her up more often than not, but Max comes along and just soothes all her ruffled feathers. I never in a million years thought I’d be going to Maxwell Beaumont for relationship advice, but he’s kind of an expert on how to navigate all of….this.

I may not have envisioned this type of relationship when I was younger, but to be fair, I never envisioned any at all. Didn’t want one, didn’t think I needed one. But as it turns out, I needed her, I wanted her. It wasn’t the relationship, per se, it was the woman. And once I let go of all the preconceived notions of what a relationship was supposed to look like….the thing I had never wanted anyway, and just let ours be what it is, that’s when everything changed. Changed for the better.

So yeah, she’s given me a true sense of home, a place where I belong. She’s given me freedom and control over my career. She’s given me a family, in the form of Liam, Max and the kids. But most of all, she’s given me herself. Her body, her heart, her trust, her devotion. This woman planned and helped execute a murder for me. There is no question that her feelings for me are real and it’s hard to believe there ever was. I love her. Completely, unconditionally, maybe a little obsessively.

So no, I don’t care that she has a husband, and a boyfriend, or whatever Max is to her, exactly. I only care what I am to her, what she is to me, what we are to each other.

Everything.

#bad romance #angelasscribbles #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #trr #choices #drake walker #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance #drake x mc #drake x riley #polyamory #polycule #trr poly #polyamorous #riley brooks

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unwantedtomost · 3 years

Text

the night before — sebastian stan

sebastian stan x fem!reader

word count: 2,644 words

summary: you were invited to your ex’s wedding and despite all logical reasoning, you decided to go. now it’s the night before the wedding and you’re in the same night club with your ex. time to make some more mistakes.

warnings: angst, crying, cheating, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex.

a/n: i am going to make a part two because i want to explore this more. also, thank you so much for almost 500 notes on my first one shot! enjoy :)

The love of your life was getting married and it wasn’t to you. When you heard the news, you laughed out loud, a bit too loud for being in a quaint cafe. You thought that the girl Sebastian was dating was going to be nothing more than a rebound from you, even when you heard the news that they were engaged, you thought that it wasn’t serious. But now it’s the day before their wedding and you’re pretty sure she’s not a rebound anymore.

You wish you didn’t know what day the wedding was, but you did because you were invited. Sebastian invited you. What kind of asshole would do something like that? You know he saw it as taking the high road, being a bigger person, but it just came off as a pretentious douche bag move to show that he could be happy too. Without you. And how did this get past his fiance, Lauren? Did she want you to come?

You planned on not attending because why the fuck would you want to go? But then your friend, Emerson, talked you into it. “It’s in Hawaii,” “It’ll show him that you can still be friends,” “Rub it in their faces that you don’t care anymore.” They were all very shitty reasonings but you were drunk when you RSVP’d and even drunker when you booked the plane ticket. You had been drinking a lot in the weeks leading up to the wedding, it was the only thing that made all the nerves go away. You promised yourself that you would stop drinking so much after they were married and you intended on keeping that promise.

You had been trying your best to stay as far away from Sebastian as possible in the three-day period leading up to the wedding. It had been working well so far, until tonight. You and Emerson decided to go to a nightclub away from the resort you were staying at because you heard that that’s where the bachelor party was being held. Much to your surprise, that was false information. Now you’re starring at Sebastian from across the room with eyes wide and a jaw down to the floor.

“I thought you said they were gonna be at the resort!” You yelled at Emerson over the loud music.

“That’s what the bridesmaids told me,” she defended. “But it doesn’t even matter, we came out to have a good night. Fuck him! You can be nice tomorrow.”

You quickly started to regret every single one of your decisions you had made in the past three months. Accepting the invitation, booking the plane ticket, and leaving your hotel room tonight. You knew you shouldn’t be here but you were and you hated it.

“This was a mistake. I’m booking a plane ticket and I’m going back home. Tonight.”

“What?! You can’t do that.”

“The hell I can’t.” You grabbed your phone from your purse only to get it grabbed from your hand and shoved into Emerson’s pocket. “What the hell!”

“You’re not just going to leave.”

“Why not?”

“It’s been two years, y/n. You have been telling me that you’re finally over him for a year, that’s why we’re even here, right? Because you’re over him?”

You took in a shaky breath. No, you weren’t over him. You knew you should be, but you weren’t. You thought seeing him say “I do” would force you into moving on, finally letting him go. Now, you wanted to slap yourself for being so stupid.

“Yes,” you lie despite yourself.

“Good, so let’s go get you a drink and a hot piece of ass! And in the morning we’re going to watch as he gets married and you’re going to finally let go of him, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod.

You had to get over him, it had been two years. This was the way to do it. You would force yourself to let him go and be happy. That would make you happy … right?

You and Emerson walked to the bar, ordering shot after shot until you were dizzy. Then you ordered a long island ice tea which you did not need. After you basically chugged the drink, you made your way to the dance floor.

You changed from grinding on Emerson to random individuals and you couldn’t have cared less. Everything about tomorrow and moving on left your mind completely. Right now you were living in the moment, something you were always working to do. You could tell that the individual dancing behind you hadn’t switched for four songs, so you decided to turn around. You were hoping for it to be someone cute and nice. Someone to take you somewhere and fuck the worries away. Instead, it was Sebastian.

Your smile faded and so did his. You went still, your eyes trained on his. It felt weird to be the only people in the crowd not moving. You had lost all sense of anything, you didn’t know if you stood like that for seconds or for hours.

Something in your jumbled thoughts forced you to speak. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he yelled back. His face was unreadable at that moment, you blamed it on the alcohol but you weren’t sure if you could have deciphered what it meant even if you were sober. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, a few months, I think.” You were sure, it had been four months prior, right before you heard about the engagement. You ran into each other at a red carpet event and you tried your best to act normal.

“Do you … uh—do you want to go get a drink?”

You stood still again, silent. Your brain needed a minute to process the request. You definitely did not need another drink. “Sure.”

You followed behind Sebastian to the bar, a trip you had made with Emerson no less than an hour ago. He ordered himself a Screwdriver and you a Sex on the Beach, your favorite. You had both sucked down half of your drinks before either of you spoke.

“How are you?” He asked.

“Fine, I guess,” you replied. “How are you?”

“Good, good, really good.”

“That’s good.”

It went quiet again and even though the music all around you was blaring, it sounded only like white noise at this point. A thought came into your mind “tell him how you feel.” In a sober state, you would have shut down the thought immediately, but now it played on a loop. The chant continued to play in your head as you finished the last of your drink. You felt the tension in your body rise from your feet to the pit of your stomach, up past your throat, and to your head, making you dizzy.

“Can I tell you something?” You blurted out.

“Sure.”

“It’s loud in here.”

Sebastian chuckled, almost in relief. “Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“No,” you said, too unaware to get how cringe-worthy you were being. “Can we go somewhere, uh, quieter?”

He nodded and you took his hand and went to go find a secluded location. You weren’t going to be that asshole who jammed the bathroom door shut. Also, you were pretty sure you’d get kicked out if you did that. It took a few minutes but you finally landed your sights on a room. The door was unlocked and you realized it was a coat closet, so you picked it as your location. You closed the door before turning back to Sebastian.

The music was quieter in here, it was muffled and far away. It smelled vaguely of cigarettes but you didn’t mind too much, it was dull.

“What did you want to tell me?” Sebastian asked, voice louder than it needed to be due to how unexpectedly quiet it was.

This was it, your one time to speak your mind. You might never get another situation like this ever again. You needed to let it all out.

“I don’t think I’m over you,” you confess. “And I really don’t know if I will ever be. I know it’s been two years and you’re getting married tomorrow, but I’m still not over you. I’ve been telling myself that when I see you at that alter tomorrow, everything is magically going to go away, but I don’t know if it will.”

“Why are you telling me this, y/n?”

“Because this is the one-shot I’m gonna get. You’re getting married tomorrow morning and you need to know this. Well, actually, you probably don’t, but I need to tell you. I need to let it out or otherwise, I think I might actually fucking explode.” You took a deep breath before the words started pouring out again. “When I heard you were engaged I laughed. It was funny that you were getting this poor girl’s hopes up when we all knew that you were just going to call it off. But you never did, and I was the only one laughing. I’m pretty sure that you were my person. And I think the only reason I accepted that we were done was because I didn’t think we were actually done. I thought you were gonna come back to me. I thought one day we would look back on this and laugh because it was so stupid.”

As you talked, your throat began to feel sore, your eyes stung from the tears forcing their way down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry about everything. I should have fought for us when we had the chance and I should give up right now and—”

Sebastian cut you off by cupping your face and wiping the tears away. “Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed softly, pulling you into him. You buried your face in his chest as he softly rubbed the back of your head. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

His sweet tone made you cry harder. You wished he would have been mean. You wish he told you to get over it and move on. But he was sweet and consoling you because that’s the type of guy he was. He was the girl who consoled his ex-girlfriend on the night before his wedding. That’s the kind of guy girls want to marry, that’s the kind of guy you should have married. At least if he was an asshole, it would have easier to move on. No one gets hung up on the asshole, they get hung up over the good guy.

You pulled away from him, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand.

“Do you still love me?”

“Y/n…” he sighed.

“Tell me you don’t. God, please tell me you don’t. Tell me that you moved on and that you love her. Could you tell me that? Tell me that you never think twice about me and that you only invited me to your wedding because you honestly think we can be just friends. I need you to tell me you still don’t care. If you tell me that, I’ll walk out the door right now and you don’t ever have to see me again. I’ll wish you good luck on your marriage and I’ll be gone. Can you just tell me that? I really need you to tell me that.”

You looked up to him with pleading, puppy dog eyes. You wanted him—you needed him to tell you that it was never going to happen. You needed closure to move on.

“I-I can’t,” he confessed. “Not honestly.”

You let out a breath you were holding before pulling him closer. You kissed him deeply and passionately, you needed him. He pulled you closer, melting into your mouth. This was it, this felt right. You didn’t think about the repercussions, you couldn’t. All you could think about was his mouth on yours, his hands on your skin.

He backed you up so your back was flat against the door. The hand that wasn’t pulling you closer by the hip locked the door. He hoisted you up, seemingly with no effort as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You made haste with his button-up as he started to push your dress up your thighs. You stayed like that for a while, tugging, kissing.

After a while, Sebastian put you down. This made you nervous, was he going to leave you here? Was the kiss just one dumb, hot mistake?

Instead of walking away, he knelt down in front of you. He grabbed your panties and pulled them down your legs. You looked down at him and let out a moan at the sight of him; lips read and raw from kissing, eyes blown out with lust. He hiked your right leg over his shoulder before looking up at you, asking you if you wanted him to continue. You nodded aggressively, letting out a few whines of anticipation.

He dived in, sending you into a state of euphoria. You pressed your head against the door as your hands tugged at his jet black hair. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, trying your best to keep in whatever moans he coaxed out of you. You felt you were nearing your high, but he pulled away before you could get there.

You let out a cry at the loss of contact. You tryed your best to pull him back to you, but he instead pushed your hands away, pinning your wrists against the door. He stood back up, form towering over your own.

“You’re so fuckin’ needy,” Sebastian stated, voice low and raspy. He undid his pants before hosting you up against the door again. He pumped his member before putting the tip at your entrance, teasing you. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, pulling him closer by his shoulders. “Please, fuckin’ need you.”

With that, he pushed in, both of you letting out loud wanton moans. You forgot what is was like to be with him. He was on the bigger end of the men you’d been with and he was by far the best. As he thrusted into you, you started to realize how much you missed him every sense of the word. You missed the way he would kiss you in the morning, you missed the way he said he loved you in the middle of a fight, and you missed the way he grunted in your ear when you would have sex.

You both held each other close as he continued to snap his hips against yours. One of his hands reached down to rub your clit, making you let out another moan. You knew you were close again and you wondered how you could finish so fast when you were with him.

“I’m so close,” you warned.

“I know baby,” he cooed. “Wanna watch you.”

You leaned your head back so you could now see each others faces. He admired how you looked all fucked out and needy. He loved how your eye brows knitted together when you were trying not to cum and he loved the way you bit your lip every time he stared into your eyes. And he loved you.

“I love you, y/n,” he accidentally said, thoughts slipping into words.

Your eyes went wide but you couldn’t help but smile. “Fuck, I love you too, Seb.”

The confession brought you closer to your high and before you knew it, you were clutching his shirt in your hands as your legs cleanched around his waist. You both moaned loudly as you came, holding each other as close as possible. You stayed against the door, holding onto him tightly for a while. Then he slipped out of you and set you back down on shaky legs.

“Did you mean it?” You asked after minutes of staring into his eyes.

He hesitated, “yes.”

“Now what are we gonna do?”

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #fanfic #tfatws #oneshot

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peeterparkr · 4 years

Text

between lightning and thunder|harry styles.

summary: he’s your best friend’s boyfriend, you have feelings for him, you know the drill.

“In thunderstorms, you count the seconds in between the lightning and thunder, the more you counted the furthest the lightning had struck. 5 seconds equals 1 mile. In matters of the heart, and considering this situation. The more you counted, the closer you were.”

word count: 7k

pairing: Harry Styles x reader

warnings: alcohol mention, a bit sad, Little Prince, some songs.

PART TWO: thunderstorms and shooting stars PART THREE: stars and fate

So, here’s my first official Harry Styles one shot (kind of two-part one shot), thanks to @peachybloomss and @laurieteddy for helping me out with beta reading. Yes, there will be part two if you guys want it. I’ll see if you like it, please send feedback, reblog, be kind.

The rain pattered against the asphalt, now bright and dense, reflecting the tinkling lantern that barely gave an excuse of light to the street. There you were, in that corner, shading the sidewalk with those sneakers that used to be white. You were getting wet, that was an understatement, you knew you would have a cold the very next day. You clutched your dark blue umbrella as you waited for a miracle.

You saw the sky light up and counted the seconds.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

The lightning struck with such a crash it made you shiver.

It seemed like it was the worst day of your life. It probably wasn't, but that's how it felt. It is difficult to understand why a relationship ends. It’s even more difficult to understand when you’re an outsider. You were not one, though, not really. You wished you were.

Your best friend’s boyfriend, now ex. Probably ex.

Harry.

You saw him, right outside of the building where you were supposed to be in, leaning to give a shoulder to your friend. You would, of course.

But you wondered what would happen if you didn’t. If you instead went to him. Of course the imagination can go as wild as we let it go but this was just not what you needed.

Harry.

It felt weird, and you didn’t know if she’d seen her. He was pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to breathe in. They’d probably had another fight. One of those loud arguments where both of them made absolutely no sense at all. The relationship both of them were fighting for but there was barely any relationship to be saved at all.

Harry.

There are secrets in life we all like to keep. This was one you’d kept for a long while right now.

But you didn't know how longer you could keep it. You were in love with your best friend’s boyfriend. Probably ex now. Who wouldn’t be?

It was the same old story, coming of age kind of story with no happy ending whatsoever and which led to this absolute mess, with every day your feelings growing deeper. It was your fault for becoming so close to him.

You saw him again, cursing at the rain as his hair was soaking, he only cursed between his teeth again as he was debating whether or not to go back into the building, he kicked the puddle forming in front of him and groaned. That’s when he saw you.

With your dark blue umbrella, and coat. Calmly watching him, not moving, not doing anything at all.

You wondered if he knew.

If he’d ever notice how your eyes brightened up when he was in the room. Maybe he had, all those years, with you in the shadows.

When you met him, him sitting down with some friends, they’d introduced you to one of his, and Sierra had insisted on pairing you up with that guy. Teenage years, when one escapes to parties and tries not to come back home drunk for your parents to notice. A Halloween party, you’d dressed up as Wednesday Addams, he’d dressed up as Elton John.

You had noticed him first, his green eyes had crossed with yours. It wasn’t really his zone, it had seemed. Sierra had caught his eyes, though.

You barely remembered anything from that party, it was like any other party from that time. Drunk teenagers, gathering around to smoke and play a bare excuse of beer pong.

It had been raining but it had stopped, that you could remember. You had gone outside, tired from the buzzing music that you could barely recognize, just loud strums and unnecessary words put together. Songs talking about material things and partying. Not feelings.

You remembered walking outside to the wet grass and you avoided some other people making out on the floor, Britney Spears making out with Frankenstein, that was something. Some other kids yelling through their phones as they assured their parents they weren’t drunk when they clearly stung like warm cheap beer.

You didn’t remember why you had walked out. But you did remember seeing him there, too.

“Got bored of the games?” He asked you, he was leaning against the wall.

There it was, the reason you went outside. He had intrigued you, why hadn’t he stayed with his friends? Why was he staring at the night sky? Was he that drunk?

You had crossed a few words with him throughout the party, nothing important or particular. Very… forgettable. You’d played beer pong against him and his friend, the one Sierra had insisted that he liked you.

But nothing too important.

However you’d seen him walk out. It had awakened something in you.

“I’m terrible at beer pong,” you admitted. “Not even risking playing.”

“That’s the fun of beer pong, though,” he commented. “Ge’ing your ass drunk enough.”

You chuckled. “Well why aren’t you playing anymore?”

“I’m too good,” he sassed. “Ain’t nothin’ fun in that,” he pointed out. “So, Wednesday Addams, huh?”

“Yes,” you smirked. “Be afraid, be very afraid.”

“You’re too smiley to be Wednesday, very pretty smile,” he grinned.

“Thanks, Elton,” you grinned. You didn’t know if the warmth in your body was from embarrassment or if it was the effect the alcohol was having on you.

He winked at you. “So, no beer pong for me.”

You rolled your eyes, and laughed a little. “I’m sure that’s not the reason why you’re here outside, your friends are having fun.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I just came here to see the sky—That sounds so pretentious.”

“It does,” you conceded. “But I’ll give it to you, it’s pretty, can’t judge you, I partly came outside for it, too.” Although you hadn’t. It was no secret his eyes had staggered in your mind for the whole night and that the constant smiling had caught your attention.

He had smiled, you still remembered it to this day. “Haven’t had a clear sky in days,” he commented.

You shrugged, “haven’t noticed.”

“You haven’t noticed,” he sounded incredibly offended, “didn’t you miss this?” He pointed at the sky, he was just slightly tipsy you could tell. “The stars?”

That had made you smile and even laugh. “Oh, yes. I missed it, I just hadn’t realized how much.”

“You hadn’t noticed how much you missed this beautiful night sky!” His movements were big, hands up in the air. He even caused some of the other teenagers to stop making out.

“Shh! You’ve interrupted them!” You pointed out as the couple walked away angrily.

“Tha’s great! Look at the sky fellas!” He reached out for them.

You laughed. “Oh my god.”

“Huh, they can be horny teens else here. Why ruin m’moment with the sky and a beautiful girl,” he grinned at you. “This only happens in the movies!” He yelled again.

You couldn’t help but blush and cling to the red cup in your hand. He was drunk.

“In the movies though, the guy isn’t as drunk,” you mocked.

“I’m not even that drunk love,” he said. “I’m just concerned how you haven’t noticed the stars.”

“I had noticed the moon was gone,” you admitted. “Bigger fan of the moon, alright?,” you said. “Right up there, see it?”

“She’s gorgeous,” he grinned. You stared at it, bright and round, and you turned to him shining bright enough in his nose. “She’s the love of my life,” he stated.

You had chuckled. “It’s a shame she disappears once every month.”

“She’s reborn,” he chuckled. “Maybe we should learn from ‘er, huh?”

“Really?”

“Each month she rises up again and she’s beautiful in each one of her stages,” he commented, “no matter if she’s on her way to the darkness, she’s stunning.”

You only scrunched your nose. “We’re getting a bit too poetic, are we?”

He laughed. “Maybe,” he admitted.

“I’m kidding, I like that,” you’d said. “We should all be like the moon.”

“Hm, but if we were, who’d be the stars,” he commented. “It’s funny, we take the stars for granted but y’know what?” He chuckled. “Each one of ‘em is very particular.”

“No one would notice if a star was gone,” you pointed out.

“I would, the sky would look sadder,” he said. “And even if I love the moon, everyone does really, the stars are what paint the night sky so beautifully.”

“Well the moon works hard to be seen,” you grinned. “I think we should compliment her effort.”

“What about the stars? They’re so far away yet they’re freckling the dark sky,” he smiled and then turned to you.“This does feel like a movie scene, innit?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“It’s not one,” he added. “Or else you would’ve kissed me.”

You coughed, blushing. You had felt butterflies. The kind of butterflies that hadn’t disappeared in all those years. “Yeah, it’s not—Not a movie scene.”

You should’ve kissed him, though. But he hadn’t kissed you either so maybe that was the answer you needed.

“Is it the Wednesday Addams in you?” He wondered with a chuckle.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, trying to get as serious as you could.

He blushed. “What would you do if a guy worshiped and adored you? Who'd do anything for you? Who'd be your devoted slave? Then what would you do?”

“I’d pity him,” you quoted Wednesday.

He laughed. “You do know her, great.” He kept staring at the sky. “It would be great if a shooting star passed by, would add to it.”

“Shooting stars, are they like the moon?” You asked.

He chuckled. “No, they’re one of a kind and shall be treasured. If you miss your shot then it’s gone, you should take the chance when you get it.”

“Never thought of it that way,” you admitted.”hm who would’ve thought a drunken teenager dressed as Elton John would teach me of this.”

“A wise drunk teenager dressed as Elton John,” he corrected. “You’re a lil’ bit tipsy yourself huh.”

You grinned. “Yeah, just a little.”

“Besides, you proved my point!” He chipped. “You hadn’t noticed the stars!”

You smiled. “Now I will, I guess, thanks Elton.”

“I love the stars,” he pointed out. “Shame they’re barely seen.

“The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart,” you said.

“The Little Prince,” he grinned. “You know that book?”

“Everyone knows it,” you chuckled. “But yes, it’s my favorite.”

“But everyone barely does,” he grinned. “It’s my favorite book, too, read it each year.”

“Me too,” you beamed. “Helps me out when I’m lost.”

“I always learn something,” he said.

You grinned.

“I’m Harry,” he had introduced himself to you. “Harry Styles.”

And it rolled on the top of your tongue every now and then, that named you crushed and cursed. It had lingered until now. Of course his stupid name was perfect, too.

You should’ve kissed him or ran along with his—had he attempted to flirt? Was he trying that? You knew you had liked him. One of those stupid connections, like he’d said. It had felt like one, one of those coming of age films. But it wasn’t.

Short conversation that you couldn’t quite put your head to it. Didn’t make any sense, if you were honest. You should’ve kissed him, and to this day you still wondered what would’ve happened if you had.

The story of how Harry and Sierra had officially met was his favorite to tell. He’d say it over and over, how a beautiful girl dressed like Puglsey Addams, because of course best friends always match, had accidentally ran to him and he’d spilled his drink on her moments after meeting you. How he had helped her in the bathroom to clean herself and they’d instantly laughed. How he had fallen in love with her the second he’d met her.

Funny.

They had walked out of that party, they’d probably gone for a walk. You remembered it. How since that day you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

How since that day you always stared at the night sky and watched the stars.

Funny thing, he was the one to call you out for being in love with the moon and never paying attention to the stars, yet he had never noticed you. Taken you for granted.

You couldn’t blame him, after all, the moon was the love of his life.

You’d grown fonder of him, and Sierra had made sure you both got along.

“My best friend and my boyfriend have to get along.”

You shouldn’t have, though. Because with time you both were hanging out a friendship was forming, from his side. And then a growing feeling in yours.

Had he ever noticed?

Each time Sierra dragged him so you wouldn’t feel left out, but it was counterproductive because you’d fall for him. Because it seemed that his jokes were just made for you, and you couldn’t help but think that you were meant to be.

Maybe he’d noticed that time near her birthday, years ago, when he’d call you to bake cookies together for your friend. He probably had noticed then. Maybe he had felt something, too.

Licking a spoonful of cookie dough, and laughing against each other, how he would hide his smile, and how he’d give you those shy green eyes before avoiding a laugh when you’d said a very bad joke.

How both of you were tiptoeing and dancing in the kitchen, music playing loud, as you were sitting on the counter and he leaned against it, scrolling on his phone as he played songs.

“Okay, so this,” Harry had said, “this is one of my favorites,” he said before a guitar started to play.

“The Zombies, She’s not there!” You guessed quickly. “A classic, please, you have to be kidding me, play something difficult.”

“How do you know it?” Harry frowned, jokingly turning to you. “I swear—“

“I love them, what do you mean?” You chuckled.

“But you’ve guessed every single song I’ve played,” he pointed out very dramatically. “Every single one, I swear Sierra wouldn’t have guessed one.”

“Sierra has bad taste in music,” you pointed out. “I love her, but really, but she’s got great taste in cookies so she’ll love this.”

Because you knew him. Sierra dated him but you knew him. And sometimes you wondered how Sierra couldn’t really see his magic.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it, back then, how you fit so well together. How your laugh would synchronize with his and how every single joke he’d make, no matter how stupid, was funny to you. The way you’d try to hide some smiles, and how the tension would be broken when she arrived. She whom he loved.

A usual friend. Should’ve remained as friends. You still were. You felt dirty each time they looked at each other, it hurt, so much. And they talked too cute, and they were always adorable.

You had to stop thinking about him.

Except you loved him, and you had realized it, that one time, around Christmas, one of those Christmas parties that you always had with your friends in which eventually Harry had joined in. You remembered how you got his name in Secret Santa.

Cozy night it was, they were cuddling each other.

You remembered how he had opened it, Love is a Dog From Hell by Charles Bukowski, a book he’d constantly mentioned, a book he loved. He had thanked you and hugged you and it had been the perfect Christmas present.

You knew that.

You saw them, kissing under that mistletoe that he’d jokingly placed on top of them. You wished you were her. Sierra being pretty and lovely. And Sierra having him.

But then he’d decided to give everyone presents, maybe for accepting him on your Christmas party, or whatever he meant. How he was the life in the party, and how he had made you smile.

And everyone got presents, and each of them proved how much he put thoughts into it, because he really wanted to make them. How he had given that one friend some brushes so they could paint, or a new camera to that other one.

You remembered how perfectly unevenly wrapped yours was, with that silly wrapping paper that had little Santas on it. He probably had wrapped it himself, you could see how it was cut, and the tape all over it, with a hand-made bow, so pretty. It felt warm, and it felt like him. You opened it, he told you you could rip it off, and you hadn't, you had so slowly opened it, you still kept that wrapping paper to this day. The Little Prince. As if he was joking with you.

He had only winked at you, probably unaware that he was digging a deeper way into your heart.

And you kept loving him, watching him from afar as they kissed over and over again.

How you’d help her with gifts for him, when his own birthdays came around, like when you told her to give him more rings for his fingers, because you knew him. And how he would share his news with you first because he knew you’d listen.

You wondered if Sierra ever noticed he was more than the guy who had nice clothes, and the guy with that pretty smile. Did she ever stop to listen to his thoughts? Those that came at 2 in the morning. Those you’d been able to listen to at a party, where both of you were away from the crowd as Sierra was partying with some other of your friends.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Harry had asked you, that New Years party. They had kissed at midnight, of course. He had brought his guitar, a new habit that he had earned over the time. You loved every time he sang, raspy and quiet. Over the years he’d sing more and more with you, and less and less with crowds. He thought nobody wanted to listen, you did, you always wanted to listen.

You only looked up to see her, she was. Dancing as the lights were jumping around with her, the music bouncing with her. Harry had his fingers brushing against the strings, barely stroking it, as he was so mesmerized watching Sierra. You always wanted to be seen that way, you never would.

You could never be Sierra, and of course, why would Harry ever turn to love someone like you? When Sierra was so perfect and lovely.

You’d never say anything, maybe Sierra did notice. But she trusted you.

“Yeah,” you had answered. You had been cold.

He could tell, you knew that.

“You’re cold,” he pointed out matter-of-factly.

“I am,” you admitted. “Tis cold, though.”

“You’re never cold, though,” he pointed out.

“I am today.”

“I’m not cold,” he had said. “Want my jacket?”

And he had given it to you, and Sierra had seen it. And she didn’t mind. Because Sierra trusted you, and she trusted him.

So she didn’t mind when Harry had taken your hand to shove you into the dancefloor with him. Sierra had said it once: ‘he sees you as a best friend, I think he’s claiming you’.

And you remembered being silly while dancing with him, how he put his hands in fists and shook them in front of his chest, giggling to himself, and gave you that damned smile. And by then by that time you aready had your own way with him, always singing to each other, being stupid really.

Heroes by Bowie was playing, a song he loved, and you did too.

“Just for one day.”

You still thought it was your song.

And though you were the one to wear the sweater, she’d be the one to go home with him. So in love. It didn’t matter.

But life goes on, the birds sing, the sun keeps rising.

It had been a long time since you thought of him that way, he was just one more, another broken heart. And you knew it, that life does not stop, she did not either. And crying for a love that never had a chance to be sounds foolish, insensitive and useless.

At some point you did move on. Because you had to, and you wanted it to pass but then it would always come, how he’d smile at you and you’d think of it, the start that one time when you should’ve done something.

And it was weird listening to Sierra talk about him, she was so desperately in love with him. That’s what mattered, they made each other happy. And so, so happy. And though it hurt, you knew it had to be that way.

You were the one to listen to both of them, whenever they had a small fight or whatever, both sides. You usually agreed with both, honestly, but always took Sierra’s side. She was your best friend, after all.

And you couldn’t tell the world that he made you oh so happy, and you new Sierra probably didn’t even think of it, because you weren’t obvious and you had dates of your own, you dated other people of course, but you always ended up wondering what would happen between you and Harry.

It probably didn’t ever occur to Sierra. Not to Harry either, probably. Because everything was so platonic. Like when he picked you up in the middle of the night just because he wanted to drive around the city, whenever him and Sierra had a fight and he needed to understand her and he knew that the way to understand her was through you. And you’d end up sitting on the trunk of his car, watching the stars, listening to him, making him laugh until the sun was rising.

You knew everything about him, meaning behind every single tattoo, favorite movie, favorite song. You always had to stop yourself, so patient, but sometimes you couldn’t help it, your hand would brush his hair and you’d think about it, if you could only kiss him. Would it feel the way you dreamed of it?

An indentation between you and him, always stepping back. But then he’d smile at you and you’d want to close it. Please, please, please, just once. How would it feel? To seal the notch, close the gap.

And once it had happened. Nothing serious, really. A few years ago, around spring, nothing serious. Not at all. It was an accident.

Really was, of course.

Harry had been excited about Spring, and Sierra always said that whenever spring came around love was in the air, and Harry wanted to plan out a picnic for Sierra so of course he asked for your help.

It had been so stupid, an accident. He had asked you to go to the supermarket with him, and you were prancing around, laughing and having fun. He was always so sweet when it came to be so domestic. He was singing in the hallways as he was choosing the pastries, picking out the wine.

“Something in the way she moves,” he sang along to the song, hand movements as he reached out for a feeling with his hand, exaggerated movements as he threw his head back.

“The Beatles,” you said, matter of factly. But you knew the Beatles weren’t singing that version. It didn’t feel like a usual supermarket song, but he was moving his head and singing.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “However, they’re not the-”

“Not the ones singing, I know, that’s a woman,” you answered before he could fight back.

He giggled, “Yea, this is Phyllis Dillon,” he pointed out. “Such a song. I’m impressed, y/n, you didn’t know her.”

“Didn’t, now I do,” you grinned. “Unusual song for the supermarket.”

He watched you, tiredly with that bright smile that could light up the entire world. Sunlight.

“This is going to sound rude,” he said.

You raised your brows at him.

“But like, if Sierra and I ever break up who’s gonna keep you?” He joked.

You had laughed. “Like a dog?”

He scrunched his nose. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Oh, I’m most certain you did,” you teased.

“Did not.”

“Well I don’t think you guys will break up,” you had said, and you had meant it, because you really didn’t want them to. He made your best friend happy and your best friend made him happy. All that matters.

He smiled, “you think?”

“Yeah, I’m making sure you don’t,” you winked at him. “Also, that wine, Harold?” You asked before putting it back and choosing a better one.

“Thanks for helping me,” he had said. “Y’er always such a good friend.”

“Just making sure everything is—“

“Perfect for Sierra, I kno’,” he smirked. “And you always make sure tis perfect for me too.”

You grinned. “I'm the mastermind behind the relationship.”

And the problem was he had leaned over to kiss your cheek, you guessed in an attempt to thank you for being a friend, but it had been an accident or maybe you had turned to him, subconsciously longing for your lips to meet his. Barely a peck. Yet it had felt… electric. As if a lightning had just struck you.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

And he had backed away.

Had he felt it? That buzzing and flickering spark? That thunder You’d kissed.

In a grocery store. Planking a picnic for his girlfriend. Your best friend. This was wrong.

“I’m—sorry,” both of you had said at the unison.

“I—was going to—“

“I didn’t know—“

But both of you knew it had been four seconds. It’s funny, someone had once taught you to count the seconds between thunders and lighting. In thunderstorms, you count the seconds in between the lightning and thunder, the more you counted the furthest the lightning had struck. 5 seconds equals 1 mile.

In matters of the heart, and considering this situation. The more you counted, the closer you were. 4 seconds had been until he had pulled away.

4 stupid seconds.

Could mean a lot of things, could mean nothing.

Harry and you had stopped talking for a while after it happened. Neither of you told Sierra, but she had noticed you were avoiding her boyfriend which brought her to doubt him. No she didn’t think you had kissed. She thought you had fought or whatever she had come up with.

“Don’t you like Harry anymore? Why are you not hanging out with us anymore?” She had asked you.

“Maybe I don’t want to third-wheel anymore,” you snapped. “Enjoy your boyfriend, Sierra. I don’t have to be around twenty four seven.”

That’s when the problems had started. Not between you and Sierra, but him and Sierra. It was no secret you had been the “mastermind” behind their relationship. But you had walked out of there. However it had been coincidental, or so you told yourself. It didn’t really have much to do with you walking out.

Or had it?

You had guessed you’d feel that way each night, with the light of your phone illuminating your face while the dark room paled your tears. You’d see his initial on the screen, and doubt if calling was a choice. He was never a talker, really. He barely liked to speak up. He was more of...actions. So whenever he didn’t do anything, you knew something was up. He wasn’t... really, he wasn’t like this.

At least a text but he didn’t like texting. Nothing. His silent treatments were like others. The ‘H’ is silent, you thought to yourself.

Funny.

Sierra had mentioned he had been distanced. It was around the time you started dating Daniel. Danny.

And you saw Sierra arguing over and over through the phone, and coming back crying to your shared apartment. Giving her your shoulder to cry on.

She said that Harry had told her he wasn’t sure about it.

Which led to the first breakup.

One that didn’t really last. But you remembered it perfectly, you were at a museum, date with Danny. Nice, romantic.

And then you’d received a call, Harry. He hadn’t called you in a while and you weren’t sure why he had called you.

You had looked down at the caller ID. He wasn’t a texter, you knew that, but—you answered the phone.

“Hello? Harry?” You answered, with fear.

Danny hadn’t questioned you.

“Sierra and I broke up,” he stated.

You felt cold. “Oh.” Your first instinct had been to call your friend. See if she was okay.

“I—“he sighed. “I… can I see you?”

“I—sure but—“

“Okay, I’ll pick you up in ten,” he said. “Please don’t—“

“Oh, Harry I’m on a date right now.”

“You—what?”

“Yes I’m here with Danny,” you had said. “On a date.”

He had gone quiet, dangerously quiet.

“But-I’ll call you when I get home, alright?”

“Yeah.”

When you got home, Sierra had her door locked and didn’t want to talk to you.

“I need some time alone.”

And you had called Harry but he hadn’t answered.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four calls until he answered. Before you knew it, you were with him, driving again, he liked to drive, you knew that. To watch a sunset. As they said in The Little Prince, you see, one loves the sunset when one is so sad.

And he was sad, and he was quiet. ‘Could it Be Another Chance’ by The Samples was playing in the background.

“I guess Sierra told you,” he had said, gulping.

“She didn’t,” you said.

He hadn’t dared to look at you. It felt weird, you hadn’t talked to him a while and seeing him standing there with tears wanting to come down.

He coughed. “Well.”

“What happened?” You didn’t know.

He hadn’t answered, and there was that usual frown upon his face, thoughtful, very thoughtful and dark if he wanted it to be. He was sad or disappointed. You didn’t blame him, of course, breakups are hard enough.

“Dunno,” he admitted. Endless nightmare when he didn’t actually say what he wanted to. He actually had that habit, but he usually showed it, with his eyes.

“Then?”

“Are you afraid of me, y/n?” He blurted out the question.

“Why would I?”

“Not in the--scary way,” he said quickly. “But in the way that we both know each other,” he said. “The way that it feels off.”

“I’ve never felt off with you,” you admitted.

“That’s the thing,” he sighed. “That’s the thing,” he repeated. “I don’t get it,” he said.

“Did you feel off with Sierra?” You asked.

He didn’t answer. Maybe he should’ve.

“We haven’t talked for a while so I have no inkling on where you were standing,” you admitted. “Not from Sierra’s perspective, either.”

He shook his head. “That’s the thing,” he said for the third time. “That’s the thing.”

He had only turned the music louder, and sang along to it.

“Danny, then?” He asked eventually. “Danny?”

“Yeah,” you said.

“And do you feel off with him?” He asked.

“I don’t.”

He had clenched his jaw. “Is it going anywhere?” He asked. “Or is it like any other guy you’ve dated?”

“No.”

“You like him, right?” He asked.

You smiled, slightly, feeling warm on your cheeks. “I-”

“When someone blushes, doesn't that mean 'yes’?” He asked.

You didn’t answer.

“I’m just, I’ve been wondering I’ve always wanted to feel with Sierra the same way I feel with you,” he had said. “Not in-”

“Harry that’s-”

“Sounds mental, doesn’t it?” He sighed. “To want a friend in someone you love.”

“Someone you love should be a friend,” you said. “But I…”

“Did you ever wonder about it?”

“About what?”

He shrugged. “If that night I had ran into Wednesday instead of Pugsley.”

“You did run into me,” you pointed out. “It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Yeah, could’ve been.”

But it had you thinking. Maybe it had been stupid, but you had broken up with Danny after a few weeks of thought. Or maybe led Danny to break up with you because you had been off. And it had felt off, and it hadn’t but with one simple question Harry had made, it had you thinking.

And maybe it was stupid to think that now that Harry and Sierra had broken up you could simply get your shot, but he had been the one to say it, hadn’t he?

Shooting stars are chances. And he was one and you hadn't taken it.

Just after you’d walk in to your apartment with Sierra, you’d seen them kissing again. They were back together.

So there was your chance, gone again but then again it was stupid to think that you could get a shot, besides it was Sierra’s boyfriend.

Yes, heartbroken you were.

And it continued, for a long while. They were fine again and you had to be quiet again. Halloween, Spring, New Years, Christmas, Birthdays, parties, every single season they were there. All the time. And they were fine. For most of the time, other times not so much, and the second, and third breakup came around. Yet, they always got back together, even with all the fighting and yelling which you never understood, not really. Why would anyone stay in a relationship like that?

You guessed that at the end of the day they still loved each other, and their fights were simply stupid and they always, always, always got over them. You didn’t, you remembered them yelling and fighting and just searching for an excuse to stay together, and then they’d kiss and forget it and they’d be calmed.

It still ached, to have him around nd think of the stupid ‘what if’ that would certainly never come because even if you were given the chance, you’d never take it because Sierra was and would always be your best friend.

Did she know? Had she seen it? The way your world stopped when Harry was around? How you’d make time for him or how whenever he was around you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Your bright and true smile, and how you’d listen to every song he told you to, or how you’d always be there to listen to him, no matter the time.

How you looked away each time they kissed and how you wished you could find someone like him and yet it wouldn’t be enough because it wouldn’t be him. Because his mind was the place where you wanted all your secrets to be hidden. His lips were the only one thing that could make you feel, or so you thought, that could make you get to paradise. His voice was supposed to tell your story, and his ears were meant to listen to you.

Yet, it was Sierra.

Not you.

Sierra.

And Harry would tell her. He loved her, he lived for her, spared his entire life and love for her. And though you knew they weren’t happy, you wondered if you were allowed to tell them. Maybe you were biased, and you did hear them say how they loved each other but then it… You could tell it was off.

The moment you had given up had been barely a few weeks ago, finally given up. You remembered how he had asked for your help.

“I’m picking out a ring, y/n.”

“Another one?” You had chuckled. “You’ll need more fingers, Harold.”

“For Sierra.”

“Oh, she’s not really a ring person-” you had started.

“No, I… y/n I’m asking her to marry me,” he had blurted.

You had paused.

“Seems like it’s time,” he said. “And she’s been hintin’ it. Doesn’t get any better than this.”

It hurt. But you had gone with him.

Walking through the store, seeing rings and rings, jewelry.

“I dunno anything ‘bout marriage,” he admitted. “It’s ironic, I love rings yet this one I can’t seem to know….”

“This one is pretty,” you had pointed out at one.

He had made a face, scrunching his nose. Always making faces.

“Why are you doing this?” You had questioned.

He had looked up at you. He knew why you were asking. Because things hadn’t been right but he probably thought this was the way to make things right, but he probably wanted you to question him. Harry couldn’t be tied, yet this seemed like he was tying himself.

It made you sad, how he had lost what made him oh so beautiful, oh so perfect. His freedom. He was willing to take away his freedom. Not because marriage per se was taking away someone’s freedom but for Harry this particular decision seemed like it was.

He didn’t smile anymore, not that much, he wasn’t as silly.

“She’s my moon,” he had said.

“Yet I remember you were a bigger fan of the stars,” you had called him out.

“The shooting star passed, y/n, this is what’s meant to happen, I lost a shooting star, but I love the moon,” he said. “The moon is meant to be loved.”

“Marriage won’t solve your problems.”

“I know, but it might make me get back to my senses, I’ve spent all these years with her, I love her, that’s it, no other explanation, and that’s--”

“Harry.”

“it is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important,” he quoted.

“Love doesn’t mean wasting time.”

And the conversation had continued and you kept playing it over and over your head, and tried to understand if this was your fault, which you were sure led to the fourth breakup, to the one you probably were witnessing now.

To this day, of you standing with your dirty sneakers, with two options. To offer a shoulder or to finally try and fight for something that probably would never work. To risk everything for once.

Standing with your umbrella, watching him staring at you. Wondering what could’ve happened if it had been Wednesday instead of Pugsley. Wondering what would’ve happened if you kissed him. Wondering what would’ve gone by had you made a wish to that shooting star.

You were willing to do it. Risk it all to count the seconds between the lightning and the thunder.

part two: thunderstorms & shooting stars

part three: stars and fate

I’ll tag some friends who might like this:

@saintlavrents @annathesillyfriend @tanyalooovesyou @harrysrightchelseaboot @harrysleftchelseaboot @wholesomestyles @whatevsholland @eerieharrie @pparkeramorr

#harry styles #golden #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles ff #bl&t

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

extra 3 for Tedious Joys

A/N: For all the anons who begged for the AU in which Lao Nie's stupid idea from extra 2 about a happy WRH/Lao Nie/LQR ever after actually works out, with specific shout outs to the ones who suggested (1) WRH as a bastard cat, (2) possessiveness, (3) erotic reading, and (4) that I couldn’t write WRH being anything but thoroughly awful, because so there.

A/N: warning for adult content

“Congratulations to you both,” Lan Qiren said, looking between Lao Nie and Wen Ruohan with what he was certain was an expression of utmost bemusement. “I don’t see why your decision to enter into a formal relationship merits a private announcement to me personally.”

“Formal relationship?” Wen Ruohan echoed.

“He means that we’re actually calling it a relationship instead of just skulking around in each other’s beds,” Lao Nie explained briefly, then turned back to Lan Qiren. “We’re telling you because you’re a critical part of it.”

Lan Qiren blinked.

“If I am to enter into a – formal relationship with Lao Nie,” Wen Ruohan said, his sneer expressing his thoughts on the matter of Lan Qiren’s wording choices, “he has made it clear that engaging with you is necessary.”

“Engaging with me,” Lan Qiren said.

“As an equal partner,” Lao Nie said, nodding.

“With…me.”

“Yes.”

Lan Qiren rubbed his eyes. “Lao Nie,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, this would sound a great deal like a husband introducing his first wife to his second.”

“Equal partner,” Lao Nie said, as if that was the problem. “It isn’t a marriage, so there’s no need to rank –”

“Lao Nie, we’re not married.”

“Aren’t you?” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren gaped at him. “Once you put aside the question of sex, which I’m given to understand you’re squeamish about.”

“I’m given to understand that that is a rather critical aspect in a marriage,” Lan Qiren said archly, ignoring Lao Nie’s mutter of it’s not squeamishness, he just doesn’t like it. “At any rate, I do not live with him, I do not bear him children –”

“You support him, you understand him, you are irrevocably associated,” Wen Ruohan said impatiently. “Of all other people, he would pick you first, and you him. You can use the term ‘sworn brothers’ if you prefer, but you must admit that your – formalized relationship with Lao Nie goes well beyond the usual intimacy of mere friendship.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Lan Qiren said, although on second thought he thought that perhaps it might be true. He had loved Cangse Sanren dearly, but it was very, very different from how he felt for Lao Nie.

Wen Ruohan snorted. “This is your problem,” he told Lao Nie.

“Our problem now,” Lao Nie said peaceably. “Qiren, I have no expectation of the two of us entering into a sexual relationship –”

Lan Qiren nodded, having not expected anything like that.

“Nor do I expect you to enter into a sexual relationship with Hanhan –”

Good.

“But I would appreciate it if you made an effort to get along a little better, at least for my sake. I care very deeply for both of you and would like to have you both in my life. At once. Without murder.”

Lan Qiren eyed Wen Ruohan, who eyed him right back.

“Well,” Lan Qiren said after a while. “I suppose?”

After all, it wasn’t as if he wasn’t already sharing Lao Nie’s time with him. This would simply be a further extension of that.

Nothing more.

“If it makes you uncomfortable –”

“I’ve already made clear that I don’t mind you two having sex while I’m in the room,” Lan Qiren said impatiently. “As long as I am not personally involved, it doesn’t bother me in the slightest.”

“See,” Wen Ruohan said. “It doesn’t bother him in the slightest.”

Lan Qiren ignored him. He’d found that that was the easiest way to deal with Wen Ruohan when he was in a mood – not entirely unlike the way he dealt with some of his more troublesome students, in fact.

“What if you’re the subject of conversation?” Lao Nie persisted.

“Conversation?” Lan Qiren said, frowning. “Do you often converse while – uh –”

Wen Ruohan sniggered. “Yes,” he said. “Quite a great deal. We can be quite noisy, even.”

“I can assure you I’m already aware of that,” Lan Qiren informed him, long-suffering. Wooden walls, even with insulation, were simply insufficient.

“We’re getting away from the main point here,” Lao Nie said.

“The main point being that you wish to involve me in your sexual antics, but from a distance?”

“…basically.”

“Antics,” Wen Ruohan said, looking pained. “We’re not twelve. Sect Leader Lan, can we not agree to simply say that we wish to objectify and sexualize you as part of our relationship, but that your personal participation is not required?”

“If we wish to be pretentious about it, we can,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Ruohan blinked as if surprised that Lan Qiren had the capacity for even such a mild rebuke. “Yes, go ahead. It’s fine, I’m used to it.”

Now they were both blinking at him.

“Being objectified,” he clarified. “Even with being lusted over, fantasized about within my hearing, that sort of thing. It’s quite common, you know.”

“It…is?” Wen Ruohan said. He had now started blinking rather rapidly. “You often allow people to have sexual thoughts and conversations about you, then?”

“Oh, every day.”

“Every…day?”

“My students,” Lan Qiren explained with a faint sigh. “The majority of them prefer to imagine me as far away from being sexualized as possible, which I appreciate, but quite a few of them go so far as to end up on the other end – and of course they’re at that age when their thoughts tend to dwell on all matters connected with sex.”

“Oh,” Lao Nie said. “Your students.”

“That makes a great deal more sense,” Wen Ruohan said, nodding.

“What did you think I meant?” Lan Qiren asked, frowning at them both. “I’ll have you know that they are exceedingly indiscreet about it – in terms of conversation, or the notes they include in their books, or even in offers –”

“You’ve gotten offers?”

“Too many. I’ve refused, of course.”

“Poor children, I can’t blame them for trying,” Lao Nie mused. “You’re very commanding when you take charge of a classroom.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Wen Ruohan remarked. “Listening to Sect Leader Lan ramble on does not strike me as the most inspiring set of circumstances.”

“That’s what I’ve always thought!” Lan Qiren said. “It was always a surprise. I’m well aware that I tend towards toneless monotony – yet apparently there are people who find that attractive.”

“I would,” Lao Nie said at once, because of course he would. He’d find just about anything attractive, as long as it had the capacity to end his life…though what that said about his views of Lan Qiren’s lectures, Lan Qiren wasn’t sure. “I’d be very happy to get off to you reading out one of your lectures.”

“You are not tainting my lectures with your deviance,” Lan Qiren informed him. “I’m happy to read any spring book you like, but leave my lectures out of it.”

They were both staring at him again.

“What?” he said, suspicious.

“Would you really?” Wen Ruohan asked, leaning forward. His gaze was suddenly very intent, in a way that resembled the way he usually looked at Lao Nie. “Read us a spring book?”

Lan Qiren blinked. “If you like? I warn you, it’ll be in the same tone I do all my other readings.”

“That’s fine,” Lao Nie said. He, too, looked oddly intent. “Very good, even.”

“Very good,” Wen Ruohan agreed effusively.

“…very well then,” Lan Qiren said, now completely lost. “Go fetch one, then.”

He’d never understood what people saw in sex, and he was starting to think he never would.

Especially if they were all this ridiculous.

“You don’t actually need to keep me company just because Lao Nie told you to,” Lan Qiren said to Wen Ruohan, who was sitting across from him and refusing to leave.

“No, he won the bet fair and square,” Wen Ruohan said, looking sulky. “While this is not exactly the promise I had hoped he would extract, I will comply with his wishes to the letter.”

Wen Ruohan had probably been hoping for a kinky sex game, Lan Qiren reflected. It was a pity that the threat against Lan Qiren had come in so soon before their bet had been resolved – and that they had not yet identified who it was that had sent the threat, nor how serious it was – and Lao Nie was for some reason convinced that there were internal threats within the Cloud Recesses that needed to be guarded against.

Thus the request.

“Then I suggest you find a way to entertain yourself,” Lan Qiren finally said, looking down at the papers at his desk. He really did need to finish reviewing them all, and he had wasted enough time attempting to play host to a recalcitrant guest who didn’t want to be appeased. “I can order more tea, if you’d like…”

“No, no,” Wen Ruohan said. “I can entertain myself just fine.”

Lan Qiren was unfortunately familiar with that tone of voice, and was therefore unsurprised when Wen Ruohan began to undo his robes, albeit just enough to pull out his cock.

Personally, Lan Qiren would not find public masturbation with gratuitous leering to be entertaining, but then again, he wasn’t Wen Ruohan.

He peacefully did his work for a while, ignoring the sound of self-pleasure from a few feet away, but after a while – and it was taking a while, presumably because Wen Ruohan kept getting distracted by his irritation with Lao Nie – he couldn’t help but glance over.

He frowned.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he said.

Wen Ruohan’s hand stopped. “Excuse me,” he said. “What did you say?”

“You’re doing it wrong,” Lan Qiren repeated.

Wen Ruohan gaped at him. “Are you – you – attempting to instruct me in how to – this?”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, and Wen Ruohan’s shoulders relaxed – sanity and order returning to the world, no doubt. “I’m referring to your cultivation. You don’t have to share details, but you do use a yang-oriented cultivation method, do you not?”

“I do.”

“You have a small blockage in the meridian next to your neck,” Lan Qiren said. “It’s slowing it down. You should release it.”

Wen Ruohan concentrated, then frowned. “I sense no such blockage.”

“It’s only apparent when you’re flushing your meridians with yang energy,” Lan Qiren said. “Do both at the same time.”

Wen Ruohan scowled at him. “That’s easier said than done.”

Lan Qiren shrugged and put his papers down, standing up. “In that case, I will assist.”

Wen Ruohan’s eyes bulged slightly.

Lan Qiren walked over and settled down behind him. “Carry on, then,” he said.

“Assist with releasing the blockage,” Wen Ruohan said. “Right. Yes. That makes – more sense.”

And then he did carry on, because he was shameless like that.

Lan Qiren waited until he could see the blockage again, and then put his hands on Wen Ruohan’s shoulders.

Wen Ruohan flinched, and the energy dissipated.

Lan Qiren heaved a sigh. “Really?” he said, disapproving. “Is this the best you can do? Sect Leader Wen, please. You are a famous cultivator, far more powerful than me – I would expect your concentration to be better than this.”

“Right,” Wen Ruohan said. His voice was strangely hoarse. He started moving his hand again. “Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you, Sect Leader Lan.”

Lan Qiren huffed, and noted that Wen Ruohan shivered. Perhaps he was sitting too close, and his breath had hit the back of Wen Ruohan’s neck, exposed as he curled forward over himself. “My request from you isn’t exactly difficult,” he said, a touch of asperity in his voice. “I’m certain you’ve done it many times before, and will many times again. If you can’t even perform such a straightforward task –”

Ah, there it was.

He put two fingers against the blocked meridian and firmly pressed, wielding his not inconsiderable arm strength against the tough skin Wen Ruohan had cultivated over the years.

Wen Ruohan made a choked noise.

The blockage released, the latent tension in the muscles releasing with it, and Wen Ruohan shuddered all over – presumably the yang energy that had been knotted up in there had also released, flooding through his meridians.

“Well done,” Lan Qiren said, inspecting his work. “The flow of energy is much smoother now. You should notice an immediate improvement in both temperament and swordplay.”

Wen Ruohan huffed and sat up straight again, starting to straighten his clothing. Apparently he’d finished the self-pleasure portion of the evening as well.

“I’m much obliged to you for your guidance, Teacher Lan,” he said, and it was Lan Qiren’s turn to blink, surprised – Wen Ruohan had never used that term of address for him before. “I look forward to attending your classes with you tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to,” Lan Qiren told him, although he used the opportunity to rise to his feet and return to his desk, intent on finishing his review. “There’s hardly any danger from my students.”

“No, no,” Wen Ruohan said. “I’m interested to see you – in your element, so to speak. I was perhaps too hasty in disregarding Lao Nie’s exhortations regarding the quality of your pedagogical skills.”

“Very well,” Lan Qiren said, a little suspicious. “You understand, of course, that you would not be permitted to…?”

“Around children? I assure you that that is not one of my proclivities.”

“Good,” Lan Qiren said, even though he was well aware that Wen Ruohan’s particular character was such that the fact that something was not within his so-called proclivities would in no way stop him if he thought he could get some benefit out of it. “Very well, then. If you insist –”

“I do,” Wen Ruohan said firmly. “I promised Lao Nie, did I not? I intend to keep my promise in the spirit in which it was requested.”

Lan Qiren sighed. This would probably end up only distracting his students more…hmm. Unless he used it to his advantage.

“Would you be willing to demonstrate some array techniques?” he asked. “I know they’re your area of expertise, and there are certain philosophical points I wish to convey to my students that may be more easily expressed with a visual demonstration.”

Wen Ruohan rolled his eyes, but it seemed to lack the usual sense of malice.

“You may use me as you wish, Teacher,” he said with a smirk. “I am at your service.”

“Is there anything you actually like?” Lan Qiren asked Wen Ruohan, aware that his tone was coming across as tetchy and irritable and wholly unable to stop it.

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows at him.

“Other than myself and Lao Nie, and definitely not sex,” Lan Qiren qualified. “Your birthday is coming up, and I’m having difficulty thinking of an appropriate present.”

“My – birthday?” Wen Ruohan asked, and then started smiling in amusement. “You can just get me whatever gift your sect has picked out for the event. I’m certain someone has already selected something –”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lan Qiren said. “You’re my – lover by proxy, I suppose, or at least something resembling a friend.”

To the extent one could befriend an especially large, especially poisonous serpent, anyway. Despite this, Lan Qiren liked to think he wasn’t doing too bad a job at it.

“The least I can do is get you something you actually enjoy,” he added, scowling. “Unfortunately, despite all of our years of acquaintance, I honestly have no idea what that might be. I’m aware of your general penchant for torture, so I had initially considered a text on anatomy, but in all honesty supporting torture even by proxy makes me queasy so I had to discard that idea –”

“A text on anatomy,” Wen Ruohan interrupted, blinking in that strange way he had when he was surprised by something. Usually Lan Qiren, actually, although Lao Nie sometimes managed it, too. “You were thinking of getting me something on anatomy so that I could – torture people better?”

“It does seem to be one of the few things you like to do,” Lan Qiren pointed out. “And it’s not as if I have any treatises on clever machines one can use to extract entrails or something.”

“I’m delighted you even considered it,” Wen Ruohan said. He seemed to be fighting a laugh.

“Perhaps some medicine?” Lqn Qiren mused.

“I’m fairly sure my sect’s pharmacists are better than yours. I get all sorts of herbs to aid in cultivation from sects all over –”

“Not in aid of cultivation; I’m hardly going to gift you with your hundredth strand of ancient ginseng, am I? I meant for your anemia.”

“My – what?”

“You have a strange fixation on blood in all forms, whether the shedding in battle or merely at dinner. It occurred to me that you might be minorly anemic.”

Wen Ruohan covered his mouth with his sleeve. His shoulders were shaking.

“Listen, your only hobbies are sadism, blood, and power, and there’s nothing I can do for you on any of those scores,” Lan Qiren said, scowling. “You have to have some sort of thing that you can do –”

“I paint.”

Lan Qiren blinked. “You paint? Recreationally? Really?”

Wen Ruohan shrugged. “I used to, at any rate. It’s been – rather a while.”

For someone like Wen Ruohan, that ‘while’ might very well be as long as Lan Qiren’s life.

“I used to be rather good at it,” Wen Ruohan said thoughtfully. “Or at least I thought I was.”

“Have I seen any of your work?” Lan Qiren asked, and Wen Ruohan blinked at him. “You have art all over the Nightless City. Is any of it yours?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Privately, Lan Qiren thought that it was because personal paintings did not demonstrate the extent of Wen Ruohan’s power over others, and were thereby less satisfying, but Wen Ruohan had shifted over to looking contemplative and even nostalgic.

“You know,” Wen Ruohan murmured. “I’m really not sure.”

“Well, I can certainly get you paints,” Lan Qiren said. “And Lao Nie and I can drag you to some secluded location with a good view to allow you some time to indulge in it; I think that sounds like an excellent gift. Thank you for the idea.”

“…think nothing of it.”

“I will rip him limb from limb,” Wen Ruohan hissed. “I will tear out his stomach and feed it to him.”

“You’re overreacting,” Lan Qiren said.

“I am not,” Wen Ruohan said, like a liar. “He nearly killed you!”

Lan Qiren turned his gaze to Lao Nie, who was usually fairly good at keeping Wen Ruohan back, but his old friend had his arms crossed over his chest and a thunderous scowl fixed firmly on his face.

Apparently, he agreed with Wen Ruohan.

“It wasn’t an attack meant to kill,” Lan Qiren tried to explain. “It was only meant to paralyze –”

“Oh, so severing your spine is no big deal then?”

“You have at least a dozen tools that are designed to do just that in your basement,” Lan Qiren reminded Wen Ruohan.

“I don’t use them anymore,” Wen Ruohan growled. “You’ve taken all the fun out of it, the two of you. If I want to hurt someone, Lao Nie is more fun; if I want a challenge, Teacher Lan is always available to be at my throat; if I want to exert power, I need only remind any sect leader in the cultivation world of our relationship and they will have no choice but to submit unhappily to reality. It’s hardly worth wasting my time on some random prisoners. Now don’t try to distract me – you can’t honestly say that you want to live the rest of your life without your legs!”

“Obviously not, though one might argue that my mobility is already limited enough that adding a wheelchair would not make that much of a difference. I’m just pointing out –”

“When he’s fully healed, we’re taking him on vacation,” Lao Nie said to Wen Ruohan, who nodded furiously. “A long one. The Lan sect can cope.”

“How did we get on the subject of vacation?” Lan Qiren asked, starting to wonder if it was him or them that had lost the thread of their conversation. “I merely wished to say that your reaction is overblown. The threat has passed, and I remain alive and intact –”

“Except for the gaping hole in your back.”

“It’s been bandaged and stitched up. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, yes, you will be,” Wen Ruohan said, and finally sat down again, putting his hand on Lan Qiren’s hip to start transferring spiritual energy over. He had a truly obscene amount of qi – something Lan Qiren supposed he had to be grateful for, as it had been that, in conjunction with Lao Nie’s extraordinary fighting skills, that had saved his life. “I will make sure you’re fine. By force if necessary.”

“He was just upset –”

“Stop making excuses for him,” Lao Nie said. His voice was low and tight and angry and tired. “You’ve been apologizing for your brother since the first day I met you, Qiren. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“You were his friend once, too,” Lan Qiren reminded him.

“I was,” Lao Nie said. “There was something worth being friends with there, once. You’ve paid dearly for every mistake he’s ever made – but not this. Not this.”

“There is a boundary to filial piety,” Wen Ruohan agreed. “And in the end, he is only your elder brother. He is not entitled to your life.”

“He didn’t want my life,” Lan Qiren said. “He wanted me to suffer as he suffers. He’s not well.”

Insane, in fact. That would be the word for it.

Mad, raging, ravening – if Lan Qiren could blame a qi deviation, of the sort that tended to end Lao Nie’s family line when their meridians weren’t being constantly tended to by the most powerful cultivator alive with an obsession for keeping his lover alive, he would. That might yet be found to be the cause; he didn’t know, he wasn’t involved in the investigation.

It wouldn’t be appropriate for him to be involved, whether as the direct victim or the closest living family of the perpetrator.

Lan Qiren…didn’t know what to do with any of that.

He didn’t recognize his brother in the madman that tried to kill him simply for being happy, for being reputed to have taken on lovers. He didn’t recognize even the faintest shell of him.

“Maybe we should take him on that vacation now,” Lao Nie said to Wen Ruohan, who looked thoughtful. “Hanhan, do you still have that – that ridiculous carriage, the big wide one, the one designed to avoid any bumps…?”

“You’re not taking me away from the Cloud Recesses before the trial,” Lan Qiren said, though he wasn’t actually sure if there would even be a trial. It seemed like the sort of thing that his sect would prefer to cover up, though it might be difficult to do so with two other sect leaders aware of what had happened and angry about it. “I’m sect leader, remember?”

“Acting sect leader,” Wen Ruohan said, and for once the reminder wasn’t meant to be poisonous. “Leave the matter to your sect elders.” He paused. “Or to me, I could handle it.”

“You could commit a murder, you mean.”

“A justified murder.”

“No, Ruohan-xiong.”

“How do you put up with this?” Wen Ruohan complained to Lao Nie, who unbent just long enough to look amused. “This stubbornness.”

“Oh, come off it,” Lao Nie said. “You love it.”

“I admit to nothing.”

“You stopped trying to conquer the world for us, I don’t need you to say that you love us,” Lao Nie said. “You can give up on this murder for us, too. Now shift over, I’m taking the inside of the bed.”

“What? No! We’re not sharing a bed,” Lan Qiren said. “You’re both far too elbow-y.”

“That’s too bad for you,” Wen Ruohan said, curling up behind him, even as Lao Nie firmly planted himself in front of him, both of them careful to avoid the wound on Lan Qiren’s side and back. “This is an excellent position for dual cultivation –”

“Ruohan-xiong!”

“Non-sexual dual cultivation, Qiren, stop whining. You’re going to live a good long life whether you like it or not.”

“That’s not how that works,” Lan Qiren complained, but he knew he was already yielding.

“Yes, it is,” Wen Ruohan said in his ear. “I’ll make it be the way it works. You’ll see…”

#mdzs #lan qiren #sect leader nie #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #tedious joys #it took me so long to write a version of WRH who wasn't awful that this grew a plot #i mean #he's still awful #just - less awful?

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lucianalight · 2 years

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what did you think about season 6 of lucifer as a whole?

I was delaying answering this ask because I wanted to answer it when I watch S6 a second time...but the truth is I couldn't bring myself to do it and I doubt if I can watch it again anytime soon, or ever. Because as you might have guessed, I hate what they did with the story.

Buckle up cause this is a long post.

*If you don't want to read criticism of season 6 of Lucifer, don't read under the cut*

First of all, I think the quality and writing of S6 was the weakest amongst all the seasons, and yes that includes S3 which I've always considered as the worst season before S6. Apart from the slow pacing and how boring it could get at times, the writing and the message of episodes was so amateurishly on the nose and sometimes even pretentious. Which is sth that I didn't expect from the writers of Lucifer at all.

You see, Lucifer has always been a progressive show and its strength lied in the writers' ability to make the progressive messaging so ingrained in the flow of story that it felt proper and natural and didn't break the suspension of disbelief. In this season however, those progressive messages were too in your face. The writing lacked subtlety and as a result you felt like you're being lectured instead of watching a story. And I absolutely hate it when it happens no matter how much I agree and support the message the story tries to convey. I consider it a failure in writing because when you feel you're being lectured, it pulls you out of story and as a result you can't suspend your disbelief, it insults the audience's intelligence and it feels forced. This is specially an issue when these days writers try to include progressive messages in their story. They handle it clumsily and people think "wokeness is ruining movies" which is completely untrue. It's the terrible execution of it that ruins the story.

And it unfortunately happened with S6 of Lucifer and it baffles me considering how perfectly Lucifer has been handling serious and progressive issues until now. Quoting my bff here "It felt like they had a list and they just wanted to tick the options on their list and get them out of their way, claiming that they addressed certain issues".

The on the nose writing, didn't just include the woke messages. It even applied to what the story wanted to tell us about the characters, their arc and the plot of each episode. And it started right with the first episode with "You are a truth-seeker, I'm a wonder-seeker" that aimed to show that Lucifer wouldn't like being god because then he would be omniscient and there wouldn't be any wonder for him. They told one of the main plot points right at beginning, before showing it! Which is basically one of the issues of on the nose writing, telling things without showing them. And then at the end of story we have this line "If the devil can be redeemed then anyone can" which was completely unnecessary, not to mention that didn't really made sense considering the story we've been told of Lucifer(I will explain about this more later). The examples are a lot but I don't want to make this post longer than it already is.

But all of this, is not my main issue with S6. Before I start talking about it, let me just say that there were many many moments in S6 that I loved and enjoyed and I think all of characters' arc were done wonderfully...Except the arc and story of the main characters. Which is another sign of bad writing.

We know that all of Lucifer's issues, his pain, bitterness and anger was rooted in how his dad cast him out and neglected him, refused to talk to him all of that time and never told him he loved him. And with the arrival of Rory, we learn that Lucifer has done the exact same thing to his daughter. And in the end, it turns out that it was "Rory's choice" for things to happen that way. So Lucifer leaves his family and decides to live for thousands of years with an unimaginable torturous pain, just because in the end he could help Rory to heal and overcome her anger and pain and not fall into darkness like him...A healing that wouldn't have been necessary if the abuse didn't happen in the first place!

Not to mention that it makes absolutely zero sense that Amenadiel, the literal god, could have time to be in his son's life and Lucifer couldn't! Oh wait, Lucifer couldn't because Rory asked him to never leave hell, to let her wallow in anger and self-hatred, never knowing his father, never knowing why he left and no one telling her anything, just because in the future she gets to spend a few weeks with her family and be healed of the pain and darkness! Sth that she could have her whole life if Lucifer worked in hell as a part time job.

So the message the show actually sends in the end is that abuse and neglect are OK as long as it helps you heal! Because look what god and Lucifer did to their children, in the end helped the children to heal and find happiness!!! Which is an incredibly harmful message and against everything the show has been trying to say until now. This is blatant abuse apologism.

And you wonder why a show that handled a lot of psychological issues almost perfectly, ends with such a terrible message. The answer is incredibly disappointing.

Lucifer Showrunner Didn’t Want Season 6 To Have A Happy Ending

“The difference between [Deckerstar] and another couple is that we had immortality to play with. So we knew they would be together forever, no matter what. And we kind of like to reside in the bittersweet and gray areas. A resounding happy ending just felt wrong, but so did something tragic. So the ending was our sweet spot by having them sacrifice something, but to then ultimately end up with each other.”

So they used Rory as a plot device, made up a totally stupid reason for Lucifer to stay away for the whole lifetime of Chloe, just because they didn't want to have a happy ending! Oh yes the new trend of writers thinking happy endings are over rated and being edgy, somehow makes the story and their writing so much better!!! Which is totally wrong. It's not a sad or bittersweet ending that makes the story good. The ending has to actually makes sense with what the story has been building up and foreshadowing and what they did in S6 as the reason is for the bittersweet ending is a weak and nonsensical reasoning that easily falls apart with simple logical questions. It is simply lazy writing.

And it's another main issue I have with S6. Just to be clear my problem is not the bittersweet ending. I'm perfectly OK even with a tragedy if it's done well and makes sense in the context of the story. My favorite season is S4 and I would have been totally OK if it was the last season because the reason Lucifer left made sense both as a logical solution to what had happened and for Lucifer's character development.

If they wanted a bittersweet ending, why didn't they wrote it in a way that Rory makes the hard decision of breaking the time loop, let herself be erased forever so another version of her can have an actual happy life with her family without experiencing all that pain. That way they would lose a child and at the same time would have another chance to make things right.

Another thing to consider is Lucifer's immortality and it baffles me that people claim it was a reason they couldn't have Lucifer in Chloe's life with her aging and him doesn't. Why? Wouldn't it be wonderful to see Lucifer, be loyal and stay with Chloe no matter that she aged? Wouldn't have been beautiful if he stayed with her when she dies and flies with her soul to the afterlife?

I also didn't like how they completely erased Trixie of their lives. Why we didn't see more of her struggles after Dan's death or her reaction to the possibility of new life with Lucifer? And where was she when Chloe was in her death bed?

Another minor thing that bothered me was the recurring trope of showing a character's growth through using less "dark and edgy" clothing and makeup. This Rory in her first and last appearances.

See what I mean? This is a lazy and tired trope and I hate it. Like healing is not gonna change my taste in fashion ffs.

Now let's talk about the message at the end of the series which I said I'll talk about.

"Because if the devil can be redeemed, then anyone can."

Which is a great message, don't get me wrong, but what exactly has Lucifer is redeemed from? As we've seen since the first season he is not the evil monster everyone thought. Humanity's sins are not his fault. He didn't even enjoy torturing souls in his kingdom. We are never shown what he did that was so terrible. On the contrary what we learned was that he is a good man, misunderstood, wrongly vilified and humanity's biggest scapegoat. And his journey more than being about redemption was about healing and self-acceptance. So this sentence is out of place and doesn't really makes sense.

In conclusion, while S6 had some great and enjoyable moments, the nonsensical ending and terrible message ruined the whole story for me. Because instead of showing Lucifer breaking the cycle of abuse, they validated neglect and abuse, by making him recreate the same abuse he went through for his child, just because they didn't want a happy ending. And I'm deeply hurt and I hate how they ruined an otherwise beautiful story. I rather forget this season ever existed.

#everything has a been a disappointment this year #first loki series and then lucifer #i'm so thankful to my dear friend who introduced atla to me so i had a beautiful story as my comfort show after this #lucifer s6 #lucifer s6 spoilers #lucifer s6 criticism #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #anon #messages #long post

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akysio · 3 years

Text

Pet Names

Pairings: Professor!Zeke x Student!Reader Warnings: Implied smut, language, 18+ minors DNI! A/N: Teacher/Student relationship pls don’t read if this sort of stuff makes you uncomfortable!!!! Female pronouns are used in this too

Mr. Yeager (or just Zeke, as he’s not particularly fond of formalities) beckoned you into his class with those perfectly slender fingers of his. His hands that looked baby soft, you’d think they were calloused, veiny. But no, he maintained his perfect, piano-playing fingers for occasions like this; occasions where he gestures his students to his classroom where he’d reprimand them to hell. Not just any students, just the pretty ones.

You were bricking it. He was an exuberant, witty teacher; notable for infrequently losing his temper- but when he did, there’s nothing more terrifying than anticipating a scolding from him. He transforms from a charismatic, positive law professor to a sour, cold and ruthless individual who’s no stranger to humiliating his least favorite students in the class.

“Sir?” You entreat, shuffling into his personal office. Trophies and awards litter the shelves, books are scattered over his desk and set perfectly on the possibly largest private bookshelf you’ve ever seen. The walls are a warm gray brick, and he has a god damn, richly coloured couch in his office. Who the hell needs a couch in their office? And that’s when you remember you’re attending the most pretentious school in Marley and Paradis put together.

You’re just about to observe the fireplace, but you’re interrupted by a smack on the desk, but those perfectly sculpted fingers weren’t the source. It was a giant pile of folders, books, papers, all that jazz that made you cringe at the thought of organising them.

“Oh good, you’re here.” He rolls the sleeves of his pristine, expensive, white shirt up to his forearms. Without his blazer on, you can see the silhouette of his very muscular arms, and presumably a muscular back. “I suppose I’ll get straight to the point.”

He waits for you to nod in acknowledgement, and you hesitantly do so. You know what he’s going to say... You can tell by his tone and movements, how he’s not as playful as he usually is.

“You’re aware that you’re failing my class, right?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond, he knows the answer to that; no. “Yeah, is this a class a joke to you?” His attitude is far too calm for your liking, and you wonder if you’re gonna leave this classroom with a burst eardrum and a black eye. “You’re the only student in my class... that isn’t taking this seriously. Now be my guest to tell me what the fuck is going on, where did we lose the communication?” He’s now leaning on his desk, arms tensing and jawline prominent as he looks up at you.

You can’t help but uncomfortably fidget with your fingers, looking around the room as you think of an excuse to leave this already awkward situation.

“Eyes front,” he speaks up once more, the more he talks the more you find yourself getting pissed off. “I’m the best professor in this college, and you still slack off in my fucking lessons. You know why I’m the best? Because I work hard, I get shit done, I don’t go backwards- I go forwards. People listen to me, work for me and put efforts in my lessons or else- well, or else they’ll end up like you.” You decide to let him lecture you before you speak up, but the more he talks the more he ticks you off and you find it harder to keep yourself together. “Failing, and falling far, far behind. So, what are you gonna do now?” He says in a tauntingly slow manner, he’s trying to get a reaction- you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of giving him a piece of your mind, but you don’t know how long you can hold it in. “Don’t have many options, huh? But I’ve got some, I’ve got a lot. One of them being: I fail you right here, right now. Because sweetheart, the way you act in my lectures shows me that you got no fuckin’ intentions of passing this class. So how about that, huh? I give you the big, fat F? Because I’m done with giving a damn about you-”

“Not my fault that you’re class is the most painstakingly slow, boring atmosphere I’ve ever been in.”

It slipped out, finally.

Instead of reprimanding you some more, he laughs. The motherfucker just laughs, straight in your face. “So you have got a mouth on you, huh? God damn, I thought the other teachers were just fucking with me. I didn’t believe them when they said my fuckin’ favorite girl was running their mouth in their classes.”

“So, you bought me in here to intimidate me, get a reaction out of me and laugh in my face?” You say hotly, expression molded with disgust.

“Not exactly, you’re still failing my class.”

“I don’t give a-” you’re about to give him a piece of your mind, but he swiftly cuts you off.

“Eyes... front.” He berates through gritted teeth, “good girl. Now, sweetheart-”

Now it’s your turn to cut him off, “you won’t get around me with pet names.” You hiss, riding over his charm- as usual. He lifts off from the desk, walking infront of you.

“I can get around you any way I want.” He was approaching abnormally close to you now, too close, too beautiful. Say something, say something, say something! His eyes scanned you from your feet to your face, briefly stopping at your lips for a second. And then, to top it all off; his fingers trace your jawline, up to your chin. He abruptly tilts your face up; those infamous, ocean blue eyes baring into your own. “Cat got your tongue?” He lets out breathy chuckle when you shake your head, desperately trying not to make a wrong move. “Good, because now you’re gonna tell me how you’re gonna get out of failing this class. Because sweetheart-”

It was infuriating how he could get his own way so easily, how he could taunt you without getting a slap because he’s your superior. You glare up to his eyes, to his lips, and back up to his eyes; before you know it, his lips are on yours.

He expected hesitation, but there was none. Instinctively, your arms wrap around his neck and his hands persistently roam your thighs, your waist, your behind. The penalizing force of his lips over yours, the punishing scratch of his beard on your face. He’s edging you to his desk when you hear a sound outside. Your fight or flight kicks in, and instantly you try to escape out of the room, but his grip on your waist is far too strong.

“What?” He asks, like the cocky bastard he is.

“We can’t do this- what, what if someone finds out?” If you weren’t so shaken up, drunk on his kiss then you would have chastised yourself for sounding so stereotypical and predictable.

He looked confused. “You can’t ignore what’s going on with us. Let me take what I want...” An attempt of persuasion. It wouldn’t have worked; but his hot breath on your neck, the tantalizingly seductive last words had you at ‘let me’, because realistically you’re like putty in his hands and you’d let Zeke do anything to you.

“What is it that you want?” You dared to ask.

“I want you to pass my class.” Oh, disappointment.

He’s waiting for you to react again, but you’re struck dumb. He thinks he’s slick with his words, but his expressions give away his thought patterns- as egocentric as a child. From the small smirk that he struggles to hide, you know he has something up his sleeve.

“But the only way you can do that is by getting on your fucking knees for me.”

Your gaze finds his, and you can only think about how you want his lips on yours again. He quickly leans back as you lean in, “ah ah ah. Only thing you should be kissing is in my pants.” Oh, he was serious. “You look lost. Here, I’ll give you a clue: it’s big and hard and is begging to be sucked.”

He practically pushes you down to the ground, sliding his fingers into your hair. “It’s all yours, baby.” He growls with a mischevious grin, nodding when you slowly slip his belt open.

And that’s how your affair with your law professor started.

#zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #SIN #aot x reader

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