#i feel so small compared to a firetruck | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aquidragon · 2 years

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a new beginning

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader CW(s): canon-typical violence, angst, minor off-screen death Word Count: 3610 This idea came to me in a dream about a week ago, so I finally wrote about it. Sorry that it’s a little sad, it has a happy ending I promise! ---

You were exhausted, grime smeared across your face as your team paused to take a breath inside a small abandoned barn. Formerly, you were in a group of eight, but the number had dwindled to five within the past forty-eight hours of your mission. Your heart ached for the three lost agents, one of them was a newbie, and the other two were trying to save him. The rest of you barely made it out of the hoard alive.

Leon, your squad leader, seemed quite distressed as he surveyed the last surviving members of his squad. It was obvious he was trying to hide his biased concern towards you, as he checked the wounds of the other agents before you. You understood why, since it would be considered unprofessional if he had shown an unequal amount of concern for his romantic partner, compared to the rest of the agents in the group.

Disturbing growls could be heard right outside the barn door, which had been haphazardly barricaded with a heavy oak chest. You were seated on a wworn-outrocking chair, taking in your surroundings. It was obvious that the barn was used for some sort of shelter for previous survivors. You could see canned food scattered across the hay-littered floor, as well as other signs of life hidden amongst the clutter.

You rose to your feet, and a familiar pain in your chest exploded from your heart as you limped over to the small pile of straw. In the center of the sandy yellow grass, a small firetruck sat in the middle The paint was a brilliant glossy red, as well as a ladder was mounted on top of the toy. You crouch down, picking up the toy, feeling nauseated with grief.

There was a child hiding in here, most likely with their family as they attempted to ride out the horde of infected. You exhale deeply, trying to keep yourself together. This was a part of your job, from countless missions of infected cities across the world, you had seen scenes like this time and time again. You wouldn’t forget the girl in Raccoon City, and the desperation in her father’s voice as he begged Ada not to shoot his daughter.

You hated Umbrella for putting innocent people through such pain.

The sound of your name tugged you from your thoughts, you look up at Leon, eyes wet with tears. He frowned at the object at your hands, putting the pieces together.

“A family was here.” You whisper, trying to hide the sob that was building in your voice. “This probably belonged to a little boy.”

You hand the firetruck over to Leon, who took it quietly. You had known the man since you were both trapped in Raccoon City together. He had rescued you from the gas station alongside Claire. You still remember him from that night, many years ago, when his empty azure eyes had light still within them.

He blankly looked over the ruby red truck in his hands, jaw tight as he ran his fingers over the smooth metal of the toy. Years of this job had eroded what was left of his soul, leaving gaping holes and cracks that would be difficult to heal.

To an outsider, your partner might look cold and unfriendly. However, in your shared moments of silence together, you knew he felt the same pain as you did. His heart ached for the innocent lives that were affected by Umbrella the same way it affected yours. It was the reason why you both kept fighting, putting your lives at risk.

“I hope they’re alright,” was all the blonde could say as he gently placed the toy back in the spot where it sat before.

You nod solemnly, turning your attention to the small farm house that sat across the cornfields. It was surprising that the glass window wasn’t busted, but you weren’t complaining. Leon rests a strong hand on your shoulder, and used the other one to pull your attention away from the scenery.

“Are you okay?” He asks, voice hushed.

Your shoulders shrug slightly, meeting his eyes. “Physically? Besides some bruises I’m fine.” You look back at the truck by your feet. “Mentally? Check back later.”

Leon nods empathically, squeezing your shoulder, and continuing to cup your cheek. “We’re going to stay here for tonight, we had a heavy loss to our squad today. I’m going to page Hunningan to see what our next moves are. Do you want to take the first watch?”

You mull the option over in your head, the ache in your muscles screamed for some rest. However, you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep yet, a couple hours on guard duty wouldn’t hurt you.

“That’s fine, I can go on the first watch.” You gesture to the loft above your head. “I’ll sit up there with my gun, I can keep guard over the perimeter, it looks like there is a window up there.”

Your squad leader nods, his greasy blonde hair moving with his head. “Alright.” He pauses, hands falling back to his sides. “I love you.” His voice is barely audible, but loud enough for you to hear.

It makes you smile, even just the slightest bit. “I love you too, Leon. Go get some rest.”

Once the agent walks away, you grab the small toy truck and climb up the ladder to the loft. To your surprise, the loft is quite spacious, with enough room for you to comfortably stand. You sit by the window, which overlooked most of the perimeter of the barn. Most of the window panes were busted, but you should be safe from the height you were at.

You roll the truck forwards and backward as you look out towards the horizon. The sun had vanished from the sky, leaving the Earth in a shroud of darkness. You look back at the farmhouse, which was situated about one hundred feet away.

From the distance you were at, it seemed like the ranch-style house was still in decent shape. Besides the entirety of the windows on the first floor being busted, as well as the abundance of infected roaming the area, you would assume the white house was totally normal.

You study the outside of the building, lazily glancing over the sage-green painted shutters and black tile roof before something catches your attention. A golden glow came from one of the windows of the second floor, and a black figure standing in the center.

You gasp, digging through your utility belt for the tiny pair of binoculars that you kept on you at all times. You use them to peer closer at the window, hands trembling as you investigate the scene. You see a young boy, no older than six, looking back out the window.

His hand is pressed against the glass, brown eyes peering down at the zombies below fearfully, his cheeks stained red from countless hours of crying. What stops your heart is the tiny baby in his other arm. You scramble back down the ladder, completely neglecting the binoculars and truck.

You drop your backpack, fishing out your flashlight, and made sure you have enough ammo to fend off the undead surrounding you. The loud jumbling of objects must have woken up your fellow agents, who were all light sleepers. Leon is the one who approaches you, an expression of confusion drawn across his face.

“What are you doing?” He questions, crossing his arms, dark eyebrows furrowed. The sheer contrast of his brown eyebrows and bright blue eyes was intimidating.

“I saw survivors.” You respond simply, finding your favorite automatic weapon in your bag. “A small boy and an infant. I can’t leave them there to die.”

“You’re not going out there, not now.” The blonde’s voice is urgent, with the slightest hint of panic lurking somewhere in his tone.

“It’s dark, and there’s a fuck ton of zombies out there. What if there is a Tyrant or Lickers out there as well? Three of my squad members died today, I’m not losing one more.” Leon continues, desperation shaking his voice a bit.

You rise to your feet from your kneeling position, automatic weapon tight in your hands. “You can’t stop me, Leon. I’m not leaving those two kids out there to die!” You shout, gesturing to the general direction of the white farmhouse. “I’d be dammed if I let them die.”

Your partner frowns at you, before reaching to grab your wrist, pulling one of your hands off of your gun. “You’re not going, going out there right now is a death wish.” He swallows deeply, Adam’s apple bopping in his throat. “I’m not going to lose you.”

You pull your wrist from his grip, taking a few steps away from him. “I’m sorry, I have to.” You respond, your words felt like bile in your mouth. It hurt you to defy your boyfriend, it hurt to defy the man you had loved for years. “It’s a risk I have to take.” You step closer to the oak barricade, preparing to push it open. Your supervisor takes another step towards you, blue eyes pleading.

“Please, I can’t-”

You tear your gaze away from him, using all of your strength to shove the chest away from the door. Before anyone can grab you, you rush out of the door, running as fast as you can for the farmhouse. You ignore their protests as you dash out, already exhausted muscles burned as your legs moved.

Zombies grabbed at you as you ran, a few stepped on your path and you shot them down. Your lungs begged for oxygen by the time you reached to the hoard right outside of the house. They turned your attention towards you, with their glowing, empty, blood eyes. You shoot the ones who were guarding the door, watching as their lifeless bodies fall to the ground.

You kick the door down with little hesitation, catching more attention from the undead who were roaming around the first floor. They start to follow you as you make a beeline to the stairs. You groan in pain as your ankle catches one of the steps, and one of the undead grabs your heel. It mercilessly squeezes your limb, as it attempts to drag itself up the stairs with you.

You twist your body around, shooting a bullet through its skull, watching it fall back down the remainder of the steps. You grunt and continue running up your stairs. Your ankle shoots with pain every single time you step your right foot down, as you limp as fast as you can. You eye each door of the second story, trying to remember what floor you saw the child in.

You frantically look down the hallway, before spotting a door. Three zombies were clawing desperately, which was enough evidence that the boy was in that room. Without hesitation, you shoot down the remaining undead, dragging your injured foot behind you.

You shake the door handle, panic setting in for a moment once you realize the door is locked. You knock at the pastel pink painted door, hissing in pain as the adrenaline begins to wear off. “Please, let me in, I’m here to save you.”

A couple moments passed and zombies had tracked you down, limping over to your location. You smile painfully to yourself, aiming your sleek weapon at the incoming crowd. Maybe Leon was right, maybe you did just walk into your own demise. Right as your finger begins to pull the trigger, the door cracks open.

The young boy looks up at you, hands trembling violently. You quickly slide into the room, slamming the door behind you and locking it. You almost immediately fall to your ass, crying out in pain at the stabbing sensation in your ankle.

The child’s umber eyes are wide and watery as he takes in the sight of you. It must have been a few days since he had seen a fellow surviving human being, based on his expression of pure shock. You ignore your pain as you gently introduce yourself to the tiny boy, then ask for his name.

“My name is Michael…” He mumbles, before gesturing to the swaddle of blankets in the wooden crib in the corner of the room. “That is my baby sister, Poppy.”

You nod, putting your gun down and giving the child a friendly smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you know where your mommy and daddy are?” You try to speak as softly as possible, but you knew that the damage had been done to Michael.

It was evident in his once-innocent, brown eyes, that he had seen the carnage that no human should see. Especially not at his age.

Michael is quiet for a moment, before pointing at the door behind you, a single tear streaking down his chubby rosy cheek. “Gone.”

You already knew what his answer would be, but hearing the sheer emptiness of his voice made you want to rip off the head of whatever monster did this to this child. Your stomach churns as your feel your eyes burn with salty tears.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, trying to keep yourself together, for the sake of the children. “I’m here to save you.”

The pounding at the door makes your promise seem quite empty, you know you can run back to the barn. Not with your sprained ankle, not with a six-year-old boy, and not with a young infant in your arms. The hope that you would make it out alive dwindled with every single second.

You hoped Leon would rescue you, or anyone, really. Not for yourself, but for the two innocent souls before you.

Michael doesn’t say anything to you, instead, he simply nods and sits on the floor. You open your mouth to speak again, but a weak babble from the crib silences you.

The six-year-old rose to his feet, walking over to the crib, having to stand on his toes to look inside it. You limp over to it as well, as the baby swaddled in pink blankets looks up at you. She has wide, untarnished blue eyes, that remind you of Leon’s own eyes.

It makes you smile, but it also makes you cry. Hot tears cut across your skin like a knife as you lost all of your control. You grip onto the wooden crib, falling to your knees with sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

You press your face against the bars of the crib, as Poppy reaches toward you. You tremble a bit at your own grief as you struggle to smile back at her. You had discussed having children with Leon prior, about a year ago. You were open to the idea, but your partner had shot down the concept almost instantly.

You understood, in fact, you agreed with him. Both of you led lives that wouldn’t work with you two being parents. It just wasn’t possible with both of you working your dangerous jobs. However, seeing the infant before you made you yearn for that life you could’ve had with Leon.

A life you would’ve led if the world wasn’t so unfair.

You are so stuck in your own grief, that you don’t hear the gunshots from just outside of the farmhouse. Michael shakes your shoulder, but you are too lost to the world to be rescued. Your eyes are focused on nothing as you feel the universe crumble around you.

It wasn’t easy to keep yourself together when you were so sure that you were going to die.

Leon kicks open the door to the bedroom, which succeeds in making Poppy cry. He whips his gun around the room, fully prepared to shoot at any monsters that lurked within. The weapon instantly lowers as soon as he sees your sobbing form, as well as the small boy beside you, clinging onto you fearfully.

He calls your name, signaling to the agents behind him to clear the area with a small gesture. Slowly, he approaches you, hands up in surrender. Michael shakes your shoulder again, repeating your name.

It isn’t until Leon rests his own hand on your spine that you reconnect with reality. You look over at your boyfriend, breathing and picking up as soon as you recognize the features of his handsome face.

Square face shape.

High cheekbones

Full, pink lips.

A few moles on his cheeks, chin, and one below his left eye.

And most importantly, those bright azure eyes.

You exhale softly, reaching out to touch his filthy face, smiling slightly. “Leon.”

He nods, bringing you into a hug, and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m here, you’re alright.”

You cling onto the back of his tactical vest, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you shake against him. He shushes your apologies and kisses your cheek. He holds you until you can finally speak normally again, smiling affectionately at you as you fully come back to him.

Michael stares at you both, Poppy held tight in his arms. You gesture to the two children, holding one of Leon’s hands for stability. “This is Michael, and his baby sister Poppy. They’re the survivors I spotted.” Your boyfriend nods, smiling at them. “I’m sorry that I scared you two. I’m Leon Kennedy, I’m her boyfriend.” He gestures to you, by squeezing your hand tightly in assurance.

The brunette boy nods, sniffing loudly. “Is okay.”

Leon glances at you, clearing his throat. “I paged in Hunnigan, they’re sending helicopters now. They’re considering this mission a bust.” He sighs deeply. “They’re extracting us from here.”

You numbly nod at his information, your brain still spinning from the adrenaline crash. The pain in your ankle begins to rear its face again. You didn’t have the energy to speak anymore, fully emotionally and physically drained.

Leon seems to understand this through, years of being your partner were enough for him to know everything about you. He lets you sit in silence as he talks to Michael. You lean your head on his shoulder as he tells the boy a sanitized story about how he “rescued” you in Raccoon City.

What shocked you the most, was when your blonde boyfriend reached into this backpack and pulls out a familiar scarlet red object. The boy’s eyes light up, and he exchanges his sister Poppy for the truck in an instant. Leon holds the baby close to him as Michael excitedly reunited with his lost toy.

Only a few more minutes pass before the familiar hum of the government helicopters sounds outside, you sigh in relief. Evac from the house doesn’t take long, your fellow agents gawk over the young survivors. Praising Michael for being brave and protecting his baby sister.

You rest your head on Leon’s broad shoulder, watching as the boy excitedly told your co-workers about his firetruck. It seemed that he had a bit more of the life left in him than you had thought, which was a wonderful thing. A nurse was busy wrapping your bruised ankle as you watched the commotion. Poppy was a bit malnourished and was airlifted to a nearby hospital for more immediate treatment.

You pursed your lips, a new concern coming to mind. What would happen to Michael and Poppy? Would they be separated? Fostered? Adopted?

Your heart ached at the thought of the two children being put in separate homes, and it especially hurt for the boy. It was obvious he would have some degree of trauma for the rest of his life, something that a lot of parents would struggle to handle. This made you frown, trying to come up with a solution in your head.

“I think you were right,” Leon speaks, catching you from your thoughts.

“Huh?” You mumble, looking up at him, a bit confused. “What do you mean, Leon?” “About a family.” Your partner responds with blue eyes focused on Michael. “Our job definitely prevents us from having a typical life, but maybe it’s about time we step down from it. Live the life we were supposed to have.”

You furrow your brows at him, heart pounding in your ears. “What?”

“Let’s adopt Michael and Poppy.” The agent finally says, chest heaving with a sharp inhale. “We can quit our jobs, find something less dangerous. Give those kids the life they deserve.”

“Leon-”

He shushes you.

“Let’s get married too, I’ve been dragging you along with no ring on your finger for far too long.” The blonde continues, which makes your cheeks flush. “When you ran off to rescue the children, I was so sure I would never see you again. I couldn’t bear the idea of my life without you, and I’ve realized that we deserve so much more than this life we’ve lived so far.

Leon pauses, breathing in deeply, in preparation.

Your eyes widen as he sinks to one knee beside you, which captures the attention of almost everyone in the jet. He says your full name, both of his hands clasping one of your smaller ones. “Will you marry me?”

Your eyes water a bit, but you have cried enough tears within the past hours. Instead, you laugh. Not a mocking laugh, nor a cruel one. You smile at Leon and nod. “Of course, I will.”

The man before you smiles as well, for a second, you could see a glimpse of the man he was. Before years of bloodshed eroded his soul, before he had been traumatized by the countless tragedies of his lifetime. He presses a kiss to your hand, looking up at you happily.

“As soon as we land in DC, our new life together begins.”

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy angst #this was a lot longer than i planned #but enjoy #hurt with a happy ending yay #bone apple teeth

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ice-sculptures · 3 months

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I JUST WATCHED FEAR-O-PHOBIA AND I HAD SEEN GIFSETS ABOUT EDDIE DESTROYING HIS STUFF BUT WATCHING IT!??! WHAT THE FUCK!!??!?!?! EDDIIIIEEEEEEEEEE

I had comments about other eps (like the accidental kiss? I fastforwarded through everything relationship drama like that is NOT for me!), and probably some other stuff. But. EDDIE. EDDIE FINALLY BROKE AND /ME/? I AM ALSO NOT FEELING SO GOOD

watching the next ep and oh my god. BOY. DON'T YOU DARE SIT HER ON THE RAILING OF THAT HIGH RISE TO MAKE OUT WITH HER!!! THAT'S SO RISKY annnnnd YUP there it is! (the other luck calls weren't as nerve-wracking for me. But on this show, the tough part is knowing that sometimes people DO die)

Now I'm worried tho bc when I see the episode description only covers the small event at the very beginning of the episode? Yeah something's gonna go down. I worry for what it will be

Subtitles, I KNOW you know Ravi's name. So why did you put ROBBY? The newish guy's name was Jonah but I'm pretty sure that he's somewhere else now that Chminey's back. (also. please do not spoil if anything happens to Ravi bc I love him. Babie. I want a Ravi-centric ep but without him dying for real).

Bobby comforting Eddie ;.; I try not to make a found family a nuclear family but like.... Bobby just has Dad Vibes. They cannot be contained.

"The things that make you sad... am I one of them?" "NEVER."

Skipping forward to FOMO- how DARE they use You Are My Sunshine lyrics for this scene!!! Of them prepping the mom who fell down the shaft for transport while her girls are in the firetruck waiting and ajsdflasjdf (I love so much of the music for this show, even when it hits me in the gut) and watching the oldest girl figure it out before the others makes me so *so* sad. That poor girl.

"Why aren't the sirens on?" "Mom doesn't need them anymore" ;.; ;.; ;.;

Karen and Hen pursuing the credit card thief! Karen and Hen getting down in the CLUB! GOOD FOR THEM!!!!

Claudette! Drives! Me! NUTS! I love Bobby for being a bit of a Papa Bear about it, and Athena respecting May's wishes by telling him to stand down, too <3 I keep hoping that I'll eventually come around to it, tho I'm a little worried that might come at the expense of her dying (I'm on s5e16 May Day). bc you never know

PAINFUL BACKSTORY UNLOCKED! I knew there would be something! Things are clicking and making sense!!!

"Wait! That's my dad! I wanna ride with him." "You didn't have to lie." "I didn't. I have two dads. You're one of them."

Again, I have seen the gifsets, but it doesn't compare to watching it!!!!

I'm glad that Chimney got a chance to save Albert the way he couldn't save Kevin. I hope that helps him heal somehow ;.; And I'm glad that Albert has stuck things through so far, and now he's learned that he's ready for a different path.

I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT I KNEW THEY WOULD PULL THIS WITH CLAUDETTE!!!! I called it!!!!

i watch way too many of these kinds of shows

Also, I should not condone Taylor's jealous behavior. But like. I get it. (Also, I couldn't tell- does Lucy NOT remember the kiss? bc it feels like she doesn't remember).

Okay it is time for me to sleep! I hope you enjoy my extra long real time commentary on eps 13-16 (with a sprinkle of the eps I watched earlier today, 10-12).

let me tell you that i CANNOT watch that call with the girls and their mother. it destroyed me the first time around and i have to skip it on my rewatches unless i want to casually start sobbing out of nowhere. i adore this show's ability to make me feel so much for the victims on calls. we've known them for two, maybe three minutes and i'm still a fountain of waterworks when i press play.

HENREN IN THE CLUB!!!! i love them i love when they get to be all silly and goofy and in love. give me more happy henren in s7 please!

lucy doesn't know who taylor is to buck. she wasn't aware that buck had a gf when she kissed him, so she was confused about why taylor came up to her and started warning her about buck out of nowhere, especially when until then she'd only known taylor as the reporter who was interested in her lucky catch in 5x14 😅

also the way that so many characters get to have a second chance in may day completely RUINS me. and may calling bobby her dad? that scene is permanently tattooed in my brain 🥺🥺

i'm excited to hear what u have to say about season 6 :)

#n mhm. subtitles tend to...not be very smart. or racially conscious #answered #anon #tws anon

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universallywriting · 4 years

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Angry Steven Essay 1 - Ignoring Your Kids and the Consequences

A lot of people have been wondering why Steven is so angry, and where their sweet baby boy has gone, and I think people are struggling because they don’t understand how little they respected Steven before.

Because I don’t think that Steven has undergone a huge character shift. Admittedly, he’s angry more frequently now, but I don’t think his anger is bigger or more intense or any worse than it’s been at other points in the series. Steven’s feelings haven’t gotten bigger…

But Steven has.

I counted up all the times Steven gets angry in the series, being fairly charitable and not counting more minor moments of annoyance of frustration. I’ve got about 21 moments out of 160 episodes for the original series. Granted, that’s only once every seven episodes, but it’s not insignificant. The idea that Steven never gets angry is factually wrong.

We see his temper the first time in Steven the Swordfighter, and it’s not a very wholesome look at the boy. He’s frustrated because Pearl is gone and Holo-Pearl isn’t a good replacement. And, already, I bet you’re starting to tune out a little. Because Steven’s being a stupid little kid, isn’t he? Pearl’s coming back. He’s just throwing a tantrum.

Tantrum is the word we give to anger and sadness we don’t respect. It’s a word we use to belittle and ignore children, even when their feelings are justified.

We see something similar in Rose’s Room. He screams at the gems because they ruin the ending of his video game. And, sure that’s a bummer Steven, but it’s just a game. There’s a big space opera out there, so why are you so worried about this? And yeah, you got mad that Greg lied to you in House Guest, but he just wanted to spend time with you. It’s a cute father/son moment, really. Steven is angry, sure, but it’s just kind of pitiful, isn’t it? Poor silly kid. He’s wrapped up in his little concerns when the world is so big and scary.

But you were on his side in Warp Tour. Because he’s right this time, so it’s not a tantrum. And you’re mad at the gems because they’re treating it as a tantrum. But here’s the thing - the gems should never treat him this way. Because so far? Every single one of Steven’s fears and struggles are valid and worthy of respect. Steven isn’t pitching a fit because they brought him a scarlet firetruck and he wanted a cherry firetruck. He’s hurt. That deserves respect and attention and apologies.

In Steven the Swordfighter, he’s struggling because one of his guardians is really hurt. Not only that, but she’s hurt in a way that she can’t talk to him, can’t let him know it’s going to be okay, and in her place is the thing that hurt her. You’ll also note that Amethyst and Garnet are conspicuously absent during all of this, because apparently the boy doesn’t need comfort and care after watching Bird Mom get wasted and spending days hovering over her unhatched egg. Steven is going through all this grief and fear alone.

In Rose’s Room, Steven is denied his chance to spend time with the gems after they promised. They don’t respect or value Steven’s time. Why would they? He’s a child. And clearly he proves his time is worthless by putting so much value in his silly video game he interrupted. What’s the ending of your stupid golf game matter when the plot it rolling along, Steven? Big, important adult things are here. Drop what you’re doing. Ignore your interests. What the gems are doing is more valuable than what you’re doing every single time.

This is a general trend. Warp Tour is the perfect encapsulation of the problem, because it’s finally important enough that Steven fights to be heard. The first thing to remember about this episode is that we, the audience, are placed on Steven’s side because we’ve seen what Steven has seen. We know he’s right. The gems, however, believe what Steven is saying to be impossible. From their perspective, Steven is saying that a masked man broke down their door last night. Be honest - if you knew a kid making that claim and the door was fine, are you going to take it seriously?

The problem in Warp Tour is not that the gems don’t believe him. It’s reasonable not to. The problem is the way they react to it. Amethyst groans and complains about how long it’s taking to make Steven feel better, making him feel like a burden. Pearl aggressively confronts him with evidence, treating him like they’re in a debate and he needs to be proven wrong. That makes him feel stupid, belittled and ignored. Garnet says that it’s important to make Steven feel secure, but even that is condescending and quietly insists that Steven is being irrational.

Even at the end, Garnet is the only one who even slightly makes amends, saying she should have listened to him while also not apologizing. Pearl and Amethyst don’t make amends at all. But do you know who does say sorry four times? Steven. Steven has been taught and continues to be taught that his feelings are secondary. The things in his life that are important aren’t really important compared to the serious grown up issues.

The lack of apologies are consistent. In Keystone Motel, Ruby and Sapphire realize Steven is upset and make up with each other, but don’t make up with Steven. Don’t apologize to Steven. In Maximum Capacity, Amethyst never apologizes to Steven for shapeshifting into his dead mom. (Which, always and forever - What the hell, Ame?)

The gems brushed off these feelings and due to that, I think a lot of the audience did too. But the gems do occasionally ask Steven what’s wrong, and he shuts them down.

So why does he do that? Why doesn’t he work it out? Because they spent his entire life ignoring his problems, disregarding his fears, not knowing what’s important to him. I’ve seen a lot of talk about Gemcation and how the stuff with Connie was Steven repressing his trauma over space and… no. It’s not. It’s really, really not. It’s yet another example of how the gems (and the fandom) ignore the things that matter to Steven in favor of what they think he should care about, and it comes down to this one extremely painful moment.

Garnet: Steven, I know what’s troubling you.

Steven: You do? (huge relieved smile) Gosh. I really messed up, didn’t I?

He’s so, so excited for someone to understand him. He’s so thrilled for someone to understand what’s wrong, and value his problems and his life. And what happens? Garnet talks about Pink Diamond. He’s crushed again.The most important thing to Steven is his relationships with other people, his friends. Literally his entire problem solving method is to go make more friends. He’s not worried about getting hurt or how scary Homeworld is, he’s scared that his family is going to stop loving him because of the mistakes he made.

But the gems don’t take the time to understand what Steven truly values. They don’t take the time to respect his interests. They don’t take the time to know him. And we’re still seeing that. They don’t understand what movies he likes. They don’t understand how his taste in food has changed. They don’t realize he’s been a vegetarian for a month. That’s not a little change. And, what’s more, that’s a value. That’s something extremely important, a sacrifice you decide to make because you think it’s a big deal.

And the gems don’t know.

So why would he talk to them? If someone was so uninterested in my life they couldn’t figure out I’d been a vegetarian for a month, I wouldn’t be opening up about my deepest problems. And when have they ever guessed a problem right? When have they ever taken an interest in things that matter to him? When have they ever told him that his human half is just as valuable, that he deserves to do whatever he wants, that he doesn’t have to be the son of Pink Diamond and can actually just be Steven?

But why bother when you can just cheer him up with s’mores and camping and Dogcopter, right? Steven doesn’t get angry! Our precious baby boy pouts. He throws some tantrums. The only time his anger matters is in Warp Tour, because he’s right about these big adult things. Steven is a child and he is small and cute and funny and his voice cracks when he shouts. It’s funny, isn’t it? He’s just a little kid. Little boys get angry and they scream and they holler about stupid things, and who cares, right?

Until one day they’re not so little anymore.

And now it doesn’t seem so funny, does it? Now it’s kind of scary. Now, the little kid that you rolled your eyes at and ignored the emotions of is big. He’s got a deep voice. He’s got broad shoulders. When he screams at you, it’s not something to roll your eyes over. It’s kind of terrifying now, isn’t it? Because there’s real power in that bigger body, and even the lizard part of your brain at the base of your spinal chord knows that. There’s a real, destructive power when he screams, and you have to listen.

The gems still think he’s a kid, and the audience is starting to realize he’s not. And the audience is already scared of what a kid as angry as Steven, with no coping mechanisms, is going to look like as a grown man.

It’s really easy to ignore a little boy with a weak grasp of his strength. It’s a lot harder to ignore a man whose screams shake your house down.

Value your kid’s feelings. They’re going to be grown some day. And what’s more? They’re people. Their feelings mattered all along. Steven’s feelings mattered all along.

The only thing that’s changed is that you can’t call it cute anymore.

#steven universe #steven universe future #su #suf #su steven #steven su #angry steven essay #meta #essay

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charming-charlie · 3 years

Text

Washed Away pt. 4

Title // Washed Away pt. 4

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Baby swears but you know what, this is a cute chapter.

Summary // Who knew hanging out with Buck and Christopher for a day would lead to a life or death situation?

Word Count // 1.6k

Prompt // Hi! Can i request a fic where you were with Buck & Christopher when the tsunami hit? They could be dating or crushing on each other. If nothing comes to mind, then it’s completely fine to ignore this request! Have a nice day!’

Author’s Note // This is Part 4 of the Washed Away series. || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Tagged List // @aprildecker-blog @coffeewithoutcaffeine @daddysfavoritesexkitten @chenfordlove @comeasyoudar @carnationworld // If you want to be added or removed from the tagged list, please drop a note.

The pier. A carnival. Maybe even a first date. A tsunami. You don’t even remember what happened after that. Your adrenaline was pumping hard and fast as you raced to console Buck, who was screaming Christopher’s name over and over again. You were afraid he would rip his vocal cords if he kept that up.

The water had receded enough for you and Buck to climb off the firetruck. What was left was a flooded road that was up to your waist, but it was much more manageable compared to before.

Together, the two of you flagged down whoever you could and asked people if they had seen Christopher. Buck described the little boy, and you held onto the last shred of hope that you could, but no one saw him. Or maybe no one wanted to see him.

Given the circumstances and what happened, you were fearing the worse.

Your arm looped around Buck’s and he didn’t pull away. If anything, he needed it. He seemed so exhausted, so defeated. It was such a contrast from the happy-go-lucky guy hours earlier. This seemed like an entirely different Buck, and you shouldn’t be thinking it, but you were grateful to see more sides to him. It showed you what kind of person he really was, and if anything, Buck was truly a hero. You believed that now more than ever. He just needed to be reminded occasionally.

The two of you walked down the flooded street, looking for any sign of anything. People seemed to be finding their way, gathering their bearings, and just trying to survive. There didn’t appear to be any luck, until…

“Hey, there’s a kid under here!”

Someone shouted from across the watery road. Buck spun around so fast; you were slightly afraid he would get whiplash. He grabbed your hand, pulling you to the wreckage.

The two of you, along with a few other people, removed a heavy metal liquor sign, the ones that hang on the sides of buildings with the arrow pointing to the entrance, off a person who was trapped in the middle of the debris.

Buck was holding his breath. For a moment, there was a gleam of hope, a flash of relief.

And then it was gone.

It wasn’t Christopher at all. The kid was a girl, a teen maybe, and she was sobbing for help. A woman grabbed her arm and supported her, and the two sauntered off wherever.

Buck stopped them quickly. “Hey hey excuse me, I’m looking for an eight-year-old boy.”

“Yeah, yeah I think I saw him. He was headed over to that cupcakery place up the way. They are handing out water,” a surfer-looking dude in a wetsuit chimed in, and once again, the spark of hope exploded in Buck’s eyes.

Your shred of hope was dwindling to a thread, mere fibers, after the ordeal you and Buck had. You were trying to keep hope like Buck was, but it was hard. Every single piece of help was leading to a dead end and you did not like the idea of sticking around if the worse news actually became a reality.

Does that make you a bad person? If you didn’t hear it, it wouldn’t be true, right? Perhaps you could hold onto that mantra for a little bit. Maybe some of Buck’s hope will wash over to you. You sure could use some right now.

“Thank you,” Buck said, and he grabbed your hand. The two of you sprinted in the direction where someone thought they saw Christopher, but your sprints quickly slowed to a walk since treading in water wasn’t exactly a cakewalk.

You were silent. You must’ve been for some time because eventually Buck spoke up.

“I’m sorry,” Buck told you. It was in a whisper and you strained your neck trying to hear him over the gushing liquid around you.

“For what?” you asked. There was nothing he could possibly be sorry for. None of this was his fault. Literally, this is just some freak accident that no one could have predicted.

“This wasn’t how I wanted our first date to go,” Buck was avoiding your eyes, like he was still looking for Christopher in the flood. In all fairness, you weren’t looking at him either.

Maybe you didn’t respond quick enough, or maybe the sudden silence wasn’t what Buck wanted to hear, because the ex-firefighter continued to speak, a little louder this time, and you heard him perfectly.

“Eddie needed someone to watch Christopher and I’m practically Uncle Buck, so I accepted, but I really did kind of wish it was just me and you. Don’t get me wrong, I love Christopher, and I love hanging out with him but I kind of wanted to hang out with you. Just you. Trust me, if it were just me and you, it’d be a memorable first date,” Buck said as his head hung low.

He wiped the sweat off his brow with his free hand, although the hand that was holding yours loosened its grip against your fingers, like he expected you to suddenly pull away from him.

You didn’t and you squeezed your hand to reassure him. “I don’t know,” you said with a little smile, “as far as first dates go, I feel like this is pretty memorable.”

That seemed to put a spring in his step, and he smiled too. He glanced over at you, nudging you with his impressively muscular arm. “I hope you’re not just saying that to make me feel better.”

You teetered slightly to the side to avoid a washed-up car, allowing your body to press next to his for a second. Honestly, it felt good. Maybe you just craved a human touch and the handholding wasn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe your feelings ran deeper for Evan Buckley than you thought. Whatever the case, you knew it wasn’t the moment you wanted, so you weren’t disappointed by the sudden confliction of feelings.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. Your hair was practically dry at this point, although rough and tangled from the seawater. “I was hoping you’d ask me out. I wasn’t expecting Christopher to join us, but I like the kid.”

It was true. With Christopher’s medical problems, you got to know him very well, since you were the nurse at his school. Eddie made sure to contact you once a week, at least, just to check on his son and make sure everything was okay. You got to know the Diaz family, and that included Uncle Buck. Your life changed for the absolute better the moment Christopher walked into it. It was that boy and the family he had that provided you with something spectacular. You were holding the hand of that spectacular thing right now as the two of you walked down a flooded street.

“You like me more though, right?” Buck had a bit of a snarky smile now. That made you feel a lot better. Perhaps this conversation is distracting him from everything going on. You both could use the distraction. Plus, both of you haven’t talked to each other properly all day. Christopher was always right there.

“It’s kind of hard to not like someone that saves your life,” you shrugged it off, toying with him a little. Was it sort of wrong to tease him when the two of you were looking for Christopher? Then again, maybe that was what you both needed right now. Again, distractions can be necessary.

“Oh, that’s right. So basically, that sort of means you’re in my debt now, right?” Buck asked as he looked over at you. There was that damn gleam in his eyes. He was teasing you back and hell, he was enjoying it too.

“Let’s not get carried away with the specifics,” you answered, only to hear Buck emit a small laugh. It was good to hear him laugh again. It was good to see him smile. The cupcakery was miles down the road, the two of you had a while, and the distracted conversation was most welcomed.

“I like the specifics,” the ex-firefighter retorted. You could feel his thumb grazing the back of your hand.

“Okay fine, I’m in your debt. How in the world could I possibly pay you for saving my precious life?” you threw out your best acting skills, which were not that great to begin with, and the laugh lines around Buck’s eyes became more prominent. Your knight in shining armor was actually enjoying this.

“See, that’s all I want, a little bit of gratitude.”

“Dear Mr. Buckley, I am so incredibly grateful that you saved my ass during a freak disaster,” you began to really get into this fake acting thing, but Buck saw right through you.

He splashed you and you laughed, clinging onto him just a little bit tighter.

It was needed. After the ordeal that you two had, this was definitely needed. You didn’t know what lied ahead at the cupcake bakery a few miles down the road, and you were mentally exhausted trying to play every scenario out in your head.

During your trek, there was no one else that needed saving. Buck didn’t run into the face of danger. Instead, he was by your side, holding your hand, as you both waded slowly through the water. Occasionally you stepped on things that you did not want to know what they were, but he was there and calmed you down through it.

The sun was setting. The two of you kept walking. Maybe, just maybe, you two can save Christopher.

And maybe each other.

#evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x you #Buck #buck x reader #buck x you #9-1-1 #9-1-1 on fox #9-1-1 fic #oliver stark

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silkling · 3 years

Text

Of Newfound Knowledge and Truths of a Yesteryear

Of Moments in Life AU

———————————————————————————————————

Heatwave stood on his small training platform, punching the wooden dummy and trying to ignore the rage bubbling in the back of his processor. That morning, he’d read some of the data-pads that High Tide and Optimus had left, the ones Blades had read when Dreadwing first crashed on the island. What he’d learned had made him angry, and he didn’t understand how his teammate hadn’t been angry, too.

The Decepticons…the pads had a lot of information on what the ‘Cons had done throughout the War. The information had definitely been censored and sanitized, probably intentionally so his team wouldn’t be exposed to the full horrors of the War through the data pads, but it had still been enough for Heatwave to understand.

Dreadwing had said that the Decepticons started as a social revolution. But they were certainty far from that, now. The Rescue Force, Praxus, Iacon…they’d destroyed everything that had stood in their way, not caring if those they crushed were even involved in the War or not. It made him angry, his rescue protocols screaming with rage and loss in his processor.

As the conflicting emotions peaked, he heard the sound of pedes behind him and turned to see Dreadwing. Heatwave stepped away from the training post, the platform lowering to the ground as he crossed his arms and frowned. He liked the former Deception. He hadn’t spent as much time with him as the rest of his time, but he big bot was never violent or mean. He was a little blunt, and seemed to be a bit overly aggressive in his solutions for Heatwave’s peace-orientated processor, but he wasn’t a bad bot. At least, he didn’t appear to be.

Dreadwing seemed to notice his internal distress, because the larger bot pinned him with a considering and slightly concerned look. “You seem troubled, little one.” he rumbled.

“I’m not little.” Heatwave answered on reflex, mildly indignant. He didn’t understand why the Seeker referred to him and his teammates like that. Well, he supposed he did. They were all little, compared to him. “And…I guess I am.” He looked up at Dreadwing, a hard frown twisting his features.

“So I see.” Dreadwing, for his part, now looked ever so slightly amused. “And what is it what is causing you such distress?”

Heatwave made a frustrated noise, his vocalizer clicking in a sort of nonsense babble as he tried to think of how to explain. “I just–I don’t understand. How could they have done…everything they did?”

“What are you talking about?” Dreadwing asked, confused.

“I read the data lads Optimus and High Tide left! I learned about some of the things the Decepticons did!” he snapped, frustration and anger bleeding into his tone in place of previous confusion. Just the thought of what he’d learned was enough to make his spark sing with rage.

“Ah, now I understand.” The Seeker stated, his gaze becoming solemn and understanding. “And what did you learn, Heatwave?”

“You know what!”

“I do not. Your data pads are Autobot records, youngling. While I have no doubt there is truth there, I am also quite sure that much of that information is highly biased or just pure conjecture.”

The fire truck scowled. “Oh? So the Decepticons didn’t destroy Praxus, which was supposed to be a Neutral city?”

Dreadwing paused. “They did. It was before I joined, but they did.”

“And you’ve probably done a lot too, haven’t you?” He demanded. “Killed a lot of innocent bots, destroyed a lot of lives?” he was angry and hurting and he didn’t understand how Dreadwing could have joined a cause that was so horrible unless he was, as the human say, cut from the same cloth. But he couldn’t be, everything Heatwave had seen from the Seeker since his crash on the island directly conflicted with what the youngling had learned of the Decepticons. It just made him confused and left his spark aching.

The Seeker in question was silent, observing for a moment before he dipped his head. “I have. I have done many, many terrible things. I never killed sparklings or younglings, but I have killed countless Autobot soldiers and slain more than a few Neutral civilians on Megatron’s command.” He said softly. “I have aided in the stripping and destruction of planets, and I have directly contributed to the death of our homeworld. I do not deny any of this. I am not trying to escape my past, Heatwave, or to deny the crimes and atrocities I have committed.”

“Then why did you do them? Why are you here? Why should we let you stay if you’ve done all of that?” He didn’t actually want Dreadwing to leave, and the knew the others would want him to either. But he had just admitted to having committed horrible acts. Heatwave didn’t know what to think.

If the harsh questions bothered him, Dreadwing didn’t show it. “I did what I did because, at the time, I believed I was in the right. You know how Cybertron was in the Golden Age. You know of the emurata, of Functionism, of the caste system and how it was structured. Don’t tell me you don’t.” he said. “I rose from a system that sought to oppress me, and I turned to the only option I saw at the time. The Decepticons. It was wrong, and I have come to realize that.” He paused, tilting his head slightly. “I am here because I have little elsewhere I can go, and because I find myself growing fond of this place. I am here because Primus has granted me a second chance, an opportunity to do better and to be better, and I intend to take it.” Dreadwing took an extra moment to consider the last question. “You likely should not.” he answered. “I cannot change what I have done, all I can do it try to make amends and hope to find redemption one day.” He met the youngling’s gaze evenly. “But I would like to stay, if you would allow me the chance to pursue something better here.”

Heatwave held his gaze, then sagged and looked away. “Fine. I don’t even want you to leave anyway.” he sounded tired. “I won’t make you go. I don’t think I could. The others like you, and so do I. It’d just do more harm than good to everyone involved if I made you leave now.” he glanced up. “Just…tell me why. Why did the Decepticons do all of that? I don’t understand.” he sounded frustrated and helpless.

Dreadwing softened, his wings dipping down just slightly as his frame relaxed. “The Decepticons did not rise from nothing, little one.” he rumbled.

“What do you mean? The data pads said Megatron came out of nowhere and built them up before anyone realized what was going on.” He said, his anger abating in face of his even more confusion.

Dreadwing scoffed. “I am certain that many Autobot’s believe that.” his lips curled faintly, displeased. “That is, however, as far from the truth as you can get.”

“Then why would Autobot data pads contain that information as if it were fact?” he demanded, crossing his arms.

The Seeker hummed, tilting his head. “Perhaps, if you wish to have this discussion in its entirety, it would be best to sit somewhere?”

Heatwave paused, then nodded. “Lounge.” he said gruffly, leading the way. Once there, he dragged over a beanbag chair and settled into it comfortably, leaving the couch to the former Decepticon.

“To begin, I must ask how much you know about the Autobots and Decepticons as a whole, as well as how much you know and understand the political and social climate of the Golden Age.” Dreadwing stated.

Heatwave frowned. “I know what you told us when you first arrived.” he said, tilting his head. “I also know that the Autobot’s end goal is the restoration of Cybertron and the revival of our race. I know the Decepticons want to take control and lead Cybertron by force, and that their end goal is to put ‘Cons in charge and remove lots of freedom from bots under their rule.” he said. He crossed his arms, staring at a point on the floor as he tried to think. “I know that the Senate used to rule Cybertron during the Golden Age, and that they weren’t very fair and a lot of bots suffered, and that some of their regulations and punishments were extreme.” he tilted his head. “I know the caste system made the bots in the lower castes struggle a lot.” he seemed almost ashamed at this point. “I….I never paid the most attention to that, though. I was in the upper-middle caste, and my Function was something I already wanted to do.”

“Rescue work.” Dreadwing guessed.

The firetruck nodded. “Yeah.” he admitted.

“Then you know much of the very basics, though your knowledge lacks in the complexity and finer details of the full scope of the situation.” he rumbled. “You are correct. The Autobots fight for a restored Cybertron. But your knowledge of the Decepticons is…not entirely accurate.”

Heatwave’s engine growled with displeasure as he just grew more helplessly confused. “What?”

“The Decepticons do seek control, and they do seek to rule over Cybertron. That is true. It is also true that their goal is to see to the destruction of the Autobots. But it wasn’t always so.”

“Yeah, you mentioned they started as a social revolution.” Heatwave said, starting to calm down once he realized he’d be getting his answers, and without all the vagueness that came from Optimus whenever he tried to ask the Prime about the War.

“They did. But Megatron not rise from nothing, as the Autobots are so fond of believing. He rose from foundations that were already very deeply rooted. Functionism was a plague and the caste system was a rot that had sunk deep into the very core of our world.” he said, voice soft and somber. “It was a rot that infected only the oppressed and the beaten; it affected the lower castes and the undesirables, and those who lived comfortably in the higher castes did not feel the affects of it.”

“Undesirables?” Heatwave echoed, confused.

“Bots who did not fit into the world the Senate wished to portray. They wanted a Cybertron where every bot had a singular Function and operated according to that Function and ONLY according to that Function. They wanted a world where all those who were not of the Senate were subservient to them and obeyed them without question. They wanted a world that operated under the beliefs and celebrations and social structure they approved of. Those who did not fit into that world, and who could not fit into that world, were deemed undesirable.” He cast the youngling a meaningful look. “For the Senate, that included flight-frames. It is why they were so eager to see the spread of anti-flyer sentiments, to confine flyers, whether they were Seekers or not, to a single city. Flight-frames have a different base coding to ground-frames, and the Senate were all ground-frames. In their optics, flight-frames were a danger to their rule because flyers, by the nature of our frames, do not fit seamlessly into a Functionist society.” he paused. “It certainly did not help that the social structure, belief system, and cultural behavior of flight-frames was radically different to that of ground-frames, and that it was radically different to what the Senate was trying to enforce.”

Heatwave was silent for a long moment, considering what he was told. “But…you said the caste system was a rot. What did you mean?”

Dreadwing hummed, his fingers tapping a pattern on the couch; it was a very human gesture, one he had picked up from the Burnses without even realizing it. He had to word this carefully. Not because he wanted to manipulate the younger bot, but because it was a complex situation and a rather unpleasant one. “You said we’re were of the upper-middle caste.” he said carefully. “And that fits with your frame type and your Function. But have you never thought about the types of bots that fill each level of the caste system?” he asked.

Heatwave furrowed his optical ridges, shaking his helm. “No…” he said slowly. “I know…I know artists were considered among the lowest tier of the high castes. I know scientists and medics were high caste, and that the only bots above them were politicians.” he said.

Dreadwing smiled faintly. The young bot was starting to understand on his own. “Indeed. But those bots only made up a minority of Cybertron’s population. What of the others? What of the common laborers?”

“You mean, like, cleaners and construction bots? You’re right, they were more common than scientists, medics, or artists.” he said. “Like Boulder. He was originally a construction bot.”

He nodded. “They were indeed more common. But what caste did the Senate assign to them?”

“The…the lower caste.” Understanding was starting to bloom in Heatwave’s optics. “The lowest caste, for most of the laborer frames.” he realized. “That means…Boulder was from the lower castes.”

Dreadwing hummed agreement. “He was. If you wish to know more, then you shall have to ask him yourself. It is not my place to tell you what he experienced.” He sighed heavily. “But I will tell you that the lower castes, the bots who made up the majority of our people, did not often lead pleasant lives. They received little pay for their work, could not often afford decent fuel, if they could afford any fuel, and most of their pay would have to go to maintaining their living space. It oft left them overtired, overworked, and very, very hungry. It did not help that many of them had dangerous Functions, dangerous jobs, and after paying for their living quarters and fuel, they did not have the shanix for medical care. It meant the lower castes were forced to choose between their need for fuel and their health.”

Heatwave swallowed, his optics blown wide. “Oh.” he whispered. “But…why didn’t they do anything?”

Dreadwing looked almost melancholic at his question. “Most of the lower castes simply did not have the time or energy to fight against it. They were too tired, too hungry, to injured or sick, and were forced to focus purely on their own survival.” he stated. “And those few that did try to speak up…” he trailed off. “The Senate was not kind to dissenters, little one. If they did not use empurata on those who protested their systems, they used other means of punishment and silencing.” his tone was grim.

Heatwave chose not to ask what those “other means” were. He had a feeling he didn’t want to know. “It…it was really that bad?”

The Seeker bowed his helm. “Ask Boulder or Blades. They would know the best of your teammates.” Though, he had his suspicions about the means of Chase’s creation, and if he was right then the police bot might also know how bad the Senate could be.

“Boulder, I get. But why Blades?”

“The little flyer once told me that one of his brothers was a flight-frame. He would not have experienced the cruelty directly, as he was a ground-frame on Cybertron, but he would doubtless have experienced or seen it through his brother.”

“Oh.” Heatwave was starting to get the feeling that he didn’t know as much about his team as he thought he did. He really needed to fix that. “I guess I understand why the Decepticons rose to quickly then, if things were really that bad for so long.”

“Indeed.” Dreadwing agreed. “But there is one more thing you must understand.”

“Which is?” Heatwave was feeling a little sick to his tanks. He hadn’t been aware the situation on Cybertron had been so bad, but then again, he’d lived a good life. He’d had all the fuel he needed, he never worried about his health or safety, his living situation was pretty much always assured, and he actually enjoyed working according to his Function. He wouldn’t have experienced the rot Dreadwing mentioned, so it only made sense he wasn’t entirely aware of it. That didn’t get rid of the guilt, though.

“The Decepticons are made up almost entirely of flight-frames and those of lower castes. There are certainly some of those among Autobot forces, but the grand majority of them are Decepticon.” Dreadwing pinned Heatwave under a severe look. “What does that tell you, little one?”

“It tells me that the Autobots are mostly ground-frames and bots from the middle and upper castes.” he answered, suddenly understanding the War in a whole new light. It certainly didn’t excuse what the Decepticons had done, but now this…this made it a lot easier to understand.

“Indeed.” he agreed. “The Decepticons originally rose on the backs of bots who were beaten down and had little else to lose, bots whose only crime was to want a better life.” he said. “When the Senate, and later the original Autobots before Optimus Prime, attempted to beat them back down to their “proper place”, they fought back for the freedom that should have always been theirs.” His gaze went distant, as if remembering something from long ago. “The Decepticons were originally a freedom movement, little one. It was only as time wore on and the spilled energon between the factions soured that they lost their way and forget their original mission.”

“And now?”

“Now, because so many Autobots are ground-frame or originated from the higher castes, they do not understand why their enemy continue to fight. Certainly, many Decepticons fight because they wish to destroy the Autobots, but there are many, many more who only fight because they fear that an Autobot victory means a return to the ways of the Golden Age. It is something that Prime and his bots simply do not, and perhaps never will, understand.”

“So most of the Autobots…they weren’t bots who were hurt by the Senate.”

“No.” Dreadwing agreed. “Prime’s team on Earth is a good example. Prime himself is formerly of the lower-high caste, as he was a former Archivist. His scout was upper-middle caste, and while he was too young to receive his Function at the start of the War he would very easily have made a successful racer. The femme-bot was an Enforcer, also considered upper-middle caste. And of course, the medic. Ratchet was famed, even before the War.” The Seeker smiled sardonically. “He was quite firmly in the highest castes. All of them operated according to their Function, and all of them were content with it.” He tilted his head. “The only bot on Prime’s own team who does not fit that mold is his Wrecker, who was once a construction bot. He is the only one who might truly understand.”

Heatwave nodded, looking own at his lap. “I think I get it now. This war…it’s not going to end until the Autobots understand that stuff, is it? Because they won’t understand why most of the Decepticons keep fighting, why they started fighting in the first place.” he said, looking up to meet red optics.

“Yes. You’re very intelligent, little one. You learn fast.” Dreadwing slumped slightly, releasing a heavy vent. “You are correct. So long as the Autobots do not understand, then the Decepticons, at least those who only fight out of a fear of a return to the old ways, will never stop what they are doing.”

“You really know a lot about this stuff.”

“I am a Seeker, Heatwave. I experienced much of the Senate’s cruelty directly, as did most of my frame-kin.”

The Rescue Bot nodded, subdued. Now he understood. A part of him wished he didn’t, but he was glad he did. He sighed, meeting Dreadwing’s gaze again. “I think I owe you an apology, then. I judged you based on incomplete information.”

Dreadwing bowed his helm. “Thank you, little one. As I said, I certainly committed horrible acts, and I can never undo what I have done, but now I only make to make amends as I move forward.”

Heatwave nodded, smirking and straightening up. “I think you can. And lucky for you, we’re here to help.” he said.

Dreadwing blinked, before he chuckled, his wings lifting as the mood brightened. “So you are. Thank you, youngling.”

“We’re Rescue Bots.” Heatwave grinned. “Helping others is what we do.”

“So it is.” He agreed, looking amused. “And perhaps, I can also help you?”

He blinked, taken aback. “Me? How?”

“I have noticed you practicing with your sparring post. Your form is acceptable, and I am aware that the Rescue Force trained its Teams to have combat abilities, but I can help you improve. Your current skills will help you fight if a rescue mission were to go wrong, but if you wish, then I can help expand and improve your combat capability even beyond that.”

Heatwave blinked. “You’ll teach me how to fight.” he stated.

“I would be glad to, if you wish to learn. There may come a day when you must fight a true enemy, and if that day comes then greater combat skill may be helpful.” Dreadwing pointed out.

Heatwave narrowed his optics, considering the unsaid implications of that statement. “…you think the War might come to us.”

“Perhaps.” he said grimly. “I pray that it does not, but in the event it does I think it is better that you are prepared to fight against an enemy who truly wishes to see your spark go out.”

He nodded, gaze firming. The others would need lessons too, in that case. The Rescue Force did teach them all basic combat, in the event that they needed to fight off anything that might be threatening whoever or whatever they were rescuing, but their combat training had been pretty basic. If Dreadwing was right, and there was a possibility of Sigma-17 one day facing an opponent that wanted them dead, then they’d need to shape up. He stood, hands curling into fists as his shoulders lifted and determination burned in his spark. He stared the Seeker in the optics.

“Let’s do it.”

Dreadwing stood, a faint smile curling at his lips, and clapped a hand on the youngling’s shoulder. “I look forward to it.” he said, a hint of pride in his tone. Heatwave was so very young, but already he was shaping up to be a fine mech, a fine leader.

Heatwave himself only grinned, blue optics bright. “So do I.”

He’d learned a lot today. Not all of it had been pleasant, and a distinctly unpleasant feeling still curled in his tanks, but he was glad to learn what he had. The past was dark and violent, he’d come to realize. Cybertron’s history was steeped in shadows and darkness and Heatwave was certain that he still didn’t know everything, that Dreadwing had certainly omitted many of the worst of the details. Given all that, he really couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised that the War had happened.

Now though, wasn’t the time to focus on the past. Not Cybertron’s past, and not on Dreadwing’s past either. He tilted his helm up to turn his grin on the larger bot, leaning his weight into the hand on his shoulder and enjoying the small physical contact. Yes, he decided. Dreadwing’s past didn’t matter, not here. All that mattered was what was to come, and Heatwave was determined to meet whatever the future held for them head on.

For himself, and for his newfound family — all of them, even its newest addition.

———————————————————————————————————

Here it is, folks! The next installment in “of moments in life”! This one goes a little deeper into Pre-War Cybertron’s social/political climate. Heatwave got a massive reality check. He was sorta privileged, by the standards of the Golden Age, and he’s being forced to realize what that meant and what it blinded him to. Poor youngling, his entire worldview just got rocked.

As for Dreadwing, he now has another son! The next installment will be tHe Blades and Dreadwing one. It’s gonna be sad. They’re gonna talk about their brothers. That’s all I’ll say! I have prompts fo write for before I can get to it, so it’ll be a bit, but stay tuned, it’ll come out! Anyway, hope y’all liked it! Let me know your thoughts!

Until next time, folks!

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junicai · 3 years

Text

Relationship with NCT Dream

➣ MARK ☾ mari

½ of the best friend crew

honestly at the beginning, mark and aria weren’t very close, having only really seen each other in passing or with johnny

but after being dropped into training together the two quickly became fast friends, and now they’re borderline inseparable

you thought you knew pain? watch aria’s reaction to mark’s graduation from dream :)

mark’s the reason why aria felt confident enough to pitch some of her lyric ideas to the team, after staying up until 4am to help her make some edits so she was as confident as possible

kinda just, rests his head on her shoulder? and wraps his arms around her waist when he’s tired

mari being confused in foreigner: ???

aria said once in a vlive that she finds mark really comforting to be around - when she feels stressed or worried about something she’ll go to mark’s room and just sit on his bed for a while

aria is so close with his parents - “ahh, how’s my favourite child” “i’m doing great mom.” “no not you, how’s aria?” “wh-hu-MOM?”

you’d swear sometimes mark is younger than her, considering the pout he puts on and how much he whines when they’re not on the same team together for promotions

mark big protecc boi but also little small cuddly boi

they’re so soft for each other ( ╥ω╥ )

in one of the fancams for mark’s solo stage during superm, someone zoomed into aria singing along with him in the wings and dancing to herself with the Proudest Smile™

he’s! so! proud! of! her! constantly! she could be walking and he’d be like “omg get it”

when aria refuses to get up and make herself food (this happens way too often, she just gets into the groove of her work and doesn’t want to move) mark gets her to by threatening to do it himself

consistently caught by czennies just standing behind her and holding her hand in crowded areas - airports, waiting rooms, etc.

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

mark and aria were standing off to one side as the mc explained the rules of the game they were about to be playing. mark looked totally confused, and elbowed aria in her side before looking down and mouthing “what?” to her. aria opened her mouth, before closing it and looking down at the ground, muttering to herself, “결합… 結合….. le chéile…. le… le.. oh oh - combined! we have to put them together, markie.”and thus, a new confusion meme was born

➣ RENJUN ☾ renjaria

renjun and aria room together while she’s promoting with dream

they were so awkward around each other at the beginning :(

only really spoke in passing, or when they had to

it was renjun that broke the ice at first, asking if she wanted to go shopping for the dorm together

now it’s their thing

“no aria, we can’t get more ice-cream we’re all supposed to be on diets.” “but ｡ﾟ･ (>﹏<) ･ﾟ｡ please”

he’s lowkey soft for her but he’d rather throw himself off the roof then tell her that

piano pals

he started teaching her how to properly play once he found her messing around on a keyboard in the studio one day

they actually argue quite a bit

not about big things, but about smaller things that push each other over the edge because of stress

the first time he yelled at her, aria spent the night in hyuck’s room

hyuck yelled at renjun for making her cry

now they’re probably the best pairing for talking through their emotions instead of blowing up on each other

they’re both quite opinionated people, and they’ve learnt to navigate that well so fights don’t happen as often

does that stop renjun from teasing aria an within an inch of her life? absolutely not

“i’ll kill you” “can you, reach?” “LISTEN HERE-”

he acts like he’s 10ft tall, excuse you sir you are barely 5′6″

renjun was her mandarin teacher for a while, but then kun kindly told her that her “introduction” was actually calling herself an idiot

aria has a bad problem with saesangs go away bitches and renjun is iconic for going off on them for her because she doesn’t like to make a big deal out of it all

he gets so angry on her behalf

that was actually a topic of one of their biggest arguments smh

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

aria was leaning on a pile of books to prop herself up as she leant forwards to try and hang a string of lights on her bedroom wall. renjun walked in, and immediately came to her aid, speaking with a teasing tone. “need a hand?”

aria, without ceremony just elbowed him in the stomach and used his then folded up figure to push herself up higher. “yes, thank you!”

she got hate for that one, but it was all in good fun and renjun was laughing after it

➣ JENO ☾ nori

aria is his princess and everyone else can fight him

like they’re both doyoung’s children, but if it comes down to it he will lay down his life for her

and not even in a romantic way, just a “you’re too precious i have to protect you” kind of way

czennies thought he was in love with her for the entirety of nct 2018 promotions

this boy was hanging off of her at any given second, and there was an edited video of jeno “glaring” at lucas’ back when the taller boy walked away after hugging aria

it was faked, stan twt needs to chill out

he drags her to the gym

he’s basically her big brother? but they’re the same age - its a weird dynamic but they make it work

they’re so LOUD together

not chaotic, but he makes her laugh so hard

vlive 191030: “nono-ah makes my cheeks hurt so i can’t spend too long around him. my sides hurt too ~ ♡(｡- ω -)”

any and all fanfictions written about the two are definitely either coffee shop, university or library AUs

this man walks like a bodyguard around her - boy got the arm over the shoulder, tucked her head into him, covering her face, its a whole ordeal

dispatch released some pictures of aria one day and accidentally blurred out jeno’s face because they thought he was her bodyguard

is so. so mindful of how long aria spends in the training rooms

like, yes everyone else expects her home before midnight (long story)

but jeno actively makes sure to ask people what time she left the dorm at, and texts her to remind her to take water breaks and to come home at a good time so she can sleep

these two are the creators of so many iconic vlives - they have a bad habit of going live at 1 or 2 in the morning, just doing random things

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

“hi hi! so, nono and i- jeno stop it, stop it! - nono and i are walking down to the park to go feed the birds - yes we’re going to feed the bird- no! we are not going to feed the ducks, bread can kill the ducks! why did you bring brea-”

jeno pulled the camera from aria’s hands. “ari and i,” he looked at her purposefully, “are going back to the dorms because someone forgot to bring the bird seed, and apparently we can’t give bread to ducks anymore.”

*sounds of aria intermittently hitting and scolding jeno ensue*

➣ DONGHYUCK ☾ arichan

the other half of the best friend crew

absolute heathens to be around when they are together

donghyuck is the person aria is closest to, and someone she’d call her best friend (only when she was sure he wouldn’t hear her)

she calls him “the demon child i can’t get rid of” but will, and has definitely pouted when he ignored her for too long

generally aria is a pretty soft spoken person, but not with hyuck around - he brings out all her chaos energy (please pray for the patience of dotae)

the pair have a little tradition of kissing the back of each others’ hands before going on stage for good luck. they can’t even remember how it started, but now its an unnegotiable pre-show ritual

he’s so clingy with her absolutely everywhere its painfully adorable (ಥ﹏ಥ)

interviews? hyuck has a hand on her knee, or if she’s wearing a skirt he’s tucked his hand in between their chairs so she can hold it discreetly. in the dorms? full body tackle onto the couch, where he proceeds to lay on top of her completely.

because of hyuck’s nickname being the sun, and aria always being around him, czennies gave her the nickname “moon” to go with him

fans thought that aria was older than hyuck for a good year and a half before she released her birthday on a vlive, because she’s normally the one tasked with reigning his chaotic energy in during promotions (that is, if she hasn’t already joined him)

but off-camera, aria is absolutely hyuck’s baby there is no disputing that. aria’s sad?he’s there with ice-cream and a blanket and a baseball bat.

the winnie the pooh character that is on aria’s bed was a gift from hyuck for her 17th birthday, after she made him watch seven episodes of the show on netflix with her one night

yes he complained, but he slapped her hand away when she went to change it to something else

a twitter thread of a czennie comparing their horoscopes together went viral when people realized that it was quite plausible that the pair were each others (platonic) soulmates

after an incident involving blueberries, donghyuck took it upon himself to check the ingredients of every. single. food item in their dorm to make sure it was ok for her to eat

hyuck clowns her for her irish accent, and aria curses him out in japanese

tldr: they cute or whatever

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

donghyuck was doing a vlive in his bedroom, sitting and talking to czennies when aria opened the door to his room quietly. she didn’t say anything, just waved slightly with almost closed eyes before she crawled underneath his covers and tucked her plushie underneath her chin. hyuck didn’t even blink at it - so it must have been a regular occurrence.

➣ JAEMIN ☾ nari

jaemin highkey flusters her

not in a oo you’re so cute, cute boy make nerves go eeee

but he’ll wink at her and teasingly compliment her and now she looks like a firetruck this isn’t fair

he absolutely takes advantage of this where ever possible

“riri, can i have some?” “no, i just made these you should have helped me (-_-)” “riri~ but you looked so cute making them i didn’t want to interrupt you~” *aria.exe has stopped responding*

but when aria isn’t trying to get her cheeks to stop being red, they’re really cute together

you’d swear aria is older, by how much jaemin whines for her attention

the mighty battles between jaemin and hyuck

hyuck’s just biding his time for the rooftop fight

kinda panics around her when she’s crying, but is always the first to offer up a hug

has a period tracker on his phone but no one knows about it

he doesn’t like to coddle her because they’re so close in age, but that doesn’t stop him from getting protective in certain situations *cough cough the fansign cough cough*

jaemin and aria cuddling when they’re drunk? more likely than you’d think

he definitely professed his undying love for her at one point while being drunk, and chenle caught it on video

“noona we’re playing that at your wedding”

designated blanket/pillow hunter at award shows, and if he can’t find one then he usually just gives her his jacket

the amount of coffee these two consume should be illegal

aria prefers to call him nana and he prefers to call her riri in the dorms, so when either of them get called by their first name by the other it means A: they’re on a schedule, or B: someone’s about to die

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

nct dream on idol room were trying out jaemin’s death-in-a-cup (his coffee) and as the cup got passed around, aria grew more and more concerned with each face the members made. “jaemin if i die from this-”

he only smiled at her while passing over the cup. aria held it up to look at the black liquid skeptically, before sighing in resignation and bringing the cup to her lips to take a sip.

and then another.

“wait this is good i like this”

➣ CHENLE ☾ leri

hide yo kids and hide yo wives because leri is entering the chat

*cue aria and chenle wearing 2000s rapper clothes with backwards baseball caps*

these two are so chaotically calm

its like the energy cancels out or something

aria with hyuck is just so loud and obnoxious, and the same with chenle with jisung

so when you put those two together it just turns into le positive vibes

you ever meditated to those 132 hertz sounds? thats them in a sound

aria will hold him like a baby kitten she’s expecting to try wriggle out of her grip at any moment and its comical because he’s a good head taller than her

aria definitely has a knack for making her groupmates’ parents fall in love with her

every two weeks or so she goes for dinner in chenle’s house upon his mother’s request

they have a mutual understanding of the mental toll it takes to be around the rest of the dreamies constantly

chenle and aria sitting peacefully, watching a cdrama:

the dreamies, throttling each other: AAAAAAAAAAA

will never admit it but he misses her the most when she goes away to promote

he thinks of her as a big sister and the dorms feel empty without her there

aggressive proud hugs

so aggressive, he legit tackles her

he had to tone it down after knocking her over once backstage and she narrowly missed clocking herself on a nearby soundboard

“YAH ZHONG CHENLE YOU HAVE TO BE CAREFUL!”

he always gets a little bit anxious when they eat things outside of the dorms because he’s never seen her have an allergic reaction before and he’d like to keep it that way (`皿´＃)

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

chenle was particularly restless that day, constantly shuffling about in his seat to the point where renjun forcefully tossed an arm over his shoulders to hold him still while the vlive was still playing.

not one to be defeated, chenle then turned to press his lips to renjun’s cheek playfully, laughing when the older boy turned away in disgust. he turned to do the same to aria, coming closer to her cheek before aria turned her head to face his.

“AAA-” “EW CHENLE WHY”

➣ JISUNG ☾ jiri

oh god oh god oh god

if aria could take this boy and wrap him in a blanket and keep him in her pocket she would - no questions asked

jisung knows she loves him the most out of dream sorry markhyuck and takes advantage of it every second

she used to coddle him a lot when he was smaller, but now that he’s older aria tries to rein it in as much as possible

that doesn’t mean it goes away completely though

“noona can you cook for me?” “of course jisungie! what do you want?”

*jeno gobsmacked in the background* “you just told me you were too tired to cook tonight”

aria: big baby, must protect

jisung: tiny noona, must protect

jaemin and aria are really the only people jisung is ok with seeing him be super emotional - and he flip flops between the two depending on the reason why he’s emotional

self-esteem, feeling poopy side of it all? straight into aria’s bed, letting her roll him onto his side so she can tuck his head into her shoulder and covers the two of them with her duvet the way she used to do when he was shorter

this boy cannot curse around her unless he wants to get his ass Beat

dancing bros

they go so hard in their NCT Dance duet videos

he keeps band-aids in his bag for her in exchange for her keeping an extra bottle of water in hers because jisung always forgets his own

jisung rests his elbow on her head a lot

but only briefly because the last time he stayed there for too long she stamped on his foot

tldr: aria is jisung’s emotional support gnome

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

jisung and aria were doing the chicken leg battle (this one) to fight for first dibs on the rooms they were going to be sharing for the next week or so. just before they were about to start, mark started laughing and pointing at how high jisung’s leg came up on aria’s, with aria’s knee barely hitting jisung’s mid-thigh

“this is an unfair advantage! this is cheating!”

226 notes · View notes

caiuscassiuss · 4 years

Text

Birched⎮D. Sicheng (M) P.2

Description: There was something that lurked beneath that pretty boy smile of Dong Sicheng— something dark, something dangerous… something you knew you would get pulled into once you got too curious. (Or, your ill-tempered coworker turns out to be your dominant.)

Part One is HERE

Genre: BDSM/ enemies to lovers winwin! smut | romance | angst WC: 11k+ Warnings: graphic smut (dom! sicheng + sub! reader, BDSM (Bondage, Dominance, Submission, and Masochism) choking, rough sex), taboo relationship, blatant sexism, TW: mentions of an abusive relationship

(A/N: Thank you to my amazing beta @won-markiepooh-woo for helping me. This wouldn’t have been possible without you!)

Saturday February 1st, 2020

Y/N’s Apartment

10 AM HKT

The little jingle of a FaceTime call echoed through your silent apartment, and you snuggled into the sheets of your bed.

“Hello? Kun huang?”

A flash black hair and a sweet smile appeared within the view of the camera.

“Huang Gua!” you exclaimed.

Instantly, the happy smile slipped off his face and transformed into an annoyed expression.

“Can you not? We’ve been over this,” he complained.

“Oh come on! It’s so funny,” you jibed.

“It’s not.”

“You only used to eat cucumbers for years. You earned that name yourself.”

“So?” he snorted. “You used to eat shrimp chips as a kid. I don’t call you shrimp, do I?” A devious expression flashed over his face.

“Kun Huang…” you warned.

“Maybe I should start now. Right, shrimp?”

“Oh my god, stop!”

“No, shrimp. I can keep going, you know.”

“Okay, fine, fine. I submit!” You laughed.

He chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”

“So how are you now, Hendery? How’s your mom and dad? Oh my gosh, Hengwai!”

“I’m doing fine, as are mom and dad. Hengwai misses her little sister. They all want you to call them more. Sometimes I think they miss you more than me.” He pouted.

“Awww, poor baby. But give them my well wishes too! I miss everyone so much,” you said. For some reason, tears welled in your eyes.

Obviously, Hendery could tell you were about to start crying and started to panic.

“Y/N? Talk to me. Oh, you know I can’t take it if you start crying!”

He never really could. Even after many years spent together in your childhood, he was still awkward as hell around your tears.

You waved him off, swiping the tears. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just so lonely around here.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m fine! I swear!”

“Literally, one word and I’m on a flight to Hong Kong. I’m not playing,” he said gravely.

“Hendery, no. Besides, don’t you have some farms to run? I would never expect you to do that.”

“One word, Y/N. Just one.” He looked you dead in the eye.

You looked away. “Anyways, how are your farms going?”

A smile split his face and his eyes sparked. “Guess who just got their hundredth farm?”

Your jaw dropped. “No way, you’re fucking joking! One hundred?! I’m so proud of you! Kun Huang!” you squealed.

“Yeah, I know right? It’s so weird knowing so many people depend on me for their livelihoods now. I get sort of scared when I sit back and think about it…”

As Kun Huang went on about his day to day troubles in agriculture, a small, wistful smile played upon your lips. Why didn’t you just stay back and fall in love with Kun Huang? It would have been so easy. Being with Kun Huang was like breathing, and you could’ve spent the rest of your life like this. No Minghao, no BDSM, and most importantly, no… him.

Dolos.

Master?

Sicheng.

You hated how smoothly the puzzle pieces fit together. Sicheng always left early on Fridays, even though he always stayed late. At office parties, he lacked a significant other by his side, even when many would drop everything if he so much as winked at them.

It was hard not to think about him. You had started to feel an increase in your heartbeat whenever you thought of Dolos before Wednesday. You had originally wanted to know who was behind Dolos’ mask and if he returned those feelings. But, fuck, he would be so mad if he found out who you were.

Not to mention, how humiliating it would be if he knew. You had staked everything on being a cold-hearted bitch when Sicheng took particular pleasure in sneering at “the inherent submissiveness” of her gender. So if he found out Dove, who liked to be slapped during sex, and her, the la dame sans merci of the company, were the same person, it would destroy any chance of credibility you may have had in his eyes.

This was all one big mess. One big, gigantic and catastrophic mess. For so long you had rigorously kept your professional and personal lives apart, but the universe had conspired against you: to make the best dominant you ever had to also be your work nemesis.

Some higher being was laughing at you, you knew it.

Sunday February 2nd, 2020

The Dong Family Villa on the Shek O Peninsula, Hong Kong

1 PM HKT

A curl of disgust twisted his lips as he looked down on the lawn party going down below him.

“Don’t you look happy, Sicheng.”

Sicheng acknowledged ChengCheng out of the corner of his eye and went back to glaring at the party in contempt.

“This is not how I wanted today to go.”

His childhood friend snorted and plopped himself down in a lawn chair, contemplating the blond haired man.

Sicheng spun around and picked up his glass of wine, downing the drink in one gulp. He settled himself next to ChengCheng with a frown.

“I just wanted to come here and fucking relax, but, no, my parents just had to use it for the fucking party. Fete. What-fucking-ever.” He exhaled loudly and ran his hands through his hair.

Chengcheng looked over the balcony railing curiously. “Looks like a luncheon to me.”

“Fuck off.”

“Christ, what’s up your ass?”

“Just some work stuff. It’s nothing.”

The brown-haired man frowned. “Then why aren’t you at Black’s then? Nothing can’t be resolved by a good fuck.”

At the mention of the club, a pained expression flashed over Sicheng’s face and his knuckles inadvertently tightened around the stem of his glass. The tension that had been in shoulders wounded itself up even more and this clued ChengCheng in.

Something other than work had Sicheng in knots. Very rarely did the blond man ever show he was angry—not even when his father lashed him as a child, nor when the family forced him to work for the company—so he was evidently very troubled by this ‘something’.

Sicheng’s phone rang and broke the silence. The man himself fished it out of his back pocket irritatedly.

“Excuse me for a moment, ChengCheng. I need to take this phone call.”

“Sicheng speaking,” he spoke as he stalked into the study.

“Hello sir, how are you—”

“Did you get the information or not?” Sicheng asked, cutting off the family’s retainer. His leg bounced, as he sat against the desk and he ran a weary hand through his hair.

“A-ah, unfortunately, Black’s doesn’t record pseudonyms digitally or on paper…”

“Fuck!” Sicheng yelled. Mr. Lau just had to be fucking careful, he thought irritably.

“... However, sir, I was able to obtain a membership list since the club was digitally updating their monthly list. I then compared it to the list from the previous month and found several missing names, indicative of them terminating their membership. I have compiled a dossier of several females that match your description of Dove and forwarded it to you.”

Sicheng quickly logged into his laptop, his blood rushing through his ears. The identity of the most perfect submissive he’s ever had could literally be sitting in his inbox right now.

With trembling fingers, he opened the attachment.

Wang Fang, age 25—

“Sir?”

The blond man glared at his phone. “Thank you for your service, Liu Wei. Goodbye.”

Wang Fang was a tall, spindly woman with a face like a horse. The policy of privacy by masks was kind to her at Black’s. However, the jaw was all wrong and he knew in his gut she was not his Dove.

He scrolled to the next page. Leila Williams, age 27—British expat, was absolutely gorgeous. But, even through the screen, she exuded an unshakable aura of self-assurance. A dominatrix, probably, so that excluded her from his search.

He went through 2 or 3 more documents; each one too plain or too ordinary to be Dove.

Y/N L/N, age XX.

Sicheng blinked rapidly, sagging into his office chair.

Y/N is—was—a member at Black’s?

The picture provided was the one from her LinkedIn profile: a professional headshot with a grey background. She was smiling tightly, coldly—just as she was in the office. The other image provided instantly tented his pants.

It was her, clearly on a night out. She was in attire that flattered her body and he could easily see himself running his hands over her. Y/N looked fucking fantastic with her unbound hair, so unlike her tight updos at the office. However, what drew his eyes was the most vibrant shade of red painted on her lips, which was parted slightly as she was laughing.

He recognized that lipstick. The same shade of firetruck red had been smeared across Dove’s cheeks many, many times. YSL Rouge Satin Lipstick—the one he told her he liked and she, like a good girl, had religiously worn.

Could that mean…?

Glancing at the side bar, he noticed there was one more page left in the dossier. Please let the next one be Dove…

His hopes were instantly deflated. Kwon Myunghee was too old and too artificial to be his gorgeous submissive.

With his heart in his throat, he scrolled back to Y/N’s page. Enlarging the picture of her laughing, he put a hand over her eyes and leaned back to observe.

Sicheng would be an absolute fool if he did not recognize that mouth. Red fuck me! lipstick on an equally fuckable mouth parted in pleasure, or screaming his name while strung up on a cross. He would be an absolute fool if he did not recognize that neck, covered in purple and red hickies or his fingermarks. An absolute damn fool.

Yet, at this moment, he would’ve given anything to be one.

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Y/N was… Dove? And Dove… was Y/N?

So why did she leave? How did she end up at Black’s? Did she know? Did she end up there on purpose? Why—

Eventually, all the questions piled up in his head until he was left winded. Sicheng buried his head in his hands, pulling at his blond locks and breathing heavily. Something was bubbling in his chest and—

He started to laugh. He cackled, howled, at his shitstorm of misfortune, luck, and confusion until he was sprawled undignified on the Oriental carpet, staring up at the intricate wood carvings on the ceiling.

Monday February 3rd, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

6 PM HKT

Shutting the door to your office, you collapsed into your chair and massaged your temples.

Today was the day Mr. Lee had left the office, leaving his official resignation. The top sales officials (including an off-color, brooding Sicheng) gathered in his office to congratulate him and give him an official goodbye. What was supposed to be a quick meet-up turned into afternoon drinking when Mr. Lee pulled out the good liquor from a secret cabinet underneath his desk. You accepted a drink with a grimace, but Sicheng declined and remained uncharacteristically detached the entire time. Granted, you too were detached from the conversation, uncomfortable with the lewd retirement and mistress jeers spouted by the older sales officials as they steadily got drunker and less inhibited.

As the time ended and a consensus to leave had been reached, you thought you could escape and actually work... that was until Mr. Lee walked alongside you and stuck himself in the elevator with you.

The bastard had the audacity to grope your ass in the crowded elevator. You shivered, remembering the awful and grimy feeling as his hot breath whispered in your ear that he was available any time for a “catch-up”.

This day was a mess. You had a shit-ton of work to catch up due to that fucking meeting and you had been sexually harrassed; you were also anxious about the promotion and, on top of that, you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Sicheng.

Huffing, you ate some red-bean bread as you powered up your desktop. This was fucking ridiculous. You knew Sicheng had noticed your odd, reticent behavior around him and this skittishness was impeding your ability to work. Well, no better way to forget about your problems was to solve other ones at work.

For the next two hours, you slogged through work emails and analytics as the sun set over Kowloon Bay. Your hair had been unbound and your blazer had been messily thrown over the back of your chair as your work progressed. Since most of the office had left by now, you figured it was safe to relax in your office.

It was night time by the time you had finished your last project and you sat back in your chair, staring at the skyline. Was this how your life destined to be? At the top, surrounded by the comforts of life, but alone?

A knock sounded at the door, jolting you out of your thoughts.

Who the fuck would be at the office at 8 PM?

“Come in.”

You caught sight of a golden head of hair slipping inside of your office and you sighed. Of course, it was Sicheng.

He took a seat unbidden and stared at you with an indecipherable expression on his face. His eyes roamed the contours and curves of your features.

You arched an eyebrow. “Can I help you with anything, Sicheng? I’m about to leave the office.”

He fought with himself inwardly, his mouth opened and closed several times before he finally settled on what he wanted to say. “I’d like to ask a question.”

You adjusted yourself in the chair. “Feel free.”

From his blazer’s pocket, he pulled out an aged sheet of paper and slowly opened it, before setting it in front of you. Sicheng settled back in his chair and steepled his fingers over his lap, the lights of the Hong Kong skyline playing across his face and making his sharp features stand out.

“Do you recognize this?”

The blood literally froze in your veins as your eyes caught sight of your handwriting in the letter, along with the tear-stains that blotched the paper and the text. Your heartbeat rose to your throat and all you felt was the blood rushing in your ears.

“Y/N?” he prodded.

You gulped and straightened out your top, your fingers trembling as you did so.

“No, I don’t. W-who’s Dolos? Why does this concern me?” you lied, stumbling a bit.

He watched you, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.

“Don’t lie to me, Dove.”

“I-Dove? My name is Y/N,” you replied shakily. Grabbing your purse, you hurriedly stuffed all your personal belongings in while avoiding catching his seething stare. “Excuse me, I’d really like to get home.”

His jaw clenched and his palm twitched as he saw you had no desire to come clean.

“Look at me.”

Unthinking, you ceased all movements, put your trembling hands in your lap and looked up at him. “Sir?”

Your eyes widened and you slapped a hand over your mouth; your eyes darted around the room in search for an escape. You felt akin to a caged animal as he grinned meanly, incongruous on his cherubic features.

“That’s what I thought.”

“No—”

“You thought you could get away with this? You thought you could fucking play me?!”

You were aghast at seeing Dolos and Sicheng finally merging together in front of your eyes, and the result was grotesquely beautiful. His grin slipped off his face and twisted into a malevolent sneer. The naked fire in Dolos' gaze was finally unveiled in Sicheng’s eyes and, for the first time, you could see who Sicheng really was.

“Answer me, Dove—Y/N! Fuck, I don’t even know who you are anymore!” Sicheng shouted, running his hands through his hair while he paced around your office.

You stared unblinkingly at the bookshelf at the corner of the room. Fuck, this was all your nightmares coming true. You were going to be ruined and he was going to laugh on and on now that he knew you and Dove were the same.

“It was never supposed to end up like this,” you whispered hoarsely, tears welling up underneath your lashes.

“How was it supposed to end, huh? Fuck, you strung me along for six months—half a fucking year—”

“I didn’t fucking know, you ass! I wouldn’t have touched you with a ten foot pole if I knew who you were!” you hissed.

He laughed harshly. “You did a hell of a lot more than touch me, Dove. But after you got your fix, you pretended that this never happened.”

“You would’ve done the same, so this never did happen. Walk out right now and this will have never happened and we can go back to our normal, spiteful dynamic—”

“You’re out of your fucking mind, if you think—”

“You don’t understand, Sicheng! Can’t you see I’ll be ruined by this? That we’ll both be ruined by this? I can’t afford that!”

“So you thought to just leave me? With just a fucking letter and nothing else?”

“I didn’t know, okay! I didn’t know what to do!”

“You lied to me, Y/N. Fucking lied to my face!”

“I had to! Because you and I were never supposed to find out!”

Sicheng moved to yell, but clamped his jaw shut. “You lying, cheating, slut,” he seethed.

Your mouth trembled for a moment at the sheer vitriol that sprouted from his lips, but you stood tall. “You know what? Maybe I am. But I can live with that if you’d just fucking let it go!”

“You think I’d be able to let go of this?!” He cupped your jaw roughly and pulled you into a hungry kiss.

It wasn’t a smooth kiss—not one with even a hint of finesse. Lips smashed into lips, with tongue and teeth grappling against each other as his hands bruised your wrists.

Your back hit your desk and he swept your belongings off the desk haphazardly, letting go of your chin to lift you onto the desk with no effort.

“Forget my tongue on your skin? Forget my hands in between your thighs?” he murmured between hungry dips of his tongue. “I’ll fucking show you.”

He kissed down your neck, stopping to nip at your collarbone, and left a trail of stinging lovebites all over your shoulders. Sicheng’s hips pinned you into the desk as he popped each button of your blouse, hurriedly ripping it to the side to leave more hickies upon your chest and breasts.

You moaned as he pushed the cups of your bra down, using his wicked tone to swipe complicated patterns but never once touching your tips. Finally, he nipped at them hard causing you to squeal embarrassingly.

“S-sicheng,” you whimpered, gripping his hair as he pushed up your skirt.

The blond man carelessly pulled your underwear aside and thrusted two fingers in.

“Fuck!” you gasped, as you buried your red face in the crook of his neck.

You couldn’t see it, but you knew he was smirking smugly so your hands drifted down to his tented trousers and gripped his erection hard.

“You wanna fucking play? Let’s play, baby,” he grunted and hastily unbuckled his belt. His glorious cock sprung up in the space between your thighs.

Sicheng pushed your back down onto the desk, leaving him to tower over you. Without warning, he roughly pushed his cock into your slit.

You both groaned at the pleasurable friction. Fuck, how could you forget this? His length stretching you out deliciously? His broad shoulders heaving in exertion?

He bottomed out slowly, stilling as his hips pressed into yours. A sly smile glanced over his face as his hand drifted over your neck.

“Sicheng! You asshole, fucking move!” you said to him, thrusting your own hips weakly for effect.

His devilish smile split his angelic features, and he shook his head. “Wrong name, Dove.”

His hips pushed into yours roughly and you whined, scratching at the edges of your desk. Sicheng withdrew just as quickly and thrusted in again, watching the lust ripple upon your expression. He had missed the way your left eyebrow ticked when he brushed against your G-Spot, your nose scrunching as you clasped his shoulders. Finally seeing your full expressions fulfilled something in him that he didn’t care to reflect upon.

After deep, staccato thrusts that had you gasping for breath, he settled into a smooth rhythm. You slapped a hand over your mouth as your back bowed, thrusting your breasts up to his hungry perusal. Unable to resist temptation—the godless Tantalus he was—he settled his plump lips over your nipples, raised his eyes to yours, and sucked.

Even with your palm practically stuffed in your lips, your keen echoed around the room loudly and slick dripped down your thighs, making the desk underneath your bottom sticky and wet.

He tsked, lifting his head up and looked deeply into your eyes. A slight grin settled over his lips and Sicheng tilted his head mockingly. “Oh sweet girl, haven’t you forgotten we’re in an office?” His eyes darkened even more. “I’ll have to keep you quiet, then, whore.”

His featherlight touches on your rib cage was replaced with a bruising grasp to your throat, stealing the air out of you. His wrist settled into your collar bone and his slender fingers mimicked playing the piano, placing pressure on different parts on your throat to an unheard rhythm. The blood rushed to your ears, the dizzying sensation of it blurring your sight and distorting your thoughts. The veins on his forehand, twisting and rippling in the light, caught your vision and he moved—ever so roughly—into you.

Sicheng set a new pace, stretching your legs even wider and your head fell back onto the desk with a thunk. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe; you just felt the numbing sort of pleasure that radiated from your pussy.

“Fucking slut,” he gasped. “You’ve bewitched me, haven’t you? Wrapped yourself around my brain and haven’t let me so much as breathe without thinking about you.” His grip tightened around your neck. “I’ll show you.”

Suddenly, your phone on the floor rang and you both froze. He released the grip on your neck and bent down.

His back was like one of those old sketches the masters of the age practiced with, the light played upon his back and his muscles rippled under his skin—belying the power hidden within him.

“Who the fuck is Kunhuang,” he said flatly, wrath bubbling in his words.

You sat up. “H-he’s a friend. Nobody. No one.”

“See you soon, love,” he read mockingly. “Call me when you have time.”

Sicheng crowded into your space, your eyes jumping around to avoid looking at his incensed face.

“Kunhuang.” He spat like it was filth upon his lips. “You left me for him?”

Feeling his constrained fierceness and his frantic gaze, you pushed harshly at his chest and bared your teeth at him. “It’s not like that. He’s my childhood friend!”

His rage bubbled to the surface and his nostrils flared. It was all the warning you had before he suddenly took your hips and flipped, forcing a scream out of you.

Your chest and breasts now pressed against your desk. Sicheng tugged you down to his hips, lifting one of your legs to rest on your desk and exposed your core to him shamefully.

“I’ll take you from behind like the whore you are,” he stated. His rough tenor the grating upon your ears and scraping upon your skin.

He lined up and thrusted hard and you bit your lip, cheek against your deck and tears streaming down your face. It felt so good to be in his embrace, feeling every vein and ridge of his cock rub against your muscles.

Soon, you felt that feeling rising in your stomach, burning behind his eyelids as your orgasm began to build. His hands grasped your throat and he pulled, bowing your back to his chest and forcing his mouth to yours.

Teeth and tongue clashed and his cock hit this spot in you and you screamed into his mouth, tensing up beneath him as you shuddered painfully.

A grunt left him as he felt your muscles nearly strangle his cock and he only lasted a few, staccato thrusts until his vision went white.

Wednesday, February 13th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

7 AM HKT

You purposely did not look into Sicheng’s office window as you strode briskly down the hall with a coffee in your hand.

A few days ago felt like a watershed moment, but after you two had caught your breaths, the sheer amount of emotions in the room—frustration, satiation, anger, hunger—weighed upon your lips and forced them shut. He had quickly dressed himself, not saying a word, but he casted a glance in your direction that was undecipherable and left.

You, at the moment, did not know how to feel. Hurt? Angry? Sad? But you settled upon your usual solution: ignoring that anything had happened and resuming the normal.

Alas, the fates were unkind. They neatly disposed of your plans to avoid the man when the two of you were scheduled to meet with other sales heads in the afternoon. Unfortunately, when the time came to be, you and Sicheng were the first ones there.

He studiously avoided looking at you, busying himself by opening up his laptop and flipping to a new page on his legal pad. You ignored him as well, scrolling through the latest news on your webpage. However, as the seconds ticked by, you could not resist resting your eyes upon him. It felt like a damn magnet was pulling your gaze to him.

He looked good today, from the brief glances you stole at him. Freshly shaven, his hair was styled neatly and he was in a dark green, cashmere sweater. Was this your fate? To be shamefully attracted to a man that equally repelled you?

“Interesting.”

The both of you shot a look at the door, where an unrecognizable, lanky man with a proud, straight nose was peering down upon you and swinging a plastic bag in his hand.

“Chengcheng? What the hell are you doing here?”

Completely ignoring Sicheng, he settled his lidded gaze upon you before his eyes lit up in recognition.

“So you’re the one that has shaken him, then.”

Dead silence permeated the room. He looked at the two shocked faces, both ashen. “What? Are you going to tell me I’m wrong? Please. I’d have to be deaf, blind, and dumb to ignore the way you two gravitate to each other.”

Your two quick glances that were meant to be unnoticed clashed, resulting in your eyes meeting. You both turned your eyes away.

Chengcheng snorted, as if that moment confirmed everything for him, and he chucked a bag at Sicheng.

“You forgot your lunch, remember?”

Sicheng’s jaw tightened. “Thank you.”

Once again, awkward silence reigned and ChengCheng’s eyes switched back and forth between you like a particularly exciting tennis match.

“You two need to talk. You’ll both age prematurely at this rate, with the angst you two are producing. Talk.”

He left with a wave, striding down the hall casually and stealing many of your female coworkers’ gazes.

“... He’s right, you know.”

Sicheng’s eyes flicked up to yours and he focused his full attention on you. Intensely, he contemplated you, tongue poking at the sides of his mouth.

“I agree. We can meet—” he cut himself off, looking around surreptitiously. “—at Black’s.”

You sucked your lip in between your teeth. “Fine. Neutral ground.”

He took a good, long look at you, like a man seeing water after seeing nothing but sand.

“Tonight. At 8.”

Thursday, February 13th, 2020

Black’s

7:50 PM HKT

Strangely enough, you felt comfortable despite the jittery nerves under your skin as you walked into Black’s.

The receptionist had given you a knowing look as you repeated the guest password, letting you in without question. You strapped on the standard, white lace mask and steeled yourself, opening the mahogany doors.

The club was abnormally busy; the guests and members crowded the couches and loitered on the floor. The quiet string music that could usually be heard was masked by the loud chattering of the people in the room.

“Is that you, Dove?”

You spun around to see the smiling, wizened face of Mr. Liu.

A grin broke out on your face and you took his hands. “Mister Liu! It is wonderful to see you.”

“I am happy to see you as well.” He chuckled with his eyes gleaming fondly at you. “Have you decided to visit this old man?”

Playfully, you lightly smacked his shoulder.

Mr. Liu was an important figure to you. All those months ago, when you arrived at Black’s to be screened, as a potential member and straight out of a relationship with Minghao—broken, shattered, hollow—he took one look at you and said no.

Why? You remembered asking tearfully. Am I not pretty enough? Rich enough?

He searched your pale, wan face, as if seeing the emotional scars Minghao had lashed into you, before sighing.

You shouldn’t be asking me that. Are you enough for yourself?

Confused, you had asked him to elaborate. He sympathetically replied that he could see you were entering the club for the wrong reasons. You were different, he’d said. You looked so innocent that he could not morally allow you into the club, despite the depraved patrons that gained membership. He knew, at the time, entering the club would cripple you.

So, what now? You asked, confused. He said he would keep your file open until you came back ‘at the right time.’

The ‘right time?’

You will know it when it comes.

And somehow, you did. After a few months of picking the pieces of yourself together and stabilizing your life, you had grown into a physically and emotionally healthy person. The “right moment” came and you sat in his quaint little office again, opposite of a smiling Mr. Liu as he stamped his approval.

After chatting a few moments, the volume in the room increased slightly and you frowned.

“Why is it so busy today?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Do you know what today is?”

“No?”

“Today is the evening before Valentine’s day, dear girl.”

“... Oh.”

New information in hand, you looked at the scene more closely. You could see that some couples in the crowd seemed to curl into each other, the affectionate brushes and knowing glances giving you a sick, sick feeling.

And that’s when you saw Sicheng.

Even masked, he drew attention from the members—attached and non-attached. His lean, fit form struck a figure and you couldn’t turn away from him.

He looked directly into your eyes and only a few seconds passed by as you two observed each other.

“Sicheng somehow found out, hm? Clever, devious boy.” Mr. Liu observed the dynamic much like ChengCheng earlier. His gaze was enraptured how the two of you clashed yet sunk into each other, the way two tidal waves—in a rare moment of offbeat rhythm—struck each other and subsequently merged. Push, pull, push, pull.

“Listen to him and he will listen to you. You two match more than you think,” he advised, bowed, and sunk off into the backrooms.

“Sicheng.”

“Y/N.”

Frustratingly, his face was unreadable. Nevertheless, he offered you his arm (a surprising show of manners) and he led you to a place you had never seen before.

This place was much less pristine than the rest of the club. The wallpaper was older, much more faded, and the wood looked much more worn.

This was one of Mr. Liu’s apartments.

The pair of you entered a comfortable sitting room with the lights low, to which only large candles had been lit.

He made sure you were properly ensconced into an armchair before he turned his back towards you and made his way to the drink carts.

“Would you like something to drink?” Sicheng asked, voice measured.

“A gin tonic would be wonderful.”

After carefully making your drink and pouring himself a healthy 4 fingers of bourbon, he handed your glass to you and sat down in the chair opposite of you.

Silence permeated awkwardly and you turned your eyes towards the tapestry in the middle of the room, giving yourself something to do.

“Were those feelings true?” he asked, not looking at you.

“Elaborate, please.”

“The last night…” He looked quickly at you, before turning his eyes away and clenching his jaw. “The last night we were together.”

“Ah.”

Absolutely, unequivocally. Dolos was everything you had searched for in Minghao and, while your relationship was unusual, you could not deny the string between you two.

Something burned at your eyes and you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Yes. Then and now,” you stated, opening yourself up for an attack.

His eyes widened and the twitching in his fingers stopped.

“And you, Sicheng?” you enquired boldly.

“Always,” he stated without hesitation. “It was never something as trivial as pillow talk.”

Seeing as he was on the brink of closing off, due to his rare moment of vulnerableness, you wrapped your hand around his.

His eyes shot to yours, then to your linked hands, before tightening his grip.

“I don’t know where to start,” you confessed. “I… One thing that has always been on my mind—why did you dislike me so much?”

He smiled bitterly. “Sometimes, I forget that you don’t see the way I see you. You are a smart, dauntless woman, who’s pushed all my buttons. It all just built and built upon each other until I found you—Dove—here.” He pauses. “I projected my frustrations onto Dove—you—here. But never, for a moment, doubt my feelings aren’t genuine.”

You pursed your lips. “Forgive me, but I cannot accept your accusations of me being the office slut—very rude, by the way—were without malice. You constantly pushed me down, clashed with me in the workplace and you were just plain classist.”

Sicheng’s eyes were casted down, but his grip was steady. “I will not lie. Those words I spat at you were with malice. But now, in retrospect, they were nothing more but words of immature frustration that I channeled towards you. I know that I cannot take them back and they will forever linger in the air between us, but I can apologize and recognize those words were completely unacceptable.”

He angled his body fully towards you and clasped your hand in both of his. “I am sorry for my actions. My anger was misplaced and the sentiments do not represent me anymore. I am sorry and I hope you can forgive me.”

“And then what? What do you want now, Sicheng?” An edge of desperation tinged your voice.

He smiled bitterly at you. “Everyday, the smell of you lingers and I, like Pavlov’s dog, cannot help but feel an ache in the marrow of my bones when I see your crimson red lips. Every night, when I go to bed, you are seared across the back of my eyelids and I cannot escape you, even in my dreams.” He paused. “I want you, or whatever scraps you’re willing to toss me.”

A sharp exhale left you nose and you blinked rapidly. “I don’t want to get hurt. You get off on hurting people.”

“With your consent.”

“Say I want a completely vanilla relationship,” you challenged. He didn’t flinch. “What about then?”

Sicheng clenched his jaw and held your gaze fiercely. “Anything.”

“I hate that you are all I’ve wanted in a man,” you admitted unwillingly. He hummed. “Will we be each other’s destruction? Or will we be each other’s maker?” you pondered nonsensically.

“Aren’t we already both?” he retorted.

Slowly, without releasing his hand, you rose from your chair and lowered yourself into his lap. His eyes traced your every movement. For a few, brief moments, you looked into each other’s eyes without the obsurance of a mask or the encumbrance of a workplace rivalry. Your left hand cupped his cheekbone and stroked the skin underneath his eye.

“This will be interesting,” you said.

He gave no sign of reaction, but tilted his head into your palm and closed his eyes. “After us, the flood,” he recited.

Monday, March 2nd, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

7:50 PM HKT

A secret grin tugged at your lips as you looked across the table at Sicheng, who was intensely focused on the presentation your coworker was giving. Perhaps he’d felt the weight of your gaze on him as he chanced a glance at you and gave you a small smirk.

The past month in your relationship with Sicheng was equally fulfilling and frustrating. There were times where both of you deliberately looked for a fight or misinterpreted each other, but there were also times you could shed your layers and just be yourselves with the other.

Even each fight, where you or Sicheng stormed out, or broke things, you came back to each other at the end. Pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling relentlessly. The flood, indeed.

You focused back in on the meeting and contributed to the smatter of clapter for the end of your coworker’s presentation. As he turned off the projector and people stood up to leave, Xiao Daiyu—the interim head of the Sales department—stopped you and Sicheng.

“Y/N, Sicheng, please stay back for a moment. I’d like to talk to you about Mr. Lee’s replacement.”

You and Sicheng glanced at each other and you sat back down. A while ago, you had both agreed the decision wasn’t going to break the quiet relationship you had built. It was going to be sour. You knew, when someone was chosen, things could get messy and awkward. But this… this was too good.

Daiyu sat down and put her hands together. “After much decision and going through your interviews, the CEO has stepped in and we are sorry to say neither of you are getting the position.”

You jerked your head around to Sicheng and he did the same—wild confusion and anger in both of your eyes. Both your years of loyalty and dedication are being passed over?

“Instead, we have decided to hire outside the company for some fresh intake. He may be young, but it comes to us that he’s highly recommended and would fit in with our culture well.”

A sour feeling came to your stomach and you narrowed your eyes, resisting the urge to frown. They had decided to hire outside the company? This is how they decide to reward their workers? This was betrayal.

Glancing over, you could see Sicheng felt the same. His right hand grasped the arm of the chair tightly and you could see his knuckles turning white.

“I’d like to meet him and he’s coming—” She took a glance at her watch. “—right about now.”

A knock came from the door and a head of messy black hair peaked into the room.

“Daiyu laoban, great to see you.”

No. This could not be happening to you.

The wire glasses. The tall, lanky frame that filled the doorway. The almond shaped eyes hiding behind pitch-black hair, as black his shriveled little heart.

Daiyu, like the little bitch she was, giggled. “Y/N, Sicheng, please meet your new Sales Head: Xu Minghao.”

His eyes focused on you and your world suddenly felt tilted, careening sideways while the nausea hit you all at once.

“Nice to meet you,” he said cheerfully.

You could feel Sicheng’s concern radiating from him at your ashen face and look of shock, but you couldn't even think as flashes of blood and tears and pain shuddered throughout your body.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m pleased to be working with you!”

(”After us, the flood” or “Aprés nous, le deluge” is an expression from Madame Pompadour, King Louis XV’s lover.)

And it’s finished. Thank you. Please don’t forget to read, comment, and reblog. I love you all and goodbye.

482 notes · View notes

teacupfulofstarshine · 4 years

Text

but i make these high heels work

summary: roman has something new that he wants to try out, but he’s nervous about his family’s reactions. he needn’t be; they’ve always got his back.

(OR: a birthday fic for roman sanders, set in my moxiety dad au)

a/n: i’m jumping on @notveryglittery‘s “giving the gay everything he wants” agenda. happy birthday roman sanders!!!

cw: anxiety, mild angst, fear of homophobia

wordcount: ~1.8k

read it on ao3!!

Roman carefully smooths his hands over the fabric spread out across his bed. He knows that no one else is awake yet. Not even Logan, who routinely wakes up early because apparently he can run on crumbs of sleep and nothing else. Not even Dad, the earliest riser out of all of them, since he doesn’t have any pressing appointments. No one is awake but Roman.

He’d tossed and turned all night, barely snatching a few hours. He knows he’s going to regret that later, but he also knows that there’s nothing particularly important happening today, so Papa and Dad will be more lenient if he decides to nap. So, rather than waiting until later to roll out of bed, Roman gets up a good hour before anyone else. He makes his bed - properly, this time, pulling off the excess of blankets and pillows and stuffed animals and tucking his thick quilt in. He never has the time or the willpower to make it in the mornings, but today.

Well.

Today, he has anticipation thrumming in his chest like caught lightning, and he needs something to do with his hands.

Roman showers, quietly. The bathroom is between his room and Logan’s, and there’s always the off chance that the water running will wake up his lightweight-sleeper brother. He holds his breath, keeping in all the melodies that usually bubble from his mouth in the shower, and is rewarded with no signs of wakefulness from his brother.

He doesn’t bother to wash his hair, so he doesn’t have to worry about blow-drying his fluffy curls. Instead, he spritzes them with dry shampoo he stole from his Papa and combs through them with his fingers. It takes him about fifteen minutes to get them to just the right state of artfully tousled, but it still doesn’t waste nearly enough time.

Which brings him to here, sitting cross-legged on his perfectly-made bed, staring at the fabric spread across his quilt. It’s plain, compared to what he usually wears, but he supposes that’s the trouble with borrowed clothing. Adding to all that, it’s not real clothing; it’s an old prop he’d salvaged from a box of costumes destined to be torn apart and repurposed. He kind of wishes he had the courage to ask Dad or Papa to take him to the mall to buy a proper one, but he’s never been that kind of brave.

Roman fiddles with the hem of the skirt between his fingers.

It’s red, at the very least, but not the proper shade of red. It’s garish and bright, like a firetruck, like a cartoon bloodstain. It comes down to about Roman’s knees, hanging in loose folds, and it’s not the most comfortable thing he’s ever worn, but he loves it. He loves the way the fabric feels when it swishes around his knees, he loves the way it flares out when he spins in circles, he loves the way it feels to smooth the fabric beneath him in a single fluid motion when he sits down.

He’s terrified to wear it out of the comfort of his bedroom, but he figures that today, June first, the first day of pride month, is as good a day as any to come out of the closet. Roman sighs, curling his hands into loose fists on his thighs.

His phone pings with a notification, and Roman almost falls off his bed as he scrambles forward to snatch his cell phone off his desk. He takes a moment to smile at his home screen photo before answering the message: it’s a picture of himself and Janus from last year’s pride festival. They’re wrapped in a rainbow flag like a cape, leaning their heads together and laughing. Janus has a genderqueer flag painted across his cheek, and Roman has rainbow star stickers across his nose and a rainbow bandanna tying back his hair.

Roman thumbprints his phone open and checks his messages. It’s from Janus himself.

[7:41 am] snoyfriend (snake boyfriend): you’re going to do wonderfully, dearest. your family loves you, and they’ll support you no matter what. and even if they don’t, i support you no matter what. i love you <3

Roman wiggles his feet back and forth eagerly in a gleeful stim as he taps out a response.

[7:43 am] me: thank you, snove (snake love). ily2 <3

[7:44 am] snoyfriend (snake boyfriend): are you ever going to stop calling me snake-themed nicknames, beloved?

[7:44 am] me: sno (snake no)

[7:46 am] snoyfriend (snake boyfriend): i hate you <3

[7:47 am] me: i snove (snake love) you too <3 <3

*~*~*~*~*

Someone knocks on his door around 8:45. “Ro? Are you coming down to breakfast? I’m making pridecakes!” Dad calls. Roman’s stomach growls at the thought; every year, Dad makes multiple colors of homemade pancake batter and draws pride-flag pancakes on the griddle.

“I’ll be down in a minute!” Roman says.

“Okay, kiddo!”

Roman takes a deep breath. He slides off his bed and shimmies out of his pajama pants. Rummaging around in his drawers, he pulls out a white t-shirt with a swooping golden outline of the Disney castle on the front. Carefully, he steps into the puddle of skirt and tugs the red fabric up over his hips. It’s not a perfect fit, but it comes down to his knees. Roman studies himself in the full-length mirror on the inside of his closet.

“It’s going to be okay,” he sighs, reaching for the rainbow bandana on his desk. He folds it and ties it to form a headband which he uses to push his bangs off his forehead. “It’s going to be okay. Dad and Papa aren’t going to hate you. Thomas and Logan aren’t going to hate you. It’s going to be okay.”

Roman waits until he hears Logan and Thomas go downstairs before he leaves. He picks up his phone, glances at the photo of himself and Janus one more time, and then steps into the hallway.

He lurks on the stairs for a moment, glancing into the kitchen. Logan is sleepily gnawing on a bagel slathered with jam. Papa is pouring coffee into a row of mugs while Thomas helps Dad with the pridecakes. Roman grips his skirt tightly in his hands, watching his family, and then he steps into the kitchen.

“Morning.”

“Good morn - oh!” Dad whirls around, holding a spatula which he quickly foists off onto Thomas. He hurries forward, taking Roman’s shoulders, eyes scanning up and down his outfit. “That’s new! Where’d you get it?”

“It’s an old costume skirt,” Roman says. “Is that - am I - do you -”

Dad smiles, eyes crinkling up as he leans in to kiss Roman’s forehead. “I think you look wonderful, Roman. No matter what you choose to wear.” Roman smiles, hugging his dad tightly. He feels Dad reach up and press a hand into the back of his hair, rocking them back and forth a little as they hug.

When Dad pulls away, Roman’s eyes jump up to Thomas. He grins, flashing a thumbs up, and Roman shakily offers one back. “Nice skirt,” Papa says, wrapping an arm around Roman’s shoulders and pulling him in. Roman feels Papa press a kiss to the top of his head, and he fights to keep himself from crying.

Roman turns, looking at the only family member who hasn’t said anything yet. Logan is still placidly chewing his bagel, watching Roman with his typical calmness. “Logan?” Roman hates the way his voice shakes a little. “Do you like it?”

Logan swallows and sets his bagel down. He scans over Roman’s outfit with a strange critical expression and says, “No. It looks completely wrong on you.”

Roman’s heart sinks to the bottom of his chest. Logan stands up, scanning over Roman repeatedly, frowning as he stares at the skirt. “Logan,” Dad says warningly.

Logan keeps talking. “That is the wrong color for your skin tone. It does not compliment the tan you always achieve in the summer months. The shape is unflattering on your body type, and the material is -” Logan reaches out and rubs the material between two fingers, shuddering. “- is entirely unpleasant. This skirt is completely wrong for you.”

Roman recognizes the glint in his brother’s eye as he examines the skirt with a critical eye. It’s the way he looks at pieces of clothing that the theater department asks him to help tailor. “You would look much nicer in a circle or handkerchief style skirt. That red is hideous, you need a darker shade. I think that dark green would also look nice on you.”

“You . . . aren’t mad about me wearing a skirt?”

Logan blinks at him. “To quote that Avatar show you like so much, ‘Pants are an illusion and so is death.’ Gender is a social construct and clothing should not be dependent on the genitalia you were born with. I do not care if you wish to wear a skirt or not, Roman. Why would I care?”

“I was nervous about wearing a skirt because I thought you would judge me.” Logan takes a few steps closer, offering a small smile, and Roman feels his heart start to swell and rise like a balloon.

“I was not judging you for wearing a skirt, Roman. If you would prefer to wear a skirt, I will support you, always. I did not mean to imply otherwise. I merely meant to offer my assistance because that skirt looks uncomfortable.”

“It really is,” Roman sighs. “I stole it from a box of outgoing props.”

“Go put comfortable clothes on,” Logan tells him. “I am going to the fabric store with Dad later today. I will take your measurements and you can come with us to find a fabric you like. I will make you a skirt that actually fits you.”

“You’d do that for me?!”

“Skirts are relatively simple garments to sew, provided you get the measurements correct. I cannot promise that it will be perfect, but I will work to make sure that it is comfortable and flattering on your form.” Roman bounces eagerly. “Can I hug you?”

Logan tilts his head, considering. “Ten seconds,” he decides, which is more than enough time. Roman pulls his brother into a hug, feeling Logan’s hand flap back and forth against his bag as he happily stims.

“I love you, Logan,” Roman says, squeezing him tightly. Logan hums at the pressure, pushing closer to his brother before leaning backwards to signal that he’s done being hugged. Roman lets him go, settling down at the table. He can change after breakfast.

(Two weeks later, Roman comes downstairs in a dark red circle skirt embroidered with golden stars and detailing. Logan hums, flapping and rocking happily when he sees Roman twirl around and show off the way the skirt flares around his thighs.

“It’s perfect, it’s perfect, I love it so much!” Roman squeals. “Thank you, Logan!”

Logan flaps even more in response.)

#starshinewrites #little and broken but still good #happy birthday roman sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #platonic tlamp #brotherly logince #romantic roceit

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tristanlovesthequeen · 3 years

Text

The Paddock

Tristan Chase Sparrowe

11/25/2016

The Bull

One day in the fall of autumn, when the moon is high and bright, orange in hue and full in complexion, when the clouds hang oppressively low in the sky I wandered through the meadow to the buffalo paddock, newly installed by decree of the mayor of San Francisco about two months ago.

The headlines in the newspaper were all the same, dismal in hue, recording the afterthoughts of the Mayor. “'The park commissioners expect soon to procure a buffalo cow who will lighten the hours of his confinement,' Harrison says”. Tomorrow the buffalo, Anastasius will be married to his bride-to-be, a new import from a ranch in Wyoming, where my uncle lives with his wife, and a dog, where they have retired and where my uncle hunts and participates in environmental conservation.

It's brisk, with many clouds of smoke blowing from the corners of my mouth into the Fall air. The grass has just been clear cut, and the smell invades my nostrils. The dew from the morning and previous evening cling to the individual hordes of grass scintillating in the dawn evening light. I have been up for a day and a night approximately and everything seems to vibrate around me.

I am here with a specific purpose. No one is around the buffalo paddock the night after Thanksgiving, the city itself is deserted, let alone the park and its many intertwining trails. I could walk for miles on these days in San Francisco, traversing the entire seven by seven without seeing a single person.

I reached into my backpack and extracted a long pair of bolt cutters I had purchased for a penny at Goodman Lumber two days ago.

A swift look to my left, and to my right, and into the stable at Anastasius as he sleeps. The strong bull grunts and twitches in his sleep as steam puffs from his nostrils. His side rises and falls as he breathes and his ears twitch a bit. It is a pity for such a sculptural beast to be imprisoned as he waits for a wedding he has no say in and a migration pattern that is now limited to across the paddock. Either way, an option might be a change of pace for him. A change of scenery, a chance to spread his wings before wearing his proverbial wedding ring around his hoof.

A link in the chain link fence snaps open and then another, and another as I make an archway about the size of an Ort cloud in the distance. Finally the metal links curl like a pad of melted butter to the wet grass. Anastasius sighs deeply and continues his dream. I ponder where he might be in his mind for a moment. The plains with his kin, avoiding native species of humans and the great white hunters of the fields where they used to graze. Possibly butting heads with an alpha male or turning on his heels to run. In space or in a hell like place, with demons floating above his massive cranium. An endless pasture where he sits in a cloud of cow fermones, butterflies braiding his mane.

I find myself walking a few paces ahead, erstwhile extracting the axe from a loop in the lining of my coat. I question my motives one last time before raising the axe above my head and, hearing the blade glint I let it fall into a mass of decomposing wood that surrounds the buffalo encasement. A crack resounds and a group of black birds flutter into the air squeaking as they fly. Anastasius stirs. I let the blade strike again, over and over until I break a hole in his cage. I kick the horizontal beams until they become diagonal and finally...

The bull's eye catches my attention. He has been watching me for some time. I breathe “You're free now lil' buddy,” and continue to circle around back towards the hole in the cyclone fence. Anastasius whines a bit. And grunts again.

I consider my motives and consider this new found freedom that I now share with the bull. It never felt like optimism to free the bull, just felt like a circumstance, a necessity, of the era that I live in. The symbolism of this pack animal now caged by himself, a migratory creature that is now forced to stay in one place. A metaphor for the elimination of the Native Americans who relied so heavily on the existence of the herd. And the grasses that cultivated with the motion of the species, and now wanes due to it's disappearance. What a pity. I wonder why he does not leap anymore, if he is lacking some sort of bacterial family in his gut or if his brain is lacking a certain chemical, why he has accepted his fate as a caged being, why he does not call out or try to create an alliance with a human to help facilitate his escape.

A mild panic surges through my veins and works its way into my knees making me weak for a spell. I tuck all my tools and hike back towards the main road. I decide to wait for a moment by a streetlamp and spark up a cigarette.

I think about the stars for a moment and try to locate Orion's belt. Somehow when compared to the power of the cosmos, my own worldly problems seem immaculately minuscule. And then came a dull rustle from the bushes lining the Fulton street border of the park. Anastasius slowly emerges from the darkness, then pauses, kicking his hind legs out to stretch. One, and then the other. A glow from my cigarette and the plume of smoke from my lungs catches his attention and he freezes.

Now that nothing is separating myself from such a large powerful animal I feel the weakness in my knees again and somehow the cigarette's effects seem more intense. I lower my head a bit to acknowledge his presence and say “fair thee well monsieur.” He lowers his head back at me and then he trots off in the direction of Ocean Beach.

His silhouette pirouettes and fades into the darkness of the night. When I arrive home I undress and lay in bed, and count to slow down my brain. Again I imagine the distance of the night sky, the size and millions of stars in the sky, compare them to the personalities here on earth and the endless multitudes of people. Once again I feel terribly small. Eventually I drift off and I, too am one with the cosmos.

The next day is the opening ceremony of the arrival of the new bison to the paddocks. Anastasius is to have a wife.

I make my way towards the modest crowd of people who have showed up to see the young bull procure a new wife. News teams are there and flashbulbs take snapshots of the Mayor arriving and emerging from his Lincoln town car led by police escort.

No one seems to suspect that Anastasius is not present, then again no one seems to care. The mayor stands up on a soapbox and gives a short speech, then motions like a circus conductor with his left hand to the truck containing the cow. Two men stationed on either side of the truck wearing overalls boots and golfers caps let down a metal ramp and a gate to the flatbed.

The cow, Anastasia, seems to be alarmed by the noise of the cheers of the crowd and the visage of a small excited yapping dog. She immediately starts to gallop into the paddock making a swift round and then charging out of the hole in the fence that I had cut the night before.

The music from the bandstand stops and the crowd gasps. The mayor throws his pork-pie hat to the ground and starts to shout at his assistants. A moment passes and sirens from firetrucks and police vehicles start to whine.

A large gap toothed grin stretches across my face. I laugh for a moment and then my forehead crinkles and I start to grimace. I don't pretend to understand what is going to happen to the bison nor do I feel guilt about setting them free. Seeing this crowd in a frenzy sets me off in an opposite trajectory from the crowd and the escaped cow.

That night at home with a hot toddie sitting by my wood burning stove with the neighborhood cat, Noodles, listening to the radio, the broadcast starts to announce, “In other news, police officials say they located the escaped buffalo which were to be married today on Ocean Beach and Ortega. The bull, Anastasius, and the cow, Anastasia were standing near the sea foam giving each other Eskimo kisses when authorities arrived. The mayor arrived shortly thereafter to find the police troop crying tears of joy. The band played “Auld lang syne” and the mayor hugged his wife. The mayor's assistants opened bottles of champagne and as the corks flew into the air the buffalo walked side by side down the coast.”

Noodles meowed and rolled around on his back.

Bibliography

1) http://www.sfgate.com/bayarea/article/Oldest-bison- at-Golden- Gate-Park- dies-at- 22-

5870761.php

2) http://www.sfgate.com/bayarea/article/Golden-Gate- Park-baby- bison-found- dead-

2443708.php

3) https://localwiki.org/sf/Golden_Gate_Park_Buffalo_Paddock

4) http://www.foundsf.org/index.php?title=Buffalo

http://poormagazine.org/node/5456

http://sheriffmichaelhennessey.com/Sheriffs_Stories/Getting_Buffaloed.html

“12 Short Stories of the Bison in Golden Gate Park.” JSTOR web article.

The Bison or Buffalo in the United States. The Indiana Quarterly Magazine of History, Vol 6. No.3 (September, 1910) pp. 114-117. Trustees of Indiana University. Http://www.jstor.org/stable/27785281. JSTOR web article.

Poaching Pictures Yellowstone. Buffalo and the Art of Wildlife Conservation. Alan C. Braddock. American Art, Vol 23, No.3 (Fall 2009), pp.36-59. The University of Chicago Press on behalf of the Smithsonian Institution.Http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/649775. JSTOR web article.

#Tristan Chase Arcelona

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patroclusonly · 4 years

Text

It’s not fair (until it is)

What do you mean I can’t write titles lmao.

Okay this got a little long and I feel like some parts are good and some parts are meh but yk it is what it is

Buck is an angel and deserves the world and he should get the apologies he deserves!

read on ao3

Buck had celebrated Hen’s win with the team.

After all, she had basically started a surgery on a moving ambulance and done it right, saving the guy’s life in the process. He was happy for her, she deserved the recognition. But then he overheard her and Bobby talking about how the hospital wasn’t going to present a formal complaint even though she broke many rules.

And Buck couldn’t help but think that if it had been him on that situation, he would at least get a suspension.

He was always the one punished in some way for every little thing. He was always the one naive and wrong that needed to be told that no, he couldn’t do that and because he did it, he had to pay for it somehow. And looking back at all the mistakes the rest of the team had made, he didn’t think that was fair.

He’ll admit, the first time he was fired, Bobby was right. He was irresponsible and immature and he learned and changed. Everything was fine for a while after that, but then he got crushed by the firetruck and he had to fight with everything in him to get back to his job.

Five months. It took him five months to heal and to do the physical therapy and to do all the training again for his recertification. He was so close.

And then the pulmonary embolism happened and everyone seemed to think he was too irresponsible with himself to be helping other people. When the reality was that he had been training, he thought he had overworked a muscle, how could he had known that he had blood clots. So then he had to step back and heal again, and he did. He didn’t like it, but he did. He waited patiently.

And then Bobby had admit to being the reason they wouldn’t let him go back to work. Buck had been so angry. The one person he trusted with everything had gone behind his back and kept him from doing what he loved. And when that lawyer had pointed out that he was being held back for being on blood thinners but Chimney had gone back to work less than a month later after having a rebar through his head and being stabbed multiple times, he had felt that anger again.

Because it wasn’t unfair. If he had gotten a cut while being on blood thinners, Chim and Hen would be there to patch him up right away. But if Chimney’s wounds weren’t properly healed and he had had internal bleeding, that would have been much more dangerous.

He didn’t have to go that far back to compare how different he was treated compared to the rest of them. Eddie had been street fighting and Bobby had found out. But he only got a warning and a pat in the back.

And Buck didn’t want them to be punished, not at all. He just wanted to understand why he was the one disfavoured every time. That thought stayed on his mind the whole day, leaving him with a bitter feeling.

The next weekend, they had gathered together for drinks at their usual bar. It had started great, he was enjoying spending time with everyone. But then they started talking about how great what Hen did was and that bitter feeling came back.

“Why is it that I am the only one punished for things?” He asked suddenly and everyone turned to him.

“What do you mean, Buck?” Chimney had asked after a moment of silent stares.

“Well, I was fired and kept from coming back to work for things much less relevant than some of the things that have happened to you guys, yet none of you has ever been suspended or anything.” He states frowning and everyone exchanged looks between them, not knowing what to say.

“You needed to learn the lesson, to understand that you can’t just get out of something serious and keep going like nothing happened. You have to be professional about some things.” Bobby explained carefully and Buck was taken aback. Tilting his head and narrowing his eyes, he sat straight on his chair.

“No. A lesson is something a father teaches his son. You’re not my father, Bobby, you’re my boss. And if that’s your reason, I think you were the unprofessional here.”

“There are rules to follow…” Bobby started but was interrupted.

“Hen broke the rules yesterday.” He said glancing in her direction. “What about that?” He asked, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

“Eddie put everyone at risk by street fighting and coming to work injured. That could have affected the whole team.” He said looking directly into Bobby’s eyes, ignoring how his friend tensed up beside him. “What about that?” His tone got angrier with each word.

“Chimney got a damn rebar through his head and got stabbed but less than a month later he was back in full duty again.” He got up abruptly. “What about that?” He pointed at the direction where Chimney was. Bobby stood up, looking calmly at him.

“Your situation was different, Buck.” He said but Buck was not having it.

“How was it different?” Buck scoffed angrily. “Because all I can see is me repeatedly getting screwed over and everyone else getting unlimited free passes.” He was raging now and his eyes were burning from keeping the tears at bay.

Everyone stared a him with concerned faces, probably because it wasn’t like him to get this angry, or angry at all. But he was done playing nice and taking the unfair treatment.

“Buck…” Maddie stood up slowly, ready to comfort her little brother.

“Tell me you don’t see how unfair it is.” He faltered, looking at everyone else on the table. He only got stares and bowed heads as a response so he scoffed bitterly and stormed out of the place. He heard Maddie calling out for him but he was too mad to care.

He got into his car and drove to his apartment. He got there and as soon as he was inside, he started crying. He knew now they probably would hate him, but he couldn't keep quiet anymore. He was starting to realize that he needed to stand up for himself because no one else was going to do it for him. Not even the people he considered family.

He let the tears fall for god knows how long, sitting against the door. Once he felt like he had no more tears left in him, he got up and went to the bathroom. A shower would calm him down enough to sleep.

He got ready for bed and was about to turn all the lights off when he heard a knock on the door. He decided to just ignore it, he didn’t think it would be someone from the team considering that it had been over an hour and they hadn’t even text him.

“Buck?” He heard Maddie’s voice as the door was closed. He sighed and walked down the stairs, not even looking at her and sitting in the couch.

“Everyone probably hates me.” He said, covering his eyes with his arm.

“No one hates you, Evan.” She sat next to him, putting a reassuring hand on his leg.

“Why wouldn’t they?” He uncovered his eyes, sinking further into the couch. “I basically told them they should have been reprimanded for their mistakes and that Bobby was wrong about everything.”

“They don’t hate you.” Maddie repeated, patting his knee. “If anything…” She stopped for a second, taking out her phone and typing something. “You made them see how wrong they were.” She finished and smiled at him. He frowned at her. Made them see?

Before he could ask her what she meant, the front door was being opened and everyone was coming into his apartment. He didn’t move, didn’t know what to do. But they seemed to have a plan because they gathered in front of him, smiling softly.

He looked at Maddie for answers but she just nodded her head and looked at the others.

“I’m sorry.” Bobby spoke, tone calm and gentle. “You were right. I let my worry for you cloud my judgment and I hurt you because of it. Athena warned me and I didn’t listen.”

“I sure did.” She interrupted and gave Buck a fond look at which he smiled.

“I know, I know.” Bobby continued, raising his hands in surrender. “And truly, Buck, I’m really sorry and I hope you can forgive me.”

“And us.” Chimney spoke up from the side, giving him a gentle smile.

“Yeah, Buckaroo. We’re really sorry, we haven’t been the best friends to you and that’s not fair because you’re always there for us.” Hen chimed in, looking at him with her head tilted to the side and a small frown.

“Hopefully, you’ll let us make it up to you.” Bobby smiled and everyone stared at him expectantly. He couldn’t help the smile that broke into his face.

“Okay.” He whispered and everyone cheered.

“Come on!” Maddie got up and he followed her, being pulled into a tight embrace by everyone around him.

“We love you Buckaroo.” Bobby told him once they broke apart and his smile got bigger.

“And I love you all.” He answered softly, eyes filling with tears again, but luckily this time they were from happiness.

--------

After their apologies, they ordered pizza and stayed together, talking, laughing. Buck was grateful for them and he was happy that they finally understood what he felt. But one person seemed off for Buck. Eddie. He hadn’t talked much since they got there and every time Buck looked at him, he was already looking back.

After about an hour, all of the sudden, he got up and looked at him.

“Buck, can I talk to you in private?” He walked away from the group and went up the stairs, not even waiting for Buck to answer. Buck watched him go and when he noticed everyone staring at him and Maddie nodding his head in the direction Eddie had left, he followed.

He heard everyone mumble unintelligible things while he was going up and once he got to his room, he saw as Eddie paced back and forth beside the bed.

“Everything okay?” He asked and Eddie’s head shot up.

“Uh…” He walked up to Buck, standing a few inches apart and hesitating for a second before going on. “I am sorry, okay?” He asked, looking up at Buck’s eyes.

“Yeah, you all said you were sorry, I forgave you. It’s okay.” Buck shrugged and gave him a little smile.

“No.” Eddie groaned and passes a hand over his face. “I am sorry. I told you I would always have you back and I didn’t. You were hurting and I didn't do anything about it.” He whispered the last part, arms slumped and looking down.

“Eddie, hey.” Buck draw his eyes back up, with a hand on his shoulder. “I understand, man. You were just following cap’s lead” He shrugged with one arm, a soft smile on his face to reassure his friend that he wasn’t mad anymore.

“But it’s not okay.” He shook his head, locking eyes with Buck. “I shouldn’t have shut you out. I was angry because it felt like you were leaving us, leaving me... and instead of reacting like a good friend and trying to understand your side of things, I reacted from pain and I got angry and distant to protect myself but I am sorry.”

“Eddie, I’m never leaving you.” Buck comforted him, pressing both hand softly on his shoulders and rubbing with his thumb. “Not as long as you want me to stay.”

“What if I want you to stay forever?” He said so quietly that Buck almost didn’t hear him being inches apart. But he did and his smile got so much bigger and Eddie looked at him cautiously, waiting for his answer.

“Then let’s hope Chris doesn’t get tired of me too soon.” He joked and Eddie finally relaxed, a shy smile appearing in his face.

“He’ll never get tired of you.” Eddie answered confidently, with a soft smile.

They stood there, smiling at each other. Neither of them wanting to break the warm atmosphere around them. Eddie darted a glance from Buck’s eyes to his lips and he flushed. Buck laughed softly.

“You okay?” He asked teasingly and Eddie flushed even harder and then took a deep breath.

“I’m about to do something risky and you should totally stop me if you don’t want to but…” He trailed out and looked at Buck’s lips again, leaning closer and leaving a soft kiss. He pulled away and Buck couldn’t help but chace his lips and bring him back in with a hand on neck.

The kiss was slow and tender, Buck’s hands keeping Eddie closer by his neck and Eddie’s cupped Buck’s face, stroking gently with his thumbs.

They pulled apart only because they had to breath. They pressed their foreheads together, eyes closed and fond smiles on their faces.

“You know I love you, right?” Eddie whispered, opening his eyes and looking into Buck’s.

“I do, but it’s nice to be reminded.” He answered and gave Eddie a quick peck. “I love you too.” Eddie brought him into an embrace, breathing in his scent and sighing in content.

“We should probably get back down there.” Buck finally said, laughing when Eddie groaned. “You can stay the night, though.”

“I’d love that.” Eddie answered, giving him a quick kiss and taking his hand, walking to the stairs.

Once they were downstairs, Eddie gave him a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth before going to sit on the couch and Buck could swear he almost melted for how gentle he was.

“Ha! Told you, pay up.” Hen said and Buck let out a laugh when everyone else started complaining, looking over at Eddie who was smiling back.

Now his family saw him, understood him and was there for him. At last, he knew, he would be all right.

Tagging: @diazbuckleysworld @captainstennerstar @reachgirl I hope you like it!!

#911 fic #911 fox #buddie #firefam

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wenttworth · 4 years

Text

Yuuri burrowed deeper into his scarf and jumped from foot to foot. He squinted at the name of the building, compared the Cyrillic with the message he’d been sent, and walked in.

The sudden warmth was a relief, though he did have to wipe his glasses when they fogged up. He baulked at the sudden Russian as he approached the front desk.

God, he wished Viktor were with him, but when he’d suggested it Yakov had gone puce and ranted about training and Worlds and did he want to keep his title or not?

“Um, English?” he asked.

The receptionist blinked. “You’re Yuuri Katsuki, yes?”

Yuuri affirmed, and she led him to the back, chatting about what he should expect of that day. She left him with the designer, who also talked, about his ‘vision’ or something. Yuuri wasn’t really paying attention.

“So, for the photoshoot, we have four or five different outfits. They have been fitted to your measurements, so if you would like to keep them you’re free to.” She passed him the first outfit, a white shirt with lace panels that revealed more than it covered. As if he could wear that in public, but at least Viktor would enjoy it. “You can leave your clothes here. Come next door when you’ve changed and we’ll get you through hair and makeup.”

Once it was on, he had to admit that the lace panels looked good. Viktor really would enjoy it.

He was about to take a picture—to send to Phichit, Viktor would appreciate the surprise when Yuuri returned to St Petersburg—when his phone buzzed with an incoming text from Viktor.

Found an antique mirror at the market this morning!

Another buzz.

Miss you.

Yuuri sighed. They’d taken to going to the market every week and Viktor always found something to bring home, paintings and vases that he would either keep or give away.

A photo came through, and Yuuri downloaded it immediately, almost dropping his phone when it came through.

The mirror was nice, slightly worn gold gilding, intricate, curling carving around the frame. But Yuuri couldn’t focus on that. Viktor was in the mirror, sitting on his heels with his knees spread to reveal tight silk underwear that did very little to hide anything. The silvery silk continued with a short dressing gown, loosely tied, falling off one shoulder. Yuuri had left a bruise on that shoulder just before he had left for Moscow. Even stockings that finished halfway up his thighs.

Yuuri stared hard at the peek of abs, the one pink nipple he could see, the small bruise near his collarbone. There was a knock at the door and he jumped, going to open it.

“Are you ready, Yuuri?”

“Yes! Sorry,” he said, hiding his phone in his bag and following to hair and makeup.

Photoshoots were always long and boring in a studio, holding the same position for minutes at a time before changing incrementally, and today, knowing what was on his phone made it even worse. He couldn’t help thinking about what Viktor might be doing, how the silk must feel against his skin, pushing the gown off his shoulders to mark that perfect skin even more... he swallowed and forced Viktor from his mind. Uhh... walking Makkachin (Makkachin tripping Viktor over so he would fall into Yuuri’s arms), skating (Viktor skating in those stockings and that gown), Yakov (...oh, that worked).

When it was finally over and he’d been given boxes with the clothes he’d worn—‘Dry clean only,’ the designer had insisted before handing them over—and Yuuri hurried back to the hotel, the only thought in his head to call Viktor.

He checked the time and his heart ached. Still seventeen hours before he could be in Viktor’s arms again. He hated being apart.

Calling Viktor as soon as he’d shut the door and dropped the boxes on the floor, he collapsed face first onto the bed.

“I’m at practice so behave,” was the first thing Viktor said, and Yuuri laughed.

“Oh, you hypocrite. Do you have any idea what it was like at that stupid photoshoot after seeing that picture?”

“I can guess,” he answered, a teasing smile in his voice that Yuuri ached to kiss away. “Do you like the mirror?”

“I preferred what was in the mirror. Next time you’re coming. No matter what Yakov says. Just imagine, a whole hotel room going to waste.”

There was a small hitch in Viktor’s breath. “We’ll make good use of it when you get back.” Angry shouting from somewhere in the rink. Viktor sighed. “Break’s over,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Okay. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Wow, your expression is... intense in these,” Viktor said, staring at Yuuri’s screen with a light blush on his cheeks.

Yuuri’s face, meanwhile, was probably bright firetruck red. Very unattractive next to the dawn colour on Viktor’s cheekbones. He hid his face.

“Urgh,” he groaned. “This is so embarrassing.” Viktor pulled his hands away to kiss his cheek. The clothes had already been fairly revealing and risqué, but his expression, eyes dark and intense, suggested way more.

“I’m kind of jealous that other people will see this,” Viktor said, a laugh in his voice. His hand was slowly inching up Yuuri’s thigh, and Yuuri snapped the laptop shut. He wrapped his arms around Viktor’s neck to pull him closer.

“Surely the real thing is better?”

#viktor is a tease and yuuri can't get enough of it #yuri on ice #vikturi #viktuuri #my writing #there were probably a lot of step on me daddy comments when the photos went live because honestly

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gloriafc · 4 years

Text

Beginning of a beautiful relationship: Evan Buckley

*SWAT crossover*

Athena was the one to introduce you to Buck. You were both out eating lunch catching up, she was once your mentor who pushed you towards joining SWAT. You looked up to her, and often asked her for advice.

Bobby came by, to say a quick hi. Seeing the two of you while he was out with Eddie, Buck, Chimney, and Hen. You met Bobby when he and Athena first got married, but it's always been quick hello's before you would get pulled into work.

"It was nice seeing you Bobby, Athena, but work is calling." "You told me you had the day off." "Guess it's a big case. Promise we'll do this again soon."

You're quick to pull Athena into a hug before rushing out of the cafe to your car. Athena noticing the boy she treats like a son, staring at the girl she's practically watched grow up.

"Now buck, standing there with your mouth open is not how you get a girl's number." "I wasnt- no-"

Athena's quick to grab the small to-go box with her left overs before putting her sunglasses on and looking at him, "Her names Y/N. Something tells me you'll be seeing her again soon."

The next time Buck sees you is a small Carnival at Christopher's school. Bobby mentioned the fire department letting the kids interact with the fire truck during dinner one night, and you mentioned it to Jessica, who decided to let the team bring Black Betty to the school for the kids.

Everyone sets up before the kids are let loose and allowed to explore the different cop cars, firetruck, Black Betty, and different activities. Athena makes her way over along with Bobby to where you're standing next to your team.

She happily pulls you into a hug, "Look at you!" "Thanks to you. Don't think I would've actually joined if you didn't push me to."

After talking for a little while, you turn when a kid makes his way over along with two other firefighters. Bobby quick to introduce you, "Y/N this is Christopher. Eddie's his dad, and then this is Buck."

You quickly shake their hands before making small talk. As you talk you help the kids climb inside Black Betty. By the time the carnival is over and everyone is packing up, you've managed to swap numbers with Buck.

From her spot next to Bobby, near the food stands, Athena stands satisfied while Bobby tells her, "No more medaling." "Someone has to make sure buck doesn't mess this up for himself." Bobby can't do anything except shake his head and throw an arm over his wife's shoulders.

By the end of the month you and buck have managed to start talking, not yet starting a relationship. The one thing you're cautious of, is the work you both do. They're both time consuming and can be dangerous.

Buck always imagined what you did when you got a call at work but never thought he'd experience it first hand.

When everyone was told to stay back during a call, everyone looked around confused until SWAT pulled up, Buck instantly recognizing your bun alongside your roommates small ponytail.

Normally you're a very happy go lucky person, but seeing you look so serious didn't sit well with him. Even though he knows how much you love your job, to him you're the tiny girl he's quickly falling for, one he doesn't want to see get hurt.

Everyone watches waiting for Hondo's command, not able to move and head into the building due to a hostage situation.

"Hondo, I got an idea." "Anything helps right now." You point to the ladder on the firetruck. "They're waiting at the door. They'll kill the kids as soon as we get the doors open. They won't hear the ladders and the windows are covered they won't see us enter through the windows on the top floor." Hondo's quick to nod before splitting everyone up.

You're quick to run towards the crew of firefighters, Jim and Deacon following you. Quickly climbing up the side of the firetruck, "Bobby! Get me to that window!" He's quick to move and before you know it you feel the ladder move under you, everyone's eyes on you as you wait for Hondo or Jessica's command.

As soon as the three of you enter the building it's a waiting game for everyone else. Eddie having to comfort his worried friend.

Bobby sets a hand on bucks shoulder, "She'll be fine, she's tough. This is what she's trained to do. The only people getting hurt are the ones who try to hurt her or her team."

Buck feels his heart race when gunshots are heard, resulting in the rest of the swat team to quickly enter the building. Quickly taking a deep breath when he hears your voice over the intercom, "All clear, send in medical."

Buck is the last one to enter, more worried to see you hurt than anything else. He feels relieved when he sees you're okay and you seem uninjured, before quickly helping the capable hostages out of the building.

Helping the last of the hostages outside, Buck is quick to make his way over towards you, seeing you sitting on the back of the ambulance with Bobby wiping stuff on your face.

Eddie and Bobby both try and calm him down back at the station, seeing him have an inward battle with himself, most likely about you.

"You have to calm down Buck. It was a small cut on her forehead. You saw the guy, he was way worse than her. She did that, I heard her two teammates talking. A small cut is nothing compared to what she can do." "You don't get it! Som-" "Something way worse could of happened. We know. We all met her. We care about her but this is what she has been trained to do. You don't think she doesn't worry when you come into work and have to run into a burning building before it collapses?" "..." "Buck. Our jobs have us living in a day to day life. We don't know what's going to happen each day. It's obvious you have something to tell her, so do it before something happens and makes you regret it. How you're feeling today will only get worse with each day you hold off."

With a nod from Bobby, Buck is quick to change into his regular clothes before heading to your house. Seeing you're not home he sits on the small porch you have with his leg bouncing until he hears your car pull up.

"Hey! What are you doi-" You don't get to finish your sentence before he pulls you into a kiss, quickly kissing back, your words completely forgotten.

By the time the sun has gone down, he can happily call you his girlfriend as he watches you laugh at something stupid he said. Chris coming home to the two of you singing badly to the music playing from your phone as you make brownies. Your team soon getting a message from her that you now have a boyfriend, resulting in your phone blowing up with messages from your nosy friends. "Chris!" "I'm just the messenger!"

When Bobby comes home from a shift of Buck happily talking about his new girlfriend and the weekend he had with her, he let's it slip to Athena, who stops what she's doing. "He actually did it?" "Yup. Same day as that hostage situation in the abandoned building apparently." "Really? I knew they were talking, but I didn't know they were that serious yet." Bobby shrugs with a smile, "He was freaking out about the cut she got, Eddie talked him into talking to her about his feelings." "Either way, it's the beginning of a beautiful relationship. They were made for each other."

#evan buckley #swat imagines #911 imagine #evan buckley imagine

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katsukikitten · 4 years

Text

Once upon a time

A/N welcome to day three (almost day four. Nothing like procrastinating) of Kitten's valentines day event. Here is a request by anon for a cinderella au with those horrid red crocs. I tried blending seriousness with a touch of comedy (God knows I specialise in angst) hopefully it comes off well. Bone apple teeth.

The ball to find your prince was tonight. A long awaited night as you brush your hair staring into the vanity. Lips and cheeks painted with light pinks with a blush dress to match. The dress acting as a preview for what is to come, a mock wedding dress if you will. Elegantly and obnoxiously long train, paired with the classic princess ball gown that flairs at your waist.

Heart pounding in your chest you stand waiting in your glass slippers, hair braided and pinned half up and half down to frame your face as it trundles down to your delicate shoulders.

"And now for our lady of the night, Princess Y/N!" A quick gulp before you step through the opening doors, smiling brightly at the throngs of men who have attended all wearing masks of blinding colors in hopes to be seen.

To be remembered.

Your night is spent mostly whisked around in nauseating circles handed off from man to man. You go from two toned hair, to a blabbering bright blonde, passed off to a jaded eyed man before you're head is spinning.

The jade eyed man is, how can you put it nicely?

Well you can't he's boring. An utterly ball of nerves boring. His hands are slick with sweat and he can barely hold eye contact to save his life as he says sorry every step of the dance despite not making a single error.

"May I?" A smooth voice inturrpts the emerald eyes apologies. You drink in the handsome man in stunning deep red that makes his gem eyes pop. Finaly excited for the first time tonight.

"Y...you may." He stammers passing your hand to a calloused hard working hand. A feeling you are unused to as most of the other men's hands were smooth. His other hand finds the small of your back as he sweeps you into a pleasantly slow paced dance.

"Your name my dear?" The first you've asked for this whole night. He smiles a sharp toothed smile as his velvet voice caresses your before agitated nerves.

"Ejirou." A shiver runs down your spine as you fixate on this stunning broad shouldered man.

Another turn before you notice that he has swept the two of you onto one of the many balconies just off of the hall.

"Ah look at the moon over head Eijirou!" He hates to admit that he loves the sound of his name on your lips. He bites his own trying and failing to remind himself that he does not truly belong here.

But a night with a beautiful princess is all he ever wished for.

You brace yourself agaisnt the railing as you stare into the face of your favorite celestial body. All the while ruby eyes watch your dainty form.

"Isn't it beautiful?" You sigh melting as you swoon over your first love. Eijirou places his hand on the balcony around you, pressing his hip to yours.

"No where near as beautiful as you." He breaths, leaning down to kiss feather soft lips. Rough hand pulling a slender waist impossibly closer as he deepens the kiss.

Bells chime overhead causing him to gasp out.

"Its midnight." He sounds panicked as he tries to take a step back. Eyes frantically looking for the exit.

"Why yes," You blink confused, hand clutching his blood red lapel, "But the party is until sunrise."

"I've got to go. Now. I'm sorry." He says as he rushes away while you're right on his heels.

Although he is much faster and much more hardy than you. You stop to catch your breath as he rushes down the endless stairs in front of the castle.

"Eijirou how will I find you?" He stops short at your request turning ever so slightly, disappointment and sadness well in his eyes as he answers.

"You can't." Another chime rings out sending him into a full on sprint as one of his blood red dress shoes fall wayward on the long stair case. You rush to clutch onto the shoe another chime rings out and by some magic the deep crimson dress shoe distorts into something horrifyingly grotesque.

A birght red slipper with holes and a band that would sit atop the heel or the top of the foot depending if one wanted it to be in "sport" mode or not.

You scrunch your nose especially after seeing little charms of different shapes and sizes ranging anywhere from a fire truck to the classic cartoon meat bone.

"What the fuck?" You murmur to yourself as you look over the odd shoe, debating if it would be worth it to attempt to find the handsome man with terrible taste in footwear.

A flash of ruby red burns hot in your memory as you stand calling off the rest of the ball to summon your best scouts.

"We will go over the entire land to see who fits this shoe!"

True to your word you spend countless weeks that bleed into months exhausting all resources to find your prince charming.

Men across the nation line up outside of their homes in hopes of fitting the red shoe. Some men spy the shoe and turn inside, while others step out in a clearly immitated bright red holed filled slipper.

Still your search is fruitless as you begin to run out of both men and houses to check. You stand in front of your last house for the day as two men rush from the door as a window shutter is slammed shut overhead.

"Princess!" They sing song in unison, "We brothers are the owner of the shoe!"

Your eyes rove over a bright blonde male and a short purple haired boy whose eyes pop from their sockets as they stare at your form. Even as you're wearing pants.

"Hmmm, my prince to be had red hair." You state, "Men we are mistaken let us leave at once."

"W..wait your highness, you have not even tried to place it on our feet yet! At least give us that much." They beg as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Fine." With a snap of your fingers the horrific item is presented to you atop a velvet black pillow. You grab onto the item and place it to where a foot can be slipped in.

The blonde tries first, his toes poking out through some of the holes, popping out a fire truck charm as he attempts to shove his foot in.

Immediately you withdraw to present the shoe to the small boy. His foot barely fills the slipper causing a great sigh to leave your lips.

Tears threaten to spill over as you think that you may never find your one true love. You place the slipper back onto its pillow before you begin to climb the stairs to your carriage.

"Princess wait!" That velvet voice you had grown to love shouts as your frantically look for the source. He comes out in tattered clothes, soap suds clinging to his elbows as stains litter the cloth.

All the while the other two men are dressed in finary that could rival your own.

You look down to see he is wearing what must be the other slipper. As more of those ghastly charms twinkle in the dying light of the sun.

"Ah this is just our step brother. Please pay him no mind." The blonde says before elbowing him harshly, "Get back into the house you idiot!"

He clutches the scrub brush in his hands, ruby eyes glancing between you and his evil step brothers. He turns on his heel only for you to shout, fearing you may lose the man of your dreams again.

"No, he will be sized by the shoe. Should it fit he is mine to wed." The slipper is brought back to you once more, delicate hands wrap around the bright material as the red head presents his foot to you.

The God awful footwear fits and tears of joy stream down your face.

"E...Eijirou is it really you?" He nods shyly, embarrassed that he is in essentially a potato sack compared to what he wore the night he met you.

It was all with the help of an angry godfather who loomed in the courtyard the night of your ball.

"So you're just gonna let these assholes tell you you can't go?!" The Godfather had yelled, fingers popping with magic.

"Don't be a bitch." He bites out, turning a rotting carcass into a stunning white horse, "You're going and that's final."

Popping hands burning through Eijirou's tattered rags. Just a Phoenix something new rises from the ash. A beautifully tailored suit adorned with a bright red mask glimmering in the night like sparkling rubies.

"But you have until midnight to get the hell out of there." The GodFather snarls, "What are you waiting for a fucking invitation? Go kiss the damn girl! Just remember I said midnight and don't fuck this up."

He had left after that in an oversized explosion leaving nothing behind but the smell of sweet burning caramel.

Eijirou silently thanked the Godfather as he spun his princess around, cheeks burning from smiling so hard and feet sheathed in firetruck red crocs.

And they lived happily ever after.

#kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou #eijiro x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha eijiro kirishima #eijirou kirishima imagine #bnha eijirou #bnha ask #bnha cinderella au #bnha au #kitten valnetines day event!#ask kitten #bnha event

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the-greatest-story-untold · 4 years

Text

Dear Dream

I know I am so ridiculously late.

But hey, better late than never...

To NCT Dream,

The baby unit of NCT.

The unit of young souls tasked to bring hope and endurance to the world's youths.

The superior unit.

Your current average age is 19.5 years old… barely an adult.

Yet, you have a career that's gone strong for four years (and definitely still counting).

I am not a veteran of the KPop scene so I do not know if your 'formula' has been tried before i.e. a band comprising of literal teenagers to be the inspiration for an entire generation of youths. Most bands I knew had teenagers that were mostly above 16 when they debut and even so, there will be older members in the band.

When you started off in 2016, your oldest member was only 17 years old, and your youngest was 14!

It must have been surreal to have begun your journey as singers, dancers, performers and artists at such a young age!

The music/entertainment industry is very much an 'adult' world. Yet here you are, barely grazing adulthood but already trusted into the bright lights and blazing life of entertainment.

It must have been scary.

But you've made it.

One of you've graduated and became an adult. 4 of you've grown to become adults. One more has just reached his adulthood milestone. And then there's one left.

You guys have grown so, so much. And you guys have grown up so well. You need all the congratulations the world can offer.

You grew up in the limelight of the Kpop industry, in the new age of social media flurry, and in the unprecedented era of KPop world domination.

You grew up well, so well. You've made it.

Your journey is still long and for all the good things in this world, I hope your journey remains long and prosperous.

I have to say, I am very surprised for the affection I feel towards you.

I admit I was weary to 'get into' NCT Dream because of your ages. I felt very uncomfortable that you were very young. Jisung sweetheart, you are a decade my junior.

It felt very strange for me to see what I viewed as literal children to be thrown into limelight.

My experience with childhood stardom is very limited to the Hollywood scene. I've heard what exposure to stardom can do to children. Especially as they grow into teenagers and young adults. It's kinda scary.

But I forgot. Though you may be in the same 'industry' i.e. entertainment; your cultures are so vastly different.

Sure, there have been infamous stories too about the KPop entertainment industry. It is as notorious as Hollywood. There have definitely been stories about your company.

When you first debuted in 2016, I've been listening to KPop for about 4 years. I wasn't an avid fan nor that big of a multi stan. I was a fan of your seniors: EXO.

The change of OT12 to OT9 was definitely an experience for me and it was difficult not to see kpop in tainted lenses after that.

So when I found out that a group of 7 with an average age of just 15.7 years (not even 16!) was to be debuted, I was quick to dismiss it.

You were too young in my eyes.

1. It felt like exploitation. 2. Your concept was too bright for me to appreciate.

So I paid you no attention.

And honestly, I had not paid attention to your brother units either when they debuted (NCT U with the 7th Sense and NCT 127 with Firetruck).

My attention in NCT officially started in 2018, when NCT2018 started. I knew of NCT’s general concept and units, so I was aware of the existence of Dream. I saw you guys appear on Weekly Idol with your hyungs. And that's about it.

I remained fairly distant with Dream for some time, focusing mainly on NCT 127 as they gained momentum in their American debut with Regular.

I continued telling myself that you were too young for my taste. Furthermore, Mark and Haechan were the maknaes of 127, so that solidified my thinking of the seven of you as mere 'babies'.

But as the end of 2018 approached, two significant episodes occured that brought more of my attention to you.

First, Mark was graduating.

I still wasn't an avid fan let alone an NCTzen at that time. I did not keep up with your updates and I do not follow you on any social media platforms. My 'news' of NCT only came in the form of recommended videos on YouTube.

Somehow, Mark's graduation became significant enough to manifest as recommended content on my YouTube recommendations. I was aware of Dream's graduation concept and since I've not invested in the unit, it bothered me not.

The Dream Show happened but it is not exactly fully available online, so I wasn't really aware of its occurrence. I only knew that Mark had officially graduated because of the 'farewell' video on NCT's channel.

I still wasn't fazed much by this as I was generally accepting of the graduation concept. We all grow up and graduation is just part of life. Welcome to adulthood, champ.

What caught my attention was how affected fans were because of this. There were so many videos of 'why mark/7Dream will be missed'. I brushed it off, understanding that Dreamzens were teenagers and emotions run high in that life period.

Then the next major event happened: Haechan/Donghyuck's injury.

It was only at this time that I was fully aware of 'MarkHyuck'. I saw a glimpse of it before but I dismissed it. However, with Haechan out of commission, it spiked.

I am not a shipper. I don't really have that much of an interest in wanting the pairing to be together. But one thing I have definitely developed during this period, was the solid support of Mark's and Haechan's Best Friends Forever friendship.

Perhaps I was more open to the two of you compared to the rest of the Dreamies since I see you interact within 127 more. Perhaps I was more attentive because you both were in 127 and I was at that time paying attention to 127.

Either way, when fans started pointing out how sad it was that the BFFs had to split, I had a small 'aww' moment.

Then what made me went absolutely 🥺 was Mark's year end performances with the Dreamies but it was already 6Dream instead of full strength.

There was that one year end event when Dream performed 'We Go Up' and it appeared to be that Renjun seemed to be sniffling. Of course, fans were quick to interpret it as sadness and all started lamenting that it was the last performance of Mark with Dream in year end promotions but Mark's best friend wasn't there.

Wow, fans are dramatic.

I wasn't hooked but I felt the sadness. I know fans were just projecting their own emotions into what happened and we eventually found out that Renjun was sniffling because he had a nosebleed earlier, not because he was crying.

This somehow made me curious about Dream… and I guess that begun my journey in getting to know Dream.

I think partly because 127 was on tour in 2019 and it was their official tour. Partly also because WayV officially debuted in 2019. But NCT content was aplenty. I've also subscribed to the NCT channel at this point so my notifications were dinging all the time.

So naturally, with more exposure to NCT, comes more interest in knowing all of you.

I have never been the 'stan only one unit' type of fan. Remember, I officially got into NCT from NCT2018, when 18 of y'all are actively promoting. I am not afraid of your ‘big ass group’ concept.

So as my interest in NCT grows, I figured it was time to know every unit better then. With 127 busy with tour, they were already releasing the Hit the States series on top of their tour, and planning a comeback mid tour. I know content will be readily available. I just had to wait.

WayV was also new so LABEL V was pumping content heavily to promote them. Again, this means content is easily available.

What was missing, was Dream content. With Mark graduated, Haechan injured and then automatically roped in with 127 for their tour, where does that leave the other members?

So I got curious. I wanted to know more about Dream but there aren't current content. What do I do? Well, dig into past content.

Chewing Gum.

I have come across it before, a long time ago probably in 2016 when it first released. I dismissed it so fast, I did not watch it fully.

I think I was still fairly new to KPop and the 'cutesy' bubblegum pop concept did not sit well with me. So anything remotely adorable was dismissed.

Unfortunately, Chewing Gum was the epitome of cute. You guys were so small. So young! Your voices… 😅

However when I started getting into NCT and because I was eager to really learn about Dream, I sat through it. But barely. I kept cringing. Sorry.

After finishing it, I felt like I had done it injustice. But I still wanted to know more about you guys! So I changed tactics.

I started with We Go Up. At least I was familiar with it. And I didn't watch the videos. I just listened to the song. Slowly, I moved down to Go, We Young, My First and Last, and finally, Chewing Gum.

Honestly, it took me some time to get used to. Obviously Dream was very different from 127. So I really had to focus to listen to Dream.

I don't know what was the turning point. I don't recall what made me suddenly enjoy your content but it happened. I find myself looking forward to listening to your songs. I actually felt genuine unadulterated fun.

Chewing Gum got into my head and I kept hearing 'Ch-ch-ch-ch-chewing Gum' on replay in my head. I eventually succumbed and went to watch the M/V again. And this time, I enjoyed it! I still cringed, lol. But I was able to enjoy the song instead of let the overload of cute affect me.

I also came across the hoverboard version and BAM! I was awed.

I was very much the typical millennial that dismissed hoverboards as 'the new trend' that was too beneath my generation (*scoff* I am such an elitist).

So I knew it was trending and everywhere. But seeing these 7 teens actually performing synchronized choreography in addition to using a hoverboard without breaking a sweat, I was amazed. Omg, how? The dedication, the training, the effort!

It was then I thought that you guys weren't the usual teenagers I see on the street (whom I am so secretly terrified of btw). You guys are the dedicated hardworking types. The one I'm definitely intimidated by. Only because I never had the same drive when I was that age. (Pssst...There's jealousy in that too...)

I began thinking to myself, I've got to give them credit. I can't be an ageist. Just because I have my own issues and insecurities about being a lazy bum as a teenager, I shouldn't project it on these 7 teens who are already contracted to work and dedicate the rest of the young lives to their art.

That was how I started watching more NCT Dream content on YouTube. Your music videos, fancams, fanmade content etc.

I was slowly but surely falling for your charms.

I must also admit, at that period in time, I was fast becoming a big fan of Haechan.

Maybe due to his temporary break during his injury, I had a lot of 'missing you' content recommended to me. I clicked them all and really, I fell in love with his voice.

I had also then started following alot of NCT content on Twitter and IG. With 127 on tour and Haechan back in business with the North American tour, there were alot of celebratory tweets and IG posts about his comeback.

I knew Haechan was a vocalist but I suddenly saw an influx of his dance on my social media. It got me curious and I admit I watched quite a bit of Haechan fancam.

Then, it was announced NCT127 was coming for a concert to my country. And I went for it. My first concert in my 27 years of life. No regrets. I LOVED IT. Plus, my interest in Haechan soared too.

His dance break? In that one little segment? Was enough to sell me.

Highway to Heaven? Superhuman? YAAS.

And then mere days after the concert, We Boom happened.

And wow. We Boom era was a beautiful awakening for me.

You were all still teenagers, technically. Sure, the 00 liners we adults in Korea, but internationally, y'all haven't reached 20.

Still it didn't stop the multiple outpouring of congratulatory messages for all four of you in reaching adulthood.

So I figured if y'all see yourselves as adults, you're officially adults then.

And I think that was the mental barrier that had been putting me off. As much as I don't want to be one, I am sort of an ageist. It really took you 4 being 'official' adults plus one graduated member, for me to pass my own ageist thoughts before deciding you are more than talented.

Any who, with my increased interest in Haechan and my own moral dilemma out of the way, I started to genuinely enjoy your music.

First and foremost, I loved Haechan's look in We Boom era. Him in the suit, in the denim outfit, his hair up? Yes.

Secondly, Jeno and Jaemin. You are always together and even in your growth you are on par. I see the effort you're putting in your gym sessions…

Last but not least, Renjun. Hello, you turned fine. You had the mullet for a moment and I wasn't a huge fan but you still looked fine.

The 00 liners grew up good. I was barely into Dream but even I saw the differences. I was impressed and honestly, felt proud of you despite knowing none of you. Yet I felt affirmed that you’ve worked hard. And this was solely on your appearance alone.

We Boom was also my first journey in listening to your side tracks. And I loved every single one of them.

Again, the talk about graduation came back up. 4 members are meant to graduate by end 2019. What will become of NCT Dream?

We Boom is the first 6Dream album, will it be the last? It probably is?

We Boom had Best Friend and Dream Run. Somehow, it felt a lot like a goodbye message. A graduation gift in a sense. It made a lot of fans feel nostalgic for Mark. It made a lot of fans wonder the fate of Dream. You've worked hard, every single one of you. What's going to happen to all of that?

Soon, end of the year was approaching. However, there is still no news about Dream's fate.

BUT. SM decided to spring a Dream concert on the fans.

Some theories suggested it was to appease the fans who were getting antsy about the lack of news. Some suggested it was a ruse to give fans false hope before SM pulls the plug altogether on Dream. Some dreamt it was a sign they were continuing and not disbanding… soon there were (louder) chants for Dream to be a fixed unit.

I was never very bothered by the graduation concept as mentioned earlier. To me, even if the 00 liners had to graduate, I was fine. What I wasn't fine with: what is their next step?

The radio silence from SM was starting to err me. Fan worries online were also starting to get under my skin. Will Dream disband? As much as I love Haechan, I do admit it was unfair that only he has the clearest path. He had 127.

What about Jeno and Jaemin?

Jeno who had stepped up as the leader of the sextet. Who have so bravely led his team mates in his strong silent resilience.

Jaemin who is all smiles and love for his Czennies. Who had sat out an entire year of promotions to heal from a back injury and then dived straight back into their intense choreography and keeping up with his mates with smooth ease.

Then there were Renjun and Chenle; at least they had the possibility of WayV. And although that's a possibility that seemed so distant, at least it was possible.

Jisung was a rising dance machine. He raps well enough and has stable enough vocals that he has potential for a solo career if all goes south. Otherwise, he was still young enough to be able to sustain the Dream name, perhaps with a new set of members.

Either way, it was all the same. The future of these young teens were too uncertain.

Dream, you are seven youths with so much potential. This is solely on the pure fact that you are still so young. You've achieved so much but for your futures to be so vague felt extremely unfair.

And that's when I realise I will stand by Dream.

Sure, I used to gripe about our age differences. But then I realised it was your youth that I should be supporting. It was the idea of everlasting friendship that should be preserved here.

Dream was so very much 7 members that even with Mark graduated, in that whole year of him not promoting with Dream, it still felt like he was there because you guys are literal friends with each other. You are not just colleagues that will part at the end of the day once work is done. You're legitimate friends.

And that is what I want to protect.

Call me nostalgic or old but being in a period of time in my life where my social relationships are starting to change as my friends get married and become attached, or grow more interested in building a family rather than finding a cute boy, I must have projected my own feelings of loss onto Dream.

Aren't y'all suppose to be the embodiment of youth, hope and (pardon the pun) dreams?

The bulk of that was formed during my teenage years for me, in the bonds I've created with my own group of girlfriends. The five of us have been together since 13 years old and although we never had the same intensity of an emotional rollercoaster that comes with stardom, I understand the reluctance to let go of a friendship that has lasted so long.

When I see the Dreamies have fun, joking around and sassing around, I am reminded of my girlfriends when we laze about and sass during our staycation.

When I see the Dreamies tired and exhausted but still so present for each other during practice and rehearsals, I am reminded of my girlfriends and the days we studied together for our national exams.

When I see the Dreamies cry because of an uncertain future, I see my girlfriends worried about the next stage of our lives and the fear of being unprepared.

That homely dependence; the family reliance on one another… these are sentiments that actually my girlfriends and I may not exactly feel. For as much as we've been friends for so long, we've never really had a tumultuous lifestyle.

But the Dreamies, you did. You had to be away from family, practice from dusk till dawn, sacrificed school experiences for idolhood, lose out on a 'normal teenage life'.

Sure, you chose this life. You've made your beds and now you must lie in it. What's inspiring is: you're so willingly diligent in doing so.

That, I feel is your most praiseworthy trait.

And I understand that you were able to do this because you've had each other.

And I feel so proud of that friendship you’ve made with each other.

So Dream, congratulations on your fourth year. Congratulations on all your hard work and sacrifices.

Remember, you are still young. You do not owe the world anything but to live your young lives well.

You've made so many sacrifices and earned scars along the way. But you've become better and stronger with them.

You taught me to treasure the friendship I have made in my youth and perhaps a little lesson or two about mourning the loss of friendship.

I wish you all the best. I want to hug you so much and pat you on your heads. And yet at the same time show you off like a proud parent.

I am sure your parents are all proud of you. Every single one of you.

Keep up your good work. You are doing well.

Remember to rest when you need to. You are only human and doing your best can only be meaningful if you are well and healthy.

Congratulations on becoming 7Dream again, I look forward to your comeback.

Keep at it, keep smiling, keep singing, keep dancing.

To Mark Lee, thank you for being the diligent leader to the Dreamies. You've led them well. Hopefully they don't trouble you too much now that you're back.

To Lee Jeno, thank you for being the pillar and unwavering captain of the ship. You have a strong presence about you but yet so gentle and considerate.

To Huang Renjun, thank you for your wisdom and efforts. You put in so much work in reaching out to your fans and listening to their troubles and worries.

To Lee Haechan, thank you Full Sun. You have been so hard working, haven't you. I know you like being busy and I feel relieved that you know too that you should rest well. Keep shining, love.

To Na Jaemin, ohmygosh you are so precious. You are so loving and so sweet. You deserve all the happiness in the world for the magnitude of kindness and compassion you exude.

To Zhong Chenle, thank you for your hard work. You seem to be so effortless in covering and carrying the vocals of your songs together with Renjun. Yet you are always doing it with your boisterous laugh.

To Park Jisung, thank you for your youth. You've spent your entire childhood in the industry and made many sacrifices, more than peers of your same age. Thankfully you've gotten friendship with your team mates and I hope you'll continue to receive all the love and support.

With love.

#NCT #nct dream #nct dream anniversary #nct mark #nct jeno #nct renjun #nct haechan #nct jaemin #nct chenle #nct jisung #yo dream #dear dream

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staticscreenwriting · 4 years

Text

12 Days of Christmas - [Day 12]

A/N: Day number 12 for the Christmas coundown with @mattysheelies. It’s finally up. Sorry it took so long. I’ve finally uploaded all my entires. Masterpost to follow soon if you guys want one.

Prompt: Fake dating., kinda

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Living on your own is hard. It’s rushing from one job to another trying to make just enough money to pay your rent and also put food on the table. It’s being stuck in a perpetual state of weariness. And yet it’s — liberating.

Billy drags himself up the steps to his apartment, the effort and exhaustion of today’s work settling deep in his bones. For a moment he wonders what life would be like had he stayed in Hawkins. Had he done as his dad wanted and followed in his footsteps working as a security guard. A “manly” job as Neil had described it then. A job worthy of a Hargrove man.

He wonders if he’d be married by now, to a woman with no backbone. If he’d treat her the way Neil treats Susan — the way he treated his mom.

He wonders and wonders but he will never know for certain because he didn’t stay. He got away. Packed his shit and bolted the moment they placed that diploma in his hands. Everything that’s left of Billy Hargrove in Hawkins, is the memories of those who knew him and a head full of What-ifs.

That is not a future he will ever know and he is grateful for that. But even so, the California from his childhood, all golden glow and soft touches, is not the one he’s come back to. This California is void of childhood nostalgia and dripping with the unpleasant truth of the real life — a tiny apartment with leaking pipes and the fact that he has to work two jobs to pay the rent for said apartment on time.

Everything’s better than Hawkins though. Everything is better than whatever future he would’ve lived through there.

He walks past the doors of apartments 1B, 2B and 3B. All of them painted the same shade of firetruck red. Paint chipping off of each door just the same. There’s a small Christmas wreath dangling from 2B’s door and a set of multicolored lights taped up around 3B’s windows, reminding him that the holidays are fast approaching.

It’s not a time he’s particularly fond of, never was really, not since he was very little. There’s only so much holiday cheer one can muster up when your parents are always fighting, often getting physical. Then mom left and before Susan came around they didn’t celebrate Christmas at all anymore. Sometimes Billy wonders if the holidays made Neil extra bitter. If it served as a reminder of what should be and what he fucked up — a happy family celebrating together.

Then Susan and Max moved in and so did Christmas. Only it never felt like Billy was a real part of it. Always on the outside looking in, pushed to the sidelines. Maybe had they showed up earlier things could’ve been different. But by then he was so bitter already, filled with so much fury, it didn’t make a difference anymore.

He passes by 3B, music sounding softly from inside. Even though they are neighbours, Billy only knows the inhabitant of said apartment by the number of their place. It’s an older guy who sometimes gets visits from his grandparents and has a mean little anklebiter for a dog. That’s all he knows. In fact, he doesn’t know a whole lot about any of his neighbours. Back in Hawkins, everyone knew everyone’s business. Whether it was important or not, scandalous or not. People cared and people talked.

Not here. It’s live and let live. It’s fight your own fights, battle your own demons. Nothing more than a “hello” in passing shared between neighbours.

Well all except one. 5B isn’t 5B anymore. 5B is (Y/N) and (Y/N) is — different. She doesn’t give a shit about the anonymity the others seem to be so fond of. (Y/N) is all soft smiles and cheery “hellos” and invitations to movie nights and microwave popcorn.

(Y/N) is his age, barely 19. She’s a mom too. Billy’s never particularly cared for babies, but even he can admit that Rosie is an adorable little girl. She’s got big bright eyes always taking in everything around her with a sense of wonder than only kids possess. And she always seems happy to see him, always smiling with her one single tooth. Even though he’s never held her or played with her or anything, she seems to like him anyway. And Billy appreciates that even if it comes from a 1 year old.

He’s just about to put the key into his lock, when the door next to him, the door to 5B, swings open.

(Y/N) looks stressed, exhausted. She always does. Billy thinks it probably comes with being a young single mom who works a full time job. Her hair’s a mess, all over the place, a sweater is hanging loosely off of her shoulder and her eyes look tired. So deeply tired. And yet, when she looks up at him there’s a spark there. She always has a certain warmth about her when she talks to Billy. He thinks it’s one of those special qualities that most mothers seem to possess.

“ Hey you. “ she exclaims with a smile. Rosie who’s propped up on her hip starts to wiggle, flopping her arms up and down in her excitement as she catches sight of Billy.

“ Hey yourself. “ Billy replies “ and hello to you miss Rosie. “ He takes her tiny hand in his. It’s so small he’s almost afraid of breaking it. There’s a trust she puts in him, at her 1 year of age, that makes him feel warm inside. If this tiny innocent girl thinks he’s good guy, maybe he isn’t so bad after all.

“ Rough day ? “ (Y/N) asks, her eyes wandering up and down his frame. He wants to tell her that yes, he had a rough day. That work at the auto repair shop was more than slow and that the few surf students he had today were rich assholes who only wanted to learn it for the novelty of it and not for the actual sport itself. He doesn’t say that though, because really she has it way harder. He hears her leave her apartment every morning at 4:30 to drop Rosie off at a babysitter and start her work at the local diner. Then when she comes home she has to do all the chores at home and care for her child. She’s a real trouper. Compared to her life, his does not seem so hard at all.

So he shrugs, curls bouncing with the motion “ It was alright. Where are you girls off to ? “

“ Well, “ she smiles that little smile she does when she’s particularly proud of something. It’s kinda ridiculous, Billy thinks, that he’s so smitten over her he can already differentiate between the different smiles she puts on.

“ Diner had a pretty big turnup today and I got a pretty big tip. So because miss Rosie here was being extra good today I promised her we’d get some ice cream and go to the beach. “

Rosie smiles her big baby smile, a little dribble going down her chin. She’s a real sunshine. He hardly ever hears her cry and when she does, he hears (Y/N) sing to her through the paper thin walls connecting his apartment to hers. And only a moment later the cries turn to whimpers then sighs then vanish all together. But she continues singing. And sometimes that’s the melody guiding him into a good night’s sleep.

“ I’d ask you if you want to join us but you look like all you want right now is some sleep ? “ (Y/N) says, raising her eyebrow in question.

Really, until a few minutes ago that was all he wanted. To go to bed and forget about today and hope that tomorrow will be better. Though now things have shifted. He knows he shouldn’t be getting into this. He knows getting attached is wrong. She has her own mess to deal with and adding an emotionally scarred guy with daddy and mommy issues into the mix is probably the last thing she needs. It’s not like he’s asking anything more of her than a friendship though. This is just two neighbours hanging out. Having ice cream. Taking a stroll on the beach.

That’s all it is. Even if she makes his heart do weird fluttery things in his chest. Even if she’s all he dreams about when he falls asleep to her singing. Even if he wonders what her lips taste like.

It’s just friends.

“ You know what ? That sounds real good. “

And then she smiles again and he wonders if this is what every friendship feels like.

The setting sun casts the beach in hues of golds and pinks and reds. (Y/N) and Billy sit side by side in the still warm sand. Rosie, ice cream smeared around her lips, leans her head against her mother’s shoulder, eyes closed from the long day she’s had.

“ She out ? “ Billy asks, letting his eyes linger on the sight of (Y/N) and Rosie cuddling as the setting sun illuminated them in a golden glow.

“ Like a light. “ she replies then lets her words being followed by a deep sigh. One that’s heavy with meaning. It seems that now that her daughter is asleep, she really lets herself feel the exhaustion of the day that’s been weighing on her shoulders until now.

“ You alright ? “ Billy asks. Growing up, Billy was always alone with his feelings. Whatever he was going through, he was going through it all by himself. When he left Hawkins, he made a promise to himself. To be better. To do better. And part of that, is showing people he cares about that he cares. That he’s there. Even if he can’t do anything other than listen.

“ I uh — not not really. I don’t wanna annoy you with my stupid problems though. You got enough on your plate as it is. “

“ Ah, lay it on me. I’m big boy I can take it. “

“ Are you now ? “

“ Mmmhh. And I’m sure your problems aren’t stupid. “

(Y/N) lets out another sigh, shifts little Rosie closer to her chest and places a kiss on her head. Billy can almost see the thoughts running through her head, trying to assemble themselves in a way that makes sense.

“ So usually at Christmas I go and see my mom but this year she has decided to come visit us. “

“ You and your mom don’t have a good relationship ? “ Billy wonders, knowing he’s not seen anyone that could potentially be (Y/N) mother come or go anytime since he’s moved into his apartment.

“ I mean, she’s my mom and I love her she’s just — a bit judgemental. I know it comes from a good place and that she just wants the best for me but the thought of her coming to my place and listing all the things that I’m doing wrong in her eyes is uh — it’s a lot. “

It’s baffling to him that anyone, especially her own mother, could find anything wrong with the way (Y/N) navigates her life. To Billy she’s a damn superhero.

“ What could she possibly have to judge ? You have a stable job, your own place. You raise your kid by yourself and you seem to be doing pretty good at that. What’s there for her not to like ? “

(Y/N) raises an eyebrow at him, as if it’s obvious. “ I’m a single mother at 19. That’s a start there. “

“ But you’re a good mother. “

She shrugs “ I hope I am but it doesn’t matter to my mom. It matters that Rosie was born out of wedlock. It marries that I dumped her dad after he cheated on me. It matters that I am alone and apparently Rosie doesn’t have a strong male parental figure to look up to which, according to my dear mother, will hinder her future development and makes her develop unhealthy relationships with men. “

“ Jesus. “

“ Yup. That’s my mom for you. I think she kind of resents the fact that I dumped Adam. Think she would’ve wanted me to forgive him everything he did to me and stay with him for the sake of a seemingly unbroken family. “

Billy wonders often, if such a thing even exists. A family that’s not broken, one without skeletons, one that smiles and laughs and loves even when nobody's watching. And if it does, he wonders if it’s the people bound together by blood or if the most happy families are those thrown together by circumstance. Those that find each other in the dark.

“ I mean, if she needs a strong male role model you can always knock on my door. I am pretty strong if I dare say so. “ Billy jokes and raises an arm to flex is muscles in mock bragging.

“ I’ll keep it in mind, though I don’t think that’s something my mom wants to hear. You’re not my boyfriend so It doesn’t count in her books. “

His heart drops at that thought. And then, just a second later, an idea sparks. Like a firework on the fourth of july it starts with the sizzle of a fuse and then explodes with all the possibilities. It’s a bad idea. He has to remind himself of that. It’s a horrible idea. One that’s only gonna end up in a mess.

Don’t say it.

Don’t —

“ What if I was ? “

“ Huh ? “

“ What if I was your boyfriend. Just for — just for show. Maybe your mom would go a bit easier on you. We could pretend for the time she’s here. “

The minutes when she doesn’t reply, just looks at him and considers, seem to drag on like hours and hours and years and decades. And with every second Billy’s hands grow more clammy, his heart more weary, his breath more shallow.

“ You’d do that ? “

He lets out breathy laugh. If only she knew what he’d do for them both. “ Sure. “

She places a soft kiss on his cheek. He knows how her lips feel now. He wants so badly to know how they taste. But it’s not a good idea. It’s not a good time. It’s — fake, Billy. He has to remind himself that what they are doing is just playing pretend and once Christmas is over and her mom is gone, all they will be is friends. And that’s enough. It needs to be. Having a friend in her and in Rosie, that’s not only enough, that’s plenty. That’s grand.

“ Okay, let’s do it ! We should make a plan though. “

“ A plan ? “

“ Yeah like, where we met. How long we’ve been together. You know that kinds stuff. Have our stories match. “

“ Alright, when do you wanna do this ? “

“ You up for a movie night? “

“ Tonight ? “

“ Yup. I even have some cold beers in the fridge and microwave popcorn in my cupboard.“

“ Well if there’s beer and popcorn — “

“ Great, let's go ! “

It’s not the booze and the snacks that draw him in though. It’s her smile. Her enthusiasm. Her.

It’s Christmas day, the lights are twinkling in the window, the tree is set up, there’s a turkey in the oven and (Y/N), well she’s a full on mess.

Billy is sitting by the dining table, Rosie next to him in her high seat munching away on some spongy baby cookies. Big bright eyes trained on her mother who nervously paces around the living room.

“ Let’s go through it one last time. We met when you moved in and I asked you to take a look at my broken AC unit. “

“ Mmh. “

“ Then we hung out whenever something was broken and you fixed it for me. Makes you seem reliable and handy. “

“ I am reliable and uh — pretty good with my hands. “ Billy says and smirks.

(Y/N) raises her brow.

“ I am ! I work as a mechanic you know. “

“ Not what the look was about but sure. So we’ve been properly dating for 4 months now. Rosie loves you, which isn’t even a lie. “

Billy’s heart soars at that. Rosie really does seem to adore him. Always smiling and demanding for him to hold her. Billy’s spent quite some time at their place lately, puzzling together a life for him and (Y/N) that would satisfy her mother’s expectation. A life hat makes him wish it could ever become reality.

“ So we decided Christmas was a good time for her to meet you. “

“ Yup. “

“ Jesus Christ, I’m gonna faint. “ (Y/N) groans, fingers nervously combing through her hair. Billy gets up, places a kiss on Rosies head then walks over towards (Y/N).

Gently he takes her by her shoulders and turns her to face him. There’s a fear in her eyes he’s never seen before. A vulnerability almost palpable in the air. She’s exuding anxiety and he knows what it feels like. It’s the constant state he was living in when still in Hawkins. He wishes so badly that he could take it from her. Load it onto himself and rid her of it all. Thought life is no magical fairytale.

“ (Y/N) calm down. We got this, okay ? “

She regards him for a second, eyes drowning in his, as if she’s looking straight into his soul, his heart.

“ You think ? “

“ I know! Do you trust me ? “

Without hesitation she nods, sending his heart into overdrive.

“ Good ! Now uh — there’s something else we should figure out. “

“ What’s that ? “

“ Do we hold hands ? Do we — kiss ? “

“ I guess uh — I guess we should, right ? To make is seem real ? “

“ If it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. “

“ Oh no. No we’re friends, right ? “

“ Right. “

“ So it shouldn’t be awkward, right ? “

Wrong. It’s very awkward. Not because he doesn’t wanna kiss her. Exactly the opposite actually.

“ Right. Do you wanna try it right now? Get the first one over with so we don’t look awkward in front of your mom ?”

“ That sounds like a good idea. “

It’s not and Billy is well aware of this. Once he finds out what her lips taste like, the ones he wanted to kiss since he first laid eyes on her, he won't be able to forget it.

But Billy’s never been known for making smart decisions. So he softly pulls her closer by her waist, gently cradles her face in one of his hands and nuzzles his nose against hers.

There’s absolutely nothing awkward about this, in fact, he’s never felt like this ever before. His heart is beating faster, faster, faster. He wants her to take the last step. Give her the power over this. Even if it’s just pretending. Even if it’s just for today. She needs to be in charge of it. This is all for her. Even if it breaks his heart to think about this ending.

It’s hesitant at first, he almost doesn’t feel it until she pushed on a little harder. Her lips are soft and smooth and warm. She tastes like — well (Y/N). There’s no fireworks or butterflies but the true and honest realisation that he is in love with this girl. And that’s the goddamn mess he wanted to avoid.

She kisses him once, twice, three times. To make it realistic, right ? To make it believable. Billy gets absolutely lost in it, in her lips on his, in her hands in his hair — in her.

That’s until the doorbell rings.

Her mom seems nice enough, reserved sure, but that was expected. She talks a lot, mostly small talk. About Christmas and the weather and how nice California is. She asks about Billy’s family, talks about hers. She tells him stuff about family members (Y/N) has never even mentioned before and yet her mother deems it appropriate to air their dirty laundry to Billy.

She starts a conversation about Rosie, which is the one topic Billy feels confident talking about. Though she’s not his, he’s proud of her. She’s one of the few good things he has in his life right now and talking about her, being granted this little piece of happiness and feeling like he is involved there, part of something, it means more than he will ever be able to express.

Rosie is a real gem as well. Constantly asking to be held, not by her mother or grandmother but by Billy. It’s as if she knows they’re trying to sell something here. Trying to create a vision of something, the image of a happy little family or 3.

The idea of something Billy never had but so desperately wants. The one thing that always has been missing.

“ Uh, she adores him. Wants to be in his arms all the time.“ (Y/N) tells her mother as she hands her a glass of wine. Rosie is cuddled into Billy’s arms as if she always belonged right there.

“ I can see that, those two are two peas in a pot huh ? “

“ Totally. Makes me a bit jealous sometimes, those two “ (Y/N) jokes, a smile gracing her lips. A real one. A radiant one.

“ Is that so ? “ Billy asks. It feels like every boundary they set, every rule they put in place, is suddenly made of watercolor, spreading and smudging and bleeding into one another. The lines are slowly but surely starting to blur in his mind and he needs to remind himself that this is just pretend. They’re friends. This is fake. This is fake.

“ Sure is, babe “ she winks then returns to the kitchen to get the turkey out of the oven.

It’s fake, right ?!

The small talk ceases as they enjoy the food. God, not only is she perfect in itself, she’s also an amazing cook. If it is possible, Billy falls even more in love with her. If only this didn’t have to end.

“ So Billy, you and my daughter, huh. Let me tell you when she told me about you I wasn’t sure what to think. “ (Y/N)’s mother starts talking again once the dinner is devoured. She moves her finger along the rim of her wineglass like some cheesy villain from an action flick or a disney movie.

“ Okay. “ what does one say to something like that.

“ Mom. “

“ No, no let me finish. “

“ Mom, please. “ The anxiety is back in (Y/N)’s voice and in her eyes. Without thinking about it, Billy grabs her hand underneath the table. To his surprise, she squeezes back, doesn’t pull away. Maybe friends can do things like this without pretending. Maybe just for shared comfort.

“ I’m not gonna say anything bad, (Y/N). Don’t be silly. I think you two are — good for each other. Good for Rosie. “

“ You are ? “

“ Yes. Yes I really am. “

She squeezes his hand again. He hopes this one’s a good one, from excitement not anxiety.

“ I just wish you would trust me more. I wish you’d let me into your life. Tell me stuff. Not just when you two met but that romantic stuff that daughters talk to their moms about. Like when you knew you were in love with Billy. All that kind of stuff. “

“ I knew I was in love with her the first time I heard her sing. “

The word burst out of him like vomit. Like a tidal wave crashing against the shore with wrath and fury. It’s not a lie, in fact, it’s a truth he’s been holding onto for a while now. This might be more of a confession to himself than to anyone else.

(Y/N) looks at him with shock and surprise written all over her face. There’s a tiny smile pulling at the corner of her lips though it’s hardly noticeable and the confusion in her eyes makes Billy wonder if what he just said was the wrong thing.

“ I’ve never sang to you, babe. “

“ Not to me but to Rosie. I hear you singing to her through the walls. They’re paperthin. I fall asleep to you singing sometimes. “

Her eyes. God, her eyes. Everything good in the world is caught in her eyes. In the depth of them. The warmth of them. In the way they look at him as if she sees him. Completely. For all that he is and all that he ever wants to be.

She’s very good at pretending, he has to admit. It only makes it harder for him to remind himself that none of this is real. It’s all a game of pretend. It’s all fake.

“ You hear me sing to Rosie ? And you like it ? “

“ I love it. “

She kisses him then and it both mends and breaks his heart simultaneously.

“ Well I fell in love with Billy the moment he first held Rosie. “ (Y/N) tells this to her mother though her eyes never leave his.

Billy remember the first time he held Rosie, it wasn’t all that long ago. After they had decided on their little game of pretend. (Y/N) had asked him to keep an eye on her while she went to have a shower. So for a while Billy and Rosie just sat on the couch watching some weird kid tv show. That’s until Rosie decided to crawl up on his lap, then pull herself up to wrap her little arms around his neck.

He was hesitant then, to react, to do anything. Afraid of doing the wrong thing. She’s so small, so fragile. If anything happened to her — if he did one wrong move.

But as she started wobbling he couldn’t but hold onto her. Stop her from falling. Keep her steady. The way she rested in his arms then felt more right than anything in his life had ever felt. She looked up at him with her gorgeous eyes then, and she smiles her one-tooth smile. And it opened his heart in ways he had never known before.

“ You talked to her. You looked at her like she was the world and you told her stuff. Talked to her like you would to someone who understands what you’re talking about. She was hanging onto your every word. I knew I loved you then because you loved her. “

It hits him like a lightning flash straight to the heart. What he told Rosie then, was that he’d never held a baby before. That she was the first baby he ever cuddled. That Max had already been a child when they met the first time. He told her about Max and how sorry he was and that he missed her even though he’d never admit that to anyone else. But he knew then that Rosie wouldn’t judge because she didn’t understand. It felt good talking to someone about it even if that someone was a 1 year old.

“ I do “ Billy replies “ love her, I mean. “

“ I know. I think she knows too. “

He hopes she does. Wherever life takes them, he wants Rosie to know that for as long as they get together, he loved her and he loved her mom.

Later that night, Rosie asleep in her bed and (Y/N)’s mother on her way home, Billy and (Y/N) settle down on her couch.

A silence engulf them that is thick with words unspoken yet it’s not uncomfortable, not really. They both know, right then. They know that whatever game they had been playing wasn’t really a game at all. Maybe all of the pretending wasn’t for (Y/N)’s mother at all. Maybe the pretending was for themselves. Pretending like this was all fake. Like it meant nothing. Like they could ever go back to being friends.

Billy’s head rests on (Y/N) legs as she softly combs her fingers through his golden curls.

“ That went well huh ? “

“ I’d say so. “

Silence again. Then the clearing of a throat. A sigh.

“ Billy I — “

“ I meant it. “

“ Huh ? “

Billy closes his eyes, not able to look at her as the words assemble themselves on his tongue ready to be spoke. Too long have they been locked in his heart. It’s time he says them with all the truth and none of the pretending.

“ That I fell in love with you when I heard you sing. That I am in love with you. That I love Rosie. “

She stops her hand for a second. He can feel her breathing in deeply. Evaluating. Thinking. Wondering.

“ If you don’t feel the same that’s fine. I’m a big boy, we can be just friends and I’ll be fine with that. “

The she resumes the combing of her fingers through his hair. Gentle strokes, slight tugs. It feels wonderful. Heavenly.

“ I meant it too, you know. Every single word. “

Billy leans his head back to look up at her. They smile, both of them. He thinks this is his favorite of her smiles. The one she puts on when she’s in love. In love with him — holy shit.

Rosie’s small cries shake them out of their romantic bliss before (Y/N) gets up and hurries towards her room. A few moments she returns, the little girl cuddled tightly into her arms.

“ Look who wanted to join us. “

As Rosie lifts her head and catches sight of Billy she tiredly stretches her little arms out to him. Billy takes her from (Y/N), cuddling her into his chest while placing kisses on her head.

“ Hey little one. You wanted to hang out with mommy and me, huh ? Wanted to get some love too ? “

(Y/N) settles back down in her seat on the couch, hand going back to Billy’s head as Rosie rest softly on his chest. And as (Y/N) stars to quietly sing a song he’s heart through the wall so many times before, Billy thinks that maybe happy families can exist. This one right here, has never been happier. It’s small and puzzled together and they all come with messes that have to be dealt with and obstacles that have to be overcome. But it’s good. It’s so good.

And it’s his.

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