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thetravelerwrites · 2 years

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Akuji (Part 2)

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Non-Binary Human/Non-Binary Lizardfolk Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, NonBinary, Enby, Lizardfolk Content Warnings: Sex, Relationship Insecurity, Talks of Marriage Words: 2881

After attending a friend's wedding, the reader begins to feel insecure in their relationship with Akuji. Please leave feedback!

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“Hey, babe, look at this!” Akuji said one day after coming back inside after checking the mail. “Duffy and Jordan are getting married!”

“No way!” You said, getting up off the couch and taking the invitation that Akuji held out to you. “I didn’t even know Duffy popped the question! Good for them!”

“It’s several months away,” Akuji said, pointing at the date. “And it’s norse-themed. I wonder what that means.”

You laughed. “We’ll have to do some googling, I guess. I bet it’ll be amazing, though. Have you ever been to a human wedding?”

Akuji shook their head. “I’ve never been invited to one before.”

“Don’t feel bad, I’ve been to maybe one my whole life, and that was only because it was my sister’s and I was a member of the wedding party.”

“Oh yeah?” They asked. “As what?”

“Her person of honor,” You said. “I actually came out as nonbinary to her just before the wedding so that she wouldn’t give me a gendered position. I was worried that she wouldn’t accept it or that she’d be angry at me for choosing to tell her right before her big day, but she was surprisingly cool about it.”

“That’s good,” They said, wrapping you in their arms. “I bet you look cute in formal attire.”

You snorted. “Don’t be so sure about that. The pictures are less than flattering.”

“Ooooh, there are pictures?!” They said excitedly. “Are they on the computer? I’mma go check!”

“No, Akuji, don’t!” You said, chasing him down the hall. “I swear to god, if you print them out and hang them in the bathroom like you did with my graduation pictures, I will never speak to you again!”

They cackled and dashed out of your reach.

Duffy’s wedding was beautiful. You first met Duffy as the host of your favorite restaurant, and he had become a friend to you and Akuji over the years. Since it was a norse-themed wedding, you wore a hand-woven linen tunic and tabard with Duffy’s traditional family’s seal embroidered on it that had been provided for Duffy’s closest friends. Akuji wore something similar and filled it out a lot better than you, you thought. They looked amazing. Despite the unusual theme, it was a lot of fun, especially the traditional feast during the reception and the group folk dances.

Watching Duffy and his partner exchange vows gave you a strange feeling, though; a deep uneasiness that took root in your mind and wouldn’t let up. You and Akuji had been dating for about six years, and they’d never once brought up the subject of marriage. Neither had you, since you hadn’t really given it any serious thought before now, but… it did make you wonder if they were really as serious about their relationship with you as you were.

You knew they loved you and that they weren’t planning on leaving you, but it just felt a little like… they wanted to keep the option to leave open, and it made you feel… a little insecure.

“You’ve been a little quiet since the wedding,” Akuji said after the two of you got home. “Everything alright? You didn’t drink too much, did you?”

“No, I’m fine,” You said, deflecting. “I guess I’m a little tired.”

“Yeah, it was a long day,” They said. “It was fun, but it was a lot. I think I’m going to take a shower.”

You came up behind him and put your arms around their waist, your fingers sliding downward toward their crotch. “Can I join you?”

They smirked. “I thought you were tired.”

You cuddled them in. “I am, but I still want to.”

“Alright,” They said, turning around and starting to undress you slowly.

To be honest, you were initiating sex because you wanted to take your mind off of your new concern, and you wanted to feel as close to Akuji as possible, both physically and emotionally. Being intimate was as close as you could get.

The two of you walked into the bathroom, and they turned on the shower. They tended to like it very hot, since they were cold-blooded, but they made sure to modify the temperature for your sake, which was sweet. They was always thinking of you and being considerate of your needs, so you knew they cared about you very much, but you still felt… anxious.

You knelt down in front of them and took their length in your hands, stroking and fondling it a little until it was rock hard, and sucked it into your mouth forcefully. You reached underneath and gripped their balls firmly, rolling them in the palm of your hand. They groaned sharply and their legs shuddered. Their three-fingered hands sifted through your short hair and then gripped it tight, thrusting into your mouth as you sucked.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” They wheezed, and they gushed down your throat as they jerked and pulsed. “You’re so good at that. Come here and let me return the favor.”

You wiped your mouth and shook your head. “You don’t have to today. I’m good.”

They frowned and tilted their head. “Are you sure?”

You stood back up and nodded, putting your arms around their neck. “I’m sure. I’m really tired. I’ll be plenty happy with a kiss.”

“Okay,” They said uncertainly, kissing your lips. “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” You replied, and kissed them deeply.

After the shower, the two of you watched some TV together to wind down and then eventually went to bed, where they began to initiate intimacy a second time. Perhaps they felt a little guilty that they had gotten theirs but you hadn’t. They were very much a reciprocal person and didn’t like the idea of their partner being left unsatisfied. Turning them down would stir up their unease again, and you didn’t want that. Besides, they were very good at it.

The next few weeks went by as normal, except that the worry about marriage kept eating at the back of your mind, but you tried not to act weird about it. You’d known several relationships that had fallen apart the second marriage was even mentioned, and you didn’t want that to happen between you and Akuji. They were the best partner you’d ever had and the idea of losing them over something that you weren’t even sure you wanted was the worst thing you could imagine.

Two weeks after the wedding, Duffy and his partner had returned from their honeymoon, and had invited you and Akuji and a few other close friends to a dinner party to show you the pictures they had taken of their honeymoon destination. You brought several bottles of moscato to drink with dessert as a gift.

“How was the honeymoon?” You asked over duck a l'orange.

“Amazing,” Jordan said. “I didn’t realize how beautiful Norway was. The mountains there outside of the cabin we were renting are like nothing I’ve ever seen before, it was like being in a fairy tale.”

“That does really sound incredible,” You said. “I’ll definitely have to add it to my bucket list of places to visit.”

“Definitely do,” Jordan said. “I was skeptical when Duffy brought it up for our honeymoon, but I’ll never doubt him again.”

Akuji poured himself a refill of the dry sauvignon blanc you were all drinking with dinner, emptying the bottle into their glass. “Oh, we need a new bottle.”

“I’ll get it,” You said instantly, standing up. “Do you want anything else while I’m up?”

“No, I’m alright, babe, thanks,” They said. Duffy narrowed his eyes at you, as if trying to figure something out.

After a few hours, when dinner and dessert had been consumed and the group of you had gone out on the back patio to enjoy the nice autumn weather around the firepit, you went back into the house momentarily to bring Akuji a glass of water, and Duffy followed you inside.

“Are you guys fighting or something?” He asked you privately.

“No,” You replied, confused. “Why?”

“It just… seems like you feel like they’re mad at you or something,” He said. “You’re being more affectionate than normal and you keep, like, catering to them. They haven’t gotten up to do anything since the two of you got here. You’ve done everything they’ve asked like you’re they’re servant. It’s… a little weird.”

“Oh,” You said, frowning. “I didn’t realize.”

“Are they mad at you?” He asked.

“No, no, not at all,” You insisted. “It’s not anything they did, I think I’ve just been feeling insecure lately. I’m sure I’ll get over it.”

“If you say so,” He said dubiously. “But if you’re feeling bad enough about it that it’s changing your behavior to this extent, you should talk to them about it sooner rather than later. Because if I’ve noticed, I can guarantee they’ve noticed, too.”

Your frown deepened, but you nodded.

Though you had told Duffy you’d talk to Akuji about it, you couldn’t bring yourself to broach the subject, dreading the conversation. You were still terribly anxious about it and it had made you become clingy and overly-accommodating, and you knew it, but you couldn’t stop. It was only a matter of time before they spoke up about it, and you were worried about what you’d say when they did.

You didn’t have to wait long. One evening, they sat you down and said they wanted to talk to you.

“About what?” You asked anxiously. You knew it was likely about your recent weird behavior, but Akuji wasn’t a “we need to talk” type of person. They typically addressed any problems in the moment as soon as they recognized it, and didn’t need to have a sit-down conversation to work it out. This was the first time he’d done this and it made things all the more nerve-wracking.

“You’ve been… kind of weird these last few weeks,” They said. “I can’t put my finger on it, and maybe I’m over-analyzing things, but you’ve been… weirdly… giving , is really the only way I can describe it. As though I’m angry at you and you’re trying to make up for something. Is there something I need to know? Did you do something you’re scared to tell me about?”

“No, no!” You insisted. “I haven’t done anything, I swear!”

“So what’s wrong?” They asked. “Why are you acting like I’m upset with you all of a sudden? It feels like you’re doing everything you can to keep me from leaving, but babe, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know that,” You said, dispiritedly. “I didn’t mean to act so weird. I didn’t realize I was doing it until Duffy pointed it out at dinner the other day.”

“Well, tell me what’s going on, babe,” They persisted. “Did I do something?”

“No, of course not, babe, you’re always amazing,” You said, then sighed heavily. “I guess it started at the wedding.”

“What happened at the wedding? Did I do something that upset you, or did someone say something that bothered you?”

“No, I just thought…” You shrugged self-consciously. “You and I have been together for a long time now, over six years, and you’ve… we’ve… never discussed… taking the next step, so to speak.”

“Next step?” They asked, confused.

“Marriage, I mean,” You said, hunching.

“...oh,” They said simply, a stunned expression on their face. “...is that something you want?”

“No. I don’t know. I just…” You took a moment to sort through your thoughts. “I just feel like… most people, when they find someone they love and want to spend their life with, it’s natural to think about marriage, and… I suppose I was worried that you never brought it up because you didn’t see yourself spending your life with me.”

“Babe, that’s not–” They began, but you stopped them.

“I know you love me, babe, that’s not what I’m worried about,” You assured them, and they quieted, allowing you to continue. “It’s not that I think you’re in a relationship with me because you have nothing else to do. But… I guess sometimes I worry that… you’ll only be with me until something better comes along.”

They looked at you sharply. “Babe.”

“I know, I know,” You said, scrubbing your face. “I know that’s not rational, but I can’t help it. I can’t help but feel that even though I’m in this for the long haul… maybe you don’t feel the same, and that’s why you’ve never even thought of tying the knot. Maybe you don’t want to marry me because you want to be sure that if you want out, there’s a way out.”

“That’s not it at all,” They said. “I do absolutely want to spend the rest of my life with you, of course I do. I love you more than anything in the whole world. Me not wanting to get married has nothing to do with wanting a way out. I just don’t understand why you and I loving each other requires a legally binding document to be considered valid.”

“I mean… I get that, but there are ways of marrying each other that don’t require a marriage license.”

“But why is that necessary? Why do we need to have a formal ceremony to promise each other we’ll be together forever? Why do we need to dress up and make a spectacle out of it for other people? Why do we need to go into debt to take a single day and make a grand event just to tell each other what we already know?”

“It’s more than that, Akuji, you know that,” You said. “You were at Duffy’s wedding, you saw that everyone was happy. Did Duffy look as though he regretted it?”

“That’s not the point,” They argued. “Some people see the stability of marriage as a good thing, and if a person wants to have kids, then getting married makes sense, but I’ve always thought of marriage like a shackle. You may be able to walk around and live your life as you please if you’re wearing one, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not still wearing a shackle. You can’t put a person in a cage and dangle the key over them and say, ‘you’ll get this back if you love me for however long I decide’ and expect them to be cool with that.”

“Do you see being in a relationship as a shackle?”

“Of course not, but being in a committed relationship and being married are completely separate things,” They said.

“How?”

“Because one gives you the freedom and choice to love the other person without limitations or restraint, and the other legally obligates you to love the other person, and if you happen to fall out of love and decide to split, then you get punished financially. What sense does that make?”

“But it doesn’t have to be like that, that’s what I’m trying to tell you!”

Akuji sighed, exasperated. “Look, babe, if you really want to get married–”

“It’s not that I want to get married, Akuji, I just want to feel like you won’t just decide that you’re better off without me and leave one day!”

“What can I do to make you feel like that?”

“I don’t know!” You cried, feeling tears pricking your eyes. “I don’t even know why this is so important to me!”

“Babe, come here,” They said, pulling you toward them and holding you against them, putting your head on their chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were feeling like this.”

“I don’t even know why I’m feeling like this, like, at all,,” You sobbed. “It just got into my head that you won’t be with me forever and I can’t get it out.”

“Hold on a second,” They said, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

Perplexed, you watched them disappear to your shared room and return a moment later.

“Do you know what this is?” They asked, handing you a pendant.

You nodded. It was a pendant Akuji’s father had given their mother when he learned she was going to lay their first clutch. The two of them had also never married, and the pendant was a promise between the two that they would always be there for each other, no matter what. It was a promise they honored until they died.

“Take this,” They said, putting the pendant on you. “I want you to hold on to it for me.”

“Akuji, I can’t take this,” You said, choking back more tears.

“Yes, you can,” They said, touching it gently where it lay on your chest. “I’m lending it to you, I just happen to be lending it to you for the rest of our lives. Just because I don’t want to get married doesn’t mean I’m not committed to you, or devoted to our relationship. I love you and I’m not just going to leave you.” They picked up the pendant and showed it to you. “I promise. You believe me, don’t you?”

You cried even harder and nodded. They pulled you into their lap and hugged you.

“Are we good, babe?” They asked.

“More than good,” You managed to say. “So much more than good. I love you.”

“I love you more. Forever.”

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The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Interspecies Romance #Lizardfolk #Nonbinary

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i-cant-sing · 3 years

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Yandere RE8: TRP Part 4

Part 1 is here.

Part 2 is here.

Part 3 is here.

Part 5 is here.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

"Uhh... hello?"

You looked at the woman standing in the stairs. She was wearing a dark veil that matched the rest of her outfit- oh shit, that's a funeral outfit.

I really did pick a bad time to come here, didn't I? She's in mourning, she sees an intruder, and her day went from bad to worst. Yep, she's gonna kill me.

You took one look at the woman and then at all the possible exits: the doors- no, they'd be too heavy to move and what if they're locked? The window- but I'd have to jump out and just because it looks cool in movies to jump through glass, doesn't mean it'll work, Y/n.

So, the only option was to eliminate the threat. Or maybe... defuse it.

"This is your doll, right?" You asked, pointing at the doll, judging by the lace designs on both of their dresses. The woman didn't reply. "It looks like its been... used a lot. To be honest, she's very different than most dolls I've seen, definitely a lot more spookier." You nervously giggled, hoping she didn't mind. "But... she looks like she's been loved. A lot. Despite being broken from a lot of places, someone still took their time to fix her." You smiled sadly, remembering your own doll that Mia had ripped. "Wish I had someone like that. To sew up the wounds and fix them."You mumbled, not really sure if you were talking about your doll or yourself.

"Your doll, she's- she's very pretty. My sister would've liked her." You began. "Which is why I'm here. My family, we were in an accident- I know it was wrong of me to come here without permission, but I need to find my sister, Rose and my father, Ethan." You took a step closer. "They both of have blonde hair. Rose, my sister, she's just 6 months old. She was dressed in a baby pink onesie, bundled up in a blanket. My father, Ethan, he's about this tall and has big blue eyes. I think he was wearing a jacket, with blue denim jeans. H-have you seen them?" You asked, eyes full of hope and voice laced with eagerness.

Please, please let her have seen them. God, please.

Unsurprisingly, the woman didn't reply, but she did turn her head towards the left window. You didn't know whether she was telling you to get out of her house or signalling that they are out there, but you knew you had to leave.

Nodding, you slowly walked towards the window, your heart beating faster as you prayed that this wasn't some sort of trap, hoping she wouldn't attack you from behind because that would be like... really shitty.

But you left the house unharmed, and without looking back at the window because you didn't want to jinx it, you walked towards the forrest once again, thankful that the sun had finally came out.

Where are you guys?

You had been walking for a couple of hours now, the sun had been a bit warmer today, which was good since you hated the snow that surrounded you now. You looked at the map, tracing the path to your new destination. The Salvatore reservoir. It seemed like it would take you a day's journey to get there, and you sure as hell weren't seeing any lake in sight.

God, when will this nightmare end?

You decided to sit on a stone and take some much needed rest. Your feet ached from all the walking, and your calves were cramping. You rolled your head, popping it from the side, before taking off the rifle that had been weighing down, stretching out your arms. Digging through the little back pack you bought from Duke, you pulled out a thermos of coffee and twinkie. You don't know how or where he got it, but Duke had filled your bag with a couple of snacks; saying its for his loyal customer.

So, here you sat, in the middle of the snowy woods, eating a twinkie and drinking a lukewarm coffee. Both didn't taste good, but they're gonna keep you alive so, no complaining.

After drinking the coffee, you rested your head against a tree, recalling last nights events as you waited for the caffeine to kick in.

You tried to make sense of what happened when you got... locked in the basement. You thought you had forgotten about her, Angel. Guess not.

Wait- didn't that lady lock me in the basement? Maybe, she didn't look very hostile, her creepy doll looked scarier than she did.

You laughed at the irony. You always made fun of the horror movies where the family would become so attached to the most horrifying doll, and you'd scream at their stupidity, And yet here you were, falling for the cliche as you found comfort in that creepy doll.

Man, I'm really losing it here.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you tried to come up with the next plan. But the warm coffee had lulled you right to sleep, which was dangerous but you were too tired to care.

Just for a couple of minutes...

You woke up to the sound of growling and heavy steps. And as soon as you opened your eyes, you knew you had definitely slept for far longer than a few minutes. But that was not of concern at the moment. No, it was the source of the growling that had woken you up.

Just about 40 feet away from you were lycans. Plural. Not one, not two, but 5 lycans, and one of them was a really big one.

You held your breath as you watched them wander around; they hadn't spotted you yet, and if you stayed quiet, you hoped they would just go away.

Stilling yourself as much as you could, you watched them with wide eyes. One of them started to walk in your direction, it wasn't looking at you, which meant that it hadn't seen you, but he would if he kept on walking this way.

God, I know we haven't been on good terms, but like c'mon, you gotta give me a break. Please, I love you? Come on, you know this is not how I want to go.

You sent a silent prayer, and perhaps it worked, since the lycan suddenly turned the other way, joining its pack as they started walking deeper into the woods.

Slowly, you began to gather up your things, silently shoving them in your bag, one eye on the lycans and the other one making sure that you don't accidentally drop something that'd cause noise.

Fortunately, you didn't. You swung the bag over your shoulder, and took a step forward, careful not to step on any twigs.

Maybe God did love me. All that time in church-

THWACK!

You jumped back as a huge sheet of snow fell from the trees in front of you. You whipped your head towards the monsters and they all had stopped dead in their tracks. Slowly, one of them turned and if they hadn't heard the snow fall, they'd definitely heard the way your heart was about to burst out of your chest. Then, it growled.

Motherfucker.

You pulled out your gun just as the two of them began running your way. With a quick jump to the side, you dodged them and shot them two times each. Hearing your gun fire, the other two began running your way too, while the larger one stayed behind as it watched. This time, as you shot one of them, the other managed to kick you in the chest hard, throwing you against the rock. Luckily, you didn't hit your head, as you rolled and shot it dead.

Spitting out the blood, you looked back at the last lycan who had already started running your way. You began loading up your gun with trembling hands, but just as you aimed, the lycan took a giant leap and knocked the gun out of your hand.

Fuck.

The giant grabbed you by your neck, lifting you up high before throwing you across the ground. You wheezed, scrambling up to your feet as you began running away from it, its heavy steps following you. It roared angrily behind you, and that only made you ignore the burning pain in your chest as you ran faster.

But of course, God had decided to make you live a cliche horror movie, because you tripped over a fucking branch, making you fall on your stomach. You flipped over instantly, and saw your nightmare come true as the lycan jumped on you.

On pure reflex, you punched it square in the face, which you doubted hurt it more than it hurt you, if anything, the monster was momentarily perplexed, but that was enough for you to slip from under it.

But you were only able to take a few steps away when it suddenly grabbed you by your neck and lifted you up again, snarling as it began opening its mouth, revealing its razor-sharp teeth at you.

God, if you're hearing this, I'm converting to atheism because I did not need this today.

Looking at the horrifying lycan, you prayed one last time before you were eaten by it. Surprisingly, your life did not flash before your eyes, which you were kinda grateful for because you did not need to relive that before your death.

But that moment didn't came. No, what came were familiar moans of pain, and then the sound of a drill, followed by blood splattering on your face as the lycan was sliced vertically from the head to the toe by the aforementioned drill.

The lycan fell to the ground, revealing the pair of soldats that killed them and behind them a smirking Heisenberg, who rested against a tree, tipping his hat at you.

You were far too shocked to say anything, and after a few seconds, the man walked over to you, blocking the view of his monstrous creations just mutilating the lycans.

"So... that was a bit traumatising." He started, chuckling at your stunned face. "You okay, kid?"

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck-

"Yeah." You took his hand, and he helped you up. You groaned at the pain, touching the tender side around the chest where the lycan had hit you. Yeah, you probably broke a rib.

Heisenberg helped you sit down on a tree stump. "Hmm, that bastard kicked you hard didn't it." Wait- "But that was a phenomenal punch you threw at it. Nearly made me burst out laughing."

"You were watching? Why the fuck didn't you come in before!"

He shrugged. "I just wanted to see if you could really handle yourself- which you were pretty good at, but then you lost your gun and it was kinda an unfair match from there on." He pulled out some pills from his coat. "i was just passing by when I saw those lycans moving away. Thats when I pushed the tree which made snow sheet fall and you know the rest from there on."

Your eyes went wide. "You did that on purpose? What the shit, Heisenberg-?! Fuck." You doubled over in pain, clutching your ribs, heaving.

"Shh, stay still, kid. Here, take these. They'll help with the pain." You eyed the bottle before popping two in your mouth. Hey, if he wanted me dead, he wouldn't have saved me from the lycan. "I just wanted to see if you were worth the trouble, and as it turns out, you are."

"You didn't have to almost kill me to see that. And now I've lost my gun. And I don't have any money to buy a new one. I doubt Duke gives freebies." You huffed out.

Heisenberg rolled his eyes. "God, you sure do whine a lot. Here-" He dropped a tiny pouch in your lap. "There's some coins in there. That should be enough to buy you a new gun. And for fucks sake, get a gun with more rounds! You don't have time to be loading a gun mid battle." He huffed. "So, where are you going now?"

You rolled your head from side to side. "Well, I went to the Beneviento house. Didn't find Ethan or Rose there. Now, I'm going to the lake."

"The lake? Huh, well if you survived Donna, then Moreau should be a piece of cake. You got the map? Let me show you the short cut, it's not far from here." You gave him the map and he showed you the directions.

"Where are you going then?"

"Mother Miranda called. Don't worry, I'll keep our meeting a secret." He then nodded at you. "Alright, I'm off now."

"Wait!" Your voice stopped him. "I don't know when I'll see Duke again. And I don't have gun, so what if another pack of lycans come?"

Heisenberg slumped his shoulders as he let out an annoyed sigh. "Fine. I gotta do everything by myself." He dog whistled and one of the soldats stopped maiming the lycan and ran to Heisenberg. "From now on, you're gonna listen to her."The soldat looked at you and nodded. "If she tells you to kill, you kill. If she tells you to die, you die. Follow her around and keep her safe." The soldat nodded. Then Heisenberg turned to you. "He's already dead, so don't worry about throwing him in danger. Oh and also, just take him into the sun every once in a while so that his engine can recharge. You'll know when he needs the sun."

You were baffled. "Wait, Heisenberg- how the- what the hell am I supposed to do with him?"

"Figure it out, kid. Think of him as a guard dog."

You looked at the soldat then at Heisenberg's retreating form, then back at the soldat.

"So..." The soldat stared at you. "You got a name?"

"Handsome." You nodded to yourself as you trudged, using the soldat's arm to support yourself. "That's what I'm gonna call you. Handsome. What do you think?"

The soldat was wearing a metal contraption over its eyes, so you couldn't really tell what it was feeling.

"Well, you don't seem to have any complaints, so from now on, you'll respond to the name "Handsome". Do you understand?"

The soldat nodded.

You laughed. God, the pain meds were either making me stupid or everything else funnier.

You looked at the map again. Just a couple of more minutes and then a right turn. And then you should see the lake- god, this map was confusing as hell.

"So..." you wondered what you should ask the cyborg. Oh right. "You seen Ethan? Blonde man, crazy big eyes. Or a baby, Rose?" The man shook his head no.

Sigh. What else could I ask him? What about how did he die? No, what if that's triggering? I can't handle a Terminator right now. And I don't think I should ask him about his past or anything that'll cause him to have a existential crisis. Ah! I've got it!

"Hey, how do you see?"

The soldat looks down at you for a few seconds then points at his metal contraption.

Wait- is that sarcasm?

You scoff. "Of course, you see with your eyes! I meant, with the whole metal thingy covering them, how do you- oh, there's this vision specs in them."

You smiled. "Hey, you're kinda like Cyclops, yknow-" you were cut off as Handsome suddenly pushed you to the ground, turning on his drill.

"Wait, shit- you don't have to be Cyclops! We can talk this out-" but Handsome was focusing on something else, and that's when you saw it. Two lycans.

Handsome ran and easily maimed them to pieces, I mean, you had to look away from the horrific scene midway.

The soldat returned five minutes later, covered in blood. He extended his hand and you reluctantly took it, letting him support you as you began walking again, your heart still beating like crazy.

But you calmed down when you finally reached the lake, the setting sun gave serene feel to the entire reservoir. You inhaled deeply before looking at Handsome. "Lets go down there." You pointed at the lake.

You were both sitting at the wooden broadwalk, your legs hanging off the ledge. You looked at the water, it wasn't crystal clear, but you could see some fishes swimming around, so at least it wasn't dangerous to life. You looked at Handsome, then at his drill and you realised he was still covered in blood. "Lets get you cleaned up, hm?" You said, pulling out a rag from your bag and dipping it in the cold water below. You began with cleaning up his drill, then dipping the rag back in cold water and cleaning his chest and his other arm.

"Good job back there, Handsome."You smiled as Handsome nodded. "Heisenberg was right, you are kinda like a dog. Hmm, I wonder if..." You tested your theory as you petted him on the head. "Good job, Handsome!" But the soldat only tilted its head in confusion.

"Hmm, perhaps not." You cupped the cold water in your hands and washed your own face, You looked at your reflection in the water. "You wanna go for a swim? I don't mind." Handsome shook his head. "Yeah, I'm not a fan of swimming either."

Handsome stared at you. You scoffed. "Oh so you pretend you don't understand what I say, but you want to hear the story? Fine, but I'm only telling you because it might be important later."

You both stared at the water as you began your story. "Well, when I was 15, I had snuck out of the house to go to a party. It was at this rich girl's house and I knew she didn't like me, but I was surprised when she had invited me to her place. Yes, a red flag I should've seen from miles ago, but I was young and dumb and desperate to climb the highschool social hierarchy." You chuckled. "Anyways, long story short, one of the guys there pushed me into the pool because I don't know if they thought it was funny to see me drown? By some luck, I managed to grab onto the pool ledge and pull myself up. I immediately left the party, embarrassed and cold and on the verge of breaking down. Then on the way back home, there was this car following me and then some weirdo catcalled me and tried to get me in his car. Now, scared for my life because I watched a lot of Criminal Minds, I ran all the way home, praying that he leaves me alone. I think he stopped when he saw a Range Rover following him, but I don't know. I just rushed back home." You sighed. "You know what happened next? I bursted through the front door, slamming it shut and I turn around to see my dad in the living room, looking surprised to see me. He stood up and looked me up and down and then said, "Y/n? You're drenched completely. And you're messing up the floor. You know what? Mia's in the bathroom right now, why don't you go upstairs and I'll clean up here. You know how she gets when there's water on the wood." And I was just so shocked, that I didn't say anything and went back upstairs. Once I was in the shower, that's when I broke down crying. I almost drowned, almost got kidnapped and my father was worried about me messing up the wooden floor? Hell, he didn't even ask me why I was coming home at midnight." Your tears fell into the lake, making small ripples. You chuckled, "God, I always wondered how tired he must've been from work that day to ignore all these visible signs of distress. I always hated his job, you know? They made him work way too much." You looked at Handsome who was looking at the lake. "Anywho, now you know I can't swim so, save me if I fall into this lake, okay?" He nodded.

You guys sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes before a question popped up in your mind. "Handsome?" He turned his head towards you, only to see a mischievous smile on your face. "Are you seeing someone?" The man turned his back to the lake, making you laugh. "Ahh, so you like someone. Tell me, is it someone from the village?" The man further turned his head away from you in embarrassment. "Oh come on, tell me! Is it a girl?" He nodded reluctantly, making you punch his arm. "You dog! Does she know?" Handsome shook his head, making you smile. "Tell you what? As a payback for saving me back there, I'll help you get her. I'll be your wingman, Handsome, hm?" He nodded a bit enthusiastically.

"We all deserve good things, Handsome. No matter how we look, or what we are, these things don't really define one's self worth. Its our intentions, you know?" Handsome didn't know, but he nodded anyways.

"Good. Now, lets go check out this place. Keep an eye out for Ethan and Rose, okay?" You told him, not knowing someone was already watching the two of you.

So... thought?

What did you guys think about Handsome? I'm gonna post a pic of him soon if you guys want.

Part 5 is here.

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infinitefandomimagines · 3 years

Text

Scarred - Zuko x Reader

WARNINGS: ARGUING, BURN SCARS, ANGST

REQUEST: zuko x reader where the reader is the last one to forgive zuko at the western air temple bc he accidentally hurt her in the crystal catacombs and than zuko goes to her tent, begging for forgiveness and she shows him the scar he gave her and it’s super fluffy:33

"Y/N. . . what do you say?" All eyes landed on you, waiting for your response to Aang's question. However, there was only one pair of eyes in particular you glared back at; and if looks could kill, the recently renounced Fire Nation prince in front of you would've surely met his demise right then. But Zuko knew how to hold himself in front of those who wanted to intimidate him. If there was anything his father taught him, it was that much.

Despite your fiery stare and previous threats from the first time he pleaded for forgiveness that you'd "knock him on his ass" if he ever came near you again, he kept his composure. There was no doubt in his mind you'd stay true to that warning, which is why he made sure to keep enough distance between the two of you.

There was a hopeful gleam in his eyes, so far Aang, Sokka, Katara, and Toph had agreed to let him join the team, albeit some more hesitantly than others. If everyone else found it in their hearts to forgive and forget, surely you could as well. Wrong.

"No."

You saw the last bit of hope fizzle from his eyes as defeat weighed down on him, causing his shoulders to sink and his head to drop. "I know you don't trust me, I don't blame you. I've done horrible things, hurt you and your friends-"

"You can't even begin to imagine the amount of pain you've caused me!" Your words held a venomous sting, yet your tone was strained, calm almost.

"Y/N," Katara stepped up behind you, her voice was soft. You could barely feel the hand she'd placed on your left shoulder, thick and itchy bandages blocking her attempt at comfort. "I don't like it either, but Aang needs to learn fire bending."

"I really believe he's changed, give him a chance to-"

You cut Aang off, finally breaking your gaze from Zuko to face the young monk. "He's already had too many chances!"

No one could admit that you were wrong, not even Zuko. Because every time he'd faught against your little group of rag-tag heroes, you'd given him a chance. Even while the rest of team avatar faught the exiled prince, you never threw a single blow that wasn't defensive or to save your friends. Instead, you'd offer him a chance to join the right side. Of course, he never accepted, but you saw the benefits of your kindness when he'd began to show a sense of mercy against you. There was something in your head telling you he was more than just a villain.

But that mindset changed when you and the gang faught against him and his sister in the crystal catacombs. When Aang almost died. When he chose the Fire Nation's side. When he'd made sure to leave you a permanent reminder of that day.

After a few moments of tense silence, you let out an impatience scoff. "Leave, Zuko. I gave you my answer, the least you can do is respect it."

Reluctantly, he nodded, mumbling out an apology before turning on his heels. He only got in a few steps before Aang interjected.

"Zuko, stop."

He did, glancing over his shoulder, ready to hear what Aang had to say.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but Zuko is staying. I need need to learn fire bending and he's my only option. I really believe he's changed for the better."

"You don't have to forgive him, but Aang's right, we need him," Sokka added in, to which Toph agreed.

You took in their words, it was obvious they weren't up for debate. You hated that they were right, you all did need Zuko, no matter your current opinion on him.

"Fine," you sighed, looking at Zuko, who was now standing awkwardly with his hands behind his back. "But stay away from me."

Over the next few days, Zuko had somehow managed to gain the complete and utter trust of everyone, even Katara. Everyone except you. Then again, you hadn't had your "life changing field trip with Zuko" that made everyone seemingly forget about everything he'd ever done to them. Field trip or not, earning your trust wasn't going to be that easy. You didn't care how many times he made everybody tea and told cringey jokes.

"Where did you learn to make so many different types of tea?" Aang inquired, causing everyone to look at Zuko, wanting to hear his answer.

Zuko returned to his seat around the fire between Toph and Aang, finally finished handing out small cups of tea. "My uncle, it's his favorite thing to make, he even owned a tea shop at one point."

"You mean the one you betrayed," you deadpanned coldly. You flicked your eyes up from the warm cup of tea in your hands to Zuko, wanting to see his reaction.

His smile faultered, and katara shot a disapproving look at you. For a second you felt guilty, maybe that was too far. He looked genuinely hurt by your comment, but soon another emotion took over his features. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw and sat up straighter.

"Yeah. That one." His tone was one of poorly restrained bitterness, you'd definitely struck a nerve.

You hummed in response, refusing to break eye contact with him, like you were challenging him to say something equally as cold, but he didn't take the bait. Instead, he took a deep breath, just like his uncle taught him.

"I don't get it," He asked, frustrated and fed up with your snarky comments and side eyes. "Everyone else trusts me, why can't you?"

"You really have to ask?"

Katara could feel the tension and awkwardness of the impending argument hanging over everyone. This wasn't the time nor place to be having this conversation.

"I think now would be a good time for another healing session," she interjected, giving you a look that informed you she wasn't exactly asking. With a frustrated huff, you stood up and made your way to your tent, not even waiting for Katara to follow.

You plopped down onto your sleeping bag, sitting with your left side towards the opening.

Katara was there in a few minutes, holding a medium sized bowl of water in her hands. She gently set it down on the ground, taking a seat on your sleeping bag as well, facing your left side.

You tugged your left sleeve down so you could free it. With your shoulder now exposed, she carefully removed the bandages that covered your shoulder and the side of your neck, revealing the red and scarred skin hidden underneath.

"How does it look?" You asked, attempting to ignore the itchy feeling of the fresh air hitting your wound.

"It's healing, slowly" she answered as she conjured the water from the bowl and molded it with her hands. She purified the liquid, causing it it glow. Slowly, she lowered it until the cool water molded over your injured skin. You clenched your teeth and whimpered at the sudden sting the contact made, but then Katara started making circular motions with her hands, beginning the healing process. The stinging pain soon morphed into a comforting cold and relieving sensation.

Katara had done this for you and Aang multiple times since the gang escaped from that wretched crystal catacomb. As much progress as your skin had made in healing, you couldn't seem to wipe the painful memories of how you'd recieved such a wound from your mind. You could remember the events so vividly it was as if they'd happened yesterday.

You were stalling, Zuko and Azula knew that, yet they didn't seem to mind. If anything, Azula enjoyed watching you struggle to give your friends more time. You needed to stall them long enough for Aang to fully enter the avatar state, that's all.

"Come on, Zuko, you know what needs to be done!" Azula coaxed.

"No! You still have a chance Zuko, you can still make this right!" You could see the conflict rising in him as you and Azula tugged at his morals.

There was a moment, a single second where his emotions betrayed him, where you could see how badly he wanted to go with you and the gang. But it was gone just as fast as it came.

"I will kill the avatar and restore my honor, as well as my rightful place beside my father!" He launched into action, sending overpowering blows your way.

He kept you distracted and unable to help your friends long enough for Azula to strike down Aang. Your head snapped towards Katara's screams and you saw him laying there, completely unconscious.

You were distracted, and Zuko impulsively took advantage, sending a blast of orange and red flames towards you.

In all honesty, he expected you to dodge it, you always did without fail. But this time you were too distracted, too concerned with Aang, and he caught you completely off guard. You didn't even realize you were being attacked until the flames painfully scorched your skin.

You let out a horrifying scream as you crumbled to your knees, your shaky hand hovering over your left shoulder as you tried to control your instinct to grab it, knowing it would only hurt worse. You clenched your teeth together, biting back tears as you whipped your head around go see Zuko.

He looked shocked, remorseful even, but that didn't stop anger from edging its way into your glare.

You shuddered at the memory and tried to shake it from your head completely.

"You're all done," Katara said, maneuvering the water back into the bowl. A dull ache returned to your wound, but it felt significantly better than before.

"Thanks, Katara," you mumbled.

"Do you need help rewrapping the bandages?"

You shook your head, preferring to be alone and do the difficult task by yourself. Katara seemed to understand, because she didn't push the issue like she usually would. Instead, she left you with a few words.

"What you said was too far tonight, you should really apologize to Zuko, he is trying you know?"

She didn't wait for a response, not that you planned on giving much of one anyway, but soon you were alone, relishing in the peaceful silence.

But your silence didn't last long, just a few minutes after Katara left there was a whispering voice just outside your tent. It was unmistakable who'd come to visit you, and with great reluctance did you let him in.

"What do you want?" you asked, annoyance filling your voice. You refused to make eye contact with the boy, opting to stare at the mess of tangled bandages in your hands.

Your question was met with silence, that only seemed to worsen your mood. Really? He invades your tent just to ignore your one question? This guy was just unbelievable!

You could feel yourself loosing your temperature once again. "I said, what do you-" Your head snapped up at Zuko, ready to tell him off. But you froze when you saw his gaze, and how it held your figure. His jaw was slack, and his eyes swam as tears pooled at his lash-line. But his eyes never met yours. No, his focus was completely on the uncovered scar that graced your left side.

Your shoulder had taken most of the impact, just shy of being completely colored with a dull red scar. But the wound didn't stop there, covering a decent portion of your shoulder blade. The red marking also stretched up in a jagged stripe, narrowing to a point on the side of your neck, just barely marking your cheek.

You hated how you shuddered under his gaze, and had to look away. Your fingers moving faster as your tried to unravel the tangled bandage. You wanted to cover the burned area as soon as possible.

"I- I did that." It wasn't a question. He spoke purely in matter-of-fact statements, he knew exactly where you'd received your mark from.

"Yeah." You said sharply, picking up the bandage and moving to re-wrap the large wound.

"I . . . I am so sorry-"

"You've said."

Re-wrapping the affected area was proving to be more difficult than you'd thought, especially in your heightened state or frustration. Usually Katara did this part, and you were starting to regret sending her away.

"Please, let me help you," Zuko pleaded, reaching a shaky hand out to grasp at the bandage in your grip. You immediately flinched away from him, the sudden movement sending a sharp pain through your left side.

"Stay away from me!" You bit at him.

Zuko immediately pulled his hand back from you, as if he'd burned you unintentionally for a second time. "I'm sorry," he impulsively spilled out.

"Would you stop saying that? Stop apologizing, nothing is going to make me- ow!" Your own pain cut your sentence short, the sharp pain returning, sending another shock wave up your side at your frustrated movements.

"I'm so- just, please, let me help you and then I'll leave you alone, I promise."

You took a moment to think about the offer, and as much as you didn't want his help, the promise for him to leave is what enticed you to agree. So reluctantly, you handed him the bandages and positioned yourself closer to him, allowing Zuko to access your wound and wrap it with ease.

With slow movements, Zuko began wrapping the burned area. His touch was suprisingly gentle, even more so than Katara's, something you hadn't thought possible. But even with his feather-like touch, your skin still twitched as his fingers and the bandages made contact with the more sensitive areas. Zuko muttered out small apologies each time you flinched, despite your earlier message to stop that. Though the skin had begun the early stages of scarring, it was still sensitive.

"Uh, d-did I ever tell you how I got my scar?" Zuko asked suddenly, not even bothering to look up from his task. You knew what he was doing, he'd been doing things like that since he got here, trying to make small talk with you to cover up the awkward tension. You usually never entertained it, but for some reason tonight you felt intrigued by his question.

"No." You answered shortly, trying your best not to show your growing interest. You'd always been curious about the scar.

"My father gave it to me," he stated, oddly calmly. It was almost mindless the way he told the story as he continued to carefully wrap up your injury. Like the memory had become second nature to tell.

"Oh," you whispered out softly, your mind buzzing with a million different ways to respond to him, yet none of them felt right.

"I spoke out of turn during a meeting, over a general. They wanted to sacrifice an entire division of fire nation soldiers to gain the advantage. But I-," He swallowed thickly. ". . . I thought that was wrong so I spoke up."

You nodded ever so slightly, letting out a soft hum, showing that you were still listening and waiting for him to continue. At this point Zuko had finished wrapping the bandages around your burn, allowing you to turn your body to face him fully.

"My father was furious with my disrepect towards the general. He said that the dispute would need to be resolved with an agni kai, and I accepted. And when the day came I thought I'd be fighting the general I interrupted, but then my father walked out, my agni kai was to be against him."

With each word you felt your heart grow heavier and ache for the boy you swore you hated. You were beginning to question whether you genuinely hated him or if what you truly felt was left over betrayal and anger.

"How old were you?" You finally asked the question that had been bouncing around your head since he began the story.

"Thirteen, not long before I was banished."

You felt yourself boil with anger, but for once it wasn't directed towards the boy in front of you. No, you were furious with the Fire Lord. Who could do that to someone? To a child. Zuko must not have noticed the way your jaw clenched and your fists tightened into balls, because he continued the story as if he hadn't just made your heart drop into your stomach with his answer.

"I didn't want to fight my father, I couldn't. But he took my refusal as another sign of disrespect. I begged for his forgiveness, but he wouldn't hear it. He claimed that I would learn my lesson through suffering. He raised his hand just in front of my face and then he-"

His voice caught in his throat with a crack as he visibly grimaced from the sheer memory of the event. Instinctively, you reached out for his hand, placing yours over top of his much larger one. Now it was his turn to flinch at the sudden contact.

"Zuko, it's okay, you don't have to tell me this, I understand-"

"No! I do! I need you to understand that I never meant to hurt you! I need you to know that the last thing I wanted was for you to feel the same pain I did. After what my father did, I never wanted to inflict that on anyone. I knew that pain and yet I still hurt you . . . the one person who actually believed I could change!"

His hands flew into the air as his frustrated yells of regret were lost to the silent night. He then exasperatedly brought his arms back down and dropped his head into the palms of his hands. His body shook as he took in deep breaths, trying his best not to shed any tears. He was just so frustrated with himself.

"I thought you would dodge it," His muffled whimpers poured out. "You always dodged it."

It was then that you realized how cold you'd been to the boy. You were so caught up in your own hurt and anger, only concerned with making him feel as horrible as you had with your hurtful words. Not once had you considered that he was already kicking himself ten times harder for the pain he'd caused you. He really hadn't meant to hurt you.

And that's when you did something unexpected. In an impulsive attempt to comfort him, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him in to a hug. His breath hitched, obviously shocked by the gesture, his body going stiff.

"I understand now, I forgive you, Zuko."

At those seven words he melted into your embrace, returning it as he wrapped his arms around your figure. His chin now rested on top of your good shoulder, as he was being extra cautious as to not press on your burns.

"And I'm sorry, for what I said about you and your uncle. He'd be proud of you."

His grip on you tighten, mumbling out a 'thank you,' in the process, finally feeling as though he could fully begin healing from all the wrong he'd done.

TAGLIST: @theepartygetsmewetter

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helpimhyperfixating · 3 years

Text

Spilled Tea - Jotaro x Reader

Word Count: 6235

After a long week, it was finally Friday. College had been gruelling and despite being let out before noon today, it took you until around seven thirty to finish your work in preparation for the next week.

So now here you sat, in your apartment dorm. You were in the comfy chair in the corner, reading a book that you had started to get into last week. Your eyes weren't really cooperating after a full day of working, but you tried nonetheless and read at a comfortable snail's pace.

That was, until about eight thirty when the door was slammed open.

Surprised, you looked up from your book only for your eyes to widen slightly. Stumbling inside was your roommate, her face in the process of being swallowed by her girlfriend.

Working hard to take off each other's coats, they just dumped them on the floor as they never broke their make-out session, not even noticing you were there in the corner since they only had eyes for each other.

As she walked backwards, your roommate took off her girlfriend's shirt and you were quick to turn your head away, placing a hand on the side of your face to act as blinders as you looked at the floor with wide-blown eyes.

Thank god they walked away from the main room and towards their bedroom, allowing you to take a breath of relief.

Your roommate had told you she was going out on a date today and you had even complimented her on her outfit, but you certainly hadn't expected this.

There was an embarrassed blush on your face at what you just witnessed. You were actually pretty sure they didn't even know you were also here. Or your roommate forgot you existed in the heat of the moment.

You wanted to snicker at that, but the noise was stifled in your throat when you heard a thump of a body being pushed against the door, followed by a low moan.

Taking that as your que, you slammed your book closed as your cheeks burned, quickly walking over to the door and putting on your shoes, opening the door and rushing out of your shared apartment with your coat in hand and one shoe still half on. You figured it was probably best to give them some... ahem... privacy.

- - - -

Having properly gotten on your shoe and coat, you were now just walking around on the streets.

The wind was nipping at your exposed skin while all you could really do was stare at the ground as you walked. You knew that you probably shouldn't get back to your apartment dorm for a while.

About a week or so ago, your roommate's girlfriend came by and started happily chatting with you when your roommate was out buying dinner. She was nice and you really liked her, but she tended to overshare a few things. Such as how 'she and Lily hadn't 'done it' in quite a while and once she got her hands on Li, they'd go all night long.'

Just thinking back on that conversation and what you witnessed ten minutes ago made you squirm a bit from embarrassment. If they wanted to do it then they should go for it. You just wished they'd done it not when you were around.

And now here you were. Walking outside in the frigid night air, your path illuminated by street lamps and the moon.

You couldn't walk outside all night long. You knew that. But what options did you have? Go back in a while in the hopes they were done? Go back regardless of whether they were done or not and just toughen it out if they weren't? Go and rent a hotel room for one night and waste your money on that? No, all of those were bad.

Looking up, you noticed your feet had automatically dragged you to the play park on a twenty minute walking distance from campus. You hung out here with Jotaro all the time, standing around quietly or sitting on the swings as you talked, you lightly swinging while Jotaro just swayed a bit.

That's when it hit you. Of course! Maybe you could go to Jotaro! He lived alone. Maybe he wouldn't mind letting you crash on his couch for one night. He wouldn't, right?

Looking at your watch, you raised your brows in a little bit of a panic. It was getting close to nine o'clock now. If you didn't hurry, you would arrive too late and wake him up from sleeping, disturbing his sleep schedule. You really wanted to avoid doing that.

So, with a pep in your step, you started speed-walking in the direction of his apartment complex.

Ten minutes later you stood in front of his door and anxiously knocked on the wood. After a second or so, you heard some shuffling and not long after, the door opened, revealing Jotaro.

He had an annoyed scowl on his face, his hat nowhere in sight as he stood in casual clothes; sweat-pants and a black t-shirt.

"Pipsqueak." His scowl softened a little as he laid his eyes on you, seeing your nervous form in front of him as you looked at the floor.

"H-Hi." You attempted a smile but it came out a little more awkward.

"What are you doing here?" Jotaro asked the question as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned into the doorpost.

Letting out a breath, you just deflated, slumping over and just looking at the ground defeatedly. "Can I crash at your place tonight? I'd prefer to not go home for today." Raising your head up and straightening your back, you looked up to see him with a raised brow. "I can just take the couch or a chair or even the floor! And if you want I'll be gone as soon as morning comes so you won't even know I'm he-" Jotaro shut you up by putting his finger to your lips.

"Just shut up and come inside." He took a sidestep so you could pass him in the doorway, although you had to say it was a bit of a squeeze, your body accidentally brushing past his as he didn't bother moving out of the doorway to let you in.

Once you were inside, he closed the door behind you and just waited as you took off your coat and shoes, shooing you further into his dorm once you did.

"Sit." He pointed at the couch and you quickly did as he said, sitting down while he went over to his kitchenette, starting to put on a kettle for tea.

There was a bit of an awkward silence as you waited for the water to boil, the two of you too far apart to be able to converse without raising your voice so instead opting to stay silent.

Pretty soon, the kettle was whistling and Jotaro poured two mugs of tea, walking over and setting it down in front of you before placing his own cup down beside it and sitting next to you.

This surprised you slightly since he had always taken a seat opposite to you. To be fair, whenever you came over, you had always sat down in one of the two chairs he had opposite his couch, but still. Your mind drifted to what you saw tonight, what caused you to come here in the first place and for a split second you wondered if Jotaro had other intentions but you quickly shook your head to get that thought out. Jotaro did not like women. Just because you were his friend did not mean he was automatically in love with you.

"You alright?" Jotaro suddenly spoke up from beside you. He had seen your cheeks flush slightly before you shook your head and was curious what that was about. Were you thinking about him?

"Yep!" You squeaked, leaning forward to grab your tea and hiding your face behind the mug and steam. He always had these giant mugs that were perfect for holding and warming your hands on, now functioning even better since you could hide your face behind the massive thing. "Thank you for the tea and for letting me in." You muttered, your lips pressed against the rim of the cup.

Jotaro just hummed in reply before shifting a little so he could face you. "Why did you need to come here? Had a fight with your roommate?"

You lowered the cup a little and rested it on your thigh, laughing a little awkwardly. "Aha, yeah about that. No, I didn't get into a fight, she's still great. Uh, no, Lily went out on a date with her girlfriend tonight and uh, well what I didn't expect was them both coming home, right in the process of... Y'know."

"I know?" He raised his eyebrow at you.

"Y-Yeah, you know..." You stuck out your chin a bit, waving your hand in a circle as if that would make him understand what you were implying.

"Sex?"

"Y-yEs! You don't have to go out and say it so bluntly!" You frantically called out. "And, they were in the process of it, not there yet." You mumbled afterwards as you looked off to the side.

A deep chuckle sounded from your left and you turned your head to see Jotaro giving you a teasing smirk. "I didn't expect you to even know what sex was."

"W-What is that supposed to mean?!" You called back, undignified.

Jotaro just shrugged, the smirk still on his face. "With how you are. I mean, you can't even say the word."

"I-I can say it." You pouted, your cheeks flushing deeply.

"Really? Then say it."

"Why?"

"Say. It." Jotaro leaned towards you, looking into your eyes.

Having him lean so close to you flustered you and you needed to get him to back up lest you explode. "Fine! They were gonna have sex and I didn't want to be there to hear it! There, good?" You broke the eye contact and bashfully looked to your right.

"Mhm." Jotaro hummed in reply, seemingly satisfied as he sat back up, taking a sip of his tea as he leaned into the backrest of the couch. "You should've stayed around, maybe you'd have learned something from it." He commented offhandedly and you snapped your head towards him, your cheeks burning hotter than ever.

"What!? No! I- I- I- No! Just no!" You protested fervently. Either he meant you would be there to listen to their noises or he was implying that you should join them. Neither were one you were up for!

"See? You're too innocent." Jotaro scoffed amusedly, bringing his cup back to his face.

"You're mean." You pouted softly, trying to calm your heart so blood would stop rushing to your face.

"And you're dense." Jotaro retorted and you sent him a questioning glare, getting no answer in return as you just looked at each other in silence. "You can sleep here on the couch." He then said after a bit.

"Thanks." You smiled, having calmed down a little.

"I'll go get you a spare blanket." He put his cup down on the coffee table and got up with a small grunt, walking out of the main room and into the hall, presumably going to his bedroom to get the blanket.

You took a small sip of the steaming tea in the meanwhile, lowering the cup to sit on your thigh again as you waited.

About a minute or two later, Jotaro returned with a thick fluffy blanket in hand and you smiled at him, standing up to make room for the blanket, only to have your smile wiped off your face as that action caused you to tip over your mug.

The scalding tea splashed over your entire stomach and part of your left arm and a panicked and pained noise left your throat, sounding more like a drawn out grunt than a scream.

Jotaro's eyes widened and he immediately rushed over, throwing the blanket on the couch and taking the mug from your right hand, setting it down quickly before placing a hand on your shoulder and one on your good arm, looking you over.

Your breathing was fast and you quickly went to grab the hem of your shirt but Jotaro grabbed your wrist. "Don't!" He said in alarm. "Just stay here." He quickly let you go and rushed over to the kitchenette.

Grabbing a washcloth, he immediately held it under cold water, sending you a glance before quickly turning off the tap, going back over to you.

Your hands were shaking a little as you went to pick at the fabric of your shirt, trying to lift it off for at least some sort of relief. Right as you grasped it, your hand was grabbed instead and you looked up with a start to see Jotaro shaking his head at you, telling you to not do that.

He lifted your hand away from your shirt, crouching in front of you and pressing the wet washcloth to your stomach.

The water started soaking into your shirt, the coolness of it contrasting with the scalding tea, bringing some much needed relief.

Jotaro's hand was on your hip as he used it to be able to put more pressure on the cloth, wringing the water out as he dabbed it across the stain on your belly.

After a bit, he got up and re-watered the cloth before returning to the position he was in before, continuing to dab.

You hissed a little at the pain it brought when he pressed it on again before starting to chuckle through it. "I'm sorry, that was really stupid." You laughed through the pain, hearing Jotaro sigh as he sat in front of you.

"It was."

"Oi!" You lightly pushed his forearm in retaliation but it did nothing as he didn't even move a finger on your hip. "Aren't you supposed to reassure the person in pain instead of agree?"

"For once, you are right about something. I can't undersell that accomplishment." He tilted his head up a little, allowing you to see the small and teasing smirk on his face as he looked at you through his lashes.

"You're mean."

"And you're still dense. Give me your arm." Jotaro released your hip and held out his hand in front of you. You obliged and he grabbed hold of your hand, pulling your arm a little more in front of himself so he could press the washcloth onto your forearm.

After a minute or so, seeing that it was sufficiently cooled down, Jotaro got up from his crouching position.

"Take off your shirt." He said before letting you go and turning around, walking over to the kitchenette and holding the washcloth under the cold water again. He looked back as he was doing that, seeing you still in the same position, yet looking at him with wide eyes. "Take off your shirt, now." He commanded firmly and you started a bit in place. The seriousness and urgency in his voice caused you to hustle and you started to pull your shirt over your head.

As the fabric rubbed past your burnt and irritated skin, you hissed slightly, especially when the cool air rushed past it. Pulling your right arm out of the sleeve, you were just left with your left arm, the wet cloth sticking a bit to your skin. Yet, thanks to the cool water Jotaro had dabbed on it, you managed to peel it off of yourself without doing more damage by taking your skin with it.

You were so focused on getting your shirt off without hurting yourself that you didn't even notice Jotaro had already moved back to standing in front of you.

As he looked down at you, he swallowed audibly, seeing you standing in your bra in front of him. He had momentarily forgotten that if you were to take off your shirt, you would be standing here in front of him like this. He inwardly cursed himself for leaving his hat in his room, making him unable to hide his blushing face. So instead, he opted to just look down.

"Come, it's best to hold your arm directly under the water." Jotaro seemed to appear out of nowhere for you as he grabbed a hold of your right wrist, pulling you with him over to the sink and positioning you in front of it before turning you to your right so you were standing sideways. He turned on the tap and moved your burnt arm under it before letting go.

He got down on his haunches again in front of you, once again taking hold of your hip while now pressing the washcloth to your bare skin.

It was cold and made the muscles of your stomach flinch, making you giggle a bit nervously. Jotaro looked up for a second upon hearing that but he soon averted his eyes back to your stomach, just looking at the scalded skin where the tea hit. Cause damn, looking up at you from this angle he uh...

You had no idea where to put your right arm, just awkwardly holding it crossed over your chest as you looked to what Jotaro was doing. His face was so close to your bare stomach, you were having a really hard time staying composed, trying not to burst from all the blood rushing to your head.

With your awkward position however, your elbow was in front of part of your stomach. So, to help himself and you, Jotaro took hold of your right arm, moving it until your hand was resting on his shoulder, letting go and leaving it there as he placed his hand back on your hip once again; though it was a little bit higher than before, his thumb and pointer finger now 'accidentally' resting above the hem of your pants.

"You really are an idiot sometimes." Jotaro softly sighed, re-wetting the washcloth in the bowl of water he had next to him. You hadn't even seen him get it.

"As much as I want to object to that, I can't." You chuckled, trying your best to appear normal despite being flustered beyond reason. Clearing your throat, you turned your gaze from watching Jotaro's actions to watching the water pouring down on your forearm. "Can- can I turn the water off? My arm is starting to freeze off."

"Leave it for a bit longer." Jotaro commented offhandedly and you bit your lip a bit. It was starting to get really uncomfortable and you were very tempted to just pull it away. Yet you also knew Jotaro wouldn't take your bullshit and would have no problems with shoving your arm under there again.

You suddenly jumped when Jotaro moved to rest his hand on the small of your back. You caught his gaze and he had raised an eyebrow teasingly. It was always a small joke between the two of you how jumpy you were, where Jotaro was always quick to point out when you startled. But right now, while he still had a teasing look in his eyes, he didn't say anything. It might have had something to do with the slightly rosy colour on his cheeks, but then again, how could you blame him? You'd get embarrassed with anyone if you had to do what he was doing for you right now.

Jotaro continued to press the washcloth to your stomach, now spreading his hand flat and keeping it still on your stomach for a bit.

"I'm sorry but I gotta-" You broke the small silence and removed your arm from under the running water, turning the tap off. "Not only is my arm going to get hypothermia, your water bill is gonna be through the roof."

"Don't worry about my bills dumbass. And, while you can get hypothermia, your arm can't."

"Oh, hurr, hurr. Leave me and my burnt arm to make dumb statements. It's been a long day and I'm tired okay?" You pouted a little, looking off to the side.

"Yare yare daze. You're a piece of work. Keep dabbing it." Jotaro put the washcloth in the bowl of water one last time before shoving it in your right hand. With that, he stood up straight, moving away from you and back into the hallway, going to do whatever.

The moment he was out of sight, you burst; letting out the breath you had been unconsciously holding back for god knows how long. Clutching your head, you freaked a bit as you processed what was going on.

You were in your best friend's house, standing in his kitchen in just your bra. Not only that, but he had been gently taking care of you after you were being an idiot! And, though it was most likely the 'having witnessed your roommate going to have sex in the room right next to you', you couldn't help but think of how the position he had been sitting in was very suggestive. Ah! God! Why must you think this way?! He was your best friend! You can't ruin your relationship with him by having a crush on him!

What were you going to do? What were you going to do? What were you going to do?!

"I thought I told you to keep dabbing." Jotaro's voice cut through the silence, scaring your soul out of your body and making you shoot up straight, which in turn made you whine a little in pain since it stretched the skin on your belly.

Jotaro let out a long sigh as he approached. He had a few items in his hand and placed them down on the counter next to him. You noted an ointment that would help with burns, bandaging and a black T-shirt, most likely pulled directly from his drawer.

"It's really not that bad, Jotaro. It was just some hot tea, It's already just a dull pain, I'll be fine tomorrow." You tried, finding the items a little excessive.

"Shut up." Jotaro spoke but as he did, his eyes slowly glid over your exposed torso, almost as if he was taking it all in after stepping away for a bit. Instinctually, you crossed your arms over your chest, making him snap out of his state. "I don't care, I'm putting it on." He spoke nonchalantly, yet there now was a visible blush on his cheeks upon having been caught staring.

"Y-You're putting it on?!"

"Yes, I don't trust you with it." Jotaro tried to clear the atmosphere with his joke but you were too far gone in your embarrassment. So far even that you didn't realise Jotaro had grabbed your arm and the crème until he already started rubbing it on.

"Ah!" You hissed through your teeth, automatically trying to pull your arm away, only to fail heavily because Jotaro still had a firm hold of it.

"Don't squirm, it'll make it harder." He spoke, completely focused on your arm, and you stopped.

His touch was rough with how he was holding onto your arm, yet surprisingly gentle with how carefully he slathered the crème onto your sensitive skin.

"Jotaro... I-" You started but then stopped. You had no idea what to say.

The man in question had raised his gaze when you spoke his name, but diverted his attention again when you didn't continue, instead grabbing the roll of bandaging.

Without a word, he started wrapping it around your burnt arm, making sure to securely pack your entire forearm where you were hit.

"There, now you can move your arm without worrying about being a dumbass and chafing it past stuff."

You opened your mouth to protest, one finger in the air, but then you realised. "Okay yea, that is a thing I would do, you win with this one."

Jotaro scoffed at that and to retaliate, you yanked the little curl that always dangled in front of his face, earning an angry growl from him. Or at least, what you thought was an angry growl.

"Careful, Y/N." He warned and you stuck out your tongue at him. God, he nearly lost his self-control with that. Oh, how he wanted to be able to shut your smart mouth up by slamming his lips to yours, pushing that tongue back in with his own and kissing you until you saw stars and had to cling to him for support. But he refrained himself, instead focusing on putting the burn crème on your stomach.

"If- if you want I can do that myself."

"No." Was his only answer as he crouched back down in front of you. "Put your hands on my shoulders." He then said and you decided to just do as he asked, placing your hands on his shoulders which kept them out of Jotaro's way for him.

Squirting some of the crème on the fingers of his right hand, he grabbed a hold of your hip once more, holding on firmly as he put the cold ointment on your skin.

You once again flinched slightly and before either of you knew what he was doing, Jotaro had placed a featherlight kiss on your stomach to soothe you.

"J-Jotaro?" You squeaked, slightly squeezing his shoulders in surprise.

All the while, Jotaro didn't even notice, for he had whole other things going on in his head. 'FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK, WHY DID I DO THAT?!? Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.'

His head was tilted down so you wouldn't be able to see his flustered wide-eyed panic. What was he supposed to do now? What the hell did he just do?! Should he pretend it never happened? Own up and continue? Throw you out of his dorm in a panic and hope that would solve things? No, he still wasn't done treating you, he couldn't do that. His eyes drifted back to your stomach where only a small part of it was covered in the crème.

God, it... felt... good though. Feeling your soft skin under his lips, the warmth radiating from your body. He wanted to do it again so bad... Only to then trail his way up until he reached your lips. Looking into your eyes for a moment before pressing his lips to yours in a silent confession, one that you would accept and return with ferver. It was almost as if he could feel the tingling of your lips on his, making his breathing turn a little bit heavier.

A small squeak made him shake himself out of his daydream and he looked up at you as to why you made the noise only for him to choke on his own saliva.

"STAR!"

Jotaro's voice nearly cracked as he jumped to his feet, seeing the Stand kissing you.

The big purple ghost had his hands on the sides of your face, breaking the kiss as he heard Jotaro's panicked cry and looking back over his shoulder questioningly.

Your eyes were just wide; confusion and fright being the main two emotions on your face, though your cheeks were visibly VERY dark from how heavily you were blushing. But then again, who could blame you. You couldn't see Stands and were therefore just kissed by nothing.

Jotaro tried to push the Stand away, but of course, with it being a Stand, his arms just passed right through. Star Platinum understood the command of his user though and he quickly let go of your face, moving back to hover over the counter with a guilty look. Was he not supposed to do that? He felt the desire in Jotaro's soul and mistook it for a command.

"Why did you do that?!" Jotaro damn near yelled at the Stand, panic flooding through his veins. Wait, why was he so panicked? He hadn't even been this panicked during the battle with Dio.

"Ora?" Star Platinum questioned and poked at Jotaro's chest, right where his heart sat.

"Fuck!" He paced a bit, completely lost in his own world and thoughts.

"J-J-Jotaro...?" You softly spoke and Jotaro's breath hitched in his throat as he turned to you. You were still here, ah shit.

You were in the same position Star left you in; wide eyed and leaned back a little, your lips slightly parted in surprise.

"Y/N - fuck - I'm sorry I..."

"What just happened?" Your question shot a jab through his heart. He didn't know exactly how frightened you were but he fucked up big time now. In an immediate response to Jotaro's emotions, Star reached out to touch you with the intent of comforting you but Jotaro was quick to attempt to slap his hand away and the Stand understood what he meant, retreating his hand guiltily again before disappearing into the body of his user.

Jotaro then turned to you again. "I- shit." How on earth was he going to explain this? His breath was a bit sped up as he looked at you, but then he just decided 'fuck it', and stepped up. Placing his hands on either side of your face, mirroring Star Platinum's touch from before, he made you snap out of your state and look at Jotaro standing so close to you, looking deeply into your eyes. "Y/N..."

Without a second to spare, he dipped his head down and pushed his lips against yours, kissing you.

In surprise, your hands shot up to hold his hands that were pressed against your cheeks.

The word 'fuck' played on repeat in Jotaro's mind as he kept his eyes squeezed shut. He hadn't doubted his every action this much in a long time and he was honestly wondering what he was doing. Yet the feeling of your soft lips pressed against his bigger ones felt so good and refrained him from pulling back.

And then, the most amazing thing happened: you started kissing back.

His eyes snapped open when he felt you do that, his surprised gaze focusing on your face. You had your eyes closed, your eyebrows creased in nervousness and Jotaro's gaze softened, his eyes slowly closing again as he carefully tilted your head back a little, allowing him to press his lips a little more firmly against yours.

It was a tentative kiss, just trying to figure out where the both of you stood yet still serving well enough to express the unspoken feelings.

After a few seconds, Jotaro pulled back. He was unable to open his eyes for a second, feeling the aftermath of your lips on his. The small, barely noticeable, yet obviously there, spark that made him wish he could just hold you close and keep his lips pressed against yours forever.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open to see your eyes still closed, your smaller hands on his big ones with which he still held onto your face.

Jotaro allowed a small yet soft smile to play on his lips, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone which caused you to open your eyes as well, your pupils shrinking a bit due to the sudden light, only to dilate again as you focused on his face still so close. A tiny shy smile erupted on your face, your fingers wrapping around his for a bit before you nervously glanced off to the side.

"U-Uhm, can I... put on that shirt now?" Your voice was just above a whisper, your adorable awkwardness shining through and causing his chest to swell.

Jotaro chuckled softly and pecked the tip of your nose.

"Just hold it up so I can continue treating your dumb ass."

"Okay." The word was just a whisper. You didn't even have it in you to say a retort or playful insult back.

Knowing he was the reason for your state made Jotaro smirk a little to himself as he let go of your face and turned around to grab the T-shirt. Feeling the fabric in between his fingers for a second before he turned back to you. "Arms up."

"What? No, Jotaro I-"

"Arms up." Jotaro reiterated, clearly not taking no for an answer and you just raised your arms, letting Jotaro slide the shirt over your head. The thing was way too large for you, making it super easy to be pulled over your head by Jotaro. "Make sure it doesn't touch your stomach."

Listening to the man, you held your arms up near your chest at the front and caught the fabric, pulling it down until it was past your bra yet keeping it from going any further. The back of the T-shirt fell down your back and you swallowed heavily as Jotaro now stood before you, looking down at your still exposed belly.

Without another word, he crouched back down, only glancing up at you once before he resumed the position he was in before as if he had never left it, starting up the process of applying the crème again.

"I still think this really isn't necessary, Jotaro. It's really not that bad, it was just tea." You had an awkward smile as you patted his arm, making him glance up for a second before he refocused on what he was doing.

"I don't give a shit. I'm doing it. A burn is a burn." Finally finishing with the crème, Jotaro stood up and washed his hands real quick before turning back to face you as he picked up the bandaging from the counter.

"Yes but bandaging? I don't have third degree burns, Jotaro." You softly quipped, grabbing onto his wrist.

"Maybe, but what are you going to do about it?" He questioned back, a shimmer in his eyes.

"What if I just not let you do it?" You challenged, earning an eyebrow raise from Jotaro.

"You think you'll be able to?"

"Mhm, I think so."

"Really? But what if I. do. this?" He emphasised each word with a movement, lifting his left hand to cup your jaw as he tilted your head so you were looking up at him, leaning down until his lips were ghosting over yours.

"Do what?" You squeaked, trying to keep a brave face, though your burning cheeks sort of gave it away.

Without a word said, Jotaro closed the last bit of the gap, gently kissing you shortly before already moving away, instead moving his lips to right next to your ear. "This." He whispered and you suddenly noticed something had changed.

The moment he broke the kiss, you had felt something around your waist and you now looked down to- "HUH?!"

Your waist was neatly wrapped in white bandaging, not too tight but not too loose either, sitting nicely and protecting your sensitive skin.

Your head snapped up to look at Jotaro, seeing him smirking slyly while you were just confused. "How did you-?"

"I have my ways." He spoke mysteriously. "Maybe I'll tell you someday."

With that, he grasped the rim of the shirt from your hands and pulled it down so that it was covering your stomach again.

As confused and slightly worried as you were with what just happened, you figured you wouldn't get anything from Jotaro anytime soon and thus just decided to leave it be for now. "So, you happy now? Now that I am all bandaged up and taken care of?"

Jotaro cocked his head a little bit, giving you a once over as if he was yet to determine his answer.

You just stood there, almost scared to move under his scrutinising gaze until he suddenly wrapped his arms around you and picked you up, careful of your stomach. You squeaked and clutched onto what part of him you could, just watching bug-eyed as to where he was taking you.

He walked past the couch where the blanket you were going to use was still haphazardly tossed on it, a corner partially unfolded and laying on the floor while a puddle of now cooled down tea lay to the left of it.

With a few steps, Jotaro turned the corner into the hallway, quickly making his way past a door and into a room and you soon realised this was his bedroom.

Your eyes widened slightly and you didn't know what to say or do until he gently placed you down on the far side of the mattress, sliding in beside you almost immediately as he started fixing the blankets.

Once situated, Jotaro then laid down and wrapped his arm around you. Consciously placing it around your midriff, right above the bandaging around your waist and stomach so that he wouldn't hurt you, pulling you a little bit closer as he caged your legs with his own.

"Now I'm happy." He muttered into your hair as he held you close, one arm wrapped around your torso while the other was tracing little patterns on your arm.

All in all, you couldn't believe the things that happened this evening. You left your dorm because your roommate was going to have sex. And now here you were, lying in the bed of your best friend and crush, his arms wrapped around you after the two of you basically confessed to each other because you spilled a giant mug of tea on yourself.

A wild evening indeed.

#jotaro x reader #jjba #Jotaro Kujo #jotaro kujo x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo x reader #jojo #jotaro x y/n #jotaro x you #jjba part 3 #i dunno tags

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

Text

Expanding on the “Schlatt’s book made Dream self-aware” theory

Okay, I know this theory sounds ridiculous...but hear me out.

I haven’t for the life of me been able to come up with any other possibilities for what this mystery’s answer could be, but now I’ve had the idea.

What if Schlatt’s book made Dream self-aware?

---

Let’s go over what we know about Schlatt’s book.

---

With regards to the prison, which Dream mentions the book pertains to:

Dream: “It’s just an option, because if you can’t kill somebody, you might need to lock them up.”

“I have someone in mind, but we might have to wait to do that.”

Bad: “It’s gonna be Tommy.”

Dream: (chuckles) “Tommy’s exiled. I think, for now...Tommy could end up in it, it just depends...if he does more evil, bad stuff, but...”

(They discuss the Crimson a little, as it had just been discovered that day)

Dream: “Speaking of creepy things...I actually have not ever to this point brought this up, so this is interesting...Do you remember whenever I switched sides? I was helping Pogtopia and I was trying to...mostly just ‘cause I didn’t like L’manburg, and Manberg, and I didn’t like their government, and I switched sides to Schlatt.”

“But the reason I switched sides was because he gave me something in order to switch sides to him, and I mentioned that...”

Bad: “What’d he give you? I remember that! What’d he give you?”

Dream: “He gave me something...very, very, very good. BUT -- that card is always up my sleeves until...until I need it.”

“I won’t go into specifics, but what he gave me was a book.”

Bad: “What kind of book?”

Dream: “The book.”

Bad: “But what kind of book?”

Dream: “A book with massive value.”

Sam: “A book containing what, exactly?”

Sam: “Maybe information? Oh! He gave him--”

Sam and Dream at the same time: “--information.”

Bad: “Information about what?”

Dream: “Mmmm...I think that it puts me in danger if people know I have this information. I can’t clarify what it is, otherwise -- I don’t think -- you wouldn’t -- it wouldn’t be a danger to you, but to other people, that...”

Bad: “Oh...okay. I’m really curious now.”

Dream: “I...we’ll find out.”

Sam: “Wait, so you’re saying...Schlatt traded you information to join his side, which you accepted, so it must’ve been valuable.”

Dream: (chuckles) “I think it’s the most valuable thing on the server!”

...

Dream: “I think that, in pertaining to the prison, it may be important, but -- so maybe I’ll have to tell you guys once the prison’s construction is done, but...we’ll see.”

“I think you wouldn’t believe me if I told you what he gave me.”

---

Now, let’s go over what Dream had been acting like up until the point that he turned.

- He had fought alongside Tommy and Techno in the Battle of the Lake.

- He was willing to trade a disc to get Spirit’s leather back from Skeppy. He still cared about Spirit.

- He claimed that he’d had a change of heart about L’manburg, that Schlatt was worse than Wilbur because he threatened the peace between their nations that had persisted up until that point.

- He supported Quackity during the Election because he figured that Quackity having a cabinet member from Dream SMP and a cabinet member from L’manburg would be an excellent way to maintain a truce between the factions. He did not vote for Schlatt. He said he “endorsed justice.”

He had some sort of humanity to him, some sort of moral compass.

- And, very importantly...

He'd been repeatedly outsmarted by Tommy.

In the Disc War, in the Railway Skirmish, the Spirit Scam? Tommy kept slipping away with leverage against him.

---

So how do these points add up to self-awareness?

Well, let’s go through ‘em!

- Schlatt. That guy in particular.

The only guy to have permanently died twice. Tommy referred to Schlatt’s ban as the first “death” of the server while he was in exile, and it makes sense that Schlatt’s ban would be seen as a canon death - it influenced Tommy’s character arc and was treated like a death in the story.

And when Schlatt came back...well, he was a little bit different, wasn’t he? Somehow, he was always several steps ahead despite being an “idiot.” Time and time again, he kept pulling out the tricks he had up his sleeve. Time and time again, he was more aware than he let on.

Pogtopia never outsmarted him. Ever.

He knew something no one else did.

And now that Dream knows what he knows, notice how he hasn’t been outsmarted by Tommy ever since? Tommy’s tried, but it didn’t work. Now, Dream always seems to be several steps ahead. Always pulling the strings. Always saying the right things.

- It puts Dream in danger if people know, yet doesn’t apply as much to Sam and Bad.

Having self-awareness makes you incredibly powerful. Of course Dream wouldn’t want that information falling into the wrong hands.

But why not Sam and Bad?

Well, what do those two have in common?

Not only are they neutral parties, but they’re both two of the original eight members of the server. They both keep memory of a time before Tommy. Before plot. They’d be shocked to know, sure, but they likely wouldn’t turn on Dream for it. They’ve been here before the Story.

- It’s information. And it’s the most valuable thing on the server.

Think about that for a second. Dream said that the only thing he cares about now are the discs, because they give him power over Tommy.

But this piece of information is somehow more important than those discs. It supersedes them. The discs are the entire plot! And yet this is more important.

Perhaps even the script itself?

- With regards to the prison and its prisoner, Dream kept talking about the future. Someone who’s a threat now or in the future. Sure, Dream’s smart and can plan well, but this is a long, long game plan to have over the course of several weeks.

And what is Pandora’s Vault if not one giant plot point to avoid killing off characters? The prison is meant for a person who Dream can’t kill.

Dream can’t kill off Tommy, because that would end the story.

- It’s so shocking that the other characters wouldn’t believe it if Dream told them. I’d say gaining self-awareness is pretty surprising, right?

---

So, Dream’s lost all care for anything on the server except for the discs. He no longer cares about Spirit, or even his friends, just the discs, because Tommy cares about the discs.

The discs are what keeps Tommy fighting. Now that L’manburg’s gone, it’s the only thing that’s keeping Tommy fighting. He’s willing to die trying to take them back.

I’ve mentioned in previous posts how Dream’s character motivations seem eerily similar to the writers’ motivations in the meta -- to keep the story going, to keep everything entertaining and fun, to make the SMP thrive.

That’s the only thing that seems to keep him going right now. He doesn’t care about anything else. The discs are important because they keep the story going. As long as Tommy keeps fighting for the discs, Dream’s story will never end either.

Tommy wants the endgame, but Dream would never let him get there. Not on his watch.

Because Tommy’s right: Dream is scared of him. Tommy’s the only one who can end the story.

Dream wants the story to keep going. He wants it to keep beginning again and again, and never end.

---

He said this when Wilbur blew up L’manburg, starting the story anew:

“This is the start, Tommy. It may feel like the end, but this is literally just the beginning.”

And now:

“In all destruction, there is a new beginning.”

“Beautiful, you know? The unfinished symphony, right?”

“Tommy? I’m not done with you. Y’know, our story’s not over -- L’manburg’s story is over -- our story’s not over.”

“I don’t think our story will ever be over, Tommy.”

“I think that...you’re just too fun."

And of course...

“...It’s just a game.”

#dream smp #dream smp analysis #long posts #meta #meta theory

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innuendostudios · 3 years

Text

youtube

I was invited to give a talk on GamerGate over Zoom in early 2021. I've long been frustrated that there isn't a good timeline of GG and its origins on YouTube. When people ask "what the hell was GG anyway?" they often get referred to my or Dan Olson's videos on the subject, but both of them were made while GG was ongoing, and presumed a degree of familiarity on the part of the audience. There was just too much to say about what was already happening to spend time getting the audience up to speed, and it was safe to assume our audiences had enough context to follow along. But time moves fast on the internet, and many people who now care about such things weren't there while it was happening, and are lacking the necessary context to follow the better videos. For a long time, I've only been able to direct them to RationalWiki's timeline, which is excellent but so exhaustively comprehensive that it's likely to scare off first-timers.

I realize an hourlong lecture isn't necessarily helping matters, but the first 20-or-so minutes of this video are my attempt at streamlining the timeline such that people can be up to speed on the most important stuff fairly quickly. The rest is talking about what it all meant, how it prefigured the Alt-Right, and using it to better understand digital radicalization.

This video was made with the help of Magdalen Rose, who edited the slides to the audio while I was laid up with a back injury. Go sub to her channel! And please back me on Patreon.

Transcript below the cut.

FUCKING VIDEO GAMES? FUCKING VIDEO GAMES. THEY MADE DOZENS OF PEOPLE MISERABLE FOR YEARS OVER VIDEO GAMES! NOT EVEN FUCKING VIDEO GAMES, FUCKING ARTICLES ABOUT FUCKING VIDEO GAMES. THIS IS WHAT PASSES FOR LEGITIMATE GRIEVANCE. ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS SHIT??

Hi! My name is Ian Danskin. I’m a video essayist and media artist. I run the YouTube channel Innuendo Studios, please like share and subscribe.

I’m here to talk to you about GamerGate, and I needed to get all that out of the way. I’m going to talk about what GamerGate was and how it prefigured The Alt-Right, and there are gonna be moments where you’re nodding along with me, going, “yeah, yeah I get it,” and then the sun’s gonna break through a crack in the wall and you’ll suddenly remember that all this is happening because some folks - mostly ladies - said some stuff - provably true stuff, I might add - about video games and a bunch of guys didn’t like it, and you’re gonna want to rip your hair out. By the end of this, you will have a better understanding of what happened, but it will never not be bullshit.

Also, oh my god, content warning. Racism, sexism, antisemitism, homophobia, transphobia, rape threats, threats of violence, domestic abuse - I’m not going to depict or describe at length any of the worst stuff, but it’s all in the mix. So if at any point you need to switch me off or mute me, you have my blessing.

Brace yourselves.

Some quick prehistory:

In 2012, feminist media critic Anita Sarkeesian ran a Kickstarter campaign for a YouTube series on sexist tropes in video games. And, partway through the campaign, 4chan found it and said “let’s ruin her life.” And a lot of the male general gaming public joined in. And by “ruin her life” I’m not talking 150 angry tweets including dozens of rape and death threats per week, though that was a thing. I’m talking bomb threats. I’m talking canceled speaking engagements because someone threatened to shoot up a school. I’m talking FBI investigation. The harassers faced no meaningful repercussions.

And in 2013, Zoe Quinn released Depression Quest, a free text game about living with depression. They received harassment off and on for the next year, most pointedly from an incel forum called Wizardchan that doxxed their phone number and made harassing phone calls telling them to kill themself. The harassers faced no meaningful repercussions.

(Also, quick note: Zoe Quinn is nonbinary and has come out since the events in question. When I call Zoe’s harassment misogynist, understand I am not calling Zoe a woman, but they were attacked by people who hate women because that’s how they were perceived. Had they been out at the time things probably would’ve gone down similarly, but on top of misogyny I’d be talking about nonbinary erasure and transphobia.)

Okay. Our story begins in August 2014. The August that never ended.

Depression Quest, after a prolonged period on Greenlight, finally releases on Steam as a free download with the option to pay what you want. In the days that follow, Zoe’s ex-boyfriend, Eron Gjoni, writes a nearly 10,000-word blog called The Zoe Post, in which he claims Quinn had been a shitty and unfaithful partner. (For reference, 10,000 words is long enough that the Hugos would consider it a novelette.) This is posted to forums on Penny Arcade and Something Awful, both of which immediately take it down, finding it, at best, a lot of toxic hearsay and, at worse, an invitation to harassment. So Gjoni workshops the post, adds a bunch of edgelord humor (and I am using the word “humor” very generously), and reposts it to three different subforums on 4chan.

We’re not going to litigate whether Zoe Quinn was a good partner. I don’t know or care. I don’t think anyone on this call is trying to date them so I’m not sure that’s our business. What is known is that the relationship lasted five months, and, after it ended, Gjoni began stalking Quinn. Gjoni has, in fact, laid out how he stalked Quinn in meticulous detail to interviewers and why he feels it was justified. It’s also been corroborated by a friend that Quinn briefly considered taking him back at a games conference in San Francisco, but he became violent during sex and Quinn left the apartment in the middle of the night with visible bruises.

Off of the abusive ex-boyfriend’s post, 4chan decides it’s going to make Zoe Quinn one of their next targets, and starts a private IRC channel to plan the campaign. The channel is called #BurgersAndFries, a reference to Gjoni claiming Quinn had cheated on him with five guys. A couple sentences in The Zoe Post - which Gjoni would later claim were a typo - imply that one of the five guys was games journalist Nathan Grayson and that Quinn had slept with him in exchange for a good review of Depression Quest. Given the anger that they’d seen drummed up against women in games with the previous Anita Sarkeesian hate mob, #BurgersAndFries decides to focus on this breach of “ethics in games journalism” as a cover story, many of them howling with laughter at the thought that male gamers would probably buy it. This way, destroying Quinn’s life and career and turning their community against them would appear an unfortunate byproduct of a legitimate consumer revolt; criticism of the harassment could even be framed as a distraction from the bigger issue. Gjoni himself is in the IRC channel telling them that this was the best hand to play.

The stated aim of many on #BurgersAndFries was to convince Quinn to commit suicide.

Two regulars in the IRC, YouTubers MundaneMatt and Internet Aristocrat, make videos about The Zoe Post. Incidentally, both these men had already made a lot of money off videos about Anita Sarkeesian. Matt’s is swiftly taken down with a DMCA claim, and he says that Quinn filed the claim themself. (For the record, in those days, YouTube didn’t tell you who filed DMCA claims against you.) Members of the IRC also reach out to YouTuber TotalBiscuit, who had been critical of Sarkeesian and dismissive of her harassment, and he tweets the story to his 350,000 followers, saying a game developer trading sex for a good review might not prove true, but was certainly plausible.

This is where GamerGate begins to get public traction.

Zoe Quinn is very swiftly doxxed, with their phone number, home address, nudes, and names and numbers of their family collected. Gjoni himself leaks their birth name. The Zoe Post, and the movement against Quinn - now dubbed “The Quinnspiracy” - make it to The Escapist and Reddit, which mods will have little luck removing. The Quinnspiracy declares war on any site that does take their threads down, most vehemently NeoGAF. People who defend Zoe against the harassment start getting doxxed themselves - Fez developer Phil Fish is doxxed so thoroughly, hackers get access to the root folder of his website.

In what I’m going to call This Should Have Been The End, Part 1, Stephen Totilo, Editor-in-Chief at Kotaku where Nathan Grayson worked, in response to pressure not just from The Quinnspiracy but an increasing number of angry gamers buying The Quinnspiracy’s narrative, publishes a story. In it he verifies that Quinn and Grayson did date for several months, and that not only is there no review of Depression Quest anywhere on Kotaku, not by Grayson nor anyone else, but that Grayson did not write a single word about Quinn the entire time they were dating.

In response, The Quinnspiracy declares war on Kotaku. r/KotakuinAction is formed, which will become the primary site of organization outside of chanboards. The fact that their entire “movement” is based on a review that does not exist changes next to nothing.

Some people start to see The Quinnspiracy as potentially profitable. The Fine Young Capitalists get involved, a group ostensibly working to get women into video games but who have a Byzantine plan to do so wherein they crowdfund the budget and the woman who wins a competition gets to storyboard a game, but another company will make and she will get 8% of the profits, the rest going to a charity chosen by the top donor. 4chan becomes the top donor. They like TFYC because the head of the company has a vendetta against Zoe Quinn, who had previously called them out for their transphobic submission policy, and he falsely accused Quinn of having once doxxed him. 4chan feels backing an ostensibly feminist effort will be good PR, but can’t resist selecting a colon cancer charity because, they say, feminism is cancer and they want to be the cure to butthurt. They also get to design a character for the game, and so they create Vivian James, who will become the GamerGate mascot.

Manosphere YouTubers Jordan Owen and Davis Aurini launch a Patreon campaign for their antifeminist documentary The Sarkeesian Effect and come to The Quinnspiracy looking for $15,000 a month for an indefinite period to make it, which they get.

In what will prove genuinely awful timing, Anita Sarkeesian releases the second episode of Tropes vs. Women in Video Games, and, despite not being a games journalist and having nothing to do with Quinn or Grayson, she is immediately roped into the narrative about how feminists are ruining games culture and becomes the second major target of harassment. Both she and Quinn soon have to leave their houses after having receiving dozens and dozens of death threats that include their home addresses.

After being courted by members of the IRC channel, Firefly star Adam Baldwin tweets a link to one of the Quinnspiracy videos and coins the hashtag #GamerGate. This is swiftly adopted by all involved.

In response to all this, Leigh Alexander writes a piece for Gamasutra arguing that the identity that these men are flocking to the “ethics in games journalism” narrative to defend no longer matters as a marketing demographic. Gaming and games culture is so large and so varied, and the “core gamer” audience of 18-34 white bros growing smaller and septic, that there was no reason, neither morally nor financially, to treat them as the primary audience anymore. Love of gaming is eternal, but, she declared, “gamers,” as an identity, “are over.” Eight more articles contextualizing GamerGate alongside misogyny and the gatekeeping of games culture come out across several websites in the following days. GamerGate frames these as a clear sign of [deep sigh] collusion to oppress gamers, proving that ethics in games journalism is, indeed, broken, and Leigh Alexander becomes the third major target of harassment. These become known as the “gamers are dead” articles - a phrase not one of them uses - and they make “get Leigh Alexander fired from Gamasutra” one of their primary goals.

Something I need you to understand is that it has, at this point, been two weeks.

Highlights from the next little bit: Alex Macris, a higher up at The Escapist’s parent company, expresses support for GamerGate; he will go on to write the first positive coverage at a major publication and cement The Escapist as GamerGate-friendly. Mike Cernovich, aka “Based Lawyer,” gets GamerGate’s attention by mocking Anita Sarkeesian; he will go on to hire a private investigator to stalk Zoe Quinn. GamerGate launches Operation Disrespectful Nod, an email campaign pressuring companies to pull advertising from websites that have criticized them. They leverage their POC members, getting them, any time someone points out the rampant racism and antisemitism among GamerGaters, to say “I am a person of color and I am #NotYourShield”; most of these “POC members” are fake accounts left over from a previous, racist disinformation campaign. Milo Yiannapoulos gets involved, writing positive coverage of GG despite having mocked gamers for precisely this behavior in the past, and gets so much traffic it pulls Breitbart News out of obscurity and makes it a significant player in modern conservative news media.

[Hey! Ian from the future here. This talk mostly addresses how GamerGate prefigured the Alt-Right strategically and philosophically, but if you want a more explicit, material connection: Breitbart News took its newfound notoriety to become, as its Executive Chair phrased it in 2016, "a platform for the Alt-Right." That Executive Chair was Steve Bannon, who threw the website's weight behind The Future President Who Shall Not Be Named, and, upon getting his attention, would then go on to become his campaign strategist and work in his Administration. So, if you're wondering how one of the central figures of the Alt-Right ended up in the White House, the answer is literally "GamerGate." Back to you, Ian from the past!]

In what I’m calling This Should Have Been The End, Part 2, Zoe Quinn announces that they have been lurking the #BurgersAndFries IRC channel since the beginning and releases dozens of screenshots showing harassment being planned and the selection of “ethics in games journalism” as a cover. #BurgersAndFries has a meltdown, everyone turns on each other, and the channel is abandoned. And they then start another IRC and things proceed.

It goes on like this. I’m not gonna cover everything. This is just the first month. It should be clear by now that this thing is kind of unkillable. And I worry I haven’t made it obvious that this is not just a chanboard and an IRC. Thousands of regular, every day gamers were buying the story and joining in. They were angry, and no amount of evidence that their anger was unfounded was going to change that. You could not mention or even allude to GamerGate and not get flooded with dozens, even hundreds of furious replies. These replies always included the hashtag so everyone monitoring it could join in, so all attempts at real conversation devolved into a hundred forking threads where some people expected you to talk to them while others hurled insults and slurs. And always the possibility that, if any one of them didn’t like what you said, you’d be the next target.

To combat this, some progressives offered up the hashtag #GameEthics to the people getting swept up in GamerGate, saying, “look, we get that you’re angry, and if you want to talk about ethics in games journalism, we can totally do that, but using your hashtag is literally putting us in danger; they calling the police on people saying there’s a hostage situation at their home addresses so they get sent armed SWAT teams, and if you’ll just use this other hashtag we can have the conversation you say you want to have in safety.” And I will ever stop being salty about what happened.

They refused. They wouldn’t cede any ground to what they saw as their opposition. It was so important to have the conversation on their terms that not only did they refuse to use #GameEthics, they spammed it with furry porn so no one could use it.

A few major events on the timeline before we move on: Christina Hoff Sommers, the Republican Party’s resident “feminist,” comes out criticizing Anita Sarkeesian and becomes a major GG figurehead, earning the title Based Mom. Zoe Quinn gets a restraining order against Eron Gjoni, which he repeatedly violates, to no consequence; GG will later crowdfund his legal fees. There’s this listserv called GameJournoPros where game journalists would talk about their jobs, and many are discussing their concerns over GamerGate, so Milo Yiannopoulos leaks it and this is framed as further “proof of collusion.” 4chan finally starts enforcing its “no dox” rules and shuts GamerGate threads down, so they migrate to 8chan, a site famous for hosting like a lot of child porn. Indie game developer Brianna Wu makes a passing joke about GamerGate on Twitter and they decide, seemingly on a whim, to make her one of the biggest targets in the entire movement; she soon has to leave her home as well. GamerGate gets endorsements from WikiLeaks, Infowars, white nationalist sites Stormfront and The Daily Stormer, and professional rapist RooshV. And hundreds of people get doxxed; an 8chan subforum called Baphomet is created primarily to host dox of GamerGate’s critics.

But by November, GamerGate popularity was cresting, as more and more mainstream media covered it negatively. Their last, big spike in popularity came when Anita Sarkeesian went on The Colbert Report and Stephen made fun of the movement. Their numbers never recovered after that.

Which is not to say GamerGate ended. It slowed down. The period of confusion where the mainstream world couldn’t tell whether it was a legitimate movement or not passed. But, again, most harassers faced no meaningful repercussions. Gamers who bought the lie about “ethics in games journalism” stayed mad that no one had ever taken them seriously, and harassers continued to grief their targets for years. The full timeline of GamerGate is an constant cycle of lies, harassment, operations, grift, and doxxing. Dead-enders are to this day still using the hashtag. And remember how Anita had nothing to do with ethics in games journalism or Zoe Quinn, and they just roped her in because they’d enjoyed harassing her before so why not? Every one of GamerGate’s targets knows that they may get dragged into some future harassment campaign just because. It’s already happened to several of them. They’re marked.

(sigh) Let’s take a breath.

Now that we know what GamerGate was, let’s talk about why it worked.

In the thick of GamerGate, I started compiling a list of tactics I saw them using. I wanted to make a video essay that was one part discussion of antifeminist backlash, and one part list of techniques these people use so we can better recognize and anticipate their behavior. That first part became six parts and the second part went on a back burner. It would eventually become my series, The Alt-Right Playbook. GamerGate is illustrative because most of what would become The Alt-Right Playbook was in use.

Two foundational principles of The Alt-Right Playbook are Control the Conversation and Never Play Defense. Make sure people are talking about what you want them to talk about, and take an aggressive posture so you look dominant even when you’re not making sense. For instance: once Zoe leaked the IRC chatlogs, a reasonable person could tell the average gater, “the originators of GamerGate were planning harassment from the very beginning.” But the gater would say, “you’re cherry-picking; not everyone was a harasser.”

Now, this is a bad argument - that’s not how you use “cherry-picking” - and it’s being framed as an accusation - you’re not just wrong, you’re dishonest - which makes you wanna defend yourself. But, if you do - if you tell them why that argument is crap - you’ve let the conversation move from “did the IRC plan harassment?” - a question of fact - to “are the harassers representative of the movement?” - a question of ethics. Like, yes, they are, but only within a certain moral framework. An ethics question has no provable answer, especially if people are willing to make a lot of terrible arguments. It is their goal to move any question with a definitive answer to a question of philosophy, to turn an argument they can’t win into an argument nobody can win.

The trick is to treat the question you asked like it’s already been answered and bait you into addressing the next question. By arguing about whether you’re cherry-picking, you’re accepting the premise that whether you’re cherry-picking is even relevant. Any time this happens, it’s good to pause and ask, “what did we just skip over?” Because that will tell you a lot.

What you skipped over is their admission that, yes, the IRC did plan harassment, but that’s only on them if most of the movement was in on it. Which is a load of crap - the rest of the IRC saw it happening, let it happen, it’s not like anybody warned Zoe, and shit, I’m having the cherry-picking argument! They got me! You see how tempting it is? But presumably the reason you brought the harassment up is because you want them to do something about it. At the very least, leave the movement, but ideally try and stop it. They don’t, strictly speaking, need to feel personally responsible to do that. And you might be thinking, well, maybe if I can get them take responsibility then they’ll do something, but you’d be falling for a different technique I call I Hate Mondays.

This is where people will acknowledge a terrible thing is happening, maybe even agree it’s bad, but they don’t believe anything can be done about it. They also don’t believe you believe anything can be done about it. Mondays suck, but they come around every week. This is never stated outright, but it’s why you’re arguing past each other. To them, the only reason to talk about the bad thing is to assign blame. Whose turn is it to get shit on for the unsolvable problem? Their argument about cherry-picking amounts to “1-2-3 not it.” And they are furious with you for trying to make them responsible for harassment they didn’t participate in.

The unspoken argument is that harassment is part of being on the internet. Every public figure deals with it. This ignores any concept of scale - why does one person get harassed more than another? - but you can’t argue with someone who views it as a binary: harassment either happens or it doesn’t, and, if it does, it’s a fact of life, and, if it happens to everyone, it’s not gendered. And this is not a strongly-held belief they’ve come to after years of soul-searching - this is what they’ve just decided they believe. They want to participate in GamerGate despite knowing its purpose, and this is what would need to be true for that to be ok.

Or maybe they’re just fucking with you! Maybe you can’t tell. Maybe they can’t tell, either. I call this one The Card Says Moops, where people say whatever they feel will score points in an argument and are so irony-poisoned they have no idea whether they actually believe it. A very useful trick if the thing you appear to believe is unconscionable. You can’t take what people like that say at face value; you can only intuit their beliefs from their actions. They say they believe this one minute and that another, but their behavior is always in accordance with that, not this.

In the negative space, their belief is, “The harassment of these women is okay. My anger about video games is more important. I may not be harassing them myself, but they do kind of deserve it.” They will never say this out loud in a serious conversation, though many will say it in an anonymous or irreverent space where they can later deny they meant it. But, whatever they say they believe, this is the worldview they are operating under.

Obscuring this means flipping through a lot of contradictory arguments. The harassment is being faked, or it’s not being faked but it’s being exaggerated, or it’s not being exaggerated but the target is provoking it to get attention, which means GamerGate harassers simultaneously don’t exist, exist in small numbers, and exist in such large numbers someone can build a career out of relying on them! It can be kind of fun to take all these arguments made in isolation and try to string together an actual position. Like, GamerGate would argue that Nathan Grayson having previously mentioned Zoe Quinn in an article about a canceled reality show counts as positive coverage, and since Grayson reached out to Quinn for comment it’s reasonable to assume they started dating before the article was published (which is earlier than they claim), and positive coverage did lead to greater popularity for Depression Quest. But if you untangle that, it’s like… okay, you’re saying Zoe Quinn slept with a journalist in exchange for four nonconsecutive sentences that said no more than “Zoe Quinn exists and made a game,” and the price of those four sentences was to date the journalist for months, all to get rich off a game that didn’t cost any money. That’s your movement?

And some, if cornered, would say, “yes, we believe women are just that shitty, that one would fuck a guy for months if it made them the tiniest bit more famous.” But they won’t lead with that. Because they know it won’t convince the normies, even the ones who want to be convinced. So they use a process I call The Ship of Theseus to, piece by piece, turn that sentence into “slept with a journalist in exchange for a good review” and argue that each part of the sentence is technically accurate. It’s trying to lie without lying. And, provided all the pieces of this sentence are discussed separately, and only in the context of how they justify this sentence, you can trick yourself into believing this sentence is mostly true.

So, like, why? This is clearly motivated reasoning; what’s the motivation? What was this going to accomplish?

The answer is nothing. Nothing, by design. GamerGate’s “official” channels - the subreddit and the handful of forums that didn’t shut them down - were rigidly opposed to any action more organized than an email campaign. They had a tiny handful of tangible demands - they wanted gaming websites to post public ethics policies and had a list of people they wanted fired - but their larger aim was the sea change in how games journalism operated, which nothing they were asking for could possibly give them. The kind of anger that convinces you this is a true statement is not going to be addressed by a few paragraphs about ethics and Leigh Alexander getting a new job. They wanted gaming sites to stop catering to women and “SJWs” - who were a sizable and growing source of traffic - and to get out of the pockets of companies that advertised on their websites - which was their primary source of income. So all Kotaku had to do to make them happy was solve capitalism!

Meanwhile, the unofficial channels, like 8chan and Baphomet, were planning op after op to get private information, spread lies with fake accounts, get disinformation trending, make people quit jobs, cancel gigs, and flee their homes. Concrete goals with clear results. All you had to do to feel productive was go rogue. In my video,

How to Radicalize a Normie, I describe how the Alt-Right encourages lone wolf behavior by whipping people up into a rage and then refusing to give them anything to do, while surrounding them with examples of people taking matters into their own hands. The same mechanism is in play here: the public-facing channels don’t condone harassment but also refuse to fight it, the private channels commit it under cover of anonymity, and there is a free flow of traffic between them for when the official channels’ impotence becomes unbearable.

What I hope I’m illustrating is how these techniques play off of each other, how they create a closed ecosystem that rational thought cannot enter. There’s a phrase we use on the internet that got thrown around a lot at the time:

you can’t logic someone out of a position they didn’t logic themselves into.

Now, there are a few other big topics I think are relevant here, so I want to go through them one by one.

MEMEIFICATION

So a lot of interactions with GamerGate would involve a very insular knowledge base.

Like, you’d say something benign but progressive on Twitter.

A gater would show up in your mentions and say something aggressive and false.

You’d correct them. But then they’d come back and hit you with -

ah shit, sorry, this is a Loss meme.

If I were in front of a classroom I’d ask, show of hands, how many of you got that? I had to ask Twitter recently, does Gen Z know about Loss?!

If you don’t know what Loss is I’m not sure I can explain it to you. It’s this old, bad webcomic that was parodied so, so, so many times

that it was reduced to its barest essentials, to the point where any four panels with shapes in this arrangement is a Loss meme. For those of you in the know, you will recognize this anywhere, but have you ever tried to explain to someone who wasn’t in the know why this is really fuckin’ funny?

So, now… by the same process that this is a comics joke,

this is a rape joke.

I’m not gonna show the original image, but, once upon a time, someone made an animated GIF of the character Piccolo from Dragon Ball Z graphically raping Vegeta. 4chan loved it so much that it got posted daily, became known as the “daily dose,” until mods started deleting every incident of it. So they uploaded slightly edited version of it. Then they started uploading other images that had been edited with Piccolo’s color scheme. It got so abstracted that eventually any collection of purple and green pixels would be recognized as Piccolo Dick.

Apropos of nothing, GamerGate is a movement that insists it is not sexist in nature and it does not condone threats of rape against the women they don’t like. And this is their logo. This is their mascot.

If you’re familiar with the Daily Dose, the idea that GamerGate would never support Eron Gjoni if they believed he was a sexual abuser is so blatantly insincere it’s insulting… but imagine trying to explain to someone who’s not on 4chan how this sweater is a rape joke. Imagine having to explain it to a journalist. Imagine having to explain it to the judge enforcing your abuser’s restraining order.

Reactionaries use meme culture not just because they’re terminally online but also because it makes their behavior seem either benign or just confusing to outsiders. They find it hilarious that they can be really explicit and still fly under the radar. The Alt-Right did this with Pepe the Frog, the OK sign, even the milk glass emoji for a hot minute. The more inexplicable the meme, the better. You get the point where Stephen Miller is flashing Nazi signs from the White House and the Presidential re-eletion campaign is releasing 88 ads of exactly 14 words and there’s still a debate about whether the administration is racist. Because journalists aren’t going to get their heads around that. You tell them “1488 is a Nazi number,” it’s gonna seem a lot more plausible that you’re making shit up.

MOVE FAST AND BREAK THINGS

Online movements like GamerGate move at a speed and mutation rate too high for the mainstream world to keep up. And not just that they don’t understand the memes - they don’t understand the infrastructure.

In an attempt to cover GamerGate evenhandedly, George Wiedman of Super Bunnyhop interviewed a lawyer who specializes in journalistic ethics. He meant well; I really wish he hadn’t. You can see him trying to fit something like GamerGate into terms this silver-haired man who works in copyright law can understand. At one point he asks if it’s okay to fund the creative project of a potential journalistic source, to which the guy understandably says “no.”

What he’s alluding to here is the harassment of Jenn Frank. A few weeks into GamerGate, Jenn Frank writes a piece in The Guardian about sexism in tech that mentions Anita Sarkeesian and Zoe Quinn. In another case of “here’s a strongly-held belief I just decided I have,” GamerGate says this is a breach of journalistic ethics because Frank backs Quinn on Patreon. They harass her so intensely she not only has to quit her job at The Guardian, for several months she quits journalism entirely.

Off the bat, calling a public figure central to a major event in the field a “journalistic source” is flatly wrong-headed. Quinn was not interviewed or even contacted for the article, they were in no way a “source”; they were a subject. But I want to talk about this phrase, “fund a creative project.” Patreon is functionally a subscription; it’s a way of buying things. It’s technically accurate that Frank is funding Quinn’s creative project, but only in the sense that you are funding Bob Dylan’s creative project if you listen to his music. And saying Frank therefore can’t write about Quinn is like saying a music journalist can’t cover a Bob Dylan concert if they’ve ever bought his albums.

And we could talk about the ways that Patreon, as compared with other funding models, can create a greater sense of intimacy, and we also could comment that, well, that’s how an increasing number of people consume media now, so that perspective should be present in journalism. But maybe it means we should cover that perspective differently? I don’t know. It’s an interesting subject. But none of that’s going on in this conversation because this guy doesn’t know what Patreon is. It was only a year old at this point. Patreon’s been a primary source of my income for 5 years and my parents still don’t know what it is. (I think they think I’m a freelancer?) This guy hears “funding a creative project” and he’s thinking an investor, someone who makes a profit off the source’s success.

The language of straight society hasn’t caught up with what’s happening, and that works in GamerGate’s favor.

In the years since GamerGate we have dozens of stories of people trying to explain Twitter harassment to a legal system that’s never heard of Twitter. People trying to explain death threats to cops whose only relationship to the internet is checking email, confusedly asking, “Why don’t you just not go online?” Like, yeah, release your text game about depression at GameStop for the PS3 and get it reviewed in the Boston Globe, problem solved.

You see this in the slowness of mainstream journalists to condemn the harassment - hell, even games journalists at first. Because what if it is a legitimate movement? What if the harassers are just a fringe element? What if there was misconduct? The people in a position to stop GamerGate don’t have to be convinced of their legitimacy, they just have to hesitate. They just have to be unsure. Remember how much happened in just the first two weeks, how it took only a month to become unkillable.

It’s the same hesitance that makes mainstream media, online platforms, and law enforcement underestimate The Alt-Right. They’re terrified of condemning a group as white nationalist terrorists because they’re confused, and what if they’re wrong? Or, in most cases, not even afraid they’re wrong, but afraid of the PR disaster if too much of the world thinks they’re wrong.

ACCOUNTABILITY AND CONTROL

A thing I’ve talked about in The Alt-Right Playbook is how these decentralized, ostensibly leaderless movements insulate themselves from responsibility. Harassment is never the movement’s fault because they never told anyone to harass and you can’t prove the harassers are legitimate members of the movement. The Alt-Right does this too - one of their catchphrases is “I disavow.” Since there are no formalized rules for membership, they can redraw boundaries on the fly; they can take credit for any successes and deny responsibility for any wrongdoing. Public membership is granted or revoked based on a person’s moment-to-moment utility.

It’s almost like… they’re cherry-picking.

The flipside of this is a lack of control. Since they never officially tell anyone to do anything but write emails, they have no means of stopping anyone from behaving counterproductively. The harassment of Jenn Frank was the first time GamerGate’s originators thought, “maybe we should ease off just to avoid bad publicity,” and they found they couldn’t. GamerGate had gotten too big, and too many people were clearly there for precisely this reason.

They also couldn’t control the infighting. When your goal is to harass women and you have all these contradictory justifications for why, you end up with a lot of competing beliefs. And, you know what? Angry white men who like harassing people don’t form healthy relationships! Several prominent members of GamerGate - including Internet Aristocrat - got driven out by factionalism; they were doxxed by their own people! Jordan Owen and Davis Aurini parted ways hating each other, with Aurini releasing chatlogs of him gaslighting Owen about accepting an endorsement from Roosh, and they released two competing edits of The Sarkeesian Effect.

I say this because it’s useful to know that these are alliances of convenience. If you know where the sore spots are, you can apply pressure to them.

LEADERS WITHOUT LEADERSHIP

One way movements like GamerGate deflect responsibility is by declaring, “We are a leaderless movement! We have no means to stop harassment.”

Which… any anarchist will tell you collective action is entirely possible without leaders. But they’ll also tell you, absent a system of distributing power equitably, you’re gonna have leaders, just not ones you elected.

A few months into GamerGate, Randi Lee Harper created the ggautoblocker. Here’s what it did: it took five prominent GamerGate figures - Adam Baldwin, Mike Cernovich, Christina Hoff Sommers, Milo Yiannopoulos, and Nick Monroe, formerly known as [sigh] PressFartToContinue - and generated a block list of everyone who followed at least two of them on Twitter. Now, this became something of an arms race; once GamerGate found out about it they made secondary accounts that followed different people, and more and more prominent figures appeared and had to get added to the list. But, when it first launched, the list generated from just these five people comprised an estimated 90-95% of GamerGate.

Hate to break it to you, guys, but if 90+ percent of your movement is following at least two of the same five people, those are your leaders. The attention economy has produced them. Power pools when left on its own.

This is another case where you have to ignore what people claim and look at what they do. The Alt-Right loves to say “we disavow Richard Spencer” and “Andrew Anglin doesn’t speak for us.”

But no matter what they say, pay attention to whom they’re taking cues from.

AD CAMPAIGN

George Lakoff has observed that one way the Left fails in opposition to the Right is that most liberal politicians and campaigners have degrees in things like law and political science, where conservative campaigners more often have degrees in advertising and communications. Liberals and leftists may have a better product to sell, but conservatives know how to sell products.

GamerGate less resembles a boots-on-the-ground political movement than an ad campaign. First they decide what their messaging strategy is going to be. Then the media arm starts publicizing it. They seek out celebrity endorsements. They get their own hashtag and mascot. They donate to charity and literally call it “public relations.” You can even see the move from The Quinnspiracy to GamerGate as a rebranding effort - when one name got too closely associated with harassment, they started insisting GamerGate was an entirely separate movement from The Quinnspiracy. I learned that trick from Stringer Bell’s economics class.

Now, we could stand to learn a thing or two from this. But I also wouldn’t want us to adopt this strategy whole hog; you should view moves like these as red flags. If you’re hesitating to condemn a movement because what if it’s legitimate, take a look at whether they’re selling ideology like it’s Pepsi.

PERCEPTION IS EVERYTHING

One reason to insist you’re a consumer revolt rather than a harassment campaign is most people who want to harass need someone to give them permission, and need someone to tell them it’s normal.

Bob Altemeyer has this survey he uses to study authoritarianism. He divides respondents into people with low, average, and high authoritarian sentiments, and then tells them what the survey has measured and asks, “what score do you think is best to have: low, average, or high?”

People with low authoritarian sentiments say it’s best to be low. People with average authoritarian sentiments also say it’s best to be low. But people with high authoritarian sentiments? They say it’s best to be average. Altemeyer finds, across all his research, that reactionaries want to aggress, but only if it is socially acceptable. They want to know they are the in-group and be told who the out-group is. They don’t particularly care who the out-group is, Altemeyer finds they’ll aggress against any group an authority figure points to, even, if they don’t notice it, a group that contains them. They just have to believe the in-group is the norm.

This is why they have to believe games journalism is corrupt because of a handful of feminist media critics with outsized influence. Legitimate failures of journalism cannot be systemic problems rooted in how digital media is funded and consumed; there cannot be a legitimate market for social justice-y media. It has to be manipulation by the few. Because, if these things are common, then, even if you don’t like them, they’re normal. They’re part of the in-group. Reactionary politics is rebellion against things they dislike getting normalized, because they know, if they are normalized, they will have to accept them. Because the thing they care about most is being normal.

This is why the echo chamber, this is why Fox News, this is why the Far Right insists they are the “silent majority.” This is why they artificially inflate their numbers. This is why they insist facts are “biased.” They have to maintain the image that what are, in material terms, fringe beliefs are, in fact, held by the majority. This is why getting mocked by Stephen Colbert was such a blow to GamerGate. It makes it harder to believe the world at large agrees with them.

This is why, if you’re trying to change the world for the better, it’s pointless to ask their permission. Because, if you change the world around them, they will adapt even faster than you will.

THE ARGUMENT ISN’T SUPPOSED TO END

Casey Explosion has this really great Twitter thread comparing the Alt-Right to Scary Terry from Rick and Morty. His catchphrase is “you can run but you can’t hide, bitch.” And Rick and Morty finally escape him by hiding. And Morty’s all, “but he said we can’t hide,” and Rick is like, “why are we taking his word on this? if we could hide, he certainly wouldn’t tell us.”

The reason to argue with a GamerGater is on the implied agreement that, if you can convince them they’re part of a hate mob, they will leave. But look at the incentives here: they want to be in GamerGate, and you want them not to be. But they’re already in GamerGate. They’re not waiting on the outcome of this argument to participate. They’ve already got what they want; they don’t need to convince you GamerGate isn’t a hate mob.

This is why all their logic and rationalizations are shit, because they don’t need to be good. They’re not trying to win an argument. They’re trying to keep the argument going.

This has been a precept of conservative political strategy for decades. “You haven’t convinced us climate change is real and man-made, you need to do more studies.” They’re not pausing the use of fossil fuels until the results come in. “You haven’t convinced us there are no WMDs in Iraq, you need to collect more evidence.” They’re not suspending the war until you get back to them. “You haven’t convinced us that Reaganomic tax policy causes recessions, let’s just do it for another forty years and see what happens.” And when the proof comes in, they send us out for more, and we keep going.

The biggest indicator you can’t win a debate with a reactionary is they keep telling you you can. The biggest indicator protest and deplatforming works is they keep telling you in plays into their hands. The biggest indicator that you shouldn’t compromise with Republicans is they keep saying doing otherwise is stooping to their level. They’re not going to walk into the room and say, “Hi, my one weakness is reasoned argument, let’s pick a time and place to hash this out.”

And we fall for it because we’re trying to be decent people. Because we want to believe the truth always wins. We want to bargain in good faith, and they are weaponizing our good faith against us. Always dangling the carrot that the reason they’re like this is no one’s given them the right argument not to be. It’s all just a misunderstanding, and, really, it’s on us for not trying hard enough.

But they have no motivation to agree with us. Most of the people asking for debates have staked their careers on disagreeing with us. Conceding any point to the Left could cost them their livelihood.

WHY GAMES?

Let’s close with the big question: why games? And, honestly, the short answer is:

why not games?

Games culture has always presented itself as a hobby for young, white, middle class boys. It’s always been bigger and more diverse than that, but that’s how it was marketed, and that’s who most felt they belonged. As gaming grows bigger, there is suddenly room for those marginal voices that have always been there to make themselves heard. And, as gaming becomes more mainstream, it’s having its first brushes with serious critical analysis.

This makes the people who have long felt gaming was theirs and theirs alone anxious and a little angry. They’ve invested a lot of their identity in it and they don’t want it to change.

And what the Far Right sees in a sizable collection of aggrieved young men is an untapped market. This is why sites like Stormfront and Breitbart flocked to them. These are not liberals they have to convert, these people are, up til now, not politically engaged. The Right can be their first entry to politics.

The world was changing. Nerd properties were exploding into popular culture in tandem with media representation diversifying. And we were living with the first Black President. Any time an out-group looks like it might join the in-group, there is a self-protective backlash from the existing in-group. This had been brewing for a while, and, honestly, if it hadn’t boiled over in games, it would have boiled over somewhere else.

And, in the years since GamerGate, it has. The Far Right has tapped the comics, Star Wars, and sci-fi fandoms; they tried to get in with the furry community but failed spectacularly. They’re all over YouTube and, frankly, the atheist community was already in their pocket. Basically, if you’re in community with a bunch of young white guys who think they own the place, you might wanna have some talks with them sooner than later.

Anyway, if you want to know more about any of this stuff, RationalWiki’s timeline on GamerGate is pretty thorough. You can also watch my or Dan Olson’s videos on the subject. I’ll be putting the audio of this talk on YouTube and will put as many resources as I can in the show notes. The channel, again, is Innuendo Studios.

Sorry this was such a bummer.

Thank you for your time.

#video essay #alt-right playbook #Youtube

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Text

A Well Rounded Education (4): Equality Statement (Fem!Reader x Naoya Zenin, 7.5k)

series synopsis: you are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. gojo, unfortunately, does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: you make the mistake of crossing naoya zenin at a sports festival and are forced to apologise. but as you well know by now, nothing ever seems to go to plan where any of your student’s fathers are concerned.

NSFW. MINORS DNI. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. misogyny, weird power dynamics, hate-sex, piv sex, blowjobs. naoya.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation) ♡ (jujutsu kaisen masterlist)

The Saturday morning that your first ever undokai is scheduled for dawns bright and early, and you can’t help the little thrill that goes through you at the golden fingers of dawn lighting up your room. There’d been talk of the weekend bringing rain, and things needing to be rescheduled – but it’s perfect weather, as you put on a comfortable tank top and shorts instead of your neat pencil skirt and suit jacket combination.

This will be your first event of the kind, and you’re excited about it. The kids in the class have been practising all of their cheers and routines and the like constantly, whilst the ones involved in the competitive sports have been cheering one another on and snatching time when they can to race against one another in preparation. It’s been nice to see all of the camaraderie between them – even some of the quieter ones have seemed to come a little bit out of their shell, with so much team spirit in the air.

Well. Most of them have. You’ve noticed Junpei still hanging back, face sad, uncomfortable when other boys crowd him and tug him off to who knows where – probably to get him involved in their own practises or rehearsals.

It’s been long and hard preparing for it, but even Gojo has been focused on something for once.

“There’s just something about events like this!” Gojo chirped to you, once, as he’d held up a megaphone he did not really need and called his class back into formation in front of him. “You know! The joy of youth! I want them to have the best time possible! They deserve it.”

Seeing Gojo’s mischievous eyes sparkle with determination instead of humour had made you smile at him, and you’d felt a strange pull in your chest when he’d smiled back, needing to pull your gaze away to ask Yuuji to stop poking Megumi in the back to get him to look at a weird caterpillar he’d found on the ground.

As a junior high undokai, things are a little more competitive than they might be if this were an elementary school or even a middle school event, but there’s still a big emphasis on the teamwork and the cheering on portion of the day. You’ve watched and applauded what feels like a hundred practises for the cheering section, confiscating whistles when they’re sneakily blown whilst you’re trying to teach a mathematics lesson.

Still, you’re not surprised to see that Gojo’s class have been corralled into his classroom whilst your vivacious teacher and mentor gives them a rallying encouragement that seems to contain a lot of bigging up the fact that they are, in fact, his class.

“I thought the pep talk was for them,” you say, as heads turn to you when you walk into the room. It’s strange to see all of the faces dressed in their gym uniforms instead of their school uniforms – and it’s even stranger to be wearing an approximation of it yourself.

“You look nice!” Yuji pipes up, and you smile at him.

“It is for them,” Gojo brings a hand to his sunglasses to push them down a little, giving you a charming smile and the full force of the galaxies swirling in his eyes. “I’m just reminding them that as Satoru Gojo’s class, of course they’re going to do well! We’re going to be the strongest, and win!” He looks at all of them – bright shining faces turned to him, all lit up with the excitement of competition. There’s something in him that you rarely see right now – something encouraging and bright and compassionate. He genuinely seems to want them to do well. “I believe in all of you!”

The warmth spreading through your chest at Gojo’s words is a new experience. You’re far more used to exasperation and frustration where he’s concerned.

But now, you can’t help the infectious smiles of the children and the determination in their face to do well enough for everyone to be proud of. Maybe Gojo isn’t so bad after all, you think, as he bids the children in the class farewell and tells them to go and join everyone else outside in preparation for the day’s events.

“What d’you think?” He asks you, as Junpei leaves the room, still dragging his feet a little. You can’t blame him. He’s involved in the cheering section, as so many of the less athletic kids are, but the undokai is not optional and you think that Junpei is the kind of boy who hates being looked at. “Are we gonna win?”

“I don’t think that’s quite the point of the exercise,” you say, eventually. “We’re supposed to be fostering team spirit and co-operation--”

“Yeah,” Gojo wrinkles his nose and grins. “But we’re still gonna win, right?”

You sigh.

“With Yuji and Maki? Probably. But that’s not the point!”

Gojo stands up and stretches his arms out above him. He’s in a shirt that clings tight to a surprisingly muscled abdomen, and dark grey sweatpants. He’s never been the ‘formal wear’ kind of teacher, but it’s still jarring to see him dressed so casually – and even more jarring to realise that he’s handsome, despite the fact you’ve spent most of the last few months rolling your eyes and sighing and cursing the world that you’ve ended up having to endure Satoru Gojo so much.

“I know, I know – but it’s nice to think about, right?” His grin is infectious. “Did you have time to have breakfast this morning? I know it’s an earlier start than usual, I’ve got a spare blueberry muffin in my bag – hope it didn’t get crushed too badly by my stretches--”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, already dreading the idea of him pressing a crumbled muffin into your hand. “I had a healthy, nutritious breakfast.”

“So did I!” He says, hotly. “The blueberry muffin had fruit in it, croissants are glazed with egg so that’s protein, and I had a slice of honey on toast too just because I felt like I’d have to keep my energy up today--”

You are constantly impressed by how he manages to consume all of this sugar without going into overdrive – then again, maybe that does explain a lot about him.

“I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing today,” you admit to him. “I mean, I know I’m here to cheer on the kids and stuff, but I don’t know what my role’s supposed to be--”

“Oh!” He comes around and begins to walk out of the classroom, beckoning you to follow him. “Didn’t I tell you? They told me ages ago--” He did not tell you. You don’t know why you find this a surprise. “You’re gonna be in charge of the refreshments table for the first half of the morning – Yuta, you know, the other teacher’s aid, he’ll relieve you for the second half so you can cheer us on and help me a bit. Not that I’ll need it! It’s not a hard job, just be polite to anyone who needs to use it, most of ‘em bring their own lunches and snacks but we find that it’s always good to have a table with some extras – especially when it’s so hot outside!”

“You didn’t,” you say, but you follow him anyway. You have learnt by now that the most you’ll get from Gojo is a shrug and an airy ‘sorry’. And you suppose, in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t so bad. It’s not like you needed to have time to stop and prepare yourself to give people a polite smile and ask them if they’d like you to pour them a glass of water.

The two of you spill out into the grounds of the school, which is already full of excited students and proud parents. You recognise a few of them – your face heats up as you see Nanami forcibly pressing a bottle of sunscreen into Yuji’s hands, and as the two of you walk past Geto who is tying back Mimiko and Nanako’s hair, ensuring the team hats that the students are all wearing sit neatly on their heads.

There’s a man stood with Maki and Mai who you assume is their father; a blond with a sneering face and a presence that makes you feel like you shouldn’t even be looking at him. Maki has her arms crossed, her chin jutting forward – the two of them are clearly involved in some kind of argument. Even as you watch, some other men are walking towards him with their heads bowed, like he’s something special.

You vaguely recall that you’ve heard some tell about the Zenins being a very rich, very old, very respected family. Judging from the way he carries himself and the way people keep looking at him, you think that must be it.

“Is that Maki and Mai’s dad?” You ask, curiously, as you’re pushed past him towards a collection of tables beneath a bright yellow awning. Gojo makes a noise that sounds like a sigh.

“Yep,” he says, sounding short. There’s some kind of history there, you think. “That’s Naoya Zenin. Better for you to avoid him, if you can – he’s not the kind of guy you want to cross, y’know?”

“But Maki’s--”

“Absolutely nothing like him,” Gojo deposits you in front of a table heaped with water jugs, ice cubes and plastic cups. “Really.”

You wrinkle your nose as you look around. At least everyone else seems happy – excited, buzzing with energy and the promise of an exciting day ahead. You can’t help but worry about Maki’s expression, though. She had looked like her and her father were having an argument that had been going on for months--

Gojo waves at you as he jogs across the field, moving surprisingly quickly for a man who ate nothing but sugar for his breakfast. You watch him go, unable to stop a smile forming on your face as he pauses by Maki and Mai. He slaps a hand onto Maki’s shoulder and says something with a bright grin that she seems to respond to with a smile, turning to follow him. Her father’s eyes narrow, as he spits something that even you can work out is venomous at the retreating backs of one of his daughters. He sighs as he says something else to Mai, a smile almost tugging at the corners of his mouth as his attention shifts back to her.

It’s clear who the golden child is there, then.

You try and shake your thoughts away from Naoya Zenin and his two girls and concentrate on the place that you’ve been given, reminding yourself that even if it doesn’t seem like a big role, you all have to work hard to make sure that today is a success. Your students have been practising and getting excited for this event for weeks, and you want all of the parents to be as proud of their students as you are.

You have a good view from the refreshments table of everything that’s going on. You watch a few of the races, a few cheering displays from the other classes to the beat of the drums – and when kids run up to you, sweaty and panting, you hand them a plastic cup full of cool water and they thank you as if you harvested it from a spring yourself instead of merely pouring it out.

Some parents ask you politely who you are, and you tell them with a smile and a bright look, hoping that you being friendly and polite will get back to other people. A few of them exchange looks when they hear that you’re attached to Gojo’s class; the man has a reputation that follows him everywhere. You give out oranges and other pieces of fruit to some of the students who need an extra sugar boost, or the ones who have a bandage wrapped around their knee or grazes from falls that have recently been cleaned. Shoko is busy today, and you often see her direct these injured children to you as a rest stop, and so their parents can find them easily.

You pause for a moment as the names are called for a relay race, and you hear Maki and Mai being summoned. This is the first race that they’re taking part in – if their team wins this one, they’ll qualify for the final this afternoon. You can see Gojo lifting his arms and hollering and hear his loud, excited voice even with all of the other people crowding into the school grounds to watch, and despite yourself you feel a smile spread over your face.

You’re still smiling when you hear a scoff.

You turn around to see what the fuss is – only to see Naoya Zenin, holding a plastic cup of water as if it’s offended him mortally. Seeing you looking at him, his lip curls.

“Is this tap water?” He asks you. He has a curious accent; slow, drawling, and clearly much superior to your own. It’s not an accent that Maki and Mai have inherited – and as he raises one eyebrow, the sun catching the rings in his ears, you find yourself glad of it. “Well?”

“I think so,” you say. You are on edge. He peers into it, and sighs.

“Don’t you have anything better? Cell-gen or Tennensui or even I LOHAS, at least?” He speaks to you slowly, like you’re a child, or as if he’s not sure whether a peasant like you would even know the names of any bottled water brands. You can’t stand being talked down to, and you curl your hand into a fist as you say, trying to keep yourself polite;

“I’m sorry, Sir. There’s just this.”

“You’d think with the money pumped in-- fine.” He sighs, taking a sip of the water, his face scrunching in displeasure at – you don’t know. The disgusting taste of tap water, you suppose. You try not to look at the bob of his throat as he swallows. Everything about this man seems to be unpleasant except the way he looks.

You take your own cup of water, just to quell some of the dryness that has made itself known in your throat at interacting with him.

The cheering gets a little quieter, and you turn to see what’s happened. As it turns out, all that’s actually happened is Gojo has stopped putting forth his own shouts to the fray, his eyes focussed on you and Naoya, a look that you think is almost sympathy spread across his face. You see that the race is about to begin, and you don’t look at Naoya as you say;

“You’re Maki and Mai’s father, aren’t you? Their first race is about to start. Maki’s been training really hard, I think she’ll pip it for us—”

A dark presence at your shoulder, and a sneering, uppity drawl.

“I gather you’re the teaching aid I’ve been hearing so much about from everyone.” he says. It does not sound like a compliment. “Maki has really found you . . . encouraging.” He says it like it’s a dirty word.

You force yourself to remain cheerful, and not ask him what the fuck his problem is.

“Maki’s really talented,” you say. “Mai’s fast, too – they’re both really good representatives for the class--”

Naoya snorts.

“They should be on the sidelines,” he says, coolly. “Supporting the men. Not running. Not getting all sweaty and hot and messing up their hair and their pretty faces.” He shakes his head. “It’s unwomanly, and if Maki listened to a word I’d said, she wouldn’t be doing it.”

“Mai is doing it too,” you point out, hating yourself for getting involved in this. But you just can’t let him stand there and be such an asshole, spewing his narrow-minded ideas when there are impressionable girls around.

“Mai’s already agreed that if they win this race, she’ll ask one of the boys to switch in for her. I’ve sorted it with the principal. It’s not ladylike for her to do any more than she has to. She’s not going to get a husband in good standing based on her athletic prowess--”

Oh, this is too far. You’re seething, though you’re trying to keep your respectable face on. You’re at work, you’re at work, you’re at work--

“Perhaps there are some other things they consider more important than finding a husband, at the age of twelve?”

Naoya’s laugh is nasty, mocking – and you hate that there’s something in it that sends a curl of heat right through you, blooming between your thighs.

“The younger a girl learns her place,” he says, his voice very slow. “The better it is and easier it is for a man to be assured she’ll do her duties. I don’t see a ring on your finger, Miss – I’d hate for them to end up working some dead-end little job just because they don’t have anyone to cook and clean for--”

Nope.

You can’t take it any longer.

You turn and you throw the cup of ‘shitty tap water’ in your hand right over Naoya Zenin’s stupid, smug, asshole face.

Gojo, for what you think must be one of the first time in his life, looks uncomfortable.

“I didn’t know you were going to throw water on him,” he tries to say, weakly. “Look, we all hate him, but . . . ugh. This is so frustrating! I hate all of this bureaucracy bullshit--”

It turns out that Naoya Zenin’s family – and Naoya Zenin himself – donate rather a lot of money to the school for such functions as the one you’re all currently attending. It turns out that nobody wants to piss off the bank-roll that’s keeping their gym maintained, their events fancy and expensive, the library well-stocked – and you get that! You really do! You know that school budgets are overstretched already, and that donors like the Zenin family are something to be gently courted and kept around for as long as humanly possible.

You just wish that the big donor for this school was anybody else.

“I didn’t know all of this,” you say, reasonably. “I know I shouldn’t have thrown a drink over him, but Mr. Gojo--”

“How many times? You can call me Satoru.”

“If you’d heard the way he was talking--”

“Oh, believe me,” Gojo’s full lips press into a thin line. “I know exactly what Naoya Zenin’s modus operandi is. Let me guess: he was all on at you about how Maki’s not a proper young lady, how the boys should be doing the hard work, how he’s trying to make sure his daughters get a proper start and a rich husband – ugh.” Gojo tugs at his shirt, clearly frustrated. “I’ve had it way too much.”

“Yeah,” you say. You find yourself sighing too.

“The Vice Principal’s in his back pocket,” Gojo says, taking a seat on top of the desk that you’re currently sat behind, cooling off some of your anger – Principal Masamichi had sent you inside to calm you down, and Naoya himself had been escorted into the building by Vice Principal Gakuganji to dry off, all the while saying placating things to calm down the school’s meal ticket. “They want you to apologise to him.”

“I suppose I should,” you say miserably. “But it’s gonna feel like swallowing gravel.”

“I certainly don’t blame you,” Gojo says, with a smile, trying to cheer you up. “Hell, I know some of the other staff members have been dying to do it--”

“Ugh,” you bury your face in your hands. “This is a horrible impression in front of the whole school.”

He pats you gently on the shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, “when this is all over, I’ll take you out for ice cream. I know the best places in the city, and they all know me too!”

You summon a smile for him. He’s not so bad, really – sure, he’s chaotic and thinks too highly of himself for his own good, but . . . at least he’s nothing like Naoya. You stand up and pull down your shorts, wriggling your tank top down to cover you as much as you possibly can. You feel a bit exposed, not in heels and stockings and a blouse.

“I should get this over with, then.”

Gojo has too much to do back on the field to escort you to Naoya himself, so he tells you that Naoya’s in the Vice Principal’s office and gives you another friendly squeeze on the shoulder.

“Good luck,” he tells you. “Remember: ice cream at the end of this!”

“Ice cream at the end of this,” you repeat, as you watch him jog out of the corridor. You’re almost tempted to tell him off for running in the halls – Gojo moves so fast that sometimes you lose track of him entirely – but you push back the urge. Gojo is being decent today. You’re thankful to him for sitting with you and helping you calm – and also, evidently, for being one of the things that keeps Maki’s fighting spirit inflamed.

You stand there for a moment, in front of the door to the office, balling up your courage tight and hot in your stomach. You do not want to have to apologise to Naoya, but you know it’s for the best. The sooner you can put this sorry incident behind you and try and avoid Naoya at every single function from herein, the better – so you tap hard on the door and wait until you hear his slow, drawling voice.

“You can come in.”

At first, you’re surprised to see that he’s alone in there – sitting in front of the desk in a comfortable chair, clearly at ease with everything. His arms are sprawled over the back of it, his legs wide apart. You chastise yourself for thinking it immediately – of course the vice principal is busy right now, of course he trusts someone as well-known to the school as Naoya to be alone in his office.

It’s hard not to think about every other time you’ve found yourself alone with the parents of your students, though. A heat crawls onto your face at the very thought of it. You find Naoya repellent, disgusting – but then again, he’s also (and you’re not being glib about it) handsome. You’d be lying if you’d said you sometimes hadn’t ignored a man’s personality for a night in favour of a face and a body that had drawn you in.

Not now.

You close the door behind you, clasping your hands together so you don’t clench your fists, and bow your head so that Naoya can’t tell that you’re grinding your teeth.

“I’m sorry for letting my emotions get the better of me, Sir,” you say, though it really does feel like you are gnashing ice to get the words out. “I should have been more polite. I can assure you it won’t happen again.”

“Mmm,” Naoya says, and you peek up at him through your lashes to see that he’s clearly enjoying having you at his mercy, his lips tilted into a smirk. His hair is still a little wet at the ends, but all that you throwing the water over him seems to have actually done is made his shirt cling tight to a surprisingly chiselled chest and stomach. Asshole. Fuck him. “Yes. I should hope not.”

You straighten yourself up, still a little stiff.

“I hope you can forgive me,” you say. “I . . . I am still learning my place in the establishment.”

He laughs, low and soft.

“Your place?” He asks, the words dangerously sweet on his tongue. “Yes. I can see you still need some help on that one.”

His eyes crawl over you slowly, dragging up and down the length of you, lingering over where your shorts cling to your hips and the tank top hugs your chest. You resist the urge to shift – you don’t want to let him know that he’s making you uncomfortable. You know, though, that he can sense that you have gone hot and prickly all over. He has that smug air; the one men who know what they do to people always seem to have cultivated. The knowledge that they are good-looking.

You suppose for Naoya, it’s the heady combination of knowing he is good-looking and powerful and rich, and you breathe through the force of all of his attention concentrated on you.

“Seeing as you’re still . . . new to all of this,” he says, bringing an arm forward to tap his long fingers on the desk. “And you did apologise prettily, I suppose I can forgive this transgression – just this once, darling.”

The pet name crawls up your spine like ice. He’s still staring at you, enjoying the view like you’re a piece of meat on a market stall he’s considering purchasing.

“Th-thank you, Sir,” you say, hating yourself a little bit but hating him all the more.

“You know,” he says. “You’re not exactly bad-looking.” He stands, rising to his full height, stretching out, frustratingly comfortable in this environment when you feel like a deer who’s about to turn tail and flee at any moment. “You’d be much better off at home raising children than here.” He wrinkles his nose. “Working for a living.” The way that he says the words makes it clear that he considers this a task far beneath the likes of him.

He’s moving towards you now, and your breath seems to get stuck in your throat as he’s suddenly in front of you, stalking elegantly. You want to snap back something about how you’d rather work for a living than have to rely on the whims of a man, much less a man like him – but as he grabs your chin to tilt it up to the light, you find that the words seem to die in your throat.

“Hmm,” he says. “Not bad at all.” He makes an approving noise that sends a flutter right through you, making you dully aware of a pounding ache between your thighs. He leans a little further in, until he’s so close that you can see the pale colours dancing in his eyes, the way the light hits his high cheekbones. “You’re trembling with rage, you know. It’s adorable.”

“You’re very easy to be angry at,” you half-breathe, half-hiss, and Naoya’s smirk is going to be burnt into your memory forever and ever.

“If you’re so angry,” he murmurs, “I can certainly think of a way I wouldn’t mind helping you work out your aggression.”

You shouldn’t do it. But your heart is beating a frantic rhythm against your ribcage and your breath is short, and part of you wants to wrestle him to the ground and dominate him so that he can have a taste of his own medicine. You grab a handful of his hair and drag him down into a bruising kiss.

Oh, and he kisses back. His mouth is soft against yours, but the kiss itself is rough – both of your tongues fighting for dominance, both of you trying to nip at one another’s bottom lip and seize the victory. You’re practically shoved backwards so that your ass catches the edge of the Vice Principal’s desk, even as you tug hard on Naoya’s hair to tell him that you’re not going to be overpowered by him so easily. You feel the feral curve of his grin as he pulls back just enough to whisper;

“Oh? You really think you’re going to get the better of me? You’re cute--” and then you push his shoulders hard, and he stumbles and falls back onto the chair he started this whole escapade sat in. You reach down to tug off your shirt, dropping it onto the floor beside you – Naoya looks for a moment like he’s going to stand back up and resume trying to wrest back the situation into his favour, but as he sees the slight bounce of your breasts in your bra he seems to decide it would be more interesting and beneficial for him to stay exactly where he is and watch you disrobe.

So you do, wriggling your shorts down past your hips – he lets out a low groan at that, as you stand before him in nothing but your underwear with your fists clenched on your hips.

You feel surprisingly powerful like this. It definitely makes a difference from all of the other ways you’ve felt when you’ve been alone with somebody’s father--

“Take off your shirt,” you tell him, and you’re almost surprised at the imperious tone in your own voice. “It’s your turn--”

He raises an eyebrow at you, but he does as you ask. Long fingers curling around the hem of his shirt, taking his sweet time pulling it off his body – and yes, it’s a nice one. Nice, too, are his thighs as he undoes his trousers that probably cost more than you make in a year and pushes them down, sitting before you in nothing but his equally as expensive-looking underwear – an impressive looking bulge outline pressed against the fabric. Even as he looks at you, he takes hold of himself through it and squeezes it, his grin crooked.

Your body does a throb of need.

“Oh,” you say, feigning surprise. “I didn’t realise you were so needy already--”

“Like you’re not dripping,” he says sharply, his eyes zeroing in on the space between your thighs. “Don’t flatter yourself. I can see the damp patch from here.”

“Who’s to say that’s for you?” You walk towards him. You can’t help but feel powerful and in control at how his eyes follow you with rapt attention, how his tongue darts out to swipe across his bottom lip as he drinks in your form in front of him.

“Please,” he says. “As if there’s anyone here more deserving.”

He reaches forward and his hands settle on your hips, dragging you closer to him – hot fingertips brushing your waist, the bare skin beneath your bra before he’s unclipping that too and your breasts are bare. He breathes in deeply.

“Pity,” he says, though his voice is thick with his own arousal. “You’re such a cute little thing, if only you didn’t open your mouth--”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind me opening my mouth to do something else,” you breathe, and you reach down to ghost your fingers over his cock through the tent in his underwear. He hisses through his teeth, his eyes half-lidded.

“Don’t just say it, princess,” he says. “If you’re going to run your mouth, the least you could do is make it do something useful--”

“I’d rather die than get on my knees for you.” Your mouth is very close to his neck – to punctuate the statement, you give his earlobe a tug with your teeth, and he practically groans. You’re almost straddling him on the chair, and you do not miss, either, the twitch that his cock seems to give at the tug.

It seems like for somebody who really wants to be in control, and wants women to know their place so badly, Naoya actually is rather enjoying somebody giving him a taste of his own medicine.

He grabs your underwear and pulls it down, clicking his tongue as it bunches about your knees.

“Just give into what your body wants,” he says, all saccharine sweetness in that slow, deep voice. “You’ve made a mess.”

You know you have. You can feel slick when your thighs press too close together, hot and wet between your legs. You really are practically dripping. But it’s not just from Naoya, you don’t think – it’s from the sudden power you’re feeling, the rush of being an equal participant in everything, in feeling like you have the upper hand. And not a small part, you think, is because of the adrenaline that’s coursing through your veins at the thought of putting Naoya Zenin in his place. You tip your head to the side innocently.

“What about you?” You ask, with a mean shade to the pitch of your voice. “You’re so hard it’s a wonder you’re not in pain--”

He grabs a hank of your hair with one hand whilst spreading your legs further with the other, so strong that the breath’s knocked out of you. The tip of his finger skims the outer lips of your sex, gathering your slick arousal on the pad as he growls;

“I’m still a man, darling. I see a pretty cunt to fuck and a pair of nice tits and I want to bury myself into it until the bitch remembers her place--”

“Good luck,” you breathe. “I think you’ll be the one remembering his place, here.”

He laughs breathlessly.

“Oh,” he purrs. “You’re going to be singing a different song when you’re begging me to fuck you harder.”

You give him a smile with your teeth bared; the challenge is obvious. It’s a smile that says ‘we’ll see’, even as you both tug at his underwear to pull it down and reveal what he’s been hiding beneath it.

You don’t want to admit that he’s got a pretty cock, but he has. He’s not the biggest you’ve seen, but it’s still impressive; a slight curve giving it an elegant angle that you realise with a clench will hit you exactly in the right spot when you take it inside of you.

He’s slick with his own pre-come, bubbling from the reddened slit – and as you shift forward and trap it between your thighs, he groans aloud again.

“That’s right,” he grunts, as the tip catches on your entrance and you begin to sink down upon it. “This is what you were made for, princess--”

“What?” You pant. “That would be disappointing. You barely fill me up--”

He grabs you and pulls you into another kiss as you finish off sheathing his cock inside of you – perhaps to save his pride, perhaps to muffle the noise that comes out of him, transferred into your mouth instead of his own. Whichever it is, you hate that you were right about the angle of his cock – you can feel it pressing snugly against the spongy G-spot even now, threatening you with a better time than you’d like to have.

You break the kiss to pull yourself off of him and sink back down, forcibly taking the lead and setting your own pace. You know it’s fast, you know it’s greedy – but fuck, if you aren’t boiling over with need.

You splay your hands across his shoulders, nails digging into his skin with little care to how you might mark him. You need him for leverage, as you continue to bounce up and down on his cock. Naoya tips his head back and groans, enjoying the feeling, before he remembers that you two are engaged in a battle of wits and attempts to get the better of you once more.

“I-is that,” he groans, coming to cling onto your waist and force you down on him with even more strength, helping you along in the too-fast rhythm of your thrusts and bounces. “The best you’ve got?”

“Come on,” you say breathlessly, as his cock continues to stroke that spot. You can hear the sounds of him sliding in and out of you, shamefully loud – too, you can hear the sounds of your skin slapping against one another, echoing and mixing with the breathless pants and the attempts to trade barbed insults. “Y-you’re making me do all the work?”

“Fucking pity you’ve got such a nice cunt,” Naoya snarls, his hips flexing, somehow managing to hit you deeper even as you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet and straddling him on the chair. His words are starting to sound very far away. “You should be in my fucking bed, keeping it warm, better off than wasting away here--”

Both of you are running your mouths, overwhelmed by how close one another’s bodies are and the intense heat radiating from you. There’s a frisson of electricity in the air, showering sparks, as the two of you continue to snatch words in between moans and groans and pants and whimpers--

“You’re pathetic--”

“You’re so fucking tight, I shouldn’t be surprised when you’re such a bitch--”

“F-fuck, harder, c-can’t you even keep the momentum going? You’re weak--”

“Baby girl, you’re fucking shaking – you gonna come first? Women are so predictable--”

You can feel your release hovering on the edge of your vision, blurring it as your eyes squeeze shut and you feel tears threatening to roll down your cheeks. There’s a heat inside of you that’s close to overspilling – and as you come down on him particularly hard, the head of his cock rolls over your g-spot just right, and you feel a dam inside of you break as your nails dig hard enough into his shoulders to draw blood. You bury your face into his neck so he doesn’t get the satisfaction of hearing you cry out his name, teeth worrying into his neck to leave a love-bite reminder of exactly what transpired between you two in the Vice Principal’s office.

You feel yourself twitch and tighten around him as your orgasm rocks your body, heat running through you like veins of marble. You can’t breathe – all you can do is bite, your hips chasing the final aftershocks.

Naoya is still hard inside of you as you lift yourself off him, letting his cock slip out of you as easily as butter. His own hands clench around your hips.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asks, his voice rough and hungry. Despite that, though, you can hear the thread of some other emotion sewn in to them – and with a shiver of delight, you realise it’s neediness. He’s been left wanting, and you’ve been handed all of the cards. “I haven’t finished.”

“And you won’t finish inside me,” you snap at him, enjoying the longing in his voice. “Ask me very nicely and I’ll finish you off with my hand.”

“Mouth,” he demands – and he grabs your cheeks, squishing them, pulling you down and reminding you of all of the power that he has even though it’s your body that’s got the advantage of the high ground. “You don’t really think I’m going to be satisfied with your hand, princess--”

“You don’t deserve it,” you spit at him, but you sink to your knees anyway.

You’re not entirely lacking in manners. You suppose you did get to come. It would be rude to just leave him like this. Especially when the whole reason you’d ended up in this office in the first place was to apologise to him politely.

“This is the perfect position for you,” he sneers, as you open your mouth and envelope the head of his cock within it. You can taste yourself on his shaft. “Fuck, that’s right – put your mouth to good use for once--”

You give him a mean, slow lick along the slit of his cock head that makes him groan in the back of his throat. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, fingers digging into the nape so he can control you at least a little bit, pushing you a touch too far so you almost choke. You pull off it, drooling.

“Choke me again and I’ll bite,” you snarl, and he pats your cheek like you’re an obedient dog.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he says – and you narrow your eyes at him in a way that says ‘try me’ before you return to sucking at him, hollowing your cheeks. You want to do a good job. A part of you wants to make him come so hard that he regrets being an asshole to you, even though you know that’s ridiculous and not going to happen.

Still. You’re not going to back down from a challenge, so you use your tongue to play along as much of his cock as you can.

“Fuck,” Naoya breathes. “Good . . . good fuckin’ girl—”

You’ve been hearing that low, polite drawl swear and curse for what seems like hours, but that one sends another pulse of heat through you – at your heart, you can’t argue that you love being praised. You whimper against his cock, glad that the fast pace you’ve managed to establish and the wet noises of your mouth around him muffle the noise so Naoya can’t dangle it over your head.

The hand on the nape of your neck jerks, so that you’re forced to look up at him and meet his eyes proper. His hips are slamming to meet your bobs now, the noise of him fucking your mouth filling the room. His teeth dig into his bottom lip and you feel him twitch, his voice pitching--

Salt coats your tongue as he fills your mouth.

But he doesn’t let himself finish there.

He pulls out, and he pumps his cock himself two, three times – coaxing out the other ropes of come, that hit your neck and chest and breasts hot and white and glistening. You’re too surprised by it to do anything – you’d expected him to keep your mouth on him, make you swallow down everything he gave you. He seems the kind of guy who gets off on that sort of thing--

But instead, he’s sighing, relaxing back into the chair as he looks at you with lazy eyes.

“You look cute like that,” he says, his voice low and sated. “I should take a picture.”

“Fuck you,” you breathe, getting off your knees. You are so fucking thankful for the box of tissues on the Vice Principal’s desk, as you reach across and grab some to dab at yourself so you’re not sticky and disgusting for any longer than necessary.

If you leave them in his pedal waste-bin, you hope that the cleaning crew will dispose of them before the Vice Principal is even aware that they’re there. Your lip curls as you wipe your mouth. You wish you had a mint – or at least a glass of water. Even tap water would do.

For what it’s worth, Naoya seems a little agitated as he puts himself to rights too. Evidently he was not expecting you to fight back so much – he places a finger on his shoulders and scowls when he sees that you made him bleed.

“I should sue you for assault,” he says. You tap your own body, at the curve of your hips and waist.

“I’m going to bruise,” you tell him. “So I guess it would be self-defence.”

“You’re too smart for your own good,” he tells you, with narrowed eyes – and you give him another smile, one that is clearly fake, as you pull your tank top and shorts back on and re-tie your shoes.

You’re surprised as you go to leave the room and he sets a hand on the small of your back in a mocking echo of polite manners. As the two of you walk down the corridor towards the exit, he does not remove it. To the assembled crowds, you hope it will look entirely innocent – like the two of you have merely had a little chat and come to an agreement instead of heatedly fucking one another’s brains out.

You blink as you emerge out into the light, your eyes taking a moment to adjust. You see Principal Masamichi give you a sympathetic smile – and there’s Gojo, immediately charging towards you like an overprotective bear. He slows down as he sees the way that Naoya is still touching you.

“I hope everything’s alright,” he says, sounding stiffer and more formal than you usually hear. Naoya’s smile towards him is cold.

“Everything’s fine,” he says, “Perfect. You apologised beautifully, didn’t you, Miss?” Naoya looks down his nose at you, a conceited smile on his mouth. “I’ve decided to overlook this little transgression.” He leaves a pause, and you swallow as you realise what he’s waiting for.

“Thank you so much, Mr Zenin, Sir,” you say. Again, it feels like you have to force the words out through a mouthful of marbles – but they make it out of your mouth.

“Oh, don’t be so formal, Miss,” he smirks. “You can call me Naoya. I look forward to seeing you again – soon, I hope.”

“You’re just in time,” Gojo says coldly. “Maki just won the final race of the day for our team.”

Naoya’s gaze is sharp as he looks at him. His lip curls. You can tell that both of them want to do something – maybe have an out-and-out fist fight on the field. But Naoya manages to get a grip (you’re glad about it; you’re not entirely sure whether Gojo would have been able to hold back) and turns on his heel to stalk away.

He does give your ass one last squeeze, though, that you desperately hope that Gojo doesn’t notice.

Gojo’s shoulders stay set, his chin thrust proudly forward, until Naoya has been swallowed up by the crowd at large – and then, he turns to you. For the first time, you see his normally humorous eyebrows draw in with worry.

“You look upset,” he says. “Sweaty. You smell terrible. Do you need a minute?”

Your shoulders fall. Gojo gives you a sympathetic pat on the back.

“It’s a rite of passage to deal with someone from the Zenin family,” he says. “You’re just unlucky it happened to actually be Naoya today. He usually sends an underling or an uncle or someone to pretend to care about the girls.”

Wow. You sure hope the rite of passage has gone differently for everyone else.

“Why d’you think he came here today, then?” You ask Gojo. He looks at you strangely, a spark of something you can’t quite read in his eyes.

“Well,” he says, “he’s related to the Fushiguros, you know. I heard he and Megumi’s father have met up recently for drinks – it ended in a fight, of course, it always does. But maybe he expected Megumi’s dad to be here too?” He shrugs. “He can never resist an opportunity to relish over someone in his family winning, even if he doesn’t want Maki doing anything unladylike. Megumi’s dad isn’t here, though, so looks like that backfired on him--”

Your face feels like it’s on fire as you think about Megumi’s father fucking you on Gojo’s desk – and the lingering way that Naoya had said that he’d heard so much about you from everyone.

#naoya zenin x reader #naoya x reader #naoya x you #naoya smut #naoya zenin smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #not sfw #afab reader #fem pronouns #jjk teacher aid au #jjk writing #writing

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merakiaes · 3 years

Text

Captain Jealous - William Lennox

Pairing: William Lennox x reader

Requested: By @neemonroe

Prompts: #20, #41, #42 from the smut-list.

Warnings/notes: Takes place before Transformers. Not proofread so sorry in advance for any mistakes. Might be a little bit OOC but I still hope you’ll enjoy it. Please reblog and comment, it would make my day <3

Wordcount: 3806

Summary: Flirting with Will only seems to result in annoyance, but when you finally turn your attention elsewhere, he’s not very pleased.

Growing up, your mother had always told you to be the kind of woman that, when your feet hit the floor each morning, the Devil says, “oh crap, she’s up”.

You lived by those words every day of your life, not once backing down from a fight, always standing up for what was right, as well as holding your own and never giving up on getting the things you wanted.

To most, you were one of the strongest and most admirable women they’d ever gotten the pleasure of meeting, but to others… well, let’s just say that you might have taken your mother’s words a bit too literally.

You were absolutely relentless when you put your mind to something and one of the many people who had fallen victim to that stubbornness was William Lennox.

Having enrolled in the army around the same time and being equally as good at what you did both back in training and in the field, the two of you had always respected each other and rather than being competitive, tried your best to lift each other up.

If one of you took control of a situation and started shouting out orders, the other didn’t question it, not even when Will eventually passed you in ranks. Because your minds worked in the exact same ways and so it didn’t really matter who gave the orders since the orders would be the same in the end, anyway, no matter whose lips they passed.

But you did differ in the way that Will much preferred to keep his personal life separated from his professional life, while you had a habit of letting them merge together, which inevitably resulted in you bringing the obvious attraction you felt for him with you out on the field.

Will was one of the people who thought you had taken your mother’s advice a bit too literally. That was what he told you on a daily basis as a response to your endless flirting, at least. But you knew better; you knew that he, at least to some extent, reciprocated your attractions, thanks to the few moments you had shared back in training.

“It was all fun and games back then”. He liked to say in that stern, military voice he had picked up the second he was promoted to Captain. “But this is the real deal. This is serious, and this, this thing you’re doing, is unprofessional.”

Ever the workaholic soldier, he was, at this point basically having dedicated his entire life to the job with no time to spare for fun. But no matter how hard he tried denying it, you knew that the two of you shared something, and so did every other member of your squad.

The only ones who seemed completely clueless to this were the newbies and as you gradually lost hope that your stubborn captain would ever admit and give in to his feelings, you found it to be a breath of fresh air to be able to spend time with people who weren’t constantly making suggestive remarks and fueling the attraction from your side.

One, in particular, caught your eye; tall, dark and handsome. He had yet to gain more muscle than the bare minimum and was, admittedly, kind of lanky. He was one year younger than you which was way too young seeing as you’d otherwise not even go for guys the same age as you, but he had banter and shared your flirty, dirty, cheeky sense of humor which, most definitely, made up for what he lacked in life-experience.

Will had smugly watched all of the newbies try to make a move on you only to be shot down quicker than your enemies, but then the last of the soldiers had swept up by your side, put a long, lean arm over your shoulders, and hit you with the cheesiest pick-up line he had ever heard.

“How you doing, mama? You must be a parking ticket, ‘cuz you got fiiine written all over you.”

While Epps, Fig and the rest of the team broke out into laughter at the man’s poor technique, Will’s face transformed from smug to stone-cold murderer.

Why? Because he knew that you didn’t want a man to tell you the stars reflected in your eyes or that you took their breath away with your beauty.

What you wanted was someone who could make you laugh, and when you threw your head back and joined in on the seemingly endless laughing fit, he was overtaken by a feeling so strong that he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

And you noticed the change of demeanor immediately. The long, hard stares were only the tip of the iceberg, as was the way he would move closer to you and find a way to touch you as much as he possibly could without making it inappropriate or suspicious.

The most extreme part of his change in behavior was how hard and strict he suddenly became with the rookie, who had quickly earned himself the reputation of your very own lapdog.

He got scolded even for the most insignificant of mistakes, always got put on parade as the “example” in exercises in which he was usually thrown to the ground by Will himself and totally and completely humiliated.

Of course, those moments were just poor thinking on Will’s part seeing as you, besides being incredibly flirty and witty, also happened to be one of the most caring members of the team.

Not only did he have to watch you laugh until your stomach hurt at the rookie’s bad jokes, but he also had to watch you comfort and reassure him after his one-on-one’s with the Captain.

And still, Will couldn’t stop himself from making the same mistake again and again, the consequences every time being that he was stuck watching you fuss over the younger soldier, because no matter how much it vexed him, he knew that you knew why he was acting the way he was.

It was all a game to you and he played along because he wanted to keep showing you that he was the better option. Unluckily for the rookie, though, Will’s method of showing dominance was through physical contact.

You knew what Will was doing, how he was trying to punish the rookie, mildly and legally, of course, while simultaneously trying to show you that he was displeased with what was going on; that he wanted it to stop.

To a start, you only showed interest in the rookie to fuck with Will, but you quickly realized that he was actually a fun guy to hang around.

You enjoyed spending time with him. Not a second with him went without laughter and it was nice to be able to have fun like that for a change, and soon enough, you’d more or less forgotten about the silent war between the two of you.

You probably knew that it wasn’t a real interest, judging by the way you didn’t even care enough to remember his name, but it was fun to have another banter-buddy.

You’d had an identical friendship with Epps since the start, but two people could only keep the creativity up for so long; after a while, you just couldn’t come up with witty remarks and sarcastic jokes, anymore.

Up until then, Will had still kept his disapproval about the whole thing lowkey, because as long as you were only doing what you were doing to make him jealous, you were still interested.

But when you started making moves on the rookie with genuine interest, without looking over at Will while doing it, it was no longer a game.

While already on the topic of games, you were completely useless when it came to cards. It didn’t matter what game you played; you’d always end up as the loser. And although you enjoyed the banter that followed the teasing of your poor card-playing abilities, your patience wasn’t endless.

“Alright, I’m calling it.” You chuckled after losing the fifth game of the evening, dropping your thick deck of cards onto the table in front of you.

“Really? But it was going so good for you.” Epps wasted no time in firing back with feign-surprise, to which all you did was deliver a sharp slap to his head.

The table broke out into laughter. “You had that coming.” Fig shook his head, successfully starting a metaphorical war.

You chuckled at their antics and pushed back your chair, getting to your feet and stretching your arms above your head.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” You said, and wasted no time in starting to collect your things.

The rookie’s attention was instantly piqued, and so was Will’s, who had been playing in silence nearly the entire time you’d been there.

“You know, I need to shower, too.” He stated, shrugging his shoulders with a smirk. “So, I should probably join you. You know, save water. Provide some extra heat.”

“Oh, yeah?” You raised a playful eyebrow and chuckled. “Tempting offer, but I’ll have to take a raincheck on that. Glad to know I have options, though. Maybe next time.”

Without waiting for his reply, you snatched your jacket from a nearby stool and playfully flicked his forehead, before turning around and walking away, completely oblivious of the pairs of eyes that kept watching you from the table you had just left.

You went about your shower routine like you always did; get undressed, wash hair, wash body, turn off the water in-between washes, get dried and get dressed again. Sharing the water with so many people could be hard, so you couldn’t really take the long, thoughtful showers you did when at home.

You were out again as quickly as you had gotten in and took your time getting lotioned and dressed, getting as much self-care into your night as you possibly could when at a military base.

“What are you doing with the new kid?”

You should’ve been significantly more aware of your surroundings as a soldier but in your defense, everyone dropped their guard to some extent when in a safe environment, so the scream that came out of your mouth at the sudden sound of a voice was completely justified.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You swore as you jumped around, hastily reaching for your damp towel to cover your bare chest.

Coming face to face with a furious-looking Will, you glared. “Knock much?”

He didn’t look amused in the slightest, crossing his arms over his chest. “Knock, knock. Answer my question.”

Your mouth snapped shut at the dominance behind his voice and your eyes instinctively flickered to his biceps, veins and muscle more defined than ever in the way he had positioned his arms.

You were, however, proud to say that you were quick to come back to your senses, your eyes snapping back to meet his.

“Do you, maybe, oh, I don’t know, want to turn around?” You asked sarcastically with a raised eyebrow.

If you wanted him to turn around to gain privacy for yourself or simply because you couldn’t stop glancing at his bulging biceps, you didn’t know, but no matter the reason behind your wish, he didn’t move an inch.

“Answer the question.” Was all that he said, and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m just having a bit of fun.”

“Do you like him?” His questions kept shooting out as quickly as bullets and, again, you couldn’t refrain from rolling your eyes.

“He’s fun to be around.” You said simply, giving him a slightly annoyed glare before turning around and dropping the towel to continue getting dressed.

Will didn’t even try to cover the fact that he was checking you out, eyes shamelessly traveling your form and taking his sweet time to remember all the details his eyes could reach.

It wasn’t like this was the first time one of you saw the other only partly clothed – you know, it was kind of inevitable for all of you to catch a glimpse of each other’s birthday suits once every blue moon - so once the shock of his sudden appearance had melted off, the nervousness followed.

“But do you like-like him?”

At the sound of that question in particular, you couldn’t help but snort.

“What is this? Third grade?” You threw him an amused look over your shoulder. “Say that I do like-like him, do you think I should ask Epps if he can give him a note asking him to check yes or no on whether or not he’d like to be my boyfriend?” You gave him a sarcastic pout.

At this point, Will was completely fed up with your inability to take anything seriously and spun you around by your arm.

Luckily, you had just finished hooking your bra behind your back, said bra thankfully covering your chest from his view.

“Can you not make a joke about everything?” He asked, your wrist firmly held in his hand. “You have to realize how bad this looks to our superiors. First me, and now him. You can’t go around flirting with everyone. It makes you look unprofessional and uncommitted and that, in turn, makes it look like I can’t do my job.”

“Is that really what’s got your big-soldier-boy panties in a twist, though?” You narrowed your eyes challengingly, and slowly fought your wrist out of his grip to, instead, grab a hold of his hand.

Further proving your point, he did nothing to protest, the glare remaining in his eyes, but the rest of his face being overtaken by exasperation.

“I just don’t get it.” He said. “You spend all this time pushing my buttons, being completely insufferable with your never-ending flirting, and now you’re suddenly interested in someone else?”

“I think the real question here is why you’re suddenly interested when I’ve spent so much time trying to get your attention to no avail and now, what? You suddenly want me because I might be interested in someone else?” You raised an eyebrow, and couldn’t deny the flash of heat going through your body when he lowly growled.

“I’ve never not wanted you.” He objected. “And you’re not interested in the rookie.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I know you.”

“So what you’re saying is, basically, that you can’t be with me, but I also can’t be interested in anyone else.”

“We both know that relationships in this work are highly frowned upon and-“

“Highly frowned upon, but not forbidden. You’ve still had the option to choose, and you actively chose not to act on it. Just making that clear.”

“I haven’t acted on it because it’s wrong.”

“If it’s so wrong…” You started, a sharp shiver going down your spine as your bare back hit the cold, wet tiles. “Then why did you just corner me in the shower?”

During that short minute of back-and-forth arguing, he had done just that, the two of you now standing chest against chest in the darkest corner of the room.

Your face was pulled into a determined glare, as was his, and the tension and intensity behind your shared stare was enough to have all of the previously discussed issues forgotten in less than a microsecond.

The proximity between you in combination with the fact that you were at an obvious disadvantage in height and size made you feel both hot and cold at the same time. You felt like prey under his stare. You found yourself liking it all the while you were hating the feeling of being so powerless, and your inner conflict only added to the tension.

“You have no idea how much willpower it’s taken me to keep resisting you, to keep turning you down.” He spoke slowly, and lowly. “Each of my thoughts about you are improper and you put all of those thoughts into my head every day, pulling my strings, pushing my buttons, just walking around being… you.”

In one smooth motion, he intertwined his fingers with yours, and your eyes automatically flickered down to watch your now joined-together digits; rough and calloused meeting even rougher and more calloused.

“I like you. I care about you. More than I should.” He continued, prompting you to look back up with an eyebrow raised.

“And?”

“What do you want me to say?” He asked, exasperated and impatient. “Do you want me to say that I want to be with you? Because I do. I. Want. To. Be. With. You.”

You snickered at his over-dramatic emphasizing, finding it nothing short of amusing that he’d been protesting and telling you how wrong it was only seconds before, and now he was more or less proclaiming his love for you. That, more than anything, just showed how stubborn he was.

“Took you long enough.” You mused, leaning your head back into the wall and smirking, all while looking him straight in the eye. “It’s just too bad that I’ve grown so fond of the rookie. You know, he’s quite-“

Before you could finish your sentence, you were interrupted by Will’s lips crashing into yours, roughly and urgently. In the process, you were pushed even further into the wall behind you, and as the sudden force threw you off balance, you instinctively reacted by moving your arms up to his neck to hold yourself in place.

In return, his hands moved to each side of your waist, big, warm hands squeezing down on the flesh that had long ago turned cold from being bare in the nippy air for so long.

You had always imagined what it would feel like to be touched by him like this, but not even your wildest imagination could compare to the intensity of the tingles that spread through your stomach and chest.

Your hands slowly sneaked up the back of his neck, your body reacting automatically, but just as you were about to tousle your fingers in his hair, the moment ended when he pulled away.

Both of you were left panting in silence, the only sounds available for your ears to hear being your ragged breaths and the rhythmic dripping of the shower beside you.

“Wow, Captain.” You were the first one to speak. “I knew you were hot for me, but try to keep it in your pants. That was hardly professional.”

Just like that, your sarcastic persona returned as if it had never left in the first place, your eyes opening after having been closed up until then and meeting his with a playful grin.

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. “I’m pretty sure you threw professional straight out the window the first time we met.” He pointed out and much to your dismay, stepped back. “Are you going to stop encouraging the rookie, now?”

Getting straight to the point, okay.

“I don’t know…” You shrugged casually, bringing your hand up to your face to inspect your nails and peeking up at him through your lashes with a devilish smirk. “Jealousy looks kinda good on you.”

“I’m not jealous!” He exclaimed quickly, and you immediately raised an eyebrow as a way to say ‘really?’

“I’m not jealous.” He repeated, this time in a lower, calmer tone. “It’s just, you’re mine.”

Those two words alone were enough to make you inwardly groan, like one would when eating that first scoop of ice cream after not having been able to eat any in a week. Or a day.

But in a brave attempt to not make a fool of yourself, you remained in your teasing element, raising your eyebrows and hitting him back with a feign-uncaring: “Is that so?”

To that, he stepped closer to you once again, brought his hands up to cradle your cheeks, and playfully glared.

“Stop flirting with the rookie.” He repeated.

“Is that an order?” You asked.

“I’m asking politely.” He lied.

“Hmmm….” You hummed, pretending to think only for a moment, before flashing him a shit-eating grin. “No. I’m having way too much fun watching you squirm.”

Still leaning against the wall, you carefully pushed yourself up, pushed your chest against his and watched in success as his eyes flickered down.

Taking your sweet time, you brought your hands up to his chest with agonizingly slow movements and leaned your head up to his.

His breath shook as you brushed your lips over his and whispered against them lowly.

“You’re hot when you’re mad.”

Will pushed his head forward with obvious intentions, but before he could press his lips against yours, you slid out of the tight corner, resulting in him having to catch himself on the wall left behind.

With a proud smile, you walked over to the bench by which you had previously been working on getting dressed and snatched your shirt where it laid.

“You’ll drive me crazy before all this is over, you know that?” Will spoke from behind you, which only made your smile widen.

Quickly pulling on your shirt and collecting the rest of your things, you turned around and walked back up to him where he still stood in the shower.

“That’s always been the plan.” You replied simply, placing a quick peck to the corner of his mouth before once again turning around and walking away, this time leaving him completely alone in the room.

He had to take a few moments to collect himself and regain his composure, and by the time he walked back out, you were nowhere in sight.

With only you on his mind, he headed back to the table where the rest of the team were still playing cards, and sat down in the chair he had occupied before leaving.

“So, now that it’s just us here, I could use some advice on-“ The rookie wasted no time, but didn’t get to finish.

“You couldn’t handle her even if she came with instructions, kid.” Will interrupted without even looking at him, reading his mind without struggle since the person of his interest was one they had in common.

Growing up, your mother had always told you to be the kind of woman that when your feet hit the floor each morning, the Devil says, “oh crap, she’s up”.

To some, this was an admirable quality while, to others, you might have taken your mother’s words a bit too literally.

When it came to Will? Well, he just had nothing bad to say about you. You might’ve gotten on his nerves ninety-nine percent of the time, and been completely and utterly insufferable, but God did he love it.

Taglist: let me know if you want to be tagged in any future Will Lennox fics!

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miraculouscontent · 3 years

Note

I say Miraculous AU where Luka comes on the trip as a chaperone.

- Marinette stressing over what happened with Fu and now being guardian. Tom and Sabine are actually concerned about their daughter and want to do something about it, so when Luka visits the bakery to say “hi” to Marinette, they recognize him (he’s been in Marinette’s room in “Silencer” so they’ve almost definitely seen him before) and ask him to go along on the trip with Marinette, with them pulling all the strings to find a way for him to join. Luka isn’t a fool, so he happily agrees. Tom and Sabine like, “oh don’t forget to ask your parents if it’s okay,” and Luka’s just, “trust me, she’s fine with it.”

(optional bonus that, since the whole class but Lila went, there is actually an extra seat that they’d reserved for her before she backed out when she thought Adrien was going to stay behind)

- During the scene where Ms. Mendeleiev offers Marinette her seat, Luka moves in after the switch has been made, chiming in to offer Marinette his seat so she’s not uncomfortably crammed in between two adult men. She’s surprised at the offer, but thanks him and swaps with him, earning a nice window seat in return.

- At nighttime, Marinette wakes up (her head probably slipped and it hit the wall; didn’t hurt but she’s awake now) and slips out of her seat to go check on Luka to see how he’s doing. She giggles at the popcorn Mr. Damocles has dropped on him, finding it cute, then carefully reaches over to wipe off the pieces. She turns to leave, but her earlier motion brushing the popcorn off wakes Luka up. He gently calls her name and slips out of his seat to join her; she tries to apologize but he just smiles and assures her that it’s fine.

- While on their way to the back of the plane, Marinette trips slightly on Alya’s foot (as Alya is sleeping on Nino and her foot was partly in the aisle; Marinette didn’t bump into it earlier because she didn’t have to move to the side for Luka back then). Luka steadies her and Marinette covers her mouth to suppress a yelp, then they keep walking to the back.

- Still, the movement woke Alya up and she glances back to look at Luka and Marinette watching the sunrise together. Confused, she nudges Nino so the both of them can look together. Alya comments that she’s seen Marinette making “lovey eyes” at Luka (referencing “Captain Hardrock” and “Frozer”), but Marinette is so OBVIOUSLY into Adrien and “can’t be honest about her feelings.” Nino chimes in that he’s having “best bud struggles” too because Adrien is still as sheltered as ever and “won’t come out of his shell.” They get the idea to perform “Operation New York” as in the original and think that it’ll be totally easy with no roadblocks whatsoever!

- Meanwhile, Marinette and Luka have their talk about her getting her “clarity.” Marinette sighs and admits that it feels like people are going to talk about her and Adrien no matter what she says/does (which tips Luka off that something’s wrong), to which Luka replies with a smile that he promises not to bring up Adrien for the rest of the trip unless Marinette does so first. She agrees to that, even giving him a “thank you” hug that he eagerly returns.

- On the ride to the place everyone’s staying at, Alya tries to engage Marinette in conversation about Adrien, clearly smug and feeling confident that it will be easy, but then she realizes that Marinette isn’t paying attention and is idling on her phone. Alya nudges Marinette, earning her attention, but when Alya starts talking about Adrien again, Marinette’s phone goes off and she looks back down at it, now giggling. Alya, now annoyed, asks Marinette if she’s even listening, which gets Marinette to look up and really give Alya her attention. “Oh, sorry about that. I was texting Luka.”

- Alya is just, “?????”

- Yes, this special is very much going to be Alya and Nino suffering to try to get Adrien and Marinette alone together and constantly failing. You’re welcome.

- No sliding door lock-ins because that’s dumb and the special is dumb for thinking it. Also, when Alya goes to mock “tease” Marinette about her Adrien crush in front of Sabrina, she turns to realize that Marinette is with Luka talking to Miss Mendeleiev about where he’ll be staying since he’s not technically with the class, and/or Luka is talking to some of the New York people about how amazing Marinette is ala Jagged Stone.

- Later in the night, everyone sneaks out to the party (bonus if someone comments that they “never took Luka for the type to sneak out” and Luka just grins like, “You clearly haven’t met my mom.”; double bonus if Luka stumbled into Aeon and Jess’ room with Marinette and Adrien, so Aeon was all “those two are--!” before seeing Luka and being confused) and a few party-goers ask Marinette and Luka if they want to dance to the energetic music. Marinette grins nervously and insists that she’s clumsy and will just end up falling all over people (a few pout and complain that “it would’ve been fun” but drop the subject).

- Cue the superhero hot dog vendor (a description I never thought I would say but here we are) handing out hot dogs. Aeon (foreseeing what will happen; it does pain me to still put her in the roll of “love square shipper” but I’m trying not to change what characters do or how they act unless I’m specifically adding things, meaning the main change is just that Luka’s here) and knowing that Luka interfered earlier, sees the guitar case on his back and quickly requests that he play some music alongside Jess since they both play guitar. Luka agrees, assuring Marinette that it’s alright and he’s not interested in having hot dogs since he’d just get crumbs on his guitar.

- Alya and Nino grin because they’re finally going to do something here!! As in the original, the hot dog vendor only has two hot dogs left and Alya and Nino split them in half, handing two halves of the same hot dog to Adrien and Marinette, who eat their respective half.

- Marinette yelps as her feet leave the ground and Luka’s head darts up on alert. He immediately abandons his guitar, his hand reaching out and catching hers as pulls her back down (or at least as down as she’ll go while still floating). He looks up at Adrien - as if to consider helping - but Adrien doesn’t want it and seems to be having fun trying to figure out how to fly, even muttering to himself about how he wish Kagami were there because they could’ve done “air fencing.”

- Luka looks back at Marinette, ensuring that she’s okay. She’s staring up at Adrien, expression mixed, then looks back at Luka, his presence grounding her as she calms down. She almost seems to forget that Adrien is there, focusing on her current flying capabilities and how light on (off?) her feet she is.

- “Oh...oh!” She gasps, realizing with a grin. “I can’t fall over if I’m floating! Luka, dance with me!”

- He’s caught off-guard by the enthusiastic request, then chuckles and nods in agreement, happily taking her other hand as well as he guides her to the other people dancing.

- Cut to the next day when the group is going to the museum. Alya and Nino are absolutely exhausted because Luka has consistently gotten in her and Nino’s way, which leads to them coming up with the new scheme with Aeon and Jess.

- Nino sends Adrien to the planned room and Alya goes to send Marinette, but Luka catches on and casually asks Marinette if he can go with her. Alya cuts in to “playfully” dismiss Luka and tell him to stop “hovering over Marinette,” leading Marinette to slowly walk off with one longing look back at Luka.

- Luka intentionally waits for Alya to not be watching anymore, then follows after Marinette.

- Episode plays out mostly as normal, though because Marinette has to carry Luka off to somewhere safe, she’s not as easily able to go off after Chat until later since she had time to cool down. Aeon doesn’t die but Paris is still a wreck because Chat Noir didn’t show up, leading to the same Chat Noir quitting scene (just with Ladybug calling out Chat here instead of mid-battle) as before. Adrien still ends up having to leave and Alya still snaps at Marinette, which leads to Marinette chasing after Adrien (mostly due to just mounting stress and pressure and the loss of her partner).

- As Marinette lies on the pavement, Luka shows up, soaking wet because he had actually never gone back with the rest of the class; he’d run off when Ms. Mendeleiev explained to him that Marinette was missing. He panics when he sees Marinette lying motionless there, running up and quickly checking her for injuries and to ensure that she’s breathing. She just leans forward and hugs him without warning, defeated but happy to have him with her.

- Marinette slowly explains the situation, Luka looking horrified when she starts talking about what Alya was shouting at her about, and he listens all the way up until the end before pointing out, “You didn’t have to like him that way to want him to stay.” “W-what?” “Marinette, you can be Adrien’s friend and still want him to stay in New York with us. It didn’t have to be any deeper than that.”

- His words cause Marinette to realize something; she - and definitely her friends as well - had put so much weight to everything she did for Adrien just because of her silly crush that of course she couldn’t see him as a friend. With all the insistence that getting him permission to go to New York and wanting him to stay was due to her crush, it was all she could focus on. She can want things for Adrien and want to do things with him regardless of her feelings for him, and she doesn’t have to put a name to those feelings either; she’ll never be able to truly move on if she keeps equating any good feeling towards Adrien with crushing on him.

- That done, Luka helps her up and they slowly walk back to go inside, though stopping as they see that Ms. Mendeleiev is at the front of the building chewing out Alya and Nino; both of them for sending Marinette and Adrien away from the group for fake tasks at the museum, and Alya specifically for sending Marinette after a car in the rain. Ms. Mendeleiev states that they’ll talk about it more inside but everyone should get back to their rooms for now.

- Marinette heads back to her room alone (as she shared a room with Alya but Alya’s getting a talking to at the moment) and is later visited by Uncanny Valley, who explains that she’s needed. Marinette - now with renewed confidence in how she feels thanks to her revelation - doesn’t say that she “can’t imagine Ladybug without him” and instead states that she and Chat Noir are partners, and a partner doesn’t abandon the other. She did it once herself, a long time ago, but she was ready to face her mistakes afterwards and she hopes that Chat Noir is too.

- Cue return of Chat Noir (no LadyNoir hug because no Chat, you have to earn that back) and the battle plays out as usual. Adrien still has to go home and Marinette sends him a text for later saying, “I wish you could’ve stayed,” but with a smile on her face, confident that this really is a friend thing and that’s all it needs to be.

- Marinette and Luka end up sitting together on the plane ride back to Paris, right behind Juleka and Rose. It’s nighttime, but neither can sleep and Marinette decides to use the private time to thank Luka for what he said (really, all the things he said), but Luka assures her that any improvement is all on her and he’s just happy to be around for it. She chides him for his modesty and tells him to take the compliment because he deserves it (they’re just flirting at this point), then slips out of her seat and into Luka’s, lightly jabbing at his chest with a finger while insisting that he accept everything’s he’s done for her. He laughs and replies that he’s happy to do that and is just glad seeing her smile.

- Eventually, the subject shifts to Juleka and Rose, who are once again sitting in the same seat, all cuddled up and sleeping together. Marinette asks playfully if Juleka and Rose are like that back on the Liberty, to which Luka nods and answers that they are, all the time. They have a good giggle about it, with Luka explaining that they’re very close (possibly giving some exposition on how long they’ve been “together” which is obviously referring to dating but could be seen as friendship by writers who are chickens).

- Marinette thinks about that for a moment, fingers briefly twitching, then she settles a little closer to Luka, asking quietly, “Do you think we’re that close?”

- Luka gapes at her in response, needing a moment to study her expression - which is more confidence than he’s ever seen her show before - and make sure that she means what he thinks it might. Once he’s certain, he gives her an almost shy smile, replying, “I’d like us to be. What about you, Marinette?”

- Marinette turns more towards him, one of her hands falling upon his. She leans up, and the camera then cuts away to Juleka and Rose in the seat in front of them, smiling and cuddling closer to each other (a very obvious hint that Luka and Marinette kissed because the show is allergic to people kissing if it’s not the love square so fine, I’ll get creative)

- Just as the screen fades out, Marinette’s voice can be heard, saying, “Luka, I think I found my clarity after all.”

#category: salt #special: Miraculous New York #MC's Adjustments #adjustment: plotlines #adjusment: romance #other: ask and answer #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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teawaffles · 3 years

Text

Albert’s Drinking Contest: Chapter 2

“——This is, the twentieth!”

Announcing the number of glasses he’d drained, Moran set his empty wine glass on the table with a thud.

He was still clear-headed, and able to hold a conversation. But those wild features of his were now flushed, as red as the copious amounts of wine that had entered his stomach.

“Ready to give up now, Albert?”

In his tipsy, trembly vision, Moran beheld his opponent before him.

But far from giving up, Albert was completely sober. There was no discernible change in his complexion; as if he’d started drinking right there and then, he tipped back his glass, and downed his wine with ease.

With that, they were now tied at 20 glasses each. Ignoring the man staring at him with twitching eyes, Albert called out to Louis, who was still serving as their waiter.

“No matter how many glasses I drink, this profound flavour never ceases to delight. To have procured such an excellent vintage — your selections are exquisite as always, Louis.”

“Thank you very much. As I recall, this is an import from America.”

“Ah: I’ve heard that the French vineyards are still afflicted with blight. [1] It’s a pity we won’t be able to enjoy their splendid red wines for some time to come; but it’s also our good fortune to have learned about the quality of wines from the New World.” [2]

“…………”

Albert was being much too relaxed, and had even started to digress into areas completely unrelated to the match; hearing that, Moran shot him a look of displeasure.

Incidentally, the challenge had been much too great for Fred: he’d been the first to pass out, flopping onto the table with his glass in hand. Immediately after, they’d covered him with a blanket so he wouldn’t catch a cold, and the man was presently fast asleep.

“Well then, both sides have managed to consume twenty glasses. It seems both of you still have room for more, but…… if I were to speak from an impartial standpoint, you appear to be at a slight disadvantage, Moran.”

Having observed their match, William leisurely shared his views.

Moran knew his analysis was unbiased, and that was precisely why he let out a groan of frustration. His face flushed, he grabbed the bottle of wine, intending to pour his next drink; but when he realised that not a single drop had trickled out, he waved the bottle in the air.

“Sorry, Louis. It’s empty, so could you bring a new one?”

“Understood.”

Louis promptly retrieved a fresh bottle, and with brisk efficiency, filled both their glasses.

“This’ll be, the twenty-first.”

As soon as his glass was full, without any intention of savouring the wine, Moran chugged it all in one breath.

But the next moment, he was swamped by an intense wave of vertigo: somehow, it seemed he was much nearer his limit than he’d thought.

In contrast, Albert merely tilted his glass, observing the colours and clarity of the freshly-poured wine. Then he swirled it once, bringing it near his nose to savour its aroma, and took a sip to taste.

“Is this a Madeira?” [3]

Standing beside them, Louis revealed the bottle label with a smile.

“Indeed — your wine tasting is accurate as always, nii-sama. Would you like some salted cheese to complement it?”

“I’d prefer to pair such cheeses with a sweet port. [4] Or perhaps we could have a chicken with that, like Sir John Falstaff.” [5]

“In exchange for one’s soul, indeed.” [6]

Watching the two brothers quote Shakespeare as they chatted, Moran was incredulous.

“……Y’know, this is a drinking match on which I’ve staked my dignity as a man — not some wine-guessing quiz at a party,” he protested.

However, in a long-suffering gesture, Albert merely shrugged.

“Although this is an earnest match, Colonel, it’ll become a dreary affair if you leave no room for entertainment. Moreover, this wine was used to toast the American Declaration of Independence, making it perfect for tonight’s celebration.” [7]

At that bit of trivia from Albert, Moran looked positively fed up.

“Oooh, if you have so much time to share your vast knowledge, then why don’t you hurry up and drink already?”

But far from being put out, an elegant smile rose to Albert’s lips.

“Oh dear; you’re in an awful rush, Colonel. Could it be a sign that you’re nearing your limit?”

“Wha……! N-No way. I can still continue.”

Albert had hit right where it hurt, and Moran uttered a groan that was rather different from before. It seemed his opponent had observed his giddy spell from earlier.

Although the match was far from over, Moran was now consumed by a crushing sense of defeat. Seeing that, Albert made a show of draining his glass at a leisurely pace.

Even after downing a substantial amount of wine, the eldest son of the Moriarty family was unruffled, and Moran shot him a complaint.

“You’re not actually drinking some deep red tea instead of wine, are ya?”

Perhaps it was because the liquor had addled his brain, for Moran put forth a suspicion that he wouldn’t normally have entertained.

To that, both William and Louis burst into laughter.

“That’s a very unique deduction, Moran,” said William, as he struggled to rein in his mirth. “But even I can’t devise a magic trick like that.”

Louis was also trying very hard to suppress his amusement. “I filled both your glasses from the same bottle: how could it be that alcohol came out one time, and tea the next? It’s so unlike you to even consider such a ridiculous idea, Mr Moran. Wouldn’t you agree that it’s time to cut back on the liquor?”

“S-Shut it. I was just saying. And I’m not giving up now.”

Their teasing had completely soured his mood. Glancing to the side, he saw Fred, who was sound asleep.

“Somehow, I think he might’ve just laughed at that too……”

Moran gazed at the man he thought of as a younger brother, dead to the world with a peaceful look on his face. Then he fixed his blanket, which had slipped a little out of place.

When his two brothers had finally managed to regain their composure, Albert spoke up.

“In fact, Colonel: it would better protect your good name if we were to pretend that outlandish trick was true. Or perhaps we could give you a handicap, and allow you to alternate between wine and tea.”

“You don’t say. Then I’ll have two drinks the next round.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea, coming from you. If you’re the one to set up the cause of your own defeat, then it’ll make a convincing excuse to others, I see.”

“Urgh……”

No matter what he said, Albert had a ready riposte. As such, Moran swallowed his frustration, and returned his focus to the match.

“Anyway: Louis, keep it comin’, please.”

Seeing Moran try his utmost to put on a brave front, Louis was even beginning to find that a little cute; muttering his acknowledgement, he proceeded to fill Moran’s glass once more. Then, with great force, the man poured its entire contents down his throat.

“…………”

The alcohol burned like fire as it flowed into his stomach — all of a sudden, Moran came to his senses. Placing his glass on the table, he pondered.

His vexation at the Moriarty brothers’ teasing. His alcohol-induced befuddlement. And above all, Albert’s ability to hold his liquor, which had far outstripped his expectations.

His irritation at those three things had wound up completely flustering him. But once Moran calmed down and took stock of his situation, he realised William was right: he was clearly on the back foot.

Until now, he’d been unconsciously averting his eyes from his predicament by being oddly stubborn. But this pickle wouldn’t resolve itself if he just kept running away. If he continued to drink without a scheme in mind, then in his mind’s eye, he could see the outcome plain as day: he’d be out like a light in no time.

However, if he lost, then he’d have to listen to anything the victor said. Moran had originally set that rule as a way to spur himself on, thinking that there’d be no way he would lose. But now, it had lost virtually all effect in rousing his will to fight — all that remained, was the dread of what Albert would make him do upon his defeat.

He absolutely had to win. But the way things were going, it was all but certain that he’d lose.

In that case, the only option left would be——.

Within him, that conflict crystallised into a single decision.

“William,” he said. “Won’t you join in the match? Or rather: please, join.”

“Me? But why?”

Up to this point, William had been serving as an impartial judge, and he asked that with curiosity. But Moran did not answer; instead, his expression twisted into a bitter one as he continued.

“That’s not all. On top of you joining in…… If you’re agreeable, Albert, let’s ignore the count thus far and start afresh……. This is, truly a personal…… request from me.”

That faltering reply was very much unlike him, and William broke into a meaningful smile.

Moran’s decision — was to request that they increase the number of participants, and restart the game.

Despite his frustrations, Moran was well aware that he wouldn’t be able to beat Albert alone. Hence, he thought he’d bring in more opponents to counter him: even if it was just one more person.

The other part of his plan was to reset the match. If Albert agreed to that, then compared to the two existing players, someone joining in halfway would naturally have the advantage. But from Moran’s point of view, even if he was defeated, it would still be better than having Albert directly exercise his “winner’s privilege” on him — such were his complicated emotions. It was an absurd request, to be sure; but at least he hadn’t proposed having Albert compete against the combined total of both his and the other participant’s tally: perhaps that was a reflection of whatever faint scraps of self-respect Moran still had within him.

Perceiving Moran’s complex tangle of emotions, William placed a hand under his chin and pondered.

It’d also be fun to take on his suggestion. Although he did have his role as the judge, it wasn’t as if the match had any strict rules to begin with — they could easily do without one.

However, if he were to join in, and the match were to be restarted, then both Moran and Albert would be at a disadvantage. When it came to wine, he knew his elder brother’s stomach for it was bottomless; but still, it was clearly unfair to have a new and virtually-sober participant waltz into an honest drinking match. And yet, then again, he didn’t want to dismiss Moran’s “request” out of hand.

In this situation, the best option would be——.

But the instant William made his decision, and tried to voice his answer, Louis quietly raised a hand.

“Hold on a minute. Could it be that you were thinking of taking up his suggestion, nii-san?”

“……Yes, I was just about to say that. Seeing as Albert nii-san doesn’t appear to have any issue with that.”

William looked at his older brother, seated across from Moran. Then, Albert flashed them both a slight smile. Although it would mean that he would gain a new opponent, and the contest would start again from the top, it seemed he didn’t mind one bit.

Registering Albert’s generosity, Louis pointed at himself.

“In that case, may I participate?”

“……You, Louis?” Moran asked.

Louis proceeded to explain himself briefly. “I cannot countenance the possibility — however slight — that after joining the match, my brother will end up drinking too much and impacting his health. Hence, I believe that issue will be negated if I were to join the match in his stead.”

“But in that case, I would end up worrying for your health, Louis,” said William, furrowing his brows slightly.

At his brother’s kindness, Louis unwittingly cracked a smile.

“It makes me very happy to hear that. But it’s rare to hear Mr Moran make such a serious request, and so I can understand how you’d want to help him out. Of course, as Mr Moran said: this is only if you’re agreeable, Albert nii-sama.”

“Alright. Having heard that much, I shan’t object,” replied William. “What about you, nii-san?”

His elegant smile unfaltering as ever, the eldest son of the Moriarty family nodded.

“I don’t mind. If you’re certain, Louis, then I shall respect your decision.” Then, Albert’s expression turned solemn. “However, as you mentioned yourself, you absolutely must not reach the point of destroying your own health. Even though the colonel can’t help it, Louis, my condition is that you cannot drink recklessly. Is that alright?”

“Understood, nii-sama. ——Well then, it’s settled.”

Nodding in assent, Louis quietly took a seat beside Moran. Absorbing how his ridiculous request had been granted, more than gratitude, Moran’s expression was one of astonishment.

“Is this really alright, Louis? I know I was the one who asked, but Albert’s no pushover. If we lose, then you’ll have to suffer the forfeit too……”

However, Louis smiled wryly as he replied.

“I already knew that when I asked to join, didn’t I? To be honest, I don’t want to stand opposed to either you or Albert nii-sama. But now that I’ve made my decision, I have no intention of going down without a fight.”

“……Louis.”

That resolve had shaken Moran, so much so that he began to tremble. Watching him out the corner of his eye, Louis filled both their glasses; then Albert too filled his glass by himself, and raised it toward the two of them.

“Well then, once again, let’s give it our all.”

“I won’t be holding back either, you two.”

“Oh, both of you will be sorry real soon.”

Having gained a dependable ally, Moran’s enthusiasm was now back in full force.

Looking at the three of them, William spoke.

“So with Louis’s entry, the contest shall start again from scratch. But for both Moran and Albert nii-san, the next glass will be your twenty-third: please take care not to injure your health.”

With that word of caution from William, the drinking contest had resumed.

Footnotes:

[1] French vineyards had been devastated by aphids in the mid-19th century, and then fungal diseases after that. (Wikipedia)

[2] The “New World” refers to the Americas, in contrast to the Old World, or Eastern Hemisphere of the Earth. (Wikipedia)

[3] Madeira is a fortified wine made on the Madeira Islands, off the African coast. (Wikipedia)

[4] Port is a fortified wine produced in the Douro Valley in Portugal. (Wikipedia)

[5] Sir John Falstaff is a character featured in several of Shakespeare’s plays. (Wikipedia) He is renowned as a drunkard and glutton, whose favourite food is capons — roosters reared specially for their meat. (BBC article)

[6] A reference to Faust, who traded his soul with the Devil in exchange for worldly pleasures. (Wikipedia)

Aside: As far as I can tell, this line doesn’t actually appear in Shakespeare’s works. But in the legend of Faust, Faust makes his pact with the Devil via the demon Mephistopheles — who is mentioned in Shakespeare’s play The Merry Wives of Windsor (Wikipedia), which stars Sir John Falstaff as its main character.

[7] This is apparently true: Wikipedia

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #a study in scarlet

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deniigi · 3 years

Text

Please take this section from a piece about Baby Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon bonding post Bandomeer.

I’m sure that this isn’t how their master-apprentice relationship was formed but I refuse to read so this is it for me 🙃🙂

Title: platelets

Summary: After the smoke clears on Bandomeer, the Agricorps gathers 12yo Obi-Wan into their ranks and prepares to train him to become one of their own. Qui-Gon thinks they should wait a damn minute here. He’s had a change of heart.

---

Obi-Wan was no longer in the med bay. It took Qui-Gon two hours to find him and two years off his life trying to look casual under the irritated gaze of so many suspicious Agricorps members.

The foreman (forewoman) was the first to crack under Qui-Gon’s very charming smile—and she didn’t so much as crack as tell him that his attempts to be subtle disgusted her to the core.

Obi-Wan had been given over to a young lab manager. A friendly man in need of his first supervisee. He was soft at heart and, according to the foreman, very good with kids.

Qui-Gon understood implicitly and rapidly that this was his new competitor.

He asked the foreman what the knights had done to incur the corps’ ire and she told him to search his fucking feelings.

She closed the door behind him, effectively locking him into one of the Agricorps terrarium-lab bubbles.

Qui didn’t like to snoop. He loved to snoop.

Nothing was more satisfying then having a poke through the lines upon lines of glasses and test pockets that covered the tables. He had a sniff around the experimental cuttings taking root in their glasses and then took cover when he heard a voice break out into a laugh.

He peered over the edge of the counter and spotted the familiar green smock-tunic of the corps. Its owner had tan skin and narrow eyes and his back stooped into an arc. Qui-Gon craned his neck and found that the arc came over the tuft-y red hair of his future apprentice (because there was no real question here, regardless of the corps’ agitation; the knights would always get first choice over the initiates).

The lab manager, however, gave no sign of trepidation. He held in front of Obi-Wan a handful of seeds that sprouted and curled under his smile. Obi-Wan watched them with wide eyes. The manager turned his gentle face down towards Obi-Wan and nudged his hands until Obi-Wan was holding the mass as it grew.

“Look, you’re a natural,” the man said.

Obi-Wan sucked in a lip and focused hard. One of the plants’ first adult leaves began to unfurl.

“Well done. Fantastic,” the manager said. “Look at you already. Great job and for that, a reward.”

“A reward?” Obi-Wan asked, handing the tangle of roots off as the manager held out his hands for them.

“A reward,” the manager agreed, plucking one of the fat stems from the bunch and holding it out to Obi-Wan, “A snack.”

Damn. This guy was good.

The foreman was smug as a dungbeetle in shit when Qui-Gon skulked out of the lab. She asked him how his proposal had gone. He scowled at her and made off back to his quarters.

Normally, he would call someone to lament the traitorous actions of these supposed-allies, but no one was going to be sympathetic right now—not even Tahl. She was going to say what everyone else was going to say which was “Man, you had how many chances to get this right?”

He smashed his face into the pillow of his bunk, then flung it off and flattened his cheek against the mattress.

There had to be some way to turn these tides back in his favor. He wasn’t losing to the Agricorps. Master Dooku would have a heart attack. Qui’s failure in this—more than Xanatos—would kill him and then he’d have to live with that guilt for the rest of his life.

UGH.

Alright, Jinn. Think.

He had a brilliant plan. It involved a lightsaber. Obi-Wan loved lightsabers. Qui-Gon had witnessed him loving them many a time.

He scrounged up some tools and squeaked past the Agricorps security for a quick bounce off to acquire a crystal. A blue one. Obi-Wan looked like a blue saber sort of kid. It took a while to find one because everyone, everywhere, was conspiring against Qui-Gon on this. Even the Force seemed to be telling him that he was too late.

But for once, he didn’t care. There were only so many times you could fuck up before you started fucking up at least in the right direction.

He got the crystal. He brought it back to the corps headquarters and went on the hunt yet again for his (his damnit) future apprentice.

This time, Obi-Wan was in the dormitories. Qui-Gon almost gasped in horror to find him outfitted in an over-large green smock-tunic. He flapped the too-long sleeves with a goofy smile while his lab manager reached around him and tightened the belt at his waist as far as it would go.

“You’re so scrawny,” the lab manager told him. “We’ll fix that.”

Obi-Wan beamed up at him and held up his sleeve-covered hands.

“I like green,” he said.

A small piece of Qui-Gon screamed internally.

“I think you’re more of a blue, actually,” the lab manager said. “But this is what we’ve got for now. When you get bigger, we can see if there’s a blue that fits you.”

“There are so many colors,” Obi-Wan said as the manager trapped his arm and started rolling up one of the sleeves. He tried to do the same with the other on his own, which just made the manager’s job harder.

“There are,” the manager said.

“Do you get to pick?”

“You sure do.”

“How do you pick?”

The manager patted Obi-Wan’s head and turned around to hunt down something else from the spare clothing supply.

“It comes to you,” he said, muffled.

There was a long silence. Qui-Gon had just decided to step out of hiding, when Obi-Wan, looking at the rolled edges of his sleeves said,

“I think I want to leave.”

Qui-Gon’s heart stopped. The manager’s rummaging did, too. He pulled himself carefully out of the cupboard.

“Leave?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said to his sleeves. “I think I want to leave.”

No.

“You’re a little young to leave, aren’t you?” the manager said awkwardly.

“Maybe,” Obi-Wan said. “But I’ll figure it out. If I can survive those people in the mines, then I can figure it out, can’t I? And then I can pick my colors out there. You get to pick, right? Maybe I’ll do blue after all.”

Fuck. No. Qui-Gon was gonna—

“Hey, why don’t we do this?” the manager said, setting aside a set of gaiters to kneel down in front of Obi-Wan. “Let’s give us a trial run, huh? Two months, max. I know we didn’t make the best first impression, but give us two months—eight weeks—and after that, if you don’t like it, we’ll make sure you’ve got somewhere to go when you’re ready to leave. Does that sound okay?”

Qui-Gon held his breath. Obi-Wan studied the knuckles of the hands holding his. He rubbed his split lips together.

“Eight weeks?” he asked.

“That’s all, no more and if you really, really can’t stand it, then even less,” the manager said.

“And you’ll help me? Even if I say I don’t want to stay?”

“Even if you don’t want to stay.”

Maybe Qui was operating on another, less child-friendly level here, but why in kark’s name you’d even give the boy the illusion of choice was beyond him. The answer was, truly, that the second Obi-Wan set foot away from the jedi, he’d be signing his own death sentence.

Xanatos wouldn’t care if he wasn’t Qui-Gon’s true apprentice. He wouldn’t ask those kinds of questions. He’d just seize the opportunity the moment Obi-Wan no longer had someone standing behind him, and when he was through, he’d bring the body to the Temple and lay it out cold and open-eyed on the front steps.

There were no other options for the child now. Qui-Gon was being kind with this process of trust-building. In reality, if he really needed to, he could contact Yoda and acquiesce to his previous wisdom and arguments for Qui-Gon to take the kid on. Yoda would then change the boy’s assignment and orders; he would return to the temple and thereafter again go through the selection process. But this time, Qui-Gon would select him without hesitation.

That wasn’t how Qui-Gon wanted to do this, but if the boy thought that he was going to leave, to step out into the cold of space, then to spare him a cruel, meaningless death, Qui-Gon would.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said quietly to the manager.

“Anytime, hon,” the manager said. “Who knows, anyways. You might even like it here.”

The trouble with the damn Agricorps was that they were phenomenal talkers. They talked to people about their problems and all these insecurities and they gave them food and drinks and told jokes and laughed and hefted their littlest supervisees up onto their shoulders and all that served to make their members loyal to each other to a fault.

In short, Obi-Wan’s lab manager was winning this battle more every day.

This was not helped at all by the fact that Qui-Gon had discovered through a surprise meeting that Obi-Wan was afraid of him.

They’d bumped into each other in the hallway as Obi-Wan came from the mess hall and Qui-Gon went to drop off some documents, and the kid scrambled away from him and flattened himself against the corridor’s wall.

Some serious meditation (and agitating Mace, great tower of sleep-deprived wisdom) had brought Qui-Gon to the conclusion that yeah, a month in forced labor, being banished to a mine, food deprivation, physical assault, and so on really did a number on a twelve-year-old’s trust in people and their associates.

Further, Mace pointed out that Qui-Gon was approximately ‘half a mile tall and covered in overgrowth.’

He did not appear to be a soothing presence to children. Mace said that if he’d deigned to join him and the other masters in chatting and cuddling the younglings in the crèche, this wouldn’t have been a problem, but alas, Qui, you stuck-up nerfherder. You reap what you sow.

Mace’s hind and foresight was, as per usual, invaluable.

Qui-Gon decided that he was going to be the nice version of himself. He was going to smile at Obi-Wan. That would do it.

It didn’t do it.

The foreman came to Qui-Gon’s quarters to gleefully tell him not to approach the corps’ young supervisees unprompted. He was giving the children hives.

He explained to her outright that he intended to take Obi-Wan on as his apprentice.

She told him good luck. Obi-Wan, she claimed, was already settling in with the others. He was making friends. And Qui-Gon wasn’t so cruel as to separate such a traumatized boy from such comfort, now was he?

But there, she was mistaken.

He definitely was that cruel.

The foreman told him to die miserable and slammed his door.

It took another two tries, but eventually, he managed to find Obi-Wan tucked away on one of his breaks from his training in the lab. He appeared to be at a loss for what to do with himself. He’d settled against a window and had splayed both hands on it as he stared out into the cracked soil of Bandomeer.

Qui-Gon watched him for a little while and then cleared his throat.

Obi-Wan jumped. His eyes came up for the briefest second and then his head went down.

“Master,” he greeted.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon replied. “You seem bored.”

Guilt colored the boy’s cheeks in a flush.

“I’m not bored, Master,” he said, fidgeting with his rolled sleeves.

“May I sit?” Qui-Gon asked, gesturing next to where Obi-Wan knelt. He nodded and arranged himself in a more dignified posture. Qui-Gon let him; he sat down next to him, grumbling and creaking and popping.

His bones weren’t what they used to be.

Once he was finally more or less comfortable, he turned to notice Obi-Wan staring at him with eyes like a cat’s.

“What? You never seen an old man sit?” he asked.

“What happened to your hair?” Obi-Wan asked.

Oh.

“It’s in a bun,” Qui-Gon explained, reaching up to release the mane. It tumbled down over his shoulders and cheered for fresh air.

Obi-Wan’s gaze became even more cat-like. Qui-Gon fought off a smirk.

“You want to touch it?” he asked.

The kid looked away abruptly.

“It’s okay. You can touch it,” Qui told him. “It looks better than it feels, I must say. Needs a trim—look at these ends, little one. I ought to be arrested for crimes against decency.”

Aha. Gotcha. Look at that wobble in those lips. Trying not to smile. They’d see how long that worked, now wouldn’t they?

He badgered Obi-Wan until he finally broke and reached up to brush his fingers against the hair Qui-Gon put within his reach. His attention snapped into place.

“It’s soft,” he said, amazed.

His fingers started combing without permission. Qui-Gon let it happen.

“Very useful for cold climates—have you ever felt a snow-yak, Obi-Wan?” he asked.

The boy shook his head. Of course, he hadn’t.

“Do you know what they look like?”

Another shake.

“Well, perhaps one day, you will see them,” Qui-Gon said indulgently. “When I was a boy, my master told me not to try to pet them—he told me at every step of the way, he knew me well. But you know what I did?”

There was that smile now.

“You pet them?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I sure did,” Qui-Gon told him. “And you know that they did?”

“Kicked you?”

“Me? No. I was too small a target. They charged my master—Master Dooku; you may have heard of him.”

Obi-Wan shoved his giggles into his palms.

“I want to pet one,” he said.

“Yes, you do look like the type,” Qui-Gon said. “Tell me, Obi-Wan, what are your feelings on pathetic lifeforms?”

“What’s that?”

“You tell me. What’s a pathetic lifeform to you?”

Obi-Wan settled in and thought about it as he gazed out the window’s thick glass.

“Me,” he decided.

Bless him.

“You?” Qui-Gon said incredulously. “No, no. You saved a jedi master. I said ‘pathetic.’”

“Me,” Obi-Wan insisted again.

Qui-Gon held a finger out between them.

“If you are a pathetic life form, then I am in grave danger,” he said.

The giggle this time wasn’t hidden. It make Qui-Gon’s own grin grow.

“I was thinking a lothcat,” he admitted. “Or a dragon—love a dragon. Of course, the yak—perhaps not pathetic to my master, but to others yes. They’re not smart, Obi-Wan, poor things.”

“You like animals,” Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon weighed this statement with his head.

“’Animals’ isn’t quite broad enough, but yes, they fall into the category,” he said. “I’m also a big fan of rescuing the plants that no one can keep alive.”

Obi-Wan brought up his knees and wrapped his arms around them. He settled a soft cheek onto the top of the right one.

“That’s what I’ll be doing here,” he said.

“Indeed,” Qui-Gon said.

There was a long pause. The boy sniffed softly.

“You will be happy here,” Qui-Gon told him gently. “They will take care of you.”

Another sniff. An eye scrubbed with a too-long sleeve.

“I’m sorry I’m not good enough,” Obi-Wan whispered.

Well, this was a conversation Qui-Gon hadn’t wanted to walk into. There were, from his vantage point, a few ways out of it, but at the end of each of those paths was a set of brown eyes framed by intense, wispy green brows.

“You are good enough,” Qui-Gon said. “I am just a foolish master. You deserve someone better than me, Obi-Wan.”

“There is no one else,” Obi-Wan said.

“There will be,” Qui-Gon said.

“No, there won’t. I’m out of time. All that’s left for me is...this,” Obi-Wan said, gesturing to the landscape beyond the window.

Qui-Gon studied it; the cracks in the soil, the piles of broken stones.

“It is a little bleak,” he admitted.

“What is it like for non-jedi people?” Obi-Wan asked. “Do they go to school? How do they find somewhere to sleep?”

“You will not be a non-jedi person,” Qui-Gon said.

There was a long pause.

“What?”

Qui-Gon sucked in a breath and let his shoulders fall.

“Unless you really want to be one,” he added. “Apologies, I spoke without thinking.”

Those blue eyes were the same color as the crystal in Qui-Gon’s pocket. He put his hand inside of it and pulled the carefully wrapped parcel out so that Obi-Wan could see it. He rolled it slowly until only the crystal sat in his palm.

“There is greatness in you, Obi-Wan,” he said. “And I am not a good enough Master, but you are more than a deserving padawan.”

The eyes flicked from the crystal to Qui-Gon’s face once, then twice.

“Do you mean it?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Are you okay with having a silly master?” Qui-Gon asked. “I will not sugar-coat it—one of my students has already fallen. I am the type of person who Master Windu has been dreaming of the unfortunate demise for since we were children.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked with eyes only for the crystal.

“Excellent question. I am told that my brain is fundamentally ill-suited for human interaction,” Qui-Gon said with a smile.

Obi-Wan huffed.

“Does Master Windu really dislike you so much?” he asked.

“He speaks to me in such ways only out of love. My other friends say that I am dedicated intensely to the flight of fancy.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Obi-Wan said.

“You know, funny thing,” Qui-Gon told him, reaching over to take his hand and press the crystal into it, “Neither do I.”

#Obi-Wan Kenobi #qui-gon jinn #I think Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon should be the kind of apprentice and master who deserve each other #and by that I mean that they both do shit that make the other's teeth grind but they bear it with a smile #fic #ficlet

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

Text

The Last One

The Court - Throne of Glass x FRIENDS - Fic Series

S10, E17/18 : Rowan, after realizing he's still in love with Aelin, chases her down, refusing to let her go. Meanwhile, Elide and Lorcan welcome their baby...or babies, into the world.

Episode chosen for Rowaelin Month 2021. Day 12: Delayed Love Confession

Fic Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Rowaelin Month Masterlist

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Birth

7860 words

*******

Rowan woke up to the bed shifting. He cracked an eye open, still cloudy with sleep, and watched Aelin sit on the opposite edge while she pulled her shirt over her head, concealing the bare expanse of her back.

“Hey.” He croaked, voice still rough.

She turned and gave him a soft smile, whispering, “Go back to sleep, I have to go home.”

Rowan wanted nothing more than for Aelin to never leave his bed, but he knew she had things to do so instead he said, “Oh, okay.” He reached a hand across the sheets and grabbed hers, “Last night was amazing.”

She finished putting on one of her shoes and looked back at him with that same soft smile, “It really was.”

Rowan tried to read the emotions that flashed across her face but then she was standing and bending over to draw him into one last kiss. Her palm rested on his cheek while his gently cupped the back of her head before they pulled away. Rowan kept his eyes on Aelin as she left his room and he didn’t fall back onto his pillow until he heard the sound of his apartment door clicking shut behind her.

***

Elide was scared. Scratch that—terrified. Elide was terrified, but she kept her calm as best as she could while she held Asterin’s hand.

Elide had thanked all the gods she could name for Asterin coming into her and Lorcan’s lives. After getting married and enjoying the first few months of bliss, she and Lorcan decided to try having a baby, but after months of negative pregnancy tests and too many doctors visits, they were told it likely would never happen for them. Devastated, they thought through their options and settled on adoption. But even then, they knew it would take some time.

Elide remembered some afternoons spending hours sitting by the phone desperately hoping it would ring and be someone from the adoption agency to tell them they’d been picked. When they’d finally gotten the call and met Asterin, a young woman who was looking for the perfect parents for her baby, they knew it was meant to be.

Now, standing in the delivery room, Elide held Asterin’s hand as the woman powered through another contraction.

“Breathe, breathe, breathe,” Elide coached encouragingly, “good.”

“Are you fully taking over, or do I get to say breathe?” Lorcan asked as he walked to Elide’s side beside the bed.

She scoffed and tilted her head to meet his eyes. “No. Last time, you said it like a sociopath, and it creeped her out.” She turned back towards Asterin who looked tired, “Can I get you anything? Ice chips?”

“No,” Asterin shook her head, “I’m okay.”

Elide nodded and smiled, “Alright, I’ll be right back.”

As she started to walk out of the room, Lorcan’s hand shot out and gripped her elbow, stopping her.

“Where are you going?” He asked. She could almost detect a hint of nerves as he spoke.

Elide raised a brow, “To the bathroom.”

Lorcan lowered his voice so that only Elide could hear. “You can't leave me alone with her.”

“What?” She asked incredulously.

Lorcan ran a hand through his long hair, and now she could definitely see nervousness etched across his face. “This is exactly the kind of social situation that I am not comfortable with” he grumbled.

Elide snorted, “What kind of social situation are you comfortable with?”

He leveled a stare at her. “It's just that we've never spent any time, you know, alone together.”

Elide rolled her eyes at her husband, “You’ll be fine,” she took a step and turned back, giving him a small smirk, “No, you won't, but I'll be back in two minutes.”

Lorcan sighed but grumbled okay.

He walked back over to the woman lying in the hospital bed, trying his best to seem calm, but by the grimace she shot him, he wasn't doing a very good job.

“So, uh,” He grasped for something to say, “any plans for the summer?”

“I don't know, maybe travel? I wanna do some flying again.”

Lorcan hummed, still not sure what to say. If Elide had still been in the room, she’d have laughed at how ridiculous he looked. Standing well above six feet, with his hands fidgeting and swaying on his toes from being so uncomfortable in the moment.

“So, you ever wonder which is worse, you know; going through labor or getting kicked in the nuts?” Lorcan asked the first thing that came to mind and immediately regretted it. He should've just kept his mouth shut.

“What?” Asterin asked, her eyebrows scrunching in disbelief.

“I mean, uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “One of life's great, unanswerable questions. I mean, who knows? Maybe there's something even more painful than those things?” Lorcan cringed and suggested, “like this.”

***

Lysandra walked into Fenrys’ apartment to see him holding two small fuzzy animals.

“Good morning,” She said hesitantly.

“Hey!” Fenrys grinned, lifting up the creatures.

“What's that?” Aedion asked, following Lysandra into the room.

Fenrys grinned, “It's my house-warming present for Elide and Lorcan.”

Lysandra and Aedion shared a look.

“It's a baby chick and duck,” Lysandra said, unnecessarily. “You know they’re living in the suburbs right?”

“Uh-huh,” Fenrys nodded, “And I named them Chick Jr. and Duck Jr.”

Aedion snorted, “I didn’t see that coming.”

“Yeah, I figure they'll love it at the new house, you know?” Fenrys set the animals down, “It has that big backyard. And then, when they get old, they can go to that special farm that Lorcan took the other chick and duck to.”

Lysandra raised a brow at Fenrys and hummed, unable to say what she actually wanted to say.

Aedion barely held in a grin as he nodded sagely to Lysandra and mocked, “Yeah. It's a shame people can't visit there.”

Fenrys was cut off as Rowan showed up and joined them in the apartment,

“Guess what?” Lysandra whirled on Rowan, smiling, “we’re almost all aunties and uncles!”

“What?” Rowan asked, confused.

“Yeah,” Fenrys said, “Asterin went into labor last night. Elide and Lorcan are at the hospital right now!”

“Oh, my gods.” Rowan grinned at the thought of a massive Lorcan holding a tiny baby. He shook his head, glancing around, “Is Aelin here?”

Fenrys glanced towards Aelin’s room, “Uh, I think she's still asleep. Hey, how did it go with you guys last night? She seemed pretty pissed at you.”

Rowan couldn’t—wouldn’t—suppress his smile as he thought about the night before. Being with Aelin again was better than he remembered, and he cursed himself for all the time they’d missed out on.

“Yeah, we, uh, we worked things out.”

Lysandra’s eyes widened as she watched him, “What's that smile? Did something happen with you two?”

Rowan chuckled, “Hey, I'm not one to kiss and tell,” then he muttered, “but I'm also not one to have sex and shut up.”

Apparentally, his last words weren't as quiet as he thought.

Aedion groaned, wincing “Dude, that's my cousin.”

Rowan ignored Aedion as Fernys laughed, “Oh my gods, You and Aelin?”

“I know, it's great.” Rowan didn't think his grin could get any wider.

Lysandra hugged him, squealing, “So what does that mean? Are you guys getting back together?”

“I…” He trailed off, frowning. They hadn’t actually talked about it before Aelin had left earlier that morning. “I don't know. We didn't really get to talk about it.”

“But do you wanna get back together?” She pushed.

Rowan didn’t hesitate as he said with certainty, “Yeah, I do. it just felt so right. When I was holding her, I mean, I never wanted to let her go. I want to be together.”

Lysandra, Aedion, and Ferys all had matching smiles as they listened to Rowan.

Then Fenrys spoke up and Rowan felt himself deflate.

“So is she still going to Paris?” He asked, still holding the small animals.

Rowan had been so caught up in the happiness of last night and that morning that he’d completely forgot the reason why he and Aelin had been so emotionally worked up their argument caused the tension to finally snap, leading them to spend the night together.

Aelin had been offered an amazing job. A perfect job. Perfect, except for the fact that it was in Paris and not New York

She'd had said goodbye to each of their friends. Except him. She’d cried and laughed and reminisced with all of them. Except for Rowan.

He’d been so upset, so angry. How could Aelin not have anything to say to him, after all these years, after all they’d been through?

When he’d confronted her, she’d told him, devastated, “If you think I didn't say goodbye to you because you don't mean as much to me as everybody else, you're wrong. It's because you mean more to me.”

He’d stopped her, not needing to hear anymore as he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her in for a searing kiss. She’d been shocked, unprepared for Rowan’s actions. She’d stepped away, searching his face, before pulling him towards her and kissing him again.

Gods, how could he have forgotten that she was leaving?

“Wow, I hadn't thought of that. I hope not.” Rowan didn't know how he would deal with Aelin leaving now. He’d just realized that he still loved her, and now he might lose her. But how could he expect her, or ask her, to stay? What kind of person would that make him? A desperate one? A man in love? Or an overreaching, entitled one who thought he could step in the way of one of the best opportunities she'd ever been given?

He would have to talk to her before he spiraled any further.

“Oh, this is so great!” Lysandra exclaimed, unaware of Rowan’s churning thoughts, “You guys might get back together, Elide and Lorcan are getting their baby, and there are chicks and ducks in the world again!

They all looked towards the sound of a door opening to see Aelin emerge from her room.

“Good morning,” She smiled at them and ignored the pointed looks and wiggling eyebrows of her friends.

“Hey,” Rowan smiled at her.

She walked up to him and greeted him quietly, “Hey.”

“How’d you sleep?”

She smiled, “Good, you?”

He matched her grin, “Good.”

Fenrys snorted, “I bet you did!”

Aelin flipped him off, shooing him, Lysandra, and Aedion away. Once they’d left, Rowan cupped her face and swooped down to kiss her. It felt like coming home.

When they broke apart, they both wore soft smiles.

“Last night was wonderful,” Aelin told him, rubbing a hand down his arm.

“Yeah, it was.”

She kept her eyes on his as she told him, “I woke up today with the biggest smile on my face.”

He tried to keep the satisfaction off his face but failed and she huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes before softening her features again.

“I know, me too,” Rowan told her, moving one thumb to brush along her cheek. “It was...you know, it was like one of those things you think is never gonna happen, and then it does, and it's everything you want it to be.”

She nodded, “I know,” Aelin leaned up to press another soft kiss to his lips before pulling him into a hug to say into his ear, “it was just the perfect way to say goodbye.”

In that moment, at her words, Rowan felt like his heart shattered into a million little pieces.

***

The hospital room buzzed with excitement.

“It's just a little bit more, honey.” Elide held Asterin’s hand as the young woman pushed again.

She sobbed, more in frustration than anything else “Help me! This hurts!”

Lorcan stood a step back and asked, “Is it really that bad?”

Both women glared at him with a ferocity that made him want to be swallowed up by a hole in the ground.

“Yeah,” Asterin answered through gritted teeth, “I think it's time to kick you in the nuts and see which is worse!”

Elide sighed as she was reminded of the words Lorcan reluctantly relayed to her earlier. She looked back at him, “No tact.”

The doctor cleared his throat, drawing all their attention towards him, “The baby's head is crowning.”

“Oh my God!” Elide cried, walking around to see, “That is the most beautiful top of a head I have ever seen! Lorcan, you have to see this!”

Lorcan had never looked more uncomfortable. “I'm okay.”

Elide whirled on him, “Lorcan, you don't wanna miss this. This is the birth of your child!”

His child. The words rang through him and sparked some sense of resolve. He shook himself of his discomfort, outwardly at least, and stepped up behind Elide to see what she was seeing.

“Wow.” He murmured reverently, “Disgusting.”

Elide scoffed but Loracn gripped her shoulders and kissed her forehead.

“Here we go,” The doctor said, glancing back up at Asterin “Start pushing.”

A shill cry broke through the air and Elide and Lorcan watched as the doctor held up a beautiful little baby. When Elide ripped her eyes away from the infant as the nurses cleaned it, she looked up to find Lorcan already staring at her with tears in his eyes. They didn’t have to say anything, they both felt the same overwhelming sense of love.

“It’s a boy.” The doctor said, leaning back and adjusting his gloves.

“A...a boy!” Elide beamed at Lorcan as he stood open-mouthed before showing her the widest smile she’d ever seen on the man.

“A boy.” He breathed.

“Oh, you did it!” Elide went back to Asterin’s head and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She leaned closer to the girl and whispered, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Asterin smiled at them both, “I'm really happy for you guys.”

“How do you feel?” Lorcan asked.

She sighed, “So tired.”

The doctor sat back into position, saying, “Well, you don't have that much time to relax. The other one will be along in a minute.”

The hand Lorcan had been rubbing down Elide’s back froze, as did both of their breathing as they slowly turned to face the doctor with eyebrows up to their hairlines.

“I’m sorry,” Elide said slowly, aware that Lorcan hadn’t resumed breathing yet, “who should be along in a what now?”

The doctor gave them a weird look, “The next baby should be along in a minute.”

“One.” Lorcan finally regained his ability to speak. “One baby. We signed up for one baby.”

“You know it's twins, right?” The doctor asked slowly

Elide laughed hysterically, “Oh, yeah! These are the faces of two people in the know!”

“I…” The doctor trailed off, “I can't believe you didn't know it's twins! This has never happened before.”

“Oh wow,” Loracn snorted incredulously, “That makes me feel so much better.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair.

“Wait,” Elide faced the doctor, “did you know it was twins?”

He nodded slowly, “Yeah, it's here in the paperwork we got from the clinic.”

Elide then spun around to Asterin, “Anybody tell you?”

Asterin furrowed her brows, “I don't think so. Not explicitly.” she insisted. “they did mention something about two heartbeats. But I thought that was just mine and the baby's. They kept saying both heartbeats are really strong, and I thought well, that's good 'cause I'm having a baby.”

Elide let out a shaky breath trying to wrap her mind around what was happening. “This is unbelievable.”

Lorcan gripped Elide’s arm and tugged into the corner of the room. “Can I see you for a second?”

Elide had never in her life seen Lorcan look more unsure of what to do. His hands were shaky as he gripped hers. “What do we do?”

She took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes. “What do you mean what do we do?”

“Twins.” He stated urgently, “Twins!”

Seeing Lorcan so frazzled oddly calmed Elide down. “Lorcan, you’re panicking.”

“I sure as fuck am, join me!”

She cracked a half-smile, “Lorcan, take a breath, it’s going to be okay.”

“Elide, we are not ready to have two babies!” his eyes were still wide in shock and fear.

“That doesn’t matter!” she hissed, grabbing his arms and making him focus on her. “We have waited so long for this. I don't care if it's two babies. I don't care if it's three babies! We are taking them home because they are our children!”

Lorcan’s face softened and she watched as a steady resolve found its way across his face and through his body. They took a breath together and he pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead gently. When he pulled away, he had a small smile reserved only for her. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeated, her arms still wrapped around him.

“Okay.”

“Okay!”

“Okay!” he laughed, and this time it wasn’t fear clouding the sound, but joy.

“It looks like we're about ready over here.” the doctor called, and Elide and Lorcan walked back towards Asterin.

When another cry sounded, the doctor lifted the second baby, declaring, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl?” Lorcan asked quietly, a smile growing.

“Indeed.” The doctor replied, passing her to be cleaned up.

Spinning towards Elide, Lorcan said excitedly, “Well now we have two different ones!” then he whirled back to the doctor and put on his stoniest glare, “And that's enough!”

***

Lysandra, Aedion, Fenrys, and Rowan sat in the coffee house, Cadre Coffee, as Rowan told them what Aelin had said earlier.

“And then she hugged me and said it was the perfect way to say goodbye.” Even repeating it now, felt like chewing on broken glass.

“What did you say?” Fenrys pried.

Rowan sputtered, “Nothing. What do you say to that?” What could he say to that?

“Rowan,” Lysandra pleaded, “you've got to tell her how you feel.”

“I can’t do that to her.” He sighed, defeated. “I can’t lay that on her right before she’s supposed to leave.”

“Rowan,” Aedion leaned forward, making sure he held the silver-haired man’s attention, “Aelin doesn't know that you wanna get back together. If she did, she might feel differently. She might not even go.”

“You really think so?” he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Just then, Aelin breezed into the coffee shop.

“Hi, guys!” She waved before walking up the counter.

Rowan watched her a moment. “Alright, you know what? You're right. I should at least tell her how I feel.” He could do that. He had to do that.

"Rowan, wait!" Fenrys called from behind him.

Rowan spun around, "What?"

Fenrys grinned, "Can you get me a muffin?"

Rowan gave him a one-finger response and took a step towards Aelin.

“Aelin?” Nox, the barista who’d worked at the coffee house for as long as any of them could remember, got her attention.

“Yeah?”

“I know you’re leaving tonight, but I just have to tell you. I love you.”

Rowan stood frozen in place, mouth open, as he watched the scene unfold.

“I... I don't know if that changes your plans at all, but I thought you should know.” Nox nodded earnestly.

“Nox, Oh,” She placed a hand on his shoulder, “I love you too. Probably not in the same way, but I do. And, and when I'm in a café, having coffee, I'll think of you.” She kissed his cheek before waving towards the group and leaving the coffee house.

Rowan sat down, meeting the shocked gazes of his friends. “Oh, my gods!”

Lysandra snorted, “Unbelievable!”

"Hey," Fenrys leaned forward, "you know what might help?"

Rowan glared at him and scoffed, "I'm not getting you a muffin!"

***

“We're going to take Asterin to recovery now.” The nurse told Elide and Lorcan as they each held one of their babies.

“Oh wait,” Elide caught Asterin’s hand, “There's something that we want to tell you. We decided to name the girl-baby Asterin.”

She smiled, “Oh, that’s just like my name!”

Elide held in a laugh. It was clear Asterin was either still on some medications or just very, very tired.

“Okay,” the blonde woman said, “I'm gonna go and get some rest. I'm really glad I picked you guys. You're gonna make great parents. Even Lorcan.”

Despite his eye roll, Elide saw the pride and gratitude in Lorcan’s eyes.

“Bye, Asterin.” Elide called as she was pushed out of the delivery room.

“Bye.”

Moving closer to Lorcan, Elide cooed, “Oh look at all their teeny fingers and toes.”

“I know,” he smiled widely, making him look younger, “You ready to trade?”

“Okay!” They tried maneuvering a few different ways but eventually gave up. Switching babies when you only have two hands is not an easy feat. “Alright, let’s see…”

“Maybe later?” he suggested.

“Perfect.”

***

At Elide and Lorcan’s apartment, Lysandra found Fenrys hunched over the coffee table.

“Hey, what are you working on?” She asked, walking into the living room.

He grinned, “It’s a ‘Welcome Home’ sign for the baby.” He held up the large sign which read Welcome Home Baby in red paint beside a funky-shaped red blob.

“Uh,” Lysandra squinted, “Is that supposed to be the baby?”

Fenrys rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “No, I sat in the paint.”

She snorted just as Rowan walked in.

“Hey,” He nodded at them.

“Hey, so did you talk to Aelin?” Lysandra asked.

Rowan ran his hand through his hair and sighed, “No, and I'm not going to.”

“What?” Lysandra asked incredulously at the same time Fenrys jumped up and asked, “Why not?”

Rowan dropped into a seat at the kitchen table. “Because she's just going to shoot me down. You guys saw what happened with Nox.”

Lysandra scoffed and lightly hit him upside the head. “How can you compare yourself to Nox? I mean, sure, he's sexy in a more obvious way.” She smirked as Rowan glared. “You have a relationship with her, you slept together last night. For gods’ sake, you’re Rowan and Aelin! You’re Rowaelin!”

Rowan huffed, standing up, and told her harshly, “Yeah, and she still wants to go! It's pretty clear where her head is at.” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Look, even if I were going to tell her, I don't have to do it now. Okay? I'll be seeing her again. We've got time.”

“Gods, Rowan!” Lysandra tried to make him see reason. “No, you don't! She's going to Paris! She is going to meet somebody. Do you know how many hot guys there are in Paris?”

The door opened before Rowan could get another word in and Aedion strode in carrying a rolled-up paper.

“Hey,” He said as he walked over to Lysandra to kiss her before setting the paper on the table.

“Hey, babe,” Lysandra smiled. “Whatcha got?”

“Oh,” Aedion brightened and unrolled the piece of paper. “I made a little something. If I had more time to work on it, it'd be better, but.” He shrugged, revealing a precisely drawn sign reading Welcome to the World, Baby Lochan.

“Damn, Ashryver,” Rowan nodded appreciatively “that’s really good.”

Fenrys scoffed, still standing next to his sign, and rolled his eyes, grumbling, “You know, the baby can't read, Aedion.”

Lysandra laughed as Aelin opened the door and strode in.

“Hi. You guys, my car just got here,” she said dejectedly. “I can't believe they're not home yet! I have to catch my stupid plane. I wanna see the baby!”

Fenrys spoke up, “Elide called a few minutes ago from the car. She said they should be here any minute. And apparently, there's some big surprise?”

As if on cue, Elide carefully pushed the door open and stepped inside carrying a small baby.

Aelin couldn’t hold in her gasp and none of them tried to hide the misting in their eyes.

“Oh, my gods!” Aelin beamed as she walked to Elide, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, El!” Lysandra gushed, rushing forward.

“So tiny,” Rowan murmured, coming up next to Elide as Fernys and Aedion joined the small group, too.

They turned as they heard another set of footsteps enter, turning to see Lorcan walk in carrying his own small bundle.

“Oh!”

“What the—”

“What?”

“Oh, my gods!”

“Holy sh—”

Five different exclamations happened simultaneously as all their eyes darted between the two babies.

Rowan shook himself and clasped Lorcan on the shoulder, “Okay, awkward question. The hospital knows you took two, right?”

Lorcan glared at Rowan but neither man could keep the grins off their faces as they looked down at the infants.

“Yes, Whitethorn, it’s twins.”

“They’re precious,” Lysandra cooed, making funny faces at the one in Elide’s arms. Aelin, having said hello to that baby, stepped next to Rowan to gaze down at the one Lorcan held.

“This is a boy,” Elide told them, gesturing to the one she held. “And that’s a girl,” she nodded to Lorcan’s.

“Her name is Asterin,” Lorcan told them, not looking away from his daughter’s face.

“Oh, hey, that pregnant lady’s name was Asterin.” Fenrys nodded.

Aedion snorted, “It’s a shame you two didn’t spend more time together.”

Aelin aww’d and patted Lorcan’s arm, the two of them sharing a rare, warm smile.

“The boy we named Cal, after my dad.”

“Oh, you guys,” Aelin whined, “I can't believe this. But I have to leave now, or I'm gonna miss my plane."

“I’m just so glad you got to meet them,” Elide said, watery, pulling Aelin into a hug.

“Me, too,” Aelin told her. “I'm just sorry I'm not gonna be around to watch you two attempt to handle this! Alright, I can't say goodbye to you guys again. I love you all so much.”

I love yous were exchanged and Aelin walked to the door.

“Rowan?” She caught his eye, “come here.”

He nodded and followed her into the hall, shutting the apartment door behind him.

“Rowan, I,” She paused, grabbing his hands and looking into his face with such genuine sadness it made his heart crack and made him want to pull her into his arms and not let go. She took a breath and continued, “I just want you to know, last night...I'll never forget it.”

He cleared his throat, willing the lump in it to disappear. “Neither will I.”

He cupped her cheek and she leaned into the touch. Aelin pulled him in for a hug, holding on tight. When she pulled away, Rowan used every ounce of strength to unwrap his arms from her body, to step away as she walked down the hall and away from him.

When Rowan walked back into the apartment, Lysandra sat next to him and asked, “So, you just let her go?”

Rowan couldn’t reply, he just replayed the last two days over in his head.

“Maybe that's for the best.” Fenrys chimed in, taking up the empty chair. “You know? You just... Look, you gotta... You gotta think about last night the way she does, okay? Maybe sleeping together was the perfect way to say goodbye?"

Lysandra groaned, “But now she'll never know how he feels!”

Aedion walked over and said not unkindly, “Maybe that's okay. You know? Maybe, maybe it’s better this way? I mean, now you can move on. I mean, you've been trying to for so long, maybe now that you're on different continents…”

They kept talking but all Rowan could hear was a buzzing in his head.

“I don’t want to move on.”

He said it quietly but they all stopped talking and looked at him.

“What?” Aedion asked, unsure he heard Rowan correctly.

“I don’t.” Rowan shook his head and stood up. “I want to be with her.”

“Really?” Fenrys asked, excitedly

“Of course really!” Lysandra answered for him.

Rowan kept nodding. “Yeah, I’m gonna go after her. I have to.”

“Yeah, you are!” Lorcan cheered from the living room. Rowan didn’t even have time to find his friend’s enthusiasm funny.

“Finally!” Elide added her own cheer, smiling between Rowan and the babies.

“Come on,” Lysandra urged, standing up and following Rowan to the door. “My car’s downstairs, I’ll drive you to the airport.”

“Okay!” Rowan faced his friends again, “wish me luck!”

A chorus of Good Lucks followed him out the door.

***

“Hey,” Fenrys called excitedly to Lorcan and Eide once Rowan and Lysandra had left, “can I give you guys your house-warming present now?”

The couple shared an amused look before Elide told him, “Now, that you can do.”

“Great! Hang on a minute.” Fenrys left their apartment to walk across the hall to his.

“Okay, my little feather babies where are you?” he muttered as he caught sight of the empty box he’d put them in earlier. “Oh shit.”

He hastily looked in the kitchen, living room, and bedrooms. “Chick Jr? Duck Jr?” he called, running a hand through his hair anxiously. “Don’t hide from mama!”

***

“Lysandra, slow down!” Rowan urged as they almost took out a bicyclist.

She rolled her eyes, “Do you wanna get to Aelin in time?

“Of course I do, but I want to be alive to do it.”

Lysandra huffed at his dramatics but eased up on the gas. Slightly.

Finally arriving at the airport, Rowan and Lysandra rushed past the hoards of people, trying to maneuver their way towards Aelin.

“Rowan!” Lysandra called as he made to run down the hallway. “Where are you going?”

“To talk to Aelin.” Obviously.

“What?” She grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the ticket counter. “What, are you just gonna walk up to her at the gate? Have you never chased anyone through the airport before?”

“Not since the last time I chased the love of my life—no I haven’t Lys!”

She rolled her eyes as she kept dragging him away from the terminals. “You have to get a ticket to get past security, Idiot.”

Oh, right.

“Shit, we’re never gonna make it.” he hissed as they got caught behind the human embodiments of snails on their way to the counter.

***

“Miss, your boarding pass, please.” The gate attendant asked Aelin as she approached.

“Right, of course.” She dug through her purse then frowned, not seeing it. Flashing an apologetic smile to the people behind her, she took her purse off her shoulder and rummaged through it frantically. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The attendant cleared his throat. “Your boarding pass.”

Internally cringing, she put on her most charming smile. “You know, I had it,” she forced a chuckle, “Oh, you wouldn’t believe this—”

He looked unimpressed. “Miss, if you don't have your boarding pass—”

“I have it, I have it! Okay, I don’t have it, but I remember that I was in seat 32C,” she leaned in closer and winked, “because that’s my bra size.”

He sighed again. “Miss, you must have your boarding pass.”

Aelin huffed and stepped out of the line. “Okay, fine! But you know what? If I was in 36D, we would not be having this problem.”

Muttering to herself, Aelin scoured all her bags, finally brandishing the ticket and rushing back to the counter. “Here it is!”

***

Finally getting up to the ticket counter, Rowan slammed down his wallet, demanding, “I need a ticket.”

Lysandra pouted. “Just one? I drive you all the way down here, and I don't get to see how it works out?”

“Fine, fine,” he corrected irritatedly, “two tickets, I need two tickets.”

Lysandra sighed dramatically and leaned into Rowan, giving him her most overexaggerated doe-eyes. “We're on our honeymoon” she stage-whispered to the woman behind the computer.

The ticket agent merely raised a manicured brow and asked, “Destination?”

Rowan already had his credit card ready, “whatever’s cheapest.”

Lysandra sighed again, “I’m so lucky.”

Rowan leveled a glare at her and she tried not to laugh.

Once inside the terminal, Rowan sprinted toward the first departure timetable he could find. “Okay, flight 421 to Paris. I don't see it, do you see it?”

Lysandra stood next to him, eyes scanning the board. “No, did we miss it?”

“No, no, no. That's impossible,” Rowan told her. “It doesn't leave for another 20 minutes.”

“Maybe we have the flight number wrong? Hang on, let me call Elide.”

She stepped aside, impatiently waiting for Elide to pick up her phone.

“Hello?” the new mom answered.

“Hey! It’s me. Here’s Rowan.” Then she thrust the phone into Rowan’s hand.

“Elide, do you—”

“Oh, my gods, Rowan, wait until you hear the cute little noises the twins are making. Listen.”

“What? No, Elide.” Rowan cursed as he heard unintelligible baby sounds. “Elide, Elide, Elide, Elide—”

“Oh sorry,” she said, “They were doing it before.”

“Elide! Listen, please. I need Aelin’s flight information.”

“Oh, sure, hang on.” he could hear ruffling paper as he paced back and forth. “Here it is, it's flight 421. Leaves at 8:40.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, its not on the board.

“Flight 421,” Elide repeated, “leaves at 8:40, Newark airport.”

Rowan froze, his heart sinking. “What?”

“Newark airport.” Elide gasped. “Where are you?”

But she already knew the answer.

“JFK.” he breathed, utterly defeated.

***

If Rowan wasn’t so upset, he would be fearing for his life as Lysandra sped through the streets at breakneck speed.

“Lysandra, forget it, okay? Newark is like an hour away. There's no way we're gonna make it in time.”

“She’s got her phone,” Lysandra braved a glance at him, narrowly avoiding another car, "you could call her.”

Rowan scoffed, “I am not doing this over the phone.”

“You don’t have any other choice!” She insisted before reaching for her own phone and calling Aelin.

It rang once. Twice.

“Hello? Lys?” Aelin’s voice rings out from the speaker and it was like a tether Rowan desperately wanted to hold onto.

“Aelin?” Lysandra answered, relieved. “oh, good. Hey, by the way, did you just get on the plane?”

“Yeah, I did.”

Leaning over, Lysandra hissed, “For what it's worth, we would have caught her if we were at the right airport.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Rowan sniped.

“Uh, Ae, hang on,” she tried pushing the phone into Rowan’s hand but he adamantly refused to do this without being able to look Aelin in the eye.

“Lys? Is everything okay?” Aelin asked, worriedly.

Glaring at Rowan, Lysandra struggled to find a reason for calling. “Uhm, actually no. No, you've...you have to get off the plane.”

“What? Why?” Aelin sounded bewildered.

“I just,” Lysandra sighed, shooting another glare at Rowan, “I have this feeling that something's wrong with it. Something is wrong with the, uh,” she paused again before snapping her fingers and declaring, “with the left phalange.”

“Lys, babe, I'm sure there's nothing wrong with the plane. Look, I have to go. I love you, and I will call you the minute I get to Paris.”

***

On the plane, Aelin hung up the phone only to feel the man beside her tap insistently on her shoulder.

“What was that?” he asked, looking anxious.

“Oh,” Aelin waved a hand dismissively, “that was just my friend. She told me I should get off the plane because she had a feeling that there was something wrong with the left phalange.” She chuckled, sure it was just Lysandra’s way of finding an excuse to talk to her again before the flight took off.

But the man started to fidget. “Okay, that doesn't sound good.”

“I wouldn't worry about it.” Aelin again waved him off, “She's always coming up with stuff like this, and you know what? She's almost never right.”

“But she is sometimes?”

“Well…” Aelin trailed off, thinking about all the things Lysandra has had an intuition about.

Her hesitation was apparently enough to send her seatmate into a tail-spin because he instantly got up and tried to grab his suitcase, only for the flight attendant to stop him.

“Excuse me, sir, where are you going?” The woman asked, curtly.

“I have to get off this plane, okay?” he insisted, then gestured towards a wide-eyed Aelin. “Her friend has a feeling something's wrong with the left phalange.”

He said it loud enough that other passengers began to panic, while Aelin sheepishly shrugged at the annoyed flight attendant.

“There is nothing wrong with the plane, sir.”

He finally got his bag down and cried, “The left phalange!”

The attendant looked incredulously between the man and Aelin, “There is no phalange.”

“Oh my God. This plane doesn't even have a phalange!”

Aelin watched, wincing, as more passengers overheard and insisted they, too, get off the plane. Person after person marched out the aisle and soon Aelin loosed a long breath, “This is ridiculous,” she watched another two people leave. “Yeah, okay.”

Grabbing her own bag, she followed the crowd off the plane.

***

Rowan doubted he’d ever felt as frantic or desperate as he did right now.

He and Lysandra finally made it to Newark, bought another ticket, and raced to Aelin’s gate.

“Where is she?” He muttered, almost pulling out his hair with how forcefully he raked his hands through it.

“I don't see her,” Lysandra answered.

“Aelin!” Rowan shouted, not caring about the stares he garnered. “Aelin Galthynius!”

“Oh!” Lysandra gasped, pointing towards a crowd, “There she is!”

“Aelin!” He yelled again, pushing past people as he tried to run onto the boarding gate.

“Woah,” the gate attendant stopped Rowan, “excuse me, sir, do you have a boarding pass?”

“I just need to talk to someone,” he pleaded.

“I’m sorry, you cannot go any further without a boarding pass.”

“Gods, please, I just need—”

“AELIN!” Lysandra shrieked, getting everyone’s attention including a specific blonde who rushed back out the gate and stood gaping at Lysandra and Rowan.

“Oh my gods,” she looked back and forth between the two before her gaze locked and held with Rowan’s as she breathed, “What—what are you guys doing here?”

“All you,” Lysandra nudged Rowan then made herself scarce

“What? What is it?” Aelin demanded, pulling Rowan aside, “Rowan, you're scaring me. What's going on?”

“Aelin,” Rowan didn’t know where to start. “Okay, the thing is,” he trailed off again. How could he tell that he loved her? How could he wrap up ten years—more than that—of falling in love with her, even at times when he didn’t know it. How could he explain that to her?

“Rowan?”

He took a deep breath. “Don’t go.”

“What?” Aelin asked, shocked.

“Aelin, please, don’t leave. I am so gods damn in love with you. Please, don’t go.”

Aelin stood open-mouthed, her eyes shimmering with an emotion he didn’t dare name. “Oh, my gods.”

He groaned, “I know, I know. I’m an idiot and a bastard, and any other name you want to call me. I shouldn't have waited until now to say it, Hellas, I shouldn’t have waited until now to realize it, but,” he shook his head, locking his gaze with hers. “That was stupid, okay? I'm sorry, I’m so sorry, but I'm telling you now. I love you. I’m in love with you. Please, do not get on this plane.”

“Miss?” a throat cleared behind them, making Aelin blink and drag her watery eyes away from his. “Are you boarding the plane?”

“Aelin,” Rowan took her hand, urging her to stay, “Aelin, please. I know you love me, too. I know you do. Don’t go. Stay.”

“I,” Aelin looked between Rowan and the gate attendant with shock and regret etched across her face. “I have to get the plane,” she whispered.

“No, you don’t.” Rowan held tightly to her hand.

“Yes, I do.” despite her protests, she didn’t pull her hand away.

“No,” Rowan stepped closer, cupping her cheek and reveling in the fact that she leaned into his touch. “You don’t.”

“Rowan,” her words barely louder than a breath, “They're waiting for me, I can't do this right now, I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

He couldn’t understand what was happening. Rowan couldn’t accept that she was walking away.

“Aelin.” he pleaded, one final time.

She took a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry.”

Rowan stood unmoving, felt his breathing freeze and his heart cease beating if just for a moment as he watched Aelin walk away from him and board the plane.

He wasn’t aware of people moving around him or of Lysandra coming to stand next to him before pulling him into a hug murmuring I’m sorry. He wasn’t aware of his surroundings as he walked towards Lysandra’s car or his walk back to his apartment. All he knew was that he’d just watched the love of his life walk away and there would soon be an ocean between them.

***

Lorcan sealed the last box of his and Elide’s things.

“Wow,” Elide sighed, looking around the bare apartment. “Everything’s packed.”

“It’s weird,” Lorcan replied, looking around the space he and their friends had occupied for so many years.

“I know.” She stood on her toes and he leaned down to meet her for a kiss.

“So, uh,” Fenrys spoke up from the kitchen, “does this mean there's nothing to eat?”

Elide snorted while Lorcam tried his best to reign in his smirk. Turning, Elide told him, “I put three lasagnas in your freezer.”

He beamed, “I love you!”

She chuckled as the door opened and Lysandra walked in.

“How’d it go?” Elide asked

“So did you guys make it in time?” Aedion spoke at the same time from his place against the fridge.

“Yeah,” Lysandra sighed, “Yeah, he talked to her, but she got on the plane anyway.”

“Where’s Rowan?” Lorcan asked her, knowing Rowan would be hiding away, brooding.

“He went home,” Lysandra frowned and leaned into Aedion’s embrace. “He didn't want to see anybody.”

***

Sitting on his couch, Rowan noticed his answering machine beeping. More out of muscle memory than an actual urge to listen, he pressed the button.

“Rowan, It’s me.”

Rowan jolted, a mess of emotion flying through him as he listened to Aelin's voice filter through his machine.

“I just got back on the plane. I feel awful. Gods, Rowan, that was so not how I wanted things to end with us.”

End. Rowan braced himself, he had to get through this message.

“It's just that I wasn't expecting to see you, and all of a sudden you're there and saying these things...and now I’m sitting here thinking of everything I should’ve said that I didn’t.”

Rowan heard her take a shuddering breath.

“I didn't even get to tell you that I love you too.”

His breath caught, and hope filled him for the first time since he’d been standing in front of her.

“Because of course, I do. I love you. I love you. Gods, Rowan, I love you.”

He held his breath, he almost couldn’t wrap his brain around what he was hearing, what he’d longed to hear.

“What am I doing? I love you! I need to get off this plane—”

“Oh my gods,” Rowan listened, wide-eyed as he heard Aelin argue with a flight attendant.

“Excuse me? I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, but I need to get off this plane, okay? I need to tell Rowan I love him.”

“Miss, can't let you off the plane.”

“Let her off the plane!” Rowan screamed at his machine.

“Oh, please, you don’t understand. Isn’t there any way you can just let me off—”

Beeeeep.

The message ended and Rowan was left sitting on the edge of his sofa staring disbelievingly at his answering machine.

“No!” He jumped up, carding a hand through his hair, “No! Aelin! Oh, my gods, did she get off the plane?”

“I got off the plane.”

Rowan whirled around so fast he thought his neck might snap. Aelin stood in his doorway, suitcase in hand, staring at him with a watery smile and eyes that blazed with surety.

“You got off the plane.” Rowan breathed and strode towards her, holding her face in his hands as she grabbed his arms, each clinging to the other, not able to let the other go.

Rowan wasn’t sure who moved first, but the next moment he was kissing Aelin, It was as if all the years of pining, love, heartbreak, and friendship, barreled through them and into a kiss full of promise. All the mistakes of the past, all the time wasted, was over. Now, they could finally be Rowan and Aelin. Finally.

When they pulled apart, still unable to let the other go, Aelin leaned her forehead against his and told him, “I do. I do love you.”

Rowan brushed a tear from her cheek and smiled down with all the warmth he could gather. “I love you too, Fireheart. And I’m never letting you go, again.”

“Good," She nodded, gripping him tighter, “because this is where I want to be, okay? With you. Always with you. No more messing around.”

“That’s right,” he agreed, “we’re done being stupid.”

Aelin kissed him again. “You and me, alright?” She looked him in the eye and saw everything she felt mirrored there. “To whatever end.”

“This is it. To whatever end” He echoed, pulling her in for another kiss.

***

The seven of them stood in the now-empty living room of Elide and Lorcan’s apartment. The new parents each held a baby, Fenrys sat with Lysandra and Aedion near the large window, and Aelin leaned into Rowan who had his arms wrapped around her as they stood to the side.

“Wow,” Aelin murmured, looking around the bare space.

“I know,” Rowan said into her hair, “It seems smaller somehow.”

Fenrys glanced at the walls a minute before asking, “Has it always been purple?” His answer consisted of several snorts.

Lorcan and Elide strapped Asterin and Cal into their stroller. Elide sniffed, facing everyone else, “Oh, uh, I promised the landlord we’d leave our keys.”

She said it to Lorcan, but each of them walked toward the counter to place their own keys. Elide laughed, looking at seven pairs of keys to a two-person apartment.

“I guess this is it,” Lysandra commented mournfully.

“Yeah,” Aedion wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “I guess so.”

At Elide’s sniffle, Lorcan pulled her into his arms. Through the fabric of his shirt, they could hear her say, “This is harder than I thought it would be.”

Gathering herself, Elide unwrapped her arms from Lorcan’s middle before turning to hug Aelin who’d come to stand next to her.

“Do you guys have to go to the new house right away?” Aelin asked, “Or do you have some time?”

“We have some time.”

“Okay,” Rowan grabbed Aelin’s hand, “should we get some coffee?”

“Sure,” Fenrys smirked. “Where?”

They all laughed as they walked out of the apartment that had become so important to each one of them. Aedion helped Lorcan carry the double stroller down the stairs, followed closely by Elide. Lysandra and Fenrys were bickering, but smiling as they walked. And Rowan and Aelin had their arms wrapped around each other, not daring or wanting to let the other one go. They shared a smile, and with one last glance at the closed apartment door, they left.

*****

Taglist:

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luimagines · 3 years

Text

He reacts to seeing you Sick/Wounded Part 3

Final part of the prompt below!

Masterlist

First Part Previous Part

Scenario under the cut!

Four

Four starts looking through Wind’s borrowed telescope at the monster below them and tries to search for weak points and guard trails. There’s a good number of them, at least two per person here but they’re closer to the town than anyone anywhere is comfortable with so they have to go.

“AHHHCHOOO!!”

Multiple monsters look in your direction.

“Will you keep it down?” Legend snapped. “Sneeze a little louder next time, I don’t the monsters in the back heard you.”

“I’m not trying to be loud.” You sniffle and furiously wipe your face. “There’s got be something in the air here. I’m not allergic period. This just isn’t like me.”

Four nods in agreement and takes his eyes away from the telescope. He hands it back to Wind, who eagerly takes his spot and makes his way toward you.

In all honesty, you look miserable. And have since that morning.

You’re constantly sneezing, your nose and eyes are red and blotchy and it goes out to cheeks. You’ve been blowing your nose on random leaves since you’ve run out of tissues earlier that day and it continuously seems to be plugged despite it all. You also seem to be shivering ever so slightly but you never made any mention of being cold.

Four frowns to himself and pokes your neck, only to startled into placing his whole hand there. You’re covered in a cold sweat but warm despite the temperature outside.

“What the heck Four?” You knock his hand away and take a step back.

“I think you’re sick.” He blurts with as much grace a bull in a china shop.

“I’m no-” You cut yourself off with a cough this time. It’s so strong that you bend over and fall to your butt on the ground with barely any time in between to catch your breath.

“Benched.” Time turns on his heel and points you back the way you came. “Go back to the town. You’re not fit to fight.”

You whimper after the cough attack and nod, getting to your feet. Four doesn’t like the idea of you going back alone but he knows his friends need the numbers to take the monsters down fast enough, so he doesn’t offer for a moment. He tries to come to a decision before they make any more moves without him but Time speaks again.

“Four. Go with them. Make sure they actually make it to the town.” Time commands and turns to the rest of the group. “We’re going to need fire power.”

Four catches Warrior and Wild grin manically. “Leave it to us!”

“You had to say something.” Four snickers at Twilight misfortune and jogs slightly to catch up with you.

You’re still trying to wipe at your face with your sleeve and it leaves a trail of snot and tears on the fabric.

It’s a bit disgusting....Ok, it’s super gross and it makes Four want to gag somewhat but he’ll let you have it.

Being sick is gross. He’s just got to make sure your clothes are washed when it passes.

“Four?” You call.

He perks up and speeds up to fall in line with your steps. “I’m here.”

You look at him for a moment and sniffle again. “ ’m sorry you got sent back with me. You looked excited to take some monsters down.”

“I’m...” Four looked to the side and tried to find the right words to talk to you. “I mean, I’ll live with it. I’m not that disappointed to be honest. I was thinking of joining you anyway. It didn’t feel right for you head out on your own.”

“But you want to support the others.” You argue. “I could see it. You had to think about it.”

“Ok well-”

“There’s a lot of them out there, isn’t there?” You press and frown to yourself. “A lot of monsters that are going to take all their hands and then some to be taken down and I get sent back and you have to come with me-”

“Ok, hold up.” Four grabs your bicep and shakes it a little. “Slow that down. It’s not like you asked to get sick. I know just as much you do that we’d both rather be up there with them. That’s a given. But you need to take care of yourself as well and I don’t mind being with you anyway.”

You push your mouth to the side and don’t look at him. “I better not get you sick.”

Four snorts ever so slightly and moves his hand from you arm to your hand, lacing your fingers together and swinging them ever so slightly. He knows you don’t want him to see the smile on your face when he does so but it’s your reaction every time.

“While I doubt it’ll happen, you’ll take care of me if I do get sick, right?”

“Always.”

Warrior

They were in a new area this time. Warrior can’t recognize the landscape or the town’s names as they pass so he’s content to let someone else take the lead for a change.

The town’s people had mentioned a sealed temple of sorts that hadn’t been used in ages. Bad things had been happening in the area so they were advised to steer clear.

Naturally they had to go check it out.

Don’t leave no stone unturned and all that jazz.

If anything, it sounds more like a dungeon at this point so he’s a bit excited to get some practice in.

Warrior walks near the front of the group and lets outa whistle when the reach their goal.

It a large dark blue building with three spiraling towers in a triangle-fecta with multiple columns around the front of it, acting as a sort of imposing gate. The columns themselves are full of grotesque monstrous faces, which are realistic enough to cause some discomfort amongst the ranks.

“Oh, we’re going to be here for hours.” Legend groans and tilts his head to the sky. “Maybe even days! Why are here again?”

“To eradicate evil before it grows beyond it’s borders.” Time take a breath and walks forward. “The people are afraid and it’s our job to put an end to it.”

Warrior can agree with that, it’s what the hero does after all. Fine print and all that.

But you make a small whimper from behind him and turns around to see you. You don’t pleased one bit with your arms crossed and your head down. “I don’t like this place.”

Right. Not a Link. This technically isn’t in your job description, unlike them.

“You could wait out here?” Wild offers. Warrior remembers that they’re alike in a away with the lack of experience with dungeons and wonders if maybe either one of them can stay back as well. Surely, they don’t all have to go in, do they?

Sky grins good naturally and punches you gently on your shoulder. “You good?”

“This whole place feels wrong.” You reply. “Do we have to go through there?”

“It’s because it feels wrong that we have to go in.” Hyrule shrugs. “We have to make it better.”

“If we find loot inside, it’s just a bonus.” Wind bounces up to you with grin.

“What’s the problem? Are you scared?” Legend taunts. “Do you need someone to hold your hand?”

“Are you offering?” You snap back.

“He may not be, but I am.” Warrior holds his hand out and smiles at you with as much charm as he can conjure up. He has no idea what possesses him to comment and he hopes that you don’t take offence to it. He wasn’t trying to mock you.

To his surprise, you look at his hand for a little moment longer than he think it’s worth and gently reach out to lace your fingers together.

Your hand is warm and you don’t look at him when he feels you give it a small squeeze. “Ok, let’s go.”

This is not a big deal. He’s not going to make it a big deal.

He just wanted to be a good friend is all. Yeah, that’s all it was.

As the group you all head into the cursed building and are immediately faced with choices.

Five hallways. No end in sight in any of them and no other options.

“Guess we split the party.” Twilight shrugged. “I’ll go with Wind.”

This was first pair off and others started to claim a partner for the journey ahead.

“I guess I already have my partner.” Warrior smiles and begins to walk away. “Should we take the far left?”

“Don’t you know, you never split the party.” You sing under your breath and tug on Warrior’s hand to the beat. “Clerics in the back, keep those fighter hale and hearty. The wizard in the middle where he can shed some light and you never let the damn thief out of sight.”

You’re not paying attention to him.

He chalks it up to your previous nervous energy and takes the lead instead.

The hallway you both travel through is dark and beginning to shrink. the two of you are now shoulder to shoulder and with more time, have to walk in a single file line.

You don’t let go of his hand.

Occasionally there is the lone torch to keep the path ahead illuminated but Warrior thinks that they’re more for decoration and peace of mind than any actual use. You know, considering the vast space of nothing in front of you.

The hallway comes to an abrupt stop and Warrior can feel you crash into his back. Before him a large room with torches on every other wall, eight walls in total, counting the one with the entryway. There’s nothing inside but a single glowing blue ball of light.

It reminds him faintly of Proxy and he steps inside the room to get a better look.

“Will o’ the wisp.” You mutter from behind and stop from entering the room any farther, stopping Warrior as well in the process.

“What?” He turns to you and can see how tense you are.

“Back home,” You begin. “They are known to be by swamps, bogs and the like. They’re supposed to mislead travelers and are used as a symbol of a goal that’s impossible to reach and are typically sinister in nature. What ever you do, don’t follow it.”

Warrior takes the warning to heart, takes a step and returns to your side.

Nothing like Proxy at all.

“What do we do then?” He asks, not taking his eyes off of it.

“I don’t know...” You gulp. “I didn’t even think they’d be here. They’re not known to be fighters... just mess with your head and lead you to your doom.”

On cue, the light shifts and begins to circle the room. Warrior makes a grab for his sword and you copy his movements. The two of you stand back to back and watch it closely.

It flies straight into a wall after a dizzying moment and a door appears where there wasn’t one before.

“That’s it?” Warrior stands down but his grip is tight, on both your hand and his weapon. “Guess that’s the way out.”

“No. What did I just say? Don’t follow it.”

“But it’s gone.”

“It went that way. Don’t go in the same direction.” You stress.

Warrior lets go of your hand and turns to stare at you head on, taking a step back and entering the rest of the room. He goes to open his mouth to reply- but his foot goes lower than he anticipates.

He’s activated something.

You jump as the entryway where you once were, shuts and the torches go out instantly, plunging the whole room into darkness.

“Link?” You call out and Warrior has no idea where you are all of a sudden.

He regrets letting go of your hand.

“Still here.” He chuckles nervous and finishes the sentence with an audible gulp.

The Will o’ wisp returns from a different direction and he hears you scream.

Warrior is quick to reach for Legend’s fire rod and he fires it into the air.

The ball of light leaves but the he’s taken gives just enough light to see what’s happened. You’ve ended up on the floor and somehow took a hit to your head that’s pouring blood all over your face, with a massive skeleton over you, poised to take another hit.

The fire from the rod dies out and the room goes black again.

But at least Warrior knows where you are.

And now he’s pissed.

He fires the rod again right at the monster and feels a vindictive sort of satisfaction when the creature catches aflame. He’s quick to launch the monster away from you and help you up. He passes you the rod, taking a full hold on his sword and stands in front of you.

“Light up the room and monsters, yeah? I’ll finish them off.” He says and drops into a defensive stance.

“Bad things happen with Wips.” You mutter and prepare to fire rod again and instead spin across the floor. Some of the torches relight but it’s clear they won’t last long.

More monsters start to appear from the doors the wisp activates now that the initial key has been set off.

“I’ll listen to you next time!” Warrior finishes the first beast and begin on the next.

“I think I’ll leave the dungeon stuff to the Links. Leave you, your puzzles and your monsters to each other.” You start talking to yourself. “This is no way to make a living.”

“Tell me about it. I didn’t even have these in my Hyrule.”

Hyrule

Hyrule has no clue what he’s was doing.

He could admit that.

He was used to having magic at his disposal and fixing the problem with it. But this? This was a little beyond his pay grade.

He wasn’t even being paid.

“ ‘Rule!” You cry from the bed. You hand is outstretched in an attempt to reach him but he’s too far away from your grasp.

He walks over to your side and grabs your hand. “I’m here. What do you need?”

“Can I have a glass of water?” You grip his hand and he’s hit with a wave of concern when he sees it’s not really that strong.

“Yeah, sure.” He says, getting up. “Give me a minute.”

You smile at him and close your eyes again. He hates how miserable you look. Flushed cheeks and forehead, raging fever, cold sweat running off you in a vain attempt to cool yourself down, you’re shaking and he catches you mumble every now and then but he can’t catch what you say.

Hyrule’s silver lining is that you’ve been mostly asleep through the day, making his job a little easier as nurse and doctor. The most he can complain about is that it’s a little boring.

He still doesn’t know what’s he’s doing.

He had thought that it was something he could handle but but was only within the first hour that he realized he was powerless to help you with anything.

He feels a little useless.

The others had gone out to survey the town they’re cooped up in and get details and equipment.

Hyrule knows himself well enough and has learned enough from the others that he’s pretty much... well, useless in a market. Money isn’t really a concept where he’s from or at least not with the bells and whistles and unwritten rules that everyone else seems to know at the drop of a hat.

On top of that, with Hyrule’s bleeding heart, he had offered to be the one to stay behind and look after you while they were gone most of the day. He figured that if he was the groups healer then he could help you with this too.

Wrong.

Again, he’s thankful you’ve mostly been sleeping.

When he’s retrieved your request and made it back to the room, he stops dead in his tracks at the door.

There’s... something over you. A shadow like blob with no discernable shape, figure or features. The revelation shocks Hyrule into stillness at the idea of you being in danger.

It’s not outwardly hurting you. Just watching.

Or so he thinks anyway.

You still look peacefully unaware of the conscious world and look to be in a deep sleep once more. Meaning, you have idea that this.. thing is here.

Hyrule doesn’t move but he looks around is immediate vicinity. His sword is barely within arms reach and he knows that the step he’s about to take is directly on a squeaky board. It would alert his presence and he doesn’t have anyway of currently fighting that thing.

He crouches down and places your cup by the door frame. He then places is hand just beyond the squeaky board and crawls those few inches to reach his sword.

As soon as it’s within his grasp, he calls on his magic and throws his astral sword in the thing’s direction.

It makes contact, but does no damage.

The shadow mass merely “stands” straighter and stills all movement.

This thing may not have a face but Hyrule is sure that it’s checking him out, assessing him, gauging what kind of threat he might be if he were to attack again.

Hyrule readies himself into a defensive stance and glares right back.

There are no words spoken.

Just as he’s about to charge, it dips down and disappears through the floor boards. The air in room ceases to be charged with unfathomable energy and he knows that it’s gone.

Hyrule is confused and on edge. He’s never seen something like before and he doubts that it’ll help your condition if he asks you or if you would know anything about it.

He straps his sword on his back, just in case, and picks up your cup.

“Link?” You call again, trying to push yourself up into a sitting position. You’re still very weak and very tired and you give up half way.

“I have your water.” He says instead, trying his best to smile for you. He holds it out to you and hopes that you don’t notice that his hands are shaking.

You grin in response and take it, seemingly none the wiser.

You sigh in relief as you sip. “You’re a good friend. Thanks for staying with me. I’m sure it’s been pretty boring when all the others are been productive.”

“I don’t mind one bit. I’ll be here for as long as you need me.” He sits on the bed.

Hyrule continuously has no idea what he’s doing.

But he certainly isn’t going to be bored from here on out.

He has to protect you now, from whatever that was, so he will.

#linked universe x reader #linked universe #linkeduniverse #I started working on this as soon as the previous part was posted #Warrior's got longer than I thought it would #and I'm not too pleased with how Four's came out #but I have no idea how I was going to make it work

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