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lunehong · 1 year

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Black Pirates | Eight

Modern era robin hood ATEEZ X Undercover spy fem OC

ship : ??? X OC

Genre : slowburn, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers

Synopsis : "The world may be unfair but it does not stop us from changing our own fate." Kang Sohyun tries to investigate a group of bandits who are causing havoc in all of Korea. As she gets into close contact with them, her view of them slowly starts to change. "Why do people even hate you?" "If we worried about what people thought of us, we would've all been in a slump of despair by now."

Warnings : none ig

A/n : If anyone wants to be added to the taglist let me know !

Masterlist , Prologue , Chapter one , Chapter two , Chapter three , Chapter four , Chapter five , Chapter six , Chapter seven

CHAPTER 8

It had been three days since the encounter at the museum. Both Jongho and Sohyun stayed home throughout, taking some time away from society to grasp the situation they were in.

The two of them were rivals. One creating chaos and the other one searching for ways to end it, a stark contrast from how their relationship actually was. Joined at the hip since middle school; no matter how much the two ventured out, they always managed to return to each other’s side at the end of the day. A decade worth of memories wasn’t something to be thrown away just like that. They considered each other family and being with one another was natural to them.

These exact causes made it hard for them to accept each other as enemies.

Unable to dispel their inner turmoil, they decided to face each other head-on if needed and deal with the consequences when they presented themselves.

Sohyun was starting to consider herself a good actress for being able to remain as normal as she usually was any other day. She spotted Jongho in the hallways once but was yet to interact with him properly, not that she wanted to anyway.

During their shared break, Jongho parted from his classmates and headed towards the bench that he and Sohyun occupied. The bench was outdoors, overlooking a small garden that the college authorities maintained.

He sat there in silence for a while, wondering if Sohyun ditched him but soon enough, the girl arrived and situated herself on the bench.

The tension between them was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Neither of them initiated any conversation and munched on their chosen snacks. It was like they didn’t know how to approach each other anymore, when previously, they always had something or the other to talk about.

Soon they noticed that the other students who were mingling in the area were starting to pick up on their unusual silence. The two always laughed and spoke out loud, sometimes accompanied by a smack or two in the head or the arms, making them very much noticeable to anyone passing by. So, it was undoubtedly out of the ordinary to see the pair eating quietly.

Not being able to take the deafening silence any longer, Jongho gave in and broke the ice.

“I know we aren’t really on talking terms Sohyun-ah but people are already starting to suspect our demeanour. The reason why we’re both here is so that we don’t raise any suspicions and we’re actually doing a very bad job at it. Can we at least be civil for the sake of the cover?”

“Okay, fine, Jongho-yah. I wasn’t really planning on keeping quiet but I didn’t know what to say.”

Jongho was contemplating on whether he should bring up the sensitive topic or not, but he really wanted some form of clarity regarding the predicament they were in.

“So, who are you working for? If you don’t mind telling me that is,” He asked.

Sohyun took a few seconds to mull over his words, thinking if she should reveal it or not. When Jongho was almost sure that she wouldn’t disclose anything, he heard her sigh and focus her attention back to him.

“NDA.” She spoke up.

Jongho’s eyes went wide in shock but then his expression turned into one of amusement.

“Wow, I- I was not expecting- How did you even get in touch with the NDA of all organisations?”

“I got scouted by someone from the NDA in this cyber convention I was attending a few years back. It was about me catching his eyes or something. I don’t really know why he picked me in particular, but it all worked out at the end I guess.” Sohyun explained. “Okay but when was this though?” Jongho asked while trying to remember anything about her attending a convention.

“Well, you wouldn’t know, because it was during freshman year and you were living with your aunt back then.”

Realisation dawned upon Jongho as he nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“What about you? Why Black Pirates?” Sohyun inquired after telling him her part of the story.

“I wish I could tell you Hyun-ah but I can’t reveal information like this without my captain’s permission. I’m sorry.” Jongho looked down.

“What I can tell you though, is that we don’t have any bad intentions. There was something I wanted to accomplish, planning on carrying it out on my own but I couldn’t go far. However, I came in contact with them instead, completely by accident. I came to know that they had similar goals as me and they were willing to help me out if I helped them back. That’s how I became a part of them.”

Sohyun looked at him, not knowing what to think. She thought she knew everything about the boy beside her, but it was proving to be wrong. Sohyun really wanted to know his reasons but she understood that he had protocols to follow, just like she would have to if she had a permanent team assigned to her at NDA.

“This happened during the time I was living at my aunt’s by the way.” Jongho added, making Sohyun scoff.

“Looks like we both got ourselves into something when we were apart, huh.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, finishing the remaining snacks and enjoying the breeze. There were a few minutes left for the break to end when Jongho spoke up,

“So, was whatever you said to me that day true? Or was it a heat of the moment thing?”

“Hm? No no, it was very true Jongho-yah. It was just me trying to test a theory out and trying to find more intel on you guys that particular day. You’re lucky that I’m not entitled to the agency as of yet, or else they would’ve surely kept tabs on me and my whereabouts, like they do with full-time members. But the next time I go on a mission to capture the Black Pirates I will not hold back, even if it’s you. I’ve been clear about that. Until and unless I find that whatever everyone is saying about you guys is fake and you guys are actually not dangerous, I will not be generous.” Sohyun got up.

“The person you’ll face on the field would be Agent Kang Sohyun, not your best friend.”

“Fair enough.” Jongho got up with a sigh. “I’ll keep that in mind, Sohyun-ah. But I hope our involvement with opposing organisations will not impact our relationship outside.”

“Not that I can stay away from you anyway, Ho-yah” She called him by his nickname making him crack a smile. “Unless I’m on your captain’s hitlist and you’re on my team’s, we’re good.” Sohyun smiled.

The two made their way back to their respective classes with smiles on their faces. They were relieved that their secrets won't create a rift between them, even if it was momentary.

While Sohyun and Jongho were busy paying attention to each other, they failed to notice a mysterious figure keeping an eye on them from the shadows.

After everything they heard, the figure went on his way while creating a plan in his head– a plan to bring Kang Sohyun down.

Next chapter

Tags : @wooyoos @jwnghyuns @starillusion13

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waywardrose · 9 months

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THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 16

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

5.4k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs

fem/witchy/goth!reader, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, consensual pursuit and capture, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, angst with a happy ending, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird?

Weird weird?

He shrugged. He liked weird.

In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: Montaging our way to spring break! Wee! (Also, pardon the lack of updates. I’ve been sick.)

Angry faces obscured your view. A wordless cacophony of voices drowned out all other sounds. Hands like shackles clasped your arms. Broken blacktop and brick-dust riddled the ground under your bare feet. You fought to escape, but there were too many restraining you. Your heels scraped raw and skin bruised as you thrashed.

Like a shoal of fish distancing themselves from a predator, the mob parted for those dragging you. You tried to make eye-contact with anyone, yet no one really saw you. Their indistinct yells were neither protests nor cheers, only primal noise.

Dry heat and the sharp smell of electricity permeated the air the farther your captors pulled you. It made the hairs at your nape stand on end.

Your alarm clock beeped.

You batted around your nightstand until hitting the snooze button on the clock.

It was just before six AM. Tuesday. Still dark. School started in almost two hours.

School meant putting on a veneer of indifference. Truthfully, heading downstairs to breakfast meant putting on a veneer of indifference. Your parents didn’t know Eddie had only called once in the two and a half weeks since you’d given him your new number. No one at school knew what he meant to you.

You went through your morning routine without thought. Your parents chatted over scrambled eggs and toast. Mom was heading into work with your father today. There were calls to make, notes to take, and documents to file. They wouldn’t be home until after five. You could impersonate Mom and excuse yourself from school, but you’d done that last week.

You had a quiz in Spanish class today, anyway. You didn’t want to explain to Senora Richmond before the next class why you needed a make-up quiz — en Espanol, no less.

You didn’t know how to translate: Sorry, my kinda boyfriend ditched me because his music styling was changing and my poor lil heart couldn’t take it.

By the time you arrived at school, darkness had given way to a marigold sun. The honey-colored horizon faded to silvery blue in the flat sky. It looked warmer than it felt.

The morning went by as you expected. The Spanish quiz wasn’t as difficult as you’d prepared for. You kept yourself busy during lunch to fill the usual emptiness. Eddie didn’t attempt conversation before American Government, which sucked more than you’d anticipated.

Your bleeding feet left streaks of crimson on the cracked concrete. Despite your pleas, your captors dragged you closer to the scorching heat. Otherworldly electricity snapped and sizzled over the roar of the crowd—

And when they parted, you screamed.

You jolted across the bed, breathless and disoriented. Nothing hurt. It was dark. Your heartbeat banged in your ears. Harsh sunlight filtered around the window blinds. The neck of your nightshirt clung to your damp skin.

It was the same dream you’d had days ago. You could rationalize a bad dream once, but not a second time. Maybe this was a third time? Something about the details...

You shook your head and turned on the bedside lamp.

It was just after ten AM. Sunday. Mom would serve breakfast soon.

You took your diary from the nightstand to record what you’d seen. Halfway through, Mom knocked on your door, announcing food was ready. You launched from the bed and called back you’d be down in a minute. Your rumpled, sweat-ringed shirt spoke to the contrary, but whatever.

With a quick change, you scurried downstairs. Sunday Morning played on the small kitchen TV. The scent of coffee and browning sausage patties filled your nose. Maple syrup, butter, and a platter of steaming pancakes waited buffet-style on the counter.

After everyone settled at the table, your father announced he would be in Louisville next weekend for an investor conference. Mom nodded along, asking if she needed to have his car serviced. She sounded like his secretary, which she’d been before you were born. She’d been his “girl.” In most respects, she still was. Their dynamic made you never want to marry. You didn’t want to be some man’s assistant, you wanted a partner.

Your father replied he would rent a car instead. It was easier to deduct tax-wise. Mom agreed before taking a dainty sip of her coffee.

Conversation tapered off as Face the Nation recapped the past week’s events. Your father focused on the show while chopping a wedge from his pancake stack.

Mom turned to you and said, “How about we have a girls’ weekend?”

Her kind yet serious expression put you on high alert. She hadn’t offered an expression like that since she broke the news of the move. Syrup dripped from the bite of pancake on your fork.

“Uh, sure,” you said oh-so suavely.

Everything was under control. Situation normal. Everything was perfectly alright now. You were fine. You were all fine, here, now, thanks.

She smiled what you’d referred to as her beauty-pageant smile. It was the one she used as a genial mask.

“We’ll rent a few movies and eat pizza!” she said. “How about facials? Mani-pedis?” She set her mug on her placemat. “A salon visit? Maybe a stop by that boutique on Main? Oh, I know, I’ll make a list!”

She stood before you could answer.

Eddie knew he couldn’t afford to skip American Government like he had been. O’Donnell was such a hardass about homework, proper grammar and complete sentences on tests, class participation, and attendance.

She abhorred his long hair and ripped jeans. Hell, last year she’d sent him to the office before Homeroom for the patches on his battle vest. Her nose curled when she addressed him, as if he stank. Which he did not, thank you very much. He showered and wore deodorant every day.

However, he’d much prefer to lie on the couch while eating spray cheese from the can instead of facing the world. Which was pathetic, and he’d rather not have anyone know. Not even Wayne, but especially not you.

Jesus Christ, he’d fucked up so bad. As per usual.

You hadn’t glanced at him when the semester started. It was more than you ignoring him. You didn’t notice him anymore. Or like you’d seen the real him and didn’t find him worth the effort.

That hurt like a bitch.

That was karma, he guessed. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t agree with the adage that karma was a bitch. No, karma was a virgin. Karma teased and hinted and strung him along. Karma gave him metaphorical blue balls.

He could have this little good thing, but it would cost him a bigger, better thing that he wouldn’t know the existence of until it was ripped away. Like getting a mediocre handy, then finding out after he’d come he could’ve been balls deep in the slickest, hottest, tightest hole in the universe.

Except, this time he’d given himself the handy.

He made a face at the wording. Luckily, he was alone in the Auto Tech garage. He switched positions on the workbench stool and stared at the Music Theory worksheet he needed to finish by tomorrow morning.

He kept recalling how your gaze had met his during the previous class. Your expression went from neutrally attentive to goddamn miserable. He wanted to drag you from the classroom to apologize and explain better. Explain in a way you’d understand and was coherent. It all made sense in his head, where he was eloquent and astute, but his words came out all wrong. He sounded one evolutionary step away from a proto-neanderthal, a caveman, an idiot.

All he could think of was your misery. He’d done that. He hadn’t kept trying. He let you remain miserable.

So, yeah, he’d wanted to drag you from the classroom and kiss your misery away. He wanted to take you home, play his new compositions for you, prove to you the time apart was productive.

Maybe he should record a few on the boombox — if it had the right input jack. Then he could write a letter. He was better on paper, anyway. He was an experienced dungeon master and storyteller. He was eloquent and a fast-thinker during sessions. It stood to reason he could translate those skills to a fucking letter—

“Munson,” said Mr. Thompson, the Auto Tech teacher.

The main door clunked shut. He whirled around to face Mr. Thompson, who raised an eyebrow at him.

“Hail, car-lord and master!” he said with an innocent smile and raised hand.

The corner of Mr. Thompson’s lips curled before he shook his head.

“If I catch you in here again before the bell, I’m taking you to Higgins.”

Eddie saluted, while thinking of the next warm place he could hide during fifth period.

“Understood, sire.”

Mr. Thompson waved it off and headed for his locked office.

“This isn’t a study hall, son, get off your duff and help me wheel the tool chests out.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mom said, “—And this is my daughter,” as you stopped next to her at the front counter of Family Video.

On the other side, the clerk blushed deeper.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” He gave you a startled smile. “Nice to meet you.”

You replied with a ‘hey’ and set the three VHS cases in front of him.

The clerk was cute. Actually, he was downright pretty with thick golden-brown hair, a perfectly symmetrical face, and big brown eyes. The preppy polo shirt worked with his broad shoulders and tapering torso. He looked like someone your father would approve of, despite working at a chain video rental store. Unlike certain unemployed musicians who sold drugs and drove a rusty van that screamed ‘stranger danger.’

You tried to keep the bitter thought from your face.

“I hope you found what you were looking for,” said the clerk, glancing between you and Mom.

In nearly a purr, Mom said, “And then some.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Was Mom flirting with this dude? You gave her a quick look. Her grin was on the seductive side. Her body had loosened, shoulder and opposite hip tilting.

The clerk’s expression turned coy as he checked the cases.

“I’m so glad to hear it.” He winked before logging the tapes into the system. “We’re running a special this weekend, so that’ll be six dollars.”

There was no sign advertising such a special.

You focused on the candy display to your left to distance yourself, because you didn’t know what the hell you felt. It was cool to get a discount. It was not cool to watch your mother flirt with someone half her age. And you knew the clerk would remember this interaction for weeks to come, too, so you’d have to return the tapes via the slot by the door. There was no way you’d show your face in here until summer.

Once the clerk slid the cases across the counter, you took them and nudged Mom with an elbow. She tittered at something the clerk said.

Under your breath, you said, “Oh my fucking god.”

Mom bid him a good night. He replied something along the lines of the two of you having a better one. It was an opening to continue to flirt, or invite him over, or return at closing. She touched his wrist as she thanked him and then sashayed to the front doors.

You followed her, hoping to block his view. He couldn’t afford the lifestyle she’d become accustomed to, anyway, and you certainly didn’t want a stepfather who was maybe four years your senior. With a peek over your shoulder, you found him watching regardless.

She held the door for you, all gracious and smiling. She glowed as if she’d just returned from the spa. You rolled your eyes when you passed her. She remained quiet until you both were in the car.

“Well, he was a nice young man,” she said as she started the engine.

You laughed, sounding a touch hysterical.

She asked, “What?”

“‘Nice’? Really?” You pulled the seatbelt across your body. “He was practically propositioning you.”

“Oh, pfft!” She flicked a hand out. “That meant nothing.”

“He probably thinks you’re a single mom looking for a good time.”

She giggled as she latched her seatbelt. “I doubt that.”

“I don’t.”

She made a face, though her amusement was palpable.

“I’m going to tell Dad,” you said to tease her.

She gasped while reversing from the parking spot.

“You wouldn’t!”

“Why not?” You smiled and bit your lip. “It meant nothing, right?”

Taking on a faux-haughty air, she said, “Fine, tell him. He’ll be proud of the discount.”

You laughed a drawn-out ‘oh-ho.’ “Three whole dollars!”

“Which I will be spending on you tomorrow.”

“Hush money. Nice.” You nodded. “I’ll keep your new boy-toy a secret, Mother-dearest.”

“Why, thank you, darling daughter.”

The crowd parted as the heat grew. You turned your face into your shoulder, squeezing your eyes closed. You couldn’t look. This couldn’t be happening. They were going to burn you at the stake. This couldn’t be happening. They’d discovered you were a witch. This couldn’t be happening. They feared you. They hated you.

Were there others? If you opened your eyes, would you see charred remains?

Skin burned away in blackened lumps. Eye sockets empty. Mouths open in eternal torment.

Someone yelled, “Throw the bitch!”

You opened your eyes. This was happening.

People from the crowd dragged ends of a barbed-wire barrier apart. Beyond lay a chasm glowing orange-red, like the mouth of a volcano. They weren’t burning you at the stake, they were hurling you into the center of the Earth.

You fought anew, twisting and kicking and pulling. New hands grasped at your arms. Someone fisted your hair and shook your head. You gritted your teeth, daring them to get closer.

Golden lightning arced from the chasm. You gasped, eyes going wide. Goosebumps swept over your body in one shivering wave.

The chasm didn’t lead to the center of the Earth. It was something different, something unnatural. The chasm became a gaping maw. It was going to swallow you, reduce and destroy you. There was nothing you could do to stop it. Your magic remained too mundane.

“You’re doomed, cursed, forsaken,” you whispered. “You shall never find peace. You’ll never know victory.” Your fingers strained claw-like towards the ground as you called energy to you. “You’re condemned with me, you pathetic motherfuckers.”

One of your captors smacked the back of your head.

“Shut up.”

“No, fuck you! Let me go!” You thrashed and growled. “No!”

A gentle hand shook your shoulder. You flinched from the touch. It didn’t belong. Soft words pulled at your attention. They didn’t belong, either.

“Wake up!”

Your eyes snapped open. It was night. Friday. You were in your dark living room, snuggled in the sofa’s corner under a throw blanket. A figure blocked the flickering TV in the corner. You blinked a few times before everything came into focus. The figure was Mom. You were safe.

The greasy pizza box lay on the coffee table. Your mouth vaguely tasted of spicy pepperoni.

Mom softly said, “Hey, you’re okay.”

You nodded and uncurled your legs to sit up.

She backed away to click on the nearest lamp. You closed your eyes at the light.

The TV went quiet.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked.

Scrubbing hands over your face, you said, “No, it was just a dream.”

A dream which you’d been keeping at bay with a bowl of new crystals and stones by your bed. Unfortunately, it seemed their reach was limited. You would need to purify and charge everything tomorrow. And perhaps order a necklace to wear at night. Onyx could work. Maybe obsidian? Jasper?

“Pretty bad one, I’d say.”

You shook your head to concentrate on the conversation. Your mind felt wrapped in cotton wool.

“No, it— I mean, I guess?”

“Well, it’s no wonder with the SATs in a few weeks.” She sighed. “Aren’t midterms soon?”

“Uh, kinda? In March?”

She hummed as though you’d confirmed some suspicion of hers. “I’ll keep your father off your back. I know he’s been a bit much.”

You made a face, because, oh yeah, he’d been a bit much all right. He’d been bugging you about school at breakfast and dinner. He asked after your SAT prep as well.

Mom chuckled, saying, “He really wants you to do well on your SATs.”

“I do, too.”

“I’ll tell you a little secret: you’re doing better in school than he ever did.”

“Really?”

“Yup! His grades were so-so, and he only got into Columbia because his guidance counselor was an alum.”

“No way.”

She nodded.

“His father was friends with people on the admissions board, too.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well...” She shrugged. “He likes to think of himself a self-made man, but...” She shook her head. “Between his father and his cronies, the frat brothers, he wouldn’t be where he is now.”

“How did you find out all this?” you asked.

She gave you a knowing look.

“People like to talk to me.”

Glacial wind outside had driven most students into the cafeteria for lunch. Warmth from the additional bodies and the kitchen steam-tables fogged the windows. The air smelled like a meatloaf TV dinner, making Eddie’s stomach rumble.

“So, what are you and your ladylove doing on Valentine’s?” Gareth asked before taking a swig of his milk.

Eddie frowned at his half-empty baggie of baked cheese bites and purloined Mountain Dew. Valentine’s Day was Friday. He hadn’t spoken to you in too long. Honestly, he’d lost his nerve when the boombox didn’t have the right input jack to record his new stuff properly. The boombox’s built-in mic sucked. Everything had sounded like crap.

He hadn’t thought there was a point in writing a letter without proof of creation. It would be a hollow gesture at best and, at worst, look like a desperate attempt for your attention. You were already pissed at him. He didn’t want you losing respect for him, too.

“Nothing,” he said.

“What? Why?” asked Gareth.

“We’re paused.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means we’re paused, man. I told her I needed space.”

“You what?” Jeff asked the same time Gareth exclaimed, “No!”

Dougie’s rounded eyes said everything as Dustin coughed around a mouthful of peas and carrots. Mike narrowed his eyes in irritation at Eddie while he thumped a hand on Dustin’s back.

“It’s for us!” Eddie said to Gareth. “We’re practicing more, right? Writing more. We’re getting better.”

“But you let that-that... That babe go?” Gareth asked.

“I mean, not exactly? I said it was only ‘til the Battle of the Bands.”

Pointedly, Jeff said, “In April.”

“Yeah, in April.”

“A lot of shit can happen between now and April.”

“Yeah, like someone else snatching her up,” Mike said.

“She’s not a shirt at the thrift store, dipshits.”

Gareth said, “Uh, no, she’s probably one of the coolest girls in this school,” and threw the last bite of his dinner roll at Eddie.

It hit him square on the forehead.

“King Dipshit.”

He sat by the bedside phone and couldn’t stop his knee from bouncing. His bedroom was too cold. He’d forgotten to remove the A/C unit from the window. He could wrestle it out now.

He stood.

It took him and Wayne to install it, though. There was no way in hell he’d be able to uninstall it by himself. He didn’t need to drop an A/C unit from his window on a Thursday evening.

God, this was such bullshit, he thought. Valentine’s Day was such bullshit.

You probably didn’t care about it. He’d never given it a lot of thought. Other than the discounted candy the day after, of course. Maybe he should rent My Bloody Valentine and get high tomorrow. Surely, there was time to pop by Family Video before practice.

He turned to the nightstand to retrieve his wallet and keys.

There was the phone. Sitting there. Waiting. Judging him.

Was it a dick move to call? He didn’t want to hurt you. He sat on the bed and lifted the receiver. He only wanted to hear your voice and catch up a little. With a sigh, he dialed your number.

He didn’t want you — or the relationship with you — to be a fond memory. He didn’t want to look back on this time and sigh wistfully. He wanted to keep making memories with you.

He couldn’t make memories if he stayed silent.

“Hello?”

“I don’t want you to be a memory.”

It was quiet for a beat.

“What?”

“I— Uh... Sorry. It’s me, Eddie.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Okay, yeah, good.” So eloquent, Dungeon Master. He rested his forehead on his hand. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Can you talk?”

“Yeah, I can talk.”

“What were you doing?”

“Reading.”

“Reading what?”

“The House on the Strand.”

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s it about?”

You sighed. “Eddie, what do you want? What do you mean, you don’t want me to be a memory?”

“I was thinking about us. About you. I don’t want to be nostalgic about you.”

“Okay...?”

“I don’t want to lose you, is what I’m saying. I don’t want to look back at this year and think about how great you were. I want to know how great you are.” He gnawed on his lip. “You know what I mean?”

You sounded hoarse as you said, “Yeah, I think so.”

“And I...” He combed at his bangs. “Look, I know my actions aren’t matching up with that shit, but...” His finger snagged in a tangle. “I’m working and practicing every damn day. When I’m not at school, I’m practicing and writing. When I’m not doing that, I’m making money.”

“And sometimes you play D&D.”

He grinned for a second, rubbing at an eye. It was good to hear you tease.

“Look, I’m a total fuck-up, I know—”

You cut him off, voice thick, “No, you’re not.”

“I fucked us, though. I fucked us. I know I did.” He scoffed at himself. “It’s the Munson Doctrine: Everything that can fuck up will fuck up.” He shook his head and cleared the sudden strain in his throat. “But I’m gonna unfuck us. Me and the guys are going to win in April, and you’re going to be there, and we’ll graduate and leave this stupid town.”

You sniffled.

Shit, he made you cry.

His chest tightened as his eyes grew hot with empathetic tears. He couldn’t make his voice work. If he tried, it would break. Then he’d sound like he was going through puberty again. That shit was bad enough the first time.

After a minute, your creaky voice asked, “Have you heard Metallica’s new single?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Y-yeah, I preordered the album.”

You wetly sniffed.

“You’ll have to tell me if it’s any good.”

“If you want, you can come over after school.” He rested his forehead in his hand again, certain he’d chosen the wrong thing to say. “Only if you want, of course. No pressure.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He nodded as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Yeah, definitely the wrong thing.

“Yeah, of course, you’re right. I’ll make you a copy.”

“It’s not like I don’t want to, but...”

“No, I get it. I said a pause, and that means no home visits.”

“You know, our pause doesn’t mean you should skip O’Donnell’s.”

He played with a fray in his jeans.

“Eddie, I’m serious. She takes points off.”

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow.” He shrugged. “See if she’ll give me extra credit.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

“Yeah, I need her class to graduate.”

With a grin in your voice, you said, “Use those pretty eyes of yours.”

A flash of tingling warmth brought a smile to his face.

“Stop...”

“Be your charming self, honey. How could anyone resist you?”

His cheeks heated, and stomach swooped. He couldn’t find a decent retort. All he wanted to ask was if you were beginning to forgive him. However, he knew that would spoil the conversation. But oh, how he wanted to know.

“You got me blushing.”

“I know.”

He groaned and collapsed to the side. Your answering giggle killed him. Utter devastation with no survivors. He wished he could see your smile, how your eyes sparkled. It would make his death worth it.

“Are you doing anything tonight?”

“Well, no... I mean, I finished my homework.”

“I’m practicing with the guys—” He checked the bedside clock. “In about an hour.”

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready, then?”

“Probably.” He gnawed at his bottom lip. “You wanna hang out? Hear some of our new stuff? Gareth’s got a heated garage...”

You breathed deep.

“Eddie... I can’t. The last time...”

He vividly remembered the last time you saw him play. You’d been so sexy. He remembered your skirt and your pantyhose — which he’d ripped to get at you — your smeared lipstick and the way it tasted. He remembered the clutch of your sweet pussy and how it pulsed around his dick when you came. Your thighs had squeezed his waist. You’d pulled his hair and grabbed his ass.

He went hot, with his dick at half-mast, just recalling those disjointed details now.

“No repeat performance?”

“Don’t get me wrong. I love watching you and the guys play...”

“But...?”

“But I don’t trust myself.”

His pelvis flexed forward as the heaviness between his legs increased. The fine cotton of his boxers rubbed at his cockhead. He tempted you. You wanted him as much as he wanted you. If you were beside him with your dark-headshop scent and soft skin, confessing that in his ear, he’d nut.

He whispered, “Jesus,” voice sounding strained.

“Yeah.”

“Sorry about this shit.”

He wanted to end the pause, offer it up like a sacrifice. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said the band was practicing and writing more. They had a good chunk of five more original songs in the bag. They’d all agreed to buy Master of Puppets and attempt to cover one of the songs. The album wouldn’t be out until next month, though, and currently the album’s songbook had no release date.

Your smile was evident in your voice as you said, “You’re just sorry you won’t be fucking me behind, like, Gareth’s garage.”

“Well, yeah, I’ll fuck you anywhere you’ll let me.”

He realized too late his tone had been too sultry to be playful.

The smile was gone from your voice. “Eddie, don’t, please.”

He leaned into the sultriness, because he might as well.

“Hey, don’t forget my offer from New Year’s.”

“How could I forget?”

“You think about it?”

“Like I’m answering that.”

He rolled onto his back to palm his crotch.

“I do.”

After a breathless moment, you asked, “What do you think about?”

“Having to fuck you on the floor to keep your parents from hearing.” Yeah, he’d like you bouncing on his lap, reverse cowgirl. He’d play with your tits. “Covering your mouth with my hand because you’re too loud.” He squeezed the base of his dick. “I like the way you sound, by the way, like making you come. Like having your bite-marks and scratches on me the next day.” He grinned. “You know, after Halloween, I had little bruises on my ass.”

“No way.”

“Yep, little fingertip bruises. You grabbed me good.”

“Sorry?”

“I’m not.”

You hummed, amused.

The sound shot heat to his groin. He teetered on the edge of sweating. And unzipping his jeans. And asking you to talk about anything. Read the fucking phonebook, talk to him about your math homework, he didn’t care.

However, he didn’t want to prove you right by only calling when he couldn’t stand jacking off alone.

“Well, since you have practice tonight, I’ll let you go.”

“Yeah, I need to pack the van. Maybe change clothes.”

“Gonna wear those tight jeans again?”

“Only if you promise to come.”

“I can’t, honey.”

He nodded.

“I know, sweetheart. I get it.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow in class.”

“Absolutely.”

“Tell me how it goes tonight.”

“You got it.”

“Okay, I—” You breathed. “Okay, tomorrow.”

“Night, baby.”

“G’night. Have fun.”

Your end of the line clicked as you hung up. He dropped the phone’s handset in its cradle. He had around fifteen minutes before he had to leave. That was enough time. He undid his jeans, maneuvered his aching dick from his boxers, and spat into his palm.

The barbed-wire barrier parted like a grisly curtain. The mob on the other side of the barrier roared. Pebbles bit into the soles of your feet as you thrashed in your captors’ hold. Ahead, the chasm awaited. Its heat dried your eyes and baked your skin. A fist in your hair kept your face forward. Like you could look away.

Arcs of lightning crackled from the chasm, charging the air. The hair on your arms and head stood on end.

You cursed everyone. Let the universe feel your rage. Let it ripple out, like a stone thrown in a pond. The ground trembled. Your vengeance would ruin the world. If they threw you into that ravenous, scorching maw, your body might be destroyed, but not your spirit. They’d never know peace — just like you wouldn’t. They’d be condemned with you.

One of your captors hit the side of your head and ordered you to shut up.

You thrashed anew, growling insults.

Another captor kicked the back of your knees so the others could drag you easier. You lashed out and caught one of them in the ankle. That one stumbled, yet continued the relentless march forward. You were hit again before they wrenched your head back.

Would they slit your throat now?

You closed your eyes to the black clouds obscuring the morning sky. A helicopter’s blades beat in the distance. Those onboard weren’t coming for you, though. They were leaving you behind. You weren’t worth saving with your powers so reduced.

Useless witch, you heard. Pointless. Worthless. Broken. You deserved to be culled.

You’d let him in, let him take from you, let him drain you. He’d grown more powerful, near unstoppable, because of you. It was all your fault. Your good intentions had paved this road to Hell.

Hands took hold of your legs and hoisted you into the air. The bloody wounds on your feet burned in the dry heat. You writhed and screamed on instinct.

The mob returned your screams tenfold. You turned your head to see all their faces now expressionless save for their open mouths. Their eyes were seared like the clouds above.

It was too late to cast one last spell. Someone already had — and it had been him. He watched from every eye aimed at you. It was too late to save you, too late for salvation, and too late for revenge.

Your voice died in your throat. You choked on hot air. Any strength you had abandoned you. Tears rolled over your temples and into your hair. The ground trembled once more as if to knock your captors off-balance or close the chasm. It was a last, futile attempt to save you, which you silently thanked it for.

Your captors’ hands left your arms and legs as you soared into the air. Heat singed your back, then your feet, then your front. You hovered above the chasm for a silent second. Lightning extended out to welcome and change you. It danced over your skin to make you like itself: blazing, charged, and brilliant.

It drew you into the glowing orange rift and buffeted you between walls of molten rock. Electricity criss-crossed around your body. You fell and fell and fell, twisting and spinning, until it didn’t feel like falling at all. The lightning turned red as the walls, like lava fields, moved around you. Lava fields became dark, billowing clouds became tempests of ash.

Watery screeches came from behind you. Before you could question if something had followed you or spotted you between the swirls of ash, tiny knives bit into your legs, your back, your neck. With your vision obscured and sense of direction gone, you cried and flailed. Leathery wings beat at your face and arms. Hot, thick liquid trailed down your skin to soak your clothes.

Ours, they said.

No, you replied. Mine.

Ours.

You understood then: these creatures were yours. They were of you. They bit to drain you of weakness. They’d show you how to fill yourself with strength.

You stopped fighting them and surrendered—

And opened your eyes.

FYI: I've read kambaba jasper under your pillow helps with nightmares and/or night terrors. Evidently, you can also meditate with it before bed to protect your sleep.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

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misschifuyu · 3 years

Text

To choose a lover

requested here

characters: ran haitani + rindou haitani

genre: fluff

warnings: none

Giggles and whispering comments were passed around, giddiness present in the voices that spoke out just a few metres away from you.

As much as you tried to focus on the tiresome work that was splayed out on the piece of paper before you, it was completely futile to drown the girls out.

It didn't take a genius to know what they were talking about. The school you were all under had the privilege - if one could even consider it as such - to hold two infamous students.

The Haitani brothers.

Whilst the eldest was in his final year, the younger still had another year under this roof until he followed in his brother's footsteps.

But there was really nothing to dislike about going to class when one had a literal fan group who's main topic was always them.

There were girls who preferred Ran, with his signature braids that they always wished they could undo for him; and others that would always fawn over Rindou's cocky ways and stubbornness, trying to catch his attention wherever he went.

The current conversation, however, wasn't just fixed on talking about their aspects.

Far from it. Sending each other questionable looks and making fun of those on the other side of the opinion, they were discussing who, out of the two brothers, was better.

Those on Ran's side had the advantage of saying that he was older, therefore more responsible and willing to take care of anyone.

Sure.

He would make the perfect husband, some were proclaiming. But...the youngest would always want to show that he is the strongest, the more dependable one, as a result of the inferiority that had always hung with him since they were young.

It wasn't that he was, he just hadn't pushed himself to be known as much as his brother had done all those years back.

Needless to say, it was an argument that would never see an end. At least not until the two left the school behind and continued up to wherever the future would take them.

It was amusing, from your point of view, to hear all of these discussions. For years now you had known the two, as close friends who had grown up on the same street, so you knew everything that there was to them, right down to what they actually did when they said they were studying.

Definitely something that the girls would be pushed back by if they ever found out.

But, if it really came down to it, you probably wouldn't be able to pick one out of the pack that they came in, either.

They both had their merits and faults, and, truth be told, neither of the two were that much of a pleasure to be around with, as much as their fans would beg to differ.

One thing was for sure, though. It had come into the light when the three of you had been hanging out one afternoon, without much else to do.

You had asked the youngest about what he thought about his notorious lower level when it came to comparing him with his brother.

It had simply been a spur of the moment, and you hadn't expected him to actually give a sorrowful response.

He was well aware that he was viewed as the weaker brother of the two, and as much as he'd try to prove otherwise, it had always been something that would eat away at him.

Naturally, both you and Ran had jumped to convince him that he was far from a weak person.

The fact that he was viewed as such meant nothing at all when it came down to the reality of what he was, and that there was no point in even listening to those ignorant - and frankly, irrelevant - opinions about himself.

At the end of the day, although you would never openly admit it near the oblivious fangirls, you held a considerable amount of affection towards the two of them.

Of course, they had their odd moments in which you only wished to hit them around the head with Ran's metal bar; but, all in all, they would always be your childhood friends.

So choosing between them was simply out of the question.

Both of them held an equal importance to you, so when a peculiar feeling started growing for one of them, you quickly averted it so it would be felt for the two, whatever it were to be.

They were two peas in a pod, and you weren't about to change this because of a measly crush.

However, the thought would only bug you more whenever you were all together. Such as the current situation, sat right between the two of them on the comfort of their couch.

Before even coming over, you had mentally ordered yourself to disregard the ridiculous thoughts that had flooded your mind.

The girls back at school hadn't help with the problem one bit, if anything they worsened the conflictive feelings; and now you were to spend the afternoon with the two.

One could only think that all odds were against them in such situations.

Head resting on Ran's shoulder, legs atop Rindou's, your eyes were fixed onto the screen before you. The reasoning behind spending the afternoon together was the airing of your favourite show.

However, you were now racking your brains over what you were supposed to do after the series ended. Watching a movie was the prime option, but you figured they would want to move from the couch and do something else.

And the two were very talkative, so you would have to, inevitably, push everything in your mind aside to prevent from even giving the smallest hint surrounding your thoughts.

Your stiffness didn't go unnoticed, and, soon enough, you felt a hand on your leg, startling you in an instant.

"What the hell is up with you today, Y/N?"

Rindou had lost all attention for what was playing on the screen, and it looked to be as though he had for a bit now. This meant he had felt your change of attitude well before he had actually asked about it.

"What? No, nothing...why?"

Knitting his eyebrows together, the blond looked over at you with a disbelieving stare. By now, you were sure Ran had shifted his interest towards the two of you.

"You've been all skittish since you got here. You got something important on your mind or what?"

Geez.

"No...I've just been thinking about something stupid, that's all. Don't worry about it, now let me watch th-"

"That being?"

Now you were cornered. From behind you, having turned to look at Rindou, a voice spoke out the question. In slight panic, you managed to come up with another way around it.

"Well...that, let's say, if I had to choose one out of the two of you, I wouldn't know who I'd pick. It's a silly question one of my friends asked today, that's all"

God bless the fan girls. You were sure to never judge them internally again, because they might have just saved your skin in the nick of time.

Your nerves calmed down as you heard Rindou chuckle at the concern, and you figured he'd just brush it off as another one of your peculiar inquiries.

However, as he fully turned towards you, it was clear that he wasn't about to let this go unfazed.

"Well, you can't just leave us like that without an answer. Go on then, if it was a life or death situation, who would it be?"

"Rindou...you know I'd get rid of both of you if I could"

You all laughed at your words, stirring the conversation into an area that you were certain you could get a hold of.

Each one of you was just as ridiculous as the next one, so it wasn't hard to divert difficult topics.

If only the youngest wasn't so damn pushy.

"On a real note, there's gotta be one of us that you like just a little more, Y/N"

Upon knowing that perhaps you had driven yourself into a dead end, you started to fumble with your fingers.

What the hell were you supposed to say? If you picked one, the other was surely to get the wrong idea.

"Um..."

A slight shift behind you made you turn your head, catching Ran just a little too close for comfort to your face. Great, just what you needed.

After a few, nerve racking, seconds in silence, it was the eldest of the two that decided to break the ice. You were all just wasting time there, after all.

"Listen...since my brother seems incapable of forming a decent sentence, what we've been trying to get at is which one you'd choose, because we've both liked you for some time now and we kinda need to know who you'd go out with"

Well.

Certainly an unexpected turn to your seemingly uneventful afternoon. It appeared that you weren't the only one struggling with the damned feeling that was a crush, but you hadn't gambled that it would be both of them...and for the same person.

You couldn't choose.

In the same way that you had to waver the feeling of more than just friendship between the two of them, there was no way you could pick one now.

It would be unfair for the other, especially since you would only be lying to yourself for saying that you felt nothing for the half that was left aside.

There was only one way out of this, unless you wanted to shatter the relationship you had built between them for the past years.

"I...both of you. I can't leave one of you out when I, well, like both of you"

A huge weight was lifted from your body the moment the brothers exchanged a look, followed by an agreeing nod. Far from the catastrophe you had gambled with, that much was sure.

As Ran leaned his head on your shoulder, Rindou gave you a bright smile, one that not everyone had the chance to say that they've seen.

"Wasn't so hard to say, now was it?"

No. What was going to be hard was having not one Haitani by your side, but two, as a partner. Sure enough, you were really going to know what their poor mother had to put up with now.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo manji revengers #tokyo revengers ran #ran haitani #tokyo revengers rindou #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers x reader #ran x reader #rindou x reader #fluff

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p---ink · 3 years

Text

Teach Me.

Author’s Note: So. I finally made a Peter Parker Fiction. And I know the gif is Arvin Russell, but that is for a reason, and maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't, BUT TELL ME IF YOU DO. So this is an unnamed OC fiction, but its mostly reader insert, aside from the fact that she’s black (surprise, surprise) and she has brown eyes. I made her an “OC” because of that fact. Also, get ready for some fluffy head cannons of Peter P. In the not-so-distant future though.

Summary: Maybe Peter Parker, isn't as innocent as he seems.

Warnings: Smut. Smut. and more Smut. Car-smut. Dark-ish Peter (Not really, but he’s not his usual wholesome self)

Song: Star-gazing by The Neighborhood. I literally based this entire fiction on this one song. Even if you don’t read the fic, you should listen to it.

Word Count: 5.5k

“If you don’t mind me asking,” She started, pausing a bit to give him time to look up at her, “ who brings a textbook to a frat party?”

His heart stopped for a moment when he realized who was speaking to him. But then he matched her grin shyly and replied, “It’s more of a conversation starter than anything.”

“Would you say its been working well?”

“I did somehow manage to get someone as pretty as you to speak to me.”

The smile that was already plastered on her face, grew wider along with her eyes and brows. “Wow Parker: Who knew you could be so bold after a few drinks?

“I’ve only had one, so the rest is all me.” He closed his book and readjusted his leg inviting her to sit. Then as if just realizing, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. We went to Midtown together.” She said, getting comfortable on the couch.

“Yeah I know. But we barely spoke to each other. Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I existed.”

“I always kept tabs on cuties like you. Especially you, actually.” She declared.

“And you call me bold.” He muttered under his breath, a small blush creeping up.

“I’m always like this. Anyone who knows me, can tell you that. But anyone who knows you, would say the opposite. You were always so good.”

“Good?”

“Yes! Good. Innocent. Nice. Whatever floats your boat.”

“And I remember you being, bossy, assertive, and intimidating.”

She threw her head back in laughter before stating,“You say that like its a bad thing.” Coming down from her fits of giggles she adds, “You noticed me, too? Never thought I was on your radar.”

“How could anyone not notice you.” He asked. “We had English together our freshman year. First day of class, you challenged Mr. Frechowsky, for inflicting his political views on the rest of the class. He got so red in the face, after yelling at you for three minutes straight, but everyone was more shocked at you for being unfazed.”

“I forgot abou-”

“Sophomore year, you “accidentally” tripped Amy Shuemacker, after she made a rude comment about Ned’s weight. Junior year, you announced that you wanted to be not only the first female president, but the first who was black too. I remember telling myself you’d have my vote. Senior year, you almost had a mental breakdown when it looked like Michelle Obama was gonna run.” Peter finished, with not a hint that he was out of breath.

“I-” She was more than taken aback. “I’m embarrassed that you remember all of that. Its been like four years since we graduated. Frankly any other person would have forgotten.”

“I think its impossible for anyone who’s met you, to forget the day they did.” He admitted to her.

She just stared at him in awe for a moment. Mouth slightly agape from surprise. A shadow of a smile ever so present.

Even though he was the one to say it, it was his face that turned a tinge pinker than before when he realized the weight behind his words. He swallowed thickly, averting his attention to the patterns that lined the carpet, fearing that he made her uncomfortable. In all honesty, he used to have a proper crush on the girl, rivaled by even Romeo’s adoration for Juliet.

This was the same girl he once described as ethereal. He once told Ned that fairies wove the strands of her hair, and butterflies still lived there, claiming that he saw them playing beneath her braids. The sun literally lived under her skin, and it was the secret as to why it would glow, and why her smile was so bright. He would swear to anyone that listened, that the harp was made with her voice in mind, and that it, her voice, played a better melody. He used to be lovestruck. Guess those feelings still lingered.

If you asked him, two minutes ago had he gotten over it, his answer would’ve been yes. Would’ve been.

His sudden fluster—which she found adorable by the way, broke her from her trance as she grinned and said “Don’t act bashful now!” playfully shoving his arm as she uttered the words.

Quickly recovering from his earlier hiccup, he slowly returned her grin and tried to retaliate but before he could, “We have to go. Now.”

They looked up to see an irritated looking preppy girl impatiently scowling down at them. She couldn’t have been much older than 21, but no one told that to her clothes and aura. Her olive skin couldn’t hide the frown lines that had been assigned to her, nor the bags that would put a raccoon to shame. Besides the current circumstances that she would tell them in the next minute, Peter could tell on his own that the girl needed a date with sleep.

“What’s the matter Li? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, aside from the fact that Angie locked herself out of the apartment again.” She said sarcastically, muttering this last part under her breath “I swear I’ve had it with that girl.”

“Ah I see. Well then we better get going.” The girl affirmed, standing from her seat, making Peter rise from his. “Peter it was so nice seeing you. I hate to leave, I would’ve enjoyed catching up a bit more.” She said, turning to grab her coat.

“Well then we should catch up soon.”

She turned to nod her head, seemingly interested in his suggestion. “I’d love that. When did you have in mind?”

“How about now? if its a ride you’re looking for, I can drive you home.” Peter’s inner sixteen year old self, screamed at this opportunity. Time alone, with his four-year crush? He couldn’t not take advantage of the moment.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s all the way on the other side of town.” She informed him.

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering, because, ‘ya know; I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d like to catch up, too.” He said, second-guessing himself and praying that he didn’t come on too strong. “Ya know. Only if you want to.” He added just in case.

Taking too much time debating whether or not she should say yes, the girl’s friend did it for her. “Sounds great! I’ll see you at home.” Spinning on her heels, and walking out of the door.

“Well.” The girl started, smiling at her old schoolmate. “I guess that settles it.”

“Shit!” He cursed, killing the engine completely, and slamming his head back on the headrest. After a couple minutes of trying to get it to start, the boy gave up like his car did.

It had been a full three hours since Alisha left the party. The time was spent competing about who could find out more about the other. He learned that she still had a thirst for changing the world and community around her. She learned that the boy had been bitten by a radioactive spider and was now New York’s most friendly vigilante. She never knew that Peter could be so hilarious.

They were stranded on some back road, miles away from civilization, with rain coming down on the roof of the car like they owed it money.

“Peter, what did you expect?” She began to question, giggling as she spoke. “This car is so old, Fred Flintstone has a newer model.”

“Hey!” He cried, “Don’t badmouth Karen. She just needs a little work.”

“You mean a lot of work. Karen is ancient.”

“She’s been good to me.”

“Should I call Triple A?” She asked, ignoring his dramatics. “The rain will probably let up by the time they get here.”

“I’ve got this.” He sighed, readying himself to leave the car. “Besides, triple A doesn’t know Karen like I do. They won’t be able to give her the love and patience she deserves” He explained, the car’s rickety door sounding as he disappeared into the rain.

She heard that same distinct sound not ten seconds later, as he reappeared, soaking wet from the rain’s onslaught. His white t-shirt clung to his body, while beads of water raced down his skin. His messy locks, traded their dark brown hue for a jet black one, and his dirty converses shone a little brighter than they did before he left the car.

“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He admitted, the leather making a squelching noise as he glued himself back to his previous seat.

“The offer for triple A still stands.”

“No. I’ll let this play out. But maybe I can call you an Uber.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you out here all alone. We’ll let this play out.”

“But this may take a while.”

“I’m the reason you’re out here in the first place. And I like your company, so i’ll stay.”

Peter knew he couldn’t argue with that one, so he let silence befall the two of them. It stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was definitely palpable.

She thought to say something, he did the same, but neither could quite let their words come to life. It was unlike the girl he knew before, who said the first thing that came to mind. Unlike himself, who did the same, but in a less graceful way.

Finally, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet, Peter begins with, “How long have you and Brad been a thing?” The question fresh on his mind, since her phone rang yet again, with his ugly mug lighting up the screen. It was the fourth time she ignored the notification.

It was rare for Peter to hate a person. In fact he didn’t hate many at all. But there was something about Brad that always made his stomach clench. Didn’t help that he was sniffing around his girl.

“Hmm.” She pondered, tapping her chin with her index finger. Acting as if she was carefully thinking about it.“For about for-never and a day” She finally answered.

“Oh I thought, that since—“ Peter stammered, growing embarrassed by his assumption, and the disdain that coated his words.

“Anyone would have, with him blowing my phone up.” She sighed. “But alas, nothing will ever come of us. No matter how much he wants it to. Wish he’d take a hint.”

Back to silence. But this time it didn’t consume Peter. It gave him a bit of hope, enough hope to ask her his next question.

“Back at the party,” he started before pausing, which prompted her to question, yes, before he could properly collect his nerve to ask her what he wanted.

“Back at the party, you mentioned you always kept tabs on me. Especially me. What did you mean by that?”

“I may have had a small crush on you.” She answered without missing a beat. This of course took him by surprise, but not for long.

“Why did you never act on it?”

“Because I quickly realized you weren’t my type.” She said as if it was nothing in the world.

“Ouch. What did I do to make you realize that?” Peter asked. Though his tone was light-hearted, he tried not to let on that he was hurt.

“Nothing.” She replied. “You were just yourself. Peter Parker, the innocent good boy who would never harm a fly.”

Peter thought to himself for a moment. He thought long and hard before he decided to bring up the word she had uttered more than once tonight. “There goes that word again: innocent. What makes you think I’m innocent?”

“Come on Parker. Ned told me you once donated a one hundred dollar bill you found lying on the sidewalk to the local homeless shelter. And that was after you couldn’t find its original owner. That’s got innocence written all over it.”

“Does that make me innocent or a good person?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“There is a big difference between the two.”

“I disagree. The two are definitely interchangeable. Good people are the ones who haven’t been corrupted yet.”

“So does that mean you aren’t a good person?”

“I think I’m a neutral person. Not exactly good, not exactly bad. Just walking the tightrope. I probably would have taken the money, and felt bad about it later.”

They both chuckled at her statement, letting it end that segment of the conversation. Though Peter was done fighting with her about her type’s moral compass, he wasn’t done with the subject all together.

“So,” He paused, and she braced herself, taking notice of how every time he did that, a question she was reluctant to answer followed. “what exactly is your type?”

An uncomfortable breathy laugh passed through her lips as she answered. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I’m able to put it into words now.” She admitted, taking her time as she explained.

“I guess ideally you were my type. Nice. Harmless. Smart. But I was also looking for someone who knew how to take control. I’m in control of everything in my life, so it feels good to meet a person who lets me relinquish that. Or in more crude terms, a person who has the ability to fuck my brains out.” She declared as she leered in his direction with a small smirk playing her lips.

She was only teasing. But she could feel that the air had grown thick on the side of the car that Peter had resided in. For a split second, she could have sworn that she saw something snap in him. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, making her feel as though she had imagined the entire thing.

But she knew that couldn’t have been right. Known for many things, her vivid imagination wasn’t one of them. His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. She hadn’t imagined that. What he said next, after what felt like an hour of silence told her that she didn’t imagine anything at all.

“Did teaching me, ever cross your mind?” He asked. His grip on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. She saw his Adam’s apple bob after he spoke, and his chestnut eyes focused on the rain that splattered against the windshield.

“U-um I-,” She stammered, Peter catching her by surprise. She had to really think about his question. “I suppose it never did.”

“You still want me?” He asked her, turning his attention back on her.

“Huh?”

“Am I still your type? Aside from the fact that I can’t take control?”

She just swallows, before nodding.

Noting her surprise, but not relenting he says, “Then teach me.”

“What?” She questions, fearing she misheard him.

“Teach me.” He repeated, only elaborating when she scrutinized his face. “Show me exactly how you want to be touched. Kissed. Fucked.”

The way he said the word, fuck, was so filthy. It almost made her lose the rest of her composure. Not like she had much left. He had already rendered her speechless, now he was ruining her panties.

No. She wouldn’t let it play out like this. She had a reputation to uphold.

She peered over her shoulder, then back to him trying to assess whether or not he was serious. When his face showed no sign of amusement, she swung her door open, to trade her passenger’s seat for the back one.

The rain’s onslaught was still vicious, so her previously dry form was borderline drenched. July’s summer heat, did no favors in keeping her warm, and she had no idea if she was shivering from the rain or her nerves. “Are you gonna come keep me warm or what?” She challenged, trying to find her confidence again.

It was only seconds before Peter joined her, but it was no question that his body was shaking with anticipation. He looked at her expectantly, surveying her every move. From the way her eyes flitted to the ground, to the way her hands busied themselves by rubbing at her thighs. She was nervous.

It must have been a snowy day in hell.

“What should we do first?” She asked.

“Does the instructor usually ask the pupil what lessons they should start with?”

“Kiss me?” She suggested, half-ignoring his comment.

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Peter remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes.

Annoyance overtaking her tone now, she demands this time, “Kiss me.”

“Say please.” He teased.

“Damn it Peter, fucking kiss m—”

And then he glued his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, like him, but still managed to convey his longing. He hoped the kiss would capture all the times he imagined doing it when she would flash those pretty brown eyes his way. When she would speak in a way that put an angel’s timbre to shame. Even when she would fucking breathe, he imagined kissing her until his lips fell off. He hoped the kiss would make up for all of the ones he was dying to share with her over the years.

The pads of his fingers roamed over her silky smooth skin, starting at her cheeks, ending at her neckline. He tasted the flavor of her strawberry chapstick, the same one that made her lips feel and look as smooth as butter. When he inhaled and tasted the faint scent of minty watermelon on her breath, he decided he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to kiss her until he committed to memory every bump on her tongue. Then he would be satisfied.

“Like this?” He whispered, pulling back to inhale the same air as her, almost turning feral at the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. “Or,” he started, leaning back in to go again, searching her eyes, “like this?”

Whereas kiss one was innocent and sweet, the way that Peter portrays himself, kiss two was the definition of what he could be…or maybe what he already was, she couldn’t tell. He was filthy with the way his tongue glided against hers. The hot wet muscle played hers like an instrument, before locking the two together. One of his hands planted itself on the nape of her neck, forcing her to feel every measure against her mouth. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, not that she wanted to. Just like him she wanted to relish the taste of him.

With his nose pressed against her cheek, and hers against his, they kissed like they wanted to touch the other’s souls. They began breathing in the rest of the other’s air, like they wanted to swap lungs. Exploring the other’s bodies, like they would die if they didn’t study the exact texture of the other’s skin.

It took everything in Peter to restrain himself. To keep his thumbs from traveling beneath her shirt. He nipped at his tongue to keep from nipping at her lips and skin. He tried shifting in his seat to distract himself from the shifting going on in his jeans.

It certainly didn’t help the growing tent in his pants when the girl planted her thighs on either side of his, rocking and rolling her hips to alleviate some of the tension in her panties.

She took over the kiss, setting the pace and overcoming the surprise from Peter earlier.

Her fingers, that were previously glued to his face, began fumbling with the hem of his shirt, peeling the wet material off and over his head. She marveled at his sculpted chest for a moment, before Peter followed suit, pulling her dampened top over her arms and flinging it over the seat.

A throaty groan passed his lips when she resumed her measures against his hips. Grinding herself down on his hardening member.

Her breathy whimpers intensified when his surprisingly warm hands traveled along her skin, caressing her soft flesh. She was getting more worked up the more Peter mimicked the movement of her hips, grinding upwards while simultaneously pinning her waist down.

She tugged harshly on the patch of hair that lived on the back of his neck, eliciting one of the sexiest groans she had ever heard. His heavily lidded eyes that held the same fire as hers, both scared and excited her.

As she leaned in closely, preparing her words carefully she ordered him to, “Kiss me here,” before planting her lips on his neck. Flattening her tongue to lick a stripe up the exposed skin, she began swirling the appendage before nipping, licking, and sucking until his skin had a reddish purple hue.

She got lost in the feel of him, succumbing to the sound of his hisses and moans only to yelp a moment later, when Peter mimicked her earlier actions.

With a fistful of her hair, and her exposed neck jutting out towards his lips he licked a stripe against the skin, just as she did earlier, only his measures were steady and calculated, taking note of every flinch and hitch of her breath. He found her sweet spot in seconds, focusing all of his attention there.

With her nails digging into his flesh, and her hips stuttering, Peter knew he had her where he wanted her. “Like that?” He rasped, pulling away to admire the strings of purple and blue that littered her skin.

“Fuck yea Parker; you learn fast.” She gasped, attempting at a laugh, as she peeled her chest off of him. She took a hand of his into hers, grasping two of his fingers as she bought them to her lips.

Hollowing her cheeks as she sensually sucked and lubricated his digits, she bought his other hand down to her shorts, beckoning him to unbutton them. “Touch me here.” She murmured, eyes taking in the wide curious ones staring back at her.

With the newly slick fingers, Peter did as she told him, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and finding her nub instantaneously. “Right here?” He enquired, when her breathing turned shaky.

“Mmm, god yes!” She praised, as he worked his fingers over her.

Setting a consistent pace, Peter lightly grazed her clit, every time he ran his fingers up and down her folds. “Am I doing this right?” He questioned, flicking and teasing her core.

“Mhm” She mewled, “fuck y-your fingers feel so good” Her speech was now becoming slightly incoherent.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “What about my mouth?” He asked, just before unclasping her bra a little too effortlessly with one hand. Latching his lips against her perky chest, he massaged the other mound with his free hand.

Words were lost on her, as she became a wanton mess. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so skillful with both hands. How a person could multitask the way that he did was indescribable. His hand on her clit didn’t let up, but neither did the one that tweaked and pulled on her nipple. Not to mention the hot tongue that darted and sucked meticulously at her other. She couldn’t stifle her cries if she tried.

Riding his fingers, she pressed his head further into her chest, becoming greedy with his touch, as she sprinted towards her orgasm. She thought that this feeling couldn’t get any better.

Of course, Peter was full of nothing but surprises tonight, and needed to prove her wrong. He let two of his fingers slip inside of her, while a thumb replaced the ones that were glued to her clit. Rubbing circles against her sex, he pumped the two fingers furiously in and out of her hole.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

But the girl didn’t answer, Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to, but the words were jumbled somewhere in her throat. Her face twisted into pleasure, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his measures against her body.

It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach spasming, the heat pooling to her core, her already sensitive flower growing even more sensitive, as she came into his palm.

Her juices coated his digits, her walls fluttered around them, and her skin was now hot to the touch, as Peter forced her climax out of her.

Tears flooded her eyes, as she took in as much air as she could. When had she stopped breathing? Maybe sometime during the earth-shattering orgasm her old classmate was giving her.

Once the ringing in her ears subsided, and her lower region began to cool again, she thanked the boy and praised him as she said, “You did so well,” before planting hot wet kisses on his shoulder and neck.

She stopped when she felt his body shaking. Coming back up to eye him, she asked what he found so funny.

Peter tried to hide the smirk that plastered his lips but he couldn’t hold his act any longer. “You just don’t get it do you?” He asks as he casually licks and sucks at his fingers, just as she did earlier, relishing in the taste of her essence.

The confusion on her face and brain was evident. “Get wha—” He had her pinned on her back, before she could utter the last syllable.

The tight space was cramped, but the boy had more than enough room to stalk his prey. He hovered above her, ridding her of the rest of her clothes in one fell swoop, before delivering his monologue.

“I don’t know what it is about girls like you, but I swear you drive me crazy.” He admitted, before removing his jeans in a quick motion. “You always assume that just because I’m a nice guy, I won’t be able to fuck your brains out.” He informed, before revealing a hidden condom and rolling it on before lining himself up at her entrance. “But I hope that if tonight proves anything to you,” He starts, eyes finally darting up to land on her horror-filled ones, “it will be that your mindset can land you in a whole heap of trouble.”

And with that, he grasps the door above her head, before sinking himself into her.

Groaning at the feel of her, Peter’s facade dropped completely. Her tight little cunt feels even better than he imagined, and he hopes that he feels better than she ever imagined.

He starts slow, with the intent of her feeling every ridge of his cock, as it threatens to invade her stomach. Her soft tits bouncing with every thrust, send a jolt through his body every time her nipples graze his chest. The way his name falls off her sweet tongue, has him in shambles, as he picks up his pace, throwing slow and steady out of the window.

Her cries are loud in his ear, as he ruts against her sex. He’s so thick, its hard for her to think straight. He can feel the indents of her nails as they dig into his lower back; she tries to press his ass closer to her, never wanting him to leave.

Maybe if it were any other guy fucking her, she would have felt the seat buckle digging into her back. Maybe she would have felt her sticky sweaty skin on the leather of his back seat. Maybe the awkward position her head was in would have spoiled her experience. But with Peter, she could only focus on the pleasure.

His thrusts were relentless now. His hot breath was fanning the side of her cheeks. His previously damp hair, stuck to her neck, as he drove himself further into her skin. Nothing could distract him away from her in this moment.

Nothing but the faint glow of her phone, that is. It’s buzzing, and vibrations immediately catching his eye, as he held his head up. That same dangerous smirk that she saw earlier returning.

“Look who’s calling, baby.” He purred, overcoming the stutter of his hips. When he held her phone up for her to see, her heart sank at the mischief behind his words. Brad. “Should we answer it?”

“No, Pete!” She cried.

“Oh come on, that would be rude wouldn’t it?” He dared, before delivering a particularly hard thrust, that sent her mind into a haze. “We can stop so you can take this—”

“No! D-don’t stop” She begged, prying the phone from his fingers, and fumbling with the answer button.

“Babe? Hello?” Brad’s irritating voice answered flooding, her phone’s speaker. But the girl didn’t answer immediately, because she was too busy trying to stifle her whimpers.

“Hey Brad!” She finally choked out, sounding somewhat normal. How she managed to do it, she couldn’t say.

“Wow! Finally. This is like my eighth time trying you. I almost can’t believe you answered. What are you up to?”

“Should you tell him what you’re up to, babe?” Peter devilishly whispered against her skin.

“Nothing!” She whined into the phone.

“Whoa. Are you okay? You sound a little off?”

“You should tell him you sound like this because I’m making you feel so good.” Peter suggested, driving her body up and down the seats. “I bet he’d wish he were me right now.”

“I-I’m just a feeling a l-li-little sick is all.” She breathlessly stuttered.

“Should I come over?”

“Ah yes Peter!” She wailed, when the boy starts circling his fingers against her clit, while simultaneously grinding slowly but roughly into her. She’s no longer paying attention to the man on the other end. His curses don’t faze her, nor does Peter’s actions as he releases the phone from her grip.

“Hey Brad. Remember me.” He casually asks, ignoring Brad’s threats. “Yeah no man, don’t worry about her: I’ll make sure she’s real good and taken care of.” He promises, before ending the call, and tossing the device into the passenger’s seat. “Think he finally got the hint?”

Peter then takes the girl’s hips into his hands, lifting her inches off the seat, before pulling her body onto his dick at an ungodly speed.

Crying. She’s literally crying, with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is becoming hoarse with moans. She had never experienced such intense sex in her life.

Peter brings the hand that was previously plastered on the glass down to the girl’s face. “would this be the definition of fucking your brains out, baby?” He grunts, in reference to the girl’s constant repetition of his name. It’s the only word she can remember, as he fucks her into the chair.

His movements shook the car. The heat that their bodies radiated, fogging up the glass. The scent of their sex now embedded in the fabric of his seats. The boy was completely untamed.

Her screams were one among the things that set him off. The way her body writhed against his was another. The stutter in her speech another. But the unbridled lust that her eyes held, was the literal icing on the cake.

Thank fuck she came before him. Her tight little hole constricting and clenching his dick. And when he started slipping in and out, her eyes glued shut, and her chest started to rise and fall, he knew that she had came.

A sweaty fucked out mess before him, she needed Peter to finish her off before she was satisfied. “Drown me in your cum” She begged, and it was like he knew exactly what she wanted.

Unsheathing himself from her, he ridded himself of the condom, and started tugging violently at his cock. Fucking his hand, not unlike the way he fucked her earlier, he spurted his milky white seed all over her supple brown canvas, a husky groan roaring from his chest as he threw his head back in pleasure. His seed extinguished the heat that resided in her skin, and she closed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back down on the seat.

The image of his white paint, all over her stomach, chest, and tits, bleeding into his memory, as he came back down from his high.

Once back down to earth, reality began to sink back in. Immediately recomposing himself, Peter blurted, “Fuck are you okay? Was I too rough?”

His sudden outburst almost made her jump out of her skin, but she quickly recovered. “Oh god no Parker! I loved every minute of that.” She lazily smiled reassuringly. “Do you always fuck like that?”

Peter returned the smirk, blushing before saying, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you like that.”

After planting a final kiss on her lips, he reached into the center console, to scavenge a few wet wipes, cleaning her skin before discarding them.

Moments later, they reunited with their lost articles of clothes, pulling the fabrics over their limbs before crawling back into the front seat.

When Peter put his seatbelt back on, and cranked the car up with no effort, he felt the heat of the girl’s eyes on his skin.

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by her glare.

“Was there ever anything wrong with the car?”

And then as if just realizing Peter mouthes oh, before telling her simply “No.” Adding on that he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her.

“Well how the fuck did you know I wasn’t gonna just take your offer for an Uber?” She asked, more impressed than pissed.

“Because you’re a neutral person, and a neutral person would feel too bad about doing that.”

“There’s a lot of things I still have to learn about you Parker.” She admits, sinking down into her seat. Heat rising to her cheeks, as a new crush began to develop.

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to teach you.”

A/N: So like...don’t be afraid to tell me what you think. I swear I dont bite...unless you're into that. also this was edited it, but probably not well, so tell me if you see an error.

#peter parker x reader #Peter Parker smut #Peter Parker x black!reader #black!reader #Peter Parker fluff #spiderman x reader #marvel smut #marvel imagines #spiderman #Peter parker #black reader #smut #dark!peter x reader

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a-room-of-my-own · 3 years

Text

A while before the latest hoo-ha about Judith Butler, I had just been reading her again. Though she claims her critics have not read her, this simply isn’t the case. I read Gender Trouble when it first came out and it was important at the time . That time was long,long ago. She was just one of the many ‘post-structuralist’ thinkers I was into. I would trip off to see Luce Irigaray or Derrida whenever they appeared.

I got an interview with Baudrillard and tried to sell it to The Guardian but they didn’t know who he was so its fair to say I was fairly immersed in that world of theory. For a while, I had a part time lecturing job so I had to keep on top of it. Though Butler’s idea of gender as performance was not new , it was interesting. RuPaul said it so much more clearly in a quote nicked from someone else “Honey ,we are born naked, the rest is drag”

What I was looking for again , I guess is not any clarity – her writing is famously and deliberately difficult- but whether there was ever any sense of the material body. She wrote herself in 2004 “I confess however I am not a very good materialist. Every time I try to write about the body, the writing ends up being about language” .

Butler from on high ,cannot really think about the body at all which is why they (Butler’s chosen pronoun) are now the high priestess of a particular kind of trans ideology. The men who worship Butler are not versed in high theory. The fox botherer had a “brain swoon” at some very ordinary things Butler said. Mr Right Side of history nodded along in an interview. Clearly neither of these men are versed in any of this philosophy and would be better off sticking to tax law and the decline of the Labour Party. Butler is simply a totem for them.

Butler said in the Guardian interview for instance “Gender is an assignment that does not just happen once: it is ongoing. We are assigned a sex at birth and then a slew of expectations follow which continue to “assign” gender to us.”

So yeah? That’s a fairly basic view of the social construction of gender though I take issue with the assigned at birth thing ,which I will come back to and why I started reading her again in the first place.

This phrase “Assigned sex at birth” is now common parlance but simply does not make sense to me. I am living with someone who is pregnant. I have given birth three times and been a birthing partner. I know where babies come from. There is a deep disconnect here between language and reality which no amount of academic jargon can obliterate.

Babies come from bodies. Not any bodies but bodies that have a uterus. They grew inside a woman’s body until they get pushed out or dragged out into the world.

The facts of life that we are now to be liberated from in the form of denial. Only one sex can have babies but we must now somehow not say that. The pregnant “people” of Texas will now be forced into giving birth to children they don’t want because they are simply “host bodies”. The language of patriarchal supremacy and that of some of the trans ideologues is remarkably close, as is their biological ignorance.

There is no foetal heatbeat at six weeks for instance. When a baby is born , doctors and midwives do not randomly assign a sex, they observe it and they do it though genitalia.

There is a question over a tiny percentage of babies ,less that one percent with DSDs but even then they are sexed with doctors having difficult conversations with parents about what may happen later.

Somehow, though when I read the way in which this is now all discussed it is clear to me that the people talking have never been pregnant, never had a foetal scan, never been near a birth , never miscarried, do not understand that even with a still birth babies are still sexed and often named.

If you want to know the sex of your baby you can pay privately and know at 7 weeks ((*49-56 days from the first day of the mother’s last menstrual cycle). A 12 week scan will show it. That is why so many female foetuses are aborted . I have reported on this.

Talking to paediatricians about this is interesting because they do indeed have to think through these things that we are being told are not real eg. that sex is just a by-product of colonialism for instance. Sometimes pre-conception , geneticists will be looking at chromosomes because certain diseases are more likely in men or women. Males have a higher risk of haemophilia for instance.

One doctor told me “When babies are premature, the survival advantage of females over males is well known throughout neonatology. This is sometimes something we talk about with parents when there is threatened premature labour around 23 weeks' gestation and options to discuss about resuscitation and medical interventions. In fertility treatment (or counselling around fertility in the context of medical treatments) it is pretty inherent to know whether we need to plan around sperm, or ova + pregnancy.”

She also said that if she involved in a birth that “assigning” isn’t the word she world use. “Observed genitals a highly reliable observation, just like measuring weight or head circumference which is also done at this time. “ Another doctor said that anyone involved with a trans man giving birth would be doing the best for the patient in front of them.

Sex then is biological fact. A female baby will have all the eggs she will ever have when she is first born which is kind of amazing. It is not bio-essentialist to say that our sexed bodies are different nor is it transphobic to recognise it.

Except of course in my old newspaper ,The Guardian who are now so hamstrung by their own ideology they have got their knickers in such a twist they can barely walk. They completely misreported the WiSpa incident , basically ignored the Sonia Appleby judgement at the Tavistock. Appleby was a whistle blower ,a respected professional concerned with safe guarding. She won her case. The cherry on the cake this week was an interview with Butler, themselves (?) in which they went on about Terfs being fascists and needing to extend the category of women.

Does anyone EVER stop to think that most gender critical women are of the left, supporters of gay rights, often lesbian and that this is not America? We are not in bed with the far right. This is bollocks. Just another way to dismiss us.

As we watch Afghanistan and Texas ,to say Butler’s words were tone deaf is to say the least. But they didn’t even have the guts to keep the most offensive stuff in the piece and overnight edited it out without really explaining why : the bits where Butler described gender critical people as fascist. Perhaps because the person their “reporters” had defended against transphobia at WiSpa turned out to be a known sex offender, perhaps because someone pointed out that Butler was throwing around the word fascist rather like Rik Mayall used to do in the Young Ones.

All of this is rather desperate and readers deserve better. When I left that newspaper I said that I thought and expected editors to stand up for their writers in public. Instead they go into some catatonic paralysis. I may have not liked this interview but it should never have been cut. Stand by what you publish or your credibility is shot.

But this is about more than Judith Butler and their refusal to support women . Butler is not really any kind of feminist at all. What this is about is the large edifice of trans ideology crumbling when any real analysis is applied. Yes, I have read Shon Faye’s book and there are some interesting points in it and I totally agree that the lives of trans people should be easier and health care better . I have never said anything but that.

What Faye does in the book is say that there can be no trans liberation under capitalism so there will be a bit of a wait I suspect.

Yet surely it is the other way round and what we are seeing is that trans ideology (not trans people – I am making a distinction here ) represent the apex of capitalism .

For it means that the individual decides their own gendered essence and then spends a fortune on surgery and a lifetime on medication to achieve the appearance of it. Of course lots of people spend a lifetime on medication but not out of choice. Marx understood very well that the abolition of our system of production would free up women.

Now it is all about freeing up men. Who say they are women. Quelle surprise.

Nussbaum’s famous take down of Butler is premised exactly on the sense of individual versus collective struggle “ The great tragedy in the new feminist theory in America is the loss of a sense of public commitment. In this sense, Butler’s self-involved feminism is extremely American, and it is not surprising that it has caught on here, where successful middle-class people prefer to focus on cultivating the self rather than thinking in a way that helps the material condition of others. “

Such thinking now dominates academia. There is simply an unquestioning rehearsal of something most of know not to be true thus Amia Srinivasan writes in The Right to Sex “At birth, bodies are sorted as ‘male’ or ‘female’, though many bodies must be mutilated to fit one category or the other, and many bodies will later protest against the decision that was made. This originary division determines what social purpose a body will be assigned.”

What does ‘sorted’ mean here? A tiny number of intersex babies are born. A tiny number of people are trans and decide to change their bodies. The feminist demand to challenge gender norms without mutilating any one’s body no longer matters. What matters now is this retrograde return to some gendered soul. This is not something any decent Marxist would have any truck with . Of course one may change over a lifetime and of course gender is never ‘settled.’ We are complex people who inhabit bodies that often don’t work or appear as we want them to.

But not only is there a denial of basic Marxism going on here , what becomes ever more apparent is that there is a denial of motherhood. Butler said “Yet gender is also what is made along the way – we can take over the power of assignment, make it into self-assignment, which can include sex reassignment at a legal and medical level.”

Self-assignment is key . One may birth oneself. No longer of woman born but self -made. This is a theoretical leap but it also one that has profound implications for women as a sex class. We are really then, just the host bodies to a new breed of people who self-assign.

Maybe that is the future although look around the word and there isn’t a lot of self-assignment going on. There are simply women shot and beaten in the street, choked to death or having their rights taken away. There is no identifying out of this , there is no fluidity here . This is not discourse. It is brutality and do we not have some responsibility to other women to confront male violence ?

Instead the hatred is aided and abetted by so called philosophers describing other women as Terfs. It is utterly depressing.

The sexed body. The pregnant body. The dying body. The body is in trouble when we can’t talk about it . I thought of Margaret Mary O’Hara’s beautiful and strange lyrics and what they might mean. I await my child’s return from the hospital as hers is a difficult pregnancy and thank god they are on the case. The sex of the child she carries does not matter to me at all .

It simply exists. Not in language but within a body.

Why is that so difficult to acknowledge?

#gender critical #feminism #transgender #judith butler #suzanne moore

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mha-platonic-yanderes · 3 years

Text

Settling In: Family Dinner

Inspired by @i-cant-sing

If there was any word to describe the past week, you would choose quiet. A schedule was set for your time spent here and rarely it would deviate. Rei would wake you up to watch the sunrise with you and you’d get ready for the day with her. The outfit she chooses always sits on the bed waiting for you while she does your hair. Mornings are spent in either the sun room or the library, with Rei always watching. Though, she leaves to cook. She always left you to cook. If nobody else was home, that means you’d be left alone. Fuyumi would come by for dinner some nights and take your afternoons. Enji wasn’t home during the day, but joined you all for dinner every night before you could retire to your new room. Even if the schedule is slightly smothering, it’s easy to keep up with.

There were no chores or responsibilities for you to do, unlike your old homes. It was relaxing—too relaxing. There was no stress, so you created some. Tonight, instead of Rei, Enji, and maybe Fuyumi, the other two Todoroki children were coming over. You don't know what to expect, so you stress over it.

Fuyumi warned you that they weren’t as accepting as she was, that they weren’t as involved with the family as she was. You don’t want to make a terrible first impression. You don’t want your new siblings to hate you.

Fuyumi comes home earlier than her siblings, coming immediately home from work. Meetings, she says, that’s why she couldn’t have come sooner. You remember that she’s a school teacher. It’s easy to imagine what those meetings are about. Though, she doesn’t give you time to daydream about her, as she’s asking you questions.

“So Y/N, you’ve been here a week? Have you been enjoying your time here?” Fuyumi does your hair, extremely careful not to hurt you. She’s taken this responsibility from Rei for today. Rei’s been busy at the store and in the kitchen all day, leaving you with Fuyumi. You don’t mind that; she’s nice.

“It’s quiet.” You don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing, but it’s the truth.

Fuyumi takes it well, “That’s good. Mom picked out some good books for you, did she?”

The library in the Todoroki estate may be massive, but most of those books Rei says are too mature for you. She’s regulated you to books below your reading level. They’re for children younger than you. But she doesn’t like to watch television and the laptop they’ve provided has only been gathering dust.

“If I’m honest, they’re a little boring.”

Fuyumi chuckles, “She’s a little out of touch from reality at times. I’ll grab you some books you’ll probably like better. I used to do a lot of reading when I was your age.”

“What’d you read?”

“Romance, mostly.” Fuyumi admits, “occasionally fantasy. I wasn’t trying to read anything too dark and neither should you.”

Too dark. Too mature. You wonder where that threshold is for them. You suspect it’s a lot higher than most people’s standards. You don’t dwell on this thought too much longer. Finding faults in your caretaker’s lifestyle isn’t the best way to stay in their good graces.

“How was school this past year?” She rests both hands on your shoulders. She’s done with your hair, but she isn't letting you go. You could probably move her to get out, but there’s no need. Fuyumi is nice and interested in what you have to say. Why would you leave her?

“Alright.” You reply. Even if it isn’t the truth, you wouldn’t speak it, “Don’t know where I’m heading now, though. We’re too far from my old school.”

“Father mentioned Somei and Mom talked about homeschooling.” Fuyumi replies, “We’ll have to see which one concedes first.”

You can’t imagine Rei fighting Enji on anything, especially something as trivial as where to take you to school. Though, you’d prefer if she concedes. Homeschooling seems like a nightmare.

“Oh, alright.” You respond. There’s nothing else to say on the matter and you hope Fuyumi lets up soon because you don’t know what to talk about anymore. Almost like a savior, a knock is placed on your door. It isn’t as strong as Enji’s—Fuyumi and Rei don’t knock at all—so, you assume it’s one of the brothers.

Fuyumi calls out to the person on the other side for you, “Hold on!” She finally lets up to open the door. You fiddle with the edge of your dress. The tulle is a bit itchy, but the smooth, holographic hearts covering the entire dress provide a nice change of texture.

You look up to see a tall, white haired guy. He’s broad, built like Enji as opposed to Rei. Though, the rest of his features seem to come from her. He stands in the doorway looking at you, then back at Fuyumi—who’s back to holding you on your shoulders again, causing you to continue to sit still in the vanity’s stool.

He takes another look at you and your fingers fiddle with the dress more. He’s unnerving and hasn’t said a thing he walked in. You start to speak, but he looks up at Fuyumi and asks, “What kind of quirk bullshit has justified this?”

That’s not what you expected.

You think to object, no quirk stuff has happened here—at least, that you know of. Though, Fuyumi immediately comes to your defense, “Natsuo! You can’t just ask something like that! Have some respect.”

“Do you really expect there isn’t an ulterior motive behind this.” Natsuo replies, “You know how he is with quirks.”

“He’s gotten better!”

“Prove it.”

“Uhhh, Natsuo, sir.” You break up the siblings' argument, “No quirk stuff has happened, really.”

He grabs a hold of your arm, looking at it thoroughly before heading to the next one. You don’t know what he’s looking for. Bruises? Burns? Scars? You have none of them from your time here.

You wouldn’t have anything quirk related anyways—you’re quirkless.

“Is this the lie he’s told you to say?” Natsuo asks, “You aren’t going to be able to lie. I see through his bullshit.”

“Natsuo!”

You want this conversation to end. Natsuo’s and Fuyumi’s hands are both icy cold and you don’t like the attention. Plus their argument is painful to listen too, especially considering it’s about you.

“Natsuo, sir…” You say, “there’s no quirk… anything. Really! I don’t have a... quirk.”

He lets go of your arm and it drops to your side. He stands up again. Fuyumi lets your shoulders go, moving to your side.

“Hey, chin up kiddo!” Fuyumi replies, smiling her everbright smile, “there’s nothing wrong with that!”

You didn’t even realize you were staring at the ground, but your feet soon come into view through watery eyes. Fuyumi’s fingers wipe away the tear that slips through.

“Hey, sorry kid.” Natsuo’s hands are in the pocket of his jeans and his shoulders are raised, “I have the habit of assuming the worst.”

“It’s fine.” You reply, laughing through the soft tears, “I should be over it by now, anyways.”

“Let’s head out of here.” Fuyumi takes your hand, leading you out of your room, “Father should be bringing Sho home soon. He’ll just love you, he won't be able not to."

Despite the ominous nature of Fuyumi’s statement, you let yourself willingly be led to the living room. Besides, where else would you go, anyways?

___

Gratefully, the three of you leave your room. The room was getting tense between the sibling pair. You don’t want to be the reason they fight, do you? They always look so close in the photos on the wall—even if nobody looks happy in those photos.

Natsuo leads the way. He walks with his shoulders back and his head held high. He has confidence, something you’ve started to lack now that you’re around all these powerful quirk users. You feel the cool air radiating from in between him and Fuyumi. She walks right behind you. If you stopped, she’d crash right into her.

But you don’t stop. You walk down the hallway and head towards the living room. There, two figures step in through the door. The first is the boy with half red hair, half white hair. The photos on the wall show him to be significantly younger and without the bright red scar covering one eye. He wears U.A.’s school uniform. One of the old children in your last home went there as well. The other person is Enji. He’s in his hero uniform still—flames and all.

Before anyone can say anything, Natsuo speaks up, “Father’s not using her. I already asked. She’s quirkless.”

He doesn’t say it in a negative way, but him bringing it up at all stings. You’re inadequate compared to them. They all scream of powerful quirks, but you don’t even have a quirk to begin with.

And now, you’re getting the suspicion that quirks are what this family truly cares about. Which leaves you in a terrible position—quirkless, surrounded by powerhouses.

“Alright.” Shoto deadpans, then slips his shoes and coat off. A cool wind blows in from outside, but it’s no different than standing between the cold Todoroki children.

Enji asks his sons, “Do you really think so low of me?”

“Yes.” Natsuo and Shoto reply instantly.

Luckily, Rei comes to your rescue, guiding you to a seat at the kitchen table. Whilst they talked, she set everyone’s plates wordlessly. She cooked this meal for everyone and you feel a slight pang of guilt, knowing that six mouths is a lot to cook for. You had smaller homes than that, which sometimes saw it too tiring to cook for their size. And Rei cooked a lot—much more than she’s cooked for the other meals you’ve had here.

Your plate is filled. You can’t imagine that you’ll eat all of this, but you’ll eat as much as you can. You wouldn’t want to make Rei sad, now would you?

“Thank you Rei, for dinner.” You reply, before taking a bite. As you sigh in pleasure, Rei’s other children echo their thanks. The food is so good that you block out all sound in order to focus upon it.

“Y/N, are you there?” Fuyumi jokes from her seat beside you.

“Oh! Uh, yeah.” You exclaim, then ask, “Did you need something?”

“Father just asked how your day was.” Fuyumi replies.

You tell him, “It was good.” He sits at the head of the table, just like last time. You don’t sit next to him, Fuyumi does. You sit directly one seat to the left than the seat you’ve been sitting in. You don’t mind, especially because to the other side of you is the one brother you’ve barely heard speak: Shoto.

He looks at you—he’s watching you. You can see him do it out of the corner of your eye. It’s unnerving to say the least. But you put your head down and continue eating, making sure to pay attention. Luckily, they don’t ask you too many questions. Most of the attention is on Shoto and Natsuo. They’ve returned home—the family all together, Rei calls it. You don’t ask about the other boy in the photos. He’s obviously not a part of the family anymore.

“May I be excused?” You ask as soon as you're finished eating, not keen to just sit there and listen to their conversations.

Enji doesn’t hold you back this time, giving you a silent nod. You take your plate to the kitchen and then head to your room, making sure not to bother them anymore. You don’t want to be seen as a bother anymore than you already are, do you?

#platonic yandere #yandere mha #yandere bnha #reader insert #mha fanfic #bnha fanfic #yandere todoroki family #yandere todoroki clan

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hiiraya · 3 years

Text

didn’t know what i had (rewrite)

masterlist

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: ~3,216

warnings: angst, break-up (pls lemme know if there's anything else i should add!)

requested: nope :p

a/n: this is my one and only nat series (because i suck at writing series, and continuity - bad memory gang represent - in general) but pls lemme know what y'all think! (also i think i got a little carried away bc this used to be 2k+ words and now it's 3k+ words)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

“Marry me?”

Despite your voice shaking from the nervousness running through your veins, you stayed hopeful, looking up at Natasha from where you were kneeling on the ground, almost dropping the velvet box in your hand from how anxious you felt.

“…what?”

"Uh-, w-will you marry me?”

You can already feel the dread starting to settle in your stomach when she takes your hands and pulls you to your feet.

She doesn't meet your eyes when she lets go of your hands, looking at everywhere else but you.

“Y/N… I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you.”

It felt like the universe was mocking you ever since Natasha said no to your proposal 4 months ago.

Neither of you had told anyone on the team that you had tried to ask her to marry her and you preferred it to stay that way.

Tony and Pepper went and got married (which of course, you were elated about, you'd been rooting for them from the very beginning), and then what seemed like only a few months after that Wanda and Vision decided to tie the knot too.

Being their close friends, of course, you and Natasha were invited to both of the ceremonies.

You were happy for your friends (how could you not be?), but you couldn’t help but feel like you were missing out.

Sure, you two were still together, but compared to before where you would always be attached at the hip, it was like the two of you suddenly became polar opposites. Whenever the newlywed couples were in either of your vicinities, you found yourself actively trying to avoid your girlfriend and vice versa.

No one but the two of you knew the reason why.

"I just want to know why, Nat."

You hadn't meant to bring up the topic of marriage again, but Tony decided to call you and Nat out on why you hadn’t gotten married yet.

To put it in his words, “you guys have been together for what, almost six years now? You're already practically married at this point!”

And even though you respected her decision to say no, there was always a tiny part of you that wanted to know the reason as to why she said no in the first place.

"I'm just not ready and you know this, Y/N," she sighs, shaking her head.

It was always like this now; constant sighing, the cold shoulders, the both of you getting irritated with the other that lead to yelling and arguing about the tiniest things.

"Marriage isn't in the cards for me; a family isn't in the cards for me. I’m sorry if it is for you, but I can’t give you that.”

You should’ve know better than to expect more of an explanation from her. In fact, you were surprised that she even said that much considering she found every excuse to leave the room when any of your friends even so much as hinted at the topic of marriage.

Your shoulders sag at her answer, but you nod anyways.

“You’re right, that's my bad," you mutter, "I'm sorry for bringing it up again.”

You're too lost in your head as you leave the room to see the wary glance Natasha sends your way.

“It's like we're walking on eggshells, Wanda. We’re acting like we don’t even know each other anymore.”

Natasha didn’t mean to eavesdrop in on your conversation with Wanda. Clearly you thought it was only you and Wanda in the living room, especially because everyone else had announced that they were doing their own things for the day.

“Asking her to marry me was a stupid idea," she hears you sigh, "I should’ve just kept my stupid mouth shut.”

A sigh is heard all the way from where she was hiding in the kitchen, knowing that the younger girl was most likely frowning at your words.

Wanda could feel the regret and uncertainty emanating from you as you sat next to her, your thoughts practically screaming at her for her to take a peak inside your mind.

(Wanda didn’t mention to you that she could hear someone else’s thoughts just a room away.)

You’d never spoken to Natasha about how you felt (granted, she didn’t talk to you about how she felt either), and she couldn’t help but agree with your words from earlier.

You two were walking on eggshells; you rarely spoke to one another ever since she said no to your proposal, the air becoming tense and awkward whenever the two of you were in the same room.

As much as you tried to show just how much it didn't affect you, she could see it in the way your mannerisms changed, the jokes you used to share with her slowly coming to an end, like you were back to being strangers all of a sudden.

“Please don't say that, Y/N/N. You’re not stupid, asking her wasn't stupid, you didn't know that she was going to say no.”

Judging from the lack of response from you, Nat took that as the end of your conversation.

Taking a peak from her spot, she saw you sitting beside Wanda, looking visibly troubled.

Deciding not to violate your privacy any longer than she already had, she starts to walk back to her room. It’s the defeated tone in your voice when you speak up that stops her in her tracks.

“Why doesn’t she want to be my wife?”

Arguing seemed to be the norm nowadays whenever you two were alone together.

“So, you’re talking to Wanda about our problems now?”

She came back to the living room after hearing Wanda leave, promising that she would be back later with food, leaving you sitting alone on the couch with your thoughts.

“What are you talking about, Nat?”

She watches you sag further into the cushions while she walks over to you, standing over you with her arms crossed over her chest.

“‘It's like we're walking on eggshells, Wanda. We’re acting like we don’t even know each other anymore.’”

She parrots your words from before and watches the realisation fall on your face when you realise that she heard your conversation with Wanda.

“What do you want me to say, Nat?" You frown. "We are walking on eggshells, and whenever we’re alone we just end up arguing. We keep going in circles, and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Then don’t do anything," She bites back, "clearly we’re going nowhere.”

It’s not the right words to say and she knows it, but she was just as tired of the fighting as you were.

“What do you mean 'we're going nowhere'?”

Was she really willing to throw away the a six-year relationship she shared with you?

"I'm done talking with you."

She's deflecting and you both know it, but before she can say anything else you scoff, something she's noticed you doing more often whenever she was around.

“Well you don't have to worry about that," You retort. "You don’t ever have to talk to me anymore about anything, Natalia.”

She can't explain the way her heart drops to her stomach, the feeling like she's just lost something inherently important to her as she watches you walk away from her.

As cliché as it sounded, you wanted to run away from everything. Well, more specifically someone.

So you did just that.

“Are you sure that you want to join me on this, Y/N?" Maria asks you for the nth time in the past 10 minutes. "I don’t even know when we’ll be back.”

You liked the think that it was the universe trying to make it up to you for all the shit it's put you through in the last months when caught Maria leaving Fury’s office, asking her if there were any missions that you could tag along to.

Luckily for you, she was leaving for a recon mission and you jumped at the chance to leave with her.

Maria hadn’t heard about what happened between you and Natasha, everyone but Wanda had still yet to find out, and frankly you’d wanted to delay telling her for as long as you could.

The less questions asked the better.

You’d leave it to Natasha to explain your sudden absence to your friends. Or not. You really couldn't care less at this point.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, Agent Hill.”

Maria looked like she wanted to say more but decided against it. After all, you two had been friends for years, and working with you as closely she did, she could easily read you like an open book.

Which meant she knew when to call you out and when to drop the conversation.

“Pack a bag then," She nods. We leave tonight.”

“They’re back.”

Clint looks across the room to where you were standing with Wanda and Maria, watching you smile as you caught up with the younger girl.

You and Maria had just arrived back from your recon mission which had taken longer than expected, with what was supposed to be a six month mission became twice as long (not that you were complaining, it gave you more time to heal and recover from your heartbreak) because of an issue with the intel.

“I heard that they got back this morning.” He tells Natasha, pausing to look at her. “How’re you feeling?”

Giving him half-hearted shrug she looks at him, subconsciously moving away from your view. If Clint catches on to what she was doing, he doesn’t call her out on it, instead moving to stand in front of her to block her view of you.

“The last thing I said to Y/N was that I was done talking with them. I didn't expect them to stay, but I didn't expect them to leave without a word.”

The older of the two sighs as he glances back at you briefly.

"Sometimes you tell someone that you're done, that you never want to talk to them ever again, but then the phone rings and there's a part of you that hopes that it's them. It's the most twisted logic of all time."

Clint doesn’t miss the way Natasha keeps looking over his shoulder, right where he knew you were standing, almost as if she was holding herself back from walking over to where you were.

There were so many things she wanted to tell you, but a year of distance and silence was too long, and she didn’t want to risk getting shut down the moment she had a moment alone with you. She didn't want to have to watch you walk away again.

“You should talk to Y/N.”

Clint gives her a reassuring smile, squeezing her shoulder before excusing himself to head down to the training room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

“I don’t understand why you and Clint want me to talk to Y/N so badly, Wanda.”

The witch throws her head back in slight frustration before meeting the redhead’s eyes once again.

“You’ve been ignoring Y/N ever since they got back, and don’t even try to lie to me about it." Wanda frowned at her friend. "From what you’ve told me in the past, Nat, you want to talk to Y/N. You know you do.”

After finding the normally stoic woman crying in the training room months after your departure, Wanda was the first person Natasha opened up to about her feelings, just like you had.

Since Wanda was close to you as well, she'd heard the story from both sides and acted as the mediator between you two.

Seeing as the older girl was still apprehensive, Wanda took it upon herself to speak up again.

The younger girl speaks to her in a motherly tone, looking at her friend with sympathetic smile. ”Sometimes all you need is 20 seconds, Nat. 20 seconds of insane courage to tell Y/N/N what’s been on your mind for the past year."

"Wanda, they probably don't want to talk to me."

Shaking her head, Wanda puts her hands comfortingly on Nat’s shoulders.

"Not talking to each other is what caused this in the first place. You don't know that they don't want to talk to you." She reasons. "And you also don’t want to regret not saying anything at all either, we don’t know the next time they’ll be back.”

Giving her friend’s shoulders a gentle squeeze, she waits until their eyes meet once more to speak again.

"Just-, think about it, okay? I heard that they’re getting ready to leave again soon.”

“I’ll leave you two to talk.”

The air is tense after Maria exits the room, telling you that she’ll be back to get you when it’s time to leave and Natasha watches your gaze turn to the ground for a moment before clearing your throat.

“So, if there's nothing here to talk about, I still need to pa-"

“Wait, Y/N.” She interrupts before you could finish, knowing that once you found a reason to leave, there was no way she would get another moment alone with you.

You sigh as you look at her, and Natasha can see just how uneasy you are being in the same room as her after such a long time. After all, last time didn't end too well.

It wasn’t like you were trying to avoid her (though the same couldn’t be said about her actively trying to avoid you like the plague ever since she saw that you and Maria were back), but she knew why you didn’t go out of your way to come talk to her.

"The first time you proposed-"

“Nat, do-"

"Just let me say this," She pleads. "Please."

She’s had a lot of time to think in the past year, had a lot of time figure out what she wanted and what she really needed. No matter where she started or what she thought about, everything always led back to you.

You tried so hard to hold onto the threads that was holding your relationship together while she was all but ready to throw in the towel the moment it got too much.

Natasha's never regretted anything so much in her life before.

"The first time you proposed," She starts again. "I said no because I thought I wasn't ready and that I didn’t want to get married. And I spent a really long time regretting saying no to you."

Judging by the look on your face while she was talking, she could tell that you would rather not relive the memories of her rejecting your proposal.

“But then everyone around us was getting married; Tony and Pepper, Wanda and Vision. I could see how much you wanted what they had, even though you always told them that you were happy with the way we were.

"They all seemed to happy, it made me think that maybe getting married wasn’t the worst thing in the world, even if I kept saying that I wasn't ready, that it wasn't in the cards for me. And even though I was being so adamant about my choice, I kept hoping, kept wondering if you would ever ask me to marry you again.”

She gages your reaction to her words, seeing that familiar furrow in your brow that she always used to kiss away whenever you were feeling frustrated or confused.

"But it never came."

She knew that it wasn't fair put all the blame on you, she was just as equally guilty - she knew she pulled back and distanced herself from you after you proposed to her. It was never in her intention to cause a strain between the two of you but that’s exactly what ended up happening.

"I wasn't going to push you into something you didn’t want, Nat.”

You’d been quiet ever since Nat started her spiel, so hearing your voice break the silence startled her. You spoke to her in a soft tone - you were never one to raise your voice, only this time you sounded too tired and defeated, like you’d been hurt for so long that nothing really affected you anymore.

“Y/N-“

“I should’ve known that you didn’t want to get married. It was stupid of me to just assume that you would say yes. I guess I just didn’t enough pay attention to realise that marriage wasn't in the cards for you, and I should have. So, I didn’t ask you again after that.”

It wasn’t stupid, Y/N. You’re not stupid for wanting things too.

She could only stare at you, letting you say your piece and unknowingly giving you the power to make or break her with what you had to say next.

“I asked you and you said no, all of a sudden our friends were getting married too. I wanted that, but I would never force you to marry me just because I wanted it. Whatever you were willing to give, I would've gladly accepted. But then one thing led to another, and the next thing I knew we weren’t talking to each other anymore. Whenever we did, we were always arguing. It got to the point where we were just going in circles.”

You were still talking in that soft tone, the timbre of your voice would have been calming to Natasha had it not been for the words coming out of your mouth. It seemed to her that the more you talked, the more exhausted you looked, like discussing this with her was draining you of your energy.

"You told me you were done talking to me. The only thing I’ve ever wanted was to make you happy, Nat, and if me leaving made you breathe a little easier and relax a little more, then I made the right choice. I didn’t want to make things any harder for you, for us, or for anyone.”

It’s breaking her heart all over again to hear you say those words, as if you thought that you didn’t mean everything to her. You’ve always been too good for her, and she was lucky enough that you shared six years of your life with her.

She could’ve spent more if she just didn’t fuck everything up.

Tears stung her eyes at the thought of not having you in her life, in her future, unwilling to even entertain the thought of seeing you with someone else.

“I was so focused on myself that I didn’t even think about what you were feeling, how this affected you. You were hurting too, yet you were trying to make things work, and I didn’t even bother to talk to you. I told you that I was done, Y/N, but the last thing I wanted was for you to leave.”

She paused as you ran your fingers through your hair before rubbing your eyes, taking the chance to gather her thoughts.

“I let the best thing that ever happened to me go.”

She didn’t even know if you still felt the same like she did for you, but if what Wanda had told her meant anything, she knew she had to try.

“What are you trying to say, Nat?”

“Please give me another chance.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #avengers x reader #black widow imagine #avengers imagine #marvel imagine #myfics.txt #i really got carried away with this #whoops #happy reading my loves

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starshine583 · 3 years

Text

New Girl on the Block (13)

(Happy Valentine’s Day everybody!!! I’d say that this is a gift for the day, but this is my usual update time lol please enjoy the new chapter anyway! There’s also a mini series connected to this called Journal Entries :D)

Ch.1 / Ch.12 / Ch.14 (ao3)

Chapter 13: I’ll Make You a Deal

Lila stalked the halls of Dupont, doing her best to hide her scowl as she massaged her temples. When she offered to take Marinette’s job as Class President, she hadn’t realized how much extra work she was dumping onto herself. She thought that the title was just that: a title. Nothing more. Nothing less. Sure, she would have to verify a few things, acknowledge her classmates’ opinions towards the school system, and speak out about it as a representative towards them, but that was all. She didn’t expect it to rearrange her entire schedule towards life! Her head was pounding from the late nights of filing student complaints, her back ached from carrying this stupid binder around, and her wrist still twinged with pain from signing too many papers at once. It was ridiculous!

Lying to Bustier about those forms didn’t make it any easier either. Instead of getting to make minor additions to the papers Marinette had already written, she now had to rewrite all of the forms herself. The entire process was a nightmare, and Lila couldn’t escape. If she lied again and said that Marinette gave the forms back, that would be glorifying the girl, and she refused to do that. However, if she lied and said that she simply found the forms again, it would not only make her look suspicious, but also incompetent. She couldn’t have either of those descriptions attached to her person.

So, that left her with the agonizing option of filling them out again herself. She tried to push it onto Alya, and for the most part, she succeeded. The red-head filled out a good half before handing them back, but that still left Lila with the other half. Thus, she’s spent the last three nights in a row doing nothing but signing form after form after form. The fact that she had to use Marinette’s forms as reference only made it worse. She could practically hear the ravenette laughing at her every time she glanced over the original paperwork. It was utterly humiliating.

And don’t get her started on the amount of requests or complaints that she had to file. Everyday her classmates came to her asking for this or that or “could you change this about our classroom?”. Sometimes they would talk about the seats being too hard or the fact that they didn’t have enough recess or how the stairs were too far apart and someone could trip. Then- oh, then -there were the class trips. One request was a literal trip to Greece. Greece! Did they think she or the school was just made of money? How can they possibly be this greedy or entitled? How was Marinette able to handle it all so easily? She made it look like it was nothing!

Lila clenched her fists at her side, her nails digging into her skin. Even after running from the school with her tail between her legs, Marinette was still acting as a sharp, irritating thorn in Lila’s side.

Sparkling laughter interrupted her thoughts, and Lila turned to the two boys standing outside of the library entrance. Adrien Agreste, the golden child of the school, and Nino, his little sidekick- as far as Lila was concerned -appeared to be chatting mindlessly on their way back to class, which was typical. Adrien was always talking with somebody now-a-days. That was another problem of hers.

When Marinette first left, Adrien became distraught and distant. He began muttering to himself and not listening in class, dismissing everyone with a hum and a nod. The other students berated him for the behavior, wonderfully captured in Lila’s beautifully crafted web of words, but he hardly heard them. Or if he did, he didn’t care. He continued to write things in his notebook that certainly weren’t lesson notes and run his hand through his hair with frustration when he hit some sort of wall.

It was irritating, of course, but nothing Lila hadn’t expected. Marinette was supposed to be his “very good friend”, after all. She would have been surprised if he hadn’t mourned the loss. What she didn’t anticipate, though, was the way he bounced back.

It had to have happened a little over two weeks after Marinette left, because Lila remembered finally starting to feel comfortable in her new role of being able to lie unchallenged. She was spewing some crap about Marinette sending her mean messages, making sure her tears looked real enough and her sobs were believable, when Adrien decided to jump into the conversation. He flashed her a bright smile and, in the kindest voice she’d ever heard, asked her for the texts that Marinette had sent.

The question alone had surprised her, considering the fact that he hadn’t really spoken to anyone in a while, but that smile he held was really the thing to set her on edge. It was simply too sweet-looking for someone who had just indirectly asked for proof of her story, especially when they both knew that she was lying.

She couldn’t understand the change. He’d been cowering in the corner for the last two weeks, and yet that day, he was out for blood on her account. Why? What was the difference between the last two weeks and that day? She still doesn’t know.

Adrien’s determination towards outing her cranked up to eleven after that . He went from barely talking to one person throughout the day to talking with everyone on a constant basis, and anytime Lila so much as uttered a sentence, he was there asking questions. When did she do this, who helped her with that, how did she manage to get from one place to the other so quickly- from a naïve onlooker’s point of view, Adrien would simply appear to be interested in Lila’s stories, but she knew better. He was finding holes in her stories and using them to rip apart her words piece by piece, all while using an innocent yet confused expression to make it seem like he was trying to help her. The strategy was completely different from Marinette’s, and it ticked Lila off to no end. How was she supposed to turn crowds against him and regain her throne if he kept acting like some pure-hearted angel?

She couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t, and he knew that she couldn’t, because that’s the exact same tactic that eventually got Marinette to leave the school.

A part of her had hoped that this newfound passive-aggression would fade after a few days, but now that three weeks of constant badgering on Adrien’s account has passed, that hope has been thoroughly and relentlessly crushed. He hasn’t done much over those weeks, thankfully, but she’s had to reinforce her lies ten times the normal amount to keep it that way. That’s a tad hard to do when all of your stories are on the grand scale of things.

Even with her meticulous planning and words choices, though, one can’t escape subtle confrontation forever. She could tell that people were slowly starting to become suspicious of her stories. They were either wanting Adrien to be around during their discussions with her or were looking for holes themselves.

Watching them exchange glances during her stories made her blood boil. Why did they have to be so nosy? So picky? Can’t she have a reprieve for once in her entire life? Can’t she just lie and manipulate others without the fear of getting caught? Why did that feel like such a big request from the universe?

Adrien and Nino waved to each other, and Lila perked up. It looked like they were separating. Were they separating? Oh, please be separating. That would be the most convenient thing to happen to her all month.

Adrien split off from Nino, to her delight, and Lila beelined after the blond. His meddling had gone on long enough, and she thought it was high time someone put an end to it. That someone being her.

“Adrien!” Lila cooed, looping her arm with his and flashing a bright smile. “It’s been forever since we’ve talked just one on one, don’t you think?”

Adrien’s steps faltered, and for the briefest of moments, she saw his eyes darken. Nobody else would have noticed, especially not with the friendly smile he gave her right after, but Lila caught it. She was the only one who realized how truly despicable the model could be.

“Oh, hey Lila.” He replied with an easy, clearly fake smile. “I guess we haven’t talked alone in a while. You normally like to be at the center of the crowd.”

Lila tried not to grit her teeth and instead elected to flip her hair over her shoulder. “Well, I wouldn’t say the center. I’m just being myself, and the others seem to follow.”

Adrien hummed. “Yes, I’m sure you're a wonderful role model for all of us. It isn’t everyday we get the courtesy of having an honest and kind friend like you.”

His sarcasm was palpable, but his shining smile remained. A part of her wondered why he even bothered acting at this point. They both knew they were at war now. Niceties were only necessary when someone was clueless towards hidden motives. Adrien wasn’t, and neither was she, yet here they were. Smiling and trading snide remarks in the privacy of the empty locker room.

Lila put on a bashful expression. “Oh, please-”

“Of course,” Adrien interrupted her, “there was also Marinette. She was always ready to help someone. It’s a shame she had to transfer schools.”

Lila bit the inside of her cheek to avoid sneering. There he goes again, mentioning that ridiculous baker girl. It’s so infuriating.

“Even though she was a bully? I’m sorry, Adrien, but I don’t think you should forgive someone so easily. They’ll walk all over you if you give them too much leeway.”

Adrien slipped- or rather jerked -his arm out of Lila’s grasp as he exchanged some of his books. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

Ah, there it is. That might have been the first genuine comment he’s made during this discussion.

“What was that?” She asked with feigned politeness.

Adrien straightened and gave her another innocent smile. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if this could all be a big misunderstanding? The phone number that was terrorizing you wasn’t Marinette’s, after all. If you were.. mistaken.. on that story, perhaps you missed something in your other stories. Don’t you think so?”

Lila forced a smile so wide that her cheeks started to hurt. Was this his way of giving her an out? A last chance of mercy? Because if it was, she refused to take it. She’s built this kingdom with nothing but her bare hands, and she’d be darned if she decided to lie down and let him take it away just as quickly.

“I can’t say I do.”

Adrien closed his locker, a certain glint coming to his eyes when he looked at her. “Well.. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what I find. Won’t we?”

Rage crackled through Lila’s bones as Adrien walked past her, but she caught herself before doing anything rash. If she was going to counter Adrien’s sudden attacks, she needed to make a deal with him and get him off of her back just long enough to plan. And to do that, she needed to promise him what he apparently wanted most.

“What if it wasn’t her?”

Adrien stopped in the doorway, and Lila held her breath.

“..Because it wasn’t her,” he corrected, “I’ll be hoping that she comes back.”

Lila drew in a deep breath, if only to avoid screaming. Marinette, Marinette, Marinette- Why did he have to have to be so infatuated with Marinette? What could she possibly have that made Adrien want to fight against the whole school to get her back?

“Alright..” She said, completely calm. “Say you were right. If it happened to turn out that Marinette wasn’t the one responsible and I convince her to come back, will we all be able to get along?”

Bile rose to her mouth as she spoke. The very thought of running back to Marinette and asking her to come back to Dupont made Lila’s stomach churn, but this was fine. She was only promising to bring Marinette back. Promises can easily be broken.

Adrien smiled, but not like the fake, warm smiles he’d been giving her throughout their conversation. No, this one was sharp, predatory, as though he could see right through her words.

“See you in class, Lila.”

The “golden child” left the locker room then, and Lila finally gave in to her frustration and let out a growl. This was supposed to be her victory, her turf, and yet she can’t even enjoy it anymore because Adrien freaking Agreste decided to meddle in business that wasn’t his. He knew that the only reason she was willing to compromise was because he was getting to her, and that burned her up inside.

She drew in another deep breath and smoothed out her miniature ponytails. This was fine. Everything was fine. Adrien might be deciding to join the squabble a tad later than usual, but Lila invented this game. If he wanted to try his hand at her tactics and strategies, fine. He would soon realize why she was able to climb to the top in the first place.

~~~~~~~

Marinette stared out the car window with awe as they drove up the street towards Allegra’s estate. In the week that led to the group sleepover, Marinette had racked her brain day and night trying to decide what the mansion would be like. How tall would it be? How wide? Would it take up an entire street or a small square of Paris like Gabriel’s? Would there be butlers running around like in the movies or would there be a simple maid or two to keep things moving? Perhaps there wouldn’t be any hired hand at all? The excitement and anticipation made her buzz and bounce through the last few school days at Rosemary, but she refused to ask any questions during the wait for winter break. Marinette wanted the mansion to be a complete surprise. And now that she was finally here, sitting in the backseat of Allegra’s miniature limo and practically pressing her face against the window, she couldn’t be happier with that decision.

Mansions of all kinds lined the sidewalks, bigger and more elegant than she could have ever imagined. Some had marvelous fountains, while others had incredible gardens. Some had amazing walls with ingrained art that lined the premises, and one mansion even had horses grazing on their front lawn! It made her wonder why Gabriel would build his mansion in the middle of the city, or if any of these mansions might belong to Claude, Allan, or Felix.

Near the end of the street rested a long brick wall that had elaborate, white statues decorating the major corners. Marinette guessed immediately that that was Allegra’s mansion, because the wall wrapped around an enormous white house that had silver railings for the balconies and blue-ish grey tiles for the rooftops, quite contrary to the golds and dark browns that came with the other mansions. It was beautiful in its simplicity, and that seemed like something Allegra would enjoy, even if the house belonged directly to her parents.

Sure enough, the car rolled to a stop in front of the black metal gate that the brick walls led to, and the driver told Marinette to stay put as he hopped out of the vehicle. She watched quietly as he unlocked the gate by hand using a personal key and quickly found herself wiggling in her seat when he started pushing the gates open. They were so close! Allegra’s mansion was right there! If they didn’t start moving again in two seconds, Marinette might just jump out and start running.

The driver got back into the car with a small apology for the inconvenience- to which she assured him that it was fine through barely contained squeals -and they continued through the gate at a leisure pace, which killed Marinette inside. She wanted to get into the mansion now!

In an effort to remain still, her eyes flicked around the front lawn of the estate. The driveway they had pulled into appeared to be a full circle, looping around an intricate water fountain that spouted bursts of water in such a way that made the water look as though it were dancing. Diamonds of dark green grass cut through the concrete in the driveway, leading to the rest of the vibrant grass on the lawn, and a delightful mix of bushes and flowers lined the inside of the brick wall as well the outside of the mansion. It struck Marinette as quaint and refined at the same time, and her respects went out to the person- or persons -responsible for designing and maintaining the look.

Finally, the limo parked in front of these wide, marble steps that led to the front door, and the driver barely had time to open Marinette’s back door before she leapt out with her bags in her arms. If the outside was this luxurious, she couldn’t wait to see how breathtaking the inside would be.

“Thanks for the ride, sir!” She called over her shoulder as she hopped up the steps two-by-two.

“Oh, miss-!” The man yelled after her. “May I take your bags?”

Marinette skidded to a halt and turned around, ready to politely decline his offer, when another voice spoke up behind her.

“No need, Louis! I’ve got them.”

Marinette whirled back around, coming face to face with Allegra, who was now standing in the doorway with a bright smile.

The blonde reached forward to take the bags with one hand, while giving Marinette a side hug with the other. “I’m so happy you’re here! This is going to be great.”

“I know! I’ve been waiting for this all week! Your house looks amazing.”

A grin spread across Allegra’s lips, and she pulled back from the hug in favor of grabbing Marinette’s hand. “If you like it now, just wait till you see the inside.”

The two girls waltzed inside together, but as soon as she entered, Marinette couldn’t help gasping and breaking away from Allegra to run further into the house. Tiled, marble floors stretched out before her, seemingly farther than the street she had just driven down, and on the other side of the bigger-than-life foyer was a set of large, open windows that touched from the floor of the first level to the ceiling of the second level. They overlooked the backyard, which was equally as enchanting as the front yard, and a part of her had the urge to sit down and stare at them wistfully for a good hour or two.

To her left and right were a pair of long, curved stairs that led to the second floor. They matched the marble tiles on the first floor and had beautiful, metal railings that curled and twisted into different types of flowers and leaves. The railing also trailed off to the open hallways above, where Marinette could see different types of doors lined up. Her restless brain wanted to skip up the stairs, brush her hand across the smooth, black railing, and explore each and every room possible.

Her gaze dragged up to the ceiling, and her jaw fell slack yet again as she realized exactly how high the building was. The circular sunroof that signified the center of the ceiling felt higher than the Eiffel Tower itself, and Marinette was certain that if she called out, it would take at least five seconds to hear her voice echoing back to her.

“Well?” Allegra asked next to her. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Marinette blanched. “Allegra, this is incredible! Do you really live here?”

A musical laugh came from the blonde, and she nodded. “Yep. Ever since I was five. Come on, I’ll give you a tour!”

They made their way to the stairs, and Marinette eagerly ran her hand across the cool railings as she continued to look around. She couldn’t believe how astonishing everything looked. It was as though they’d taken the finest jewels and rocks on earth and merged them together to create this mansion. How did they even afford all of this?

“What did you say your mom did again?”

Allegra glanced over at her. “My mom? She’s a-”

“Hey!”

The two girls paused mid step and looked up at the open hallway. Claude stood just above them, leaning over the railing and waving with a wide grin. Allan stood behind him, also offering the girls a friendly smile as a greeting.

“Is that Marinette?” Claude called.

“Yep! She just got here.”

“Sweet!” The brunette cheered. He dashed from his place upstairs and, once he got a good enough momentum, jumped to a stop, using his socks to slide the rest of the way to the stairwell. “We’ve been waiting forever for you to show up!”

Marinette giggled and ran up the rest of the stairway to give Claude a hug. “I got my clothes together as fast as I could.”

“Oh, you’re good.” Allan assured as he came to join them. “You’re technically early anyway.”

“I thought I was.” Marinette remarked, pulling away from Claude to give Allan a small hug as well. “Is Felix here too?”

“Nope, it’s just us right now.” Claude answered with a smile. “We already had clothes here from previous sleepovers.”

“They practically have their own personal closets at this point.” Allegra snorted. Then, she gave Marinette a playful nudge. “And soon, so will you.”

Marinette smiled. She wasn’t sure that she even had enough clothes to fill another closet, but it didn’t stop her from feeling giddy towards receiving one. Having a personal closet at Allegra’s meant she would be coming over much more often, and that was something she desperately wanted to do at this point.

“Have you shown her around yet?” Claude asked.

“Nope. I was gonna show her my room first, though, so I can put her bags down in there.”

“Oh, good idea.” The brunette remarked, taking the opportunity to snag Marinette’s bags from Allegra’s hands. “Let’s go! You’re gonna love it, Mari.”

With everyone together- save for Felix -the group eagerly clambered down the hallway that Claude and Allan had previously been in. The black railway from the staircase continued to twist down the hall next to Marinette, and when it finally stopped at a wall, Claude stopped at a doorway to his right. Glittering stickers arched across the door, spelling out the word “Allegra”.

“Those are from when I was, like, nine.” Allegra commented, a hint of a blush on her cheeks as she opened her bedroom door.

Marinette was about to say that it was fine- she actually found the lettering to be endearing -but any form of words or replies were lost on her when she saw the bedroom for the first time.

Everything was covered in light purples and white, with occasional bits of gold and light blue to accent the room. An enormous, deep purple bed with swirling, golden patterns sat in the center, holding pillows that were bigger than Marinette’s bed alone and a comfort that looked fluffier than her warmest ear-muffs. A pair of blue, see-through curtains wrapped around the bed as well, reminding her of something a princess might own.

Across the room- which was twice the size of her little attic bedroom -were two white shelves that stretched from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. They held various things such as books, notebooks, miniature glass statues, and plenty of other trinkets that struck Marinette as charming. She wondered how long it must have taken Allegra to collect such things, or if she bought them all in one go as she decorated her room. There were even a few crystal wind-chimes hanging around the room.

“This is..” Marinette wasn’t sure what it was as she walked inside, star-struck. The girl even had her own chandelier, for Pete’s sake! Then there was the massive vanity with a million different types of eyeshadow- all aligned perfectly in an orderly fashion -and the massive desk on the other side of the room that had a fancy paperweight and a nice, little trinket to hold all of Allegra’s pencils and such for school. Don’t get her started on the chair hanging from the ceiling that looked equally fancy and comfortable.

“Do I really get to sleep in here?” She eventually asked instead. Words couldn’t describe her thoughts on the room or how it looked like something out of a daydream.

Allegra laughed. “Yep! We’re actually going to be spending most of the night here.”

“After we go swimming, of course.” Claude added as he set Marinette’s bags down in the walk-in closet.

Marinette’s eyes widened at the remark. She’d almost forgotten why she came here in the first place. “Where is the swimming pool?”

“It’s downstairs.” Allegra answered. “I can’t wait for you to see it. We have a water slide and everything.”

Marinette would have gasped, but after what she’s seen so far, she wouldn’t be surprised if they had their own personal zoo. “Can we go see it?”

“Absolutely!” The blonde smiled, looping her arm with Marinette’s. “But first, we need to finish our tour.”

The group made their way out of Allegra’s room and started exploring each door they passed. Claude, Allan, and Allegra took turns explaining each room’s purpose to Marinette, and she absorbed their words as best she could. Most of the time, though, she was lost in her thoughts, completely awed by the structure of the household.

Each room appeared to be bigger than the last, and some of them had Marinette nearly falling over from the amount of money that had to have gone into the décor. There were offices and dining halls and bigger bedrooms for Allegra’s parents. Then there were game rooms with pool tables and living rooms with couches that stretched around the entire room so everyone could see each other. Vases and sculptures lined the hallways and hid in the corners while extensive family portraits littered walls and held personal places on overly huge fireplaces.

In a word, the entire mansion was extravagant, especially for a three-person family, but despite the overwhelming amount of space, Marinette could feel the warmth and familial love of each room. A multitude of memories resided in the walls, and she couldn’t wait to hear all of them.

One room in particular caught her attention the most.

“What is this place?” Marinette asked as she walked into another wide-spread room. Musical instruments of all kinds littered the area- harps, violins, cellos, pianos, guitars, mandolins, and other things she couldn’t even name. They all appeared to be in mint condition, so clean that she could see her reflection in them, and the little kid in Marinette wanted to run around and try each one of them.

“This,” Allegra said next to her, “is our music room.”

“Music room..” Marinette whispered as her hand ran over a pair of literal bongos. “Can you actually play all of these?”

Claude snorted behind them. “She definitely wishes she could.”

Allegra scoffed and smacked his arm with a playful glare.

“No, I can’t play all of them.. But I’m working on it.”

“Wow.” Marinette muttered. That had to be time consuming. Where did she find the drive to keep practicing all of these?

“..Can I touch them?”

“Oh, yeah! Touch them all. Go crazy. I can even teach you how to play a little tune for some of them if you want.”

Marinette lit up. “Can you really?”

Allegra chuckled. “Of course. We have all night, don’t we?”

Marinette had to bite her tongue to avoid squealing again, and she promptly darted off to try everything she could. Any strings and keys would be briefly plucked and pressed before being cast away for the next instrument. She would thump on the drums and blow on the tubas and, occasionally, she would stop to try a few simple tunes on an instrument that sounded especially enchanting to her.

After about thirty minutes of this heaven- there were a lot of instruments -someone knocked on the doorframe at the front of the room, gathering the group’s attention.

A man with light brown hair stood in the doorway, offering an easy, yet apologetic smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Allegra, who had been teaching Marinette how to play the Panda Drum, hopped up from her position on the floor to greet him with a hug. “Not at all! I was just showing Marinette around the house. Mari, this is my dad, Arthur. Dad, this is Marinette, my friend from school that I’ve been telling you about.”

Marinette set the drum aside and stood up as well. “It’s nice to meet you, M. Chanson.”

“Oh, please.” M. Chanson held up a dismissive hand. “Just call me Arthur. Or even Uncle Arthur, if you like.”

A soft smile spread across Marinette’s lips, and she nodded. He sounded exactly like Maman when someone new came to their house.

“Anyway, I just came by to drop off the last bit of your group. He found me in the kitchen while looking for you.” Arthur said. He then stepped to the side to reveal none other than Felix, who had apparently been standing behind him the whole time.

Marinette perked up at the sight of the blond. “Oh, Felix! You’re here!”

“Here late.” Claude added with a smirk.

Felix shot him a look. “I’m not late. I told you all that I wouldn’t quite be here at the same time as everyone else.”

“Telling us that you’re going to be late doesn’t mean that you weren’t late.” Allegra pointed out. “It just means that you were considerate about your tardiness.”

Felix narrowed his eyes at her, knowing she was correct, and Marinette pursed her lips to avoid laughing, because she also knew that Allegra was correct.

“So I see you’ve been showing her my instruments?” Arthur cut in, redirecting the conversation.

Marinette’s eyes widened. “These are your instruments?”

Arthur chuckled. “Yep. In fact, I taught Allegra everything she knows.”

“You mean you can actually play all of them?”

“Well, some better than others,” The man responded with a half shrug, “but yeah. I’m honestly a little disappointed that A didn’t come get me when she showed you the room.”

Allegra winced. “Oh, sorry, Dad. I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“That’s amazing..” Marinette remarked, dumbfounded. She couldn’t imagine having enough memory to know how each individual instrument was played.

Arthur tilted his head back and forth with a hum. “I wouldn’t say amazing. A lot of these instruments are extremely similar to how they’re played, and at some point, once you’ve learned enough, you start to realize that a lot of music has a certain order to it. When you know that order, it makes playing a lot easier.”

“Oh, don’t be modest.” Allegra scolded. “Who else can play almost all of the instruments of the world and memorize any new instruments within a week?”

Before Arthur could respond, Allegra turned to Marinette with a proud smile and continued.

“Dad’s able to combine these instruments like no one I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot. It’s like he’s memorized every string, key, or chord possible! He’s even written songs for us too. Some of them are just funny little melodies to go with Claude’s acts, but others are full songs that he performs for me and Mom. Sometimes, when Mom’s stressed, he’ll sing or play for her to help her relax. I personally think that the songs he writes then are the best ones.”

The more she talked, the more bashful Arthur became, and Marinette couldn’t help cooing at the man. The thought of someone writing songs for the person they loved and singing them when that person felt down brought a wonderful warmth to her chest. It actually reminded her of another sweet boy she knew, one with blue-tipped hair and a smile that could melt the arctic.

“I have a friend like that.” She decided to say. Why not tell the others about him too? “He has a passion for the guitar and plays songs for me when I feel down too. It’s so calming.”

Something in her tone or expression must have caught their interest, because the group’s attention shifted from Allegra to Marinette in an instant. Before she could ask about the sudden change, Claude slipped an arm around her shoulders, flashing her a sly grin.

“Oh? A friend, you say?” He drawled. “You sound pretty fond of him. What’s his name?”

An involuntary blush crept across Marinette’s cheeks, more so at the implication in Claude’s voice than anything else. After two years of hanging around Alya, with her raised eyebrows and coy smiles, she could tell when someone was trying to accuse her of certain feelings towards another.

“O-Oh. uhm.. His name is Luka.”

“Luka..” Allegra hummed. “I’ve never heard you mention his name before.”

“And I’ve never seen her blush like that before, either.” Claude teased. “You’re not being very subtle, Nette.”

Marinette felt her blush deepen, even though they both knew she was easily flustered. She’s probably blushed a million times in the month that she’s known them, and most of those blushes were definitely darker than the one she was wearing even now.

Her gaze flicked to Felix, curious as to what he thought on the matter. His expression remained neutral, though she spotted a bit of intrigue in his eyes. It didn’t help with her guilt towards the comments.

Then again, why should she feel guilty? Even if she did like Luka, that wouldn’t affect anyone here. There was no reason to be ashamed.

Nevertheless, she still wanted to slip her way out of getting teased, so she jokingly rolled her eyes and said, “You guys said we were going to go swimming, right? Felix is here, and it’s getting dark so we should probably change before it gets too late.”

“The pool is indoors.” Claude helpfully reminded. “It doesn’t matter how late it gets.”

“But that was a good try at dodging, though.” Allegra smirked.

A squeak flew from Marinette’s lips before she could stop it, and the trio shared a laugh.

“Come on, guys.” Allan lightly scolded. “If you keep messing with her like this, she might spontaneously combust.”

Another laugh tumbled from Claude’s lips before he let out a dramatic sigh. “Alright, fine. I guess we can go swimming now.”

“Marinette has to cool off, anyway.” Allegra added with a wink.

Marinette groaned and put her head in her hands, if only to hide her ever-growing blush.

Mental note: Never mention a boy to the group again, because they will probably see right through you when it’s actually serious.

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#felinette #Marinette #Felix Culpa #Quantic Kids #Rosemary AU #New Girl on the Block

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ithinkthereforeidread · 3 years

Text

the collected poems of todd anderson

christmas day of 1959.

ao3 link here

He knew this day would come. He’s been dreading it, sure, he’d never really enjoyed Christmas much beforehand, his multiple unopened desk sets epitomised such. At his house, fires weren’t warm, hugs were stiff and silence was punctured by the sounds of laughing children in the house next door. It’d always been this way for the Anderson family. Todd grew to accept it.

But this year was supposed to be different.

He was supposed to spend his Christmas at Welton, with all the Dead Poets.

Usually, the boys would go home to their families for Christmas, but through the efforts of Neil he assembled a complex string of falsities about a gargantuan Latin group project that all the Dead Poets needed to finish.

“Serious business, I care about my education father, why else would have you sent me here?” said Neil over the phone, holding his index finger to his mouth to silence Todd from his chuckling, although all Todd really saw was the wide grin that hid behind it, and the way Neil’s eyes crinkled up all the way, a complete oxymoronic action when Neil was usually on the phone to his father. Todd stifles back laughter and Neil smacks him lightly, only causing him to laugh more.

“Well, that was quicker AND easier than I expected...” Neil states after placing the phone back on it’s cradle and ending the call. “But hey!” Neil squeaks, “We’re all spending Christmas together! The biggest concern was just getting my father to agree, everyone else’s parents seemed fine with it.”

Todd and Neil start to walk, side by side, Neil bumps him playfully. “I’m so glad you told me, Todd.” Neil turns his head and looks towards the shorter boy. “My Christmases at home aren’t that great either, I’ve always wanted to spend them here, but I could never work up the courage to ask my father, ask Charlie, in our first year he almost called up my father himself. It was hilarious, he had to look up at the phone, he was so short.”

“You and Charlie have been friends for ages then?” Todd queries “Oh yeah, we met in our last year of preparatory school, he was a pretty mischievous kid, obviously not much has changed.” Neil laughs, “he was just always so confident and sure of himself… I always wanted to be like that, nothing ever got to him.”

“Has that changed?” Todd’s questions were always short and straight to the point. Startling upfrontness in the most unexpected of moments. It was something Todd was known for.

“Not really… I mean, I try to get him to open up… he just isn’t an emotions type of person, I think?” Neil scratches the back of his head. “During our 9th year he went through something really big and not great, but he didn’t tell me a single word about it. To this day I have no idea wahat happened. I tried asking but it didn’t lead anywhere… all I know is some kid had been expelled but it didn’t look like him and Charlie fought or anything because they spent so much time together ....” Neil trails off.

“You know people stare at us sometimes.” Todd blankly states, an unconscious switch being flicked immediately. “When we’re walking to classes, when we go into our dorm, when we exchange smiles in classes… They bump their friends with their shoulders and snicker under their breaths… Have you noticed that Neil?”

Neil’s walking pace slows slightly, “Uh… no, I-uh I didn’t… Do they think we’re-“ “-Maybe.” Todd interrupts before Neil can say The Word. “Bu-but we aren’t, I mean, you were talking about that girl from-“ “-Yeah! Ginny, from the play, wow, I mean, she’s just great.” “Yeah, I’m sure she is.”

God.

This got awkward.

Nice one Todd.

Did it again.

Ink splatters dried on the paper he cradled so delicately, he stares at the contents once more.

“what wouldn't i give to love myself as feverishly as I love you? what is the opposite of amnesia? that is what you are. sometimes i cant find my way around my memories. i have to take detours… i think you were the best one.

little fragments of joy pepper my vacancy i didn't know that i should want to be hopeful or that being hopeful meant giving up some intrinsic part of me.

last night i had a dream that we were breathing underwater flying high in the sky, arms outstretched, laughing, smiling, hugging, bodies pressed onto one another. it didn’t last long. piece by wretched, fragile piece i throw out every hated qualm of thee your impenetrable stare fixed onto me

i have hoped for love that is beyond you being caught by me or me trying to slip through the cracks. they read me, you, us, with their glacial eyes and think they know but they don't

and it seems neither do we.”

“Wow, Todd. This is so… different. But good! It’s just, I’ve never seen anything like this in our English class, in the poems we’ve studied… I just… wow.” Neil looks up at Todd, eyes so soft, Neil knows how big of a deal this is to Todd. He doesn’t just share his work with anyone.

“I-I’m glad you liked it.” Todd smiles, it’s almost as if he’s had to completely remove himself from himself in order to let Neil observe and compliment this part of him, he takes the page out of Neil’s hands and places it in his book. “What-er, who was it about?” Neil gingerly queries. “I- uh, well.” Todd’s heating up now, he should’ve expected Neil to ask him this question. Dammit. Why was he so stupid for letting him read it. “Well, I-I don’t think you necessarily have to go through something to write a-about it, it-it’s fiction for a reason.”

Neil’s lips downturn slightly, “I guess, but everything that we produce in art- whether that be acting, or poetry writing, painting- whatever… it… subconsciously shows something that you might not necessarily want to show or see, right? Like how Keating got us the other day to choose a poem we liked and recite it… It tells you so much about a person. When Charlie was reading his poem… wasn't all you could think about was how bleak it was?” Neil continues, “The academically and poetically rigorous selection made by Cameron or Knox’s complete devotion and enamoration with the simplest emotion of the human being, love? We hide these parts of ourselves, maybe we view them as flaws and faults of our cognitive machine, but art reveals them all.” Neil delivered a love poem to the class himself. He takes a big breath and lets the words he just spoke sit in the air of their dorm for a while.

“Into the meadows dawn..” Todd clicks his fingers, a vague ritual to jog his memory. “flashes my faun.” Todd recites “O Hunter, snare me his shadow… O Nightingale catch me his strain. Else moonstruck with music and madness, I track him in vain” all they’re doing is staring at each other.

“You- you remembered my poem?” Neil questions. “Yeah- I went to the library after you said it- wanted to see if there was more… Oscar Wilde…” “Yeah.” “I notice them staring now that you mentioned it.” Neil breaks the trajectory of the conversation, “God, they’re all so stupid, it’s as if Judy Garland and President Eisenhower just strutted into the school, arms interlocked!” Todd chuckles. Then more silence.

“Has anything changed, Neil?” “What do you mean?” “Between us. What this is. Our comradely bond, as Keating puts it.” Todd chuckles, “ Our co-dependence, attachment at the hip.”

More silence…

“I-I think…” Neil finally states, “that it was never anything it wasn’t already… perhaps we ignored it, suppressed the feeling… but… it was always there.”

“For me, at least.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

~~~

The wind pierced Todd’s skin in tiny microscopic ways, embedding itself under the protection of his coat and completely evading the rest of his physical form, though perhaps the wind wasn’t the cause of the spine-curdling ache he felt, but simply an additional symptom.

Bells rang, green and red Christmas themed paraphernalia adorned the streets he’d previously been driving through, staring out the window at lights and snow that trickled onto an already naturally bleached layer of the ground. His footprints leave indents and obtain a slippery consistency to the outer sole and toe cap. He treads more carefully.

His hands clutch the leather cover of the journal he is hiding underneath his jacket, minimising any further damage that may soon come its way, finally, through minutes of soul-searching and carefully treading through stones and flowers, he makes his way to Neil.

He looks at him with a certain sense of fragility, his stone head protruding from the ground and covered in snow. Todd wipes some away to see the carvings made into him. His full name. Aged 17. Dutiful son of Tom and Susan Perry.

The newness of it all sends a pang to Todd’s stomach as he looks at the other stones weathered with age and the constant bombardment of the elements. That’ll be Neil one day. Flowers not fresh and carvings unreadable. Forgotten to the world and all its inhabitants, rotting in satin lining and cherry oak wood. Todd stifles back a sob and covers his mouth, forcing himself to get it together for just this moment.

“Merry Christmas Neil.” Todd whispers, the words can barely come out. “You-you’re not here physically but you’re here with me, and Charlie, and-and all the other Dead Poets.” he continues, “though- though Charlie isn’t here technically either. He left. Had to. He’s not graduating, at least he’s not at Welton” Todd looks down, brushes his emerging tears away with his shoulder

“I just wanted to come here and give you your gift, I’ve had it in the making for a while now, you’ve seen some of it already. I wish I could’ve given it to you earlier… if I had known this would happen.” he pulls out the journal, and opens it up.

“Here, I’ll read you some.” Todd, though already cold and miserable, situates himself next to Neil’s cold headstone and leans his head on it, opening the journal's contents to its first page.

“Dear Neil,” Todd’s starts, but adds an offside, “It’s dated on the 7th of a while back, my-my birthday.”

“I hope this book finds you well,” Todd’s breath hitches, “especially considering that I’m probably too anxious to deliver it to you. What you’ll see here is what we spoke about the night we first kissed. About freeing ourselves from any subconscious fear or dichotomous dread of both working with and against the grain or being liked or disliked. The people I look up to the most are inspirationally unpopular. So, here’s a suite of poems by yours truly. Hopefully you’ll find your own meaning and reverence in the words my brain has conjured up, words mostly pertaining to you. Every inch of your being alive has me transfixed and enamoured, and I’m truly gobsmacked on the good deed I must’ve committed to have deserved having you in my life.” Todd’s face is red and stuffy from the cold and his breathing is short and punctured.

“You’re sleeping right near me at this moment, and as a sweaty toothed madman once said. We were together. I forgot the rest. Consider this journal a detachable limb of my own self, something you can always carry around and know that I am with you, always. You can suck the life force, the bone marrow out of the words I have written in here and I would applaud and encourage you to do so. Without you, I have no idea where I’d be right now. I owe you so much Neil, you’ve taught me that sometimes the world can be good. That a person’s smile can brighten an entire room. A performance perfectly acted can be a person’s ultimate achievement and their triumph. You are the word phenomenal incarnate Neil, I hope my words do you some sort of justice.

You deserve the world, Neil. I’m brainstorming ways to give it to you.

With love, Todd.”

——————————————————————————

i hope you guys enjoyed!! its fucking brutal honestly but needed some angst and tragedy in my fictional life to reflect my own.

just a preface that some of the poem todd read's is borrowed from pete wentz old emo livejournal posts because i need to somehow tie my two big interests together and MAN does that man write some gay ass shit. hope your heart doesnt hurt too much <3

creds to @neilscrown on tiktok for posting the headcanon "Todd definitely bought Neil a Christmas present and he never got the chance to give it to him so he would sit in his once shared room and stare at it" it tore my HEART OUT and inspired this rambling

#dead poets society #dead poets #dead poets honour #dead poets fanfiction #anderperry #anderperry fanfic #todd anderson #neil perry #todd and neil

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starlingflight · 3 years

Link

@thisismegz as requested, the missing scenes from Everything I Wanted of Ginny dealing with her guilt over how things went between her and Dean.

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The sun felt especially bright contrasted as it was by nearly a full day in the dungeons with no one but Snape for company. Harry savoured the way the light summer breeze tickled his uncovered arms and the way Ginny’s hand felt in his as they made their way out into the grounds.

It seemed the majority of Hogwarts’ population had decided to take advantage of the good weather, for the lawn beside the lake was crowded with huddles of students. Their usual tree was already taken by a noisy group of fourth-year girls and so Ginny led him to a free patch of grass not far from the lake's stony shore. She sat cross-legged on the ground, pulling Harry with her.

He went to position himself beside her but Ginny clearly had other ideas, she shuffled slightly, placing her hands on his shoulders and smoothly guided Harry’s head into her lap so that he was lying on the soft grass with Ginny above him, her fingers tracing lightly across his forehead.

“If your brother sees this he’s going to lose his mind,” Harry warned, though in truth he was finding it difficult to care. The headache that had been building behind his eyes, caused by a long day in the dark, stuffy dungeon was receding with every stroke of Ginny’s fingers over his skin.

Unsurprisingly, Ginny seemed to care even less about Ron’s reaction than Harry did. Her only response to his warning was to gently slide his glasses off and place them carefully on the grass beside them, making it easier for her fingers to trace the features of his face without obstruction.

Neither of them said anything for a while, Ginny was now little more than a blur of creamy skin and striking red hair above him. Eventually, Harry let his eyes slowly drift closed, revelling in the feel of her fingers on his face and the sweet, floral smell of her shampoo drifting to him on the summer breeze.

Snape became nought but a distant memory under Ginny’s careful attention and Harry was vaguely considering that there was a strong chance he was going to fall asleep, warm and content as he was, when Ginny broke the silence between them.

“I think I'm going to apologise to Dean," She declared.

It took Harry a moment to register what she’d said, his brain felt fuzzy from the heat. When his wits finally caught up with him, Harry almost asked her why but he immediately realised he didn’t need to.

He’d seen the guilt on Ginny’s face last night and he’d felt the same thing himself. They’d both admitted they’d been in denial about their feelings for each other for a while and maybe that was no one’s fault but it didn’t change the fact that Dean had been caught up in it.

“If I tell you I think it’s a bad idea are you going to think it’s because I’m jealous or threatened or something?”

Ginny's fingers were still stroking lightly across his cheeks, over the bridge of his nose, across his forehead and Harry found that it was almost impossible to feel jealous given his current situation.

“No,” She said mildly. “I’m going to ask you why you think that, though.”

He’d rather she didn’t but if Harry was being honest with himself, he knew her better than to expect Ginny to blindly accept what he was saying. “I’ve been in his position. I watched you with him for months, and I didn’t expect you to break up or begrudge either of you your happiness or anything but…”

Harry trailed off, still not used to telling anyone his deepest feelings and still not entirely comfortable with it.

"But?" Ginny prompted, one of her hands working its way up into Harry's hair, massaging his scalp. He felt himself relax immediately.

"But there isn't anything you could have said to me to make me feel better about the situation, to make me not want you."

Ginny's hands didn't stop their slow exploration of his hair for even a second. "It's not the same thing," She said without missing a beat.

"How isn't it?"

"It was never like this with Dean," Ginny unwound one of her hands from his hair in order to gesture between the two of them before quickly returning it, much to Harry's delight. "I was never this happy, not even at the start. The thing that you were waiting for is so much better than what Dean lost."

Secretly, Harry wholeheartedly disagreed with this. The thing that he'd been waiting for, the thing that Dean lost, was Ginny and there were no words on the planet that could ease the devastating blow that Harry already knew would come from ever losing her.

"You really want to talk to him?" Harry asked, knowing it was pointless to argue with her when she'd already made her mind up.

“I really do,” Ginny responded and Harry knew the matter was settled.

“Okay,” He agreed. “Did you want to go now?” He added reluctantly, he could quite happily stay in this spot for the rest of his life.

“No,” Ginny said quickly, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss to Harry’s lips. “I’ve been waiting all day for you to get out of detention, you’re staying right where you are.”

Ginny and Dean did not cross paths for the rest of the weekend. Nor was he anywhere to be seen at breakfast or lunch on Monday. Ginny was beginning to strongly suspect that he was avoiding her when she quite literally walked into him on her way out of Ancient Runes on Monday afternoon.

“Sorry - oh!” Dean’s apologetic smile faltered as he took Ginny in.

“I’ve been looking for you!” Ginny said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, though Dean still didn’t look cheered at her pronouncement.

“Er, have you?”

“Yeah, do you mind if we go somewhere and talk?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed suspiciously in a way that made Ginny’s heart sink. They’d been friends for years, they’d been close since the first D.A. meeting and now the two of them had reached a point where the prospect of holding a conversation was enough to set Dean on edge.

“It’ll be really quick, I promise.” Ginny tried again, hoping her face held as much sincerity as she currently felt.

“Alright,” Dean said reluctantly, gesturing for Ginny to lead the way.

There was a low wooden bench halfway down the corridor, under a row of mullioned windows which revealed the sweeping vistas of the Hogwarts grounds and the lake. If nothing else, at least the view would be pleasant.

Ginny took a seat on the bench and Dean followed her lead; she couldn’t help but note he was sitting as far away from her as physically possible. One good shove and he’d topple over onto the castle’s stone floor.

“How have you been?” She began cautiously.

“Fine,” Dean responded. Ginny raised a sceptical eyebrow. Dean had always been forthcoming with his feelings, one-word answers weren’t his style at all. “I’ve been good, Ginny. I’ve been working on my art - I’ve had a lot of emotion to channel into my drawings, I think I’ve got some really good ones for my portfolio.”

Ginny nodded, trying not to think too hard about what emotions Dean may have been using to fuel his creative pursuits. “You were always very talented.”

It was Dean’s turn to raise a dubious eyebrow at Ginny now. “Is that what you wanted to say to me? You like my drawings?”

“No, I wanted to apologise,” She said slowly, half-expecting Dean to shut her down before she’d explained herself. When he said nothing, but continued to look at her expectantly Ginny took a deep breath before continuing. “I should have ended things between us long before I did. I knew your feelings were stronger than mine and I shouldn’t have kept stringing you along.”

Dean listened patiently as Ginny spoke, but he began to shake his head in disagreement as she finished. “That wasn’t what bothered me. It was that I could clearly see where things were going between the two of you, but you were so adamant that I was seeing things that weren’t there. It was frustrating.”

Ginny began to fiddle nervously with the ends of her hair, slipping the long strands between the ends of her fingers. “You’re right,” She said quietly, looking not at Dean but out of the window where she could just make out the Giant Squid’s tentacles rising out of the water in the distance. “I know it probably doesn’t help, but I hope you know I wasn’t lying to you on purpose - I really believed our banter and joking was innocent, it was unbelievable to me that Harry might actually have liked me.”

Dean made a noise halfway between a snort and a chuckle; Ginny looked back from the window to find that he was smiling at her. “Of course he liked you, have you seen you?”

“Stop it!” Ginny exclaimed, reaching out and shoving Dean lightly enough that he didn’t fall off the bench as she’d been worried he might earlier. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you!”

“You stop it!” Dean argued through a laugh. “Serious conversations don’t suit you at all!”

Ginny grinned, it had been so long since they’d joked with one another. Even in the weeks before they’d broken up all they’d done was argue. “Does that mean we can be friends?”

“Honestly, I think friends will suit us better than a relationship ever did,” Dean said sincerely. “No offence, but I didn’t find the constant fighting particularly enjoyable and I don’t think you did either.”

Ginny chose not to answer, there was no point in going over their old fights now. When she looked back on her time with Dean it was as though she was remembering something from a different lifetime. Instead, she pushed herself up from the bench and waited for Dean to join her. “Come on, let’s go and set the Hogwarts rumour mill alight by walking into dinner together.”

Dean fell into step beside Ginny without protest, the cautious, guarded look that had been upon his face at the beginning of the conversation was no longer in sight.

#hinny #harry x ginny #dean thomas #hp fanfic #hbp missing moment

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rheawritessometimes · 3 years

Text

Let’s Fall in Love for the Night

{ Kaeya x Reader }

{ Summary } Kaeya keeps you company for the night. A songfic based loosely on Let’s Fall in Love for the Night by FINNEAS.

{ Warnings } Yelling, Alcohol, Intoxication, Kissing, Mild Physical Intimacy, Possible Mild Angst, Swearing, Overuse of Commas.

{ Notes } Can be read as reader being gender neutral, some parts suggest them being a bit feminine, I think it’s just one detail, but just to be safe. Reader is implied to be shorter than Kaeya because this was self indulgent and I forget not everyone is short like me. Kaeya doesn’t wear an eyepatch and both eyes are functional. He said there was nothing wrong with his eye and Kaeya would never lie. Reader also briefly talks about something a little nerdy. Hot by Confetti is also mentioned in this fic, I recommend listening to that and Let’s Fall in Love for the Night, for a better idea of the vibes and also because they’re good songs. The lyrics written in don’t follow the song exactly, I just put them in where I felt they fit. This has not been beta read and it’s my first time ever writing a fanfiction so it’s not very good. Feel free to send me feedback, I’d really like tips on improvement. Seriously, I have no idea what I’m doing. Please let me know if there is anything that should be added to the warnings. Masterlist

{ Word Count } 4,117

It has been a few years now since you’ve gotten to know the Ragnvindr brothers. You had spent a lot of time together with the both of them, more so before the fallout between them. Things had become tense since then, but the friendship you had with each of them was maintained, if a little different now. Now you mostly spent time with the brothers separately, going out with Kaeya and staying in with Diluc. Every once in a while they were able to tolerate each other and you could all hang out for a little while, but it never seemed to last.

It had become somewhat of a tradition for you to go to the club Diluc worked at when he was bartending. The majority of the time, Kaeya would accompany you since Diluc usually worked later into the night than you liked to stay out. It was routine for Kaeya to take you home in Diluc’s stead, not to mention Kaeya could keep a better eye on you than his brother was able to while he was working. In this way, you could still hang out with both of them. Sort of.

Most nights Diluc worked the bar, you were there keeping him company and carrying light-hearted conversation through the night. It was no secret to Kaeya, or anyone who had seen you and Diluc together for that matter, that you had feelings for each other. With the way you got along with Diluc and how you spent most of your time together, Kaeya sensed it was only a matter of time before one of you confessed and made things official.

Kaeya had spent many nights observing you and Diluc in his peripheral, wanting to give you two some space without losing track of you. All those nights and not once had he heard Diluc shout at you like he was now, the menacing tone in his voice. As a matter of fact, he’d never witnessed Diluc yell at you at all. Even with the volume of his shouts, making out Diluc’s words was impossible for Kaeya given the mixture of music and conversation in the club. It didn’t matter to him what was being said anyway.

The way your eyes widened at the outburst and you stepped back away from the bar had Kaeya rising out of his seat. In a few quick strides, he was at your side and leaning over to place his nearly empty glass on the bar. With the intent of driving you home at the end of the night in mind, he’d avoided anything alcoholic, despite his appreciation for such beverages.

He felt you looking up at him once you realized his presence, but his gaze was fixed firmly on Diluc. Still, he threw an arm casually around your shoulder in a subtly protective gesture that caused the redhead to bristle. Kaeya took your lack of negative reaction as a sign of acceptance of the contact.

Kaeya wore a charming smile, but his icy eyes were narrowed at his brother, who fixed him with a withering glare in return. He smirked internally at having so easily gotten under Diluc’s skin. After a short beat passed with neither of the men saying anything, Kaeya looked down at you with a soft expression, eyes suddenly seeming much warmer. Kind of like how he always felt so much warmer around you.

“It’s getting late, darling. Want me to take you home?” he asked with a gentle tone, despite you two having arrived not long ago. He had noticed your eyes were glassy with unshed tears, his heart clenched at the sight, and he wanted to give Diluc a solid punch in the jaw for upsetting you. Asking you to leave was a sure way to piss Diluc off, so that would have to do for now. Ever since you had gotten closer with the man he seemed insistent on keeping you away from Kaeya as much as possible. He hardly tolerated Kaeya even bringing you to the club, even though you only went to spend time with Diluc.

I’m the boy that your boy hoped that you would avoid Don’t waste your eyes on jealous guys, fuck that noise.

“Don’t you dare leave with him,” Diluc growled out before you responded, not seeming to care if his raised voice drew the attention of the other patrons at this point. Kaeya could feel you tense under his arm and he clenched his jaw, restraining himself from giving in to his desire to break Diluc’s jaw. Well, maybe breaking it was a little much. A nice bruise would do.

“Yeah, I’m ready to go. Thanks, Kaeya,” you said, voice quiet with a nearly undetectable tremble. You looked up to him and gave a soft smile, but Kaeya would wager by the tension in your expression that the gesture was because you couldn’t bear to look at Diluc. As the angered man opened his mouth to speak, Kaeya turned on his heel and used his grip on your shoulder to quickly sweep you away from the bar and out of the club. He didn’t think you would want to listen to anything else Diluc had to say tonight.

As the cool night air greeted you both, Kaeya pulled you tighter into his side as a gesture of comfort. He cast his glance down to you while you made your way towards his car, but your gaze was focused straight ahead. Your eyes were still glassy, but it didn’t look like you had shed any tears, and your hands were fidgeting slightly, which made him frown.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” he asked gently once you were both inside the vehicle, brows drawn together with concern. At the shake of your head, he simply nodded in understanding. Kaeya hadn’t expected you to want to talk about it, certainly not so soon, but it seemed right to ask just in case.

As soon as the car was cruising comfortably down the road, Kaeya saw you lean forward to mess with the radio. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards at this subtle sign you were feeling a little better. He remained mostly focused on the road and the drive to your house continued without any conversation between you two. It was a comfortable quiet that Kaeya hoped would soothe you.

I like to push my luck So take my hand, let’s take a drive.

“Why don’t we keep driving around for a bit?” he asked after a few minutes, noticing you still had a troubled frown etched on your face as you neared your home. He imagined you were still thinking about what had happened between you and Diluc and he hated the thought of just dropping you off at home and leaving you alone like this.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Kaeya made an effort to keep to roads he knew didn’t see much traffic. He stuck to the scenic route, long winding roads with a view that you could just look out the window and enjoy the sunset. It wasn’t long before he found himself enjoying this quiet time with you despite no words being exchanged.

It seemed that you enjoyed the time too, at least Kaeya thought you looked a lot more at peace by your expression. He decided it was best to begin heading towards your house since you seemed to be in better spirits, not to mention the strange guilt he felt over keeping you around too long. It felt like he was betraying both you and Diluc, in a way.

Once he had parked in your driveway, Kaeya looked over to examine your condition. You still seemed to be fidgeting with your sleeve and he only noticed he’d been staring harder than he meant, entranced by you, when you paused standing in the ajar door of his car, looking down at him.

“Um, do you... do you want to stay for a while?” you asked meekly, rubbing the back of your neck.

“It’s just, I’m feeling a little,” you couldn’t explain your emotions to him, “Well, it’s been a while since we’ve spent some time together, just the two of us. I’ve, I’ve kind of missed it. And I kind of ruined your night out... Or, if you want to go home that’s fine, obviously-”

Kaeya cut you off with a light-hearted laugh, unbuckling his seatbelt. The rush of happiness he felt after hearing you wanted him to stay had him turning his head to hide his smile from you, certain he was grinning like a fool. Despite the way his heart surged, in his mind he knew better than to think you wanted anything more than comfort.

Let’s fall in love for the night And forget in the mornin’.

“Darling, you didn’t ruin anything. How could I possibly pass up the opportunity to spend some time with you? It sounds like a far better way to spend my night, anyways,” he replied with a grin as he climbed out of the car. He came around to take your hand in his, leading you to the door. He was still smiling at you once you had both made your way inside.

Kaeya let go of your hand when you started to pull away and head towards the kitchen. He didn’t follow you, comfortable enough to head into your living room instead. It had been quite a while since he’d been over, but not much had changed in that time. Standing in the living room, Kaeya still felt a strong sense of you from the home as he looked around.

Hearing the wooden floorboards creak softly, Kaeya looked over to see you making your way into the living room. He smiled at the two bottles and a wine glass in your hands. One was a bottle of his favorite dandelion wine and the other was a cheap vodka. He could distinctly recall you saying you kept the vodka around because it gets the job done quickly, as you had put it. Keeping wine in your home was new to him, though. You never seemed to care for it very much in the past.

Unless you kept it here for him?

His smile fell a little as he shook the thought from his head, it was nothing more than wishful thinking. Kaeya scolded himself internally, he knew better than to hope for feelings from you. Even after the outburst tonight, you’d be back to Diluc in the morning. Kaeya knew that. You must have just developed a taste for it.

“Oh, does someone feel like partying?” he asked with a playful laugh.

“Well, I still feel bad you missed out on having some fun at the club tonight,” you said with a sheepish smile, proffering him the bottle of wine and glass. He noticed the lack of a glass for yourself and couldn’t help but think drinking straight from the bottle was more your style anyway.

“I always have fun when I’m with you,” he told you earnestly, “But I won’t say no to some good wine.” The way you laughed at his response had his heart skipping a beat as he took your offerings. He couldn’t help but smile in return.

Opening the bottle, he poured himself a generous glass of the dandelion wine, taking a moment to appreciate the aroma. When he looked back up to you after setting the bottle down, he observed you scrolling on your phone.

“What kind of music do you want to listen to?” you asked, not looking at him as you opened the appropriate app on your phone. He noticed the Bluetooth radio sitting on the side table next to the couch light up.

Play me a song that you like

“Put on whatever you want,” he answered, listening to you hum with indecision as he took a sip from the glass in his hand. Delicious.

You had picked your favorite playlist, letting it play quietly in the background while you caught up with Kaeya, who was leaning back into the couch and sipping on his wine. He wondered how long it had been since you guys just talked like this.

I love it when you talk that nerdy shit, We’re in our twenties talking thirties shit.

“Hey, did you know recombinant fusant yeasts are being studied to improve the flavor of cider while simultaneously lowering the alcohol content?” you asked absently as you looked at his glass of wine.

“Oh? I didn’t know that, maybe Diluc would know more,” he responded, not wanting to mention that he wasn’t entirely sure what you were saying. Diluc was the one who knew about alcohol, Kaeya just enjoyed it.

“Yeah, I was watching a documentary about it,” you continued, too busy recounting the details to notice Kaeya staring at you. He didn’t need to understand, he was more than happy to just listen to you talk. It wasn’t that he wasn’t paying attention, but you didn’t really explain the concepts he’d never even heard of.

It wasn’t long before the two of you were suitably drunk and lost deep in pleasant conversation. Things had become a bit derailed, moving on to far less complicated topics. It felt so easy, no doubt thanks to all the time you had spent getting familiar with one another in the past.

“Last weekend, Venti got so drunk he called me panicking over,” you paused to laugh some, “locking himself inside his car. He’s crying to me that he can’t get his door open and is sobbing to me about how he can’t afford to fix his window if he has to break it to get out. He was crying so loud about how he just wanted to get his jacket that he couldn’t even hear most of what I said trying to convince him not to break the windows. It took me thirty minutes to get him to calm down enough so that I could explain to him that he could unlock the car door from the inside. He suddenly goes real quiet and I hear a click and the door opening before he’s crying again about he’s so relieved I saved his life.”

Your laughter from telling the story was infectious and Kaeya thought it had been an awfully long time since he laughed so much. He couldn’t help but think he had been smiling an awful lot tonight, even before he was drunk.

“Wait, shh, I love this one,” you said suddenly, standing up and turning the volume of your radio up. His laughter was silenced and his heart sped up when you grabbed both his hands to pull him up with you. Once he was on his feet and his thoughts became a little more focused, he found you beginning to sway to the beat. You looked at him with such an expectant expression that he couldn’t deny you. Kaeya joined in, moving easily to the music as he roughly mimicked your style.

You can bet I’ll know every line.

Your eyes widened slightly when the first lyrics came and Kaeya began singing along with a casual ease. There was no way you were good for his heart, he found himself thinking with the way you had his heart skipping a beat when your eyes lit up and crinkle at the corners as you smiled in response to him knowing the song. When you joined in singing with him, he was sure you were no good for his heart.

Let’s fall in love for the night And forget in the mornin’.

For a moment he closed his eyes, wishing he could spend forever in this moment with you. He was in love with your smile, the way you danced, the way you sang, he couldn’t think of anything he didn’t love. His heart ached at the knowledge it would be gone in the morning. Here you were dancing and singing with him, but once you sobered up your heart would be back with Diluc.

You won’t stay with me I know,

“Oh baby, take a look at me, Oh baby, do you like what you see? Oh baby, take a look at me, 'Cause I'm the hottest motherfucker that you've ever seen,” Kaeya sang, winking at you as he danced sexily.

He noticed at this that your voice no longer joined his, causing him to pause for a moment to scan your expression. You were still smiling at him in a way that had him all too aware of his heart pounding in his chest. Kaeya wasn’t sure he had ever felt like this before.

“It’s like this song was written with you in mind,” you laughed, taking both his hands and bringing them up to your face to brush a kiss against his knuckles. Such a simple action had all rational thought leaving his head in an instant, it helped that he was drunk too. He pulled you closer by your hands before dropping them to cup your cheeks in his hands and bring your lips to his.

But you can have your way with me until you go.

Your eager return of his kiss had his heart nearly pounding out of his chest, he was sure he would be going into cardiac arrest shortly. Worth it. He leaned into it, quick to match your energy and rhythm. Kaeya felt your hands on his chest and mindlessly allowed you to walk him back until the back of his legs hit your couch. The kiss broke as he fell back onto the cushions but as he opened his eyes he found you right there with him, now straddling his lap and reaching up to pull his face back to yours. His hands found your waist as you kissed him again, and despite the nagging feeling of this being wrong in the back of his mind, he found himself powerless to resist you.

And before your kisses turn to bruises, I’m a warning

Kaeya didn’t stop you when your lips moved down to kiss his jaw, trailing slowly down to his neck. All he could do was let his head fall back on the couch and sigh when you started to suck a bruise into the exposed skin. He knew he should stop you but this was what he had wanted so badly for so long. Not to mention his thoughts felt like they were passing in slow motion, head fuzzy from the combination of alcohol and you.

Let’s fall in love for the night And forget in the mornin’.

Surely it was okay to indulge just once, especially when you would probably forget in the morning anyways.

When you pulled away and looked him in the eyes your face was flushed, more than he remembered it being just a few moments ago. He brought his head back up to look at you, gaze dropping to your lips for a moment, grip on your hips tightening almost imperceptibly. Your brows were furrowed and your expression was nervous as you gripped his shirt gently.

“Um, will you stay the night?” you asked, looking away from him shyly. He was about to turn you down but you hastily continued, “Not for anything else! I mean just to sleep! You, um, I don’t want… You were drinking and I don’t want you to drive home. If, uh, anything happened I don’t think I could ever forgive myself and-”

I know better than to call you mine.

“Hey, easy. I’ll stay,” he soothed, gently rubbing your sides, unable to deny you. He could have called a ride, but he wanted to stay with you. He convinced himself in his head that he could be gone before you woke up and leave you a text. Surely you’d forget about all of this in the morning. Even if you didn’t, surely you’d act like it never happened and be back to Diluc.

You nodded, smiling softly at him, “Thanks.”

It wasn’t very long after that Kaeya found himself in your room getting ready for bed. Initially, he had insisted on sleeping on the couch at first but you were so goddamn stubborn and he was so goddamn weak for you. Plus, you two had slept in the same bed before. Sure it was when you were still kids and hadn’t just been making out, but certainly this was the same. He wondered if you knew just how much you had him wrapped around your finger.

He sat on the edge of the bed lost in his thoughts, looking up when he heard you coming back in from the bathroom dressed in an oversized T-shirt and shorts. You had offered to find something more comfortable for him to wear but he assured you he was fine wearing what he had on. He couldn’t imagine you possibly having anything that would fit him, anyway.

You turned off the ceiling light on your way in but the soft glow of a bedside lamp still illuminated your figure. Kaeya found himself staring at you as you crawled into the bed on the side opposite him and was silently thankful that the dim lighting probably concealed his intense gaze.

“If you’re uncomfortable I can put some pillows between us,” you hesitantly offered once you had settled in your place. “But I promise I have no plan to jump you in the middle of the night.”

Your addition had Kaeya laughing softly, shaking his head, “No, it’s alright. I don’t think I would mind, either.” He winked at you, causing you to laugh too.

“Goodnight, Kaeya,” you said softly, leaning over to turn off the bedside lamp.

“Goodnight, love.”

It wasn’t long before Kaeya was beginning to drift off, the remnants of the alcohol in his system dragging him down. He was on the edge of unconsciousness when a sudden awareness swept through him. He found you had made your way into his arms and he could distinctly feel the weight of your head resting on his chest. He was gently stroking your hair and, now that he was somewhat conscious, praying that the pounding of his heart didn’t wake you up.

Let’s fall in love for the night And forget in the mornin’.

Just for tonight, I’ll be gone before you wake up, he told himself as an excuse to allow himself to indulge. Just for tonight.

Kaeya woke up to a pounding headache, groaning lightly as he reluctantly opened his eyes. He found himself not in his room and with you sleeping in his arms. He stared down at you, unable to help himself, as he absently wondered what was going on. Oh, right. The memories of last night were quick to come back and they made his heart ache now that he had to let you go.

He began slowly trying to move you off him, being as cautious as possible to avoid waking you. Kaeya was just sliding out of bed thinking he had been successful when your eyes fluttered open, landing on him almost immediately. Your expression changed to one of thought and confusion, a frown crossing your face and Kaeya could only assume you were trying to remember last night.

“Good morning sleeping beauty. Want me to get you some water?” he was quick to ask, hoping to distract you from your thoughts. He offered you a charming smile, hoping all was forgotten so you didn’t regret anything.

“Kaeya, about last night...” Fuck. His heart sank at the words, the smile he had been wearing quickly disappearing, “I’m really sor-”

I know better than to ever call you mine.

“Hey, it’s okay. I get it, we were drunk. It was an accident,” he cut you off with a smile even he could tell wasn’t convincing. His heart couldn’t take hearing you tell him you regretted it, worse if you didn’t want to see him again.

“No, wait, no it- I mean… Well, um, I really shouldn’t have kissed you like that, especially without saying anything. But, I- Well I don’t really… want to call it a mistake,” your cheeks were bright red as you stammered, unable to look Kaeya in the eyes, instead keeping your head bowed to stare down at the sheets. Kaeya was silently thankful you weren’t looking at him because he didn’t think his surprised expression was a very good look for him.

“For a while, well, I really like you Kaeya. And I know we were drunk and I don’t expect you to feel the same, it just felt weird not to tell you after… that. And it’s okay that you don’t like me and I’d really like to still be friends but if you don’t want-”

Kaeya cut off your nervous babbling by gently holding your cheeks between his hands, making you look at him. The blush spread across your face deepened in color as you stared up in silence. The heat consuming you would only get more intense with his next words.

“I’m in love with you.”

#.rhea writes #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya #genshin impact #genshin kaeya #fanfiction #fanfic #songfic #angst #diluc #am i doing tags right?#kaeya simp #self indulgent #i simp so hard for kaeya #i really made a whole blog just for this fic #this is embarassing

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so-writing · 3 years

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Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (22)

all parts here

“Is it ok if we don’t invite anyone over?”

The two of you had eaten your fill but there was so much extra food that you felt a little guilty about your question. Allowing yourself to bring your walls down around Matt alone was hard enough, introducing his friends into the mix would be too much at once.

You knew them all and no one would treat your poorly or anything like that, but the suspicions about the two of you they probably already had would be confirmed. You were smart enough to know that both Matt and yourself had been acting weird around each other lately, so there was no way no one else noticed.

“Of course, will you help me pack up the extra stuff? Only what you want though, we’re about to fill your fridge.”

“Matt, really? I don’t need all this.”

“I know, but I want to make sure you remember tonight and leftovers will help.”

The two of you put the food into containers and walked them to your apartment in near silence. It was awkward as hell, the only sound being your key turning in the lock and footsteps as you both stepped inside.

“Onyx!”

Matt set the containers he had on your counter and rushed over to pick up the purring cat. Onyx nuzzled his head against Matt’s neck and settled happily in his arms, more than content with being loved on. Thank fuck for him though, because you had no idea how to break the tension that had followed you from the hall and into your apartment.

“I kind of forget he exists sometimes but then I see him again and remember how good of friends we are.”

“He’s going to be good friends with everyone who treats him like that,” you waved your hand in Matt’s direction, “I’m going to put this stuff away.”

As far as dates went, this one hadn’t been too bad. Matt had gone out of his way to get more food than would ever be necessary, you had normal conversations while you ate and there was even some laughter. Guilt was eating at you a little bit for keeping the others away but Matt didn’t seem to be bothered.

“Well, I guess this is it?”

The awkward silence returned as soon as you spoke and Matt set Onyx down on the couch.

“What? No, this isn’t the end of the date. Come on back up, I still have stuff planned.”

Locking your door behind you, you let Matt lead you back to his apartment. His body language was kind of weird, and it seemed like he was going to make an attempt to grab your hand, thought better of it, and instantly pulled away, opting instead to stay about a foot ahead of you. Neither of you spoke on the elevator ride up or the walk to his door.

“Matt this is really awkward, I can’t even lie.”

The standard expression on his face shifted into a smile as he unlocked the door and ushered you inside.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m not good at dates. I don’t go on them very often.”

“You usually skip the soft part and go straight to sex, right?”

He definitely didn’t expect that, as evidenced by his wide eyes and red cheeks. When he didn’t respond, you laughed it off, “that was a mostly a joke, because you do have a reputation. Even though we’re just now doing whatever we’re doing, I’ve been here a while.”

“I always forget that.”

“It’s easy to do. You’re a professional hockey player, I’m somebody’s assistant. Had we not been forced to be roommates on, interestingly, the only roadie I’ve had to attend, I wouldn’t be here right now. You would continue to avoid me unless you had to talk to me, which would be short and rude and maybe include an insult, and I would continue to tolerate it to keep my job.”

It was not what he wanted to hear on what was supposed to be a date that was supposed to be the start of something good, but there it was. He had treated her poorly for years and to hear that she would still be continuing to deal with it today if things hadn’t changed was heartbreaking. He felt like his head was being slammed against the ice a thousand times at the sound of just a simple statement.

It hurt even worse because he knew she was right. They would be in the same exact place they had always been in and he would have completely missed out on an opportunity to meet someone who now meant so much to him, he couldn’t see himself without her.

“I don’t know what to say, sorry isn’t enough. I’ve been horrible to you for no reason at all for a long time and I don’t have any excuses as for why. I’m so fucking sorry, I really am. The fact that you had to deal with my abuse all this time, just to keep your paycheck, makes me sick to my stomach.”

“I wouldn’t call it abuse, exactly. Everyone’s got a mean coworker.”

“I made you sleep on the floor, I made you cry, I created a toxic work environment for you for two years and you couldn’t do anything about it. You wouldn’t call that abuse?”

He dropped to the couch and watched her shoulders sag and heard her sigh.

“Matt, look, I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty by saying that. I was just making an observation at how different the circumstances could be had the chips not fallen the way they did.”

He knew that wasn’t her intention, but it didn’t matter. He’d fucked up so much with her and he couldn’t believe she was even there in the first place.

“I don’t deserve you. I want you but I don’t deserve you and you should take the job in Philadelphia.”

What had you done? A lighthearted date that had started with takeout and casual conversation had spiraled into a torrential downpour. He was just begging you not to leave and inappropriately kissing you in the hallway at work and now he was telling to accept the job? What the fuck?

“Can we just stop this? Can we go back to whatever you had planned before I opened my mouth and said some dumb shit? Dates are supposed to be fun, this isn’t fun.”

Matt was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, you didn’t think he was crying but when he raised his head and met your gaze, his eyes were rimmed red and puffy.

“Why are you?! Oh my god!”

You nearly ran to sit down next to him and threw your arms around his shoulders. He didn’t push you away, but he wasn’t trying to hug you back.

“People have to deal with bullshit all the time at work, even you, most hated player in the league. You don’t seem to let it get to you, I didn’t either. The hotel room was rough, yes, but clearly I got over it. I’m here right now aren’t I? You think I would want anything to do with you if I was still upset?”

You eased away from him as he rubbed his face and ran his hands through his curls.

“Jesus, I really am terrible at dates. Crying on one is a first though.”

The tension lessened a little and you stood up from beside him, walking over to the window to take in the view of the city.

“I’m sorry I made you come to some realizations you weren’t ready to face, or maybe didn’t even know existed but I promise that the man here now is not the same one I had to share a shitty hotel mattress with.”

“You mean this one is worse?”

You both chuckled at his half hearted joke and this time, the silence hanging between the two of you was peaceful.

“I didn’t mean what I said before.”

“That you don’t deserve me? Or that I should go to Philly?”

“I meant half of it, I definitely don’t deserve you, but I don’t want you to take the job with the Flyers.”

“I know.”

“Which part of that are you referring to?”

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?”

He joined you by the window and the two of you stood next to each other in silence for a few minutes, both focusing on the view below you and not the confusing mix of emotions dancing around in your heads.

“I’ve gotta be honest, Matt, I’m really tired.”

“You’re probably not willing to sleep here, are you?”

“Not tonight. Tonight has been way too heavy for us to have a fucking sleepover.”

You gently punched his shoulder before pulling him into a hug.

“Can we try again?”

“Of course, we can absolutely try again.”

“I’m sorry for crying, holy fuck, that is so fucking embarrassing, shit.”

“Shut up, Tkachuk, I like a man that isn’t afraid to show his feelings.”

Matt walked you over to his door and pulled you into another tight hug, asking if he could walk you back to yours. Despite his best efforts, you went home alone.

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #matt tkachuk #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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Okay, long time followers will probably remember having read this, but I can’t find the original post and I’m trying to like.....force-reboot/jumpstart me working on my ‘Kings of the Sky’ AU again because I haven’t touched it in awhile and I have like literally eight different installments in various stages of completion and that’s ridiculous even for me. So here’s a repost of the first part of “Teachable Moments” the canon-divergence point of that AU series, where Jason calls Dick for advice after the Garzonas case and everything changes from there.

******

The way Jason Todd warily eyed the device in his hand, one might think it was an instrument of great and terrible destructive power, rather than just…his own personal cell-phone.

To be fair, he was Robin, and pretty used to the idea that even the most unlikely of things could be used for evil in Gotham. It could’ve been stolen and replaced at some point by a henchperson of Mr. Freeze, and using it could unleash some kind of cryogenic freeze ray that would turn him into a Robinsicle. Mad Hatter could be up to shit again, and dialing the phone at this very minute might mean syncing it up with a remote radio signal that would override his natural brainwaves and turn him into Tetch’s mindless minion of like…doom and stuff. Or…or…

Or sometimes, even in Gotham a phone is just a phone, and Freud is still a dumbass. And neither of the above possibilities had anything to do with why Jason was being a giant freaking pansy about entering the last digit of the phone number he would never ever admit to having had memorized for months now.

Nightwing had said to call if he ever needed to talk. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t actually want Jason to call, right? Like, its not as if Jason had remotely been expecting him to do that, so its not the sort of thing someone did just because it was ‘expected’ or shit. He was pretty sure. Rich people manners were weird though. Had to factor that in.

But Nightwing had also even made a point to say not talking to people about stuff was Bruce’s problem and that Jason shouldn’t let it be his problem too, and even though months ago Jason had been a starry-eyed dumbass who was totally drunk on the Bruce is the Bestest Kool-Aid or whatever, ‘Wing had definitely known what he was talking about there. So maybe he’d get it, and having this conversation with him wouldn’t be. Like. The actual worst idea in the history of ever.

Deductive logic said that Jason was getting worked up over nothing and there was no rational reason for him to be this nervous about dialing a fucking phone number. And he’d gotten pretty good at the whole deduction shit, given all the work he and Bruce had put into training his mind to view the world through entirely new paradigms, so Jason was pretty sure his math on that checked out. But on the other hand, Bruce was a hypocritical asshat that Jason was currently not speaking to, so what the fuck did he know about anything?

Aaaaand he was back to square one. Well damn. This was excellent. Very productive. Good hustle out there, Jay.

Sighing gustily, Jason flopped back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying to pretend he hadn’t gotten used to how luxurious and cushion-y his ridiculously expensive mattress was. He’d gotten soft, he told himself. Then he scoffed at the idea that the past year and a half of rigorous Robin training and patrols had made him less tough than the pipsqueak he’d been back when living on the street, getting his ass kicked by bigger and badder on the regular. That hadn’t been hardness, that had been bravado.

But it had gotten him this far in life, so maybe there was something to be said for it after all?

Ugh. Decisions were hard. He objected on principle. He also really wanted to understand why he was this nervous…if he could literally fill the guy’s shoes and kick supervillain ass as Robin, what freaking sense did it make that he couldn’t even call him up on the phone?

Maybe you just know better than to ask him questions you don’t really want to hear his answer to, a smug voice said in the back of his mind. It sounded suspiciously like Willis Todd, which was all kinds of weird and fucked up, cuz Jason was damn sure his abusive a-hole of a deadbeat dad had never said anything that insightful in his life.

Which meant it was his own screwed up subconscious - presenting in the voice of his not so dearly departed douchebag dad, no less - that had Jason reacting out of spite, entering the last number and hitting Talk, all while totally on autopilot. Because apparently we’re all making healthy life choices in this Chili’s tonight, Jason snickered somewhat hysterically while his phone rang once, twice, three times.

Ugh. Was he always this fucked up in the head and he just never noticed, or was it a side effect of running around rooftops in a cape. Inquiring minds wanted to know.

“Hello?” Someone said then, answering on the fourth ring. Jason sat bolt upright, his nervous humor vanishing as quickly and unexpectedly as it’d hijacked him in the first place. For all that he’d only actually interacted with the older man a few times, his voice was instantly recognizable. As was his slight confusion.

Right. Because why would Nightwing have the untraceable number of the latest burner phone Bruce had given Jason, when the ever paranoid Bat had him swapping out phones every freaking week? Duh, Jay.

“Uh, its me,” Jason said hastily, as if he could somehow catch up to and overtake the epically long ten second silence he let lapse before his mouth started making words again. “Jason?”

“Jaybird! Hey! What’s going on?” The older vigilante’s tone instantly morphed into one of surprised delight, so apparent even across the phone that Jason actually pulled it away from his ear and stared at it, as if that could explain Nightwing’s inexplicable giddiness. He’d literally only met the dude three times. Give or take a concussion he was forgetting about maybe? Weird.

Then again, the older man was a circus performer from birth. Might just be good at faking being super excited to hear from people? Whatever. Still weird.

“Uh, you said to call if I was ever having, I dunno, issues with Bruce I guess? So I kinda had a question? I mean, if you’re not busy or anything.”

Just one question? Willis’ voice asked snidely, echoing in time with the rapid tripartite beat of Jason’s heart. Since apparently everything Jason said was trying to come out with a question mark attached to the end of it at the moment. Ugh, fuck you, subconscious, Jason thought forcefully, even as he ransacked the recesses of his mind for that bravado he was thinking about earlier. It had to be in here somewhere…

“No worries dude, I’ve got time. Hit me!” Nightwing said cheerfully. His lighthearted cadences were so at odds with the sweat suddenly breaking out on Jason’s forehead, the younger teen couldn’t help but wince in anticipation of its inevitable change once he got his actual question out. This was a bad idea, he decided, way too fucking late for it to make a difference. He had a hunch Nightwing wouldn’t be content to ‘just forget it’ or whatever even if Jason chickened out now.

So he took a deep breath, shrugged and did what Jason Todd did best. Said fuck it, put pedal to the metal, and drove at full speed for the metaphorical police barricade that was his way of picturing all the things telling him He Should Definitely Just Not.

“Do you think I’m someone who could kill somebody in like, cold blood?”

Aaaaand there went the lightheartedness. Well, he’d definitely stone cold killed that, Jason thought grimly into the silence that followed.

“Huh,” Nightwing said at last. “You’re gonna have to give me a second to switch gears here, Jay. I was kinda expecting something along the lines of ‘how do I avoid Bruce giving me the safe sex talk.’”

Jason flushed and nodded jerkily, not that the older man could see it. Still, it’d been enough of a workout just getting to this point. He didn’t trust what might come out of his mouth next if he kept trying to force it. Thankfully Nightwing didn’t make him wait too long before continuing.

“I think anyone’s capable of killing somebody in the right circumstances,” Jason’s predecessor began carefully. Except that was not remotely what he wanted to hear. Or helpful.

“I’m not looking for platitudes,” Jason grit out, not angry at the other vigilante so much as the whole fucked up mess and his inability to think about anything else at this point. “It’s just a simple fucking question. You’ve met me, do you think like, I’d be capable of just killing somebody or not.”

“I’m not offering platitudes,” Nightwing continued calmly, as if he wasn’t phased by the younger boy’s interruption or sudden aggression at all. “And its not a simple question at all. Speaking from experience, most people wouldn’t think of an eight year old as a cold-blooded killer, but that’s what I could have been if Bruce hadn’t stopped me from killing my parents’ murderer when I first tracked him down. And yet that’s still totally different from when I held a gun on Two-Face barely a couple years later, about to shoot him because somebody else told me to, and because I wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt me. Wouldn’t you agree those are two different situations and two different ‘kinds’ of cold-blooded killer? Context is kinda a big deal here.”

Huh. First off…what the fuck? Jason stared blankly up at the ceiling, trying to hurry up the processing functions of his brain because, again, what the fuck? He was like ninety nine percent positive none of that had been in the Dick Grayson Is The Greatest and Here Are All The Reasons Why brochure he’d had read to him every time someone new found out he was Wayne’s newest stray, and like. Uh. Yeah, that part would have definitely stood out. Because once more, with feeling:

“What the fuck?”

Oops. That hadn’t been supposed to be out loud. Bad mouth. Bad.

Nightwing just did a weird kinda half laugh half sigh combo. Rueful, Jason would describe it, if he were describing it to someone else, which it kind of felt like he was, relaying the conversation to himself now that it’d taken a hard right turn into the surreal.

“Blindsided you with that, huh? Sorry, should’ve figured neither of those are the kinda stories Bruce would want to share with you. Then again, I don’t really have any idea what Bruce has told you about me.”

“Not much,” Jason admitted. Which was a major source of irritation, if he was being honest. The much sung praises of Dick Grayson came from literally everyone he met except for Bruce. Who usually just got a pinched expression whenever Jason brought him up, and a rapid subject change that was not nearly as subtle as Bruce seemed to think it was.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Nightwing sighed. “I hope you haven’t put too much stock in anything else you’ve heard about me then. I’ll admit to a bad habit of enjoying my mystique, so secondhand hearsay tends to lose my best nuances.”

Despite himself, Jason’s lips curved up and he let out a rueful huff of his own. “I mean, this definitely isn’t where I saw this conversation going.”

The older man chuckled. “Thought I was going to just assume the worst and chuck the book at you?”

“Well. Yeah.” Jason shrugged, even though he knew it wouldn’t come across. “Bruce did.”

Nightwing heaved an exasperated breath. “Yeah, that’s kinda the thing about B. Sometimes, he’s great. Other times, he’s an ass. Its kinda an either or thing. He’s never really mastered the art of finding a midpoint between two extremes. Mostly because he’s never seen the point of aiming for middle ground.”

“Well its not like he’s ever really had to,” Jason griped. It just slipped out before he could stop it, leaving him feeling guilty for bad-mouthing B when he wasn’t around to defend himself. Especially since he knew Nightwing wasn’t the guy’s biggest fan these days. But he couldn’t deny it also felt good, in a way.

To his surprise, Nightwing just laughed. And not even in a malicious, spiteful kind of way, but almost relieved.

“God, thank you. You’d think that ‘hey, so my billionaire guardian kinda has entitlement issues’ would be a water is wet kind of revelation, but try saying something like that to pretty much anyone else…”

“And they look at you like you’re an ungrateful asshole?” Jason finished for him. Not that he’d ever actually tried saying that to anyone before, though he’d definitely thought it a time or two. But he could all too easily imagine the reactions he’d get, which was pretty much why he’d never gone so far as to speak the words.

“Yup,” Nightwing drawled, dragging out the p and popping it with emphasis. “And its not about being grateful or not, its just…there are some parts of everyone that just aren’t up for grabs, for other people to weigh in on or take charge of, you know? And a lot of people just don’t get that…because nobody’s ever tried it with them, or had to deal with expectations that…overstep, let’s call it?”

“Is that why you left?”

Jason winced the second it left his mouth. Too far. Definitely way too far, but he’d just gotten unexpectedly comfortable with the back and forth, and now he’d done the overstepping thing himself and was left with just dead air.

But ten seconds of heavy silence stretched into twenty, and went no further, as Nightwing sighed into his side of the phone again.

“The spiteful part of me wants to say it was more of a push than me just up and leaving,” he laughed again, but this time with unmistakable bitterness. “But even while that’s true, its not really the right answer to your question, because no matter how much of a clusterfuck that was at the time, its not…I mean, I knew at the time how to fix it. Where and how I needed to cave in order to make up with him and let things get back not quite to normal, but at least close enough.”

The pause wasn’t as heavy or tense this time, as Jason could almost sense the older man gathering his thoughts, trying to put them into words. He bit his lip rather than risk any more unexpected utterances escaping. This might not have been where he’d thought his phone call would lead, but now that he was here, hearing the answers to questions he’d wanted to ask for over a year and finding them almost comfortably familiar, he wasn’t going to risk distracting Nightwing or shutting him up for well. Anything.

“But it would have meant me caving. Settling in ways that I just…couldn’t. So in a way, yeah, I did leave, it was still my choice. And all of that was definitely a big part of it. I love Bruce, I do. I just couldn’t live with him anymore. Not without feeling like I had to give up my own autonomy and just be what he wanted. Or what he’d expected me to grow up to be, back when he first took me in. And as grateful as I am to him for that, I can’t honestly say I would have stuck around back then if I knew that was the price tag attached. I’m not…I don’t do well with people trying to force me to stick to one place, one thing. I was born on the road, you know? When I was a kid, I expected to spend the rest of my life living like that. Home was people. Not places. And so Gotham…its never fit me quite right, the way it does him, or even Barbara. Its not like I was miserable there, its just.”

“It wouldn’t have been your first choice,” Jason finished again, quietly. There was silence again for awhile.

“No. No, it wouldn’t have been. Not then.”

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