#so it's all amicable in the end but a very entertaining listen
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Pairing: Yandere!Alastor x Fem!Reader
SFW
Word Count: 1'882
Warnings: Yandere, Abuse, Abusive relationship, Choking, Degradation, Manhandling, Threats, Possessiveness, Alastor is a massive asshole and mean as shit. Dead Dove Do Not Eat
Hindsight was always 20/20.
A bit of an understatement, really. Looking back it was hard to believe just how much one decision could impact your entire afterlife, and you wanted to kick yourself.
Desperation was the excuse you gave yourself whenever you thought about why you made a deal with Alastor.
What he proposed wasn’t something you thought too much of at the time. In exchange for your soul, he offered you security - solidarity in a realm where most were keen on focusing on the weakest among them and tearing them to shreds. Not only would you be protected on a daily basis, but you had, essentially, a guarantee that you would survive extermination day whenever it inevitably rolled around.
Seemed almost too good to be true, but knowing the risks involved in refusing, you had accepted.
He never asked much of you in return, much to your surprise. Nothing that ever seemed too unreasonable, at least. If anything, the things he asked of you felt more like exchanges that would occur between friends - taking on small tasks he’d otherwise find too boring to entertain.
Sometimes you’d even go as far as to call them domestic.
Oh, but you knew better than to assume your relationship fell anywhere close to friendship. Amicable was a better word, not good nor bad, but certainly nothing to be overtly confident about - which made what you intended to ask so much worse.
The very thought of it made a shiver go through your body as you walked through the Hotel hallway. A voice in the back of your mind, your conscience perhaps, whispered that it wasn’t too late to turn back. To do a complete 180 and march right back the way you came.
You didn’t listen.
By the time you came to a stop, the hairs on your arms stood completely on end. The door in front of you looked exactly like the others that lined the hallway, deceptive in its mundane simplicity. It only made the feeling of foreboding that much worse as you held your breath and raised your hand to knock, knuckles barely grazing the polished wood at first but connecting more solidly the second time around.
A part of you prayed there wouldn’t be an answer, nails digging further into your palms as the silence extended onwards.
Please don’t answer, please don’t answer-
All hopes were dashed by the dark wood swinging open to reveal a wall of red.
Alastor bent slightly at the waist when greeting you, bringing his eye level slightly down to yours, “My, my, what a pleasant surprise this is!~”
The smile you could muster in response didn’t even come close to matching his own, and your greeting not nearly as jovial.
“Hi.” You said, pausing briefly between words. “I was wondering if you had a few minutes?”
The signature clicking of his vertebrae accompanied the tilt of his head as he stared down at you intrigued. “Whatever for?~”
You began to pick at your nail beds. “Just to talk.”
Alastor hummed, amusement dancing behind his eyes before he opened the door to his suite a little bit wider.
“Oh, I suppose I could spare a moment or two for somebody like you.~”
The way he said it made you unsure whether such a statement was a compliment or an insult, but regardless you followed him inside.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you…” You began to say, looking around the space. No matter how many times you’d been inside, you’d never get used to it.
“Not at all, sweetheart!~” His arm came around your shoulders, leading you further into his suite and towards the table he had set up in the swampland that seamlessly blended in with the decor.
With a flash of green another chair appeared beside his own, and he gestured towards it with the end of his microphone staff.
“Have a seat.~”
You complied, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you did so. Foolishly, you had hoped to stay standing for this conversation in order to keep it as brief as possible. The cool metal of the chair dug into the skin of your thighs despite your clothing and you found yourself staring at the tabletop rather than at Alastor himself.
“Now,” There was some rustling of paper as Alastor picked a newspaper back up off the table, half paying attention to you when he spoke. “What can I do for you, my dear?”
This was it. No going back, no cutting corners, better to rip the bandaid off than to beat around the bush.
You bit your cheek harder and you could already taste the blood on your tongue before you opened your mouth.
“I want out.”
Alastor barely looked in your direction, but the subtle twitch of his ear was hard to miss once you spoke.
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow but never took his eyes off the paper in his lap as he turned the page. “Care to elaborate?”
“Our deal.” The words felt thick when you spoke them. Heavy. “I want my soul back.”
Alastor’s pause made the atmosphere feel nothing short of dreadful as he turned his head to look at you directly. His ever-present smile widened while his eyes narrowed.
“Now what makes you think you deserve that, sweetheart?~”
“It isn’t about deserving anything.” You stated, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. “It’s… renegotiating.”
Alastor snickered, the sound accompanied by a pre-recorded laugh track.
“Well, aren’t you simply adorable?” He placed the newspaper off to the side and rapped his claws against the table. “Unfortunately for you, that’s not how deals work.”
Your hands curled into fists in your lap as he continued speaking.
“While the deal we made was a fairly simple one, the end result is the same.” He crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat. “I own your soul. There aren’t any take-backsies on the matter.”
Nails bit into your palm at the syrupy condescension in his voice. It made anger brim in your chest, but acting on emotion was not a smart move here.
You took a deep breath. “Our deal has run its course, though.” You did your best to ignore how his eyes narrowed further at that. “Now that I’m at the Hotel… it offers what you originally did, so your part of the bargain is no longer necessary.”
His eyes flashed, glowing a brighter red and illuminating the space between the two of you for a moment.
“Ah, I see. You think our deal is now void because I’ve been replaced in a sense.” His smile was anything but reassuring or kind. “And therefore you shouldn’t be expected to uphold your end of the bargain, am I correct?~”
You swallowed thickly. “Yes.”
Alastor tutted. “My dear, who are you to get to decide when our deal is void in any way, shape, or form?”
The question was clearly rhetorical, but you answered anyway.
“Because it’s my soul.” The firmness in your voice did little to cover how weak of an answer that truly was. “I should be able to get a say in when we’ve reached the end of our contract-”
A green flash and the cold snap of metal around your neck cut off any further words you had to say. You barely had any time to register your air getting cut off as you were yanked forward harshly into the dirt - leaving you coughing when the chain slackened enough for you to breathe once more.
“It seems to me that you are forgetting a few things, darling,” Alastor said, pulling sharply on the chain once more to force your face back up to his.
Green stitches lined the seams of his clothes and wove at the edges of his smile - antlers growing with each word he spoke, and it took every bit of courage you had to bite back a whimper.
He was pissed.
“Firstly, the Hotel,” He cooed sweetly,” is the sanctuary you rave it to be because I keep it that way.”
Alastor stood from his chair and stalked towards you, wrapping the end of the chain around his microphone as he went.
“Secondly, might I remind you that it was you who approached me.” He hissed, faux kindness mixing with the barely contained anger you could see in his eyes.
“You,” He nudged your chin with the end of his microphone, “ came to me with the proposal of offering yourself in exchange for my services, not the other way around.” His eyes scanned over your form - lingering on the way your chest moved rapidly to accommodate your breaths before returning to your face.
“I've grown... accustomed to you, my dear, and our deal stands until I say so. Since you are seemingly incapable of understanding the subtleties of that, I’ll put it in simple terms so you can understand.”
The cool metal of your collar was soon replaced with the warm, smooth texture of his glove as he kneeled in the dirt and wrapped his hand around your neck. The gesture made you gasp, reflexively drawing in as much air as possible before he could choke you, but Alastor didn’t squeeze. Instead, he let the weight of his hand do the work.
“I own you. Every breath you take, every little thought in that empty head of yours belongs completely and solely to me.”
The black of his gums peeked out as his smile - which felt more akin to a snarl - widened. “Besides, what would you even do if I gave your soul back?”
Another rhetorical question, but the humiliation and inequity of the situation caused you to answer once more despite everything inside screaming at you not to.
“That’s my business.”
The sheer volume of emotion that passed through Alastor’s eyes told you that was the wrong fucking answer to give.
He snickered and leaned closer to the point you could smell the rot of his breath. “See, you might think that, darling, but since you’re mine, it’s my business too. So here’s how this is going to go.”
The hand around your throat began to squeeze.
“My business is to keep you. You’ll keep doing each and every little thing I ask of you, and you certainly won’t voice complaint when doing so.”
You choked and sputtered again when he hauled you to your feet by your throat and pushed you back into your seat - the armrests catching you directly in the funny bone, causing you to yelp. He placed his hands on either side of you and leered over you. It was the smallest you’d ever felt in your life.
“I’m more than willing to speak to you about anything you wish, darling, I truly am.” He said, inhaling deeply before continuing, and you swore his smile dropped the most you’d ever seen it.
“But if you ever try to speak to me about this again, you’ll learn just how easy you have it with me, is that clear?”
You felt yourself nodding before your mind could even register it. “C-crystal.”
A mixture of relief and dread sunk in your stomach when his smile returned to its normal state and he reached his hand up to pat you twice on the head.
“That’s my girl.~”
© absolute-flaming-trash 2024. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.
#riri writes#Alastor#Hazbin Hotel#Hazbin Alastor#Yandere!Alastor#Alastor x Reader#The Radio Demon#The Radio Demon x Reader#tw yandere#tw abuse#tw abusive relationship#tw choking#tw degradation#tw manhandling#tw threats#dead dove do not eat#tw possessiveness
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India Lima Yankee - Chapter 41
Pairing: Rooster x Female OC
Word Count: 2040
Warnings: Anxiety about death, sheer (entertaining) stupidity
Summary: Juliette Kazansky discovers Maverick is back in town for a special training detachment, but she's more than a little blindsided when Rooster arrives too. Having not spoken to him for almost ten years after their less than amicable break-up, Juliette can only imagine how the next few weeks are going to play out when she remains head over heels in love with him while he wants nothing to do with Juliette other than to forget her.
Or so she thinks.
Notes: The parts in italics are flashbacks.
Chapter Songs: Reckless We Own It Dumb Ways to Die
Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13 Chp 14 Chp 15 Chp 16 Chp 17 Chp 18 Chp 19 Chp 20 Chp 21 Chp 22 Chp 23 Chp 24 Chp 25Chp 26 Chp 27 Chp 28 Chp 29 Chp 30 Chp 31 Chp 32Chp 33 Chp 34 Chp 35 Chp 36 Chp 37 Chp 38 Chp 39 Chp 40 Chp 41
Maverick wanted to kill him.
It was the only explanation for the sheer stupidity and insanity of the plan the captain decided to follow. Of all the possible routes they could've taken...
With blaring sirens and plumes of black smoke rising from the destroyed air base, Rooster turned to Maverick; he prayed to God, Goose, Carole, and Iceman that his dad wasn't thinking what he probably was. Although fearing the response, Rooster said, "You're not serious."
Instead of warranting him with an answer, Mav glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and, without a word, got up and crept closer to the enemy base. Rooster had no choice but to follow, and while he kept silent, the bitching in his head rambled on.
Don't think, they said. Just do, they said. It'll be fine, they said. So I listen to them, and now I'm following Maverick to my potential death while he's practically skipping towards the enemy base like he's Dorothy on the fucking yellow brick road! This cannot be the first time he's done something like this. How is this man still alive? Does he have a death wish? Or is he merely immune to death and forgets that others aren't? God, we should've just waited for the helicopter...
Rooster lay behind a snow-covered rock next to Maverick. The two of them peered over it at the chaos before them, and Mav pulled out his monocular to scan the situation. What was he hoping to find? A spare plane that no one happened to be using or guarding? Even if there was, how could they take off in it when the runways were knocked out of commission by the Tomahawks earlier?
Maverick nodded at a hangar at the very end on the right, handing his monocular to Rooster. Putting the device up to his eye, he followed Mav's line of sight. It took a moment for him to get the lens focused, but once he did, Rooster couldn't help but blurt out, "You've gotta be shitting me."
He turned to Maverick, adding in disbelief, "An F-14?"
Mav kept his eyes on the base, watching all the proceedings. "I shot down three MiGs in one of those."
Rooster returned his attention to the hangar, doubt coursing through his veins. God only knows how long that plane had been sitting there, what kind of maintenance it had, if any. When was the last time someone actually flew it? He pointed this out. "We don't even know if that bag of ass can fly."
"Let's find out!"
"Mav!" Rooster hissed as his dad bolted away. When he didn't listen, he muttered to himself, "Okay."
Without another option, unless he wanted to wait in the snow in enemy territory for a rescue, Rooster chased after Maverick, running through a hole in the damaged fence to catch up. He slipped when he slowed down next to the captain, narrowly managing to avoid crashing into him. Rooster tried to walk casually across the field and runways like Maverick, but all he could see through the haze was potential death surrounding him. Tanks and soldiers moved all over the base, and to make sure he wasn't the only one seeing this, he said quietly, "There's guys up there, Mav."
"Yep," Maverick acknowledged, still walking purposefully towards the F-14. Did nothing rattle this man?
"There's more over there," Rooster added, noticing a tank driving dangerously close by.
"Okay-" Mav slipped into a jog- "let's start running."
"Yeah, run. Run!" Rooster encouraged, finally feeling like Maverick was reacting like any normal person would. Miraculously, or by sheer dumb luck, the two men made it to the hangar without being caught or shot. Rooster glanced at the F-14, trying to gauge its airworthiness. It appeared to be in decent shape. It certainly looked flyable on the outside, but what about the inside?
Maverick hitting his arm garnered Rooster's attention. Hurriedly, although still trying to catch his breath, Mav explained, "Once-once I give you the signal for air, you're gonna flip this switch until the needle gets to one-twenty. When the engine starts, you got to pull out the pins and disconnect everything. You understand?"
"Yeah," Bradley replied confidently. Maverick flipped a switch, and the machine they stood in front of powered on. Letting out an excited "yes," Maverick slapped Rooster happily on the arm before scampering up over to the F-14. On his way, he turned around and said, "Once I'm up, stow the ladder."
For the next few moments, everything was a blur. Rooster barely remembered stowing the ladder, pulling out the pins, climbing onto the wing of the jet, and hopping into the backseat. Noticing the ancient controls and radar, his eyes widened in wariness. He had no control over his mouth when the words slipped out, "Oh my God. This thing is so old."
Maverick ignored the comment, pulling the F-14 out of the hangar and asking, "Canopy?!"
"Clear!" Rooster replied, strapping himself in. He watched as Maverick pulled onto the taxiway and came to a dead stop. They both surveyed the scene. Enemies still ran like crazy around them, seemingly unaware the two crazy American pilots were commandeering one of the jets, and plumes of black smoke continued to rise where the Tomahawks struck earlier. Rooster grimaced, wondering how the hell they were going to take off. He pointed out, "Both runways are cratered. How we gonna get this museum piece up in the air?"
Maverick didn't respond for a few seconds, but his head nodded ever so slightly as if he'd been talking silently to himself and agreed with whatever he decided. He flipped a switch, and suddenly, the wings of the plane started sweeping out. Bewildered and fascinated, Rooster bonked his head against the canopy to watch. "Why are the wings coming out, Mav?"
For a second time, Maverick didn't respond.
He's not thinking what I think he is... Rooster thought grimly. However, when Maverick remained parked in place but hit the thrusters, the young aviator realized he was thinking what he thought he was. "Mav, this is a taxiway. Not a runway. This is a very short taxiway, Mav!"
"You just hang on," the captain responded, completely ignoring his backseater's protests.
The plane shot forward, forcing Rooster against his seat. He couldn't help himself, which seemed to be the norm for the past couple of hours, when he exclaimed, "Holy shit!"
This man is either insane or a genius. If we make it out of this alive, I'm never doubting Maverick again.
Gathering the strength to peer up front, Rooster had hoped to see a relatively clear path. What he had not wanted to see was two oil tanks towering in front of them and blocking their path. There was no way they could get enough air in time. The men were going to die after coming this far. Maybe Mav still had time to stop. Would he listen if Rooster protested?
Probably not.
"Mav," Rooster said hesitantly, watching the oil tanks become closer and closer, too close for comfort. "Mav!"
"Here we go!" Maverick warned, lifting the plane into the air.
"Holy shit." Rooster closed his eyes, not wanting to witness his death because of his dad's maniacal escape plan. Of all the dumb ways to die, hijacking an enemy plane and taking off on a taxiway was not the one Rooster thought would get him.
I'm sorry, Juliette. I tried to make it back to you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sor-
A snap broke Rooster out of his thoughts, but rather than discovering the plane had crashed, he found himself shooting up into the air. Considering everything visible to him appeared intact, it had to have been the landing gear snapping off.
Well, that problem could be dealt with later.
In the meantime, since neither of them was dead, Rooster took the opportunity to turn on his ESAT. Maybe they were still in close enough range to appear on the boat's radar, if not reach them entirely. Maybe if Juliette was in the command room, and if she saw them on radar, she would realize both he and Maverick were okay, that she hadn't lost two more people she loved. Rooster could only imagine what his fiancée was thinking, how she was feeling.
I'm coming for you, Jules! He promised, despite the fact she couldn't hear his thoughts. I promise I'm coming home to you.
As the F-14 flew over the mountains, Maverick instructed, "Okay, Rooster, get us in touch with the boat."
"I'm working on it," Bradley replied, looking at the switches, buttons, and electronics surrounding him. "Radio's out. No radar. Everything's dead back here. What do I do? Talk me through it."
"Okay, first the radio. Throw the, uh-" Maverick paused, racking his brain for the correct answer- "the UFH-2 circuit breaker. Try that."
Rooster glanced at all the switches on his right, then to his left. "There's 300 breakers back here. Anything more specific?"
"I don't know. That was your dad's department," Maverick confessed.
If my dad could do it, so can I. "I'll figure it out."
Twisting back to his right, Rooster tried to scan all the switches as quickly as he could, but a glare from something below the jet caught his attention. Shifting his gaze, Rooster's blood ran cold. "Mav, tally two! Five o'clock low. What do we do?"
Two Su-57s. The only other fifth-generation fighter in existence next to the F-22 and F-35. No one had been this up close and personal yet.
"Okay, listen-" Maverick started confidently, leading Rooster to believe his dad had a foolproof plan to get them out of this- "just be cool. If they knew who we were, we'd be dead already."
The response, like most of Maverick's today, had been the last thing Rooster expected. Still, the captain had gotten them this far with his batshit-crazy ideas, so who was Rooster to question this one too? "Well, here they come. What's your plan?"
"Just put your mask on. Remember, we're on the same team. Just wave and smile. Just wave and smile."
Maybe it was the stress finally winning out, or maybe Rooster's brain simply needed something funny to happen today, but Maverick's words caused the penguins from Madagascar to briefly flash in Bradley's mind, the leader going, "Smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave."
Yeah... he definitely needed sleep after this mission if they returned home safely. That, and a stiff, stiff drink.
One enemy plane pulled up alongside them; its partner stayed behind it. Rooster, taking Maverick's advice seriously, gave a small wave to the pilot, who, in return, made some hand gestures. They were obviously instructions for something, but exactly what, Rooster had no idea. Without taking his attention off the SU-57s, he inquired, "What's that signal? What's he saying?"
"No idea," Maverick admitted. "I have no idea what he's saying."
The enemy pilot made a different gesture with three fingers. Like last time, Rooster had no clue what it meant. Maybe Mav did. "What about that one? Any idea?"
"No, never seen that one either." In the blink of an eye, the enemy distanced their plane from the F-14 while its partner moved behind it. Maverick swore. "Oh, shit. His wingman is moving into weapon's envelope. All right, listen up. When I tell you, you grab those rings above your head. That's the ejection handle."
Rooster glanced up at the rings, but something was eating at him. This couldn't be the only way to escape. "Mav, can we outrun these guys?"
"Not their missiles and guns."
Rooster recognized what he was about to say next could very well be a mistake, but only if it was anyone else flying the F-14. This was Maverick. If anyone could do it, he could. "Then it's a dogfight."
Maverick sounded dubious when he replied, "An F-14 against fifth-gen fighters?"
"It's not the plane. It's the pilot," Rooster reminded him, remembering all the stories of the impossible feats Maverick pulled off in his career. If he could do those, he could do this, but Rooster knew why his captain was hesitating. "You'd go after them if I wasn't here."
"But you are here," Maverick replied softly.
"Come on, Mav," Rooster encouraged, sensing the pilot needed one more push to do what needed to be done. "Don't think. Just do."
***
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Here is an ask well half an ask from the lovely @meddowscrl please don’t hate me 🥺 I just can’t do happy endings. I tried, I just couldn’t. I can only do angst. I like to suffer ~nervous laughter intensified~ Also, please excuse the writing, I have a respiratory infection and am heavily medicated.
You were happy, weren’t you?
“I want a divorce.”
You stare at him, you had only asked if he wanted to change the drapes. And the answer, turned your world upside down. He had been your boyfriend since 1968, your husband since 1972 and yet with one sentence he was now nothing.
“The drapes, I just wanted to change the drapes.” You mutter out like a hapless child.
“We haven’t been good for months.” He looks at you, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.
“We haven’t?” Since when haven’t you two been good? Since when haven’t you two shared one brain cell? That was news to you.
Roger stands firms, flicking his long hair back. “No, Y/N.” He sighs, “We haven’t been us for months.”
“Is there someone else?” You look at him, searching for something. “You promised me. You promised me.” The words come out like a chant or mantra, what you held onto when he was on the road. A promise from another lifetime ago.
He sighs, as if he wants to tell you the truth. But he looks at you, and he sees the brokenness he caused. And he can’t bare to make it worse. So, he lies.
“No.”
You walk past him, and he grabs your hand and you think for a moment he will tell you he change his mind. But he hasn’t, and you tear yourself away from him trudging up the staircase.
“Y/N, this has been a long time coming. I’m not happy…. I’m not happy with you anymore.”
“A long time coming for who?” You can’t even look at him while you are packing your things. Most of which, he bought you. So, you only bring what you can into this relationship with yourself. “For you? Because I was happy.” There are tears streaming down your face, like a waterfall, “And I thought we were happy, it’s news to me that we aren’t. And that’s we haven’t been for sometime. Or maybe that you haven’t been.”
You sit across from him in a London high-rise, a wood table between you two and armed with a divorce lawyer. It happened fast, or maybe you were out of it the last few months.
You looked over at Roger, his hair was shorter the last time you saw him.
He stopped by your new apartment to drop off things you left, you could remember his shocked face when you open the door. You heard rustling outside and curiously you opened the door to see Roger crouched down, putting a box by your door. Blue eyes meet yours, and it was like time hadn’t passed. And maybe that’s why you treated it that way, maybe that’s why you went with the old routine. And you wonder if it was the gleam in his eyes, that let you believe that there was something to hold onto; that hope remained.
“Just some bits and bobs of yours.” Roger said, fumbling his keys in his hand.
“Thanks, Rog.” You can’t move from the door frame, the gaze y’all shared unbroken. Years of memories dancing between tha gaze. The squeal of the kettle you put on earlier makes the both of you jump.
“Cuppa? I still have your favorite biscuits.” You couldn’t stop yourself from buying them. It was just normal. And sometimes normal in this new word you didn’t know, was what you needed to sleep at night.
“Really?!” His blue eyes light up, and you motion for him to come in. Staying for tea was a dangerous thing, an old and easy routine. It was weird being so comfortable with someone, who was leaving you behind. Funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same.
Maybe it was because of the easiness of it all, that you left yourself fall back into the comfort of it all. As of you two were old friends, not two lovers frayed at the seams. Because of that easiness, you let yourself entertain a thought that maybe you could save your marriage. Put back the broken pieces into something recognizable, but it wasn’t enough. The yearning, the reminiscing of old times through the stuff he brought to you somehow turned into fumbled kisses and clothes thrown around haphazardly. It was something you thought would change the course of where your life was going. Instead of reconciling, it turned into Roger sneaking out when he thought you were asleep. It turned into your lawyer, letting you know Roger wanted you to have more than you asked for. It turned into more resentment and hurt from you, how he could use you and then leave you. How could he so easily but all those years together aside? It turned into something that shouldn’t have happened. And it turned into something that would stay with you forever. A funny word forever, because forever never is forever.
“Sign this, and your divorced will be finalized. All assets obtained during the marriage have been split, due to Mr. Taylor’s wishes.” Your lawyer says looking at you, sliding the papers across, while Roger’s lawyer speaks, “You will be comfortable, and well off Y/N. My client has been more than generous. In fact, I’ve never seen a settlement this amicable from the side of the main breadwinner .”
You sign the papers without any words, you don’t even look at Roger. You realize as you sign on the dotted line, this will be the last time you will use the surname you used for years. Funny how something you thought would never change, would be stagnant in your life just fades away. You then pass the papers across the table back to Roger’s lawyer, you watch as the lawyer slides the papers over to Roger for his signature.
And when Roger takes the paper, you stop breathing you wonder if his mind will change at the eleventh hour. But, he signs it without any hesitation. It’s a fluent and flawless movement, very unlike Roger- really. Part of you breaks at that, it was like he didn’t care he was closing the door on years of his life. Closing the door on you.
You stand up, smoothing out your wide legged pant suit. After the divorce, you had dipped your toes back into the world of working for a living. Putting that masters degree in business to use, and now it was time to separate yourself from the last of the rock n roll lifestyle you loved. And you turn to walk away, high heels on the marble floor when someone grabs your wrist turning you around.
“Take care of yourself, Y/N.” Roger looks at you with concern in his blue eyes. And you wonder if it’s for the friend he was losing, and not the marriage he let go of so easily.
You look at him, “I will. Don’t forget to wear your glasses, we both know you are blind. Don’t forget to call your mum once in while, she misses you. And try not to get so angry at the boys, they mean well.”
“Even after everything I’ve done, you don’t hate me.” You spot something in his eyes, you can’t put a name too. An emotion that seems out of place, it was almost looked like guilt and forlorn.
“I told you a long time ago, I could never hate you. No matter how much, I may want too. I just can’t.”
“You are too good, Y/N. I’ve forgot to remind myself of that. Maybe that’s why…” he drifts off, “Even those daft band mates of mine agreed. Never let me forget it. But, Im sure they are out to drive me mad!” He says with a small smirk.
“With the drum sets you destroy, I doubt the plan to make you mad.” You make a small sound, something between a strangled “hmph” and snort in retort.
“Same old, Y/N.”
“By the way, I have something to-”
“Roggiee!” A voice like a bell cuts through the hushed words you tell him.
You both turn to see a girl, or really a woman bounding toward y’all. And you look toward Roger, and you see the look in his eyes. A look that used to be reserved for you. And it clicked, the guilty look etched in his eyes, not even moments ago. The guilty look he wore that night. The whole reason your world was being upended and ruined. It was for her.
The bitterness filled you up, the way he could so easily toss you aside. The look you threw at Roger was one of pure resentment and unbridled rage.
“You lied.” Your hushed words, that come out through clinched teeth drip with a malice.
He looks at you with wide eyes, as if he was trying to shelter you from the truth. And you see that damned look again. “Y/N, please. I just couldn’t tell you.”
But before you can answer, she comes up with a smile on her pink lips and a twinkle in her dark brown eyes. “You must be, Roggie’s lawyer! I’m Gwen.” She smiles at you. And her smile is sickly sweet, and almost innocent.
It makes you want to scream, to throw something, to do something other than what you are doing.
“I’m Y/N, actually.” You extend your hand to her. Her eyes go wide, and she looks at Roger, who goes to her side immediately.
“Y/N, please listen.” He hold onto her side, and the whiteness of his knuckles against the material of her dark dress don’t go unnoticed by you. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with her.”
Gwen chimes in, “We honestly tried to stay away from each other, we just couldn’t. We were drawn to each other.”
If you weren’t so bitter, hurt, and angry perhaps the romantic side of you would find that notion tragic. You had read about it in books, and always rooted for the star-crossed lovers. But, now you were the collateral damage, you were the woman scorned.
“When we decided that what we had was something, I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell you that I was in love with someone else, when you were there from the start. I just didn’t want you to find out after I got back from tour-”
“He couldn’t see you broken like that.” Gwen finishes for him.
You can’t even begin to comprehend the information given, you were gobsmacked. You were completely barred raw, for everyone is this godforsaken lobby to see. And because of that, you selfishly did not want to see how genuinely happy he looked with someone else. Someone who wasn’t you. So, you used the words you knew would cut him to the bone. “So, you thought it was better to make me believe it was my fault you weren’t happy. That I was ignorantly living in one sided marital bliss, while you were falling in love with someone else? While you were planning to leave, I was planning for a life with you?” Your eyes are blazing, your face hot with rage, “You thought it was better to make me believe I was the problem? I can’t believe you! After everything I did for you? After putting my life on hold for you?! This is how you repay me? I deserved the truth, but you, the both of you took that from me.”
“I just-” He sighs, “I just wanted to be happy again, and when I’m with Gwen I’m happy. And I was going to tell you, I was going to tell you that day with the drapes. But, you then you uttered that damn promise. And what was I supposed to do? How could I break my best friend? I’ve always been the asshole to everyone, but you.”
“I love you.”
You look at Roger, his long blonde hair disheveled with bright blue eyes. “I love you too, you are my friend. My very best friend.” You bump your shoulder against his, and let out a giggle.
“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”
You stare at him wide eyed, “Oh.”
“I have been for sometime.”
“Rog, I love you too. But, that doesn’t mean I want to date you. I know how you are, you will grow bored of me and find someone else. And love is sweet, but it’s not your nature. I don’t think I have it in me to me hate you, or to lose you. Please don’t make me lose my best friend.”
“You don’t get it, Y/N.” He looks at you like you hung the moon, and you like it. You crave that look. “I don’t want anyone else, it’s you. And I think it’s always been, and always will be you.”
“You promise? You promise it’s only me forever?” You bite your lip and stick out your pinky finger, like you had done so many times growing up.
“I cross my heart and hope to die.” He says as he raises your intertwined pinkies up to kiss it.
“And in that moment, I was back in Truro laughing with a curly haired little girl, and then I was in uni with that same girl, who was my best friend, I saw that girl. And, I couldn’t do that to her.”
You look at him, your face cold as stone. “I’m still that girl, I haven’t changed. You have. And that’s okay, it’s okay the change that’s life.”
That is how it ends, with a look of heartbreak on your face as the elevator doors close on the sight before you. And when the doors open, and you are greeted by the sight of the lobby. You realize, you didn’t even tell him what you wanted too.
Would it change anything?
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Reading Between The Lines
A/N: I feel bad whenever I say 'hey here is what I am working on' and then my muses tell me 'no...this is what you are working on'. It's like my brain can't concentrate on one thing entirely q wq. In my defense though, I'm exploring my twst faves...and Cater may be a runner up to Vil...
Warnings: Dry humping, dirty talking and a quick handjob just as unsatisfying and ungratifying as Cater feeling like maybe he shouldn't have let you go just yet.
“Whoops.”
Cater’s phone case cracked as it hit the floor, eyes locking with yours as you pull away from the Heartslabyul second year. Why had he even dropped his phone in the first place? The case had cost a lot and he had queued up for hours to get it, there should have been no reason for him to drop it.
Maybe the shock from seeing you in Heartslabyul?
No, that was normal. You were friends with Ace and Deuce after all so your presence in Heartslabyul was normal.
Maybe from seeing you in a bedroom that wasn’t a first year room?
He was coming to check up on a second year who had mentioned something about needing help in Astrology so Riddle had instructed Cater to help the guy out. The ‘strict Queen’ was aiming for the highest grade among the dorms, after all. So he was just carrying out his duty as an upperclassman!
So seeing you here, in this second year’s room, shirt around your elbows as a pair of hands--
that weren’t his--gently wrapped themselves around your waist was probably what made him drop his case.
Good to know, if he had come to that conclusion at any other time that you weren’t here, he might have said something mean to his lower-class men.
You move to fix your shirt as the second year rushes to apologize, walking up to him and spouting words Cater wouldn’t bother to hear. His eyes kept staring as you fixed yourself up to look a tad more proper than how he had found you.
It wasn’t like the sight of you in that state was unfamiliar to him, he just hadn’t seen it in a long time.
“Please just keep it between us, Cater-san! I don’t know what I’d do if the dorm head found out about this.”
He snaps out of his trance, looking down at the second year before grinning as he let out a slow hum, pretending to mull the request over in his head.
“Should I? If I remember correctly...Rule 345--Only when the sky turns red as it is dawning can a romantic partner be brought--”
“I--I’ll tell the dorm leader that you helped me with class!”
Cater grins, “That’s one way to make it up to me~ I guess for now I should leave you with a warning, right?” he tilts his head to call out to you, “The same goes for you [Y/N]-san! I can’t have you getting someone other than Ace and Deuce in trouble!”
He can't help but feel a sense of pride when you chuckle at what he had said, turning around to give him a peace sign as you walk by the second year.
“I’ll try to do an effort to hide in the closet next time.”
The second year takes your hand and kisses it, apologizing for the trouble and closing his eyes when your hands cup his cheek and pull him in for a kiss, the action making Cater look down at his phone and open whatever app he saw first.
You wave goodbye as Cater closes the door quickly, not giving you a chance to look at your second year lover fully as the both of you walk down the corridors of Heartslabyul in silence.
“So.”
“Hm?”
Green eyes keep looking at his phone, scrolling through Magicam absentmindedly but sparring you one look as he sees you scratching at a hickey--he would have left a bigger one-- the second year had left behind.
“Was he any good?”
In his defense, what had started between you two was clearly labeled as a ‘no feelings allowed, we are just here to have fun’ relationship. You seemed to understand his nature better than most and were down for something that wasn’t super serious and borderline erotic in a sense.
Cater was sure that you two had done it in at least one surface in every common room in Heartslabyul. The thought kept him awake at night, actually.
“Was he any good…” you repeat the question, “As good as I’m going to get from a second year.”
“Oh the poor guy.” Cater can’t help the snort that escapes him as you two walk down a set of stairs leading to the dorm’s entrance, “It is surprising you went for him, didn’t you mention that you liked the older type?”
“Well after a certain ‘older type’ decided to end things, I thought I should try my hand at something different. Change my ways, you know?”
He didn’t know. Cater had no idea what you were talking about, in fact. Why would you have to change your ways for anyone? You were amazing, interesting, entertaining and attention-grabbing all wrapped up in an older sibling type package that he had admitted to being attracted to when he had brought up the ‘friends with benefits’ proposition. If you changed in anyway he would be disappointed--
Dammit he was doing it again.
“If you want to start a relationship with someone in Heartslabyul, I would recommend Trey. He’s handsome, hardworking and you wouldn’t go hungry. Perfect man material right there.”
Cater knew that the small jab was directed at him so he decided to switch subjects, preferring not to linger in the awkward feeling that came with the consequences of his actions.
He ended things because he had broken the rules you both had set in place. Feelings weren't allowed and yet he had let them burrow deep inside his heart and fester like some sort of unknown virus. Cater didn't care for them so he nipped the problem in the bud, broke things off in an amicable manner and moved on.
But, like with everything in his life, it had all been an act.
If it had been just the sex keeping him awake, he would have understood. He's a healthy young man and some of the activities you two engaged in would make any first year jealous. And for a while the memories of you warming his bed generally did start to make him yearn for your warmth.
It was the possibilities of what you could have had that were driving him insane.
Would you have said no to a date? The only thing you two did when you were alone were have sex, make fun of Magicam models, sleep and then have sex some more so surely you would have liked a change of scenery as well.
But he didn't know you as much as he wished he did. Nights in his bed had been spent tossing and turning as to what your answer would have been. Why did he even care? You both still hung out, you still had his number, it wasn't like either of you were dead to each other!
Cater just didn't know how to react to you seeing someone else, if that is what you were even doing in the first place.
"Trey-senpai? I guess...he is rather sweet, isn't he?"
"In more ways than one."
"...but I will have to pass." you rub the back of your neck, "You know I don't like sweets."
The clock strikes ten as Cater's eyes take all of you in, his mind blanking out for a response before he clicks his tongue and points behind him.
"Say, Prefect, I think you may have left something in my room. Mind if I give it to you now?"
-----
"Oh. Your case cracked."
"Yeah. Dropped my phone. Bummer, huh?"
"Here I thought you held onto that thing for dear life, can I see it?"
Cater laughs as he takes his phone out of his back pocket and hands it to you, turning back to dig in his drawer for the sole sock that you had left about a month ago.
Who was he bullshitting? He was panicking, plain and simple. Here he was, rummaging through his drawer like an idiot as he pretended to have a sock that he knew he didn't have all to keep you with him for a couple more minutes.
Stars, who was he? He didn't know himself anymore.
“And...dammit.” he laughs as he closes the bottom drawer of his heart closet, “Couldn’t find it. I’m sorry [Y/N]-chan, I shouldn’t have taken your time like that. Do you want me to walk you back to the dorm...or maybe you wanna talk on the phone while you walk there?”
He goes to grab his phone but stops as he turns to look at you, your fingers tracing the giant crack on the case before tapping it twice in quick succession.
“[Y/N]--”
“We both really messed up, huh?”
Cater blinks as your eyes stare at him as if, for a brief moment, you could look through him. Through the act, the apathy, the very thing that was keeping him at the seams but also making him feel like he would burst from the inside out.
“...what do you mean?”
You keep gazing at him for a couple of seconds before smiling as you hold up the phone.
“I shouldn’t have snuck into Heartslabyul to just get a need met...and you shouldn’t have walked into that poor student’s room without knocking.” you wave the phone around, “Now your precious item is broken.”
The conversation didn’t feel right. It felt as if you were saying something else and all Cater needed to do was read in between the lines.
But he refused to, he didn’t want to go below surface level. Everything would get so much more complicated if you both took that plunge.
Yet he was feeling daring, the smile on your face a clear challenge as he walked over to you and grabbed the edge of his phone.
“Maybe I wanted to break it.”
Silence reigns in the room as you two stare at each other, both of your hands holding onto the edge of his phone and daring the other to let go. He smiles and tugs on his edge, the movement effortlessly pulling you towards him as you snicker when the edge of your foot touches his.
“Cater.” you whisper as your hands slowly let go of the phone.
“Yes?” he whispers back, purposefully leaning over you as he places the phone on his desk.
“Nothing. I just like saying your name.”
Whether he started it or you started it honestly didn’t matter to him, the only thing Cater cared about was pulling you close and pressing his lips against yours so he could stop listening to all of your complicated sentences.
He didn’t understand them, he didn’t understand you.
And yet you seemed to understand him probably better than he understood himself.
Arms are around his neck as you pull him close, Cater slowly walking you back to his bed as the back of your knees hit the comforter which causes both of you to fall down. You pull away to snicker at the action but are brought right back into the kiss by needy lips, Cater whispering your name as he pushed you upwards so that you would be pressed right against the wall--
He groans when you pull away and is surprised to be kissing a pair of fingers instead of your lips, your smile still as elusive as ever as you slowly push his face away.
“I have a lover, senpai.”
Cater rolls his eyes, “I don’t like those kinds of jokes.”
“I’m not joking. It’s late so I’m just going to go over to his room and tell him that you’ll cover for us, okay? Okay. ”
You pinch his nose as you try to push him away but find your wrists grabbed and locked in place, Cater giving you a hard glare as he presses his forehead against yours.
“I said I don’t like those kinds of jokes.” he leans in and gives you another kiss, “You’re not his lover.”
“Who says that?”
“[Y/N]-chan did.” Cater’s lips press against yours again as he makes his way down to the offending hickey the second year had left on you, “The way you talk about him, the way you weren’t even embarrassed at getting caught. You are toying with the heart of one of my second years and I don’t think I can forgive you for that.”
He nips at the bruise before placing his lips on it, teeth gently opening up more blood vessels to form a much darker shade on your skin than what was left there before.
“Is that all you can’t forgive me for?”
Cater smiles against your skin as he takes your wrists and leads your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling you into his lap as he answers your question with a kiss.
His tongue meets yours this time around, both of you giggling at the familiar taste. When was the last time you two had kissed like this? Nevermind that, the question was already too annoying to think about. Instead, Cater moves his hips upwards as he groans into your lips at the wanted friction.
He takes a hold of your hips as he pushes you down to meet him mid-movement, his hips rolling up as yours are pushed down. The movement is sloppy and the action itself feels so unsatisfying but Cater almost feels as if this is the only thing he deserves from you. If either of you enjoyed this it would mean you two went too far--
“Haha...look at your face.”
Green eyes look at you as you cup the man’s face, pressing a gentle kiss on his nose as you start to roll your hips on his, meeting him halfway.
“You probably want to cum inside, right Cater-senpai?”
His hips jump at the mere thought, the idea of you laying on your side as his cum drips down from your sex all the way down your thighs.
“We did it with protection a lot ~We always followed the rules of our agreement…”
Hands dive between you two, Cater’s eyes never leaving yours as he works to get his pants off while his hands try to unbutton yours as well. You smile and meet him halfway again, taking your own bottoms off and tossing them carelessly to the side as you both are left in nothing but your underwear.
“Every time we did it--you always looked like you wanted to do something else--”
Cater takes the chance of you biting your lower lip to go a bit faster, the tip of his cock rubbing against you at a faster speed as he changed position quickly and hooked your knees over his elbows.
“And at first---at first I thought it was just you getting bored…”
He gasps when two of your fingers press right at the tip of his cock, the way he was moving his hips allowing it to rub comfortably against the padding of your fingers as you gently cooed at the precum gathering there.
“But one time I was able to see it. See what you really wanted--!”
His own hand makes his way in between the mess of hips and stuttered movements, his fingers tracing a familiar pattern up and down your sex as he feels you pull him out of his boxers and start to pump in rhythm.
“If...If you cum after me...I’ll let you cum inside...”
It’s starting to get hotter, Cater feels like he can see his own breath fogging up his vision.
“Count it as reward…”
The coil in his stomach is tightening, your hands moving faster as his stutters with the rhythm you were setting.
“For being honest with me at least one time.”
It’s a sticky mess, the white stuff sticking to your belly and his as he rides out his orgasm against your hand and stopping altogether when the feeling gets too much. His fingers work overtime before your back arches and you give into yours as well, your toes curling for a moment before your feet hit the mattress unceremoniously.
He didn’t know where in the world that had come from or what possessed you to talk like that...but that was probably the hardest he had released in the month you two stopped interacting with one another.
Cater looks at the mess once again before moving to clean it up, stopping only when he feels a hand tug at the front of his shirt and a pair of lips meeting his all over again.
“Offer is still on the table, senpai.”
You unbutton the first few buttons of your shirt, smiling as larger hands batted yours away to continue the job.
“Please do your best to hold out longer.”
#twisted wonderland#twst#twst imagines#twst smut#cater diamond#cater x reader#twst mc#adult section#//rushed and messy...but I bet that is what making out with Cater is like
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Kevin Day x the Gangsey
self indulgent post in honor of being sucked into the aftg fandom... can we talk about how trc and aftg could totally be happening in the same world, early 2000s and all
Gansey
Gansey, standing in line in the cafeteria: hey, Kevin right? I really enjoyed your presentation in World Hist, would you happen to know anything about Welsh kings?
Kevin: you mean like, Owain Glyndŵr?
Gansey: *starry eyes*
They proceed to sit together and exchange history book recs
Kevin has never had anyone attentively listen to him talk about history before and actually care about what he’s saying, so he’s like *what is this feeling???* (the feeling was friendship, but neither of them had ever experienced anyth-)
Kevin helping Gansey in French
KEVIN AND GANSEY LATE NIGHT COMPANIONSHIP
They both can't sleep so Gansey does his ley line research while Kevin does his exy diagramming shit and all you can hear is amicable silence and the scratching of pencils and Gansey occasionally asking Kevin what he thinks about this or that theory
One night Gansey is in an anxious mood and Kevin's like *you know what helps me when I'm anxious? Exy.* so he takes Gansey to the court and teaches him some of the basics
Gansey has upper body strength from rowing but his balance and coordination are shit
So he kind of fails spectacularly but he's smiling by the end of it so Kevin's satisfied (although sorely disappointed in Gansey's lack of Exy potential and trying not to show it-- *one man can't have everything*)
KEVIN'S ONE FLAW, IN GANSEY'S EYES, IS HIS AVERSION TO THE CAMARO
Kevin: I am not looking at anything bright orange ever again.
Gansey: ☹️
Adam
ACADEMIC RIVALS TO FRIENDS. YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE. THESE TWO PERFECTIONIST WORKAHOLIC CAPRICORN RISING BITCHES-
It all started when Kevin took Adam’s long held seat as top of the class in biology
Adam is like *who is this new kid* and also *why are he and Gansey thick as thieves*
Of course Gansey introduces them, and at first Adam doesn’t really think much of Kevin given his background and attitude
But slowly they earn each other’s grudging respect
Much like Adam and Declan, Adam and Kevin see right through each other's guises
Also thinking of when Adam recognized the fear in Opal and gave her his watch to comfort her. I think he would recognize the fear in Kevin and post-TRK Adam would try to help (except it's not a Crying Club situation, it would be a much more equal friendship)
Ronan
Kevin: this kid could outlast Andrew in a staring competition
*why does he always carry around a RAVEN, of all animals*
Chainsaw, being a very smart bird, notices Kevin’s discomfort and tries to be extra entertaining (of course, her version of entertaining is singing the murder squash song in her eerily human voice. it does not help.)
Kayleigh Day was Irish right? Imagine them at the Barns, Ronan leading them through the house and Kevin sees a dusty instrument in the corner
Kevin, turning to Gansey: I used to play that
Adam, deadpan: you and Ronan should start a band: "The Bald Bagpipers".
Ronan: *death glare*
Henry
They would be besties. I can feel it in my BONES
Them at Exites geeking out and debating the merits and shortcomings of various Exy racquets
Henry would pretend to know more about Exy than he does but somehow get away with it because he's Henry and his enthusiasm wins Kevin over
As a product of hanging out with Kevin, Henry is now a massive USC stan by proxy and they stream matches on the Litchfield house movie projector (if I had a nickel for every time I talk about the Litchfield house movie projector I'd have two nickels)
Eventually they would rope Gansey in too and they become the unofficial Jeremy Knox fanclub
Blue
Blue meeting Kevin would be Blue meeting Gansey at Nino's INTENSIFIED
Somehow I feel like she would judge him less because he doesn't try to hide the fact that he's rich? (don't forget about the time Kevin was canonically like "yeah i'm expensive, coach should've known when he signed me")
However the mutual wariness would go on for a long time before they warm up to each other
I don't really see them becoming super close but eventually they start judging people together and boy would you get !!!roasted!!! by Sargent/Day
Kevin never lets on that he actually thinks Blue is hella cool but she knows
She knits him some fingerless gloves in the Foxes colors and he wears them occasionally. one day the TV is on in the background while the Gangsey's chilling at Monmouth and they see Kevin talking to a reporter and he's wearing the gloves
No one says anything about it but they're like *ah. blue likes you, therefore you are one of us now*
Noah
Can relate to each other because they are #deadinside and got their bones smashed to bits with long rectangle-esque objects by people who were supposed to be their friends
Ouch
Kevin can't get over Noah being a ghost and how everyone treats it like a totally normal thing
"So he just? Exists? And can? Appear out of thin- Ok. okAY."
Noah pulls his trick of seeing people's thoughts and he's like holy moly there is more to this man than he lets on
Scares Kevin half to death by materializing in the stands during his midnight Exy practices
Bonus: Noah and Andrew LMAO I can imagine Noah messing with him
Andrew: *throws knife*
*knife goes right through Noah and hits the ground*
Andrew: *squints ever so slightly*
#kevin day deserved better!!!#give him ALL the found family#kevin day#trc x aftg#all for the game#aftg#the foxhole court#the raven cycle#trc#gansey#ronanlynch#adamparrish#blue sargent#noah czerny#mine
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BUTT-DIAL? NO, BOOTY CALL | tony stark
explicit, 5,4k words. wrong number text, family shame & wedding drama that isn't even his and a ruined first date. despite the implications of the situation, both reader and tony are very entertained. meet-ugly series, part three.
[no y/n, no "you", no name, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns]
💚 masterlist ☀️ taglist & faq 💚
Another sunny day spent wasted in a conference room full of boring, old, conceited chairmen. Tony Stark vehemently refused to commiserate with them, their boring speeches and blunt, straightforward thinking. Sitting through a meeting was like walking on nails barefoot: painful, pointless. Mind-numbing.
His phone beeped loudly and he reached into his pocket, pretending to not see Pepper's disapproving look. Both of them knew he was hoping for a sudden Assemble call - that would surely get him out of the meeting - but as much as he hoped, they never struck at the right time.
Except, this time it wasn't a call for assistance, and neither it was an automated spam message with Pizza Hut promo codes. Tony's eyebrows drew close and his lips upturned as he read and re-read the obvious rant written on his screen, typing up his answer before he managed to resist the morbid curiosity that was fueled by his boredom.
Whoever it was, they were justifiably angry and the whole situation was almost too comical to be true, except he'd known people exactly like the runaway bride, selfish, greedy and stupid. He totally understood the woman's desire to just go and load up on tequila shots somewhere - so he bid her a haste farewell, all the while snickering to himself.
"It's Rogers," Tony offered in the way of explanation to a glaring Pepper, locking his phone away and settling in to continue pretending he was listening as another old, crusty white man offered his input on topics he was too much of a dinosaur to even really know about.
He couldn't stop thinking about the incident over the days, the story making him snort more times than he could count as the memory randomly crossed his mind in the lab, at the coffee pot or during dinner. So when a message came through from that very same number, the smirk snuck up onto his face before he even read its contents.
A brief crash course in memes from Parker had turned out to be more useful than ever. Irritating Rogers with pictures got old very fast, however, in moments Tony got rendered speechless they proved to be the perfect substitute for trying to articulate all his thoughts on the matter.
Celebrity appearance, she said? More likely than one would think. The engineer had nearly doubled over in a fit of laughter when she'd texted him that; obviously, the woman had no clue who she was texting with and he decided to further indulge in his curiosity by asking for her name: Friday did the rest.
A phone number and a name, ten minutes, and all her social media were free for him to stalk. Investigate- uh, observe. With little effort, Tony found both her and her brother, the unlucky groom, and the runaway bride and even her step-dad. On paper, they all looked like average middle-class families. Nothing seemed amiss.
It didn't mean anything, but Tony caught himself thinking about the woman. Perhaps it might have been the mischievous gleem in her eyes that was easily spotted in every picture or perhaps the raunchy sense of humour not much different from his own. Pretty, witty and smart - what's there not to like?
"So that's why you've been going around, smiling like a middle-schooler with a crush," Natasha's voice whisper-shouted in Tony's ear as the spy discreetly peered over his shoulder into his phone. He had the chat pulled up, debating on starting a casual conversation-
"Jesus Christ, Romanoff, somebody needs to put a bell on you," Tony snapped, startled, pressing the button to lock his phone immediately.
"Uhuh," The redhead replied, side-eyeing a snickering Barnes. "Who is she?"
Tony rubbed his face, feeling the beginnings of a blush starting to creep in. He felt like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to and the rest of the team acting like children wasn't helping the matter. "I got a butt-dial text about some wedding drama. Some chick's brother's fiance was fucking her own stepdad and ditched the wedding for her old man."
Stunned silence settled briefly into the room as Romanoff's eyes widened and Barnes choked on his orange juice. Serves him right, Tony thought, and continued his coffee-making process in quiet irritation.
"Wait, wait, hold on," Wilson half-laughed half-yelled. "You gotta spill the tea, man, this sounds too good to be true. Stories like that just don't fall into your hands."
With a sigh, he recounted the woman's story and read the texts aloud, silencing his snickering enough to be able to keep a straight face - but not for long, Rogers decided it was the time for another one of his Captain America Is Disappointed In You speeches and Tony himself couldn't even disagree.
Now that he thought about it, he came off as a kind of asshole. She and her family was going through something traumatic and he went and treated it like free entertainment. Which, to be fair, it was, but she didn't deserve to be treated like a circus clown. She actually seemed like a good sister and friend.
"Just text her," Natasha rolled her eyes at him, grabbing the coffee pot out of his frozen hand. "You're not Steve, you can keep a decent conversation via text."
Being compared to Steve and his pre-historic messaging habits really did a number on Tony's ego; the eyeroll he gave Romanoff was truly out of this world, all but teleporting him to his lab where he tried to find a way to approach the woman without coming off as incredibly creepy, as if the fact that he'd stalked her on social media didn't already put him firmly into the weirdo category.
Most likely, Tony would have spent many many days on overthinking before just grabbing one of his suits to make a truly impressive landing on her small balcony downtown; thankfully, fate had intervened and saved him from making another epic mistake. He'd made a note to ask Thor about it sometime, settling down with his tablet and popcorn bowl to watch TV on the team's movie night.
Or, more precisely, Tony settled in to watch the drama unfold as the various members of the team fought tooth and nail for the film that they wanted to watch. He never cared about it much, dozing off halfway through most of them - his teammates had the worst taste in movies - so he didn't bother joining the scuffle except when it was Peter's turn to pick. For obvious reasons.
"If you can't decide I'm gonna have someone else pick a movie," Natasha rolled her eyes, equally fed up with fully grown adults acting like spoiled toddlers.
With a stutter of his breath, Tony's hand reached for his phone as he had an Idea.
Seconds tickled as the "typing..." bubble appeared and disappeared multiple times. She must think he's just a thirsty frat boy; Tony's brow furrowed, but the curiosity was far too strong in him. Something about her vibe, her feisty nature captivated him and kept him thinking about her.
The agreement came as a surprise. In the two minutes the woman had spent thinking up her answer, Tony prepared himself to be rebuffed gently, or, worst case, be called a creep. But no - she agreed, but not before vehemently insisting that if he would end up being a creepy serial killer, she would haunt his ass for the remainder of his life.
Friday couldn't come soon enough. Tony spent most of the day loitering between his lab and the penthouse, glancing at his phone every now and then to make sure she wouldn't cancel on him last minute. The engineer wanted to see the witty, no-filter-having woman in the flesh.
And see her, he did. He'd pulled up in front of the hole-in-the wall Ramen&Bar place Clint had been raving about weeks prior - contrary to popular belief, Tony was perfectly fine with going to places that didn't have Michelin stars - and leaned against the door of his Audi R8, eyes immediately taking note of the figure calmly walking down the street, head tilted down where she was typing up a reply to him.
Tony smirked as she lifted her face up to see him, mouth immediately falling open. The shock was obvious; it lasted mere seconds until her shoulders dropped and she sighed almost... In disappointment. He frowned.
"I jinxed it, didn't I? Here's my celebrity appearance," The laugh was a little nervous and quite sardonic. "Hi, Tony, nice to finally see you."
He smiled, unsure, quipping back easily. "Let's face it, I'm not the worst famous Tony out there." Opening the door of the building for the woman, she stepped in eagerly enough, eyes immediately falling on the bartender and the few dimly lit tables in the back.
"Not by any means," She turned towards him, walking backwards. Tony met her stare; it was just like he'd imagined it to be, curious, mischievous and a little daring. She didn't even attempt to play subtle, raking over him from head to toe. "Not at all, I think," She gave another teasing smile, finally turning around, addressing the bartender and rattling off her order without as much as looking at the menu.
Tony couldn't stop staring. He was aware it was creepy, she was aware of his clever brown eyes barely paying attention to their surroundings or the beer or the food. The woman just quirked an eyebrow every time she caught him. His curiosity couldn't wait any more. "Why aren't you freaking out?" He blurted out, cursing himself out almost immediately after the words left his mouth.
"My almost-sister-in-law was fucking her own stepdad," The woman deadpanned. "I ran out of fucks to give, sorry." She thoughtfully chewed her food, briefly looking to the side. "Not to sound like an asshole, but don't you have enough people fawning over you? Doesn't it get old?"
Tony nodded, choosing to stay silent on the matter besides offering an amicable, "That's valid."
The mischief lit up again in her eyes. "You look taller on TV," She snorted, immediately falling into a fit of laughter at his face full of outrage. He sputtered, muttering something about audacity of some people, which made her only laugh harder. "Here's a pro tip from my 4'11 bestie: when someone calls you short, you snarl at them and say you're fun-sized. She swears by it," The woman remarked conversationally, grinning a two hundred watt smile.
Tony was glad at least someone was enjoying their little... Date. "And you know all about fun, don't you?" He aimed for grumpy; it came out as teasing. His famous smirk made a return appearance as he watched her throat bob.
The atmosphere between them had changed at some point; the same old routine of teasing and dancing around each other, but this time, Tony all but purred in satisfaction, finally meeting someone who was an even match to his wit and charm.
"I do," She replied with that cocky confidence, her devil eyes lighting up, lingering on his face. "Got a problem with that?"
The plate was pushed away, napkin falling into the food carelessly as he gestured for the waiter to bring the check. "As a scientist, I cannot confirm whether a theory is true until I have direct evidence," The bullshit flowed easily from his mouth, but the woman appeared to be amused by it - for a change. "M'fraid I'm gonna need that evidence," His fingers drummed on the table, impatiently, inches away from her hand.
"Of course, Mr. Stark," Her voice dropped, she was fully aware of what she was doing by calling him that. That, and those deep, magnetic eyes made Tony's trousers feel a little too tight for comfort.
His phone rang loudly, dissipating the atmosphere they had created with a shrill noise. Captain Cockblock struck again.
Fumbling fingers, Tony tapped the green icon, shooting an apologetic look to the woman. "Rogers, there better be another alien invasion or I'm revoking your phone privileges," The woman chortled, taking a sip of her beer, trying hard not to seem like she was listening in and failing spectacularly at it. "Today, out of all days? Can't Strange fill in for me?" The engineer palmed his face, running a hand through his neatly done-up hair. It would be covered in soot and sweat in an hour anyways. "Fine, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Romanoff better be hauling Barton's lazy ass out of Bed-Stuy." With a frown, Tony poked the red icon and stuffed the phone back in his pocket, looking for all and all, like an angry adolescent.
The woman, however, didn't indicate any signs of displeasure. Her hand timidly reached out for his, giving it a brief squeeze. "Go, save the world, Mr. Stark," Her smile was sympathetic. They both stood up at the same time, Tony watching her incredulously as the woman untied a scrap of red fabric from around her neck and placed it around his wrist, tying the fabric with a loose but, frankly, pretty knot. "I like that bandanna, would be a shame if you didn't return it," She explained, shrugging her shoulders.
Tony snorted, fondly rolling his eyes, before beelining for the door, activating his Iron Man suit on the way out. Turning around before take off, he noticed her throw a couple of crumpled bills to the server who was too busy ogling him.
He forgot to pay for dinner, Tony realized as he made his way to the other part of the city. Well, fuck, he would definitely have to see her again.
---
An alien invasion during her first good date in ages - scribble, scribble, sigh. She couldn't do much more than that - just as she thought her string of bad luck had ended, the world turned around and flipped her a juicy bird, all but laughing straight in her face. Like that already wasn't enough, oh no, she groused as she spied the debris and random abandoned cars on her way home - it looked like some portion of the battle had been close to her home and only the sheer mental exhaustion that resulted from her life being turned upside down during the last month prevented her from having a full-on freak-out in the middle of the eerily quiet street.
Truly, the fucks she had to give had been expired.
The gloomy mood was interrupted by a cry - for help or of outrage, she didn't know, but the kindness in her, the very values she'd been raised with didn't allow her just to walk by, and with another resigned sigh, she tucked the nice blouse she'd put on for the date under her warm sweater and set off in the direction of the sound, finding the culprit in little under a couple of minutes.
Freeing the trapped civilian wasn't easy but, thankfully, neither it required super-strength or any kind of heavy machinery. The man thanked her and with him in tow, both of them set off to inspect nearby nooks and crannies. Logic won that day - if there's was one person, there could be more.
Hours later, sweaty, sore and bruised, the woman greedily chugged the water bottle someone had passed onto her as the amount of medics and firefighters had finally reached the threshold of when her help wasn't needed anymore. While her date and his colleagues fought whatever nasty that thought NYC was a sandbox battleground for their amusement, the woman found herself helping out with retrieval & evacuation of the civilians that didn't make it out of the neighborhood before the heat of the fight reached it. There were no deaths registered as of then and deep inside, she felt proud, knowing that she had contributed to the statistic at least a little.
Her phone was dying, her body was covered in dirt and scratches from head to toe and the bruises were beginning to ache. Tony's worry-worting was cute but the tiredness overcame her, making her brain sluggish and her demeanor short, so she hastily pocketed the phone, trailing over to the closest man in uniform she could spot.
"Sir?" She addressed him, eyeing the unfamiliar logo on his jacket. "Can I go, please?" She pointed to the yellow tape surrounding the makeshift medical station.
"I'm going to have to see your ID first," He replied apologetically, tapping away on his tablet.
With a sigh, she dug through her purse, giving it to him and using the brief moment of respite to smooth back her hair and dust off her clothing. There was a cloud of concrete and dirt surrounding her.
"I'm afraid I can't let you go just yet, Mr. Stark left strict instructions for you to be picked up by him personally," The agent gave the ID back with a suspicious glint in his eye.
"Oh c'mon," The annoyed whine escaped her lips before she registered it. "It was our first date," She offered to the puzzled agent, only succeeding in making him lean back and inspect her with a raised eyebrow. "Bye," She replied none too kindly, walking off to find a place to sit down.
The time passed in a strange way. The aches and pains and exhaustion made it stop, and if someone would have asked her, she wouldn't know how much of it has passed until her eyes reluctantly cracked open at the sound of a familiar voice, coming to see a pair of expensive shoes covered in dust. At least she wasn't the only one that looked like she'd taken a roll through someone's gritty attic.
"Morning, you Tasmanian Devil," Tony sounded jovial, all things considered.
"Hello to you too, Tin Can," The woman greeted him on par, without missing a beat.
"Now, now," He offered her his hand, which she took gratefully, before pulling her to her feet. "I come with peace offerings. Your building is under quarantine and I've got a perfectly good bed and a shower with thirty settings on it at my place. Whatcha say?"
She only pretended to think about it. Her reply was haste. "I don't make a habit of going into strange dudes' towers but I'll make an exception this once." A shower and a bed sounded heavenly.
Finally getting the chance to look at him, Tony appeared to be unhurt but equally exhausted and dirty. A few scrapes on his face and arms, he was missing his blazer, and had a weary tone to his face. Some parts of his Iron Suit were still on him - like the chest plate - but besides that, he was whole. The red of the bandanna she gave him was equally dirty but still neatly tied around his wrist, just like she left it.
"How's your relationship with heights?" He asked her and all she could do was blink, watching curiously as his body was enveloped by the red and gold, crawling over his skin like a swarm of shiny termites. That was all the warning she got before the metal arms - quite literally - sweeped her off her feet. "Faster this way," She could hear the nonchalant shrug in the metallic voice coming from the helmet. "Now hold on."
Awe and fear culminated inside the woman but the weariness had long since surpassed comfortable levels and all she did was give a weak nod and close her eyes as Tony lifted off, gusts of wind making her skin break out in goosebumps and her hair stand up wildly on her head. During the short trip her eyes fluttered open only once just to close back up immediately - all she saw were clouds, white and fluffy, like marshmallows, and the shining beacons of NYC skyscrapers somewhere far away.
The paralyzing anxiety fully dissipated only when her feet found purchase on the tiled floors, Tony's arms never ceasing to support her swaying frame until the breaths she took were her own and not the result of her fluttering heart and muted panic. "You with me, Wonder Woman?"
"Yes, Weird Science," She mumbled. "Thanks for the heads up," The annoyance had to find a way out and that it did.
"You're welcome," The cocky smirk returned to Tony's face as his suit receded, leaving him barefoot, dirty jeans and a torn tee. He stretched with a sweet groan, gesturing towards the door. "Friday will direct you towards the showers. Feel free to grab a t-shirt from the closet."
The woman nodded, too awestruck by the man and his hospitality, eyes darting all over the tastefully decorated room, the expensive knick-knacks scattered everywhere, the absolutely enormous sloppily made bed. Tony Stark liked to live luxuriously - even the shower was a state of the art technological wonder.
Dirty pants and dusty blouse went flying somewhere in the back of the bathroom as the woman stood up on her tippy toes, reaching for the sky, stretching her sore muscles. The glass wall of the shower had began to fog up from the hot water. The knock went barely noticed by the woman who jumped as Tony's voice startled her out of her daydream.
"Forgot I ran out of towels here..." He trailed off, voice dropping as he spotted her only in her underwear. She turned, responding with a lopsided grin, spying the stack of fluffy grey in his arms, the arc reactor in the middle of his bare chest. He smirked, "Damn. Can I join you?" Giving her what only could be described as a respectful once-over.
Tired as she was, her sense of humour and wit didn't go down for a much needed nap just yet. "I don't know, you tell me. Can you?" Turning back around, the woman made a short show of unclasping her bra and tossing it in the general vicinity of her dirty clothing pile. She'd worn a cute matching set of undies that day and the fact didn't go over Tony's head, she was sure.
The door clicked shut just as she raised her face to the stream of water, feeling calmer with each second, muscles relaxing themselves as the hot stream washed away the dirt and the dust off her body.
"And I thought this evening was ruined," Tony's voice insinuated from behind her. A hand reached for the soap, his body heat scorching compared to the steaming water. He stayed just a few inches away, enough to feel him, enough for her body to respond and crave more. "It's nice to be wrong for a change. Refreshing."
The woman hummed, reaching up to run her fingers through her wet, knotted hair. "First decent evening in ages. I wasn't gonna let some uninvited Predator knock-offs ruin it for me," She was more than a little peeved at the space invaders interrupting her nice date. Tony was a great conversationalist, it was easy to talk to him and he had a brilliant sense of humour. Not to mention the obvious, he was easy on the eyes.
"That's the spirit," The voice was closer now, almost in her ear. Even though her eyes were closed, the woman was aware he was reaching for something, letting him butt her hands out of the way to lather her hair, scrubbing at her scalp meticulously, until the sounds that left her mouth bordered on embarrassing. Once that was done, Tony moved onto her body, running his hands over her back, the outside of her hips. "M'not stepping over, am I?" He asked quietly, touch faltering every time he brushed over a scrape or a bruise.
"No, you're doing great, Tony," It wasn't exactly conventional - sharing a very intimate shower after an interrupted first date, but then again, nothing about this man was conventional and her life had already been turned upside down no less than twice recently. The woman didn't lie, the gentle, caring touch felt soothing.
Arching her back, she lifted her arms to repay him with the same, raking her fingers through his hair, leaning into the shudder that ran throughout his body. It was nice to bask in whatever they had going on, so the motion to face him was almost reluctant. Water droplets stuck to his eyelashes and his eyes were tired but not in a way that suggested he'd kick her out first chance.
Their kiss was sweet, slow, like they already were familiar with each other in a special way. The woman tugged on his lip with her teeth - such was her character - and he pressed closer to her, raising a hand to hold the side of her face. In muted curiosity, she couldn't help but wonder if there ever had been someone that waited for him once his battles were over.
Tony's eyelashes, the very same that had no business being this long on a man, fluttered against her cheek as they stood under the shower, letting water wash away the day.
"I've always wanted to kiss in the rain, like they do in the movies. This is the closest I've gotten," She whispered, gently kneading the arch of his shoulders. "Feels better than it looks, to be honest."
Tony snorted, reaching for the knob to turn it off. "Cheesy," He teased her, wrapping a warm, fluffy towel around her body. Both people made quick work of drying themselves, exiting the fogged up bathroom, making way into the bedroom, padding soft on the carpet and falling down on the bed carelessly.
"I'm the queen of cheesy one-liners," The woman raised her eyebrows, scooting under the sheets next to Tony who opened his arms wide, a smirk on his face. She didn't give him the chance to reply, slotting her lips over his instead and groaning as their heated bodies once again rested against each other.
She ran her hands over Tony's defined pecs, glossing over the arc reactor, raked nails over his tummy, eating up the sighs leaving his mouth at the gesture. He was a beautiful man, she wasn't going to lie to herself. The warmth that settled low in her belly grew, spreading throughout her limbs and temporarily overshadowing the exhaustion.
The engineer, too, was quite excited - his erection poked her hip - and content to be steered to her wishes by the hand in his hair. Groans and sighs left his moist, parted lips as his eagerness bled into his hands, grip firm and steady on the panting woman's hips.
Adrenaline did something to her body, caused it to ache sweetly, a hunger to be satisfied only by a lover's touch. And touch she did; her mouth tasted him, alternating sucking gentle marks onto his throat and nibbling on the skin stretched thinly over his collarbones. Tony's sighs grew in depth and volume with every silent action of worship.
No inch of his body was left untouched, the woman was an all-hands-on-deck kind of lover, happily making her way down until soft lips wrapped around the crown of his cock, making his hips arch into it, hands fisted in the soft white sheets. "You devil," Tony gasped out, limbs turning to jelly, watching the woman all but devour his cock.
She popped off minutely, a trail of sticky saliva running down her chin, sticking to his glistening cock. "The power of Christ compels me?" With a smirk, her tongue trailed from his balls to the very tip, paying extra attention to the frenulum, making Tony shudder and gasp out an embarrassed laugh.
"Uh-uh," Stripped of his usual snark, he was but a man at her mercy.
"It's not very compelling," The predatory stretch of her lips widened as she took mercy on him, giving his cock a few slow tugs with her hand. Her mouth, her hand and his cock were dripping. "Gonna let me do all the legwork, Mr. Stark?" She sat up straighter, inadvertently drawing his eyes to the apex of her thighs where the woman's sex glistened in the dim light, lips swollen and inviting.
It sounded like she was mocking him, teasing him, egging him into a lustful frenzy none of them had the energy for but craved anyway. Tony Stark wasn't the one to back down from a fair challenge so he relented, flipping them over with ease, landing between her spread legs, eyes drawn to the momentary bounce of her breasts. Tony wasted no time in suckling a hard nipple into his mouth, humming in response to her choked-off moan of surprise.
"Tony," Her body arched into his touch, tender skin hot under the callouses on his fingertips.
"Yes, demon, dear?" A lopsided grin and laughter in his eyes preceded the wet stripe Tony licked down to her navel. "Wasn't there something about not telling demons your name? Guess you have power over me now," He trailed off cheekily, soft breaths puffing over her mound.
The woman bit her lip, peering down to rake a hand through Tony's hair, snagging a fistful to gently steer him towards her pussy. Tony's smile was one of satisfaction as he obediently followed her silent order, nosing along the line of her cunt, dipping his tongue to run slow, sloppy lines through the soaked folds.
"Fuck," She mumbled, spreading her legs without shame. "Yeah, right there," Her fingers turned white at the agility of Tony's tongue on her clit. He was swift and relentless in pursuit of the spots that made her moan and clench around nothing. The moisture of her sex soaked his goatee but he couldn't care less.
He growled when she attempted to withdraw, wrapping his muscular arms around her thighs to keep her still for his pleasure, wringing noises that increased in volume with every stroke of his tongue on her sex.
"Tony- please, Tony, I'm gonna-" The warning was brief; her back arched as a broken moan found its way past her moist, parted lips, her pussy spasmed, dripping all over his face and the sheets.
The engineer hid his smile against her thigh, discreetly wiping the obscene amounts of moisture she produced. It wasn't very long until her hands, slightly shaky, were tugging him upwards to meet his face in a rushed, graceless kiss. There was an equal lack of finesse in the glide of his erection along her sex.
"Okay?" He mumbled into her ear, lining himself up with her fluttering cunt.
"Please," She gasped, her hands pushing his hips onto her, eagerly lifting up to accept the sweet intrusion.
There was a quiet stutter in both of their breathing, hearts thudding against their ribs as he finally bottomed out, the thickness of him nestled snugly inside the rippling muscle. The pace he started out was agonizingly slow and inexplicably sweet, neither of them wanting to end their coupling prematurely but not being able to hold back the need that consumed them both.
"Fuck, you're so good to me," Tony's mumbling was overshadowed by the slick sounds coming from the place they were joined. "Gonna fill up this pretty pussy."
The woman keened at the idea, digging her nails into his ass, pulling him further into her.
"You'd like that?" He picked up the pace, blunt tip of his cock catching up with the tail end of her previous orgasm and re-lighting the fire in her belly anew.
"Yeah, Tony, please," No trace of the previous coyness in her voice, the woman was more than ready to beg, murder and steal to feel the man come undone in her arms.
It didn't take long, not with the adrenaline making their blood sing and the chemistry they shared. The brutal pace of Tony's hips quickly grew sloppy and erratic, the tightening of her inner muscles egging him on. He chased his release with deep, powerful thrusts that had the bedsheets rustle pitifully and beads of clear swear drip down his forehead.
As soon as her body arched once more, Tony let go of his control, slotting himself deeply into her spasming heat, cock throbbing as he painted her insides white with his seed, groaning incomprehensible compliments and profanities through his teeth. Chest heaving, the engineer couldn't do much more but let himself carefully fall onto her chest, aftershocks making him twitch when the woman began running a gentle hand through his hair.
"We're doing this again," He decided, still breathless but already a step ahead. She laughed.
Tony Stark taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @downeyreads @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @slothspaghettiwrites @bluecrazedandbeautiful
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camp staghorn - 1
Okay here is the official first chapter of Camp Staghorn! I know it’s long and maybe not the most entertaining but gotta have that building up first. Now things will start to pick up just you wait. Thank you for all the love on the snippet too! Let me know if you would like to be tagged!
my masterlist
~~~
Aelin sighed as she finally got off the bright yellow bus, her three bags weighing heavily on her arms and shoulder. The sun was already high in the sky and beating down despite Terrasen’s usually mild temperatures. Lysandra hopped down on the gravel path the bus had stopped in front of with a huff, Dorian and Elide followed.
They were all about to spend the next week as camp counselors for a huge group of kids all in 1st-6th grade. She was just glad they had 6th graders. While Aelin loved kids but she wasn’t particularly looking forward to what she knew would be a long and tiring week. But, being a camp counselor would look great for her college applications. It was the summer right before their senior year, school had ended only a week prior.
A number of other people who looked around her age shuffled about the area already convening into their respective friend groups. A few sat around old wooden picnic tables that were set up outside of the camp’s entrance. A huge sign was erected overhead with the words Camp Staghorn painted in white block letters.
Chaol finally exited the bus and came to stand by Aelin.
“Really, Aelin? Three bags?” Chaol commented, shifting his singular black, duffel bag on his shoulder.
Aelin shrugged, “I didn’t know what all I would need.”
Chaol only half-heartedly shook his head. Although Aelin and Chaol had broken up in the middle of junior year their relationship was still relatively amicable.
Lys quickly shoved between Aelin and Chaol. “Aelin, look!” She whispered loudly into Aelin’s ear, pointing towards a group of boys occupying the grass near the entrance.
At that, Aelin perked up, especially when she laid eyes on the group. Seriously, four of some of the best-looking high school boys she had ever seen were huddled there.
A boy with tan, golden skin and blonde curly hair piled on his head seemed to be the focal point of the group, Aelin could hear his voice all the way where she was but couldn’t discern what he was saying. The boy immediately next to him looked to be his brother but with a brown mop of hair instead. Two other boys were there too, one with long, straight brown hair and a grumpy demeanor radiating off of him. The other boy was who Aelin really noticed though, his hair was a unique blonde, it appeared almost silver and was cut shorter, his skin had a healthy glow. He was in the circle with the other boys but she could tell his mind wasn’t. He was looking out at the expansive, blue lake that could be seen just through the trees with a thoughtful, pensive stare on his features.
Dorian stepped up behind Aelin, following Lys’s finger to the gathering of boys.
“Oh, they go to Mistward High. Chaol and I have had a few lacrosse games against them,” Dorian offered nonchalantly.
“They’re gorgeous,” Lys giggled.
Aelin shoved Lysandra’s shoulder playfully, “You’re dating my cousin!”
“I know, I know, but maybe you could have a summer camp fling. Oh, my gods! Like Camp Rock, you hear him singing your song, or whatever happened, and boom it’s love at first sight.” Aelin laughed and rolled her eyes.
At her laugh, the silver-haired boy turned his eyes in her direction and they made brief eye contact, Aelin gave him a small smile and the boy looked away immediately. Well, that was rude.
A man suddenly stepped up onto one of the empty picnic tables, a clipboard in hand. His hat was embroidered with Camp Staghorn and he wore a matching t-shirt in a deep green hue.
“Alright, everyone listen up please!” He clapped his hands a few times to grab everyone’s attention.
“My name is Gavriel, I’m the director of Camp Staghorn so if you have any questions, comments, or concerns I’m the guy to come to. Now, you all have signed off on behaving and being camp counselors who will set a good example but let’s just go over a few ground rules. First, no funny business between boys and girls camps especially at night, stay in your cabins after lights out. Second, remember to clean up after yourselves and your campers. Third, stay on top of your respective schedules. And really, just use common sense please, you’re all seniors you know the difference between right and wrong I don’t want to have to stand up here and list out a bunch of rules for a bunch of hypothetical scenarios, understood?”
A few head nods and murmurs of yes rippled through the crowd.
“Great, then I’ll skip over that, you all know what’s expected of you. I’m going to call up names and give you a packet and a t-shirt. In that packet will be a list of your campers, your camp number, your cabin number, a map, and your camp’s schedule for the next week. The schedules are very packed so remember to stay on top of things, okay?”
More nods and murmurs of acknowledgment.
Gavriel began to call names and people milled up to him to grab their new belongings.
“Fenrys Moonbeam.” A few snickers went through the group and the blonde boy from earlier proudly made his way up to Gavriel.
A few more names were called, Aelin remembered hearing the other two boys were named Lorcan and Connall but she was focused on learning the silver-haired boy’s name.
“Rowan Whitethorn.” At that, the boy - Rowan - approached the table. Aelin thought the name fit him.
“Elide Lochan.” Elide quickly made her way to Gavriel as Dorian, Chaol, and Lysandra got called too.
“Aelin Galathynius.” Aelin made her way up, her heavy bags hitting her legs as she walked. She acquired the packet and shirt from Gavriel.
A list of around twelfth names of girls looked back at Aelin. She skimmed them and saw written across the top was her camp number and cabin number with her schedule and map attached. Camp number 6 and cabin 3B. Lys peeked over Aelin’s shoulder.
“Oh, good you have 3B, Elide has 2B and I have 4B.”
Aelin smiled but the three girls were a little put out when they noticed their schedules didn’t really align besides the designated meal times. “What are Dorian and Chaol’s cabins?”
“I don’t know they were in the E ones, they put the boys and girls on opposite sides,” Elide answered. Aelin nodded her head.
“Okay, everyone should have everything now. The kids should arrive in about an hour, so make your way to your cabins and get dressed in your camp shirts. Then we will have a get-to-know-you activity and a little kick-off game when everyone arrives,” Gavriel spoke again.
Once they were dismissed everyone headed towards the cabins and mentally prepared themselves for an incoming army of children.
+++
The introductions had gone fairly well, Aelin could probably name at least seven of the girls’ names off the top of her head. They all appeared friendly and like they would be a solid group, Aelin found herself looking forward to the week surprisingly.
The girls and Aelin had all gotten settled in their cabin and were dressed in matching deep green shirts with the number 6 printed largely in white on the back. They made their way to the center of the camp which accommodated a large wooden stage and matching benches lined up around it in a semi-circle. It was clear at some point the stage and benches had been painted with bright colors and patterns but the paint had begun to peel off with time.
Aelin directed the girls to all sit on the middle bench in the third row as she surveyed the area, looking for any sign of Elide and Lysandra. Most groups were finishing up their introduction games and convening in the main area now as instructed.
Elide appeared from around a group of trees, her girls trailing closely behind. Aelin smiled when she saw her and waved her over. They all quickly settled in and waited for the second part of the day to start.
“I’m already sweating through this shirt,” Elide sighed, fanning herself with the packet given to them earlier.
“Do you know what the kick-off game is?” Aelin asked Elide curiously.
Elide only shook her head.
A few minutes passed and the benches started to get pretty packed with people all chatting noisily.
A cough into a mic alerted everyone, a dozen heads shifted towards the stage.
“Alright, I believe we have all the 6th-grade groups here so why don’t we get started,” Gavriel spoke with enthusiasm.
“So, get ready boys and girls for the great Staghorn mud race! Groups will be pinned against groups, boys vs. girls until there’s only one undefeated girl’s team and one undefeated boy’s team remaining and then we will have the final throw down!”
A few whoops went through the crowd. Fenrys was close to the stage pumping his arm in the air, hyping up his collection of young boys.
“Follow me to the track and we will announce the beginning brackets!” Gavriel hopped off of the stage, he and a few other officials of the camp led the way down a dirt path steering away from the stage.
They all stopped after a short trek, huddled around a middle strip of field complete with obstacles.
“Here you can see what you’ll have to face. First, you have to high knee through the tires, then climb up the wooden wall using the rope and slide down the net on the other side, next crawl through one of the tunnels, and hop from log stump to log stump and book it to the finish line! Of course, you have to do all of that in slippery mud, it will be messy. The first team to get their counselor and all their campers through wins and moves on to the next round,” Gavriel explained.
Aelin could feel the anticipation and eagerness radiating off of counselors and kids alike. Even Aelin was feeling excited, her overly competitive nature boiling to the surface.
Aelin swiftly turned to her small army of 12-year-olds. “Okay, girls, I want every single one of you to be booking it the whole way through, we will come out the winners at all costs, I don’t do losing.”
The girls looked up at Aelin with wide eyes, many nodding their agreement.
“Oh, I forgot to mention the overall winning camp gets ice cream after dinner tonight!” Gavriel interjected.
The stakes were high, not only was Aelin competitive to a fault but she also loved sweets. “Yup, that only confirms it, no losing!”
“We’ll give it our all, promise,” spoke one of her campers. A girl with long brown hair contained in two long braids named Borte, if Aelin remembered correctly.
Aelin smiled, “That’s the spirit,” and offered Borte a high-five.
Gavriel called out the first two camp numbers, both boy groups, that would be competing.
Aelin watched the match closely, noting areas she thought seemed best to avoid and strategizing in her mind. After the race concluded two other camps occupied the starting line, those being made up of girls.
A few more matches came to a close when Dorian and Chaol’s respective groups were called up. Aelin, Lys, and Elide all gave a little whoop, Aelin patted Dorian on the back as he passed her, he flashed back a dazzling smile.
Unfortunately, one of the boys on Dorian’s team fell in the mud and tripped a good number of his fellow campmates, wrecking Dorian’s chances of winning as Chaol and his boys slipped by.
“C’mon Dorian!” Aelin screamed, cupping her hands around her mouth. A few of her girls did the same, encouraging them to get a move on despite them not knowing Dorian; it made Aelin smile. Chaol’s team took the victory and Dorian trudged past Aelin in defeat, his body covered in mud.
At one point Fenrys’ camp and Rowan’s camp went against each other. Aelin subconsciously watched that match like a hawk. Rowan was fast despite the mud and the t-shirt he had changed into seemed to be a bit small, it clung to his upper body, highlighting his muscles. Not to mention, the green complimented his hair and skin tone beautifully.
Rowan was effective in herding his campers through the course, offering a helping hand and encouragement the whole way through unlike Fenrys who completed the obstacles first and resolved to yell at his campers to hurry. Unsurprisingly, Rowan and his camp crossed the finish line as a unit, Fenrys did not look happy but Aelin saw Rowan crack a smile, it was small but it was there.
As time went on both Lys and Elide had gone. Elide’s group had lost against a random camp while Lys had won.
“Alright, last up for the beginning bracket we have camp 6 and camp 9!”
Aelin cracked her knuckles, she had been waiting for camp 6 to be called impatiently.
“Okay, girls, now is our time to shine. Get out there and make me proud, remember stick to the sides, the middle seems to be the most slippery. If you slip it's okay just get right back up, don’t leave anyone behind.” All of them nodded in response.
“Hands in,” Aelin said, sticking her hand in the middle of the huddle, “On 3, 1, 2, 3!”
As Aelin yelled three she and all her campers screamed camp 6 and raised their hands in the air and then took their spot on the starting block.
The counselor of the opposing team seemed snooty, her nose was upturned as if she couldn’t believe she would have to get dirty in a few seconds. Her bright, almost white, blonde hair was braided down her back and she had her arms crossed.
Aelin didn’t have a chance to say anything before Gavriel blew his whistle signaling the start of the race.
Aelin exploded forward, focusing on her footing as she went. Luckily, she was athletic and had played a multitude of sports, including track, throughout the years. Aelin easily made her way through the rows of tires, turning back to check her girls’ progress. They all were keeping up and moving as a unit. Aelin didn’t waste the time to check the other group’s position.
Aelin made it to the wall and grabbed the thick, coarse rope now caked with mud. Her hands slipped but she gritted her teeth and made it to the top of the platform. Borte was right behind her climbing, Aelin reached and grabbed Borte’s hand pulling her up the rest of the way.
Aelin continued that cycle with the rest, offering support when the girls struggled with their grip on the rope then she slid down the net once they were all over the top.
“You got it, girls, keep going!” Aelin encouraged.
Aelin crawled through one of the large, black, plastic tunnels, getting covered with mud in the process. Then she jumped from log to log though they too were coated with mud. Aelin finished off strong, leading the last of her girls across the finish line. Aelin turned her attention back to the course and saw the other camp’s counselor still on the track.
She was truly taking the time to scrap some of the mud off her shoe on the edge of one of the log stumps.
“Remelle! It’s a race, you have to run!” Fenrys screamed from the side. Remelle, apparently, didn’t deign to respond, she only wrinkled her nose.
“Well, camp 6 will be moving on!” Gavriel declared.
Aelin and her girls cheered, jumping at each other forming one big mud hug.
The cycle continued, camps faced off until the brackets grew smaller and smaller. By the time Aelin and her girls went for a second time, the mud on her body was drying uncomfortably.
They succeeded in beating the other group once more using the same strategy.
Before Aelin knew it Gavriel was announcing the final match-up.
“Let’s get a drumroll please for our final throw down,” Gavriel stated, drumming his hands on his knees along with the crowd.
“Representing the boys we have camp 12 and representing the girls we have camp 6!”
The crowd yelled and clapped wildly, Aelin knew she was smiling uncontrollably and was ready to claim her sweet, cold prize.
“Aelin! Aelin! Aelin!” She heard Lys, Elide, and other girls screaming rhythmically.
The boys started up their own chant, which Dorian and Chaol joined, Aelin would punish them later. It was then Aelin fully realized who she was facing: Rowan. The adrenaline had blinded her the last few rounds and she had barely processed who was winning and losing. Now, Rowan Whitethorn was staring back at her from the opposite side of the start.
Even with mud covering much of his body and splattered across his face he was still insanely hot. Aelin hoped the same could be said about her.
Too soon Gavriel announced the beginning of the final race, a loud whistle filled the air and they were off.
Once again, Aelin and her girls stuck to the less muddy sides, navigating the course expertly but it seems Rowan and his boys were doing the same. Aelin didn’t spare much time analyzing their positions but she could tell it was much closer than the previous races. Once again, Aelin fought her way up the rope and dangled off the platform to pull up strugglers. She spared a glance at Rowan, he was doing the same. She huffed, “C’mon girls, it's the last time you have to climb this, you’ve got it!”
Aelin finally got the last one over and flopped down the net which was saturated with mud at this point. Aelin was really looking forward to washing this all off later while she ate her ice cream. She then dove into the tunnel, slithering through at a record speed. Next came the home stretch, all she had to do was jump across the logs. She hopped from one stump to another until she was almost at the end. But on the second to last log, the mud that gathered atop it faltered and she stumbled. Cursing, Aelin regained her footing and prayed it was still enough.
Little did she know Rowan had had his own little tumble. Now, they were neck and neck making a final dash to the finish line. Rowan was probably a bit faster than Aelin and she panicked, her instincts to win at all costs taking over. It just so happened that Rowan was just close enough for her to give him a little nudge, to maybe upset his balance just enough that she could pull ahead. Aelin did just that and Rowan went down, his foot slipped into a small ditch of mud water. In hindsight, Aelin felt dirty but not enough to feel particularly remorseful when she heard the roar of victory from the crowd and her camp.
Aelin turned back and saw Rowan was glaring at her, his foot still submerged in mud. She halted her victory dance and made her way over to him, offering him a hand.
Rowan took it, his large hand dwarfing hers but the feeling of mud squishing between them did ruin the moment for her a bit. Instead of using her hand as leverage, Rowan pulled Aelin towards him and she stumbled, slipping back until she was next to him in his mud pit.
Aelin saw red, although she realized she probably deserved it and was already covered in mud anyway her temper rose. Aelin was just naturally wired to explode at any moment like a nuclear bomb.
Rowan, however, kept his grip firm on Aelin’s hand and he drew her forward until his mouth aligned with Aelin’s ear.
“You’ll pay for that one, Aelin.” Rowan’s breath caressed her ear and a shiver traveled down her spine. Despite the fact he was literally threatening her, Aelin’s heart skipped a beat and her breath hitched.
She kept her bravado about her though and only smirked in response, “It’s on.”
~~~
Hope you’re as excited as I am! All comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated, thank you.
taglist: @live-the-fangirl-life
#rowan x aelin#rowaelin#rowan whitethorn#rowaelin fanfiction#rowaelin au#rowaelin fanfic#aelin#throne of glass#throne of glass fanfiction#aelin x rowan#lysandra#elide lochan#dorian havilliard#chaol westfall#fenrys moonbeam#camp staghorn#aelin ashryver galathynius
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Tommy and Tubbo - An Analysis
Thats right baby we're really fuckin gonna do this,
Just so yall know, this was written on December 5th, directly after the exile.
I really wanna talk about what, I feel, has been the crux of this entire arc; Tommy and Tubbo's relationship, and how it is inherently flawed.
I know that might sound strange- after all, aren't they best friends? And yes! They are! But I think what this arc has revealed is that it wasn't the most stable or healthy relationship. Think about it- what was the source of the conflict between them? When you strip it down to the core, it was exactly what Tubbo pointed out after Tommy screwed over their negotiations. It was respect.
Tommy has never fully respected Tubbo. I don't mean to say that this was purposeful or malicious- I want to stress that Tubbo and Tommy always have genuinely loved each other and were never intentionally unkind. But the nature of their relationship had sort of developed into this protagonist-and-sidekick dynamic. Which was fine, when the two of them were on the same page! Tommy took the lead and Tubbo was happy to help, because why wouldn't he be?
The problems only started when Tubbo was put into a position of authority.
This is where the lack of respect becomes an issue. Because the one thing that has always plagued Tubbo is that he is never taken seriously. People never listen to him- least of all Tommy! Watch any discussion from any of the main plot points of this arc. Tubbo barely gets a word in edgewise in any of them, and he's the fucking president! Even when the country is in his hands, he's ignored, talked over, and dismissed. And at the center of it is Tommy, shouting over him, encouraging anyone else involved to do the same.
And while we're talking about being listened to, I wanna remind you all of something Wilbur said, back during the festival. He said that Tubbo is a yes man. Tommy was quick to deny that, to defend Tubbo- but in reality? He was right.
Tubbo isn't necessarily a good liar. In fact, he's pretty abysmal at it. But one thing he's proven himself to be good at, time and time again, is being amicable. At going along with things, at saying yes, at hiding hiding any feelings that may conflict with whoever is in charge. It's something he defaults to- just accepting that his input doesn't matter, that it's easier to shut up and nod along. And as unintentional as it may be, Tommy has consistently taken advantage of that.
The argument right before the exile is a prime example. Tubbo was clearly opposed to the war plan. He said so, many times, and clearly didn't want to agree! But Tommy and Quackity and Fundy refused to let him speak his mind. They kept pushing, they made it clear that they wouldn't take no for an answer, and finally Tubbo defaulted- he said yes, because that's what they wanted from him. That's what they expected from him.
Of course, this was purely unintentional. Tommy undoubtedly never considered that the way he treated Tubbo was hurtful. But then, that's the point, isn't it? He never considered that. He never stopped to think about what Tubbo wants, how Tubbo feels about things, because why would he? Tubbo is just going to agree and be fine, isn't he?
This becomes more outwardly malicious when they talk about Tubbo's responsibility. Tommy repeatedly brings up in their arguments that he didn't want Tubbo to be president. That Tubbo wasn't his first choice- which, honestly, is kind of just mean on it's own. But he also reminds Tubbo that L'Manburg is on his shoulders now, that he can't afford to mess up- in between telling him that he can't possibly entertain the idea of exiling him. He creates this vicious double standard; never letting Tubbo really speak his own mind, yet putting all of the pressure and culpability on him for the fallout. Expecting Tubbo to be fine with taking the blame for what he does and wants. Expecting everything to stay as it always has been.
And that's where the discs come in.
When they argue, Tommy always says the same thing- that it's always been him and Tubbo versus Dream, that it's always been about the discs. And that is exactly the issue. That's where Tommy's ignorance shines through. He always assumed that he knew what Tubbo wanted and what Tubbo cared about. He assumed that Tubbo stuck with him because he wanted the discs as much as he did. But that was never the case.
Ranboo made a very astute comment towards the end of Tubbo's vod- about how the discs don't actually have a physical meaning, but that they're more of a symbol. That the discs have always represented power. They represent the struggle between Dream and Tommy for control. The fight between Dream and Tommy has always been about power, from the start.
But as Tubbo tells Ranboo, earlier in their talks- he doesn't care about power. He never has. (This is mostly my reasoning for why I don't really like the concept of Tubbo "being the next Schlatt", but that's a different conversation...) He didn't ask to be president. He was thrust into power- into responsibility- that he never wanted. He doesn't even want to keep the presidency! He fully intends for it to be passed on to Ranboo in the election.
No- For Tubbo, it was never about the discs. It was never about power. It was only ever about Tommy.
When Tommy went to war with Dream over the discs, Tubbo didn't help because he wanted them. He helped because it was Tommy, because this was what Tommy wanted and what would make him happy, so of course Tubbo would help- how could he not? And when Tommy joined L'manburg and the revolution, Tubbo joined, too- not necessarily because he wanted to separate from the SMP, but because it was what Tommy wanted, and he could help, so he did. And when Tommy and Wilbur were exiled? Tubbo put aside his morals, everything he stood for, to become a rebel spy. Because Tommy needed him to. Then, they won the war, and L'Manburg was still destroyed. Tubbo was the president of a crater- and he started to rebuild, from the ground up. Because Tommy told him he had to.
Tommy kept talking about how much he sacrificed for L'manburg, but hadn't Tubbo made sacrifices, too? Time and time again, Tubbo has put aside everything he had or wanted for Tommy. He's lost his house, his pets, everything he cared about, over and over. And it was always for Tommy.
Tommy was all Tubbo had ever cared about. He always had been. But what Tubbo realized, as he was standing on that wall, was that Tommy didn't feel the same way. That Tommy would always choose the discs over him. That Tommy cared more about power than he did about his best friend.
And that, in the end, is why Tubbo chose to exile Tommy.
Tubbo knew that the war wouldn't end well. He knew that Tommy was leading them into another hopeless battle. He knew that once again, he was going to have to sacrifice everything he had and cared about for Tommy's discs. For a stupid power struggle he doesn't even have a part in.
But this time, the choice was his. He could choose to hold on to something. He could choose to stop, and think, and do things his way. Being in exile isn't fun, but Tommy knows how to take care of himself. He'll be fine, and Tubbo knew that. He didn't exile him out of malice. He did what, in his mind, he had to do.
Because Tubbo knows first hand that Tommy won't just go down with his ship- he'll drag anyone he can down with him, kicking and screaming, no matter how many times he has to. He'd burn L'Manburg to the ground if it meant he got those discs, and Tubbo knows that. He wasn't wrong when he said Tommy is a liability. Tommy's priorities are with his vendettas- Tubbo's is with his people. This was where their paths had to diverge.
The separation is going to be interesting. I think it will be an incredibly good opportunity for character development. And I also see this whole arc as an amazing stress-test.
People keep talking about how Tommy and Tubbo's friendship will never be the same, but I don't think that's a bad thing. I think that however long it takes, in the end, Tommy and Tubbo will make amends, build again, and be better off for it.
After all- Tubbo still has Tommy's last disc, doesn't he?
#mcyt#tubbo#tubbolive#tommyinnit#dream smp#ghost.txt#this was written in a fucking fever dream at 3 am pls dont judge my grammar too hard
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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.18}
*Severus Snape x OC*
Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.
General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing
Words: 4k
Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!
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The way back to the castle was quick and they arrived just in time for dinner, but still made their ways into the great hall separately like they usually did. All the way, Robin couldn't help smiling to herself, not even as she sat down with her friends, who resided at the Slytherin table today.
It took them two seconds to notice her unusually good mood and another to comment on it, but Robin just explained that she'd had a nice day in Hogsmeade and an enjoyable walk back. Jorien snorted in return, Cas frowned, and Simon did both at once, while Michael and Gideon simply didn't know Robin well enough to be aware of the fact that she hated shopping, and designated Hogsmeade days even more. Jorien was quick to explain that fact to them however, and Robin just shrugged it off with another smile. She did add then that she'd mostly enjoyed intimidating a shop owner to accept her terms of a bargain –she did not give details on either though– and her friends finally agreed that this already sounded a whole lot more like the Robin they knew.
Dinner was mostly amicable chatter and talk about tomorrow's tutoring then, as well as a ridiculously serious discussion between Jorien and Gideon about an incident they'd all heard of somehow –involving two sixth years, a dark hallway past curfew, some certain body parts and an enlargement charm– which resulted in second-hand embarrassment for Robin, Michael and Simon, and a giggling fit for Cas. Honestly, Jorien was all facts and no emotion sometimes, Cas just didn't possess a sense of shame, and Gideon obviously went to great lengths to win an argument, no matter how ridiculous it was. The other three just had to bear it out. Robin cringed at the mental images the discussion was giving her, but on the other hand she found it entertaining to see Jorien winning the argument with such an ease. It made her feel proud of the girl, if nothing else.
Finally when dinner was over and the group once again among the last to leave, the boys decided that they would tag along for tutoring in the morning, mainly for the sake of getting help with a charms and herbology assignment on Simon's and Michael's end respectively. Robin absolutely didn't mind going over some NEWT topics as well if they wanted her to, and while she immediately placed the disclaimer that she was only a year ahead and might not even be of any actual help to them at all, the five people in front of her simply laughed at that statement. Obviously neither of them believed her to be 'just a year ahead' for real, and while she felt very much flattered by their confidence in her, she also wasn't quite sure if she would actually be able to meet their ridiculously high expectations. Oh well… an issue for another day.
From there, the girls made their way down to the dungeons like every night, with Robin coming along for half of the way, and upon their usual question about her plans for the evening, she told them that Snape and her were in the process of experimenting with some new substances and she thus couldn't say when she would be returning to her dorm. A beautiful way to shape the truth, she thought, and the girls did as they ought to by shrugging it off as another ordinary night of her work. They did her the favour of taking her winter robes back to their room though, when Robin bid them goodnight and went ahead to let herself into the office.
"Don't get settled, we aren't staying." Snape said the moment she closed the door behind herself, and the smirk was back on her lips in no time, but it was dimmed down again when she saw the annoyed frown on his face that accompanied the statement.
"What's the matter? Change in whatever plans you made?"
"Indeed." He grumbled, picking up a stack of notebooks, and then ushered her straight back out into the hallway, where he followed before locking the door to the office. "Poppy is out of calming draught and pepperup potion, and she believes it to be of vital importance to stock up on both tonight. Idiotic, if they would ask me, but unfortunately no one ever does. So lab work it is."
Robin only groaned under her breath and rolled her eyes while her feet carried her towards the lab on autopilot already, with Snape following right behind her. So much for excitement… making both potions and having them ready for delivery would take hours! But it was their job after all. Actually, it was his job and she just couldn't be bothered to stop doing it together with him.
"I hope she at least knows that she owes you for making us do this on a bloody Saturday night." Robin sighed when she finally dropped her backpack in its usual corner in the lab, then pulled her wand out of her sleeve, put her hair up into a messy knot, and finally rolled up her sleeves all in the usual practiced movements. When her eyes lifted from her arms up to Snape however, to see why he wasn't answering, she found him still standing with his back to the closed door, observing her in rapt serenity. The sight sent a pleasant shiver down her spine, but she refused to let it distract her from the task at hand as she moved towards the tables to set up for the impending work. "If you just keep standing there like a pillar of salt we'll never get this done, you know… And I was actually kinda hoping we would get to continue with whatever plans you've made once we're done here."
"We certainly will." He finally replied as he snapped out of his freeze, lips curling into a not-smirk while he mirrored her actions and rolled up his sleeves as well. He had started doing that more often ever since summer, whenever they had practical work to do in the safe solitude of the lab, and Robin felt a certain pride in the knowledge that he was comfortable enough around her by now to do so. Now was no different, and she smiled to herself as she was about to get started.
"Which one would you like me to make?" She asked while he was still setting up next to her. "Any preference?"
"Your pick."
"Again? You're being suspiciously gracious today, and I'm not sure if I want to know why… I'm not dying again, am I?" She sent him a small smirk, but went straight on. "I'll do the calming draught then. Pepperup always makes me sneeze like crazy."
"I know. It is ironic, really."
"Very funny, yes, absolutely hilarious." She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, but smiled nonetheless as she got started picking out the ingredients. For these kinds of potions, the infirmary's stock and all the ones taught in class, she had long passed the point of needing instructions at all.
The brewing was a running routine by now, and even if Robin had been hoping for a different pastime for tonight, she still found herself enjoying the work as always. It wasn't the most interesting thing to make standard type potions, admittedly, but just working in the lab together with Snape never failed to be a delight in its own right. Before long they were at the point of simply having to wait while the potions simmered quietly in their cauldrons, and while Robin went to write the labels, Snape started grading the notebooks he had brought. Occasionally he grumbled to himself about whatever idiotic thing some student had written in their essay this time, and Robin always found herself amused by his annoyance. There was little else to do than listening to his remarks after all, seeing as writing labels was a repetitive process she might as well have charmed her quill to do by itself. But then she would be left without anything to do at all, and that wouldn't be an improvement either. Thus she just dipped her quill into the inkwell once more with a silent sigh, when suddenly the comfortable calm of the lab was disturbed by a harsh and repeated knocking on the door. That almost never happened.
Robin jumped a little, but stayed sitting on her stool while Snape grumbled to himself again and went to snap at whoever was bothering them with tangible annoyance radiating off him in an invisible cloud. The very second Robin lifted her gaze from the labels to him however, by chance more than intentionally, something in her mind clicked together at the sight of him almost having reached the door. Without a second thought she dropped the quill and bolted, barely still barging in between Snape and the door before he could open it. Her momentum had her back crashing against the wood in a loud rattle, and she found herself once again standing chest to chest with him, trying to catch her breath as she looked up with wide eyes. His scowl had disappeared entirely, only to be replaced by genuinely shocked surprise. Bloody hell, his face was so close to her own… not even a breath away now. A second passed in silence, and her eyes flickered down to his lips ever so briefly, but she just couldn't help it. Her heart skipped a beat, adrenaline running through her veins like sweetest poison, and she finally remembered why she had brought herself into this situation in the first place.
He still looked like a deer in the headlights when Robin wrapped a reluctant hand around his forearm, then dropped her gaze down to the minimal space between them entirely as she carefully rolled his sleeves down again. It took him a few seconds to catch on to her gesture, but then he helped her by closing a few of the buttons at least before repeating the process on the other side himself at a much faster pace. The entire moment didn't last longer than a few seconds, even though it seemed to span enteritis in Robin's mind, and once the task was accomplished, Snape took a step backwards for Robin to move away from the door to allow him to open up at last.
Bloody hell… Robin's heart was still jumping out of her chest, and her insides had liquified entirely as she went to sit back down on her stool. That had been a very close call on two ends, and she took deep breaths to regain some composure at least while resting her forearms on the tabletop. The area where she had dropped the quill was covered in tiny black speckles, as were her forearms, but for some miraculous reason the labels had been spared at least. Good… things were good. Slowly her heartbeat calmed down to a normal pace again, and her brain started working like it ought to as well. When she finally was in a place of mind to pay attention to what was happening at the door, it was thrown shut already though, and Snape returned to his place next to her at the table in silence.
"What was that about?" She asked as calmly as she could, studying how the frown stayed on his face even as he was sitting down next to her again.
"Nothing of importance." He answered quickly, but then sighed as he seemed to think better of it. They were past the point of only sharing important things with each other… long past it, actually. "Pomona informed me that she would like to keep a small group of fifth years in the greenhouse after curfew tomorrow evening and I gave my approval."
"Ah." Robin replied under her breath, but didn't know what else to say on the issue and thus merely let her gaze drop to the labels again, without picking up the quill though. For a few seconds it was quiet, but she could tell by the tension surrounding them that he wanted to say something, and she would give him all the time he needed to do so. Pushing him never worked in her favour anyway, but giving him space usually did.
"Thank you. For keeping an eye on me." He finally started, in a calm tone now but still with a frown on his face. "Such carelessness on my part has never happened before, and it certainly will not be happening again."
"You were caught up in your thoughts, that happens to everyone at some point. It's not worth being upset over now. And of course I'm keeping an eye on you! It's what we always do, both of us. You know that." She returned a soft smile, reassuring and calm and affectionate in that way that was only reserved for him. "I'm just sorry I jumped at you like a maniac."
It took a few seconds, but then his frown loosened up slowly and the not-smirk returned to his lips. "I didn't mind that, actually."
Robin's smile turned into a smirk as well, and then she just had to laugh. "Of course you didn't… You're insufferable, you know?"
"That would be my line."
"Well, I'm stealing it now. We're both insufferable, that's just the way things are." She said with a nonchalant shrug, turning back to pick up her quill and write her labels with a lingering smirk now, and out of the corners of her eyes, she could see that the same expression was gracing his features as well, as he went to continue grading the essays.
They finished their work in the usual calm contentment, first the grading and the labels –while occasional mocking some dunderhead students– before finally bottling the finished potions. It was shortly before midnight when they were done at last, when the bottles were neatly boxed up to be delivered. They spontaneously decided that Robin would be the one to take them to the infirmary, while Snape wanted to clean up the lab and return the notebooks to the office. Moments later she was as good as gone, carefully balancing four smaller cardboard boxes in her arms as she quickly made her way through the dark castle and towards the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was delighted as always when Robin staggered through the heavy doors in an attempt not to drop everything, and whispered many thanks while helping her sort the boxes into the storage shelves. Robin took note of the fact that by now the entire stock had her handwriting on it indeed, and it probably had been that way for a while. She smiled at the realisation, not without a certain sense of pride, and after bidding the matron goodnight, she was leaving again already.
On her way back down to the dungeons though, Robin almost ran into Morgan, who obviously was assigned to patrol the castle tonight. She was just rounding a corner when he suddenly stood right in front of her, but he was luckily looking into the other direction, which gave her enough time to jump back around the corner and hide away in one of the darkest alcoves. Thank heaven or hell for her by now decent ability to move silently, which she had somehow made a habit of practicing ever since she started spending every night in the lab or the office. Over the years she had gotten quite good at it, not as good as Snape obviously, but good enough for Morgan to walk past her now without having noticed her presence. Thank God… Only once she couldn't hear his doorstep anymore, she finally dared to move out of her alcove and continue her way down to the dungeons almost in a run. She really wasn't up for another nightly encounter with Morgan, especially not if he was actually patrolling the castle tonight. She would just have to be careful, and keep an eye on her surroundings.
And yet, just when she hasted along the last hallway in the dungeons before finally being back at the office, she made the mistake of looking back over her shoulder when rounding the last corner and promptly ran into the familiar wall of black. It had been a while since that had last happened, and this time, instead of letting her tumble down to the floor in her immediate loss of balance, his arm was around her waist in an instant, keeping her upright and securely on her feet. At first Robin let out a startled yelp, but after the second it took her brain to register that she knew that arm around her as well as the scent that was overwhelming her senses now, she didn't even need to look at Snape for her body to relax already.
"Didn't we say we would meet at the office?" She finally asked, barely above a whisper but with a smile in relief and a scowl in feigned complaint nonetheless. His arm disappeared from around her, unfortunately, and he took a step backwards to inspect her with a curious frown.
"We did, but you were taking longer than expected, which usually means that either something or someone has happened to you. I merely wanted to see if you were alright." He said in a quiet tone, glancing down the dark hallway that stretched into blackness behind Robin.
"I'm good… but only barely." She sighed, and his eyes found hers again within a second. "I almost ran into Morgan, he's patrolling tonight. Had to hide for a while until he was gone."
"That would explain the delay. I take it then that he didn't see you?"
"No, he walked right past me. But knowing him, that might just have been part of his game. So I was somewhere between panicking and in a haste to get back here."
"Understandable. Let's see to it that we stay out of his way." He said, then the subtle not-smirk returned to his lips. "We still have plans for tonight after all, and I don't want him, or anyone else for that matter, to interrupt those yet again."
Robin's heart skipped a beat upon his words, and once again the anxiety was making way for suspense and excitement. But at the same time, the spark of amusement in his eyes made her smirk in return. "Since you refuse to tell me what we will be doing, you'll have to lead the way. If you don't wanna stand in the hallway all night, that is."
With an exaggerated eye rolling but the same not-smirk, he motioned for her to come along, stopping again a few more steps down the path to retrieve Robin's backpack from the office first, but much to her surprise they then continued on to make their way through the dark hallways until at last they arrived in front of his rooms. Her heart skipped yet another beat, and she tried not to grin like an idiot while he unlocked the door and then let her go in first. This was an interesting development of things… one she certainly didn't mind in the least. She'd been wondering ever since Thursday night when she would get to come back here, but she honestly hadn't expected that moment to arrive so soon. With the biggest smile on her face she dropped down on the sofa and watched him light up the fireplace before taking off his robes and coat and neatly folding both pieces over a chair. It left him in that linen shirt he had also been wearing on Thursday night when she'd come here unannounced, and when he went to roll up the sleeves of that now again, Robin couldn't help but watch in amazement. At some point that gesture had become ridiculously attractive, just like the whole act of him taking off the many layers of black, and she didn't know if it was the gesture itself that had her marvelling or the level of comfort it represented. Both, probably. Her heart was soaring either way.
"You sit there like you have been summoned to the headmaster's office." He finally said, in a taunting voice, while moving about in search of something. "You've never been shy in a space of mine before, so just get comfortable already, will you?"
"If you insist." She chuckled, and toed off her boots first before crossing her legs on the sofa, when suddenly an idea struck her that made her smirk again. Placing her bag in her lap, she first dug out the bottle of firewhisky and set it down next to her, then went to dig deeper. So deep, in fact, that she finally had to stick her head in too, to find what she was looking for. The sofa next to her dipped down, she heard glass rattling, and finally her hand touched what she was looking for. With a victorious smile, she pulled out one item after the other, and set them all down on the ground beneath her before finally surfacing out of the bag again and putting it aside. She was met with Snape's undoubtedly humoured and slightly defeated expression.
"Of course you have a record player in your bag… Why am I even surprised at this point." He sighed to himself, while Robin went to kneel down on the floor to set the whole thing up.
"You like Queen, don't you?" She grinned up at him, but picked out the according record anyway, without waiting for an answer. Half a minute later the music started floating around them at a moderate volume, even though Robin was rather sure that there were multiple silencing charms placed on the room. Still didn't mean it was necessary that they'd have to shout over the music to talk. Then she moved the entire setup to the nearest wall, thus out of the way, and finally sat down on the sofa again, with her legs crossed like before. "There, now you've got proof that I'm comfortable enough to seize the silence. Better now?"
"Indeed." He nodded, while handing Robin an empty glass. "Even though half of the school would likely consider it a sacrilege to play muggle music inside the castle."
"Oh come on, you can't honestly tell me that they wrote their music without the help of magic!" She grinned in return and traced the edges of the glass with her fingertips. "Besides, I don't remotely care about anyone's opinion on my taste in music. Well, actually I do care about your opinion on mostly everything… Do you mind muggle music?"
"No. I only mind bad music."
"See! Can't argue with good taste." Robin shrugged with a smirk. "Talking about taste, what's with the empty glass?"
"I thought we would continue our experiments from earlier today." The smirk was on his face in an instant, fully mirroring hers for once, even if with a touch more mischief to it. "I have a few more liquors I would like you to try. If by the end of it you still choose to go with firewhisky, I won't lose another word of complaint."
"Alright, sounds fair enough. But you gotta try them with me, yes?"
He held up his own glass while quirking an eyebrow at her in reply, then summoned the first bottle from one of the shelves. Robin couldn't help grinning to herself, then down at her glass. This was going to be a very interesting night, no matter what happened from here on, that much at least was for sure. And quite honestly, she already couldn't wait for whatever was to come.
______________________________
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pirate king (46) || atz
At that one word, everything in your mind evaporates.
Gunho?
You don’t know how many times you feel like your brain has been reduced to a weak, steaming pile of mush, but you’re very sure about this, just one more bombshell dropped on you and you might as well just slip into a comatose state for the rest of your life.
You’re familiar with the word, most of all from Yunho’s lips. The lookout speaks of old tales about his brother nearly every day, recalling fond stories about their time in the arena, how their brotherhood blossomed, especially so in the bleakness of the arena. You’re well versed with the tales of how the two of them had looked out for each other, watched each other’s backs, grown up to become comrades and best friends.
In the rigging, you had listened to him recall days of training and fighting as the three of you, you, Yunho and Wooyoung, had worked to raise and adjust the sails together. When the wind was constant and the weather was good, all of you would sit in the ropes and listen to Yunho talk. You had not much past to speak of and Wooyoung steered clear of speaking about any history of his, thus his tales entertained the two of you greatly and helped to pass the time. You didn’t mind, the lookout was a good speaker, peppering his stories with funny anecdotes and often poor attempts at acting which always brightened your mood.
But behind every happy tale, there had been a lingering sadness in Yunho’s eyes, a pained smile to the end of every story, an unspoken, sad conclusion to what should have been a beautiful chronicle of brotherly kinship.
Gunho’s death had weighed heavily on Yunho’s mind, you know, from the way his eyes sadden minutely every time you bring him up on accident. Yunho prefers remembering the happy, good times with his brother, when the two of them had been together, but the thought of his brother always brings up a single fact that he can never ignore.
He had been too late to save his brother.
It’d been like a bitter pill for Yunho, hard to swallow and even harder to accept but he’s done it already, biting back his tears to face the big, wide world with a positive, cheerful smile. He’s supposed to have moved on already, putting the past behind him as he continues to move forward… but you doubt that he would have expected for his past to be dredged up again once more, upturning everything he had once believed.
Gunho is alive.
It’s as if time stands still for a moment as the once hooded man straightens up to stare at Yunho in surprise, sword nearly falling from his grip from the shock of seeing his older brother after so long. Deep brown meets deep brown as the two of them simply take in the appearance of the other, as if they can’t really believe that fate was kind enough to let them cross paths once again in this lifetime.
You’re almost ecstatic for Yunho, knowing that this must be the most heartwarming reunion that you’ll ever have the luck to witness. A grin pulls widely at your face as you turn to look at Yunho, who’s simply gazing upon his brother in disbelief. Slowly, you see him blink, once, twice, as if trying to prove to himself that this really isn’t a dream, before his jaw clenches and you see a single tear spill over his eyelashes and down to his cheek.
“Gunho… you’re alive?” Yunho chokes out, voice overcome with emotion and the brown haired man looks as if he’s been snapped out of some sort of daze. A blinding, dazzling smile of sheer joy spreads over his face as tears rolls down his own cheeks.
“Brother, I’ve been searching for you so long!”
Hesitantly, Yunho looks over to his captain, who looks just as stunned as everyone else on board is. Then he nods, slowly, and Yunho is stepping forward slowly, as if still in a daze. Gunho throws his longsword to the side in his excitement and runs straight into his brother’s arms, embracing him tightly.
The moment the two of them meet, the entire crew seems to heave a sigh of relief. There is no one on this ship who doesn’t know exactly how dear Gunho was to Yunho, or how much Yunho regrets not being able to save his younger brother from that godforsaken arena. But now, even if it had to be through this terrible meeting with the Royal Navy, Yunho can be reunited with Gunho.
Something warm blooms in your heart as you watch the two of them hug, squeezing the life out of each other.
“I can’t believe you’re alive.” Yunho sobs into his brother’s shoulder, now that you see them side by side, Gunho is shorter than Yunho, more stocky and built as compared to Yunho’s taller and longer stature. Gunho nods, one hand reaching to pat his brother on the back reassuringly as his other reaches to his belt.
And something sinks in your chest.
“I missed you so much.” Gunho rests his head on his brother’s, voice soft and soothing, rocking Yunho back and forth gently as Yunho continues to cry, shaking his head and mumbling incoherent apologies into Gunho’s shirt. “I really do love you… brother.”
What happens next is almost too fast for you to see.
You don’t think anyone could have expected it, really. Not a single person on the ship could have possibly even guessed in the slightest that this was coming. Even though it happened right in front of your eyes, you merely stood there in shock and watched as everything seemed to fall apart in that one split second, unable to move, mind incapable of processing the events that had just happened.
One blink of an eye, the two brothers are embracing.
In the next, Yunho is crumpled on the deck, blood gushing from his side.
For a moment, no one moves.
Incomprehension.
Shock.
Disbelief.
What?
It’s a razor sharp knife, the steel drenched in dark red blood. Your eyes, wide with terror, follow the weapon as Gunho merely raises the blade to his mouth, licking the blood off the knife while he looks upon his brother writhing on the ground with what you can only describe sick, twisted amusement.
“Oh? I didn’t think you’d be on guard enough to react so quickly around me. And here I thought you were glad to see me again, brother.” Gunho merely sighs as if disappointed, shaking his head as his tongue darts out to catch a little smear of blood at the corner of his serene smile. “But then again among of the two of us, you were always the lucky one, weren’t you?”
Yunho chokes in pain, a muffled scream ripping from his throat as he curls into a ball, crimson spilling over his fingers and staining the deck red with his blood.
His brother turns around, facing Commander Kang as your brain tries to understand what has just happened, but it’s failing miserably. “Let’s go, Commander.”
Nothing makes sense to you, you manage to think blankly to yourself, as the world pitches and rolls around you. Absolutely nothing. But one thing you do know, that you’ve been trained to do ever since you stepped onto this ship, is to treat the wounded, and you know that Yunho is going to die if you don’t get to him as fast as possible.
But you’re terrified. Your master isn’t here, he’s in the captain’s cabin, together with Mingi, there is no time for you to call him, and you will be utterly alone. There will be no one to instruct you, to make choices for you, to share the responsibility with you.
If Yunho dies...
For a moment, you so desperately just want to stay rooted to the spot in fear. But you do know that every second you think, Yunho’s life drains away little by little, and with a curse, you throw all rational thinking to the wind. Hurrying forward, you tear your outer shirt from your shoulder, kneeling at Yunho’s side as you inspect the wound as fast as possible, trying to remember everything your master has taught you through the haze of panic.
The second you spring into action, your captain moves too, pulling his musket from his belt as he takes aim at Gunho, eyes narrowed with blazing fury.
But Gunho doesn’t seem intimidated in the least, simply smiling amicably and sliding the knife back into the belt as if he hasn’t just stabbed one of your crewmates in the gut in an attempt to kill him. Hongjoong’s fingers tighten on the trigger.
The crew too, begin to stir into movement, raising their weapons to fight, but then one voice cuts through the noise.
“Hongjoong, no!”
Only his true name, shouted so desperately by one of his closest friends, could have any chance of stopping your captain in the blind rage he is in. His green eye is clouded over with pure, undiluted wrath, the usual flames in his gaze fanned to a blazing inferno. Normally, you realise, no one would have a chance against him when he’s like this.
But then, it’s Yunho telling your captain to stop. Yunho, who’s just been stabbed by his long lost brother, one who he had once thought the world of. Yunho, bleeding out and dying next to you.
He can’t bring himself to kill his younger brother.
And because it’s Yunho who tells him to stop, Hongjoong does. But you can see every muscle in his body just screaming to pull the trigger, but he holds steady, the barrel of his musket trained at Gunho’s head.
“Why did you do that?” Hongjoong snaps, his voice somehow ice cold yet burning with rage, every syllable is ringing with fury. Gunho merely shrugs, a cheerful, remorseless grin on his face that honestly is starting to look a little deranged to you.
“Just a little siblings’ spat, captain. Nothing too much to worry about.”
Breathing, you recall, your eyes snapping to Yunho’s face as you check him over. He’s panting, gasping from the pain as his fingers press against his wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. There are tears of agony in his eyes and you start ripping your overshirt into strips, pressing your makeshift padding against Yunho’s wound.
At the pressure, Yunho cries out in agony, the sound tearing at your heartstrings. You try your best to ignore the sound of one of your best friends sobbing right next to your ear, but each cry is so heart wrenching you wish you could just cut off your own ears to stop the heartrending sound. With Yeosang, it was a lot easier to just treat his wounds as he was nearly unconscious from blood loss, but with Yunho writhing around screaming in anguish right next to you as you press down hard on his wound?
No amount of training with San could have prepared you for this.
You glance upwards, seeing Seonghwa drop from the ropes and sprint across the deck to your side, crouching next to you as he takes in his friend’s ashen face. Heart racing in your chest, you take one look at the wound and you know simply stemming the bleeding with your pathetic replacement of actual bandages isn’t going to be enough. Making up your mind as fast as you can, you turn to Seonghwa. “Tell San to get here as fast as he can and grab my healer’s bag from the sickbay.”
The cook doesn’t even bother giving a nod in response, pushing through the crowd on the deck and racing to the cabin. A second later, your master bursts out of the door, face white with horror as he catches sight of Yunho on the ground. Then he’s by your side, checking Yunho’s breathing and pulse as his critical eyes rake across the wound.
“Stab wound, about two and a half inches wide. Serrated on one edge, and deep, but likely to have missed all his vitals organs.” San rattles off as he moves to inspect the wound more carefully. “Pulse is weak, but the blood isn’t pumping out, which means it luckily didn’t hit an artery. But he seems to be in too much pain for a wound this size…”
Then his face turns ashen in realisation and he leans in to sniff the wound, before his eyes widen with horror. You feel your heart drop in your chest at your master’s expression.
“The wound is poisoned.”
Your captain hears San’s words over the din and all of a sudden, you feel every hair stand on the end at the sheer anger that’s rolling off your captain in waves. Hongjoong’s fury almost seems like it’s on the verge of setting the very environment around him ablaze, every survival instinct screaming for you to get up and run away from him as fast as you can.
“Where is the antidote?” Hongjoong snarls, grip tightening on his gun, but your heart sinks at the words. Somehow, deep in you, you can already guess where it is. Gunho merely laughs like a tinkling bell, tilting his head to one side as he grins at your incensed captain with an innocent smile that might just be the most terrifying thing you’ve ever seen.
“Why you got to be so serious about this, captain? The antidote isn’t with me right now.” Gunho sighs, shaking his head as Commander Kang steps towards the rowboat they had come from, followed by the guards. At the bulwarks, he turns to smile at his brother one last time. “I hope you live, brother. It’ll be a lot more fun killing you slowly that way.”
You can’t help but stare at the younger Jeong brother in shock as he simply turns around and steps off the ship, not the least bit concerned about the muskets all trained at his back. Commander Kang eyes all of you coldly from the rowboat.
“Meet us on the Cayman Islands when you’re ready and bring along the four parts of the deal. The antidote will be there. Harm us in any way and the deal is off. I expect to see you there soon, captain.”
With that, they simply lower themselves to the sea, disappearing from your sight.
You now know why they had the audacity to step aboard this ship even though they were so vastly outnumbered. Your captain can’t possibly kill Commander Kang or Gunho. He needs them alive for answers and to save Yunho’s life. And it seems like such a cruel joke, that you and the crew have all been played along like this, like marionettes on a string.
Hongjoong screams in fury, his fingers tightening so hard on the musket that his fingers go white.
Why? What does the Royal Navy want with you?
Two months ago, on the sea witch’s island, you had chosen to give up your memories. Two months ago, you had decided to walk down the path with your crew mates and family instead, leaving your history behind you as you started on this new journey.
But now?
It seems like that elusive past is finally begin to surface, bringing with it all sorts of dangers and darkness that you hadn’t once thought existed.
And you're terrified at what is to come.
#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez fanfiction#hongjoong#seonghwa#yunho#yeosang#san#mingi#wooyoung#jongho#ateez pirate king#w; ot8#w; fanfiction#w; pirate king
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Bella Goth (all as well!)
Which one, my fake (the clone) or the real one? I'll just answer for both (and will regret this not even halfway through).
❤️: OTP
Of course I ship Bella with Mortimer. That's not even a question.
For fake!Bella, I think she's a free spirit. She needs to find herself before she can ever settle down. For now, I don't see her with anyone.
💔: No OTP
Um, anyone but Mortimer? But that's not true. I've seen her with Pascal and liked that. I don't think I have a NOTP for her...
Anyone who clips her wings.
🌈: Sexuality
Bella is straight, maybe bi-curious?
Fake!Bella is bi.
😊: Friends
Morty, of course, and the rest of her family. Bella is everyone's friend. You may have met her just two minutes ago, but she behaves just like you've already known her for years.
Fake!Bella befriends Erin pretty early on and they're as thick as thieves. She's also one of the few sims who really just... gets Nervous.
💀: Enemies or Rival
Bella has this larger than life personality that doesn't hate anyone. Or at least, you won't notice if she hates you. She'll always behave just as amicable as if she likes you. Dina was one of the only people who could see behind that facade and it drove Bella nuts.
The Beakers, no doubt. They'd love to get their hands on the clone, and while fake!Bella may not realise this, she senses that something is way off about them!
🐶: Pet or favorite Animal
Bella comes from a long line of witches. She is a cat person, 100%. But like... those ridiculously fancy, naked cats. They're just as high-maintenance as she is.
Fake!Bella has a pet lizard back at the gas station she sleeps at. She's named him Ziggy.
🌷: Flowers or plants they like
Roses!
Have you ever seen a blooming cactus? They're kind of pretty...
☀️: Favourite Season
Winter, when everyone gathers together and all of the big functions are held.
Anything but summer.
🌧️: Favourite Weather
That's easy! Sunny weather for both!
🕯️: Favourite Aromatic candle
Bella is a big fan of exotic flowers. Mix them with anything that creates an interesting smell (like herbs, sea salt or something) and she's all over it.
Fake!Bella likes it simple, in contrast. Lavender is nice.
🥘: Favourite Food
There's nothing better than a homemade barbeque with burgers for Bella. They had an old grill they got out of storage a few times of the year and did a small family barbeque. Bella manned the grill (because Mortimer burns everything he touches). Michael and Dina used to bring salads (Bella would never admit it, but Dina's salad was actually quite tasty) and the kids played in the graveyard. There aren't as many family barbeques nowadays...
Fake!Bella is not too picky. Anything that fills her up is fine with her. Whenever she's got some money, she heads over to the diner. Their burgers are good.
☕: Favourite Drink
Officially, champagne. Inofficial, Bella is fuelled by coffee.
Tap water. If she ever had coffee, she'd be all over it, too.
🍦: Ice-cream Flavour
Something simple, yet elegant, like Straciatella. Bella loves the little chocolate bits in it.
Chocolate.
🍕: Pizza Topping
Bella and Mortimer used to get salami pizza every Friday back when they were in high school. She's been craving it lately.
Once again, Fake!Bella is not picky. She's heard that pineapple pizza is a crime against pizza, though and steers clear from it.
🍟: Snack
Bella's favourite snack is frozen grapes. Very refreshing and sweet.
Fake!Bella's favourite snack is chips. Every flavour is fine, but the more savoury, the better.
🍿: Movies they like to watch
Bella is really into those old-school Hollywood movies. Movies like that just aren't made anymore...
Whatever's running on tv. Fake!Bella has a soft spot for those lifetime-esque movies though, where long lost family members are reunited and everyone gets a happy ending.
📺: TV Show they like to watch
Don't tell anyone, but Bella loves telenovelas. They are her guilty pleasure.
Fake!Bella has been watching soap opera reruns religiously lately. Erin showed her how to use SimTube, and she's been spending all her free time watching them. She's on Episode 2751 of "Days of the Cowplant" already!
🎵: Music they listen to
Classical music. Maybe a bit jazz, if Bella's feeling fancy.
Fake!Bella hasn't heard anything but the type of elevator music they play at the gas station yet, but she's pretty sure that that's not it.
⚽: Sport they like or play
Golf.
Fake!Bella goes running sometimes. Just runs as far as possible. Until her lungs burn and she can't remember anything. It's freeing.
📚: Books they like to read
There's a library of classics in the Goth library and Bella has read most of them.
Fake!Bella has found a tattered copy of "The Great Simsby" behind the trash cans of the community pool one day and for some reason, it spoke to her...
🕹️: Video Games they like or Play
Bella doesn't do video games.
You can find fake!Bella at the arcades on a good day. She likes anything that has jumping and running. And she loves rhythm games!
🎻: Musical instrument
Bella knows how to play the piano and usually plays it to entertain guests.
Nothing yet. Maybe synthesizer?
🎨: Favourite Colour
Her signature colour, red!
Red, even though she feels like a fraud for wearing it...
👠: Shoes they like
Fancy high heels. Bella has ruined her feet years ago but she doesn't care. She loves how powerful and sexy she looks in it.
Sensible shoes. Who needs uncomfortable shoes, fake!Bella thinks.
👕: Clothing style
Fancy, elegant, yet understated.
Anything that she can find in the dumpster behind the clothing store. She makes sure to look put together, though. It's an urge she can't help.
👜: What’s always on their bag
Her lipstick. And a good book. Always carry a good book with you and you'll always be in good company.
A few coins, if she needs to buy stuff.
📰: Section of the Newspaper they read
The society section.
The celebrity section.
💻: Website they visit the most
Bella spends a lot of time on various fundraiser sites to look for a good cause to sponsor and fundraise for.
whoisbellagoth.com
📱: Social media they use the most
Bella doesn't really use social media. She'd rather spend time with her family and friends in person.
Fake!Bella is addicted to SimTube. Not only for her daily dose of soap but also for conspiracy videos about aliens and the Elixir of Life.
📗: Favourite School Subject
Economics and Biology. Morty may be the genius in their family, but she was no ditz either!
Fake!Bella never went to school. But if, she would have been be super into P.E.
📕: Less Favourite School Subject
P.E. She wasn't bad at it, but she hated getting sweaty.
Maths. Her brain's wired weirdly and she just can't wrap her head even around simple maths. She usually just tosses money on the counter and hopes it's enough.
🎓: University they attended (or not)
Bella attended ALT, of course. She was in a long-distance relationship for all of it, as Morty attended LFT.
Fake!Bella was never college-aged.
🎒: University Major
Economics. It surprises a lot of people, but it really suited her. She has a mind for business. In another life, maybe...
I think that Fake!Bella would have ended up in philosophy due to being unable to decide which major to choose.
🔮: Something Random
Sometimes, Bella wonders what would happen if she were to disappear. Would her family be fine, or would they struggle without her? Of course, she wants them to be happy, but a not so nice small part of her wishes that they'd have trouble to move on...
Fake!Bella sometimes has random flashes of... she's not sure what she sees, but it makes her sad... a small girl with pigtails, a big house, a man holding a baby...
Phew! Thanks for playing, anon!
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The plastic square utensil vibrated in my pocket. It was my agent.
“Lestat, This is your agent Laurent. I would need your signature in able for me to finish the transfer to be completed. Would be possible for you to come to our location?” His voice was a little shaky. Why he was trembling? I didn’t like these calls so much and he knew that.
“You can sign these for me, I gave you the authorization.” I simply replied
He then gave a long list to what would happened if it was not me signing it, so I finally agreed. Not that I wanted to go to have this meetings but that transfer needed to be done.
“You know my schedule. I will meet you there in 1 hour” I replied
“Yes, absolutely, I will be there Sir” he said and seemed like he was already rushing.
“Alright, I will see you then” I hang up
Obviously it will only take me five minutes to get there. Flying. Wondering if I could follow him, Just for fun. So I did. I went straight to where he was. Saw him driving with his car on high speed. I jumped from building to building, I could listen to his heart racing and his eyes back and forth checking the electronic clock on the car dashboard. He was late and I could not but smirk thinking about the way he was feeling becasue he thinks I would be disappointed. I was one of the big customer he had, so he always treated me like so. Very important, always attentive and a secret I knew, he liked me. But all that, tonight, was a game for me. I didn’t care on if I was the biggest customer he had or if he was late. I had all night and I thought this was simply fun.
I landed on a dark alley next to the building and walked towards the main door and awaited for him, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed. Sunglasses over my eyes. Staring at him with no expression on my face. Just staring. He saw me and he rushed even more. How much I wanted to smirk, to hold him by his arms and to tell him I knew and I liked him as well but I held it. I just stared at him with my arms crossed.
“Sorry I am later…traffic…here…lets go it, it only will take a minute” he was rushing to open the door and hold it for me.
All was extremely fun but I continued with my cold appearance. I walked into the massive lobby, marveled floors, so shiny one can see itself reflected on it, huge columns of shiny marble. The elevators at the very end of this giant hall. We could only listen our footsteps and me, as vampire, I could hear his heart and see these small drops of sweat on his forehead and face.
I walked beside him and he pushed the button to the elevator. So ridiculous I was doing all this but again I found it extremely entertaining.
The mirrored square box arrived. I looked at mysef on these clean mirrors when the doors closed. I looked at my wavy hair almost white under the fluorescent light, my dark sunglasses, my pale skin on my cheek and hands but nothing extremely white he could suspect anything. My blue wool coat, black pants and shiny boots. Not bad, Not bad at all. Still looking like a dandy Lestat. And my dear agent beside me. No words came from him but I saw him looking at me a couple times, immediately getting his eyes off me when he thought I was looking at him. I could read his mind so easily, he was so impatient to get to the office and get it all done and nervous I was there. Once again, I felt to let it go and laugh and even have a little drink with him but I didn't move.
Finally we have arrived to the 23rd floor. He held the door for me and I gave him a small node to thank him for that and walked pass him. He walked fast in front of me, so he could get ready his keys and open the door for me. My eyes followed him, his hand trembling. Dear God, I was that scary looking? And poor Laurent , if he knew what I really am, he would just run not desiring to look back at me again. That finally made me smile but I doubt he noticed that slight move on my lips. Too small for a mortal to see.
I walked into the dark office hall. So elegant yet cold at the same time. All in greys and blacks. Dark carpet, dark walls but the lights made it all so perfect combined. He told me to follow him to his office and so I did and gestured me to sit down on that modern cold, ugly black leather chair with steel frame.
I looked at his desk. Papers here and there and a pile of magazines and he finally found the paper I needed to sign. Ah finally! Let’s get it done so I can get out of there. He pointed me where I needed to sign, not even daring to look at the paperwork. I trusted him enough to sign without reading what I am signing and as soon as I left the pen on the desk. He told me he was going to make some copies so I could keep one and he could keep the original. But something distracted me. Something I saw on his desk. Something that made me feel a dead cold chill down my spine.
I could not but stare at that image and that name. Over and over like if I was hypnotized, shocked, lost, everything in that room dissipated but that name. Alessandro Visconti. Don’t ask me what or why I felt like that. But I did. That name. I just stared at it holding the paper in my hands. Seated on that uncomfortable chair and my eyes just fixed at that signature.
I’ve heard Lauren coming closer and talking to me, saying the copy was made and giving it to me but I really did not care. I continued staring at that signature.
“What is this?” I asked him so cold, direct and with deep voice. Still with my eyes on that signature. He looked down at what I was looking at.
“Oh! It is one of our customers Sir. A music producer. Very good customer of ours as well Sir” he replied standing on the other side of his desk. The word “music” send me more chills down the spine but I continued so like paralyzed looking at that signature “Have you never heard of him Sir?” he asked me with his most amicable voice “He is very talented producer and composer.”
I felt I needed to leave that place. I needed to feel the air. I needed to go. I was getting upset. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the name, the meaning, the familiar words, the signature. I looked up at my dear fellow agent eyes and I stood up still holding that paper in my hands. He opened his drawer and grabbed a CD.
“Here, his latest album. I am sure you would enjoy it Sir. Give it a listen. You can keep that copy. He always brings me one when he is in town” I stared at Laurent, feeling like I could start with thousand questions about this music producer, and I did not dare to look into Laurent's mind to find any images of this musician. I did not. I would not. No, thousand times no.
I grabbed the CD and I put it in my inside pocket. Surprisingly big enough it fit. I needed to go, I needed to go out. I could not bear to stay in that room anymore and now my mind could not stop thinking on this.
I thanked Lauren for his services and I left. I walked towards the stairs that lead to the roof top. The hell no, I would not take the artificial mirrored box to lift me up or down when I could just fly anywhere I wanted.
I reached the top floor and I unlocked the door with the mind gift. Finally the black sky, the stars, the air, crisp. The night surrounding me. I walked slowly on that roof top, just listening to the city down below me, cars, people, minds… but I could not stop thinking of that name.
I went to the edge of that tall building and I stood there and looked down. People walking on the side walk, cars, street lights changing colors, the shops still open. All alive, the Savage Garden alive and unaware that a monster was looking at them from this tall glass building. And suddenly, I lifted and I went up and up to the stars.
I flew for a long time, with no direction and when I ended up bored of that, I just went home. I was glad no one, no other immortals where around because I did not want to talk to anyone. I needed to be alone. The balcony to my chamber was open, as always, my easy way to get in and out. So I landed there and went in.
The room was warm due to the fireplace. I walked towards my bed and laid there looking at the damask ceiling. The golds and reds. And I remembered again about the name and the CD I was still keeping inside my jacket. I took it off and I looked at it. The cover had man hands on dark background, what it seemed to be wearing damask clothes or rich reds and blacks colors on a thick jacket and a silver ring. A ring that looked like claw engraved with fine lines. So very similar to one I owned 200 years ago and long lost during these nights where I almost perished in hands of my beloved vampire child Claudia. I opened the plastic lid and looked at the shiny CD, seeing my reflection on it but my eyes caught his name again.
After a few moments just looking at the insert picture, I finally stood and went to the shelves where I had a modern audio system. I inserted the CD. The music suddenly started. Classical yet contemporary. One perfectly could hear every instrument on that song. So clear, so perfect. I laid down again and closed my eyes, my hands behind my nape. One song after another I listened with a blank mind. But one song awoke me. It was just a violin. I opened my eyes abruptly.
God knows how many times I have listened someone to play a violin, how many concerts I have assisted but this song, This violin. This…was not what I have usually listened to before but just once. Once so many years ago. Once from someone I have trusted and loved. Once…long long ago. My mind was racing on thoughts and images. I was insane? How could I even think of that? It was a door closed even I still had it all present in my mind. How could I ever think of a possibility? No, can not, No is not. Lestat are you insane?!. Yet a small part of me was torn, hurt, sad, and mad remembering it all.
I grabbed my jacket and I left the room, flying again. I left with the song playing and even I was far away I could still hear it. I felt the cold air on my face and that helped me to feel sane and think clear. But I could not stop now with questions.
Why? Who is this musician? How it’s possible?.....where are you? I asked with no sounds just for me flying around until the sun was almost out.
Returning to my chambers, the music thankfully was done. I could not bare listen to it again. I closed the double thick velvet curtains. And I laid on my bed under the covers. Enough of this, dreams take me to where I can’t think if this anymore. Bring me to a safe place.... and so I felt how the sun was out and my body was more and more limp until there was no more thinking but dreaming...
@monsieur-nicolas-de-lenfent //You have inspired me once again and I wrote this. Could be an epic re encounter or could be just left as it is. Thank you always for inspiring me.
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Contessina de’ Medici ( 1390 - 1473 ): a study of her stars.
Little is truly known about the dates concerning Contessina de Medici’s birth and death, so as a last effort, I resorted to astrology in order to set somewhat of a date to this remarkable Florentine woman who — not only — was wife of Cosimo de’ Medici, but also mother of a dynasty, Lady Consort of Florence ( title created for her before it was passed on ) and whose image is so often disregarded given how she devoted most of her life to caring for her household instead of business or politics. Mind you, keeping an organized home in a time when the Palazzo Vecchio was the center of European Renaissance definitely was no easy task, and even so she managed to exert her influence through marriage and tax negotiations in Florence.
For those who do not know much of astrology, though still are interested in reading, here’s a brief dictionary to what the placements mean:
— sun: the person’s essence, what’s truly wanted by them.
— moon: the inward processes to go about it, what’s truly needed by them.
— rising: how the person presents to others, the style to go in order to achieve things.
— venus: how the person goes about romantic and emotional affairs
— mars: described the person’s relationship with what they are passionate about, not necessarily in the romantic or sexual aspect of it.
MOST LIKELY DATE AND HOUR CONSIDERING ASTRO PLACEMENTS:
5th of July 1390 ( Florence, Tuscany, Italy ; 9 am )
⁕ SUN: CANCER.
One of the most prominent aspects of her personality through the few content available definitely tells Contessina was likely to have Cancer as her reining house. Not only does her essence seems driven by the traits of nurturing and protecting, it’s clear by her family oriented actions ( such as many books report that most of her letters concerned family affairs ).
It’s important to add that while the role of women at that time was to be handling house affairs, that doesn’t necessarily mean all had the same way to go about it, and for her it went with innate ability belonging to her sun.
Another aspect that’s clear is the emotional balance represented by her figure. Not only did she raise Carlo ( Cosimo’s illegitimate son ) instead of neglecting him, but also appeared to be, many times, a tie that bound the family together and kept them grounded. She reminded Cosimo ever so often to be more caring for their sons and took upon herself to help with her grandchildren while Piero and Lucrezia busied themselves with the bank and politics after Cosimo’s death and Piero’s rocky health conditions.
This topic could not go by without mentioning her undying loyalty, the first reason why I had a hunch that she was a Cancerian. She remained faithful to her husband until the very end, even through his exile and when he had a bastard child ( while that wasn’t as scandalous as it is in the present, it definitely could have posed as an unbending wedge in their private life; instead, she cared for Cosimo and his declining health until the very end, as read through her letters at the time ).
Cancers are water masters and, much like it, Contessina made Medici rivers run into her to flow even waters.
⁕ RISING: VIRGO.
In addition to the sun, her rising being in Virgo can clearly be determined by the sentence ‘more concerned with being useful than being recognized’. Virgos have a natural urge for service, to be able to help and in an organized manner, always careful with lists and planning and seeking purpose for those ( though never needing to be acknowledged for it ). Needless to say, that only reinforces the Cancerian traits mentioned above.
Yet, it reveals a fear that was beheld of disease and sickness, and one can grasp that by how Cosimo would often be caught mentioning how Contessina worried about his presumed gout. Many were the letters that she’s caught concerning herself with health issues of her children, daughters-in-law, even during the plague outbreaks.
⁕ MOON: CAPRICORN.
Contessina was reported to be a woman who was quite careful with money, and this moon comes in handy to explain her relationship with that aspect of her life. Let’s not forget her family was fairly rich before the Bardi bank declared bankruptcy due the single unpaid loan by Edward III of England, and that her marriage to Cosimo was solely for financial reasons on her family’s part. Thus, the innate urge to master material resources that comes with the ever so responsible Capri, was definitely boosted by that particular fear of repeating that one past failure ( another Capricorn trait ).
This moon is a stark contrast to her caring and warm Cancerian sun, it shows that one side of her that certainly related to Cosimo and ensured the unmatched success of their family at that time’s period. Both held deeply onto stability and the foundations.
Moreover, a Capri’s self-sufficiency and strength can be found in how Contessina seemed to lead the household mostly on her own even when Ginevra Cavalcanti ( Lorenzo the Elder’s wife ), Lucrezia Tornabuoni and Ginevra Alessandri ( Giovanni di Cosimo’s wife ) joined the family. It’s somewhat clear that the latter two were furthermore engaged in business and politics than Contessina, which they were certainly able to do given how she needn’t much help with her considered duties.
⁕ VENUS: CANCER.
Another easy placement, in my opinion, was to rest her Venus as as Cancer. Reportedly, her marriage to Cosimo was amicable and she was ever patient and a good-listener. Not to mention that Venus in Cancer is welcoming and warm, which certainly were traits that solidified how they appeared to rely on each other and built their trust. That does not mean a Cancerian’s heart is easy, no, but she definitely went all the lengths to mend conflicts and keep her heart into those she held affection for ( that much not only romantically ).
Contessina appeared to be one that gave more than she took through what’s known of her in the present. Another point that’s worth mentioning is that this Venus tends to express their creativity through nurturing, entertaining and decorating. Thus it’s no wonder she kept the family taken care of, managed to set place to all those many events Cosimo held and ensured the place’s beauty.
Her charm’s silent, unspoken.
⁕ MARS: ARIES.
While one might question this placement, Aries in Mars brings that bit of fire that seems to be missing from the rest of the previous placements. Let’s not forget that while she ( most likely ) did not run with a horse inside the Signoria back at the day, Contessina definitely wasn’t a meek personality.
Somewhat, I see her passion being the one to care for others, especially since we know so little of her actual likes and dislikes. And even when she looked after her family, one can see mentions of her “fussings” and her tone in letters eventually turning into small complaints despite how it’s all very subtle, reflecting this part of her that definitely could be more energetic, headstrong and hit the ground running.
( heads up! i do not own the media in this post, the gifset can be found here and the pictures were sought on google and filtered with polarr ).
That’s my astrological look into the main details of Contessina de’ Medici’s personality as read through her letters and mentions in books. Also, my way to come forward and say, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TESSA <3
#contessina de medici#contessina de medici edit#contessina de bardi#contessina de bardi edit#medici#i medici#imedici#medici edit#mediciedit#periodrama#periodramaedit#astrology placements#it's her birthday!!!#cosimo de medici#annabel scholey#medici: masters of florence#medici season 1#masters of florence#medici ambassador#medici ambassadors
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The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 10)
A/n: What, thought I was done with this series. HA NO!! I still have a playlist for this shit and it fuels me. Just, slowly.
Word Count: 5000+
PLAYLIST
Masterlist
"Parents will never admit to this, but they always have a favorite." Jerome looked at Jeremiah as he lounged on his chair. "Right, brother?" Harley felt eyes on him so he looked over, only to look directly in Bruce's eyes. There was something there that spoke to Harley what both boys knew- this wasn't about Bruce. The younger boy seemed to be trying to reason or apologize without words, but Harley just looked away. It was far too late for that bullshit. "The one who cleans their room. Does their homework." Every word was a twist of a knife Harley didn't realize was buried in his chest. He was maybe the one who understood Jerome the most. Maybe that's why they'd gotten this far with each other. "Who doesn't try to kill everybody." Harley smiled. "Little Mr. Perfect here? Yeah. He was that guy. He was adopted by rich folks. Went to the top schools, then a top college." Harley suddenly felt angry. Angry at Jerome's family. At everyone in Jerome's past, in fact. Especially at Jeremiah Valeska. And you know what... at Bruce Wayne too. "Meanwhile, I got dragged through the circus by my depressed, alcoholic mother. Forced to clean up elephant dung every day."
"Who cares?" Someone in the crowd shouted. People began to speak up in agreement.
Harley stepped forward. "Don't interrupt the man!" He hefted his bat and the crowd suddenly went silent.
Jerome looked pleased, but his smile died quickly as he returned to his little rant. Harley moved behind him, running his free hand through Jerome's hair every once in a while. "Do you know how big those things are?" He was completely calm, but in a sort of empty way as his eyes searched out people in the crowd. Harley recognized the plea. For understanding. For pity. For anything. Someone to get him and not judge him and tell him that he was right to be doing what he was doing. Everyone's disapproval didn't stop him, but he yearned for someone to love him and it was so very clear to Harley now more than ever that it upset him. Why were people always so cruel? "But I know something mommy and daddy," Jerome continued. "They never knew. You’re as crazy as I am." Jerome dropped the mic, standing. "It's in your DNA." He turned to Jeremiah, Harley right next to him, still brandishing his bat as he watched Jerome's back. "See, we got the same blood running through us. We are practically identical. You are a killer." He had a knife and he moved close to Jeremiah, obviously trying to put him on edge. "It's in your nature. Stop trying to fight it." He cut Jeremiah's ties and there was a pause. "Take your best shot."
"What?" Harley demanded, turning around. He found his body stiff with panic. Hard to move and respond with. Jeremiah was holding the knife Jerome had been a few seconds before. He went to step forward to stop this, but Jerome held up a hand. Harley looked at Jerome with rage. "Jerome-" Jerome shushed him.
Perhaps the man still could take Harley by surprise.
Jeremiah looked at his brother, his features slowly twisting with more and more anger until he screamed, trying to tackle Jerome to the ground but failing. Jerome giggled as he kicked Jeremiah and Harley frowned. He stepped away, irritated that Jerome hadn't at least cued him in on this part of the plan. At least given him a head's up or something... As he looked away, he noticed Bruce. This time the boy was looking at Jeremiah, his face twisted in pain and anger. Harley rose an eyebrow. He'd seen Bruce be pissed by injustice before, but there wasn't just his sense of right or wrong driving him to these emotions. There was a sort of protectiveness in the way his hands curled into fists. He'd only seen it when someone had gotten a little too rough with Y/n back in the days, or when Selina had been in danger those few times Harley had seen Bruce get protective of her.
What were the odds that Harley wasn't the only Wayne that had a crush of some kind on a Valeska?
From the way he struggled against his ropes, Harley was starting to think they were getting more probable by the second.
Everything was cut short as gun fire went off on the rooftops, diverting Jerome's attention just long enough to be shot in the shoulder by Jim Gordon. Bruce escaped, Jerome's trigger didn't work, and everyone was scattering as a giant blimp began to inch across the sky. Harley moved to Jerome, slinging Jerome's arm around his shoulders. Jerome pulled away though. "What's up?" Harley demanded, desperate to escape in the chaos.
Jerome groaned. "I have an idea. But we need to go up." Harley hesitated but then nodded, both of the men running to a nearby building and up the flight of stairs to the roof. Harley hid just out of sight when Jerome told him to. Jim busted onto the scene moments later and Harley ducked out of sight, moving so he could still see even if he couldn't quite hear. Words, at least. The gun shots he heard clearly. One to Jerome's hand, knocking the phone away. Another to his stomach, and Jerome was falling. Back. Off the ledge and over.
Harley almost threw up. He was stunned, eyes wide as he watched Gordon scramble forward. He only got comfort when he heard talking over the side and saw Jim reach down a hand... Harley rushed forward, hitting the back of Jim's head with the bat he still had. The officer crumbled.
"Gordon?"
Harley leaned over the side to see Jerome barely dangling by a pole. "You idiot." Only now did Harley realize he was crying. He reached down but Jerome just frowned, not taking it. Something then dawned on Harley and the boy paled. "You weren't going to take his hand either, were you?"
Jerome grunted, rolling his eyes. "This is the end of the line for me, Harley."
"No the fuck it isn't," Harley snapped back. "You promised me we'd talk about us later." He shook his hand, offering it again. "You've been driven by hate and loneliness and spite your entire life. You didn't think past that night you killed your mom, did you?” Something changed in Jerome’s face, but Harley was too angry to stop. “You barely tried to hide it, and you made minimal effort to get away with it. Then after, you stayed in Gotham to, what? Destroy your brother?" Harley scoffed. "I'm tired of this Jerome. Damnit, I'm tired of watching people suffer." He sniffed and Jerome's face seemed to relax as he actually listened. "We can kill whoever you want, I don't care. But my brother and your brother have a crush on each other and it's hilarious and I need you here to laugh with me about it, okay?" He choked up. "I need you to rule this stupid town with me. Or to not to. Maybe we could stay lowkey or leave. Maybe we could hide out somewhere and just go missing or fake our deaths and never show our faces again so no one knows we're around to even find us. Maybe..." He shrugged. "You can take me to whatever hell you want to Jerome. Let's blow more things up and kiss over dead bodies. You don't have to ruin your brother just because he ruined you. Or maybe you do. Whatever. Just come back with me, okay? Please." Harley stretched out his hand more and Jerome got a new look on his face.
He took Harley's hand, and Harley hauled him up, struggling only minority. The second he was standing, Harley grabbed his face and kissed him. Jerome hooked his good arm around Harley's waist, keeping them close. "You love me."
Harley held tightly to Jerome, closing his eyes as he tried to let go of the mental image his brain was trying to create of Jerome being flattened on the street below. "More than I even love myself," Harley confirmed. "It's probably why I've stuck around, really."
Jerome hummed. "Our brothers have a thing for each other, huh?"
Harley laughed. He leaned back and Jerome reached up, wiping the tears away. "Maybe we could just let them be." Harley shrugged again, struggling to come up with the words to explain how he was feeling. "If they really do like each other..."
"My brother is as messed up as I am," Jerome warned. "I'm at least fun- he's just manipulative."
Harley nodded. "Then what better way to break them than have them break each other, hm?" Harley nudged him. "And if he does end up being total shit, then we can turn him crazy just like you want to with that gas of yours." Harley sighed. "Just, I don't know, my brother deserves to be happy. He's lost his parents and now his brother and his whole world is on its head and-" he stopped cold, sucking in a sharp breath. "It's his birthday today." The day occurred to him suddenly and he looked up at Jerome, pleading. "Would it be too much to ask for?"
Jerome pursed his lips. "When he hurts him-"
"You can kill him, and I'll help you."
A smile finally grew on Jerome's lips. He knew this was a win-win. Either he was wrong about his brother and they all got somewhat of a happy ending, or he was going to see some actual fun. Either way, it was going to be entertaining. "Fine." He sighed. "We have to get to his little base quick then, though." His smile grew and Harley felt himself get excited.
-
"Hey Handsome."
Jeremiah jumped at the sound of Harley's voice. He went tense, looking around for his brother who usually accompanied the boy in front of him. No sign. "What are you doing here?"
Harley shrugged. He was pretty amicable so Jeremiah calmed even if he didn't totally relax. "I killed Jerome."
That seemed to take Jeremiah by surprise. Understandable. He wanted to doubt Harley, but the boy's expression was open and honest. Even vulnerable, like he was apologizing. "Why?" He asked instead of voicing doubts that were slipping away. Harley was wearing a casual t-shirt and jeans now, different from the little fancy get up he'd been wearing while with Jerome. There was something different about the boy in front of him as well. Something distinctively different than the Harley that had flirted with him a foot away from Jeremiah's brother, who was presumably also Harley's boyfriend.
"He tried to kill Bruce." Harley sighed, leaning against the wall behind him. "We had an agreement that Bruce was untouchable. If he died accidentally because he was being an idiot, fine. But Jerome sought him out specifically. And on his birthday." Harley clicked his tongue, shaking his head back and forth. "Bruce can hate me. He has every right to. But he's still my younger brother." He looked away. "He means everything to me, you know. We used to be best friends." He smiled softly but then looked back at Jeremiah, clearing his throat. "Sorry. I'm sure you're not wanting to hear that after I've told you your own brother is dead."
"No,"Jeremiah reassured. "It's actually quite a relief." Harley nodded as if he understood. "Wait but why did you come here? Just to...tell me that?" Harley held up a purple package with a huge silver ribbon. Only then did Jeremiah realize the boy had been holding it at all. "And what's that?"
"Jerome came up with a gas. Had Scarecrow make it himself. Kind of like fear gas, but it makes you..." Harley tilted his head back and forth as he searched for the word. "More like Jerome, to put it nicely. Unhinged." Jeremiah stepped back from the box, curling into himself. "I didn't want his plan to succeed, so I'm here to step in."
Jeremiah looked at Harley, confused again. "Why would you care what happened to me?"
A smile rose to Harley's face, soft and rather attractive. Jeremiah had already come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to Harley Quinn. He was also attracted to Bruce Wayne, so maybe it was just that the Wayne bloodline produced very good looking men. Whatever it was, Harley seemed much more welcoming and friendly now compared to his flirting the last time they'd had an extended conversation. One where Harley had stood up for Jerome and seemed to hate Jeremiah. One that had left an impression to someone who was quite opposite of the man standing in front of Jeremiah now. "I see the way my brother looks at you."
Jeremiah felt his heart pick up. "You- what?"
Harley giggled. "I don't think even he knows yet, but he does have some feeling toward you. I figure he's lost enough people. Had far too many opportunities for something he deserved pass him by. He's sacrificed enough." Harley stepped forward, closer to Jeremiah. "I guess I want to get you guys together. Maybe one relationship between a Valeska and Wayne can actually work out." Harley's smile was strained here and Jeremiah felt pity for the boy. "So what do you say? You couldn't tell him I was around, of course, but I'm sure you'd do a lot better with a bit of help."
Excitement rose up in Jeremiah's features. "You can stay here if you want. I have a free room I could make into somewhere you can sleep."
Harley grinned. "How sweet. I actually would appreciate that, if you don't mind." He stepped away. "I have to dispose of this, but... you know, I think we're gonna be good friends." He nodded in a silent farewell and Jeremiah smiled in return. Harley found his way out himself. Jeremiah didn't think anything of it as he was far too excited thinking about the possibility that Bruce Wayne could return his feelings on any level, as well as the possibility of having a real guy friend his age. Ecco was cool, but branching out a bit wouldn't hurt.
It took five minutes for Harley to find his way out. He skipped to the waiting car then got in the driver's seat, starting it up and taking off. Jerome grinned from the passenger seat. "How is it that you got around without that little blonde girl following you?"
Harley scoffed cockily. "If you and him think the same, then I can just as easily figure out that maze of his as you can. The same way I assume Ecco has it down as well. She knows Jeremiah like the back of her hand. The same way that I know you." He shot a wink at Jerome who smirked, leaning back in his seat.
"So you're my little secret weapon, eh?"
Harley giggled as he pulled to a stop at the building they'd been hiding out in since escaping Arkham. "Something like that."
Jerome leaned over, catching Harley's chin in his fingers, and then Harley's lips with his own. The kiss was slow and deep and purposeful, and it made all of Harley's insides light on fire. "You know, I love you too." Harley's head was spinning and he couldn't wrap his mind around that kiss let alone the words that had followed it. Jerome had never kissed him like that.
"What a joker," Harley croaked. It had become a bit of a running gag to call Jerome that. "Cute but totally rude."
Jerome's hold on Harley's face tightened. He looked angry. Maybe Harley had offended him. But how could he have? “You know Harley, I show you every time I've been genuine. You've seen me afraid. You've seen me sad. You've seen me confused. You've seen me have many other emotions beside just amusement and anger which is what most people see. You've seen me about to jump off a building and end it all for god's sake." Harley swallowed, trying not to let that exact instance come back to him as a memory in his already muddled state. "Do I look like I'm joking to you?"
Harley wet his lips. "Why me?"
Jerome smiled, giggling softly. "Because you're just like me, and you accept that. You thrive off of it. I don't have to bend and twist to get it out- you wear your crazy like a badge. You walk through fire to be with me just because I've asked you to. Because you love me, and I like it, even though I’ve despised the thought of love... until now. You're probably the only person in my life who's ever loved me." His hold loosened in favor of caressing Harley's face. "You were right, you know." He snorted, as if amused by the sentence. He must not have said it a lot. "You can't just belong to me. And you don't. I belong to you too. I really would do anything for you." Smiling, Harley leaned forward and kissed him again.
There was a certain excitement in the moment. Jerome loved him.
There was also a sense of dread. A sense of being locked up, in a sense. Jerome had never been loved before. Had never loved anyone more than he loved himself before. He wouldn't handle it well if Harley was hurt or left him. Harley couldn't imagine wanting to leave Jerome after everything they've been through, but normal relationships always had the recognition that it might happen, right? You dreaded that moment and hoped it never happened... By the look in Jerome's eyes, Harley knew that wasn't a possibility. They were stuck together forever now. It was Jerome's Harley and Harley's little Joker. Forever.
Or, at least, until death do them part.
-
"Hey Lovebird," Harley greeted brightly one morning.
Jeremiah scoffed, but he was smiling so Harley knew no harm had been done. "Good morning Harley."
Harley waved at Ecco who nodded at him in return, a small smile on her face. "Any plans today?" Harley asked, setting himself down next to Jeremiah.
A little coy curve of his lips was answer enough, but Jeremiah explained anyway. "Bruce is coming over today to see the new prototypes." Here he got excited, going into full nerd mode. Harley and Jeremiah had begun to get close. It was kind of wild to see a sane version of Jerome. Boring though. Harley could never bring himself to spend too much time with Jeremiah before he needed to visit his boyfriend again.
His boyfriend. Jerome had finally made it official and had picked up the pet names again. Harley was weak over it. He didn't think he'd ever have a boyfriend, let alone one who was so unapologetically proud of being with him. Someone who really loved him and encouraged him to be himself. It was exhilarating.
Ecco brushed her fingers along the back of Harley's head. The boy knocked out of his thoughts and looked up to see Jeremiah looking expectantly. "Oh sorry." Harley blushed, embarrassed. "What did you say?"
Jeremiah shook his head, but he still had that amused smirk on his face. A teasing expression. Lighthearted. "I was saying that I was thinking about maybe asking him on a date after. If... if you think it's not too early to do that? Or if he won't totally shoot me down?" He got nervous.
It seemed that Jeremiah had gotten into the habit of ignoring little odd things Harley did. He still hadn't asked how Harley so easily found his way through the maze, nor did he question little moments like just now. What could Harley be so happy about? Maybe he wrote it all down to Harley's time with Jerome and his excitement for the possibility of his brother being happy or something. I think Jeremiah was basking in the feeling of watching two brothers really care about each other- something he never experienced but undoubtedly had wanted in some way or another. Harley was curious but couldn't ask, himself. All the odd things he was doing didn't need to be brought to light in favor of exposing the little odd things Jeremiah was doing. And Ecco seemed to trust Harley enough, as long as he made no move to hurt Jeremiah in any way. So for now, it was fine. I guess.
"I don't really know," Harley relented. "The only relationship I've ever been in wasn't exactly... normal."
Jeremiah suddenly got very serious. "Of course, sorry."
"No worries," Harley dismissed. "I just mean I would probably be a bad gauge of timing. I think you should go for it though. Maybe try to be subtle, but definitely drop some hints and give it a try." He smiled and Jeremiah mirrored the expression, relaxing as he daydreamed just a little bit about things that might happen if this whole thing went well. "Until then," Harley continued, flicking Jeremiah's shoulder to get his attention back. Jeremiah blushed, making Ecco smirk and roll her eyes. "Let's make some dinner. Nothing will get him to stay like some good food, and knowing him, he'll probably have skipped a meal again while still unsure if Jerome is alive or not." Harley looked at his hands.
Jeremiah swallowed. "Yeah, makes sense." He moved to Harley, nudging Harley's shoulder with his own. "Come and help me?" He was trying to be a good friend and keep Harley distracted from sad thoughts. Little did he know that Harley was simply annoyed. He just wanted to be happy with his boyfriend without his brother trying to find them both and throw them back in that hell hole Arkham.
"Fore sure," Harley responded anyway, forcing a smile. "We better hurry. Waynes have high standards for food."
-
Harley chilled in the room with all the monitors as Jeremiah showed off his prototype to Bruce. Jeremiah had moved the operation to the room to allow Harley to listen in and gauge Bruce's reaction to things. Harley couldn't help without coming out and revealing himself, but Ecco went back and forth so if Jeremiah really needed a hand he could give advice through her. Harley and Ecco together were really good at coming up with solutions and dealing with romance. They seemed to be able to find a whole braincell between them, and it worked well. It was quite impressive actually.
Bruce seemed super interested in Jeremiah's little project, but every once in a while those eyes full of light and excitement would turn from the energy thingy - Jeremiah had explained it maybe hundreds of times to Harley, but he still didn't exactly get how it worked - to Jeremiah, and his eyes would get even brighter; his smile even wider. Harley got it, honestly. Jeremiah was shy and soft spoken for the most part but get him talking about his idea for this cleaner power source and he came alive in a way that made him all levels of adorable. He used his hands to talk when he was excited, and kept looking between the project he was explaining and the boy he was explaining it to. Every time the boys' eyes met, both of them got a little pinker and it made Harley giggle.
"They're such nerds," Harley scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"They're idiots," Ecco agreed. "Which is crazy considering they're both seen as geniuses in Gotham. Especially Jeremiah." They both laughed softly before Ecco headed out again, leaving Harley alone.
Watching them took quite a while, and as time passed Harley found himself getting more sad. He wished that he could do things like that with Jerome. Flirt and geek out together and share little looks and innocent moments. Go on dates and hold hands and share long looks and dusty pink blushes. Harley wondered if Jerome had ever looked at him like that. No, such a soft look didn’t belong on Jerome’s face.
Eventually it ended and outside the compound, Jeremiah asked Bruce on a date. Obviously the boy said yes. Inside, the trio of friends celebrated as Bruce went home that night. And after they’d cheered and congratulated, Harley told Jeremiah that he needed some air and headed out.
This was another odd thing that Jeremiah was choosing to ignore. Sometimes Harley stayed the night and sometimes he didn’t. No one questioned it.
Harley headed to the hideout where Jerome was waiting for him. He was busy though, seeming distracted by a small book and lots of drawings. Harley planted himself on the couch to give Jerome some space. Whether he was planning or just musing, Jerome likes his space when doing it. Harley was willing to wait and give it to him.
In the quiet, Harley’s mind wandered back to his thoughts from earlier. He imagined just for a second, a world where Jerome’s smiles were soft. Where his smiles were warm. Where his eyes were wide and his words were honest and soothing. Where his touch was gentle. Where they were together and they cuddled in the park during lunchtime and had a picnic as Jerome rubbed his back and they both lay in peace and quiet. He imagined kisses that brushed rather than bruised. It was a sweet thought. A fantasy he’d loved as a child.
Did he still like it? Could he imagine himself in a life where he got a job and wore a suit or even a tshirt and jeans like he had been for Jeremiah? Like he had when he wasn’t Harley Quinn? Honestly, he couldn’t.
A frown took his face. He had nothing to distract him and icky feelings began to rise up, so he defaulted to habits that had yet to fail him. He went out to the store and got a drawing notebook and a pack of pencils and then colored pencils and got to work. He sat and drew as he continued to wait for Jerome, sifting through his mind.
He expected to draw that fantasy. That park and the grass and the serene expressions on his and Jerome’s faces. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it though and instead spent the next however long drawing memories rather than fantasy. All of them were Jerome, and there was blood everywhere. Most of them were just doodles, but the expressions he focused on. He made sure to capture the twisted enjoyment in each recall.
Only then did he divert to that sort of calm Jerome. Not Jeremiah, who was a coward and awkward and kind of annoying and paranoid and boring. A Jerome who’d grown up in a place that was loving and a world that was accepting.
This drawing took time. It was detailed and careful as Y/n drew the smiling face of a boy that had been destroyed before he even had a chance to begin. There was softness and warmth and gentleness and it made Y/n grown even more deeply.
“What’s that?”
He hadn’t realized Jerome and gotten up, but it didn’t bother him to show his boyfriend what he was doing. Harley had nothing to hide. “I’m having these thoughts. Watching Jeremiah and Bruce today...” he shrugged. “It made me think.”
Jerome hopped over the back of the couch, landing next to Harley. He tilted his head in curiosity. “Think about what?”
Harley offered a small smile. “You don’t want to hear about it.”
Raising an eyebrow, Jerome countered, “You don’t know what I want to know. Tell me!”
Sighing softly, Harley gave in. “You know every tine we have sex, it’s rough. And every time you kiss me it’s hard and desperate. Like it might be the last time. Every time you look at me there’s a heaviness in your expression. Like your affection for me is weighed down by something. By fear or anger or lust rather than love. And- I mean I don’t mind it. I like our sex.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes at himself. “I don’t know I just saw how they looked at each other today. And the awkward way that they communicated. Being coy and innocent and flirty. It was kind of cute. Made me realize I’ve never had anyone look at me like that.”
Jerome nodded as he listened. He was getting better at that as time passed. He was easily bored and antsy, but spending time with Harley seemed to ease him in some way. Just enough that the two could hold out a surprisingly functional relationship. It was why Harley spoke so honestly now- there were no more secrets between them.
Jerome tugged the book and writing utensils out of Harley’s hands, setting them on the ground before pushing him down on the couch. “Is that what you want?”
Well that wasn’t expected. “Do I want someone else? Of course not.”
“No,” Jerome corrected. His hand rose to stroke Harley’s neck. The boy shivered. “Do you want me to be gentle?”
“I-“ Yet again Jerome had somehow surprised him. “Why?”
Jerome shrugged. “You deserve the world, my dear. If you want someone to look at you like those idiots in those sappy movies, I’ll do it at least once. My motto is that you have to try everything at least once to see if you like it. It’s how I figured out I like men.”
That made Harley chuckle. He touched Jerome lovingly, humming in thought. “You don’t have to change for me, J.”
“I know.” His hips dipped and he grinded into Harley. The boy beneath him gasped, his lips parting and his head pressing into the couch as his grip fighting in Jerome’s arm and shoulder. “Do you want me to do it or not? Just so you know.”
Taking a second to regain his breath, Harley nodded. “Just as long as you’re in charge.”
Jerome grinned. “Good, because tonight I’m in the mood to make you feel really good.”
-
Male reader tag List: @sheepfather
#jerome valeska#gothem#male reader#cameron monaghan#jeremiah x bruce#jerome valeska imagine#jerome valeska x imagine#gothem imagine#gothem x reader#cameron monaghan x reader#cameron monaghan imagine#joker imagine#joker x reader#the best things series
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OH NO THEY WERE ROOMMATES / Very much unshort fic
#14 from this prompt list (I had to scroll waaaay down to get this link...)
Listen, for some reason these last few prompts from the list don’t wanna play nice. I have no idea whether this is any good, but at least it’s finished. I’ll settle for it at this point. Five to go!
We’re roommates but we’re falling for each other
It had started as a quick white lie, to get the boys off his back. They kept pushing him to go talk to any boy who looked at him a bit too long, or to give his number to basically any barista or waiter ever, or to go on a blind date with Basile’s cousin.
So Lucas had told them he had a thing going with his roommate.
Which was definitely not true.
But not because Lucas didn’t want to.
He’d had a crush on the handsome boy since he met him when he first came to look at the apartment with Manon. It wasn’t the biggest one he’d seen, nor the cheapest, but it had, well, other advantages, so to speak, so Lucas had been quick to co-sign the lease. If Manon suspected his reasons, she hadn’t said anything – but she had smiled when Lucas had come up with his fib.
Sadly, his fantasies of cooking together with his roommate, watching movies cuddled up on the couch, and slowly falling in love, had turned out to be a pipe dream. Eliott was mostly in his room. On occasions, he liked to blast dubstep. Lucas had soon figured out that the dubstep meant that Eliott was, uh, entertaining. The number of girls Lucas had walked in on early in the morning, before his first coffee, was staggering, and had quickly led to him putting up all his vague romantic ideas of his roommate.
But by the time Lucas was forced to come to the sad conclusion that the cutest boys were always straight, he’d already kinda committed to the story he’d told his friends, and so now he was stuck with it.
So every time he fantasized about another domestic moment of fluff with Eliott, he told himself it was for a good purpose. The girls were always bugging him for details about what he and his roommate were up to. They had declared them to be made for each other, and the discussions about their ship name were still in full vigor with no hint of them losing interest any time soon.
So Lucas provided.
He and Eliott had cooked pizza from scratch together, getting covered in flour, and accidentally setting off the smoke alarm because they were too busy making out to pay attention to the oven. Lucas ignored Emma’s eager question as to whether they had showered together to get rid of the flour dust.
Another time, he and Eliott had gone grocery shopping together, and Eliott had spun the cart on which Lucas had been standing so fast Lucas had fallen off, luckily into a pile of cardboard boxes. He’d still made Eliott kiss it better on each and every faint bruise as soon as they’d gotten home.
Or the time when they had held a Star Wars marathon, arguing about who was sexier, the young Han Solo or Dameron Poe, when Eliott had turned off the tv and complained Lucas was forcing him to compare a bunch of actors, when Eliott clearly had the sexiest boy of all in his arms.
The girls cooed at every concoction he fed them. In all honesty, it became hard for Lucas to remember none of this had actually happened – until the next scantily clad girl tiptoed through the hall on the way to the bathroom, bleary faced from the lack of sleep.
So after a few months of happy bliss, Lucas felt he had no choice but to break things off with Eliott. It became pretty painful to come up with lovey-dovey tales, and his fantasies were more and more often getting into… less family-friendly territory, which he wasn’t about to share with everybody.
His friends were a bit astonished at the news, and Lucas supposed it was weird, since he never even hinted at any trouble in paradise, but he shrugged it off, saying it was amicable, a joint decision, and he wasn’t even going to move out.
The downside was obviously that, after a few wonderful weeks of peace and quiet when everybody was coming around to the end of Lucas’ first relationship, Basile’s cousin came back into the picture.
Lucas tried to hold off, but he had no excuses left. And anyway, Eliott was playing dubstep almost every night, although Lucas hadn’t really encountered any pretty girls lately, and it grated Lucas’ nerves. It was time to admit he would never have Eliott, all his beautiful daydreams notwithstanding, so he might as well give somebody else a chance.
So he went out with Marc a few times. He was kind, and he had grey eyes, which Lucas recently discovered he had a thing for, so that was a plus. He was also a bit boring, and he tutted at Lucas disapprovingly when the latter tried to ride the bus without validating his ticket, but other than that, he was pretty okay.
And that’s how he found himself on the couch in his flat one evening. Marc and he had watched a movie – Lucas had nixed Marc’s suggestion of Star Wars vehemently – to the soft background music of dubstep coming out of Eliott’s room. It had been weird at first, but it had grounded Lucas somehow – Eliott was never going to be interested, and it was best if he remembered that and didn’t forget that Marc was here, and rather into him if the heated make-out session they were currently engaged in was to be believed.
Neither he nor Marc noticed the sudden appearance of Eliott in the living room, until the later coughed apologetically.
“Uh, sorry… I didn’t realize you had, uh, company, Lucas,” he stammered.
Lucas immediately let go of Marc, and blushed, then mentally berated himself. Eliott himself probably had a girl in his bed, so why would Lucas not be allowed to bring anybody over?
“Uh, y-yeah, no big deal,” he said, as soon as his vocal cords functioned again. “Uh, Marc, this is Eliott, my roommate. Eliott, this is Marc, my – uh…”
“Lucas’ boyfriend,” Marc cut in, a bit smugly. They’d never discussed their status, but Lucas supposed Marc had just made it clear where he was standing. He didn’t know how he felt about it.
Eliott stared at the two of them, his eyes wide. Lucas didn’t know what was going on.
“Uh, is this – is this a problem? We could go to my room, if you want…”
He hoped the problem wasn’t that he had brought home a boy. He realized he’d never talked with Eliott about his sexuality.
Eliott seemed to be slapped out of whatever daze he’d been in.
“Oh! Oh, no,” he quickly replied. “Please, it’s no problem at all. I’ll just… grab a drink and leave you guys, then… Bye, uh, Martin?”
“Marc,” Marc answered pleasantly, pulling Lucas close.
Lucas watched Eliott retreat into the kitchen – he whipped his eyes away as soon as he realized they were trained on the other boy’s ass in his tight jeans – and then returned his close-lipped smile when he passed them again on the way back to his room. The volume of the dubstep was turned on fractionally, and Marc wanted to continue the heavy petting, but somehow, Lucas wasn’t really into it, and though Marc clearly was angling for an invitation to spend the night, Lucas didn’t extend one.
He said goodnight to Marc, and went to his room. He sat still on his bed, his knees pulled up, his arms around himself, wondering how on earth he had gotten himself in this situation. Maybe he needed to move out anyway. It was clear his crush on Eliott, stupid and one-sided as it was, hadn’t died, and maybe it wouldn’t as long as he lived here.
A knock on the door brought him back into the here and now.
At his “Yes?”, the door opened, and Eliott stood right at the threshold, his hands wrung together.
“Uh, Lucas, I was wondering… Uhm, please don’t take this the wrong way, but, uh… I thought about earlier, and maybe, if it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle, I would indeed prefer it if you went to your room with your, uh, boyfriend in the future.”
The last words came out in a rush, and Lucas wondered if he heard them right.
“Excuse me?”, he uttered, painfully polite.
Eliott mumbled the same sentence as before, this time so low Lucas had to strain to hear it, but there was no doubt Eliott was actually saying what he thought he had been saying.
“Are you saying I can’t bring a guy over to my own flat, that I pay rent for, unless I go to my room with him? What the actual fuck?”
Eliott blushed.
“It’s just… You don’t have to, obviously, but maybe it would be easier for both of us…”
Lucas glared.
“Easier for both of us? How do you figure that, exactly?”
“I mean, you wouldn’t have to worry about me walking in on you…”
“I wouldn’t have to worry about that?” Lucas really was upset. Just because Eliott wasn’t interested in him, didn’t mean he had to be such a douchebag about other guys maybe being so. “Are you sure it’s not just about you? Your straight innocent eyes can’t handle two guys making out, is that it?”
A blush appeared on Eliott’s cheeks, and Lucas deflated. So Eliott was indeed uncomfortable with the idea. The moving out plan became more and more alluring by the minute.
It was silent for a long beat, and then Eliott spoke up, enunciating clearly.
“I’m not straight.”
“Huh? Don’t give me crap. I’ve seen most of your one-night stands. Very female, the lot of them.”
“Yeah, I know…” Eliott chuckled a bit self-deprecatingly. “I’m pan, though. I’ve been with guys too, just not…recently.”
In all honesty, the Lucas of a few months ago would have been elated to hear this. Right now, however, it was more a question of adding insult to injury. So Eliott was into other boys, just not into Lucas. It was this epiphany that drove him to bitterness.
“Yeah, well. At least girls have been doing it for you, then.”
“What? What do you mean?” Eliott sounded genuinely confused.
“All the dubstep. Have you even spent one night alone this month?”
When Eliott froze, Lucas almost wanted to take back his words. Eliott didn’t owe him any accountability.
“Uh, I’m sorry about the dubstep. I haven’t been seeing anybody for a while, but I… I kinda kept playing the music. I don’t know why.”
He was not looking at Lucas as he spoke, and he fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt.
“Oh. Well, it’s none of my business anyway, so, uh –”
“What if I wanted it to be?”
Silence.
“What?”
“What if I wanted it to be your business?”, Eliott repeated. He sounded unsure, but he stared straight at Lucas.
Lucas didn’t answer, sitting on his bed open-mouthed. What was Eliott trying to say? The other boy took a deep breath, and gingerly sat down next to Lucas, far enough not to touch him, but close enough to feel his warmth.
“I, uh, I brought over only girls recently because there was this one boy I was trying to get out of my head. And when that didn’t work, I didn’t want him to suspect anything so I kept playing music. It’s stupid, I know.”
Whoa. Lucas tried to unpack all of that in a logical manner, but he failed spectacularly.
“You played dubstep so I would think you had a girl over?”
Eliott nodded.
“And you brought only girls home because…”
“Because boys weren’t doing it for me, not when they weren’t you. Not that the girls were working out, either.”
There was honesty and vulnerability in his voice, and in his eyes.
“But why… why didn’t you just talk to me? You avoided me all the time… We hardly ever even spoke before now…”
“I know. I just, I crushed so hard on you, from the moment you came to see the flat. But I had no idea you were into guys… I thought the girl you were with was your girlfriend. You two seemed so affectionate.”
“Oh, uh, no, she’s one of my best friends, and an ex-roommate, actually. But I’m gay, so, uh…”
Eliott sighed.
“Yeah, I figured that out now. And it sucks, because maybe, if I had just made a move sooner… But it doesn’t matter. You have a boyfriend, and I’ll have to learn to live with that.”
Oh crap. Lucas had forgotten all about Marc.
“I wouldn’t call it that… We went out a couple of times… Mostly because it seems I was applying your tactic to try to get over a certain somebody I was crushing on… Somebody I too thought was straight, what with all the girls he was bringing home…”
He let his words die off, looking at Eliott.
It took him a few seconds, but then he turned towards Lucas, shifting slightly closer. Their legs touched, and it burned Lucas through Eliott’s jeans and his sweatpants.
“So, uh, if that guy promised not to bring over any girls anymore, could you be persuaded not to see Marc anymore?”
Lucas pretended to mull it over.
“Maybe if he also promised he won’t play dubstep if I ever end up in his bed, I think I could be, yes.”
Eliott laughed.
“I won’t have to play anything if we stay in your bed.”
And that sounded like a perfect compromise, so Lucas toppled Eliott and pressed their lips together.
#I write things#50 cliché prompts#Elu#skam france fanfic#oh no they were roommates#I didn't even edit this so please point out the numerous mistakes I undoubtedly left here
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