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burnedbyshoto · 3 years

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for want of a bento box

– It’s plain and simple, you see, someone is stealing your bento boxes and you will find your lunch thief! Or, in which Todoroki Shouto keeps taking your bento box and you declare war.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing, shouto is a bad chef, I believe I made reader pretty gender neutral but I whipped this out in two hours and I can no longer remember if I used any fem!pronouns but im pretty sure I didn’t

word count: 3,060

a/n: this is for the wonder coworker bnharem collab! I had intended on writing a completely different theme and storyline but was very overwhelmed by how much time it actually needed to be written compared to the amount of time I actually had. that version will be out another time! but for now, enjoy some pure flufffffff!!!!

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Having a normal, functioning, well-paying job was probably the most desirable thing to you. It wasn’t to say that you were slacking or that you were homeless, broke, and never to be seen again because you were that in debt. But it was nice having a job!

When you entered the prestigious Toshinori Company, you joined not as an entry-level job employee but as a senior representative. You thought it was crazy.

It had to be crazy.

You had no prior experience, and now you were going to be in charge and the lead in certain areas?!

“And that was the entire layout of the office!” Mina chirped happily, throwing herself onto the desk chair across from yours with a big smile. “Any questions?”

“I don’t think so,” you mutter, brows creased as you look around the room again.

The office space was ample, sleek, open. Each desk has its own grand computer that you currently could not afford with your own money, comfortable chairs, and beautiful wood desks. It was elegant, far superiorly fancy, and yet, you didn’t feel out of place. Strange.

“Oh!” you say with a roll of your eyes as you reach below your desk to bring up your packed lunch. “Where was the break room again? I need to refrigerate my food!”

“Omg, of course, come this way!” Mina grins, standing up and motioning you to follow her. You smile gratefully and do.

The entire way to the office, Mina takes the time to point at the many different people on the floor and give them names. Everyone so far had sort of acknowledged you earlier as Mina was giving you the official tour. Some were much more open and friendly, and some had sneers or blank stares that left you dumbstruck.

Definitely a personable group.

“Hm, well, I guess Todoroki-kun isn’t here today?” Mina mutters as you enter the break room that has couches and comfortable-looking chairs. “Such a shame! You would have loved to see the office hottie!”

You snort at that, lips curled into a granulous smile as you place your plastic container with food into the fridge. “I’m sure I’ll live,” you brush off the fact that there was an absent person on your floor today.

“That’s the thing, though,” Mina points a finger at you, a lone eyebrow raised and a confident smirk on her face. “You won’t be thinking that again the moment you see him!”

You laugh, eyes crinkling as Mina joins your laughter. Eventually, she motions for the both of you to leave, and you nod in understanding. And with a weird sense of comfort and belonging, you realized that this job was going to be good.

Eventually, you had been working at Toshinori Company for two months.

Sixty-two days to be precise, and in all that time, you had only met Todoroki Shouto once. Even then, you had only seen the man walking through the office with a blank face, fingers in his pockets as two other men were walking in front of him, bickering lightly.

Had Mina not quite literally thrown herself across the table and gripped the collar of your shirt and twisted your head to look at him, you would have never caught a glimpse at the man with red and white hair. The three of them walked into the break room and came back out with their own lunches before leaving.

And that was it.

You had learned that the three of them (Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki) were within your department but worked very closely with the very high up members within the company. Many rumors pointed at one of the three taking over the company when the current CEO stepped down. They were, however, on the roster for your floor; they just never appeared except to pick up their lunches. Something they seemed to come to grab whenever you were a) way too fucking busy or b) not in the room.

You weren’t too bothered, though.

It wasn’t like you were trying to date one of them! You had only wanted to say hi.

Now, at ninety days, you had your first and probably most crucial evaluation.

Toshinori Yagi, the man who founded and currently ran this company, sat before you, looking at papers within a folder with tired but kind blue eyes. He nodded, impressed (hopefully), making small comments about the work you had been able to accomplish, a smile becoming a warming grin as he looked up.

“I’m impressed by the performance you’ve managed to attend to despite the short while you’ve been here, y/l/n-shojo,” Toshinori spoke, his fingers threading together and placing them onto the table. “I knew it was an excellent decision to put you in that position, and you exceeded my entire expectation!”

You flushed at that, lips twitching as you attempted to suppress that smile of yours.

“Thank you, Toshinori-san,” you practically wheeze as he waves off your thanks.

“No need to thank me, you’ve done all this work!” he laughs, tired eyes closing with a glorious supply of crow's feet blooming at the corner of his eyes. “Typically, at these evaluations, I ask a bunch of questions because there isn’t too much anyone can do in their first ninety days, I must admit.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm, but because I am curious, is there anything that has been happening as of late that you feel needs to be addressed with me?”

You felt yourself stiffen but knew your one and only complaint was not something to bring up in this setting.

“No, nothing,” you shrug, and Toshinori beams.

“I’m glad!”

Now, the problem.

The big, fat, stinky, hooligan, wanting to throttle someone problem.

For the past sixty of your ninety days, someone has been stealing your lunch.

Yes, you heard that correctly; someone was stealing your damn lunch! Every morning you woke up and prepared a delicious bento box for yourself. Some days you went as far as cutting shapes into your fruits and veggies just to make yourself grin. You weren’t the best chef in the world, but your bento boxes were pretty enough to make up for it, in your opinion. But the thing is, every day when you went into the communal fridge, you noticed two things.

One, your bento box was no longer in the same place, and two, the bento box was not yours at all.

The food was disastrously organized. Rice and lettuce spilling out in every partition in the box. The fruit and veggies often packed in this box had multiple cuts in them, implying that whoever did this was less than ideal with a knife. The meat was often oversalted, the sushi never sitting together, and everything was just… not it.

The first time you had sighed and eaten it, grumbling about how your precious lunch was stolen. But you had quickly figured out that it was inedible, and Mina, Uraraka, and Yaoyorozu thank god, offered to share their meals.

Seeing that you were distressed about how someone stole your egg and octopus sausages one day, Mina declared that they would watch the break room for whoever was stealing your light blue bento box. The first day you staked out, you had done it with Mina. But ten minutes into waiting around, you needed to pee. So you stood up and left in a hurry, leaving Mina alone.

But when you returned, Mina was gone, instead standing by Kirishima’s desk with a bright grin and a stance that screamed that she heard something she liked (gossip, possible in-office romance, a love confession?). Her jaw dropped as she noticed you and Kirishima had turned and waved in your direction as you raced into the break room to open the fridge, and sure enough, your bento was gone.

The next time, you staked out with Uraraka. Your arms were folded, your bladder cleared, and your lips twisted into a pout as you glared and stared down every single member who entered the room. Uraraka whispered to you her guesses about just who might be the thief, every other person rating an 8/10 likelihood of stealing your lunch.

But as the both of you sat there, your eyes narrowed at each passerby, no one came to collect your bento today.

“Deku-kun, no packed lunch today?” Uraraka asked as the green, curly-haired man you had only met once previously raced into the break room, grabbing the extra chopsticks meticulously hidden in the third bottom draw.

“Ah, Uraraka-san, y/l/n-san! Uh, no,” Midoriya greeted you both, who apparently responds to the nickname Deku, laughs off as he grabs a handful of napkins. “Todoroki-kun left all our lunches in his car by accident, and well… they spoiled… Kacchan’s pissed, so I ran off to get lunch for us today!”

Uraraka laughed, shaking her head, “Leave it to Todoroki-kun to act that way.”

Midoriya laughed, bright and clearly in agreement, “You should have seen his face when Kacchan asked for his lunch! I swear–”

“HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO GRAB FUCKING CHOPSTICKS, SHIT-KU! I’M FUCKING STARVING!” a voice roared from nowhere near the entrance of the break room. You did, however, jump a bit, eyes turning toward the break room entrance to see the blond man (Bakugou? Kacchan? You had no idea which was correct) near the entrance of the floor.

“It’s only been a minute, Kacchan, relax!” Midoriya laughs, completely unaffected by the startling shout as he waves goodbye to both you and Uraraka before leaving, joining Bakugou as the both of them seem to talk comfortably… well, maybe more like bickering.

“Why are they–”

“Childhood friends, apparently,” Uraraka sighed, but the smile on her face betrays her exasperation.

No one stole your bento that day.

Yaoyorozu took up the third stake out, the two of you idly chatting about tea. You honestly had no idea what to talk about with Yaomomo; she was often just so elegant and mature despite being your age. When you learned that her family was in charge of the Yaoyorozu Corp, it had been strangely easy to accept that.

It made sense.

So as the two of you stood at the kitchen sink, boiling water for tea Yaomomo swore would be the best matchup for your packed nigiri, the both of you missed the man who walked into the room, opened the fridge, and took your lunch.

“I… I am so sorry,” Yaomomo apologized, head bowed dangerously low as the both of you looked at the sloppily cut salmon in your not actual bento. “Please eat my food in reparation.”

“No, it’s okay,” you sigh, chewing on the somehow still warm salmon. “I deserved this loss.”

Luck was just on this man's side, it seemed. No matter what you did, you could never catch the man in action, and you were ready to give up.

But this was the last attempt you said to yourself as you returned to your office floor, the evaluation done, and the rest of your life coming to light. You could do this. No! You WOULD do this!

“Why don’t you just put your name on your bento box?” Bakugou asked, a lone eyebrow raised in what you could only assume was judgment and pity. The explosive man was standing in the doorway of the breakroom, watching as you and Mina were trying to climb up the counters of the breakroom to grab the camera you had previously planted. “Obviously, it doesn’t have your name on it.”

“Um,” you squeak, having been obviously caught by someone who intimidated you just the slightest bit. “That’s a good idea, thank you, Bakugou-san.”

“Tch, whatever, just clean up the damn counters, fucking nasty standing up on there. Some people prepare their food there.”

“We would never forget to do that!” you argue, desperate to not leave a bad impression on this man.

“I don’t know much about you, but I know raccoon eyes over there would.”

“MY NAME IS MINA!”

“Like I care.”

He left without so much as a wave but did seem to nod with his departure. You sighed as you hopped off the counter, Mina grabbing the cleaning supplies as she cursed out the long-gone man under her breath.

But you were looking at the fridge with your missing bento box.

“I can’t believe I never put my name on it.”

“It’s okay! Not even Yaomomo thought of it, so I say we are still smart!”

It was the next day, you were at your desk, anxious as hell as you did your work, trying not to focus on the fact that it was lunchtime and you were actively avoiding the break room. You wondered if they wouldn’t come and collect it today. If somehow they were an asshole and wouldn’t care if your name was on it! What would happen then? What if it was someone like Bakugou who was taking your lunch? What then? You were sure you would cave in slight fear and major intimidation if he said that your lunch was his now.

“Want a cutie while we wait, cutie?” Mina asked, waving the small tangerine in her fingers as she grins.

“Please,” you say in gratitude for the food because you were starving. “Thank you.”

Eventually, you lost track of what was happening, becoming all too invested in the conversation that Mina was telling you about that involved Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, Midoriya, twenty-seven Red Bulls, fifteen Monsters, and five shots of sake. It seemed that the former two were quite big instigators when they wanted to be, and the latter two were unable to back away from challenges, especially when the other was involved.

“Y/l/n?” an unfamiliar voice called from behind you, and you turned partially in your chair as you looked behind you.

Standing behind you was a tall man with red and white hair, and from this distance, you noticed immediately that his eyes were a deep grey and brilliant blue.

Todoroki Shouto.

“T-Todoroki-san!” you greet him back, voice unable to keep from trembling as your nerves shot up. What was going on? You two had never interacted before! He was always gone, never present, and whenever he was in the office, it seemed that you weren’t there.

He cleared his throat and raised up two identical bento boxes.

“It seems… I have apparently been stealing your bento boxes,” he concludes, pressing the blue bento box with your name written on it into your hands.

Your jaw drops as your fingers curve around the cool plastic, eyes blinking up a storm as you try to abstain from laughing high pitched and ugly like.

“It was you?!”

A pink color blooms onto his cheeks as he averts his eye contact with you and nods slowly, “I am so sorry.”

“I just… how?!” you exclaim, exasperated, this man obviously being a bit dense if he had no idea he was taking your bento box!

“I prepare my bento boxes the night before, and I don’t really remember what I put into them….” Todoroki explains slowly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, his tongue clicking the roof of his tongue. “I just thought that my cooking was improving and that I was somehow doing an amazing job.”

The grin that overcomes your face is one of subtle, strange fondness and soft warmth. “I can tell you that you probably haven’t improved much,” you tease, opening your bento box to see your prepared meal for the day.

Cucumber salad, bulgogi beef, rice, and some fruit.

It was packed exactly how you remembered.

“I can’t believe I finally get to eat a meal I prepared,” you continue to tease, your eyes moving up to meet Todoroki, who was also looking at your bento previously. “Thank you for returning my meals and apologizing.”

“It was nothing,” Todoroki waved off with a single hand before opening up his own disastrously assembled bento box. It looked worse than usual today. Everything was just thrown in, it seemed. You saw egg and rice, but everything else in there was indescribable. He smiles at you before sighing at his bento. “This looks more like my stuff.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You want to share my bento box? I’m sure you probably don’t want to return to that.”

“No, it’s okay,” Todoroki gently declined, although he looked at your bento with great want. He cleared his throat, gaze moving to lock on yours, and you swore his cheeks were still pink but no longer from embarrassment. “I just wanted to come and apologize for stealing your lunch for so long and to thank you for the meals; they were all delicious. Especially the soba you had made.”

“It’s all good; it’s in the past now,” you say gently, somehow finding yourself falling for a man you’ve barely just begun to talk with. The both of you stare at each other, and your skin feels warm. You chuckle, gaze averting for a moment before returning as you tease him. “Although, if you steal from me again, I’m not so sure if I’ll be so lenient.”

“It won’t happen again, promise,” Todoroki smiles, and you feel your spine melt. “But I would love to make it up to you somehow. I can make you dinner one night or something?”

You laugh, head shaking, “No, absolutely not; I don’t trust your cooking skills just yet. But you can definitely take me out to dinner.”

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” Todoroki agrees, and the both of you fall silent as the shy stares continue. “Does, um… is Friday at seven okay with you?”

“That works,” you say, and Todoroki smiles.

“Good, I’ll uh, see you then?”

“See you,” you agree with a sweet smile before turning around, your fingers raised in a small wave.

You turn to see Mina, Uraraka, and Yaomomo staring at you, eyes comically wide and so very intrigued.

“Oh… my… GOD!” Mina shrieked as Todoroki walks away, and you shriek as she jumps across the table and shakes you, screaming about office romances and meet-cutes being entirely too underrated. “PROMISE ME I’LL BE INVITED TO THE WEDDING!!!!”

“MINA!”

It would take about three years of dating, several months of teaching Shouto how to cook, which resulted in a few bellyaches. Still, eventually yes, Mina would be invited to your wedding.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #mha

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volkswagonblues · 4 years

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a lil guide to the Fire Nation for the ATLA fic writers out there

(aka. a no means exhaustive primer on east asia by an asian person)

This is a guide for fic writers want to write a canon-era story set in the Fire Nation, or featuring Fire Nation characters. A quick little primer on the tiny details of everyday life that you might not think about, but certainly stuff that would make me, an asian person, wince if I were to encounter it. BRUSHES, not quills. CHOPSTICKS, not forks.

(note #1: this was partly inspired by a chat with @elilim)

(note: #2: I originally intended it for zukka fic writers before realizing that other writers might find it useful. so apologies for a slight Zuko-bias for that reason)

(note #3: this is all stuff i was thinking about when writing firebender’s guide, in case anyone was wondering)

1. CLOTHING

Okay, I think the most straightforward way to describe what everyone’s wearing most of the time is “tunic”. They’re all just...tunics of different colours and varieties. Later when Zuko’s the Fire Lord he wears robes. The show provides a better visual guide than I could, here are a few notes to keep in mind:

a) Japanese people wear their collars LEFT crossed over RIGHT

I don’t think this would come up in writing as much as it would in art, but it’s considered bad luck to do it the wrong way because that’s only for dead people. Let my boy Zuko demonstrate:

b) There are no buttons

This is picky, but Wikipedia says “Functional buttons with buttonholes for fastening or closing clothes appeared first in Germany in the 13th century.[6] They soon became widespread with the rise of snug-fitting garments in 13th- and 14th-century Europe.” I kinda believe it. If you look closely, characters’ clothes are always tied together or wrapped in some way with a belt. If there are fasteners, they’re braided frog closures that go into a little loop, like the qipao-style dresses women wear in Ba Sing Se, or Zuko’s casual prince’s clothes in the topmost image. Anyways, I don’t think Zuko or Azula or the Gaang would technically button or unbutton anything when they’re changing clothes. Clothing is designed to be tied, not buttoned.

[so much more under cut]

c) This isn’t a real rule, but there’s something called koromogae, or the seasonal changing of clothing in Japan.

This is something I learned when I was writing firebender’s guide, and I just liked the fun detail about there being a strict calendar for when to wear something. I liked the idea of someone like Zuko, who actually spent most of his formative years outside of the Fire Nation, coming home and just suffering mutely through the summer heat because upper class etiquette says no changing into cooler clothes until August 15.

From My Asakusa:

And this website:

Generally, people change from thick, heavy, dark-coloured clothes for winter to thin, lighter, bright-coloured clothes for spring and summer. In traditional Japanese culture, particularly in formal settings such as tea ceremony, it is important to acknowledge the changes of seasons—in such circumstances, not only the patterns and colours of the kimono that are worn but also the utensils and furniture that are used are required to change. By changing their clothing, people notice and appreciate the change of seasons. [Japan Foundation]

Here are some visual guides from the official creators for clothes: (notice how it’s pretty much always left over right)

2.FOOD AND EATING

a) Traditional cuisine

It seems like the most common foods in canon are Fire Flakes and meat, to the point where poor Aang had to eat lettuce out of the garbage at some point.

HOWEVER, the Fire Nation seems to basically a big subtropical archipelago, so I would guess that seafood and rice are common. If you want to write about characters eating, a. quick google for “traditional japanese cuisine” would help you come up with a menu really quickly.

Wikipedia says:

The traditional cuisine of Japan, washoku (和食), lit. "Japanese eating" (or kappō (ja:割烹)), is based on rice with miso soup and other dishes; there is an emphasis on seasonal ingredients. Side dishes often consist of fish, pickled vegetables, and vegetables cooked in broth. Seafood is common, often grilled, but also served raw as sashimi or in sushi.

But before we get too serious, at one point the Gaang eats a “smoked sea slug” (Sokka’s Master)

Oh ATLA, never stop being you.

b) Utensils

One thing to keep in mind is chopstick etiquette. Someone like Zuko or Toph, for instance, would have completely internalized all of these.

Another thing is that there are no glasses. Cups and bowls are made of ceramic or clay. Let the Gaang show you:

And another note: characters won’t eat “bread” in the European sense, ie. a baked lump of dough. Steamed buns, yes. Fried pancakes made from batter, yes. Flatbreads, okay I’ll give it a pass. Rice or noodles should be the most common carbs of choice.

3.ETIQUETTE

“In the homeland, we bow to our elders” - angry schoolmistress in The Headband.

Japan Guide has a list of etiquette rules for visiting Japan, which is interesting but not too necessary to read. In general, based on what The Headband tells us, Fire Nation characters would have been raised with a strong nationalist curriculum that values communal contribution over individualist expression. Even someone like Zuko, who openly rebels against that, probably couldn’t help but be affected by it. In general the Fire Nation seems to have an East Asian-ish set of values. It’s patriarchal, all the positions of authority are filled by men; there seems to be a strong emphasis on patriotism; there’s a sense of diffidence and respect towards one’s elders; and finally, there’s an emphasis on “knowing” one’s place in society and fitting into what’s expected of oneself.

I don’t really know how to describe it, but in China and Japan I sometimes feel like there’s rules for everything, and even people born and raised there acknowledge it could be stifling at times. You could go down a rabbit hole researching points of etiquette (for instance, rules on who has to sit where in group dinners...), but to me the most important thing is acknowledging that Fire Nation has a rigid system of etiquette, and also, they’re an imperialist power who’s pretty prejudiced against foreigners. Poor Aang/Kuzon gets called “mannerless colony slob” just for being slow on the bowing action (!!!)

(in firebender’s guide I had a lot of fun imagining the stupid microaggressions Ambassador Sokka has to face in the Fire Nation, so obviously I’m just biased)

4.WRITING AND DESKS

Characters would probably write on paper, with a calligraphy brush. Not quills or pens -- a brush. Technically, old Japanese and Chinese texts should be written top to bottom, right to left, but the show itself doesn’t do this, so I think you’re fine.

One fun thing about traditional calligraphy is that you don’t use bottled ink. You have something called an ink stone, and then you grind your ink yourself by rubbing the ink stone in a special little dish with a bit of water. In my (very few) encounters with this stuff in the calligraphy lessons of my youth, the ink stones can be plain or have beautiful designs on the side. It looks something like this:

ATLA is an East Asian-ish universe, so characters are likely to be kneeling at a table, not sitting. To demonstrate, here’s my boy Sokka doing his famous rainbow at Piandao’s:

and here’s the war chamber meeting when Zuko speaks out against a general’s plans to sacrifice some soldiers:

THERE ARE EXCEPTIONS: This is Zuko’s cute little setup when he’s writing his goodbye letter to Mai. In this case he’s writing in a chair and table. It’s possible that some furniture items, like a sitting desk and a bed in a bedframe (not a bedroll or futon) are special royal palace features. Normally in a private setting we see characters sitting on the ground or on a slightly elevated platform with a low table. Maybe Caldera is just different? Or rich people are just different: the Bei Fongs also have a sit-down dining table + chair setup.

(That little rectangular box is his ink dish!!)

5.A NOTE ON GENERAL CULTURE

It’s worth talking about a few general points of East Asian culture. I can’t claim to speak for ALL of Asia, and I don’t think I should. But I do think ATLA fic writers who want to set something in the Fire Nation should take a few moments to at least skim the wiki pages for filial piety and Nihonjinron (literally, "theories/discussions about the Japanese"). There’s a certain...vibe to...asianness... that I’m not sure I can explain without like, a doctorate degree in sociology.

It’s a bit like gender, I guess. There’s no definitive checklist to what is a woman and what is a man, and we can argue that gender is performative, that it’s a construct, but at the end of the day gender is still (tragically) real in the sense that it still shapes people and affects how we walk and talk and dress and think. Nationality is the same. Obviously, the Fire Nation is a made up place in a made up show, but out of respect to the cultures that inspired it, I do think it’s worth familiarizing yourself with some of these cultures’ codes and values.

Also, ahem, if I can direct you to war crimes in the Japan’s colonial empire. Again, worth remembering that the Fire Nation was an imperalist colonizer too.

I might do a continuation of this post and talk through my more abstract takes about Fire Nation culture - Is Zuko an example of filial piety gone right or filial piety gone wrong? Why I think Zuko’s flashbacks are like, at least part teenage melodrama bullshit (the reason is son preference), how someone like Sokka might be treated once he’s openly Water Tribe in the Fire Nation (probably with racism...), specific aspects of asian homophobia and racism, etc. We’ll see.

This is not a definitive guide. Comments and critique welcome.

If you think there’s a factual mistake, PLEASE hop in my asks and let me know. I also think there’s a huge blind spot in ATLA for South and Southeast Asian representation, so I acknowledge that I can’t speak for all Asians, and there is no such thing as a “pan-asian” identity.

If there’s something else you’re curious about, I’m not a historian or anything, but I like research. Ask me and I’ll try to answer the best I can.

And oh, one last thing, this is how I do research when I wrote firebender’s guide, in case anyone’s interested in learning more (LINK)

#Avatar The Last Airbender #zukka #atla fic #my fic #fire nation

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ruby-whistler · 3 years

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Why c!Dream should (and probably will be) redeemed

Hi! I’m bad with intros. You’ve read the title, so, let’s start with the definitions.

In this essay, we are considering the popularized definition of “redemption” instead of the classical one, which is, as per the Oxford Dictionary, “the act of saving or state of being saved from the power of evil; the act of redeeming.” That’s not however the way the word is used in fandom and media.

/dsmp /rp

The definition of redemption I’ll be working with in this essay is not forgiveness by the people who c!Dream has hurt, nor is it removing himself entirely from his past actions, but moreso the decision to change for the better and abandon destructive mindsets for himself and others.

A “redemption” in a narrative sense would be circumstances and a character arc that would allow that kind of healing and betterment.

I’d like to start this off by the fact that being “irredeemable”, in this sense, also doesn’t exist; redemption is a thing of conditions and choice, not of being allowed by someone else. You can’t gatekeep healing from people who seek it, just to be clear, and that even goes for people who have done terrible things.

Since I understand there is a lot of concern for c!Dream’s past actions, here is a post from people who are much more fit than me to speak on the matter, about the way in which they see a possible c!Dream redemption arc.

Another disclaimer, I am not going to be considering c!Dream only from the perspective of c!Tommy in this essay. c!Dream appears in other people’s perspectives and he himself has his own, unseen perspective. As a character, he is an individual person in his own right rather than just the antagonist of c!Tommy’s story, and so I do not have much concern for their narratives intertwining too much should this writing choice occur.

I’d also like to note that redemption is, in this sense, always a positive thing for everyone involved - someone who’s been prone to doing bad things in the past deciding not to do them anymore and try to change, or just simply heal enough to consider it, isn’t going to have a long-term negative effect in any of the characters, but rather the other way around. Healing is an unlimited resource, and the victims do not have to heal first for the person who hurt them to consider being better.

Here’s a well-written thread on Twitter that elaborates a bit to finish off this point, and let’s move on to actually talking about redemption in the context of the Dream SMP, and c!Dream specifically.

Why a c!Dream redemption arc is not only a good writing choice, but in this case the only good writing choice;

c!Dream, as we all know, has been subject to mental and physical abuse to the point of straight up torture by both c!Sam and c!Quackity (to different extents). He has been in indescribable amounts of suffering for the past 74 days at the time this essay will be published. That is six and something times the duration of the entire exile arc in canon.

Whatever the interpretation of his words in prison is, what is undeniable is first of all the fact his mental stability is absolutely crushed at this point, second that no human being could possibly ever deserve to undergo this, and third, his stay in the prison is showing off his humanity and making him out to be sympathetic.

Now, consider this; how would it feel if c!Tommy died at the end of the exile arc? Empty, there would be no catharsis to such an end, especially because of all of the hurt he’d gone through. Objectively, a bad writing choice.

Let’s compare, narratively of course, this situation to the prison arc. Even though I would never say one of them is “better” or “worse” than the other, since both are terrible and undeserved, c!Dream’s current state checks off all of the boxes that would make his death unsatisfying in the storyline; even if people want him gone, there would still be the dissatisfaction at the current build-up and why they even did it in the first place (it really wasn’t necessary to anyone else’s story to make him out as a victim, and yet they did) if they were planning to kill him off anyways. And since the prison arc is naturally meant to induce sympathy, even from an angst perspective it would simply not make sense within the themes and writing of the plot.

So, c!Dream can’t die, and he also can’t stay in the prison forever - the build-up must lead to something, which is logically a breakout. Great… what now?

Well, the Dream SMP prides itself in accurate representation of trauma and mental instability, specifically cc!Tommy and cc!Dream who have pulled it off incredibly during the exile arc.

Now, undoubtedly, after the prison, c!Dream is going to be just terribly traumatized- considering the writers’ past creative decisions, would it make sense for him to play the role of a dangerous, heartless villain in other people’s stories, while completely ignoring the logical fallout of what he’s been through?

In my mind, no. The most possible result is that cc!Dream is going to rightfully portray someone who’s been hurt so much he is broken, scared and tortured into submissions over months of agony and slowly stripping away of his agency, his dignity, his humanity. And that is… not going to be pretty, nor is he going to be in any way the same as before.

After everything, I’d be surprised if he can properly look at shears without shaking. That’s not villain behaviour, that’s the behaviour of someone who needs help.

Which leads me to another point, which is relatability. Believe me or not, there are people out there who heavily relate to c!Dream because they have been through things that allow them to see themselves in the character - abandonment, mental illness, etc. - or who have had destructive mindsets they have struggled to let go of in the past.

To them, as well as to the viewer, redeeming c!Dream could actually be a very good example, showcasing that anyone who has done bad things or has been hurt in the past can learn that it is possible to be better, to move on, to not be stuck in a loop but to actively seek help and then use that support to find the path to healing.

Making c!Dream a better person, who in a way, wins over his past, over his trauma, over the hurt he’s caused, and manages to actually get better… is inspiring, in a sense. It shows that you can abandon unhealthy mindsets, you can find a support group of people who care about you, you can make your life better simply by deciding to be better and then sticking to that, no matter how difficult the process.

This is why I believe that redeeming c!Dream would not be bad writing, but quite the opposite, and that the prison arc is an obvious set-up. Alright, but how does that work with the character? How could someone so widely hated mentally improve in such a seemingly violent and terrible environment? Would it even make sense within the context of c!Dream’s character so far? Well,

Why c!Dream has the capacity for healing and the Dream SMP the ability to provide it;

First of all, let’s remind ourselves that through c!Dream’s entire spiral he wasn’t ever directly given a chance to change. He was regarded as someone to defeat in order to accomplish a happy ending, or as someone who needed to be removed in order to achieve power on the SMP. Ever since the 16th, which is when the corruption of the character is the most obvious, there have been no attempts to reach out or to help him. I do not blame the characters for this - I am simply pointing out that since it has never happened before, we do not know how he would respond, and that, after everything he’s been through, any bit of kindness or compassion towards him will be a new concept he will have to learn to deal with somehow.

This point is especially driven home by the fact that both c!Quackity and c!Sam would often tell him he is a monster who deserves nothing but to suffer, and that what he’s going through is never going to amount to all the hurt he’s caused - basically removing any possibility for ever getting better (because by this logic, he doesn’t deserve support, and he doesn’t deserve to get better) from his line of sight.

He also hasn’t had a support system since shortly after the 16th, when his friends left him over c!George’s dethronement and made no effort to mend their relationship afterwards. c!Dream isn’t used to having allies and people on his side, but to being hated; again, wouldn’t that mean positive reinforcement could very well be all he needs to make the choice?

His bad mindsets - attachments are weakness, ends always justify the means, people will consider you a bad person no matter what you do - have been continuously proven right by his environment, even in prison. Any kind of subversion, plus an explanation as to why they are wrong, could be of great help to c!Dream.

Just another disclaimer; I do not believe c!Dream would change thanks to the treatment in prison, but rather despite it. His mental stability is non-existent at that point, and in order to get better he needs genuine emotional support from the people around him as well as to heal before he can redeem himself.

Alright, but… c!Dream has hurt a lot of people. Who would be fit to help him?

Let’s start off with the worst option and why it’s impossible the writers would even attempt this; c!Tommy.

c!Tommy has no responsibility to help or ever forgive c!Dream - not to say he could. The two, as it is, would drag each other down instead of helping in any capacity, and only make matters worse. The two of them shouldn’t even interact in the best case scenario - the best thing for both of them would be if they got enough healing and support individually that they could live around each other and not get their trauma or toxic habits triggered when interacting for whatever purpose of the plot.

So, if not c!Tommy (and c!Tubbo neither by extension), who could redeem c!Dream?

Well, he can’t do it on his own for sure. Being in nature with animals is nice, but further isolation from other people would merely help with the prison trauma, not with the state of his tendencies when interacting with others. He, once again, needs positive reinforcement from other people for him to heal properly.

There are two main options for this in my mind, and then there’s a few individuals he could also find comfort in, including people from both groups or those unaligned.

1) Kinoko Kingdom

From the people of this new country, c!Dream has never negatively interacted with c!Karl before, he has never hurt c!George and he hasn’t directly harmed c!Sapnap. Although the relationship with his old friend group could be difficult to rekindle, none of them have grudges against him that are too personal, and they have been canonically close friends since the beginning of the SMP, so it would be very much possible to rebuild burnt bridges. They’d be familiar, and with the addition of c!Karl they could be a good source of comfort for c!Dream after he either breaks out or is released from prison - just gotta convince c!Sapnap not to kill him first.

2) The Syndicate

From the Syndicate, c!Dream has never directly interacted with c!Nikki, and from what I know of her character she never seemed to be very affected by his actions - even doing his work for him when he was planning to burn down the L’Mantree. c!Techno is an ally who doesn’t have anything against him, and as for c!Ranboo, here is why I believe c!Dream being in the Syndicate could be positively influential on his character arc as well;

c!Ranboo and c!Philza have had a conversation about change, during which c!Ranboo made it clear he thinks everyone can change except for c!Dream; who, in his mind, is “too deep down the rabbit hole”. c!Philza replied that he thinks anyone can change if given enough time.

… you see what I’m getting at?

c!Dream has been implied to be an ally to c!Ranboo’s enderwalk state (or the state when he has access to his full memory), and hence would most likely not behave negatively towards him at all. While it might make it more difficult for c!Ranboo to deal with his own issues, it might also give him more motivation to get to the bottom of it as well, especially since he now has access to the person who, presumably, started this all. While this is going on, c!Dream would show himself in a much different light than c!Ranboo sees himin, which could lead to confusion, realization of the flaws in his own logic, and hence, positive character development.

Here’s a great post about why c!Techno as a character could be a great asset in c!Dream’s healing process & redemption, and why there is not much need to worry about him not knowing or finding out about c!Dream’s actions.

Of Kinoko Kingdom and the Syndicate, as far as I know, neither c!Tommy nor c!Tubbo have ever been directly involved with these groups, nor are they planning to.

Another important point to make is that, while c!Tommy needs to be kept away from c!Dream in order to heal properly, the same goes for c!Quackity and c!Sam in c!Dream’s case. While c!Quackity has high chances to interact with either Kinoko Kingdom or the Syndicate in the future, there’s an even higher chance, in that situation, that c!Dream would be offered protection, which is also important; there is no healing from trauma without the knowledge of safety, to some degree.

So, this was an essay as to why I think c!Dream’s recovery and redemption (one needs to come before the other, naturally) is not only extremely possible but also could be pulled off well and have a positive impact on both the characters, and the audience.

#dreblr #dream smp #c!dream #c!dream sympathetic #c!quackity neg #c!sam neg #dsmp analysis #tw torture #tw abuse #long post #i really should start writing longer essays #i need more material #anyways #hope y'all liked this #just joining the debate #:]

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shitty-marvel-fan732 · 3 years

Note

Hi can I request a peter parker x barnes-Rogers reader (steve and Bucky's daughter) and me and Peter find out I'm pregnant with Peter's baby and we try to keep it a secret but everyone is suspicious of us cause I've been really poorly lately and Peter is being overprotective and one day Peter accidentally says "don't do that it could hurt the baby" or "and everyone freaks out and me, Peter and my dads have a long talk but everything is fine thanks xx

Unexpected

Pairing: Peter Parker x Barnes-Rogers! Reader

Requested?: Yes!

Word count: Almost 7k

Warnings: Pregnancy, some angst but thats it I think?

Author's Note: Yessssss this was so fun to write! Very excited to be back to posting on this page again. Thank you so much for the request! Hope to start adding in more content soon, so if yall have any requests feel free to send them in! And if you have requests sent in already, know that I love you and I will be getting to clearing out my inbox here pretty soon 🥰

Taglist: @just-that-bi-girl , @winterfrostsarmy

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In retrospect, the entire team should have realized what was going on with you a lot sooner. To their credit, most of them had noticed that something was different about you, but other than Nat and Wanda none of them had a guess as to what exactly that was.

The men appeared completely clueless in respect to the cause of the recent changes in you. Even Clint, a married father of three, hadn't caught on even after he'd seen you leaving the bathroom having clearly just thrown up. Tony had been the closest to figuring it out of the all men, having noticed your odd mood swings and crying fits as they became more and more frequent. He noted the same behavioral pattern as he'd found himself stuck in after the Battle of New York, and secretly worried for your mental well-being. He hadn't felt comfortable enough to broach the topic with you just yet though, instead opting to watch you from a distance for the time being.

The women, however, seemed to understand almost instantly what was going on. Nat had figured things out once she realized that you had been skipping training lately and noticed that you and Peter barely appeared to leave one another's sides for even a moment. Wanda based her guess almost solely upon the fact that she could just feel that something was different about you; your entire energy had changed in the last few weeks and she noted it even before Peter had. Both women had their suspicions, but had seemingly agreed to keep their thoughts to themselves until you were ready to tell the team what was going on.

Your dads were a different story altogether.

It took Steve and Bucky much longer to notice something had changed with their daughter, Steve longest of all. Either you'd done a great job of avoiding your Pops or he'd been incredibly unobservant (or more likely both), but he hadn't seen anything that he would've considered out of the ordinary for you.

That is, until today.

"AAAAUUUUUUGGGGH"

Steve was on his feet in an instant, sprinting into the kitchen at the sound of your enraged scream. He skidded to a stop and surveyed the room with a trained look for the source of danger, but found none. In fact, you and Sam were the only two in the space as far as he could tell. Sam's back was pressed snugly against the furthermore countertop as you practically cornered him, the older man clearly caught off guard by your sudden burst of rage. You flung your hands around wildly as you yelled, one gripping a box so tightly that your knuckles were beginning to turn a concerning shade of white.

Completely bewildered, Steve watched in stunned silence for moment as you fumed and screamed expletives at the slightly-terrified looking Sam, without any clear indication as to what had happened.

"I CANNOT FUCKING BELIEVE YOU, YOU GODDAMNED ASSHO-"

"Y/N Barnes-Rodgers!" Steve scolded you finally, momentarily stopping your verbal assault. "What in God's name is going on here?"

Your eyes turned to your Pops' briefly before flickering back to glare in Sam's direction.

"Pigeon-brain ate the last of my oreos," you seethed, walking forward and jabbing an accusatory finger to Sam's chest, his hands instantly flying upwards in surrender.

Steve felt his jaw drop in utter disbelief.

“You-,”

“What’s with all the commotion in here?” Bucky interrupted, striding into the kitchen much as Steve had moments ago and joining his husband's side with a confused look on his face. Steve crossed his arms and frowned at their daughter.

“Apparently our daughter is screaming at Sam because he ate her cookies.” your Pops explained tersely.

“Not cookies, oreos,” you muttered, glare never wavering from Sam. You furiously threw the offending empty package roughly at his still bewildered face in lieu of another expletive. Sam was evidently so bewildered, in fact, that he didn't even flinch as the box hit his head and bounced pathetically to the floor.

Bucky raised his eyebrow.

“And that’s why you’ve been screaming like that?” he confirmed. You nodded, arms crossing your chest stubbornly.

Bucky shrugged, looking towards his husband with a look of indifference. “Makes sense.”

“No, it absolutely does not make sense,” Steve lightly scolded, glancing at Bucky with a pointed look before returning his gaze to you. “Y/N you’re completely overreacting. Apologise to Sam right now.”

Your mouth dropped open, and you gaped at your dads with an expression that was equal parts betrayal and rage.

“No.”

“No?” Steve repeated incredulously. He stared at you with disbelief, looking between you and Bucky like he was hoping he’d somehow misheard you. You met his glance with an equally stubborn look as you planted your feet solidly beneath you and tightened the cross of your arms. “What do you mean, no?”

“You heard me,” you spat, unwavering.

Sam merely looked confused as he watched the two of you argue, if albeit still a bit scared, but Bucky was sure his shock was evident on his face. You never back-sassed your Pops, not even when you were really angry, and Bucky only felt his disbelief grow at the prospect that your attitude was all due to a few cookies.

"Y/N, you don't get to tell me no," Steve ground out carefully, voice stern with a rare sort of parental authority he seldom had to use with you. In fact, Bucky was pretty sure he hadn't actually heard him use this particular tone since way back when you were a toddler testing the limits of your dads' patience. But unlike your three-year-old self, you didn't back down at your Pops' disapproving tone; in fact, you met his intense stare with a flippant roll of your eyes, deepening your dad's shock at your abrupt behavioral shift.

"He fucking knows what he did, everyone knows those oreos are mine," you snapped, eyes alight with a kind of fury the likes of which your dads had never seen from you before.

"Language!" Steve gasped at his daughter, his authoritative tone giving way to a spluttering one of complete disbelief.

"FUCK OFF!" you shouted instantly.

"HEY!"

Bucky had officially had enough. Irritation blossomed deep within his chest at the hurt he saw wash through his husband's eyes at your vulgar screech. Teenaged angst was one thing, but it was entirely another to blatantly disrespect Steve like you were. He still didn't know what was really causing you to act like this--because no way in hell could this be all over some oreos-- but he'd definitely passed the point where he even cared.

"Doll, that’s enough. Clearly you're upset, but you cannot speak to your Pops like that," he practically growled. You turned your attention to your dad with the same kind of indignant irritation in your eyes, a flash of fresh anger rolling across your face at the sight of Bucky's equally irate expression.

"You can fuck off too," you spat.

Bucky's jaw clenched dangerously, the muscle in his cheek jumping and twitching as he took in his daughter's crass retort. Sam had long since left the scene, the nearly suffocating tension officially too much for him to take. Steve's eyes went wide for what felt like the millionth time since he'd first walked into the kitchen. If he hadn't known something was wrong before, he undoubtedly did now.

You may not disobey him often, but you never snapped at Bucky.

Steve had long since accepted that, though you loved the two of them the same, you'd always liked Bucky more. A daddy's girl from birth, you and Bucky had always been inseparable-- so for you to now scream and curse at him like this was like a flaming-red flag in Steve's mind.

Something was definitely wrong.

"Excuse me?" Bucky hissed. The two of you faced one another, arms crossed and expressions grim. You planted your feet even more solidly underneath you, staring your dad down with a fury so intense it was almost palpable. If it weren't for the overall tension of the situation, Steve might've teased the two of you for your near-mirrored positions.

"Y/N? What's going on, I thought I heard yelling?" Peter asked as he practically skidded into the kitchen. He immediately joined you, face morphing into a look of utter concern at the sight of yours and Bucky's standoff. Steve braced himself, mentally apologizing to Peter for the verbal assault that was surely coming his way.

But it never came.

It was as if all the unwarranted anger was sucked from your body in a rush as soon as you caught sight of your boyfriend. Your face crumpled into an anguished expression, and Steve could see how the tears welled up in your eyes instantaneously. Peter clicked his tongue in pity and you thrust yourself instantly into his awaiting arms. He gripped you tightly, and you eagerly buried yourself further into his embrace. Face smashed tightly against his chest, you began to sob uncontrollably.

Your dads gaped at the scene, wide-eyed.

"S-sam ate my oreos a-and now everyone's mad at me, and I j-just wanted my snack!" you all but wailed, voice muffled by Peter's body.

Bucky blinked once as he turned to his husband, total confusion written all over his features. Steve just gaped in response, unable to formulate a semi-coherent thought, let alone words.

"Oh angel, it's okay," Peter cooed softly into your hair, hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly as you continued to cry. "I can go and get you more oreos; don't cry Y/N/N, I'll just run down to the store right now to get you some."

Lifting your head from his chest, you seemed slightly placated and hopeful as you sniffled and looked up at him.

"C-can I come with you?" you asked him shyly, tear-stained cheeks turning a slight shade of pink at your childish request. Peter smiled fondly down at you, clearly happy to see that you were feeling better.

"Of course, it'll be nice to walk with you," he smiled sweetly at you and lightly kissed your nose. You giggled as you removed yourself from his embrace before walking over to your dads.

"M'sorry I shouted daddys. Love you guys!" you apologized in a chipper voice before kissing both of the men's bewildered cheeks.

The two supersoldiers both stood in stunned silence as they watched you leave hand in hand with Peter, who briefly shot them an apologetic look before the pair were gone. Steve thought he heard Peter mumbling something to Y/N as they left, but the only words he could pick out were "not good to get so worked up", which only confused him further.

"What in the hell was that?" Bucky grumbled, face still crinkled with bewilderment. Steve simply shook his head.

"I have absolutely no idea. I've never seen her behave like that, have you?"

"Nothing like that, but she was acting funny the other day too," he frowned, recalling the scene he'd walked in on just a few days prior. "She was full out sobbing on the couch a few days ago over a toilet paper commercial."

Steve gaped at his husband.

"Sh-she...what?"

"Doll have you seen your Pops? I can't find him any-"

Bucky's question died in his throat as soon as he hit the threshold of the TV room. You were curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees as sobs racked through you. Peter sat next to you with his eyes crinkled in concern and hands rubbing gently at your shoulders as you cried.

"Y/N what's wrong, why are you crying?" Bucky asked. Feeling his protective instincts kick in instantly, he couldn't help but search the room with his eyes in search of any danger. Finding nothing, he narrowed his eyes at your boyfriend.

"Did he do something?" Bucky demanded. "Parker I swear to God if you hurt her I-"

"What? N-no I didn't do anything Mr. Bucky I swear!" Peter spluttered, eyes widening in fear at the terrifying look in your dad's eyes.

"Bullshit, then why's she crying like that? Of course you did someth-"

"N-no it's not P-peter dad!" you interrupted tearfully. "There was an ad on TV that just made me emotional okay? You know, the one with the boy crying in the bathroom and his dad offers him toilet paper for his tears?"

There was a beat of silence.

"Doll, you really mean to tell me that you're sobbing over a toilet paper ad?" Bucky asked, brows furrowed in disbelief. You sniffled as you nodded, and fresh tears began to pick your eyes once more.

"Yes! I mean it's just so inspiring," you blubbered. "I mean how often do you actually get to see a teenaged boy cry on TV? Never, cause toxic masculinity standards in this stupid patriarchal society we all live in say otherwise! And not only does the dad accept that his son is crying and is allowed to feel real emotions, he sits down to talk with him about them! I just got so happy thinking about all the little boys who will see this ad and feel the validation that they're normal for feeling sad every once in a while!"

Bucky just stared at his daughter with a blank look for a moment; he looked like he was unable to formulate a single response to the information he'd just been given.

"Well that's...uh….that's great I gue-"

"I can't believe you would just assume that me crying just had to be because of something Peter did," you interrupted, angrily brushing the leftover tears from your face. "It's so unfair, you always blame him for everything!"

"I-uh," Bucky stammered, flustered by the sudden change in your emotions. You scoffed and stood quickly from your spot in Peter's embrace, crossing your arms petulantly.

"It's true dad, you're always looking for something to yell at him for! It's so biased and unfair," you practically yelled. "Honestly it's such prejudiced bullshit. Some kind of outdated 'lock up your daughters' rhetoric that I can't believe yo…"

At some point during your impassioned speech you began stomping away from both your dad and Peter while still ranting. As your shouts became fainter and fainter Bucky found himself directing his dumbfounded expression at Peter instead. In a rare show of solidarity with your boyfriend, Bucky silently begged for an explanation as to what on earth had just happened.

Despite the way his heart was hammering wildly in his chest Peter remained silent. He offered only a passive shrug to your dad before he clambered to his feet and began following after you. If Bucky hadn't been caught so off guard he surely would've been suspicious at the visible sweat that was beading on Peter's forehead and the way the young boy's hands trembled as he quickly left the room, the question of what was causing your mood swings laying thickly unanswered in the air.

"What the fu-"

"She...a toilet paper ad? Really?"

"Yep, a friggin' toilet paper commercial," Bucky nodded solemnly. Steve blinked once, shaking his head.

"So what did you do?" he asked incredulously.

"Nothin'," Bucky shrugged. "She was so damned worked up that I figured she needed some space, and by the time I went to talk to her she'd already seemed completely fine. Thought it wasn't worth upsetting her all over again."

Steve snorted.

"Yeah right, you were just too scared you would make her mad again," he chuckled.

"Hell yeah I was," Bucky admitted freely, crossing his arms and shooting his husband a defiant expression. "You've seen her, you know how terrifying she can be when she's pissed!"

Steve chuckled once more, shaking his head fondly.

"Mmmm, and I wonder where she got that from."

Bucky narrowed his eyes and scowled at the implication, a surly look overtaking his features. Steve couldn't help but laugh outright at the expression on his husband's face; it was the exact same face you always made when you were annoyed, right down to the little pout in your lip.

"For the last time Stevie, she doesn't get that from me," he grumbled.

"Sure Buck, whatever you say," Steve laughed.

Though your odd behavior and mood swings were at least now on both your dads' radar, neither had any clue as to the actual reason for your sudden changes. The pair of them chalked up the incidents to little more than teenaged angst, however they had no idea how wrong they were nor just how soon they were about to find out what was really going on.

---------------------------

"I don't understand Y/N," Steve stated carefully. "Why exactly don't you want to go with the team?"

You shifted your weight from foot to foot anxiously, huffing out a breath in mock annoyance and very real frustration.

You'd been in the training room, lightly working out with Nat and Wanda when your Pops and Tony had walked in to announce that there was an urgent mission that apparently would require the entire team. Internally cursing your timing, you'd tried to sneak out of the room unnoticed, but as your luck would have it, your dad caught you. Now you were stuck arguing with your dads, the attention and curiosity of everyone in the gym directed at you.

Your heart was thrumming wildly in your chest as you furiously racked your brain for some way, any way, out of this assignment and this conversation without an actual reason.

Well, a reason you were actually willing to give, that is.

"Why does it even matter?" you snapped, hoping that no one clocked the tremor in your voice. "It's not like you guys even need me anyways."

"Doll, you always jump at the chance to come with us," your dad interjected. "So what's so different about today?"

"I just don't want to," you whined, lying through your teeth. "I'm tired and I don't feel good."

"But you were literally just training?" Sam pointed out. You narrowed your eyes at him, irritation bubbling under the surface of your anxiety at the contradiction. The older man shrank back a bit under your firey gaze, the previous incident in the kitchen clearly prominent in his mind as he stepped behind Wanda.

Clint snorted.

"If you could even call that training," he mumbled under his breath. Your jaw dropped.

"What is this, gang up on Y/N day?!" you sassed as your arms flew to cross your chest defensively. Your Pops shook his head.

"We're just worried Y/N/N," he reassured, brows furrowed with concern. "You've been behaving very strangely lately, and this is just one more thing."

"Yeah doll," Bucky nodded, agreeing with his husband. "So what gives?"

Your pulse sped up once more at the direct question, a sickening feeling rising in your throat like bile at the realization of just how suspicious your dads were. Unable to think clearly through your panic, you did the only thing you could think of.

You scoffed in fake disbelief, rolled your eyes, and began stomping out of the room.

"Y/N Barnes-Rodgers!" your dad shouted in an indignant and angered tone. "We are not done talking about this!"

Damn.

"What?!" you whirled around, stomping your foot like a child. "I just don't want to go this time okay?"

Bucky's face turned red at your open defiance, but Steve interrupted before he could even open his mouth to snap back at you.

"No Y/N it's absolutely not okay," he scolded. You felt the burn of unshed tears prick your eyes as they searched desperately around the room, mind racing to think of an excuse that would get you out of this situation.

"But-"

"No, no buts Y/N," your dad barked, clearly having composed himself enough to speak once more. His arms were crossed as he glared at you, and the stubbornly annoyed look on his face was enough to make the tears in your eyes begin to fall. A feeling of utter entrapment and fear settled in your chest like a suffocating weight as you felt the hot, fresh tears stream down your cheeks.

"Doll, are you crying?" your Pops questioned incredulously. "What on earth is going on with you?"

"Nothing! I just can't go today," you blubbered, past the point of being able to hold back your sobs.

"You can't go, or you won't go?" Bucky asked pointedly, evidently not swayed by your tears.

"It doesn't matter," you cried desperately. Your dad's eyes bored into yours directly as if he was searching your brain to find out what you were holding back from him.

"It clearly does matter, otherwise you wouldn't be acting like this," he continued harshly. "I'm not sure what it is you aren't telling us, but I don't even care at this point. Stark said he needs everyone and your Pops told you to go, so you need to get yourself together and go and get ready."

The tears were now cascading down your face in giant streams and your face was growing warmer by the second. You darted your gaze back and forth between the other team members' faces, still searching for some kind of last minute way out of this situation. Finding only curious or concerned expressions, you turned back to your dads with wide eyes. You felt your mouth go dry as your lips open and closed wordlessly, the severity of your current predicament weighing you down more and more by the second.

"I-"

"No. I don't want to hear another word from you Y/N," your dad snapped. "Go and get ready for the mission now."

"But she can't go!"

Time stopped for a split second as the entire room's heads snapped towards the desperate shout.

Peter had only just entered the training room, wondering where everyone was, when he caught the tail end of your dad's order. He couldn't help but blurt the first thing that'd come to mind, the implication of which only dawned on him afterwards. As he rushed to your side he shot you a sheepish look, and you internally cringed a bit at his slip.

Even though you were certain Peter's involvement would only further reduce your already slim chances of getting out of this mission without a full confession of what was really going on, you couldn't help but feel an inkling of relief as his eyes locked with yours. His hand immediately intertwined itself with yours once he'd reached you, and your belly fluttered with a warm tinge of comfort with the simple touch.

True, things were probably about to go sideways for the both of you, but at least Peter was here to go through it by your side.

"Excuse me Parker?" your dad spat incredulously, eyes blazing with anger at your boyfriend's outburst. "I don't recall asking you for your opinion on my daughter or what she can or can't do."

Peter stood a little taller as he looked Bucky straight in the eyes with an unprecedented amount of determination.

"She can't go." he practically growled, eyes stern and unyielding as he openly defied your dad. He was standing a half-step in front of you, tense back partially shielding you from the rest of the team as he spoke.

Even with his face turned the opposite direction you could see from his profile the way his brows were furrowed and how dark his normally chocolate brown eyes had gotten. You felt a slight shiver run up your spine at the fiercely protective energy Peter was radiating, and your heart felt a bit lighter at the way he stood up to your dad on your behalf. You squeezed his hand in an effort to ground him, and he softened marginally as he glanced back at you.

Your dad however looked as if he might combust soon based on the way his eyes bulged out and his face turned a concerning shade of red.

"What's that supposed to mean Peter?" Steve interjected carefully, his hand reaching up to rest comfortingly on his husband's shoulder.

"It means exactly what we said," Peter said firmly. "Y/N cannot go on this mission today."

The team watched the interaction between you, Peter, and your dads with their heads bouncing back and forth between the four of you like they were watching a tennis match. Not a word had been uttered from a single one of them, and yet they stood completely transfixed as they waited patiently to see the outcome of the argument.

"And why, pray tell, is that Parker?" your dad hissed, scowl etched across his features.

Peter's eyes traveled to yours, irises swimming with a silent question. Realizing that there was no way out, you took a steadying breath as you nodded softly and squeezed his hand once more in reassurance. Peter smiled at you fondly before dropping his smile and turning back to your parents.

"She can't go because...it could be bad for the baby."

You could've heard a pin drop in the training room. No one made a sound, no one even dared to breathe. The shock in the room was palpable, but you couldn't be bothered to even glance at anyone other than your dads, their reactions the only two that mattered to you in this moment.

Though you'd expected a rather explosive reaction from your parents (especially from your dad), you were met instead with blank stares. Your dads were simply staring at you and Peter in stunned silence, and their lack of a response actually frightened you more than the screaming you'd been anticipating for weeks now. The beat of silence seemed to stretch on eternally, though in reality it was probably no more than thirty seconds. You watched nervously, your hand becoming sweaty in Peter's as you waited. Finally, your Pops blinked and opened his mouth cautiously.

"Bad for the wha-"

"I SWEAR TO GOD PARKER THAT'D BETTER BE SOME KIND OF DISGUSTING PET NAME FOR MY DAUGHTER."

Ahhh. There it was.

Your dad had clearly broken through his frozen thoughts enough to respond, and you would've laughed if you weren't so terrified. He looked positively furious; his eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them and his face had darkened from red to an almost purple color that looked painful to say the least. His murderous gaze was hyper-fixated on Peter, and you couldn't help but step in front of your poor boyfriend in an effort to take some of the heat off him.

Peter, evidently, was having none of that, and he frowned before pulling you backwards and tucking you into his side tightly. If you hadn't been so focused on your dad right now you might've rolled your eyes at his over-protectiveness. Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of his embrace as you took a steadying breath.

"It's not," you responded as calmly as you could manage while your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your throat. "I'm pregnant."

Silence enveloped the room once more, and you could've sworn it was even more awkward than the first time. It must've been, because you could see Nat and Wanda ushering the rest of the team out of the gym out of the corner of your eye. You weren't quite sure if you were grateful for the privacy or more scared of how your dads would react now that you were alone.

Your dads stared at you and Peter with wildly different expressions. Steve was staring off into space and looking as if he was either going to throw up or pass out soon, and Bucky still looked as if he was about a half a second away from murdering Peter with his bare hands. To his credit, Peter was still standing by your side with the same look of determination as before despite this, but you could feel the way his pulse was hammering through his veins as he too carefully surveyed your dads' reactions.

You stood quietly, trying to be patient as you watched them, but the suspense and anticipation quickly became overwhelming and you couldn't help but blurt,

"Say something!"

Though both their gazes snapped up to your face with your plea, yet neither your dad nor you Pops said anything. You were suddenly overcome with the urge to explain yourself.

"I know that you're probably in shock or angry or maybe both- and honestly that's completely fair!" You rambled breathlessly. "I know we're still only eighteen, but I really think everything's gonna be okay? Really, I do. And I'm so sorry about today, believe me this isn't how we planned on telling you at all bu-"

"You're not coming on the mission," Steve interrupted, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "Nor is Peter. Your dad and I will be back later, and we're all going to have a long discussion."

It felt like all the air was sucked out of your body as you watched your Pops pull your dad towards the training room exit. You hadn't been fully sure of just how you were going to tell them, but never in your wildest dreams did you imagine that it would come out like this. Tears once more welling up in your eyes, your heart sank as you realized just how disappointed and angry they were.

"I love you," your voice cracked as you called to their retreating forms, unable to bear the sight of them leaving without reminding them. They both paused in the doorway, and without turning back both muttered that they loved you too before they were gone.

As soon as they left you immediately twisted yourself and thrust your face into Peter's chest, the tears flowing steadily as you sobbed. He wrapped his arms tightly around your shaking form, lips finding the crown of your head and hands rubbing soothingly across your back.

"Th-they hate me now," you whispered brokenly into Peter's soft hoodie in between sobs. "They hate me Pete, they're n-never going to forgive me for this!"

Peter shushed you quietly, gentle lips kissing your hair as he began to sway you back and forth slowly.

"They don't hate you angel," he soothed. "They're just surprised. Disappointed in the timing maybe, but they'll get over it. I promise."

"I never wanted it to go like this," you cried as you pulled your head from his chest slightly. Peter's hands left your back for a moment to come and rest on either of your cheeks. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead before retreating upwards to look deep into your eyes.

"I know you didn't sweet girl, but it did," he said gently as he brushed away some of your tears with the pads of his thumbs. "It did and it's going to be okay. We'll talk to your dads when they get back and clear everything up. And no matter what, you and I are going to get through this together, okay?"

You sniffled softly, nodding sadly. Peter's eyes were swimming with guilt and dejection at the sight of the empty expression on your face. He didn't know how to comfort you in this situation, but it was like every molecule in his body was demanding he do so. He leaned down once more to press a loving kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, your nose, and finally your lips.

You sighed, head retreating back to his chest once your lips disconnected. Sadness was still swirling in your stomach and you just longed for the feeling that being in Peter's arms brought. He seemed to understand perfectly- as he always did- pressing his cheek to the top of your head and wrapping his arms tightly around you without a word. The two of you stood there for a while, bodies entangled as you continued lightly swaying back and forth. Peter's hands continued to roam up and down your spine and your tears began to slow and dry.

Eventually you hummed, stepping back and up on your toes to press an appreciative kiss to Peter's face. He smiled as a faint pink tinted his cheeks at your display of affection. You giggled, slightly amazed that even after everything you two had done, something as simple as a peck on the cheek could still make him blush.

"Thank you," you said quietly, looking up into his eyes. He quirked an eyebrow at you in confusion.

"For staying with me through all that. I mean it's you, so I wasn't really worried...but my dad can be really frightening. So thanks," you half joked.

Peter chuckled lightly as he pulled you back into his arms once more.

"Of course angel. Told you, I'm never going to leave you. Even if your dad is super scary. You two are stuck with me now. I'm never ever going to leave you or our baby," he vowed quietly into your hair as his hands reached down to rub the small but growing bump in your tummy lovingly. "We're gonna get through this all together, as a family."

You felt tears well up in your eyes once more, but this time out of sheer love and happiness.

Damned hormones.

"You're gonna be such a good daddy Peter," you whispered gratefully. Hearing the slight crack in your voice, Peter pulled you away from his chest gently to wipe your tear stained cheeks once more.

"Hey now, no more tears today," he scolded playfully as he tugged you across the room. "When's the last time you ate something? We have the whole kitchen to ourselves now, and I bet my babies are hungry!"

You chuckled lightly as you allowed him to pull you along with him towards the kitchen. All the while, he chattered happily about the new article he'd just read about the specific nutritional needs pregnant women have, and your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness. You were still apprehensive about the upcoming conversation with your dads, but you were definitely feeling better. As much as their approval and involvement would mean to you, you'd come to the conclusion that as long as you had Peter by your side everything would work out alright.

Somehow.

---------------------------

"Petey, are you sure you don't need any-"

"No! Nope. I've got this," your boyfriend interrupted stubbornly. You signed, hand absentmindedly rubbing across your swollen stomach as you watched him struggle with the latch on the new crib the two of you were setting up.

Well, the crib that Peter was setting up.

It'd been a few months since the team had found out about the newest upcoming addition to the Tower, and you'd decided that it was time to begin decorating the nursery. Tony, of course, had offered to have someone come in to do all the heavy lifting, but Peter was insistent that he be the one to set everything up. His protectiveness over you and the rapidly growing child you were carrying had only increased as the months went on, so much so that you were lucky now if he'd even let you stand for long enough to watch him put the baby's furniture together. It was endearing, really, how much he cared for the two of you, but you'd be lying if you said that you weren't becoming a little frustrated with how little you could do to help.

"Really Peter, I can help," you grumbled, annoyed. "I'm pregnant, not disabled."

"Of course you could help angel, but I don't need help," he grunted, eyes never leaving the mass of parts around him. "You already have to do all the work of growing and housing our baby, the least I can do is build the crib!"

"Housing?" you teased, quirking an eyebrow.

"You know what I meant," he grumbled, and you couldn't help but chuckle at his growing frustration.

Peter was clearly losing his grip just a bit as he struggled to make sense of the instructions that had been provided with the pieces. He sighed, throwing the pamphlet down on the ground before trudging over to where you stood, leaning against the changing table that he'd put together a few days ago.

"I've engineered web-fluid from absolutely nothing, re-built computers from scratch and yet I can't even manage to put this stupid bed together," he whined as he dropped his head down onto your shoulder in defeat. "M'gonna be a terrible father."

"Ohhh bubs," you cooed sympathetically, smile falling quickly and heart lurching at the tone of pure dejection in his voice.

You wrapped your arms around him, one snaking around his back and the other cradling his head. Your fingers began instantly carding through his chocolate-brown locks as he nuzzled his nose lightly into the junction of your neck and shoulder. His hands wound their way around your waist too- or as well as they could with your round tummy in the way- and his own hands began absentmindedly tracing patterns over your bump.

"Peter you have to know that isn't true," you soothed, kissing his cheek softly. "You're going to be an amazing dad."

He hummed non-commitally.

"You think you're not?" you challenged, fingers halting their dance against his scalp. "Do the thing."

He raised his head from your shoulder, brows furrowed in confusion.

"What does that have to do with-"

"Do the thing," you interrupted sternly. He sighed and knelt down, grumbling inaudible complaints as he went. Once he was face to face with your bump he placed his hands on either side, thumbs rubbing soft circles into your stretched-out skin.

"Hi baby, it's me, your daddy," he spoke softly into your stomach, lips so close that you shivered with each breath that ghosted over your clothed belly. "I love you so much."

The baby responded instantly at the sound of Peter's voice, feet jabbing out and kicking excitedly from within just underneath where his hands lay. You felt your heart skip a beat at both the feeling the movement in your belly and the sight of the dopey smile that lit up Peter's handsome face as he felt his child's kicks. You rubbed over his hands lovingly and smiled down at him.

"See bubs? He starts throwing a party in there every time you do that. He loves you so much already, that's not gonna change," you reassured him softly. Peter's smile dropped just a little.

"But the crib-"

"Fuck the crib," you responded stubbornly. "You are the most caring, sweetest, and most thoughtful person I know Peter. You're going to be the world's best dad."

"Whoa whoa, believe we're the ones with the mugs that claim that title," a voice chuckled from the doorway.

You smiled fondly, eyes darting to find the sight of your Pops leaning casually against the frame of the door with your dad standing just behind him. Both had amused smiles on their faces, and you grinned widely. Even Peter smiled as he rose to his feet and wrapped one of his arms around your back to pull you into his side.

"Okay, third best dad in the world then," you amended, grinning.

"That's better," your dad piped up, smiling. "Now what's this I hear about a faulty crib? Sam said he can hear Peter cursing all the way from his room."

Peter groaned, tilting his head backwards in exasperation as you laughed out loud.

"It isn't faulty, I'm just an idiot," Peter grumbled. Everyone but him chuckled, and your dad walked further into the room. He clapped a hand on Peter's back as he grinned at the younger man.

"Normally I'd agree with you, but I know if I do Steve will bring up how Y/N had to sleep in the bassinet for like 6 months because we couldn't figure out how to put her crib together."

"You mean you couldn't figure it out," your Pops snorted from his place in the doorway. "As I recall, I was not allowed to help with the furniture because you were determined to figure it out on your own."

Bucky shrugged, seemingly indifferent to his husband's insinuation.

"Whatever. Point is, I wanted to see if you wanted some help putting it together. Thought I might be able to give you some tips," your dad continued. Peter's smile widened, and he nodded eagerly before your dad knelt down to help try and make sense of the directions.

The discussion after the incident in the training room had gone much better than you would've ever imagined. Both your dads had been relatively calm once they'd returned from their mission, and surprisingly there had been no screaming, no crying, and no threats towards Peter from Bucky like you'd been picturing. The four of you had sat down together and had a long, mature discussion of what your plans were in terms of raising and caring for your child, and by the end your dads had even seemed enthusiastic about the prospect of being grandparents. Their involvement and excitement had only grown in the following months to the point now that you felt silly for ever having been frightened to tell them.

And now as you stood watching your boyfriend and dad work together to put your child's room together, tears began collecting in your eyes and you felt your chest warm with feelings of overwhelming love. Steve, noticing your tears, moved to wrap his arms around you and you leaned your head against his shoulder. Rubbing your belly lovingly, you couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude wash over you for the men in your life and love for the little one that you'd all be meeting soon.

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songbirdsingingthings · 3 years

Text

You and Your Everything - Shouto Todoroki x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

MHA Masterlist - Main Masterlist

WARNINGS: Your parents being the absolute worst, a few minor curse words, a lil angsty

Requested by Anonymous:

HI i love your writing and i saw that your requests were open? i was wondering if you could do like a shoto x reader but instead y/ns parents are like the opposite of shoto and endeavor? like for an example how shoto wants nothing to do with his dad and and all y/n wants to do is please her parents or make them happy since they never pay attention to her like that? both house holds are still toxic but i feel like thatd be an interesting dynamic

A/N: This was so interesting and cool to write! Obviously, the subject matter was much angstier and sadder than a lot of the stuff I have written, but I found writing this, like, entire paragraph of dialogue of Shouto (you’ll know it when you see it) to be so entirely incredible. I just kept on writing. Thank you so much for this awesome rec!

Word Count: 1.8K

“You’ve reached the voicemail of Kana Y/L/N. Please leave a message. BEEP”

“Hi Mom, it’s me again. Just calling to remind you that third years are allowed to reserve a box for their parents in the Sports Festival arena! I saved one for you and Dad in the front row, which are the best seats in the whole place. The Festival takes place tomorrow, as I told you guys about three months ago so you could put it on your calendars. I’m, uh, looking forward to seeing you again! Love you, bye!” Pressing the red circle that represented an “end call” button, you heaved a sigh and looked through your recent calls. Nine recent calls that your mother had missed within the last three days. Ten that your father had. They’re just busy, you tell yourself, trying to ease your mind. They’re just busy right now, but they had said that they’d come. They’ll come. Your thoughts had consumed you to such a point you didn’t even register the little nudges to your side.

“.../N? Y/N?” You blinked quickly to rid your consciousness of its prior dilemma and turn your head to the side. With heterochromatic eyes blinking fondly at you matched with a slight frown of concern, your boyfriend prompts the same question that had earlier feel upon deaf ears. “Y/N, I was asking if you are alright. You seemed a little… not here when I asked you just a minute ago.” Shouto’s voice, like always, is level, however little hints of emotion always tend to slip in between the cracks of his pronunciations. Like now, for instance, you hear the traces of worry cling onto his words.

“Oh, sorry, I was just leaving a voicemail.” You say simply. The sentence that left your mouth would seem normal to any person that you were friendly with. However, Shouto knew the implications. His shoulders seemed to tense as he took your hand. You squeeze his hand to reassure him. “Don’t worry Sho, they’re just really busy people. I’m sure they definitely carved time out of their schedules to come and watch me. I just need to make sure I get into the tournament round so I don’t waste their time.” You say, laughing a little dryly. Shouto doesn’t smile at the joke you made at your own expense.

“I just don’t get it.” He says, which makes your smile drop into a frown. “Why do you try so hard for them.” Your spine straightens at his words and your grip on his hand loosens. “Y/N, they’re awful people-”

“They’re my parents and I want to make them proud.” You say swiftly, a slight grimace on your face. Silence settles between the two of you, that is, until you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. Jumping up immediately and grabbing your phone, you take a glance at the caller ID. Your heart sinks as you see it’s a random telemarketer, and click decline call. You look back to your boyfriend, which was a mistake, because his eyes pooled with pity. Not feeling quite right in the space you were in, you grab your school bag and stuff your phone the furthest down it would go. “I’m going to go freshen up before dinner.” You decide, nodding towards Shouto and walking away a bit.

“Do you want me to come with you?” His suggestion on a normal basis would make your face flush and your heart beat a bit faster, however today you just wanted to be alone for a bit.

“No, it’s okay, I’ll see you at dinner.” You say quickly.

“Y/N.” His grip came softly around your wrist, tugging you back a bit to face him. “I’m… I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I just love you,” he said those last two words a bit softer than the others, “and I want to see you happy.” Butterflies took flight in the pit of your stomach as you held Shouto’s gaze, his heartfelt and earnest words weighing heavily within your heart. Your frown wobbles into a smile as you lean in to place a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I know.”

“Did you see me out there?!” You cheer, careening down the arena hallway towards where Shouto was waiting with open arms. You leapt directly into them and was quickly picked up and spun around in a little circle.

“I did, you were incredible.” Shouto gushes, his cheek squished against yours. You laughed joyously as you felt his arms squeeze you closer to him, your heart racing with both leftover adrenaline from your second round tournament match and the feeling of love from your boyfriend. However, your laughter and the embrace you were tucked into died down when you heard the faint clearing of a throat, causing both of you to turn towards the sound. If you were looking into a mirror, you’re sure you would see your eyes grow to the size of saucers and your jaw dropping just a tad at the sight before you. There, standing about ten paces away, were your parents. Your mother, with her hair tied back in an uncomfortable looking bun with her freshly pressed pencil skirt and matching career jacket. Your father at her side, his suit and pants looking as sharp as ever. And the expressions they held…

“M-mother? Father? You two made it?” You stammer out, dumbfounded at their appearance. “But I, uh, didn’t see either of you in the stands.” You admit, earning a nonchalant expression from both parents.

“Well, with that lackluster performance that you executed, did you really think we would want to show our faces? It’s bad enough our colleagues know of you and all your little failures that you like to categorize as triumphs. Honestly, you really thought that we would want to be on camera for the entire world to see?” Your mother’s bored tone and biting words struck you hard. You felt your spine straighten and your hands stick to your side as you bit the inside of your cheek.

“But… I won.” You said, so soft that the sound of someone’s heartbeat could overpower it. If your gaze wasn’t stuck to your parents’ forms, you would have seen Shouto’s eyebrows narrow, awaiting for the oncoming onslaught.

“Good Lord, you want to call that a win? It makes me wonder how you ever got into this school or passed any physical examination in your class.” Your father’s tone, just as bored and apathetic as your mother’s, sent trembles down your spine. You clenched your fists and jaw to try and prevent crying. But, of course, it was of no use. The tears trickled their way, one by one, down your cheek like raindrops on a car window.

“And you’re crying now. Fantastic.” Your mother retorts, turning her to your father now. “I told you we should have sent her directly to the Hero Public Safety Commission. Would’ve toughened her up in no time-”

“CAN’T YOU SEE SHE’S UPSET?!” You almost didn’t recognize his voice. The soft spoken, pensive Shouto Todoroki that you knew to be your boyfriend rarely got upset. When he did, it was almost always in the middle of a battle or fight, just as he was about to use a special move. But this time, it was pure rage and anger that clung onto his words. Your parents, now sprouting an expression of slight surprise turned their attention to the seething red-and-white haired boy at your side. “All she ever does is work to make you happy. Day and night, twenty-four seven, it’s for you. And now here you come, strutting back into her life with some agenda on how she should fight and how much of a so-called failure she is?! Well screw that! You don’t get to have an opinion when it comes to her! She has been trying to get a hold of both of you for months on end and getting no more than the same damn message from your voicemails, telling her that you’re too busy for her!” Shouto’s face was red now. His fists were balled up and the tiniest flecks of flames were flaking from his left side. “And then, you’re now finally here, and you come with this holier-than-thou attitude! Y/N L//N, your daughter, is the most incredible and capable person I have met in my entire life. The fact that a person like her can rise like a phoenix from the ashes that is your attitudes and parenting styles is a miracle, because in every way, shape and form, she will forever be a marvel. To me, to our classmates, and to the entire world. I just can’t wait to see the look on your sorry asses when the time comes for her to give her thank you speech after becoming the number one hero, and you don’t hear either of your names mentioned once.” The silence is deafening after Shouto finishes speaking. You feel your whole body trembling and can recognize that there are tears falling down past your cheeks, but nothing else. Nothing else, until that constricting feeling that you felt bound to you to your parents’ approval starts to loosen the moment Shouto takes your hand in his.

“Let’s go.” Your words, merely more than a whisper, is all it takes for Shouto to wrap and arm around your waist as he marches past your dumbstruck parents, towards a private room. The second Shouto clicks the lock shut, you let yourself break down. Sobs racked your body as you clung onto his shirt, his arm, and his love. “They’re supposed to be my parents. How… I can’t even do anything.” You hiccup into his tear-stained gym uniform, the one identical to yours (without the blotches of tears).

“Hey, shh, you’re okay. You’re fine.” Shouto says, his reassuring words grounding you. “You will get through this whole… mess, okay? I know you can. All you need to do is take it one day at a time.” You nod into his chest and let your head lie there as the tears finally started to cease from falling.

“You, uh, probably have to get ready for your match, right?” You sniff, moving one of your hands up to your face to rub at your nose.

“I’m fine here.” Shouto says, wrapping his arms around you. “Y/N, you really were incredible out there. Do not let them make you think otherwise.” You nod again as you feel Shouto begin to play lightly with your hair. “You are enough. More than, in fact. They might think otherwise, but I don’t. I love you, and your smile, and your everything.” You were too fried emotionally to say anything back, but Shouto knew. He knew that it would take time to finally break from your parents’ psychological hold over you and that he would always be there at your side.

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tteokdoroki · 3 years

Note

hello! if you’re still doing these could i please request 7 with Bakugou?

if you’re not taking them pls delete !! 💕

katsuki bakugou x gn!reader.

tteokdoroki teaparty event masterpost!!

♡ prompt #7 — reader has a secret admirer, character of choice doesn’t know how to confess.

♡ genre: everyone, fluff + slight angst.

♡ word count: 1.8K

♡ warnings: cursiing!

♡ author’s notes: thank you for requestiing my lovely !!

yet again, warmth spreads underneath your skin and across your chest at the sight of the chocolates displayed cutely across your desk. for the last week or so, you’d received a flurry of gifts from an unknown admirer— each attached to a sweet note, written with such deep feelings that every time you read one your heart thumped loudly in your chest.

“let me guess, another one?” mina swoons from your right, joining you in the empty classroom for the day ahead. pink hair tickles at the junction between your head and your shoulder as she reaches for the box of sweets in your grip— you don’t bother putting up a fight, knowing she’d take it from you anyway. “that’s like the third time this week, yn.”

bowing your head shyly, you run your fingers over the small note that lays unfolded on your desk. ‘for you, i’d do anything.’ it reads and you wonder for the umpteenth time; you out of all of classmates is capable of writing such a thing. “i know, i really wish i knew who’s sending them— no ones ever quite done something like this for me before.” you voice is quiet and hopeful, a contrast to the bustling energetic babbles that come from your third year classmates as they filter in for the day ahead. you scan them all to look for a possible source, knowing that your heart could belong to anyone of them.

“it’s gotta be deku!” kaminari cuts through your train of thought like a knife through butter— throwing his arm around your shoulders as he plucks the box of chocolates from mina’s grip, much to her annoyance. “he’s like the sweetest dude in the class, there’s no way it could be anyone else. we’re not capable of cute shit like that.” you roll your eyes and allow your friend to tear open the box for a morning treat but let your gaze slip over to where izuku chats animatedly with ochako. not him.

jirou is next to speak, ripping the box from the blonde to take it to her desk beside yours. kaminari whines as the girl divides up the sweet snacks for, taking one for both herself and mina. chaos is ensuing and yet again, your friends are the centre of it. “nah, my bet’s on sato...how else would yn be getting so many sweet treats every day?”

the group falls silent, mulling over the choice as you finally take a seat and swipe one of the chocolates for yourself. popping it into your mouth, you huff in frustration.

“doesn’t make sense, everything gifted to me so far has been insanely exclusive or expensive...some are even my favourites from abroad and— i don’t speak to sato enough for him to know them...“ you admit, pawing your cheeks with embarrassment.

“maybe it’s kirishima then! you guys are always together and he kinda seems like the romantic type..?” your pink haired friend suggests and the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. it was true, you were both always together— even if it was in the presence of others like bakugou and kaminari— and had more than enough in common, from music tastes to gaming. you could see the hardening hero as someone you’d go for as well, eijirou was an obvious choice. “what do you think, bakugou?”

you peek up from the note ( neatly folded ) and box of chocolates ( now returned ) that sit on your desk, catching the arrival of your final three friends. bakugou, sero and kirishima himself. you feel body flush with warmth as you catch the latter’s ruby eyed gaze and give him a small wave accompanied by a smile; that kirishima quickly returns.

the blonde however, tsks at mina’s question before making his way to his seat. you considered yourself and katsuki to be good friends; it was usually quiet whenever you too were around one another which was a nice change of pace from his usual rowdy personality— but the majority of your time with each other was spent with him teasing you for your quirk.

“‘m callin’ bullshit. whoever this is should hurry up and face how they feel. the candy shit is stupid.” bakugou growls out, throwing his backpack onto the desk; ready to begin class. in all three years of knowing him, he’d never showed any signs of romantic interest towards anyone in your class, especially you. meaning that your admirer, definitely bakugou.

you turn away from him and your group of friends to face the board, ignoring how they scold him for his harsh words. “right, stupid...” you sigh quietly, just as aizawa enters the room.

ever since your brief conversation with the explosive boy himself, bakugou had been increasingly rude to you throughout the day and it was starting to get on your last nerves. at first, it had been subtle— bumping you in the corridors between classes, pretending he didn’t have an extra pen for you when you knew that he carried spares for your friends who often forgot and then he’d straight up ignored your invitation to study during lunch like you usually did.

you figured that the blonde was having a bad day, bakugou was never usually this harsh to you and you could talk it out with him later. this behaviour was something you hadn’t seen from your friend since first year, and you almost believed that something else had been bothering him— until he almost blew you high into the sky during hero training that afternoon. of course you called him out on it, yelling at him in front of the entire class as your frustrations finally bubbled over but bakugou remained straight faced— leading to your current predicament.

aizawa thought it was best for the two of you to work things out over cleaning duties after school— something you thought you’d been well past seeing as you were third years now. mature, grown up third years who knew how to talk about their problems. apparently, katsuki bakugou was not one of them. even while you rearranged chairs and swept under desks, he still managed to crawl under your skin with petty remarks and hums of disapproval.

it’s only when you realised that katsuki had been actively trying to avoid your gaze or rather, your entire presence— that you snapped, dropping the broom you held in your hands and letting it clatter to the floor beside him, ultimately grabbing his attention.

“are you fucking insane—?”

“what the hell is your problem, bakugou?” you slice right through his words, a quiet rage flooding your bloodstream as you glare down at him. the boy himself looks dumbfounded, having never heard you talk to him in such away, before and stops shelving the books he had been holding. “did i do something to you?”

“like I’d let you do anythin’ to piss me off.”

god, he infuriates you. you step closer to the blonde, who stands at least half a head taller than you and shove at his chest as best you can— needing an outlet for your frustrations. “then why have you been acting like an asshole all day? first you blow me off and then you quite literally blow me up, and now? you’re avoiding me?” your fists curl in his untucked shirt, tugging at it as all of your emotions spill out into the space between you. “i don’t know what i did, but it doesn’t mean you get to treat your friend like shit, katsuki. you’ve been so mean to me today!”

bakugou looks away, avoiding your eyes that cloud with a sadness he can’t bare to face. you tell yourself not to cry, hating the way your bottom lip wobbles at his change in attitude. “’m mean to everyone, there’s nothin’ special about you.” he excuses himself, trying to step away from you.

“but not to me, you know that,” your voice shakes, everything you’d held back finally slipping through opened cracks. why was he treating you this way? what had you done to deserve this? you glance up, trying to find his vermillion eyes and the answers that may lie behind them. “you’ve been acting so...so off, since this morning, when mina asked about my admirer. you called it stupid. is it so hard to believe that someone, that kirishima might even like me?” the grip you had on bakugou’s shirt loosens but you remain leaning against him, neither of you daring to breathe. “why should i even care what you think? you’ve never been one for romance...u-unless you count the manga that you read but i don’t know how that would...”

and then your babbling stops, realisation washing over you in heavy waves. bakugou appears visibly tense before you, fist clenching and unclenching by his aides as you process your own train of thought. he hadn’t been mean to you for the sake of it, he had been because he didn’t know how else to express his feelings of jealously. it wasn’t kirishima that had been sending you notes, no— it had been bakugou all along. “how that would relate to me...” you think out loud, feeling him flinch beneath your grip. “k-katsuki...do you have a crush on me?”

“...don’t...” the blonde warns, heat rushing to his cheeks at your very accusation. a smile comes rushing to your cheeks, the familiar warmth finding its way back into your chest. “don’t look at me like that, fucker. i-i’m not good at this emotion shit, you know that and this was easier than talking— yn, stop fucking lookin’ at me like that.”

the almost whine that slips from between katsuki’s lips makes your tummy fill with affectionate butterflies, causing you to finally let go of his poor shirt and throw your arms around him in a tight hug. bakugou hesitates for a moment, trying to decode the situation and decide for himself if this was real— but you decide to do the talking and tell him foot yourself. “can’t help it, not when i feel the same way about you, katsuki.” you knew that no matter who was behind your little gifts and love notes, your heart would belong to your admirer and your admirer alone. with a rush of adrenaline after feeling katsuki return your embrace, you lean up to press a soft lingering kiss to his chapped lips.

he tastes like honey and smoke, feels warm like a soft summer breeze but as your lips love together and speak a thousand unspoken confessions, the pair of you realise that you never want the moment to end. “i meant what i said in that last note,” bakugou hums softly, pressing his forehead to yours and holding you close as if you’re going to disappear or suddenly realise your feelings for him aren’t true. “i’d do anything for you...”

“anything?” for the second time that day, you swoon at the blonde’s words and peck his nose gently.

he nods once, lost in thought before speaking again. “except for buy you those fucking chocolates again. they’re fucking expensive, cost a shitload.”

you snort at that, leaning up to lock lips him again— who needed chocolate when you could kiss katsuki bakugou instead.

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thephantomessoftheopera · 3 years

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Notes on Gaston Leroux‘s „The Phantom of the Opera“ - Epilogue

<< Previous chapter “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known”

-Charles Dickens, “A Tale of Two Cities”

As we are coming to the end of the story, Leroux ties up a few more loose ends in the epilogue.

As for Raoul and Christine, their possible happy ending is only implied by what Erik told the Persian - that they had “taken a northbound train” and were planning to get married in secret. They have disappeared from the world, and Christine never appeared again on stage anywhere. According to Leroux, they might have finally settled in Norway together with Mama Valerius. At first, I thought Leroux might have been confusing Sweden and Norway, but when I did a little research on the name „Daae“, it turns out that the name is actually most prevalent in Norway, with almost no occurrences in Sweden. It is also implied that even if they took that “northbound” train before, Christine took a train back to Paris a few weeks later to return to Erik, because she had the wedding ring on her when she left, and it was finally found on Erik‘s finger.

As Philippe‘s death was deemed to be the consequence of the fight between the two brothers over Raoul’s supposed engagement to Christine, Raoul was a murder suspect - but as his previous testimony had already made him appear a lunatic in the eyes of the Commissary, Philippe‘s death was ultimately pronounced accidental. However, as Parisian society had taken less than kindly to the news of the engagement, I think that the couple would have had a very difficult standing if they had officially married and assumed the now vacant titles of the Count and Countess de Chagny. It is therefore likely that Raoul, having officially disappeared, never claimed his titles and inheritance, and chose the more simple lifestyle that Christine was accustomed to. Leroux concludes the story of Raoul and Christine with the statement that one day, he too might „hear the solitary echoes of the Northland repeat the singing of the woman who knew the Angel of Music''. In the epilogue, the boundaries between the „false“ and the „real“ Angel of Music become blurred, as Leroux repeatedly speaks of Erik as the “Angel of Music” - indicating that maybe, just maybe, Erik truly was the Angel of Music.

After following up on Raoul and Christine, Leroux relates how he obtained proof of Erik‘s existence from the Persian, mostly through the letters written by Christine that Erik had sent to him, but also through the testimonies of Meg Giry and La Sorelli. He supposedly placed all the proof he had gathered in the archives of the Paris Opera.

He also obtained the testimony of M. Poligny, the previous manager of the Opera. The „Opera Ghost“ affair was the final straw that made him resign his post, which again indicates that Erik‘s reign as „O.G.“ was rather short and caused by Erik falling in love (since he had been living in the Opera House presumably since the early 1870s). He also quotes from the fictional „Memoirs of a Manager“ by Armand Moncharmin, where Moncharmin relates that a few days after Christine‘s abduction, Erik returned all of the forty thousand francs he had extracted to the managers, no longer having any need for the money as he had given up his plan to marry Christine. The mystery of the safety-pin is also finally resolved, as Leroux was supposedly able to locate a small trapdoor in the floor of the managers’ office, through which a dexterous magician like Erik could easily have reached up and retrieved the envelope from Richard‘s coattail pocket as it was hanging down from his chair.

Leroux also notes that the marble pillar next to Box 5 sounds hollow and would offer ample space for Erik to hide inside it. According to Gérard Fontaine’s research, the pillars being hollow applies to all the pillars in the auditorium of the Palais Garnier. Whether that proves or disproves anything is up to you... Leroux’s plan of having the lake drained in order to obtain the ultimate proof of Erik‘s existence - finding the entrance to the house by the lake - did not go through, but Leroux still sustains his hope of one day finding the score of „Don Juan Triumphant“ there (that is, if Christine had not taken it with her when she came to bury him).

Leroux then gives a summary of Erik’s life according to the Persian. Erik was born near Rouen in France and ran away from his parents as a young boy, as they were afraid and horrified by how he looked. After being exhibited as a “living corpse” at fairs, he became a singing sensation and garnered a reputation that reached as far as Persia. The daroga of Mazenderan was sent to bring Erik to Persia as entertainment for the “little sultana”. Erik, who also worked there as an assassin, is described here as amoral, “not knowing the difference between right and wrong”. Even though he does not have an evil heart, his life up until this point has left him completely without a moral compass of any kind.

After building an ingenious palace for the shah, Erik’s execution was ordered so that he could not divulge its secrets to anyone. The daroga was supposed to carry it out, but as he owed Erik favours (and was the one who brough Erik to Persia in the first place), he helped him escape instead. He was punished for this and went into exile to Paris. Erik took a detour to Asia Minor and Constantinople before he ended up in Paris as well. It is also mentioned that Erik could make lifelike automata, which is reflected in the musical in the form of the monkey music box and also the “mirror bride”, a physical representation of Erik’s dream of a loving wife.

Once in Paris, Erik decided that he finally wanted to live a normal life, and placed a successful bid to work as a contractor on the Opera House. Wishing to hide his face from the world forever, he built his comfortable home into the foundations of the Opera. Erik’s plan to live out the rest of his life in peaceful tranquillity went well - until he crossed paths with Christine Daae and lost his heart to her completely. And the rest is history…

Leroux here gives his own view of Erik: “He had a heart great enough to hold the empire of the world, and in the end he had to be content with a cellar.” With a normal face, Erik, with his brilliant mind and extraordinary talents, could have had the world at his feet. And even though no one had ever loved him, he still had a heart capable of feeling deep, pure love, which is pretty remarkable. His beautiful voice is a reflection of the beauty he carries inside his soul - which was sadly eclipsed by his ugliness, which did not allow him to live “like everyone else”. The great tragedy of his life was his face, which kept others from treating him as a human being and recognizing his full potential. He is therefore clearly worthy of pity, instead of being cursed and condemned as evil.

Leroux had already mentioned in the Prologue that he believed the skeleton found in the cellars of the Opera was Erik’s. Now he finally reveals why he was so certain of that: because Erik’s skeleton wore the gold wedding ring on his finger, which Leroux believes Christine had placed there. Even though Erik had set her free and given her the ring, she later came back to him, and this time it was certainly not out of terror. With Erik dead, none of his threats would hold any more sway over her - and yet, she still returned to him to keep her promise. She not only buried him with the wedding ring, but she slipped it onto his finger, ultimately fulfilling her promise to accept him as her husband. In a sense, she buried him with her love, and that is truly a bittersweet and beautiful ending. After everything he had to endure, Erik’s life ends with a kiss and a ring on his finger, put there by the woman he loved more than his own life, and with Leroux praying for his salvation. That may not be a traditional happy ending, but it‘s very powerful. And it’s definitely not a villain’s ending.

As „Faust“ is the most strongly referenced work in „Phantom“, it is also worth comparing how the endings are different. In the final act of Gounod‘s opera, Faust and Marguerite first swear their love to each other, but when Marguerite sees Mephistopheles and realizes who Faust really is, she turns away from him and chooses death instead, while Faust is dragged into the fires of hell. Her famous last words to him are „You horrify me!“ In „Phantom“, the progression is almost the other way round - Christine is horrified at first, but then accepts Erik and chooses life instead of death.

It should also be noted that the ending in the novel is so vague that it also allows a lot of room for the reader’s imagination. Was Erik really dead when Christine returned? He himself was announcing his death, so it would not even be so very unlikely. But as this is Leroux’s story, the official reading would of course be how he himself imagined the ending: Erik dying and Christine coming back to bury him. This might be my favourite line from the novel:

“The skeleton lay near the little fountain, where the Angel of Music first held the unconscious Christine Daae in his trembling arms after taking her into the cellars of the Opera.”

As if the return of the ring was not enough poetic closure, he also asked to be buried in the very spot where he held the love of his life for the first time...

Symbolism and Metaphors

Now that we have concluded the epilogue, I would like to add a few more notes on the general themes which are present throughout the novel and still influence how we feel about it today.

To understand the extent of symbolism employed in „The Phantom of the Opera“, it is necessary to understand the cultural mindset and environment in which it was written. At the turn of the century, the arts (and sciences, as evidenced by the slowly emerging works of Sigmund Freud) were rather obsessed with the fateful connection between Eros and Thanatos - love as the life-bringing force, and death as the destructive force. Both were often seen as intertwined and mirrored in the other.

Erik is the personification of Eros and Thanatos. He unites both forces in him to a degree unparalleled by any other character in the story. The death symbolism that is also clearly reflected in how he is described, would be both perceived as horrifying - and yet not without a strangely seductive fascination inherent in it. Death is intricately tied to darker feelings of passion and desire.The “Eros” and the “Thanatos” part of his character are intertwined, but his character also oscillates between the two sides in the course of the story.

Music in „Phantom“ also serves as a metaphor for romantic love, not only in the spiritual but also in the physical sense, as it is connotated with “passion”, “fire”, “ecstasy” and “rapture” throughout the story. Erik’s teaching awakens “an ardent, voracious and sublime life” in Christine, symbolizing the burgeoning romantic feelings in the young woman. She is terrified with the changes going on in her, which is also in line with how „Eros“ was originally viewed: as a frightening loss of control. Erik says in “Apollo’s Lyre” that “some music is so formidable that it consumes everyone who approaches it”, and Christine states that “Music has the power to abolish everything in the outside world except its sounds, which go straight to the heart”. In both sentences, the word “music” can easily be replaced with “love” - especially in Christine’s example, it would be the musical equivalent of “love is blind”.

Like in other (gothic) romances - “Wuthering Heights” being perhaps the prime example - the two rivals in the principal love triangle represent two very different types of love: one is intense and passionate, but also consuming, terrifying and potentially destructive, and the other is safer, but also somewhat chaste and lifeless. Erik and Raoul each represent one of the two extremes. This contrast is exemplified in the scene at the Masked Ball: Raoul wears white, the colour of innocence, while Erik wears red, the colour of passion, but also of danger and blood.

It is suggested in the novel that Erik and Christine were chained together by fate (“La destinée m’enchaîne à toi sans retour”), and I believe they were destined to save each other. Erik saved Christine from her grief in the wake of her father’s death and brought her back to life, and Christine saved his soul by being the first person in his life to accept him and grant him true happiness. „Phantom“ may be a tragic love story, but it is also a hopeful one, as love proves stronger than death. Christine’s choice, Erik‘s sacrifice and the skeleton’s wedding ring are all symbols of love triumphing over death.

#phantom of the opera #lerouxreadingguide #leroux phantom #gaston leroux #leroux erik #christine daae #erik x christine #le fantôme de l'opéra #the phantom of the opera #erik the phantom #raoul de chagny #opera ghost #classic literature #gothic romance

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mrpenguinpants · 3 years

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Venti and Diluc: Friendship HCs

Hi elliechan! I’ve already written friendship hcs for Venti but I never want to leave anyone hanging (unless the dupe request is incredible specific and I can’t add onto it anymore) so think of it as a part 2. But if you haven’t seen Part 1 yet, I added a link.

Also, I would like to credit fulltimeventisimp for helping me out with this fic. My monkey brain couldn’t think of anything for Venti but they gave me literally a fics worth of content. PLEASE IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY, MAKE IT AN ACTUAL FIC! I LOVED IT! I tried my best to not piggy back too hard off it but if it does seem that way, let me know and I’ll definitely change it.

But thank you 💕💕💕

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Part 1: Venti Frienship HCs

Xiao: Frienship HCs

[Masterlist]

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[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten

Venti and Diluc: Friendship HCs

Venti

The first time you met the bard, it was when you were visiting Mondstadt as a small pit stop. He was sat on top of some wooden boxes, next to an apple vendor, singing a short ballad. You’ve never encountered bards throughout your journey and he did have a lovely singing voice so you decided to stay a bit and listen in. It felt like the wind itself was carrying his voice throughout the streets but you couldn’t help but feel a bit...melancholy from his tune. Was it homesickness? You clapped with the crowd when the bard finished and on a whim, you decided to buy him a small bag of apples. He seemed to like them as he only asked the apple vendor to gift him two for his efforts. When you paid your purchase the bard seemed to be in a deep conversation with the same vendor that you didn’t want to disturb them, after all you weren’t going to be in Mondstadt for long. So you placed the small bag of apples beside the bard’s lyre with a quick thank you note, a couple extra coins, and continued on your journey.

You didn’t expect that small act of kindness would lead to anything but when you were preparing for bed, the same bard popped his head outside your window and almost gave you a heart attack. This bard was lucky he didn’t catch you while you were changing your clothes or else things might have turned ugly. He wanted to thank you for your generous donation which you simply waved off explaining that throughout your journey, you never met anyone that could sing quite like him. A small token of appreciation. Perhaps it was because you fed his ego too much or other reasons but that seemed to peak the bards interest and ask about what other fascinating places you’ve been too. You talked about the horrible mountain you needed to climb through to reach Mondstadt, the shining electro lamps of Inazuma that would spark if you got too close, to the clear pools and lotus heads in Liyue.

“You’ve been around all over the place! Perhaps you would allow me to write a ballad of your conquests?”

“Hm? Is that so? Why don’t you come with me? Go outside the walls of Mondstadt and explore. So you can write your own ballad instead of others.”

“Is this another acting whim of yours?”

“Haha, perhaps.”

Unsurprisingly, you don’t see the bard the next day. It was probably a lot to suddenly ask a stranger to drop everything and come with you to unknown places. But you decided to stay in Mondstadt for a short while and see what the City of Freedom had to offer. From meeting the supposed gliding champion and learning a few pointers, to the mysterious Calvary Captain who you were sure was probably the shadiest person you’ve ever met, to the aloof red headed tavern owner. You weren’t much of a drinker but everyone in Mondstadt, especially the knights, seemed to really enjoy their wine and were incredibly friendly to strangers. On the night you were planning to leave Mondstadt, the rowdy knights you’ve became friends with decided to celebrate and urge you to drink to your hearts content (please drink responsibly haha). You must have been a bit tipsy when you met the bard for a second time, introducing himself properly as Venti. You could blame it on the alcohol when you suddenly challenged him to a drinking contest but it was the most fun you had in a while. You were pretty sure everyone got kicked out but as you leaned against Venti absolutely hammered, laughing about the silliest things, it was the most freeing feeling you’ve ever felt.

From then on, even after you had left the City of Freedom, you could would randomly see Venti pop up sometimes. Should it be at Starsnatch Cliff or all the way in Wolvendom, you would see a few fluffy feathers appear as the bar- Venti announced his arrival. You were pretty sure Venti was bored whenever he visited you to see what you were up to but you didn’t mind. His liveliness nature was addicting and you were an easy going person. Though, some of the jokes he made, made you a bit suspicious of him. Whenever he would say that Andrius was secretly a grumpy mother hen or that Dvalin was actually a shy sweetheart.

“You sure do know a lot about Mondstadt. You sure you’re just a bard Venti?”

“Hmm, well it shouldn’t hurt to tell you. I am Barbatos. The Anemo Archon of Mondstadt. Pleasure to make your acquaintance..-again.”

“I see...and yet you still get ID checked?”

“Rude!”

Outside of Mondstadt, Venti is a whirlwind of emotions. Always wanting to see what’s changed or linking your hands and dragging you off to some far off chest he found. How did his small body have so much strength to nearly pop your arm out? He did come in handy during your Liyue expeditions since he can give you a small boost to just reach the top of that cliff. You thought violet grass was bad, it should be illegal for Qingxin flowers to grow on the very top of mountains. Venti thinks it’s really sweet that you put so much faith in his winds to let yourself fly when he uses his elemental skill. Though, it’s a bit of a double edged sword. When you finally reach the very top and you’re waiting for Venti to join you, he might pretend to loose control and throw himself off the cliff. You sometimes forget he’s literally the anemo archon and you’re ready to go gliding after him before he pops up in front of you to give you another scare. While he’s laughing, you’re already planning how to sneak slime condensate into his hat.

“You should have seen your face! I didn’t know you could scream like that! Liyue must think a banshee is haunting their mountains again!”

“Watch yourself gremlin, you might wake up without hands tomorrow.”

“Haha, you wouldn’t do that...right? How would you even do that? Why aren’t you saying anything?!”

“Isn’t there a saying in Liyue Venti? You can’t run from your debts? Prepare yourself.”

For as child-like Venti appears, you both end up getting into a bit of trouble when Venti get’s a bit too bold. While it’s incredibly refreshing to see someone speak their mind regardless of the consequences, you actually kind of admire him for that, usually the boldness comes from trying to bribe the bartender for free drinks. Your poor wallet is crying out every time Venti spots a new tavern. While he say’s he will pay you back or he’ll pay you back in a song, you can’t actually eat his words. But on other occasions you can’t help but join in when it happens to be one of the Fatui guards giving you both a hard time. You feel like you’re acting out a Shakespearian play with all the flowery nonsense and metaphors you’re both spitting out.

When you’re both in the thick of a forest or even on top of Liyue’s mountain, Venti will bring his lyre out and strum his strings softly as you both fall into a comfortable silence. Looking at the sunset or relaxing under the trees as the sun peaks through as you both live in the moment. It’s these times that you’re harshly reminded that Venti is an archon as he slips out of his persona and speaks as Barbatos. He tells you how fun your adventures have been, that he was glad to have made friends with you, speaking as if you’re about to die tomorrow. You’re not sure how to handle it, what kind of burden Venti is carrying, but you immediately drop everything and comfort him. Giving him a strong but warm hug that you’re still here and he’s not alone right now.

“Come on, I’m still waiting for the Ballad of Venti. You haven’t given up on that right?”

“Hmph, of course not. Every being deserves a name to be called upon, and woven into a song.”

Diluc

It was a peaceful day, one Diluc hadn’t felt in a long time in his hectic life. Though it was a bit too early to determine how the day would go since it was still noon. The tavern would soon get loud as it approached night but for now. Everything was peaceful. The sounds of Monstadt streets bustling. The peaceful atmosphere as the sun shone through the windows. Working on mundane tasks of wiping the counter down. No Kaeya in sight. A small moment of peace. All broken when his door was kicked nearly off its hinges as you announced your return from your shopping trip as if you had returned after a 3 year long journey. Diluc sighs under his breath, takes a moment to pray he doesn’t need to repair his door again, and helps you with your bags as you ramble about your day.

To others, it’s always seems a bit weird when they catch Diluc and you chatting since Diluc always gives off the lone wolf persona and yet you’re this ball of sunshine. Maybe it’s because you knew Diluc when he was a child, back when he was still bright-eyed, that you never treated him any differently when he came back. Diluc never really talks about it but he’s happy that you’re still the same and he can let himself relax with you. He still keeps his silent demeanor as he listens to you talk about anything and everything, it helps keeps his mind occupied, but he might add a few comments here and there. Just to let you know he’s still listening.

You know what sounds really hot? Sitting in the same room with someone while you both do your own respective thing. You both don’t feel forced to talk to each other just because you’re in the same room or you have to do everything together just because you’re together. It’s an easy atmosphere that settles as Diluc works on business papers and you’re planning your next expeditions. Until you end collapsing on his couch because your brain processing has suffered enough and it’s time to take a nap. You always end up dragging him out of his work to go outside and take a nice doze in the sun.

If you ever have a problem, he won’t necessarily coddle you unless it really bothers you or you’re in a situation where it could hurt you, but he’ll do everything to help you work through it. You’re his friend and if someone is giving you a hard time then he has no problem chasing them away, especially if its a Fatui member. If it happens to be Kaeya, well that’s an entirely different story. Likewise, if it appears to you that Diluc is going through a rough time you’ll try and comfort him. Do small little things to let him know that you care and while he doesn’t need to tell you what’s wrong, you’re here to support him.

Diluc enjoys playing chess against you, even if he wins most of the time, you’re always so determined that he can’t help but laugh along with your over reactions. Presenting him an entire 20 page paper on chess and yet getting checkmated in 10 turns. You’re 95% sure all the chess strategies he offered were all fake, if his smug grin is anything to go by. You both have agreed to never play darts together, well more specifically, you’re pretty sure you’re banned from playing darts when you almost hit Adelinde. That was the first time you ever genuinely feared for your life.

Whenever Diluc has to attend a gala or has to host a party to further his business, he’s always appreciative when you show up. You’re not exactly apart of royalty or even a business owner but it’s so refreshing to Diluc, after spending so much time keeping a polite attitude and trying to talk business, when he can come to you as you laugh about how one lady almost tripped because her dress was too long. Sometimes he’ll lean a bit on you or pretend to be in a conversation just so he can recharge.

More often then not, you’re mistaken to be Diluc partner even though the idea of holding Diluc’s hand makes you want to throw up. But when Diluc get’s random father’s trying to offer their daughter’s hands in marriage, he’ll pull the excuse he’s already with someone if they can’t no for an answer. It’s always funny to you, linking arms with Diluc and re-telling the grandiose story about how Diluc saved you from falling off a cliff when you were both younger and you were both star-crossed lovers that were destined to be together. Or something like that, you’re pretty sure you’ve changed the story enough times that you can’t keep track. But it seems to work and as soon as they are out of ear’s reach you make a quick gagging motion. He shoves you a bit to which you elbow him in the side. Old habits die hard.

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I swear, I could probably recite character stories word for word at this point. Gripping my writing hand don’t make it angsty, don’t make it angsty, don’t fucking do it. But I still did, whoops.

I feel like my fics are really long so I’ll add a read more tag. Mmm writing styles are hard. I don’t know if I like this;; I ended up writing so much to try and combine my “hcs are just another word for fics just without the dialogue” and “actual headcanons” styles. Ahh, well whatever. I have to go speedrun my assignments since genshin is going to eat all my time this week.

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diegos-butt · 3 years

Text

Electricity Chapter 1

Summary: For the first time in her life, Melody Williams is moving out of her hometown to Minnesota where she got a job as a crime journalist for the Minnesota Daily. But this city does not only have a new job for her to offer. What will happen when she crosses paths with detective Walter Marshall? Heads up, a little electricity is involved ✨

Walter Marshall x Melody Williams (curvy OFC)

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 2.5k

A/N: So, I wrote something for the first time 👀 Pls be kind haha. This is written with a plus size/curvy OFC in mind because all my curvy babes, like me, deserve some love 😘

“Thanks for calling me. I will call you back with my decision soon.” I hung up the phone and stared at it in my hand. A woman from the newspaper in the city a few towns over had just called, telling me they were offering me a job at their crime department. I sat at my desk at my current job, a local journalist for my hometown newspaper. I started working there during college and they offered a job after I finished. I happily accepted, because that meant I could move out of my lovely parents’ house and start my own life.

As I sat at my desk I realized I had never really left this town, and I had always fantasized what it would be like to live and work in a different town. I loved my hometown, don’t get me wrong, but it is small and everyone knows each other. Every day is basically the same here. Miss Johnson walks her dog at exact 3pm, the Millers go to the supermarket at 4pm to buy dinner and the whole town eats at Al’s diner every Sunday.

Also, the men in this town aren’t something to write home about. The decent men are taken by the perfect housewives and the ones who are left, are the type of guys who you don’t want to meet in a dark alley. And unfortunately, no nice men have decided to move here in the last couple of years. The only guy I dated (we were only together for a couple of months) decided I wasn’t good enough and eloped with a pretty, skinny blonde bitch.

While the town doesn’t seem to change, neither does my job. I have been covering the local news for a couple of years now, and it feels like I have been doing the same thing over and over again. Nothing really happens here, and honestly it makes me feel stuck at my job. I feel like my job and this place aren’t helping me to move further. I want to learn more and see something else than this town.

Still staring at the phone in my hand realization washed over me. This was my way out. This phone call could change everything. Not thinking twice, I called the woman (I had forgotten her name, Stacy apparently) back telling her I was accepting their offer. This was my chance of starting something new.

In the weeks after the call, I quit my job and started looking for a new place. Luckily, I found a cosy, affordable apartment. Not too big, not too small. Perfect for me and only me. Not wanting to wait, I moved in quickly with the help of my parents and made the place feel a little like home.

It was a cute apartment with one bedroom and a tiny kitchen. I had everything I needed. A comfy couch, my kettle, my books, a tv for my binge-watching nights and lots of cosy blankets and throw pillows.

After moving in and settling down, I finally had a chance to decorate the place with a lot of fairy lights and plants. I stood in the middle of the living area, wiping some sweat of my face after moving around some heavy plants. Yeah, this is starting to look like home. I thought as I looked around the living area, satisfied with the work I did.

I sat down on my couch and looked at the clock on the wall. It was 8pm. I was tired and hadn’t eaten yet. Tomorrow was my first day at the Minnesota Daily and I couldn’t wait. I was a little nervous, but because I was so tired, I didn’t have the energy to be too nervous or to make dinner.

I decided to make a grilled cheese sandwich and go to bed early. Tomorrow was the first day of a new start and I needed to look good. Might need a full 12 hours of sleep if I want to look a little decent, I thought to myself as I stared into the mirror and noticed my messy hair and the bags under my eyes.

After I ate my ‘dinner’ (I decided two grilled cheese sandwiches counted as dinner), I went to my bedroom and picked an outfit for tomorrow. A simple jeans and a baby blue blouse would do it. Afterwards I brushed my teeth and removed my make up. I put on my pyjamas and fell asleep as soon as my head hit my pillow.

After parking my car in the parking garage underneath the building the Minnesota Daily is located, I checked my make up one last time in the rear-view mirror. No uneven eyebrows and no smudges of mascara. Let’s go make a good first impression.

I stepped out of the car and grabbed my purse. I walked out of the parking garage and made my way to the front desk where I was greeted by a friendly older looking receptionist.

“Hi, I’m Melody! It is my first day here and I was told to ask for Stacy,” I said.

“Welcome dear! I’ll let Stacy know you’re here! She’ll be here in a sec,” she said with a smile. I nodded and looked around. People were walking in and out of the building, most of them talking on the phone. They all looked like they were in a rush.

Stacy appeared within a minute. She was taller than me, and I’m not exactly tiny, and her long brown hair was tied up in a bun. She walked towards me with her hand reached out and I quickly took it.

“Hi, you must be Melody! I’m Stacy, but everyone calls me Stace. Come, follow me, I’ll show you where we will be working!” she said while we walked to the elevator. While the elevator brought us to the 8th floor, she asked me how my new apartment was and if I liked the city. Before I knew it, the elevator reached the 8th floor.

“Everyone, pay attention! This is Melody and she will be joining our department as you all know,” Stacy practically yelled the second we left the elevator. I already saw some friendly faces looking at me. “Hi, I am Melody, but please call me Mel,” I said while Stacy walked over to a desk and started to introduce me to my new co-workers.

After I met everyone from the crime department, I made my way towards my new desk. Everyone seemed friendly and there was a relaxed atmosphere. Which was a little surprising to me considering this was the crime department. I looked around and thought: yeah, I made the right call to accept this offer.

Yet, I had no idea what this town had to offer me. Or better said, who.

In the first week I worked there I became friends with some of my co-workers. Carmen Garcia practically forced me to go to lunch with her and Gia Park on my first day. They had both been working at the Minnesota Daily for a couple of years now and they were one of the few women in the department. So, they were glad I was recruited to give them another ally in the office.

While we had lunch, they informed me about everything I needed to know. “You seriously need to stay away from creepy Greg, he works for the finance section. Make sure you never go down there alone. He always looks at women like he wants to drag them into an empty alley,” Gia said while pretending to throw up.

“Oh, he is the worst! But Megan, the receptionist, is the best ever. She is so sweet and kind. If you ever need anything, just ask her and she will help you,” Carmen added.

“Definitely! And if you ever need free tickets for a sports game, just let me know and we will visit the guys from the sport section,” Gia told me with a wink.

“I will keep all of this in mind,” I said while taking a sip from my cappuccino. “but tell me something about yourselves!”

Next thing I knew Carmen and Gia told me where they grew up, where they went to school and how they ended up working for the Minnesota Daily. I noticed how easy it was to talk to these girls and we had a good laugh while they told me about their most recent dating disasters. I nearly spilled my cappuccino not once or twice, but thrice while Carmen told me about how she escaped from one of her dates through the bathroom window.

During my first week I spend a lot of time with them. I helped them finish their articles and I got to know them pretty well. Carmen is tough, but sweet and straightforward, while Gia is soft and has a very short span of attention while working. She has visited my desk every half hour just to “catch up”. But I didn’t complain. It was nice to have them as my co-workers, although they began to feel more like friends.

It felt like my life fell into place again. I was making new friends, and I did a pretty good job so far. Still, sometimes I forgot to do basis tasks like getting groceries. So now I was parking my car in the parking lot of the grocery store.

As soon as I stepped out, I felt the cold chilly air around me, making me pull my leather jacket closer around my body. Hastily I stepped through the doors of the store just a few minutes before they would close. Quickly I grabbed a basket, knowing I should grab a cart, and started to walk through the aisles.

It was quiet inside, just a few people were doing some last-minute shopping like me. I waved hello to the woman at the cash register as I made my way to the first aisle.

So just the basics, some bread, apples, veggies, chocolate. Hmm maybe no chocolate. Okay yes, some chocolate. I deserve it today. What else, milk and cereal obviously. Girl gotta eat some breakfast. I thought as I threw some products in my already way too full basket and made my way to the cereal aisle. I walked passed the apples and picked some up, holding them in my hands.

Walking through the aisle I stopped in front of the many boxes of cereal. Above me I noticed a flickering lightbulb, reminding me I still needed to watch the last episode of Stranger Things. Maybe I should watch it tonight.

Staring at all the different kinds of cereal, I couldn’t decide which one I wanted. After a minute of just staring at the boxes lost in my own world, I grabbed one.

Except, I suddenly wasn’t the only one. Quickly I turned around and bumped into a warm, broad chest which made me drop the apples I was carrying. “Oh shit,” I whispered before I looked up into the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen and stared at the man. He had a beard and dark, brown curls. One of the curls dangled in front of his eyes and I had to fight the urge to not wipe it out of his face.

“It didn’t look like you were going to make a decision soon, so I just grabbed the one I wanted,” he said while crouching down to pick up the fallen apples.

“Oh no, no it’s fine,” I stammered, completely overwhelmed by him. “I guess I was zoned out there for a moment.”

While he was picking up the apples, I decided to take a quick look at him. He was a tall, big man wearing a dark blue sweater. Damn it, he is gorgeous. Don’t mind bumping into him more often.. no don’t go there, pull yourself together! I thought as I felt my cheeks burning all of a sudden. I couldn’t even remember the last time I talked to a man this handsome. Get it together Mel.

As he stood up and handed me the apples, I noticed how tired he looked. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, making me wonder when it was the last time he had a decent amount of sleep. Or if he ever had a decent night of sleep.

“Thank you for picking these up,” I said while holding up the apples, making them almost fall again. His reflexes were fast as he grabbed my elbow, helping me keep the apples balanced. The warmth of his hand made my legs suddenly feel a little weak.

“No problem,” he chuckled tiredly making me smile a little. “Maybe you should have gotten a cart instead of a basket, might be easier,” he said while still holding onto my elbow. He pointed with his other hand to my basket that was way too full.

“You are probably right, but my stubborn ass thought I could carry it all, so here we are,” I answered with a timed laugh, feeling a little embarrassed. He looked at me with those blue eyes and I noticed he had a “don’t mess with me” vibe, that somehow made me feel safe.

As I looked at his hand on my elbow, I suddenly became aware of how close he was. I could smell his musky cologne. He noticed I looked at his hand, and he abruptly let go of me while taking a step back. I immediately missed the warmth of his hand.

“I, uh, I need to go. Take care and don’t drop those again,” he told me with a small smile pointing at the apples in my hands. He grabbed his own basket and started to walk away. As he walked away, I took a good look of him. He was a very muscular man, and I took a mental picture of his ass because that was a sight I did not want to forget. I must tell Carmen and Gia about this.

“I can’t promise that, but I will try my hardest,” I laughed, knowing I would probably drop them again soon. “See you around?” I asked him. Surprised by my own boldness I nearly sank through the floor out of embarrassment.

He looked back at me with those beautiful blue eyes and I felt a spark of electricity going through my spine. “I hope so,” he said with a smirk before he shook his head and turned the corner leaving me speechless in the cereal aisle.

I stood there for another minute while coming back to my senses. My cheeks stopped burning and I realized I had not embarrassed myself that much. I smiled to myself and pictured the smirk he gave me in my head. Then the announcement that the store was about to close in a few minutes blared through the speakers, reminding me I still had to collect some groceries.

Quickly I grabbed the rest of the groceries and headed towards the cash register hoping to see him one more time. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found.

I paid for the groceries and walked to my car. Loading the groceries in the trunk I nearly dropped the apples again. Told you, I thought while closing the trunk. It was getting dark and colder outside so I wasted no more time and drove home.

While driving home I realized the mistake I made.

Damn, I should’ve asked his name.

•••

> Chapter two

Taglist: @keanureevesisbae

If somehow you want to be on my taglist, just let me know!

#Walter Marshall #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall x plus size ofc #walter marshall x oc #walter marshall x curvy ofc #henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x plus size ofc #henry cavill x curvy ofc #plus size ofc #curvy ofc #fanfiction #electricity #night hunter #nomis

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danny-chase · 2 years

Text

Robin & Batman #1 Review

Right so this review will not have any pictures nor spoilers, I’ll be straightforward and say I loved this comic so much, if you’re able its a good one to support.

First off: Dustin Nguyen’s art is simply beautiful. The comic is illustrated in watercolor style and is definitely stylized and personally 100% hits the mark for me. He captures expressions wonderfully and it’s very additive to the story. The text-less panels are not there for filler, they have significance in allowing the reader to understand the emotions characters are feeling, and they’re very much a show not tell moments. The backgrounds are simple, drawing the attention to the characters - and important things to the story - there’s enough to look at to keep you engaged without being too distracting. It’s almost like we’re looking in on someone’s memories with how the background is faded, as they’re remembering the most important parts. And the scaling reminds us that Dick is just a child - every panel he’s in you can tell how young he is.

Next point: Jeff Lemire’s dialogue is very fluid and matches the tone of the story. It doesn’t feel as if the writing drags on for too long and it stays on topic. It has chunks of narration rather than both narration and dialogue together in one page. This paces the story really well and shows how Dick’s thoughts and emotions are changing throughout the story, because when you get his internal monologue boxes, it reads as if he’s being given a moment to sit down and process things - which doubles as a point for the reader to reflect on the story before people start talking again. The dialogue in it’s own right isn’t cheesy or unnecessarily long, it feels natural to the characters while still being important to the story.

The Characters: The tone is more on the serious side with the characters coming off as more raw and emotional (ie: this comic made me feel things). It takes place during Dick’s transitional phase between training and becoming Robin and shows us that little kid that’s not a perfect angel, but rather someone who’s reeling and trying to deal with all the changes in his life - while still sounding like a 8-10 year old child. It’s a genuinely raw take on Dick without seeming angsty for the sake of angst or over the top in any way. He’s just a kid that’s struggling. Meanwhile we have Bruce, who’s not written as a perfect parent, and might seem cold and uncaring at first glance, but if you read more into the story you can see just how much he cares for Dick (albeit underneath layers of fear and struggling with understanding how to raise a child). Alfred is also present and you can see the contrast between his and Bruce’s methods, though he takes more of a grandfatherly role here - advising Bruce rather than parenting Dick. Waylon makes an appearance as well and they’ve tweaked his backstory in a way that I personally think is interesting.

Overall I really loved this comic, I hope it does well, and hope the author/artist get more opportunities to work on Dick. It’s pretty clear that they love Robin and Batman and put a lot of time, effort, love, and care into the book.

Spoiler-y discussion of Bruce’s parenting under the cut so you can decide for yourself if this comic is for you:

So from what I’ve seen this comic is getting compared to All-Star Batman and Robin, but from my own reading of it i don’t think it’s a comparison that should be made.

Bruce isn’t a perfect parent in this, he’s very strict and comes off as harsh and uncaring - at least as observed by Alfred. It is made pretty clear that this is because Bruce thinks that if he lenient, he will get Dick killed. It’s also fairly evident that Bruce is projecting onto Dick heavily and he’s trying to give Dick everything that he needed at the time. It comes off in my opinion as an issue of Bruce not understanding that Dick is different than him and has different needs than him.

This becomes more evident at the end of the issue. Bruce had Alfred destroy Dick’s costume, but he didn’t give Alfred more context and Alfred tells Dick that he thinks Bruce is seriously done with the “taking Dick on as a partner thing” because of this. In reality what Bruce did was have another set of armor made - and he used the costume Dick designed in his journal. There’s this lack of communication between Bruce and Dick that allows for misunderstandings between them - Dick thinks Bruce is playing mind games, but Bruce thinks everything is going normally. Bruce doesn’t understand why Dick is upset that Bruce went through his journal after he presents Dick with the gift.

Bruce giving this gift to Dick was him trying and caring as a parent. It’s noted by Dick that the design is something that Bruce would hate, yet because it’s important to Dick and a reminder of his family, Bruce brings Dick’s design to life rather than making something he would prefer. He doesn’t understand why Dick is upset because they’re not supposed to have secrets between them, and it comes off as Bruce not understanding Dick’s need for personal space rather than understanding and ignoring it - the suit was supposed to be a gift and make Dick happy and Bruce is pretty much at a loss for why it didn’t achieve the desired result.

In my opinion, Bruce seems like a struggling single father who makes the same mistakes a lot of parents make (invading privacy, being too harsh because they’re scared of their child’s behavior making them unsafe, and projecting too much on their kid) but he’s genuinely trying to be a good parent.

#Robin and Batman #Dick Grayson #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Robin #Nightwing #god i loved this comic so much #this comic was catered to me specifically #there's so much to talk about i can't wait for the next two issues

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writethelifeyouwant · 3 years

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Femme Fatale - Ch 1 / 2

Pairing: Alex x Reader (background J2) Rating: 18+ Tags: Dom/Sub relationships, Sub!Alex, Domme!Reader, Dom!Jensen, Sub!Jared, sex/bdsm club, voyeurism, exhibitionism, pegging, humiliation kink Word Count: 3.3k Created for: @spnkinkbingo - Dom/Sub

A/N: Thank you so much for being my first ever commission Sin! I've had a lot of fun tackling this challenge because I've never written a Domme!reader before but I really appreciate you trusting me with your idea, and I hope I do it justice ❤️

Series Masterlist

This is a weird idea, even for Alex. A night out with his cast mates isn’t unusual, and Y/N has gone along on plenty of group dinners with Alex, Jared and Jensen (that were essentially double dates) before, but they usually ended by closing out the hotel bar or crashing in someone’s guest room. They had never ended up at a proper club before, let alone planned a whole evening around going to a specific one. But that’s the plan tonight.

When Alex informs her that the location was Misha’s suggestion, it makes even less sense to Y/N. Misha seems like he would be the least likely of all of them to actually enjoy clubbing but hey, what does she know?

“Alex, I don’t have anything to wear!” Y/N complains from inside their closet, hoping her boyfriend can hear her through the bathroom door.

“That cannot be true,” she can hear the amusement coupled with a light mix of exasperation in his tone.

“What did they tell you the dress code was?” Y/N calls as she continues to flip through the clothes hanging in front of her.

“Misha said, and I quote, ‘dress slutty’.” Alex appears in the doorway to the closet and leans against the frame, tucking his arms across his chest. Y/N actually does a double take when she sees him.

“I see you took that advice literally,” she eyes him, gaze dragging across his body and catching against each new feature she notices like sandpaper running against the grain. Alex is dressed casually, but most definitely sluttily too. A loose and frayed wife beater hangs off his shoulders, showing off his waist where one side is tucked into his shorts. The elastic of his boxers is sticking out over the shirt too, which is completely on purpose in a move to tease. The denim shorts are tight, torn-up, and just to the knee. Y/N has seen him wear them before, and she knows when he turns around she’ll have an amazing view of his ass.

“I’m good at following instructions,” Alex smiles, clearly pleased with himself that he’d successfully fulfilled his remit.

“So eager to please,” Y/N teases over her shoulder as she goes back to thumbing through outfit potentials. “Honestly, the fact that Misha is telling us to dress slutty and not Jared must mean dress really slutty.”

“You could just not wear anything,” Alex offers as a suggestion. “Nothing sluttier than free access.”

“In your dreams, babe.”

“How did you know?” Alex is mock horrified and you laugh along with him when he breaks character. “Still can’t decide?” and Y/N shakes her head in response. “Can I pick for you? I do have a pretty good memory of all your sluttiest outfits.”

“Hey! Who you callin’ a slut Mr. Slutty McTightShorts?” Y/N rounds on Alex, comically enraged.

“You, duh,” Alex laughs and pecks her on the cheek as he moves over to a drawer where Y/N keeps her underwear.

Alex goes straight for the lingerie, Y/N should have guessed, and he pulls out a matching set of lacy thong and longline bra, both enmeshed in patterns of criss-crossed elastic and ribbons. Then he ducks down to the bottom drawer where Y/N keeps a load of her old college clothes that she’s too sentimental to get rid of, and rummages through it, clearly looking for something specific. He finally liberates a skirt that barely has the right to be called a piece of clothing. Y/N can’t even remember why she owns that. Finally he reaches for a swingy tank made of a light gauzy material. It’s really meant to be a cover-up for the beach because of how loose and flowy it is but Y/N imagines that is Alex’s intention behind picking it – he knows it won’t stay on properly or do a single thing to hide the bra she’ll be wearing beneath it. Alex hands her the pile of clothes, again looking very pleased with himself.

“You’re really not pulling punches tonight, are ya?”

“I just want to show off how awesome my girlfriend is,” Alex shrugs.

“Yeah, you want to show off all of her, apparently,” Y/N holds up the small skirt skeptically.

“You’ll look incredible, scouts’ honour,” Alex swears, grinning.

“If we show up and the others aren’t dressed super slutty, I’m gonna maim things.”

“I won’t stop you,” Alex laughs and pushes Y/N out of the closet. “C’mon get dressed so we can go down some alcohol before the car gets here.”

They’ve both knocked back a beer and a shot when the car pulls up and a message pops into the group chat saying they’re here. The night is close and warm outside of the air conditioning, and for that reason at least Y/N is glad to be wearing such a small amount of clothing. When the young couple slides into the car they’re greeted by Jared, Jensen, Misha, and his wife Vicki – another surprise to Y/N, as she doesn’t come out with them too often. Something about tonight must be special.

“Hey hot stuff!” Jared greets them, grinning as he eyes them both up and down. Jensen pinches him on the leg. “Behave.” Jared doesn’t let it derail his examination.

“Thanks, I know, right?” Alex jokes and ruffles his hair, throwing Jared a wink. Y/N gives him a side eye, silently imitating Jensen’s instruction of behave. Alex grabs for her hand and kisses it in a gesture of reassurance, dropping their joined hands to his lap and keeping them there. Alex is a flirt, just like Jared, but Y/N knows that he would never stray from her. At least, not unless she tells him to.

The car proceeds to drive them across town to an area of L.A. Y/N isn’t familiar with. She and Alex haven’t lived in the city very long, so it’s not like she’s expecting to know every inch of its nightlife scene but this place seems much more out of the way than she was expecting them to be going. The streets they’re trundling down are dark, not bright and shining with neon and glittering lights like so much of downtown tends to be. The occasional person or couple is walking along the sidewalk, but overall it’s deserted by city standards.

“Where are we going again?” Y/N pipes up from her seat, looking out the window and spotting another couple in dark coats holding hands as they amble down the side street.

“We’re almost there,” Vicki smiles reassuringly at Y/N, then turns to Jensen. “Tom texted to let me know he’s set aside a table upstairs for us, so everyone can just watch or they can join in, whatever you want.”

“Who’s Tom?” Y/N asks curiously, she hasn’t heard the name before.

“He’s our boyfriend,” Misha answers matter of factly, like he’s trying not to betray any emotion around the statement until he can judge Y/N and Alex’s reactions to that news. Y/N can’t pretend she isn’t surprised, but the more she thinks about it the more she realises that Misha is always quite private about his and Vicki’s relationship – this must be why.

“Oh, cool dude,” Alex laughs, giving an approving nod, almost like he’s impressed with Misha’s nonconformity. Y/N smiles. Alex always loves finding out about what people have going on ‘outside the box’, it helps him come out of his own shell just a little bit more every time.

“Can’t wait to meet him,” Y/N chimes in, just to quiet the small hint of wariness she can see playing behind Misha’s eyes. He relaxes visibly and smiles, much more his carefree and goofy self in that instant.

“Oh, s’that it?” Jared points out the window to a dim neon sign and a small group of people sitting on benches and little round tables, smoking. The block letters shine against the rough brickwork of the building they’re mounted on, grey and sophisticated, unlike all the garish colours Y/N would usually expect from a nightclub.

Femme Fatale.

Y/N hadn’t known what to expect when they got inside but she never would have expected what she’s witnessing now. Femme Fatale is a swingers club. Not just that, it’s a BDSM swingers club.

How had they known? Y/N wonders. She and Alex don’t usually make a habit of discussing that aspect of their relationship with other people. Especially since Alex is still pretty new to being a Sub. He had toyed with the idea of being a Dom in a previous relationship, and technically he labels himself as a Switch when people ask, but he once he had told Y/N that since he met her she brings out a part of himself he hadn’t really connected with properly before, and he loves it.

His eyes are wide now, blown out with obvious lust as Y/N watches him watch his surroundings. Jared is the same, and Jensen is watching him just as intently as Y/N is watching Alex. With how they act, Y/N always suspected that Jensen and Jared were in a Dom/Sub relationship, and she was quietly smug that she had been right. Misha and Vicki had left the party at their table on the exposed balcony as soon as their boyfriend Tom, who Y/N now understands is the manager of this club, had shown them in and sat them down. Now, Y/N knows what Vicki had meant in the car about them just being able to watch if that’s what they wanted to do, instead of joining in. Misha and Vicki have clearly opted to join in, and Y/N can’t see where they went off to, lost in the heaving crowd of people below them.

So far, she’s enjoying watching, and Alex clearly is too. His slutty shorts are doing nothing to hide the semi he’d popped almost the second they walked in. It isn’t so much her thing, but Y/N knows Alex has an exhibitionist streak, and she can easily imagine what must be running through his mind right now. Being out in the middle of everything, shown off, performing. And Y/N thinks she might like showing him off, showing everyone what a good little boy he can be for his Mistress, showing everyone how much control she has over him. How much he wants to do everything she asks of him, to please her.

“Jared,” Y/N looks away from Alex when Jensen speaks, and Alex looks up from the ground floor where he had been watching some of the people on display. “Do you want to go play?” Jensen asks neutrally, very carefully leaving the choice up to Jared, without betraying his own feelings on the notion.

“Can we?” Jared’s eyes light up instantly and Y/N smirks to herself. Jared and Alex are more alike than she realised.

“Yeah, c’mon baby boy,” Jensen smiles indulgently and holds out his hand to Jared, who takes it and follows him down the stairs to the play areas. Y/N looks back to Alex, whose eyes are glued to his cast mates’ backs.

“What about you, baby boy?” Y/N purrs, using Jared’s nickname teasingly and Alex blushes as she runs her nails up his bare arm. She’d never called him that before but it’s clear he likes it. “Do you want to go play?”

“I–” Alex breaks off, considering. “Can we just watch for a bit? See what everyone’s doing?” he asks nervously.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Y/N smiles and offers Alex her hand. They make their way down the iron grate staircase into the madness that has been churning below them this whole time. It’s easy to spot Jared and Jensen, despite the crowd. They stick out above the heads of a lot of the people nearby because most of them are bent over or crouched down to some extent.

They’re at the edge of the dance floor, in a space that’s still public but is cordoned off for more… intimate play. There’s two St. Andrew’s crosses bolted on the wall, both currently occupied with girls – one wearing an assortment of leather straps with metal studs poking out of them, and one wearing absolutely nothing but the cuffs binding her to the beams. Leather couches and benches are dotted around the floorspace, all covered with partially to wholly naked occupants engaging in every variety of sexual activity Y/N can imagine. Alex looks like a kid in a candy store watching it all unfold before him.

“You can watch whoever you want, but no touching without my permission, okay?” Y/N speaks into Alex’s ear so he can hear her over the bass of the music that’s vibrating through the crowd around them.

“Yes, ma’am,” Alex salutes her cheekily and starts to move away but she grabs the neck of his shirt and hauls him back, looking him sternly in the eye.

“Do you want to try that again with a little respect, baby?” Alex drops his eyes and looks penitent.

“Yes, Mistress.” He gives her a weak smile, asking for forgiveness, and Y/N decides to let him off this time.

“Good boy,” she leans up and kisses his forehead before giving him a swift pat on the backside. “Have fun, I’m going to grab a drink,” Y/N points to one of the bars lining the far side of the play area. “Find me that way if you want me, okay baby?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Alex nods meekly, giving Y/N a small kiss before he ducks into the crowd towards a group of spectators all watching a girl tied to a bench getting teased by her Domme and a flogger. Typical, Y/N smiles to herself and makes her way to the bar to order a glass of wine.

Wine in hand, Y/N spins on her heel and looks around the room. Alex is still where she left him and a few groups over she spots Jensen, his back to her, watching something else she can’t quite make out between everyone’s bodies. Jared doesn’t appear to be anywhere though. Y/N decides to have a look at whatever Jensen’s observing, curious what’s got him so stoically still. There’s a lot going on around him but it becomes instantly clear which performer Jensen’s watching when Y/N approaches and peeks over his shoulder.

Jared is on his hands and knees, in amongst a crowd of people. There’s a sort of black leather platform that he’s perched on, so they’re elevated from the floor. It puts Jared’s mouth at the perfect height to reach people’s waists, which he’s currently putting to good use by swapping between two men with their cocks standing out stiff from their jeans. Jensen is watching closely, smirking at the crowd all raptly watching his boyfriend. When Jared takes the man with the bigger cock so deep that his nose is pressed to the man’s stomach, Y/N can’t help but laugh.

“I see why you like him so much,” Y/N bumps her shoulder against Jensen and he jumps, looking down at her and grinning when his brain catches up to her comment.

“Yeah he’s good with his mouth,” Jensen agrees, smiling proudly.

“Nice of you to loan him out.”

“I like to think I’m generous,” Jensen shrugs. “But not too generous,” Jensen catches the arm of a man trying to round the platform to get to Jared’s ass instead of his mouth. “Sorry man, no guys back there.”

“Oops, sorry dude,” the guy backs off quickly, and Y/N is impressed by how respectful the whole exchange is.

“Is that Jensen only territory?” Y/N questions, wiggling her brow.

“Yeah I don’t like other guys fuckin’ him,” Jensen explains. “But I like girls pegging him, it’s fun to humiliate him like that.” Just then Y/N spots a small woman climbing into a strap on with the help of her partner, who drops to her knees to suck on the dildo a little before covering it in lube from the bottle on the ground by the platform.

“No kidding,” Y/N whistles lowly, in awe as she watches the girl push the black silicone inside Jared, inch by inch. The way his hole is pulsing around the intrusion is almost hypnotic. She tries to picture what Alex would look like, on his hands and knees amongst all these people, everyone watching him get split open by some little girl with a big dick… everyone seeing him loving it, like Jared clearly is.

Y/N hears Jensen laugh beside her and she jumps a little, clearing her throat in embarrassment at being caught out staring at Jared’s asshole so blatantly.

“Sorry,” she clears her throat again and takes a sip of wine to hide behind her glass.

“It’s okay,” Jensen laughs again. “I wouldn’t let him do this if I didn’t want people to watch him.”

“Good point,” Y/N acknowledges, feeling a little better. “And um, out of curiosity,” Y/N pauses, trying to frame her question politely. “How did you get Jared to agree to the pegging?” Jensen raises an eyebrow at Y/N curiously. “You know, one Domme to another,” Y/N elaborates, so Jensen doesn’t think she’s trying to ask if she can peg Jared. That’s the furthest thing from her mind right now.

“No kidding?” Jensen chuckles, clearly impressed. “Well, I don’t know what you and Alex get up to normally, but it wasn’t too much of a stretch for Jared. He gets off on humiliation and I get off on humiliating him, and this fits that bill for both of us.” At that comment, Jensen looks back to Jared and smirks before reaching down to adjust himself subtly, and Y/N laughs. “What about it is calling to you?” Jensen asks, and Y/N has to pause to consider that before she can hit on the answer.

“It’s the one part of Alex I don’t think anyone’s touched. I mean he’s never mentioned it if he has done it before but I don’t think he has. The idea of marking him like that, of having something no one else can have from him…” Y/N trails off, letting her thoughts spiral as she feels the space between her legs heat up. When she adjusts her stance, she feels the slick brush of wet panties against her skin. Yes, she loves that idea. The thought of taking that last first, touching a part of Alex that no one else has touched. Being literally inside of him. Fucking him into submission would take on a whole new meaning.

“Yeah, that’s hot,” Jensen agrees and Y/N smiles dreamily. Now she just needs to figure out how to bring it up to Alex. “Hey,” Jensen taps her on the shoulder and points over Jared to the other side of the crowd, “you might not have to do as much convincing as you think.”

Standing across from them, Jared still on his hands and knees between them being fucked at both ends, is Alex. His eyes are fixed steadily on Jared, the rest of the world a mere blur around him and the object of his focus. His pupils are huge, in part due to the dark of the club but Y/N knows it’s also to do with desire. She watches his eyes dart back and forth and realises that he’s not just watching Jared, he’s watching the dildo that’s steadily fucking in and out of Jared’s ass, following its movements closely. He licks his lips and Y/N smiles. Jensen is right, she’s not going to have to convince him at all. He already wants this.

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dumdumsun · 3 years

Text

Forever and Never

A/N: Welcome back, luvs ❤️ Glad to have you back

Warnings: mentions of marijuana

Word Count: 2876

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Two: Gotta Have Soul

“What was school like for you?”

“Like, a regular school day?”

“Yeah, like a regular school day.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A normal day of school for me was like walking around in a glass bubble. This isn’t a metaphor for personal space, but rather the concept of fitting in. Clearly, I fit in at school, but not in the way I expected to. I could walk amongst my peers and smile in their faces, talk with them, but it’d be difficult to hear through the glass of my bubble. We could reach out to each other and hope for a connection, but our hands would forever be disconnected by the glass. But they seemed to be fine with it. They didn’t want to come into my bubble, they just wanted to admire me from the outside. And I supposed I was fine with that, as well. It wasn’t like I opened my bubble for anyone, even invited anyone inside. I let Dina in once and got paranoid. Paranoid that she’d take up the air, that she’d hate my bubble and what I’d have to offer within it. So, I did what I thought was best and kindly asked her to leave. Assured her that she could maybe come back another time, when I was ready. As the sweet and considerate person that she was, she had no problem with it.

Stan didn’t need to live in a glass bubble because he didn’t need to fit in. And I’ve never needed to open the bubble myself to allow him access. He was welcome anytime and entered as he pleased. He was the only person who understood me. I realize that we had more in common than I thought. No one understood our fashion senses, our tastes in music, the way we preferred to keep to ourselves. I could breathe around him and smile and laugh, I mean actually laugh. It was just a shame it all had to wait until after school. Stan and I lived in two different worlds at school. Sometimes I’d catch a ride with him if he left his house the same time I did mine. The second we would set foot on the school campus, we were strangers. It wasn’t that we were embarrassed of each other, I just think Stan was intimidated by the crowd I attracted. Hell, I was intimidated by the crowd I attracted. I’d much rather be walking down those halls with Stan, Dina, and Sydney (if she was comfortable with me). Luckily, I had classes with each of them.

I had nearly every class with Dina, save for honor choir and theatre classes. We found a way to sit near each other in every class we had and talked about everything and nothing for the entire hour. Half of my classes were with Stanley, and those hours were full of glancing at each other and playfully winking or blowing kisses. He’d pass me notes old-school style, but always avoided the route that would lead to either Ricky or Brad. We had a couple of run-ins that led to them teasing Stan before the note could even reach me. Study hall was one of the only times Stan and I would actually sit together and talk in school. Sometimes we’d study, sometimes we’d skip and go smoke outside. Nonetheless, we’d make the most out of our time together.

I only had two classes with Sydney and both included Dina, so there still wasn’t much going on between us at school. She wasn’t as active in gym class as we were, so it was a lot of her cheering us on when we played basketball or dodgeball. She was usually the person to hand me Stan’s notes in science, having to dodge Ricky and Brad’s grabbing hands so that I could quickly snatch it. Luckily, I only had two classes with Ricky and Brad, and they both included Dina and Stan. So, I was never trapped in an uncomfortable situation with Ricky before their eyes.

Science was the most chaotic class for me. Not only did I not care for the subject, but my seat was away from both Stan and Dina. I was nearly sandwiched between Ricky and Brad, which set me on edge most days. Despite this, I simply tried my best to focus on my school work. “And yes, during arousal, there is an increase in all sorts of things, including adrenaline and, of course, blood flow,” Mr File droned on as I wrote down notes in my notebook. Dina always said she thought it was cute how I used different colors for each day. Little did she know, once I started this system, I couldn’t stop it. This was to the point that I had to buy a set of pens for each class. I couldn’t use my green math pen for my Tuesday science class. “And the blood flow continues down and then gets trapped within the corpora cavernosa. The penis expands, and this is how the Homo sapien male is able to hold an erection. Yes?”

My attention was diverted to Bradley, who raised his hand. Once he was called on, he set his hand back down and straightened his posture. “From my experience, Mr File, the holding of an erection is far more successful in the hands of a Homo sapien female.” His inappropriate joke sent an eruption of laughter throughout the classroom. I rolled my eyes in irritation.

“Very funny, Mr Lewis.” Mr File deadpanned.

“Just talkin’ science.”

“Moving on.” As my teacher turned back to the chalkboard, Ricky and Brad reached over my head to high five each other. I scoffed and continued on with my notes. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ricky turn around to speak to Sydney.

“Ah. Oh, come on, fire crotch. Laugh. That was funny.”

“Don’t be a prick, Ricky,” I hissed, the boy’s head snapping over to me. “It wasn’t even that funny.”

Ricky tilted his head at me and gave a soft smile, his hand reaching over and clasping around my wrist. “Okay, babe, I’ll leave your friend alone-”

“And don’t call me babe.” I yanked my wrist from his grasp. He froze, shocked, his mouth opening and closing as if at a loss for words.

“Mr Berry, if you could take your eyes off of Ms (Y/L/N) for one second to listen to my lecture, that would be very much appreciated.” At the sound of Mr File’s voice, Ricky quickly turned forward and returned to his notes.

“I’ll definitely try my best, sir.” He smirked, Bradley chuckling and reaching over my head again to give his friend another high five. My eyes fell on Stanley, who was watching the interaction in annoyance. When his gaze met mine, he gave me a sympathetic look. I only held my fingers in the position of a gun up to my temple and pretended to fire it. He shook his head in amusement before turning his attention back to Mr File. Glancing over my shoulder, I watched as Sydney glanced between Dina and our teacher before her gaze settled on me. She gave me a small smile and mouthed a ‘thank you’. I winked at her and gave a thumbs up. That was the start of one of the very few friendly interactions we’d have throughout the week.

On my way home from school that day, I spotted Syd and ran to catch up with her. “Hey, Sydney.” I grinned, the girl jumping a bit when I appeared by her side.

“O-Oh. Um, hey, Zip.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” I chuckled. “You’re normal.”

She smiled and stared down at her feet. “Uh… Why are you walking with me?” I frowned at her question, but she raised her head quickly. “Like, no offense, but… you usually just… keep to yourself. Or you get a ride from Stanley.”

“I stayed after for theatre rehearsal,” I shrugged. “But we never talk. We’re neighbors, Syd. And we’re both friends with Dina. Isn’t it weird we never talk?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I guess it is.”

“I’m not saying we should hang out everyday and tell each other secrets, but… you know.”

“No, yeah, I get it. I mean, Dina likes you… So does everyone else, so you must be really cool to be around.”

“Well, that’s something you can find out for the both of us. Because I still don’t get it…” I turned my head forward, my voice trailing off. We continued our journey home in comfortable silence, every now and then striking up pebble throwing contests. Sydney had a really nice smile. It was a shame she didn’t use it much. When we reached my street, our walk didn’t last much longer. “Here’s my stop.” I announced, stepping away towards the mailbox to retrieve our mail. Sydney nodded with a smile.

“I’ll, uh… I’ll see you tomorrow-”

“Oh, hey, Syd!” Stan’s voice called out. We both turned our heads to see him getting up from his porch, making his way to the middle of the street to meet Syd. “And my lovely Zip.”

“Hey, beautiful.” I winked, pulling out a couple envelopes from the box. Stanley chuckled fondly at me before looking back to Syd, who was waiting expectantly.

“Oh, my leg fell asleep. One sec,” He then began shaking and stretching his leg, Sydney standing by awkwardly. The sight alone was enough to have me quietly laughing to myself. Stan let out a sigh once he was done and planted his foot back on the ground. “Can I walk with you?”

“Sure. Why not?” Syd shrugged. Stan smiled and turned forward with her.

“Cool.”

As they walked away, I noticed one of the envelopes was addressed to me. Maybe a bit too enthusiastically, I ripped it open. Inside was a lonely check. No note. Just like last time. And the time before that. Taking out the check, my eyes bulged at the number written down. Four hundred dollars?! Four hundred fucking dollars from Dad in two weeks! I tried to think of the upcoming dates. Was Aunt Pam’s birthday coming up? Uncle David’s? Jacob’s? No one’s. So… why did Dad send me twice as much this time? My head lifted to find Stanley happily dancing back up to his house, twirling and jumping with his bare feet. I laughed at the sight. As he descended the slope to his house, he motioned for me to follow. Setting the mail on the porch swing, I pocketed my check and hurried down to Stan’s.

-------------------------------------------------

“What about this one?” I held up Elton John’s Goodbye Yellow Brick Road on vinyl. “I love me some Elton John.”

“Whatever you want, Nugget.” I heard him from the couch. Satisfied with my decision, I put the music on, nodding to the beat of Crocodile Rock as I joined Stanley on the couch. He had just taken out one of his pre-rolled joints from his case and was lighting it up.

“So…”

“So?”

“What’s up with you and Sydney Novak?” I cheekily grinned, my friend puffing on the smoke as he removed the joint from his mouth. “You wanted to… walk with her?”

“I wanted to hang out with her. We’ve never hung out before. I just thought she’d want more friends.”

“Uh-huh…” I raised a brow, taking the joint when it was offered to me. As I inhaled the smoke, Stan waved me off.

“Whatever. So… what’s been going on with you? It’s been about three weeks since you got back and you haven’t spoken a word about where you disappeared to.”

I quickly handed the joint back as I exhaled, the smoke clouding my vision. “Yeah, I don’t really wanna talk about that…”

“Oh.” Stan cleared his throat.

“Let’s just say it was… very depressing.”

“Well, what about your dad? How’s he been?”

“He’s good, I think. Working in Georgia still. Oh!” I lifted my hip a bit to retrieve the check from my back pocket. “Look at this fucking shit, Stan! My dad sends me a two hundred dollar check every two weeks. But look what I got this time.” Stan leaned over, squinting his eyes as if he weren’t seeing right.

“Four hundred?!”

“Four hundred!”

“Jesus, (Y/N), what does he do?!”

“In all honesty, Stan, I have no fucking idea. He doesn’t like talking about it.”

“Well, that’s not suspicious at all.” Stan mumbled, silencing himself by placing the joint between his lips. It didn’t take too long for our highs to kick in. When they did, we were draped over one another, lazily drawing shapes in the air. I reached over and tickled Stan’s foot, which was just beside my head. He quietly giggled and retracted his foot from me. I laughed loudly and dropped my arm.

“Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“This is where we peak, huh? This is, like, as good as it gets,” I watched as he lifted his head, attempting to make eye contact with me. “Like, we’re not gonna have shit going for us besides a lousy paycheck we slave for. And we’re gonna settle for someone who makes us all feel a little less lonely… or we just end up alone and blame everyone else for it. And then… In, like, ten years we’re gonna go to our high school reunion and then we’re gonna find out that… We all were pieces of shit at the age of seventeen and that’s as good as we got. It’s as good as we’ll ever get,” I pointed to him. “At least, that’s what you told me.”

“Nugget… you talk too much,” He flopped back onto the ground. “But yeah, you’re right. But, like… not you.”

“Not me?”

“No, you’re gonna… move away again. But for good. You’re gonna become the best… damn actress of our time and you’re gonna walk on red carpets and go on talk shows and go ‘Yeah, my best friend Stanley Barber was the best thing that’s ever happened to me’, and then-”

“That’s not how I talk!” I burst out laughing, which triggered his own laughter. We spent the next few moments rolling on the floor, trying to catch our breaths in the midst of our cackling. Even in my haze, I thought to myself, If this is where I peak, I’m the most successful of them all to peak with Stan. How could no one have wanted to hang out with him? He was the only thing that kept me sane most days with his carefree philosophy on life. There was never a dull moment with him. Never a single second of doubt in his ability to make me smile, to make me feel good about myself. And maybe it was selfish to depend on him that much, but I hadn’t even realized I’d been doing it.

When our highs almost completely wore off, I wished Stan a goodbye and headed back home. Entering the house, Jacob was just about to exit. “Oh, hey, Bug-” He stopped and sniffed. “You smell like weed.”

“You’ll live.” I smiled and walked inside. In the kitchen, Aunt Pam was making dinner while dancing to the music on the radio. Upon my arrival, she clapped and went to hug me.

“(Y/N), how was your-” She stepped back and sniffed. “Ugh, you smell like weed…”

“Sorry.”

“I honestly don’t care. But I wanted to tell you that you should call your dad. It’s been a couple of weeks with no call. Remember he said he’d check on you every other day?”

“I remember. I’ll call him right now.” Heading upstairs to my room, I pulled out my cell phone. I accessed my contacts before pressing on my dad’s, holding the phone up to my ear. When the call was answered, there was no greeting. Just faint breathing from the other end. “Uh… Dad-”

“Hey, sweetheart,” He rushed out, sounding out of breath. “What- What did you call for?”

“What did I… Dad, you said you’d call me three times a week. It’s been two weeks with no call.”

“You’re right, you’re right, doll.” He sighed. I frowned in disgust. He never called me ‘doll’. “How’s school going? Straight A’s?”

“Um… not really,” I mumbled as I entered my bedroom, setting my backpack on the ground before flopping on my bed, sighing contently. “A couple of B’s, but I’m trying. Uh, I got the check.”

“Yeah, yeah, your allowance.” He huffed.

“Uh-huh… but you gave me twice as much.”

“Yeah, for homecoming. Pam said it was next week.”

“Oh, yeah…,” I rolled onto my back. “Almost forgot.”

“Yeah, so just… buy yourself something pretty- Listen, sweetheart, I’ve gotta go, but I promise to call you in two days.”

“Okay, Dad. Love you-” I was cut off when he abruptly hung up the phone. Sighing, I let my arm flop down beside my head. If I had to be completely honest, that was normal behavior from my dad lately. Sure, I mentioned he wasn’t present in his mind, but this was different. He was clearly occupied. Very occupied. I brushed it off as him being hard at work, but…

Something told me there was more going on with my Dad. And it scared me.

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