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snakechu · 2 years

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A primer on your Splatoon characters and how they relate to each other, if you please!

Pulls out my Google Doc

Short Version! (Yes, this is actually the short version)

Kai (Agent/Captain 3 who is brash, but becomes an aspiring leader), Cole (Agent 4 who is reserved, but breaks their shell. Does campaign 1 along with 3), and Jordan (Agent 8 who is very much traumatized, but strives to move forward) develop a polyromantic relationship during 2 and are still going strong in 3.

Kai has an older brother named Pike who is very much protective, but the good kind to prevent Kai from getting into trouble, which she can, will, and has despite his efforts. A very caring older brother who supports his sister and her friends/partners all the way. Also a weapon enthusiast and becomes Sheldon's full time assistant in 3. Also captain of his own team called Inkthority.

Kai has a full team by the name of Palette Swap in which Cole, Corey, and Star are apart of. Corey and Star are cousins with a very sibling dynamic. The two even become an indie Idol Duo by 3 called Foreshore. Corey shares a friendly rivalry with Pike before he even met Kai.

Maxwell (Neo Agent 3) escaped Octarian society when he was 9, two years after he and his father heard the Inkantation. He also escaped with his best friend, Julian, and his mom with the two having just heard the Inkantation. Max and Jules are practically brothers.

The two young Octolings met two Inklings when they turned 14, those Inklings being Nicki (cute and feminine but unhinged) and Atlas (no ounce for respecting authority), born and raised in Splatsville. The four of them formed the team Hue Havoc with Julian being the captain.

Max has a little Smallfry buddy he named Salt and raised him from an egg. Salt is the embodiment of 'no thoughts, head empty'. Loves being carried by Max while going completely limp. Likes going limp, regardless of being carried and just lays in places.

As Neo 3, Max greatly respects all the Agents before him. He shares a sibling dynamic with Captain 3, is intimidated by Agent 4 while 4 finds him endearing, and he shares mutual understanding and respect for Agent 8 and bond over their shared heritage.

For those who want the longer version (and I mean LONG you better buckle up).

I'll start off by talking about these guys!

First up is Kai Piers, who is my Agent/Captain 3. She is brash and bold who isn't afraid to speak her mind or jump into situations, which has led her to quite a bit of trouble in her youth (No hesitation when joining the New Squidbeak Splatoon at age 14). She may be reckless, but her hearts are in the right place. In 1 and 2, she is the captain of her own team dubbed Palette Swap. By Splatoon 2 (16), she has matured, but is still brash and reckless, but has learned to come up with plans before taking action... most of the time. I have yet to see Splatoon 3's story mode (21) so I'm not 100% certain on things, but I'd imagine she's fully in the mindset of Captain and is a much critical thinker than when she was younger, but that fire from her youth has not left her. She is also fond of Neo and is very much an older sister figure to them. By this point, she is fully in a polyromantic relationship with Agent's 4 and 8.

Cole Aegean, aka, Agent 4 is up next. Cole (15) met Kai the day she began her Turfing career by saving his butt from a couple of bullies (with the help of her brother), and they've been glued to the hip ever since (formed Palette Swap). He is much more reserved than Kai when it comes to taking any sort of initiative, down to the point where he can have an panic attack. Cole was actually dragged along by Kai into the New Squidbeak Splatoon (Yes, I have a two player campaign in Splatoon 1, fight me). Although he accepted the mission, he was very much a hot mess and was actively calling out Kai for how reckless she was being and how she was treating it like a game (She almost got them killed multiple times). But contrasting Kai's recklessness, Cole was much too cautious and overthought a lot, letting many opportunities get away from him. In the end, the two learned to combine their strengths to save the Great Zapfish. By 2 (17) Cole is still reserved, but has learned to be much more daring, even beginning to become charismatic. The moment he heard the Great Zapfish had been kidnapped once again, he didn't waste a second accepting his new solo mission (and received extra help, teehee). By 3 (22) you wouldn't even believe he used to be an anxiety ridden mess (It's not gone, but he's dealing with it much better now). An outsider would think him now reckless, but every move he makes is calculated and swift. No opportunity escapes him now or his Duelies. In a Polyromantic relationship with Captain 3 and Agent 8.

Now for my Agent 8, Jordan! In Splatoon 1 (14) they were present when the Calamari Inkantation was performed by the New Squidbeak Splatoon, opening their mind to the possibility that Inklings and Octarians can live in peace, despite what DJ Octavio has propagated to them during their time as a soldier. They have been unable to escape to Inkling society by 2 (16), but a chance encounter with Agent 3 would change all of that. They managed to recognize Agent 3 at the time and refused to fight her because of it, but that wasn't an option for 3, so a chase ensued with Jordan running for their life. This chase separated Jordan from 3, caused them to lose their memories, and end up in the Deepsea Metro (that I DO have an explanation for, but I'm currently writing about it RN, so no spoilers >:3). Their escape from the Deepsea came with a lot of built up trauma from going through all 80 tests for basically nothing (Mem cakes didn't provide complete memories *nudge nudge wink wink they weren't supposed to hehe*) along with the escape itself (fighting 3 was Not Fun TM). But once they reach Inkopolis, they began to live with Agent 3 and her older brother whom they've developed strong bonds with along with the rest of Pallet Swap. About a year and a half/two years later (haven't fully decided yet), all 3 Agents move into an apartment together some time after they begin their polyromantic relationship (still need to figure out how they all confess). By 3 (21) they have fully accepted and embraced their new life, thankful for every day they are able to live on the surface and thankful for the loves of their life. They never want to take anything for granted (God, I hope we get 4 and 8 content in the upcoming DLC so I can have further thoughts about my 4 and 8 during 3).

Pike Piers is Kai's older brother by two years and profreshional battler and captain of Inkthority! Pike had been living in Inkopolis alone for some time until his younger sister came to live with him just before her 14th birthday. Their relationship is a strong one, full of teasing, support, fights, and respect. Only strengthens as the two grow older. Pike is very much aware of Kai being Agent 3 and eventually the Captain of the Splatoon. His first reactions to this are panic and anger. Kai snuck off with Cole without telling him she was doing any of this during the first game, which reasonably freaked him out, as Kai had only just gotten used to Turf Wars. But after seeing what the two had done to save Inkopolis, he reluctantly allowed Kai to continue Agent work as long as she kept him updated as much as she could for the sake of his own sanity. By 2 (18) he actually assists Agent 4 during the second campaign as an assistant to Sheldon (he absolutely fanboyed getting the chance to work with him, he's a huge fan). Also in 2, he becomes the person to talk to for all of the young Agents when they need an ear, and shares a strong kinship with all of them, which only got stronger when they all began dating. By 3 (23) he is Sheldon's full time assistant and is also a weapon's and teamwork coach on the side.

Corey Humbold (16) is another teammate of Kai that she met early on along with his cousin, Star Botale. Corey is a very charismatic and confident individual who is also able to show a much more gentle and sensitive side to those he deems close. Also a good listener when he needs to be and the secondary older sibling friend among this group of six (Pike being the primary one even though Corey is older). Corey and Pike themselves have a shared friendly rivalry, with Corey once being apart of a rival team that has since disbanded (Corey also has a boyfriend that is a part of Pike's team, so there's that). Joining Kai's team has only increased the bond and rivalry between the two. In 2 (18) he also assisted Agent 4 as a source of recon and information, as he has been doing his own side research on Octarian society ever since Kai and Cole became Agents (he knows because he helped Pike to look for his sister when she joined the Splatoon). During the final confrontation in that campaign, Corey and Star become backup singers and dancers for the Squid Sisters as they performed the Calamari Inkantaion a second time (I got this idea from the art book showing a concept with DJ Octavio and Callie having backup dancers, so why not flip it). This was the beginning of Corey and Star's indie music careers in 3 (23).

And last, but not least in this group is Star Botale (15). She met Kai and Cole the same time as her cousin, Corey, and joined Palette Swap. Star is also charismatic like her cousin, but many people mistake her for seeming aloof. She is actually much more observant than people give her credit for (they realize their mistake much too late the moment she gets them with her charger skills) and is very good a reading people. She is able to say the right thing to get people to open up and then uses that for blackmailing purposes (all of which are for super petty reasons. But don't test her). She has always hopped around friends and girlfriends alike, with the only person she's ever stuck around and built a genuine bond with is Corey. But that all changed when she joined Palette Swap and found out about the New Squidbeak Splatoon. That was a ride she didn't want to hop off of. In 2 (17) also helped Agent 4 with her keen eye of environments, helping him with puzzles and weaknesses. Performed the Inkantation alongside her cousin with the Squid Sisters. By 3 (22) Corey and Star have formed Foreshore and are an indie Idol Duo.

OKAY! That was just the Splatoon 1 and 2 kiddos. I do have OCs for 3 despite me not having it. I've only shown one of four I have (Neo 3), who you can see here, here, and here... Okay, here we go, holy cow.

Neo Agent 3 is Maxwell 'Max' 'Maxie' Delta! A 14 year old Octoling who escaped with his father to Splatsville during the events of Splatoon 2 (9), but they both heard the Inkantation when Max was 7. Max was raised to become an high ranking engineer like his father and his mother was an Elite Octoling Soldier who was reported MIA 3 months after the first Great Zapfish raid and 3 months after Max and Mr. Delta heard the Inkantaion. This event led to Mr. Delta wanting to wait to see if his wife would somehow return so his whole family could escape and it led to Max building a grudge against the society he was born in because of how long it took for it to tell him his mom is missing (AKA, this is all set up for what I hope becomes a really interesting and fun character arc for the Story Mode, DON'T SAY ANYTHING I'LL REWORK IT IF I HAVE TO THIS IS BASICALLY ALL BETA). He will never know what happens to his mother, but hopes against hope that she's somehow still out there and will find her way back to him. Max during his first year or so on the surface ends up finding an abandoned Salmonid egg. His instinct to protect came over and raised the egg until it hatched into a Smallfry, which he named him Salt. Salt is 'no thoughts, head empty' at all times and goes limp whenever Max carries him in his arms. He does this a lot. Salt also just goes limp anyway, looking like a dopey plush. He also 'bleps' a lot, which Max finds adorable.

Up next is Max's best friend, Julian 'Jules' Lewis, headstrong and loyal to a fault! Jules was practically raised alongside Max and are basically brothers. Jules in Octarian society was being raised to become a soldier, and was quite the prodigy as well, the only thing holding him back at the time was age and the inability to shift properly. His mother was a weapon producer, as she was unable to become an Elite Soldier due to an accident that left her left eye blind and left ear deaf. Jules's father was never present in his life, as he was the product of a one night stand. Jules didn't end up hearing the Inkantaion until he was 9 years old, during Splatoon 2. He only heard of the song through Max, but hearing the song himself was a completely different experience. He wanted to go with Max. It took much convincing to get his mother to go along with them, but she eventually agreed for her son. When the two boys turned 14, the two moved into an apartment together in Splatsville to being their Turfing careers. Jules ends up becoming the captain and strategist of Hue Havoc, with him and Max becoming the founders.

The first new friend the Octolings meet is an Inkling their age named Nicki 'Nick' Eris! At first glance, Nick appears to be a very cute and friendly face, but that is only a façade. She's an Inkling who causes chaos on purpose and is terrifying on the battlefield with her blaster game. It was chance for the young Octolings and Nick to meet, but the two immediately wanted to become friends with her after a couple of Turf War matches with her. She'd never been friends with Octolings before, but she agreed on the premise that it might be fun for awhile. Turns out, the boy's reactions and interactions with her have been 100% genuine and all because of her skill. Her appearance never factored into any decision they made. She has never met anyone who didn't want to try an take advantage of her outward femininity (what started her toying with people in the first place), so to meet these two who are so genuine, she thought they were naïve at first. The friendship she has with those two is something she cherishes, but she'd be caught dead rather than admit that out loud.

Finally, we have Atlas 'Atti' Tide, a 14 year old Inkling with not a single ounce of respect for those above her. All her life, she has constantly been told what she needed to do and what she needed to be. Her reaction to that was "That can all go to hell!" She forges her own path with her bare hands. That first step began with buying a ticket to the heart of Splatsville to make a name for herself, and herself alone. She met the trio at the Tableturf Dojo and destroyed all three of them at it. Frustrated, Jules challenged Atti to a private one on one Splat Zones match. Atti, having to play clever, managed to pull a victory, but fully acknowledged that Jules is terrifying to fight ("It's like fighting a trained soldier!" "...Hahaha... Yeah.....") and Jules did the same. Her energetic gall was a perfect fit for the team, and Hue Havoc came into the spotlight.

THAT TOOK SO FREAKING LONG OKAY BRAIN. Seriously, if you decided to read all of that, give yourself a cookie because OMG EVEN I WASN'T EXPECTING TO WRITE THAT MUCH THAT TOOK ACTUAL HOURS!

...But yeah, these are my Splatoon OCs :D

#Splatoon #Splatoon 2 #Splatoon 3 #Agent 3 #Captain 3 #Agent 4 #Agent 8 #Neo Agent 3 #Splatoon OCs #Snakechu writes #Snakechu answers

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lyrical-lovely · 29 days

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Anime Review - Love Live! School Idol Project (S1)

I have a very deep connection to the Love Live franchise, but the original anime was actually kind of disappointing... This is the first anime I've reviewed on this page that had a second season I declined to watch. I might come back to it down the line, but I'm gonna take a break for now.

Watch Love Live! School Idol Project if:

- You enjoy music and anime about music

- You like the premises of sports anime but got tired of baseball/basketball/soccer

- You like women (seriously- there's no voiced men in the entire series)

Do NOT watch Love Live! School Idol Project if:

- You are sensitive to the usual 2010s anime nonsense (minor sexual harassment, sexualization of minors, insensitive discussion of weight and diet)

- You want a cast of likeable characters (don't worry, I'm gonna touch on this below)

- You like anime with tidy endings

SPOILERS below, I have to talk freely about this, sorry.

Nobody here knows this yet, but I've been into Love Live for about 10 years now, just before Aqours debuted. And let me tell you- based on the cards and stories in the game, I was a big fan of u's because I thought their characters were much more complex than they are in the later seasons. This is still true, but after watching the anime, I hate basically all of them. But let's go back to the beginning.

Love Live is an anime about a girl named Honoka who finds out her school, with a history so extensive that her grandmother and mother both attended, is closing due to a lack of applications. After seeing another school's successful idol group, Honoka decides to recruit her friends Umi and Kotori to join her. She runs into opposition at just about every possible point- struggling with getting venues, a difficult student council president, troubles with advertising, arguments within the group, et cetera.

In order to fully understand Love Live, you need to have a grasp of the context- Love Live is actually a sports anime! Many of the issues that Honoka and her friends, which make up the group u's, run into are based on cliches from sports anime, and the characters are also based on sports anime cliches. For example, Nico ran the old idol club before all the other members quit because her demands were too high. Eli is the overzealous student council president who thinks the idol group is giving the school a bad image. Hanayo is shy. Maki is moody and difficult, but a real talent. Do you see it? Replace those names with male names and you've got the ingredients for a perfect baseball club.

Anyway, I had very high hopes for this anime, so it's my own fault I was disappointed. The number of main characters, combined with the sheer volume of hurdles that the group faces on their way to stardom, means that the complex characters I had gotten to know so well through the games were largely left undeveloped. Instead of the cool, calm, and collected traditional woman that Umi's character wants to be, we get a frazzled mess who's being dragged into antics that really don't seem to suit her at all. Instead of deeply struggling with her relationship with her own femininity, Rin just says "nya" a few times every episode and that's literally her entire arc. Seriously, it's a shame because I know she gets development in the second season, but she adds nothing but wasted time to the first season. And as a result of these failed complex characters, most of the Love Live idols to come would ultimately be shallow. I could go on and on about the failed character arcs in this show, but that ultimately brings me to the plot.

Nothing. Goes. Right. Absolutely nothing can be easy or insignificant. Each performance is for the fate of a school, and each hurdle seems nearly impassable. This would be great if the anime was supposed to be a thriller, but its target demographic doesn't want that from it. What young girls wanted to watch was a cute anime about girls wearing dresses and singing, and what we got instead was just a barrage of struggles. There was almost zero downtime, no cute little interactions between the characters that had no significance to the plot. Forgive me, but I think those mundane moments that develop relationships between characters are part of what makes an anime, specifically an idol anime where the emphasis is supposed to be ON the characters, good. In the end, they end up withdrawing from the competition because Honoka collapsed (cliche) and that's where they leave it. Fortunately, I think by this point the anime had been approved for a second season, so I think the dramatic ending was a ploy to draw viewers back for next year.

That's enough complaining, though, because there were some highlights. The music is wonderful (despite the lack of variety between the songs, ALL of which are about doing your best and following your dreams) and the costumes are cute by 2010s standards. They're a little campy now. Furthermore, this series was one of the pioneers of 3D idol performance animation integrated with 2D closeups of the characters. The 3D animation has improved significantly since then due to better software and computing power, but for the time, the animation was good. I also think the color palette was well chosen for this anime, and the voice acting was stellar.

Anyway. This turned into a rant about all my problems with Love Live, but I think any potential viewers should be aware of its shortcomings before investing ~5 hours into it. Overall - 4/10. Amazing for the idol anime genre and I really love Love Live as a franchise, but man, this anime was not for me. Thanks for listening.

#anime #anime review #animation #commentary #love live #idol anime #idol

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belzinone · 5 years

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sexuality & gender diversity headcanons.

// this turned out... so very... L O N G. so answers under the cut <3

@rulerofthesewalls asked:

when did your muse first realise they’re not attracted to the gender(s) that they aren’t?

// her mother risa was always pushy about growing up and marrying a rich dude they could mooch off of. despite being a bi disaster herself and spending most of her youth in an arguably feminist tirade, she pushes a lot of sexist ideas onto her daughter as a half-joke. bel always brushed her off, but as everyone around her started getting crushes and dating and talking about how hot they thought people were, she just couldn’t relate. she wasn’t into people the conventional way or felt “human” urges the way other people did. it probably really hit home for her when she tried to “fix” herself by forcing herself into an intimate relationship with a guy she hardly knew, yet everyone around her seemed to consider conventionally attractive. it probably didn’t last very long at all and left her with the impression that there was something wrong with her. her issue wasn’t that she experienced same gender attraction, rather she experienced no superficial attraction at all.

when did your muse first become aware that they’re not cis?

// it started to hit her sometime around puberty, when her body started changing into something she didn’t feel like was hers. she wouldn’t have had the vocabulary to explain her feelings, nor would she have known it was aberrant enough to warrant mention. it was really easy to conflate feelings of minor dysphoria with being body conscious and having poor self esteem, which is what she thought was going on. her starting to bind was probably more of a teller, yet she didn’t really know why her breasts bothered her so much. it wouldn’t help that dressing them up in private helped her feel better, but as soon as she was in company again, resigned to intense shame. because she could never feel one way about herself, it was hard for her to pinpoint exactly what it was that confused her so much about her body.

how much does your muse’s gender identity and presentation differ from one another? is this a source of issues, or does the relationship between the two feel natural?

// it depends on where she is, but it changes. sometimes, she dresses really androgynously and binds. other times, she dresses up like a high femme. her true gender identity is somewhere between the two, but she finds herself caught between the way she wants to present herself and the way she thinks she is. she doesn’t feel “woman” enough to dress really feminine but doesn’t feel completely comfortable dressing more masculine or binding either.

how does your muse feel about not being cis or straight? are they content with it, proud, ashamed? would the situation be the same if the culture or surrounding support systems were different?

// currently, she’s not concretely aware that she’s queer. if she knew her source of discomfort with her body and her identity had a name, she’d probably find peace in it and even devote herself to activism. it’s complicated for her, though, because she’s not even “conventionally queer” in the sense that she’s not concretely gay or trans or even bi. her sexuality is defined by a lack of one and her gender is also defined outside the binary.

// her issues from feeling “woman enough” are also both identity and biologically driven. she has a pituitary adenoma, which throws off her hormones and renders her infertile as a result (she also doesn’t menstruate). however, she has an intense desire to want to be a mother and in not being biologically capable of doing so (without medical intervention or a miracle) she feels like she’s a failure of a woman.

// if society as a whole didn’t put such harsh gender stereotypes on women (to exist for the purpose of producing children and solely for male consumption), she probably would have a much easier time existing outside of the normative. furthermore, if the queer community itself wasn’t so hell bent on gate-keeping the more marginal identities (namely, aspec and nonbinary) she’d have a much easier time discovering she wasn’t alone and just as valid as anyone else.

what are your muse’s feelings towards stereotypes relating to their identity? do they affect their self-image, or how they perceive others?

// before figuring out her identity, she’d believe that she’s frigid, broken, and inhuman, some things wrongfully attributed to people on the ace spectrum. (her wallflower name reflects this. it’d be so awesome to write her reclaiming it omg) it’d trouble her immensely, but she wouldn’t know what else to do but accept the rhetoric people place on her: that her general lack of drive makes her inhuman. deep in the back of her mind, however, it’d hurt her because she’s completely capable of experiencing platonic love (as well as minor sexual and romantic attractions depending on her interactions.)

// with regards to her demi identity, a lot of people invalidate it as just being a “tomboy”, which isn’t necessarily true. she wouldn’t like being called a boy at all and find it really offensive, triggering even because that’d tap into her feelings of inadequacy as a woman. being a tomboy is also considered “cool” (as opposed to boys being feminine being considered shameful but that’s a whole other deal) and it upsets her to think that someone would think her inner turmoil as something to be proud of.

@shuuhuu asked: // about 18 & 7

how does their family feel about the matter? friends? coworkers?—and does their thoughts matter to your muse?

// risa might be a little disappointed to learn that she might not have grandkids (more so that she’s less likely to have a sugar son-in-law lol) but otherwise won’t have much to say about bel being ace. she’d lowkey mourn the loss of having that part of her identity in common with her, but on the other hand, bel would be a little glad that she doesn’t share her mother’s wild sexuality.

// her brother, however, would more than overcompensate for their mother’s lack of enthusiasm. he’d be fiercely protective of and coddle her in a bit of a problematic way that’s infantilizing, but bel would appreciate it nonetheless. however, if she does ever find herself in a relationship in a verse where her brother’s still alive, he’d be a terror and get on her nerves. all he’d want is to make sure her partner (more likely a boyfriend to warrant his most extreme responses) isn’t pushing her too hard or causing her much trouble, but bel’d think he was taking his paranoia way to far and even interfering with her self discoveries.

// as for her friends and coworkers, they probably wouldn’t know unless they were more closely related to her personal life. she’d stay quiet during certain conversations and casually admit that she’d have nothing to contribute to the discourse of who was the current hottest celebrity. if the situation ever came that she could open up, she’d do so very slowly and carefully, since being aspec and demifem isn’t nearly as mainstream as being gay or trans or nonbinary even.

how public is your muse about their gender / sexuality / romantic attraction?

// convoluted as they seem even within the queer community, as soon as she figures out that labels that suit her exist, bel’d be publicly out to any circumstance that calls for it. she certainly wouldn’t be as out as i am or even make jokes about it, but if the situation’s safe enough she wouldn’t necessarily hide her identity. if anything, she’d refrain from talking about it at length. surely, she wouldn’t go through the trouble of explaining what her identity means to someone. if they’re not already familiar with the terms, she won’t make a big deal about it. it’s a can of worms she’d rather not open unless she was 100% confident said person wouldn’t react poorly to it.

#// i went so ham on this omg #// thanks for all these thooooooooo <3 #// it's not as simple as yes she likes girls or yea she's transgender #// decoding her sexuality has to be a murky grey mess #// now you see her now you dont #// now you think you see her but you dont really better luck next time askdjfnaskfn #i'm not bad ; i just muse that way . aspec #DYSPHORIC AND DESOLATE . demifemme #// i also took the liberty of answering these with a modern connotation #// bc trying to make sense of this in the snk world would make it so much different like #// when she was a kid her mother made her dress like a boy but she wanted to look like a girl #// then when she grew up she stopped feeling so much like a girl #// also i venture that sexuality isn't much of a deal in the snk world but the lack of one would be more of one?#// perhaps?#// that'd make things especially unfortunate for her asdfnask #// also gender roles don't SEEM as rigid but still #// her relationship with her femininity is still a mess that troubles her more than it should

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s-brant · 3 years

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Pirates and Princesses (8/8)

(gif: @beccs) (PART SEVEN) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: JJ must confront his childhood trauma when returning home for the first time since his dad went to jail and prevent it from sabotaging his new relationship. Meanwhile, something sinister happens at the Chateau that brings Y/N face to face with her grief over John B’s death.

Word Count: 13.4k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, parent/child abuse, mental illness, post-traumatic stress disorder, grief, and fluff.

A/N: Welcome to the final chapter of Tokens! This one has a little bit of everything in it, but it also has detailed scenes about JJ and his dad, so proceed with caution if you’re easily triggered by that topic. The love you guys show this fic warms my heart so much, so thanks to anyone who stuck with this story until this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

Now that she has been sentenced to both punishments, one as a consequence of the fight with Kacey and the other as a consequence of the stunt she pulled with JJ to break out of ISS, Y/N can confidently say that out of school suspension is superior to in-school suspension by a long shot. Instead of sitting in a humid room with Alec for the duration of multiple school days, she's allowed to stay home, go out surfing, and do whatever she wants in lieu of doing classwork.

She promised herself not to make it a habit, promising the invisible presence of John B that she likes to pretend follows her around that she will never get herself into trouble again, but she sees no problem in enjoying her suspension while it lasts.

For the first few days of her suspension, JJ skipped school to spend it with her. Their memories of the conversation they had at three in the morning on Sunday were fuzzy, but not missing entirely. She noticed a difference in his behavior for the first few hours after they woke up under the tree together for the second time in one week. It wasn't a difference in their relationship or how he treated her, it was a difference in him.

He was quieter than usual as they cleaned up cans of beer and tossed them into the recycling, sending pictures to Kie while she was in class after she made them promise not to throw them in the trash. Rather than cracking jokes or making casual conversation with her, JJ made his way around the yard with the recycling bin in his hands and his head in the clouds. It disappeared as the day progressed, but for a little while, he wasn't completely there.

Today, he went into school instead of ditching to spend extra time with her in between shifts at work and time spent with their friends. Since they can't exceed three consecutive absences without a doctor’s note and he doesn't own a printer or laptop to forage the header from a doctor's office, he had no choice but to part from her this morning.

He bites his lip to contain his smug facial expression at the recollection of her wake up call for him. The hand holding his locker door open for him to lean on in the midst of his not-so-wholesome thoughts of her squeezes the metal hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

The curtains weren't shut all the way when they fell asleep before midnight last night, allowing a shaft of sunlight to shine in and land on his face. But that wasn't what woke him up from the dream he was having. In fact, the reality he opened his eyes to was a hell of a lot better than any dream he remembered.

Most of his memory of those moments spent suspended between consciousness and unconsciousness consisted of feeling her pressing a kiss to his shoulder, then her hands rubbing up and down his waist to slip lower and lower until they settled on the waistband of his underwear. It was then that he woke to find her looking up at him for permission from where she peppered kisses along his chest.

Their eyes met right as she kissed the edge of his nipple with this pleading, needy look that he took pride in causing without actively attempting to. She woke up on the brink of coming undone from a pleasant—to put it tamely—dream about him. With a glimpse at the time displayed on the alarm clock, it didn't take much for her to roll over to wake him up.

It ended with her beneath the sheet, finishing what she started Friday afternoon until he was clutching the pillow beneath his head in the midst of his orgasm. It happened so fast, a fault of how hot he found it to wake up to her wanting him so badly, but it felt slower than it truly was in the early morning haze of exhaustion they felt.

The memory as he relives it is as heady as it felt the first time around. He sees it in fractions; her eyes looking up at his, warm palms finding the familiar planes of his muscular body with the exploratory touch of someone who's never traveled it before, and the intense sensations he felt at the end...It's easy for him to stand here and lose himself in it. Despite the class he has to go to, he bargains with himself for one more second spent in the paradise of his memories before he has to come back to reality.

Reality, as his shitty luck would have it, comes in the form of a familiar feminine voice chirping from behind his back as he replays his morning bliss.

"It's good to see you're alive and well, Maybank."

He decides, based on who he knows he'll see when he turns around, that he might invest in a sharpie to write "Bang head here" on the inside of his locker door for instances like these where he'd rather suffer brain damage than speak to someone he can't stomach the presence of.

When he turns to see Kacey with one arm still stretched to hold his locker open, he doesn't bother concealing the genuine reaction from his face for the sake of her feelings. Any care he had for her and her feelings was thrown to the wind as soon as she decided she could steal from and put her hands on his girl last week. However, after a second of thought, a condescending smirk finds its way to his face.

He says, jerking his chin to vaguely gesture at her bruised up face, "Purple really suits your complexion. It makes your eyes pop, don't you think?"

Though the swelling of her black eye has deflated in the days since the fight that’ll soon tally up to a week, the verbal jab hits right where it intended to if the light leaving her eyes tells him anything. She bounces back after a second, though, ever the relentless pest they've come to see her as.

She offers a sickeningly sweet, yet fake smile to mirror the one gracing his striking features and spins so her back meets the locker beside his, allowing herself to invade his space further.

A collection of Y/N's stickers decorates the inside of his locker door that he briefly entertained the idea of designating as a place to bang his head against. They range from girly, glittery ones to those he willingly picked when she gave him the choice. Whenever they're at his locker together, she sticks one on the inside, and the evidence of the habit catches Kacey's wandering eyes.

Her fingertips brush against the surface of the sticker-covered metal while she ignores his protest of, "Can you not touch my stuff?" to inspect them. Since one of the Pogues in particular is famous for her endless supply of stickers, her expression sours at the thought of the girl responsible for them.

She spares him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye as she continues to analyze the sticker collection against his instructions not to, asking, "Why weren't you at the bonfire?" A failed attempt at a seductive look in his direction makes him fight not to roll his eyes. "After how last year's ended, I thought you wouldn't miss it for the world."

JJ doesn't bother to take a second to think things through before he reaches to slam the door closed with her hand still outstretched inside of it. Watching her pull it away just in time to avoid jamming it in the locker probably pleases him more than it should, but he can't help it. His hand catches on the edge of the door, halting it in place right before it closes where her hand previously rested.

She doesn't look too happy with him when he opens the door with no harm done except for the drop of her stomach when he initially pretended to swing it shut on her bruised knuckles. She didn't get many shots in on Y/N when they fought, but apparently it was enough.

He doesn't bother with the fake niceties she's giving him after the disrespect she showed him, his friends, and, most importantly, his girlfriend. The fact that she thinks she has any right to breathe in his direction, let alone flirt with him, after she stole JB's bandana is criminal. 'Cause not only did she mess with Y/N, she messed with John B on multiple levels, and his loyalty to his best friend hasn't disappeared with death. Kie and Y/N told him everything she said about their departed friend in the locker room last Thursday.

But he's smart enough to know what'll hurt her more, so he doesn't go for the general scolding he imagined giving her in his head. Since he was told everything about the encounter in the locker room, he knows she's still holding their history together near and dear to her heart.

"We stayed home," he says, casual and cool as always, with added emphasis on the first word, "You know how it is, my girl doesn't like parties. Especially not ones with kooks."

Hook, line, and sinker.

She scoffs, "Your girl?"

Looking at her now, he wonders if she was always this stupid, or if this is a new development she's had in the year since he last spent more than a minute or two at a time with her. It’s easier to trick her than it was with Kie and Y/N a few days ago, and those poor girls flew into that trap like moths to a flame.

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

The ire is visible in the way her face tenses up in places, her lips pressing together a little more firmly and her forehead creasing between the brows.

"Doesn't your, um, history bother her?" she asks, and he's gotta give her credit for being a sneaky little shit when given the chance. The girl takes every possible opening she can to strike for a potential weakness. "No offense, but you kinda get around."

He shrugs this time, deciding to drop his casual act and aim straight for the jugular.

"She likes having someone who knows how to fuck her right, actually, but I really appreciate the concern."

Much like Kie's reaction to their matching tattoos in the hot tub the other night, her jaw is unhinged to meet the unswept hallway floor they stand on. It makes him wish Y/N weren't suspended in order for her to see the gobsmacked reaction Kacey has to the harsh dismissal. Though he wouldn't want to incite an extra round of the Kacey vs Y/N WWE showdown by having her watch another girl flirt with him and essentially call him a slut upon rejection, he knows she'd get a kick out of it.

This one's for you, baby, he thinks with a quiet laugh to himself and turns his focus to the sticker collection she so lovingly crafted.

There are plenty of summer themed ones left over from the same pack he gifted her for her birthday with the surfboard sticker she used to tease him, as well as a newer genre of Valentine's Day stickers she started using the closer they grew since first getting together. They're mostly different colored candy hearts with corny phrases ranging from "U SXY THING" to the classic "BE MINE" and one printed with "ANGEL" on it—his favorite by far.

However, others are random ones from her endless stash built up over the years from birthdays and holidays deemed worthy enough by her dad to stop by Dollar Tree for a new pack, so the one he sets his attention on is likely meant for teachers or coaches to give to their students. The opportunity appears too good to be true to him when it clicks, but it isn't.

He peels the sticker off of the locker door, careful not to disturb the ones around it, and leans in closer to her to place it on the front of her tank top.

"Leave us alone or I won't stop her next time," JJ says lowly, past the point of civility, then backs away to slam his locker shut for real this time as his voice raises back to a normal volume, "And keep John B's name out of your mouth, got it?"

All she can do is look down at the sticker placed on her shirt with squinted eyes to try and read it while he walks off in the direction of his next class. It tears away from the fabric with a soft noise, and when she finally reads it, she rolls her eyes.

“Good Try!”

Walking out of school to see the Twinkie parked in the usual spot Y/N takes when she isn't suspended is a delightful treat he didn't know to expect after a rough day in class and his run in with Kacey. His head was hung low on his way to Kie's car to hitch a ride to his house before going home to the Chateau, since he had some things to pick up with his dad out of the picture for the near future, but then he heard her greet them.

JJ's body melts into hers upon contact, and he nearly pushes her up against the closed passenger side door of the van with how hard he hugs her. Though he doesn't want to acknowledge it, his dad has been living in his thoughts more than usual today. Ever since he texted him goodbye, he's been withdrawn inside of his head more and more, and after today's inconveniences, the rising anxiety of his plan to visit home has him two seconds from losing his mind.

Her eyes widen at his zeal, meeting Kie's concerned gaze from over the shoulder she rests her chin on. She stands with her keys swinging around her finger as she watches the couple embrace one another. In an answer to the silent question Y/N asks her in their stare, her lips mouth the words, "His dad," to her.

Deep down, Y/N had a feeling.

It began with his impromptu request to run away with her a few days ago and extended into his uncharacteristically reserved attitude the next morning that receded somewhat, but has yet to fully disappear. There is a part of her that's upset that he hasn't come to her to talk about it, to communicate the way they swore they would, yet she also knows it isn't that simple.

She has to remind herself that she knew what she was getting herself into with him. That's not to say that dating her must be a walk in the park for him, it isn't.

She knows based on the amount of times he had to hold her as she cried, or the time he curtailed her panic attack in this very parking lot, that she hasn't made it easy for him in the aftermath of John B's death. But it's because she knows how it feels that she has such patience with his communication issues.

It's not a conscious choice most times, it's an involuntary blockage preventing the words from being spoken no matter how desperately they long to be. They may have made a promise, but she won't chastise him for succumbing to the same pitfalls as her. It’d be hypocritical.

"Bad day?" she asks.

Her voice is tender with him, prodding gently for a clue as to why he pounced on her on sight. He sinks further into her arms at the sound and lets the sanctity of her touch sway him into submission. Everything about her sets him at ease, if only for a second. Her hand lifts the beat-up red hat from his head to allow the other to brush through his hair.

There's a hum of agreement that she feels vibrating through the center of his chest into hers, and her arms pull tighter around his shoulders in response. This time, when she looks up to see Kie there, she's waving a quick goodbye and setting off toward her car, clearly giving JJ the space he needs.

"We can go to the beach," she says softly, "I have a towel in the back of the van, we can just lay there and talk about it if you want."

The idea of her kind offer to him should add to the comfort he finds in her embrace. It should make him nod and whisper his gratitude to her for being the one person that knows him better than anyone, but it brings him back to the gloomy headspace he was in before seeing her.

It started as a minor distraction when he first arrived at school after carpooling with Kie. It followed him in the quieter moments, only making appearances when he wasn't distracted with more pressing matters. It began as that and built the closer the day came to ending. The sooner his inevitable visit back to his childhood home came, the more he lost himself in his fear, reverting back to a state of helplessness he now occupies with no small amount of shame.

His bottom lip trembles with the urge to cry.

"Can we stop somewhere on the way home first?"

The last place she expected him to drive the Twinkie is here.

As they made their way down each street, taking each turn necessary to bring them closer to the house he seldom let her go to over the course of their lifelong friendship, she felt her heart begin to race. And now, as the van rolls to a stop in the yard in front of his house, she has swallow back the lump in her throat at the sight of it.

She has only been here a few times.

The first time, she was seven years old.

It was a sweltering summer morning in the Outer Banks for her and John B as they set off to retrieve their friend after he missed their plans to meet up at the Chateau for a day of having fun, riding bikes, and playing on the boat. Pirates and Princesses was her favorite game to play with them because JJ would switch roles with her halfway through when she grew tired of being the damsel John B had to rescue from the most cruel and vicious Captain Jesse James Maybank.

The HMS Pogue would rock beneath his feet as he marched across the deck of the boat and took her place as the kidnapped Princess Routledge. He handed off his "sword" to her, a stick he found in the yard, and stood at the edge of the boat with his hands behind his back as though he were a tied up damsel in distress for her to hold captive. The sun setting behind them laid a picturesque backdrop that made the scene all the more vivid to their imaginative young minds.

The boat floated in the afternoon current as John B approached the pair with his best pretend face of worry for the fair Princess Maybank, who had the sharp sword of the pirate queen pressing into his throat with the threat of death should he have tried to escape.

Sometimes, she'd let John B advance on them and tie make believe rope around her wrists and ankles while he and Princess Maybank claimed their victory. Other times, they'd get backed up until the heels of her sneakers hung off the edge of the slippery deck. One move from her brother would have her yell something along the lines of not taking either of them alive, then she'd let her and JJ fall back into the marsh together with gleeful laughs infiltrating the humid air upon their return to the surface.

On the day he didn't show up, none of that happened. She and John B rode their bikes together along sidewalks until they pulled into a driveway marked with the address number he remembered from the other time he sought him out to play before.

Y/N didn't understand what they were hearing when they pushed their kickstands down and called out for their friend, but John B's little face blanched at the sound flooding out of the opened windows of the dilapidated yellow house. It was a combination of banging against the walls, glass shattering, and childlike shouts of frustration and pain. Her big brother placed himself in front of her protectively when the front door opened and smacked against the side of the house, but it wasn't his dad storming out of the house, it was JJ.

His eyes widened at the sight of the siblings standing there, and his heart dropped to his stomach at the realization that they heard it. Maybe not all of it, but based on how the girl peeking out around John B's shoulder looked at him, they heard some.

The van is parked in the exact same place their bikes once were, the exact place she and John B stood years ago when they were first confronted with the harsh reality about their best friend's home life, and he looks like he has fully backpedaled into the state of mind his childhood self inhabited. Even when he turns the key in the ignition and lets the rumbling engine sputter down in silence, he sits in the driver's seat with his lip drawn between his teeth in thought.

Yet as soon as she summons the courage to say something, he takes a deep breath and opens the door without a warning or the typical instruction for her to stay in the car. He doesn't tell her to follow him in, nor does he order her to stay out as he used to when his dad still lived inside. He gives her the choice to make on her own, and, when faced with the opportunity to support him or stay outside like the confused little girl she once was, she chooses the first option.

Her swift steps kick dirt up from the earth onto her ankles as she follows him out of the van to the front steps of the house. She tries not to make her concern for him as evident as it'd be without her intervention on her way up the porch, but it's impossible to erase every sign of it from her face.

It isn't a particularly special or scary house. It's a normal home that'd likely look more inviting if JJ were still living here to mow the lawn and tend to the household upkeep his father saddled him with since he was old enough to be put to work. But she knows better than to trust the street appeal. As he takes her hand to lead them through the threshold of the haunted structure, she is overcome with a sense of creeping trepidation that she can't shake.

"You're sure he isn't here?" she asks.

The entryway is crowded with stacks of mail his father wasn’t bothered to open, as well as empty cardboard boxes that once held cans of beer that are scattered, empty, in various places around the house. Her question is answered by the state of the rooms they breeze past in the direction of his bedroom, but she needed something to say to fill the silence. With them, they usually don’t feel uncomfortable not speaking to each other, but this feels different.

The way he stares out in front of him with his hand squeezing hers hard enough to cut off circulation unnerves her more than the tainted energy of the house itself. He isn't himself. He's a shell of the JJ they know and love, the JJ who is most comfortable tucked away in the safe walls of the Chateau with their friends, not here. If anything, how he is while he's here is the antithesis of his behavior while living with her.

Ever since John B died, he's practically moved in with her. When they're hidden away in her house without the reminders of his home life in sight, he's usually the caretaker of the relationship. It comes naturally to their dynamic, both with him being slightly older and his promise to take care of her, but everything is flipped here. It's an alternate reality for him, or, perhaps, actual reality smacking him in the face after a carefully constructed two months in utopia with her.

They come to a stop in front of his closed bedroom door.

"He's gone," he says, not even sparing a glance at her for reasons she can't decipher, "He texted me a few days ago to say goodbye."

With that, he turns the doorknob and lets the door swing open to reveal the bedroom she only saw one other time.

The second time, she was thirteen years old.

It was a Friday.

Since his dad was supposed to be at work, they stopped at his house on their way home from school exactly like they did today so he could share with their friends what he got from his cousin the night before. Being the good girl she was, she didn't even know what he was showing her when he dug it out of the backpack in the bottom of his closet.

Her brows furrowed at the ziploc bag, more specifically the contents inside of it. She was knelt down on the floor in front of the opened closet door with her shoulder pressed up against his to inspect it. The dried green cluster of a plant didn't look like anything she'd seen before, and she couldn't help but ask him what the hell it was rather than react the way he knew the others would.

"What is it? It looks like dried up moss."

JJ laughed and pulled another bag with rolling papers and a grinder stowed inside.

"It's weed. My cousin Ricky gave me a discount since—"

He halted mid-sentence abruptly enough to startle her, his head turning in the direction of where he heard a trunk pulling up to the front of the house. Her stare was still set on where he was holding the plastic bags in his hands, and she noticed, after he stopped speaking in reaction to his dad coming home, that his hands began trembling. It was so minimal, she almost didn't catch it until she saw the bag wavering under the light coming in from his window.

Before she could open her mouth to say anything more, she felt his hands on her shoulders shoving her into the closet. He followed in closely behind her and crawled in until they were both crammed into the confined space together. With the closet doors shut in front of them, he clamped a hand over her mouth, whispering in her ear for her to be quiet.

She stands with her arms crossed over herself in the center of his room, and though nothing has yet to be said or done to convince her anything is wrong, that's the exact reason why she feels so unnerved by the entire experience of coming here.

He's silent.

The closet doors are wide open as he stuffs the rest of the clothes he had yet to bring to the Chateau into the biggest bag he could find. He rips through his belongings in a fit of melancholy driven anger. His thoughts are swirling with similar memories to the ones she conjures from being here again, but his are tinged with a darkness hers don't have, even with hearing him crying in pain as a child and hiding in the closet with his hand smothering her mouth to evade his dad.

JJ visibly grimaces at the memories he's forced to relive in flashes with every glimpse he gets of the room he spent so much time hiding in. It used to be more tolerable to be here, or at least easier to suffer through. At least he was used to it before, but he got so accustomed to life somewhere else that the second he was confronted with coming back, he started to fall apart.

Whatever he can't live without, he finds space for it in the bag and prepares to leave the rest behind. But every object he touches and step he takes around the room brings him back to the person who he spent his adolescence simultaneously fleeing and wanting more from. More notably, it brings him back to the train of thought that has been nagging him ever since he texted him over the weekend.

The third and final time she came here was over the summer.

It happened right before Hurricane Agatha waged war on the island, when none of the Pogues heard from JJ for two days after he said he had to go home to help his dad with something. She didn't want to track him down to his house after they went over twenty-four hours without a single message. She didn't want to have to go back to the house that gave her chills to think about, let alone go to again after they hid in his closet when they were younger, but he gave her no other choice.

What was she supposed to do except go check on him where he last said he'd be? After all, if she lived in the hazardous environment he did, he'd do the exact same for her. If their friends were involved in her thoughts at the time, they would've gone out on a limb to say he would've gone beyond what she did to protect her if the situation were flipped. If he knew someone was hurting her, he would've come in swinging first and asked questions later, but, in her defense, he strictly told her to never come back to his house. By walking over in the first place, she was breaking one of the fundamental rules of their friendship.

Nevertheless, she found herself crouching around the side of his house to find his bedroom window and check if he was in there. Kie and Pope weren't aware of what was happening with his dad yet, but she and John B accidentally found out years ago, so she wasn't wondering why he wasn't answering them, she was wondering if he was alive.

Part of her truly thought underneath it all that Luke might've killed him. He might've been too drunk or high and went too far when beating him, too far to the point where he didn't want to risk going to jail to take him to the hospital for help. She couldn't live with herself if she didn't check, and if he got pissed at her for showing up against his wishes and didn't want to speak to her ever again, she could live with that.

She knocked on his window in a cadenced beat loud enough for it to heard through the room but not any further. After the first series of knocks, no one came to the window. It ripped her heart to pieces to wonder if she'd see him again as she continued to knock and allowed the sound to increase in volume in hopes that maybe he was asleep, but it didn't bring anyone to the window.

It wasn't until she turned back around to go to the front of the house again that she bumped right into the solid wall of his chest and was pushed back up against the house. The question of what she was doing there was on the tip of his tongue, but she said something that stopped him from asking it.

Her arms were thrown around his shoulders in a desperate bear hug.

"Oh God, JJ, you scared me half to death!" she cried into the front of his shirt, "I thought he killed you!"

He can't help but think of it as he packs his belongings away for a final time to bid his hellish childhood home goodbye: What kind of life are they going to have together if they can't get off this island? Running away may have been an idealistic drunken fantasy for him to entertain after his conversation with Pope got him to admit his true feelings for her, but they both know his consistency can't be trusted.

One moment, he's planning to tell her. The next, a day like today comes along, sweeps his legs out from beneath his body, and he's questioning whether it's worth it to force her to put up with his fickle commitment to her. It isn't fair to her, is it?

Right now is just about when he'd normally start to hyperventilate with an oncoming wave of panic, and he does, but he can't let it fully sweep into him with her here. He fights the urge to smack his head with the heel of his palm, as if that'd forcibly remove the poisonous thoughts infiltrating his mind and ruining the careful work they've done together to remedy their issues with communicating their feelings.

Just like you ruin everything, a thought whispers in the corner of his mind. What made you think this would be any different?

His actions around the room have turned somewhat aimless and distracted, which she notices as soon as he starts to disintegrate into a mess of heavy breaths and self-sabotaging thoughts. She picks up on the shift in his energy as soon as the anxiety starts to wash over him, and she'll be damned if she continues to stand here quietly to let it happen.

It's one thing if he's being silent because being here upsets him, or if he simply doesn't know what to say, but she refuses to let him tailspin into a mental breakdown without doing something to stop it. Whether he knows it or not, after what they went through with him trying to push her away last week, she knows what's occurring within his mind right now.

He flinches at the feeling of her hand grabbing his shoulder to turn him to face her at first, and when she reaches again with her other hand to try to hold his hand as he cries, he shrugs off her touch.

"JJ..." she lets the solemn sound of her own voice murmuring his name trail off, "it's just me."

His head shakes at her consoling words. Everything else inside of his mind is so earth-shatteringly loud, he can't drown it out with logic or reason to bring himself away from the memories of his dad. Those intrusive thoughts keep attacking him with doubled, then tripled force the harder he tries to resist them, and he's so exhausted from it. All of it—the memories, his dad going to jail, and his inability to accept her love to its fullest extent without convincing himself she'll abandon him—is exhausting.

This time, when she rests her hand on his shoulder, he swats it away as the frustration of today crushing him with the force of an avalanche. Not to hurt or scare her, but to get her hands off of him before he bursts out of his skin with the sickness it stirs in his stomach. So detached from himself, he anticipates pain from every touch she gives him, and he knows it hurts her.

JJ hardly recognizes his own voice as he backs away from her a step and says, "Don't."

He can tell it hurts her based on how she looks at him immediately after, but he can't handle being touched right now. How did this happen so quickly? It was overwhelming when they first parked outside, but as soon as he stepped foot inside, it was as if a switch was flipped inside of him and all of the buried feelings he kept hidden over the past two weeks exploded into this.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"You need to leave. I just-I can't breathe and"—He still refuses to look up from the ground or see her face as he paces around the room with no real intent in mind—"You can't see me like this."

That is what breaks her out of her soft spoken, timid attitude to handle the situation the way it needs to be handled. Their natural dynamic worked best for him to take charge when she had her panic attack because JJ acts first and thinks later. He saw that she was in distress and jumped in to help her before things got worse rather than allowing her to keep him at an arms length where he couldn't do anything about it.

Taking a page from his rule book, she takes action.

The room surrounding them is in a state of disarray from him searching through it for the items of clothing and objects now stashed in his duffel bag. There are multiple obstacles in her way as she steps between them like navigating a minefield to reach him after he backed away in instinctual fear, but they don't stop her from reaching him. Nothing could.

Y/N walks right up to him and reaches to grasp his face between her hands, forcing him to stop pacing around and actually look at her for the first time since they arrived her so he hears what she says. To say the least, the way he looks right now is enough to make her cry. There are tears welled up to the brims of his blue eyes, his lips are downturned with his sobs, and he's staring at her like she's about to strike him.

She says it as slowly and clearly as she needs to get it through his head, "He's not here," and before he manages to squeeze out another word of doubt between his rapid inhalations, she cuts in, "Take deep breaths."

He isn't listening to her.

The movement of his chest that hits hers from how close they stand to each other has yet to settle into the familiar pace she remembers from nights of falling asleep with the rhythm of his breaths beneath her head.

Her eyes search his face frantically, from left to right and top to bottom, for any sign of the person she's known for years, but she doesn't see him. Instead, she sees the same panicked child her and John B saw the first time they visited this house. It's uncanny how similar the expression in his face is. It feels to her as if she's been hurled back in time to the moment itself, and when she tries to think about what would've worked with him back then, she doesn't know what else to do except help him escape.

So, with the helplessness of having to watch him turn into a sobbing, incoherent mess, she decides to step into the darkness with him and do what seven year old Y/N would've done. Just like their games of make believe, of pirates and princesses, she assumes the role John B would have and rescues him from what holds him captive. It’s his own mind in this case, but, in the physical sense, it's the house.

She drops her hands from his face and takes his hand in hers to drag him out of the room. The packed bag sits on the floor in their wake as she pulls him back through the bedroom door and into the living room, not caring about what they came here to do.

It doesn't matter anymore.

The various rooms of his dad's house pass by them in a blur as she leads him down the hallway to the front door with one sole objective in mind: get him out of here. If he wants his stuff to bring back to the Chateau, she'll go back inside and get whatever he needs her to, but she isn't letting him inside of this house again. Not under her watch.

Thankfully, since he is undeniably stronger than her and she wouldn't have stood a chance, he doesn't fight it. He stumbles after her guiding hand the same way he always has, just like how he followed her back to the Chateau after she and John B saw him that day when they were kids. She led the way as he sat on the handlebars of her brother's bike, and he watched her hair flutter in the wind with the momentum of their bicycle spokes until the tears dried up.

He watches her drag him out of the home until they've reached the safety of the yard at the bottom of the porch steps, and as soon as the soles of her shoes meet the dirt, she feels his hand slipping out of hers.

"JJ?"

She turns around to see him clutching his chest, rubbing his hand along the front of his shirt over his heart as though it'll loosen up the tightened muscles preventing him from catching his breath. His body weight is leaned onto the railing of the porch steps for support. He's partially slumped on it, looking at her desperately, like she somehow knows the answer to every question screamed inside of his head, and she has never felt as useless.

"You're gonna leave," JJ says through the gasps and cries that leave his cheeks stained with tears.

When she reaches out again to help him remain upright without leaning over the railing, he doesn't shove her hands away as he did inside of his bedroom. It's a small battle won, but she takes it as a win nonetheless.

"What are you saying? I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere—"

"You're gonna leave! Everybody does! My mom, John B, my dad, and you"—his head falls to look at the ground instead of her, and she watches him work through it in his head—"I mean, look at me. You don't want this."

"Don't tell me what I want," she says.

Her voice remains as steady and calm as she can force it to be amidst the turbulent situation, but the way he said it...It takes her right back to sitting in the back of the Twinkie with him at the Cherry Bowl, except it's ten times worse. That felt like a break up, but based on what he's saying, this is one. She hasn't prepared herself for the heartache she feels in response to it.

"You don't want me, you just think you do 'cause I was there after John B died, but you don't. You're gonna go off, find some perfect guy that isn't as fucked up as me, and have a great life somewhere else, but it ain't here," JJ says, his breathing evening out with the distraction of the argument to keep him tethered tor reality, "And it won't be with me."

He can see it every time he's looked at her and debated saying those three titular words that have been floating around in his head since he first met her.

How could she want someone who can't walk into his childhood bedroom without breaking down, or someone who still has years-old scars from cigarette burns on his skin when she touches him? Her bright future contrasted with his pre-designated fate on the Cut, her personality better matched with someone more similar to her, her life continuing on whether he's there or not—it's his worst nightmare, but he's prepared to see it through.

What he doesn't expect is for her to hold her ground.

"You honestly think I'm buying into that bullshit?" she asks.

"What?"

She doesn't put it softly, she states facts with as much harshness as his cruel fantasy had, "You're trying to push me away and I won't let you."

Her typically sweet, soft features have hardened into a bitter expression he's sure he mirrors. The arms holding his waist to keep him upright move to climb up his chest and cup his face between her hands with all of the gentleness her face and voice don't have right now.

She sees right through him.

When he tries to look away again, to avert his eyes to make what he's trying to do easier on himself by not having to look at her when he does it, her grasp on his face holds firm. Her hands guide his chin back up so they're face to face, and he realizes what a mistake everyone makes in assuming her this dainty, broken girl whose only source of strength came from the brother she lost. She's a forest fire.

"You're not hearing what I'm saying—"

Y/N interjects, "I am hearing what you're saying, I'm just saying it's bullshit."

She refuses to let him off the hook, and though it frustrates him on the surface, deep down, it makes him fall in love with her all over again. Her insistence against his speech about her leaving him proves him wrong more than anything else could, 'cause he gave her the perfect chance to dip and she shot it down instantly.

The house looms behind them as a menacing presence that threatens to take control of him again, but she doesn't let it. She keeps his eyes on her no matter how many times he tries to look away and doesn't let anything get in the way of what she says next.

"You think that if you push me away and get me to leave you right now, it'll hurt less than it would if I did it later, and I don't accept that. I won't take the bait and let you torture yourself anymore, okay? I can't speak for anyone else, but I know I'll never leave you. Not willingly, anyway."

She looks into his eyes, and this time its softer, more loving, and he's never felt as understood as he does when she continues to speak.

"I'm in love with you. Whether it scares you or not, it's the truth, and I'll never stop saying it. If you think that your issues with your dad are gonna change that for me, you've officially lost your mind." Their noses brush as she leans in to ghost a kiss over his mouth and pulls away a second later to whisper, her forehead pressed to his, "I love you, JJ. Stop being so stubborn and just let me."

His next breath in trembles as he lets her words sink in, and he's stuck at a crossroads inside of himself without a clue of what to do.

The breeze blows her hair away from her face, the afternoon sunshine painting her golden, and when he sees her hair flutter in the air like it did so many years ago, he can't help but feel as calm as he did during their bike ride home. The further away he got from his dad and the house where it all happened, the calmer he grew, and it hits him at this moment that he's so taken aback by her confession to him, he forgot why he was so upset.

It's sobering. The intoxication of his panic hurtled him back in time to the frightened, childlike state of mind his dad's violent abuse often sent him to, but it was hearing her say those words he's feared for weeks that brought him back. Like the jolt of a defibrillator, he's roused back to life with more clarity than before.

She loves him, but, perhaps more importantly, she said she'd never leave him, and that is what he needed to hear more than anything. That is the statement worth more to him than the four letter word he has agonized over endlessly. No one else every attached the promise of "I love you" with the stipulation of it lasting forever. They said the empty words and contradicted it with their actions, but she hasn't done that. Her actions spoke the words long before her mouth did.

He sighs.

It's a deep, yearning sigh that sends him melting into her with the acceptance of what he's denied for too long. He savors the hands cradling his head, as well as the body pressed up against his that he has memorized down to every beauty mark and imperfection, and makes the right choice.

It isn't like it was the night at the Cherry Bowl, or the night he spoke to Pope about it. It still takes more bravery than he possesses to form the words, but there isn't a physical incapability stopping him anymore. It's just him against the trauma beckoning him into its trap again, and he won't let it lure him back into that house.

"Alright," JJ says to her through a sniffle in acceptance to her command, as if he were agreeing on afternoon surfing plans rather than something as monumental as allowing someone to love him, then continues onto with a timid tone, "I love you too."

Before he can watch for her reaction, she's surging forward through the few inches of space left between them to connect their lips in a kiss.

It's vastly different to the kiss they shared in the hallway at school last Friday. In contrast to that one, the reigning emotion within him that drives the kiss after the hesitant beginning doesn't lead them into increased intensity, it gets gentler. It doesn't explode into chaos and passion, it's a tired kiss that he never wants to retreat from. It's the physical manifestation of his feelings for her underneath the guarded exterior he uses to protect himself: gentle and yielding, yet undeniably powerful.

He feels her smiling through her tears against his mouth. In the face of everything that happened this afternoon, he doesn't feel like he should be smiling back at her, but he does. He smiles while kissing her with tears streaming down his face, still reeling from his traumatic response to coming home for the final time, and wonders how a person can feel such contradicting emotions all at once.

Y/N is the one who starts to pull away first, though it's only to check in on him. If she had it her way, she could stay here with him until the sun sets, but he did just come back from the brink of a full-blown panic attack, so she can't in good conscience ignore his well-being for the momentary bliss of their love confessions.

Her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her smile drooping with worry as she asks, "Wanna spend the rest of the day on the boat? You always say being on the water makes you feel better. Maybe it'll make it easier to talk about it."

His Adam's apple bobs with how he swallows the lump in his throat.

"Can we maybe take baby steps for now? I don't think I can handle telling you all that shit yet."

It was already enough to allow her to follow him into the house, watch him break down into a fit of panic no one else has seen him in, and tell her he loved her, but it'd cross the line into uncharted territory to talk about everything between him and his dad so openly. Between the minor annoyance of dealing with Kacey to this hellish visit home, he thinks he's reached his quota on feeling uncomfortable today.

She nods in agreement.

"Baby steps."

Drawn back to each other by a force stronger than gravity, they collide again, but it isn't a kiss this time. It's a hug charged with all of the previously unspoken emotions they've buried inside of themselves for years, the same hug she gave him the last time she came to this house with the fear of his potential death lingering in her thoughts.

She throws herself at him with the same desperation she did that day and relishes the feeling of his muscular arms returning the embrace until their bodies are tangled together. She'd usually never refer to something as inherently affectionate as an embrace as violent, but it's the closest she can come to capturing how it feels as their bodies meet. It makes her lose her footing on the bottom step they stand on together, teetering on the edge she'd surely slip off of with the force if not for him keeping her steady.

He's about to say something, a thank you to her for calling him out on his bullshit and not letting him go that easily, when the grating sound of her ringtone blares from the back pocket of her denim shorts.

The contact popping up on the screen along with a series of frantic messages when she pulls away from him to answer shows Pope's name.

Pope You and JJ need to get back to the Chateau ASAP!!

The van doors slam shut behind Y/N and JJ as soon as it rolls to a stop in front of the Chateau.

Under the assumption that something dire happened, as in injury or death or catastrophic damage to the house itself, they bolted off of that porch faster than they knew they could move. She only turned back when she remembered the packed back of JJ's things they abandoned on his bedroom floor and, not wanting him to reenter the house, she brought it back to the Twinkie in record time.

They're preparing to trample up the porch into the house like a stampede of animals when they hear Kie calling them over to the backyard and change direction.

"No one's hurt!" she shouts, knowing that was likely where their minds went after everything they went through during the summer, "You have to see this though, I don't know who did it!"

Sticks and fallen leaves crunch beneath her feet on her way around the side of the house. Her mind races with the possibility of what could've happened that didn't hurt their friends but necessitated a series of texts and calls as frantic as the ones she received at JJ's house. She drove over here in defiance of the speed limit, something she rarely does, and prayed nothing terrible was happening.

It gave her flashbacks to when she found out John B and Sarah died in the storm. The pedal beneath her foot brought the van to an uncomfortably swift speed, then she remembered the sound of Shoupe's voice when he gave them the news. JJ warned her to slow down, then she remembered how it took multiple people to help her restrain him from attacking the new sheriff for letting his men drive their friends into their deaths.

At first, she doesn't realize what's wrong.

Kiara and Pope are standing and waiting for them across the grass near the large tree that sits as a centerpiece to their yard. Based on the body language screaming their frustration and the tears in their eyes, she can tell something bad did happen, but it's not clear what it is until she looks past them to the tree. More specifically, until she looks at what's on the tree.

"Oh my god," she whispers to herself.

Her hand is already up to cover her mouth and conceal the instantaneous frown besmirching her previously relaxed face. They both are stopped in their tracks halfway to where their friends are standing, and she can’t hear JJ's reaction over the rising volume of her hysterical thoughts.

Spray painted in red on top of their memorial for John B are the words "COP KILLER" in bold letters that conceal what they burned into the tree trunk for his gravestone. It sticks out from the beauty of the greens, browns, blues, and swathes of other earthy tones composing the scenery around the Chateau like a thorn amongst flowers, so much so that she wonders how she didn't instantly see it when they rounded the corner to come back here.

Yet that isn't the only thing amiss in the peaceful sanctuary they call home, there are random things strewn around the ground around the tree. An old t-shirt spray painted with the word "murderer" on the front, four ripped up envelopes, and a gorgeous mahogany jewelry box...broken on the grass.

The freshly turned dirt they had the contents of the box buried beneath is scattered around the trashed area as well. It clicks with her a few seconds late that whoever came here to do this must have seen the pinwheel she put in the ground to mark the "grave" and dug it up to add insult to injury.

She moves forward without consciously realizing it and stumbles until she reaches the first object of the debris field. Before this, she was doing a masterful job of holding in her cries, but as soon as she crouches down to pick up the pieces of the jewelry box, the lid snapped clean off the hinges to separate it from the bottom section, it comes rushing out of her against her will. The first unrestrained keen is the first thing to snap JJ out of his shell shocked trance.

He walks after her as fast as his legs will take him without breaking into a run, but she isn't letting him get close before she puts the box back down and shuffles forward to collect the torn letter remains. She doesn't want them to get blown away by the wind anymore than they already might have been, so she scrambles to gather the pieces until they're cupped in her hands to protect them.

"Why?" she asks and looks up at Kie and Pope with tears dripping down her face, "Why would anyone do this? Who would do this?"

Pope says, "My guess is as good as yours. We didn't see anyone leaving when we got here, so it must've happened before school ended. This is all we saw before we called you guys."

For a second or two, JJ is grasping at straws for why this happened and who did it like the rest of them are, but then something Pope said makes it click into place. It sets off a domino effect in his mind as he brings back the memory of a certain offspring of satan being absent from gym this afternoon despite being at school earlier, since his encounter with her before Physics made him, unfortunately, aware of her existence again.

His face is set in anger, jaw clenching with the tension of him grinding his teeth together, and he takes his hat off to fidget with it between his hands for a second. Their friends are too focused on her crying to see him contemplating it, but as soon as he speaks, they look up to see him setting his hat back onto his head in preparation to leave and track Kacey down.

Y/N's head snaps up from the torn letters in her hands to the sight of him storming off across the yard with his only goodbye being the words, "I'm gonna kill that bitch."

Her and Pope stare after him in shock, unable to put the pieces together about who that "bitch" is, but Kie doesn't miss a single beat. While Y/N is crumpled over on the ground in tears, she's rushing after JJ before he can approach the bike parked in front of the house. He doesn't even make it five steps before he feels her hands latching onto his wrist to stop him.

She asks, "Who the hell are you talking about? And why would they do this?"

His eyes narrow at her. His unreleased frustration for the situation in general and having to watch Y/N cry after an emotional afternoon together comes rushing out when he snaps at her.

"Kacey. She talked shit at school and I put her in her place. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna pay her a little visit."

He yanks his arm sharply towards himself to free it from her grip, but she's a step ahead of him. Quicker than he can think to stop her, Kie swipes the keys hanging out of his back pocket away and throws them to Pope, who, bless his heart, can't catch to save his life. The key ring jingles with its contact at the dead center of his chest, and she mouths an apology to him before turning back to face JJ.

"What the fuck, Kie?"

He makes to stomp past her and retrieve the keys from Pope only to be stopped by her hands reaching out to grab his shoulders.

"Listen to me, you can't go anywhere. Look at her," she whispers lowly enough to keep Y/N from hearing, pointing behind her to where she sits on the ground with Pope knelt beside her, "I wouldn't put it past Kacey to pull a stunt like this. I'm just as mad as you, but revenge can wait and you know it. She needs you."

The fury visible in his expression is subdued by looking past Kie's shoulder to see Y/N crying softly to Pope about the vandalized memorial.

The last time he saw her so distraught over something, it was the day they made the memorial and buried the box in the first place. She sits on her knees with her mom's broken jewelry box between them, shuddering with the sobs she has no control over, and pours the torn paper into the empty bottom half of the box. Exhausted to the core, she looks more like a sullen, kicked puppy than she does herself.

It makes his anger-fueled instincts that urge him to hunt Kacey down and do something, anything he can to make her feel the pain they do right now bubble down into sorrow. It's visible in his eyes when he looks at her.

Kie knows she's gotten under his skin when he sighs, sparing a parting glance to the bike in the driveway, and nods once at her before setting off back to where they're sitting in the grass.

Meanwhile, Y/N is stuck staring down at the disarray of her backyard with nothing but pain aching through her to the bone.

Her brother did wrong things sometimes as a consequence of being human, but never this, never something worthy of having his name dragged through the mud and being branded a murderer after his death. He stole scuba gear from Ward and broke dozens of laws in their hunt for the gold, but he never crossed that line into moral bankruptcy. Rafe did, and it kills JJ to see someone like Kacey do this to his best friend while hanging off of Rafe and his friends like a leech.

The fabric of his worn t-shirt is tarnished by the dried paint clinging to the front of it to the spell the lie written there, and her vision blurs with tears for what feels like the millionth time in the span of an hour. First, it was JJ. Now, it's John B, and she can't help but wonder if the heartache will ever end. It began to feel better over the course of the week, her grief for him slowly beginning to slip from her mind until now. Until the storm clouds converged again to batter her with another wave of it.

Through the deafening volume of her mind racing with thoughts and feelings to process what's happened, she hears Pope shuffling around to stand on his feet. Then, another person sits down in his place and scoots closer until their bodies are touching, and she knows it's him. She doesn't have to wait to hear his voice or look to see his face, she can tell based on the feeling of his touch and the smell of him she's so intimately familiar with, yet couldn't describe it aloud if she tried.

He doesn't smother her. He sits close enough to touch her and doesn't push it any further.

The background of the pale, cloudless sky frames him in the foreground like the subject of a painting—a living, breathing painting that she could study endlessly. The other trees planted in the yard's leaves flutter distantly behind him and try to draw her gaze away, but she keeps her eyes on him.

Maybe that's how it is, she thinks.

Maybe it'll get better and worse in a dance that'll only stop when they're no longer here to agonize over it. Maybe this is what moving on from John B will always be like. It'll feel like they've made strides in the right direction, then something will come along to shatter it to sharp pieces that'll reopen their stitched up wounds. If that's the case, at least the four of them have each other to lean on when it gets worse again.

JJ sits with her and lets her crawl onto his lap, resting her head on his shoulder, until the sun sinks below the horizon.

The gentle bobbing of the HMS Pogue at the surface of the water steadies her amidst her eddying thoughts. It keeps her present to the moment the way the ropes tying the boat to the dock keeps it from floating adrift into the marsh. It's a motion engrained in her from the start of her life until now from countless days spent on the water. Whether it be for fishing, swimming, or playing make believe with her boys all those years ago, it's as much a part of her as her personality or body itself.

JJ was right about one thing: being out on the water makes it easier to think.

He hasn't followed her out since she woke up before sunrise and snuck out of bed to come here. Despite her efforts not to wake him, he woke up when she disentangled her body from his, silently cursing the fact that they always cuddle so closely, and he tried to pull her back to him with a whine of displeasure in his groggy, half-asleep state. Sleep finally found them after hours of staying up together to talk about what Kacey did, unable to relax from the chaos of yesterday, so he wasn't prepared to wake up that soon.

"Go back to sleep, angel," she whispered as she hovered over him, brushing a chaste kiss to his lips that he was too tired to return.

That was the last time she saw him since this morning, and now that the sun has risen to its peak in the sky without her moving an inch from her perch atop the bow of the boat, she's begun to wonder if he's awake yet. It isn't uncommon for them to sleep in for half of the day when there isn't school or work, so it isn't surprising to her that he's just now waking up when she hears the back door to the Chateau opening and closing.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ has been awake the entire morning since she left bed.

They were so attached to each other yesterday night, he didn't have the time to put it together without her seeing and ruining the surprise, but once he heard the door to the porch close to signify her leaving, he kicked the blankets off of himself and got to work. He wasn't originally planning on starting so early, since they stayed up late into the night together, but once he woke up to the feeling of her sneaking out of his arms, he was too awake to fall back asleep.

The sound of his footsteps on the dock warns her of his approach, but she doesn't raise her head from where she rests it in her palms to stare out at the water.

"I was wondering when you'd finally wake up," she says.

There's another few steps, then the boat jostles with his weight stepping onto it.

He doesn't say anything to her in response. The only clue she gets as to what he's doing are the footsteps on the deck that lead closer to her until she feels him sitting down on the bow next to where she is. And she's about to open her mouth to ask if he's okay when he sets something down in front of her.

It's a shoe box.

Y/N turns to see him, eyes flickering over his tired face, and looks back at the box with furrowed brows.

"What is this?"

His hair is messy, exactly how it was when she left him in bed this morning, and if she weren't more focused on the mysterious box he plopped down in front of her, she'd be combing through it with her fingers. He's gotten used to those casual displays of affection from her; how she runs her hands through his hair on mornings before school when he forgets to brush it, or when she fixes a button on his flannel that he missed.

JJ's lips are tipped in a smile, and she can't help but blush with how he looks at her. She never used to see it, but he has always looked at her like this. Like he's hopelessly, utterly in love with her. Even before they lost John B, back when he'd expend all of his romantic and sexual attention on girls he hardly knew, he still looked at her this way.

He gestures at it and says, "Open it."

The lid of the box is coated in a freshly dried layer of blue paint to match the shade of the sky overhead. She knows instantly that he must have dug through the arts and crafts box she specifically labeled with a warning for him and John B to stay out. It's painted with aimlessly sloppy brushstrokes and stickers placed at every corner of the cardboard box, all of which she recognizes from the stash she kept under her bed alongside the India ink he borrowed last Friday.

As she gives him a skeptical look and reaches to lift the lid off of the shoe box, she makes a mental note to rewrite the label on the arts and crafts box without the warning for him to keep out. Since John B isn't here to steal anything from it and JJ never follows that rule anyway, it's redundant at this point.

Any skepticism is washed away from her face as soon as she flips the lid open to reveal what's inside. It leaves her speechless as she looks down at it all.

"JJ..." she murmurs in awe.

Sitting at the bottom of it is a folded up t-shirt she saw JJ wear multiple times, but never again since John B died. He refused to glance at the shirt his best friend gave him the year before they never saw him again, let alone dig it out of the corner of her closet where he keeps his things...until now.

But that's a scratch on the surface of all of the things about his gift that stuns her to silence. The next thing to catch her immediate attention is a picture she hasn't seen in years.

It's one that Big John took of the three of them together right where she and JJ are sitting. She was much younger in it, flashing a toothy grin with her arms thrown over both boys' shoulders. To her left, John B was leaning his head on her shoulder. To her right, JJ was wearing an eyepatch they crafted out of an old black shirt he stole from his dad. It was cut with the kitchen scissors and tied around the back of his head in a knot.

She brushes her thumb over John B's face, then sets the crinkled photograph back down atop the folded shirt and moves her attention to the last surprise.

Letters.

Torn up pieces of paper painstakingly taped back together sit one on top of the other, some missing pieces here or there, and it makes her mouth part in shock. Her hands shuffle the letters apart to see each one and recognize the handwriting: Kie's bubbly, swirling letters, Pope's neat cursive, hers, and JJ's chicken scratch writing that she's able to decipher from years of proofreading his essays.

She pictures him at her desk all morning while she was sitting out here, ripping tape off of the roll and arranging the puzzle pieces of the ripped letters until he was sure he got it right. It made him want to rip the hair from his scalp, but he sat there and pushed through the frustration to make it as perfect as he could for her. The missing pieces were primarily from Kie's letter, which fluttered away on a balmy breeze when Kacey tore it up and threw it to the ground, but the one he wanted her to have the most wasn't missing more than a single piece.

Y/N looks up from the letters held like a precious treasure in her hands to see him watching her with that same classic JJ smile on his face, but he doesn't let her get a word in yet.

"Go on," he says, leaning closer to pull his letter to John B out and place it on top of the pile for her to read, "I want you to read it."

"You didn't let me read it when I asked before though, are you sure you—"

He interrupts her before she can worry herself over it, "Dude, just read it. I promise I'm fine with it. I want you to."

The letters crinkle under her touch as she looks back down and smooths them out on the deck enough to read through the clear tape. With one last confirming glance to him for permission, she takes a deep breath and reads the first line.

Dear John B,

You really know how to keep a guy on his toes, don't you? You really outdid yourself on this one. I was so sure we were gonna make it, but I guess you had to go all Romeo and Juliet on us, huh? As long as you and Sarah are happy macking on each other in heaven, it's okay.

In all seriousness, I fucking miss you, bro. I miss you more than I realized a person could miss another person. Whenever I need to talk to you again, I don't know what to do. I guess that's why it's good that Y/N made me write this.

Also, I'm really sorry for—

"What does it say there? There's a whole chunk missing," she murmurs.

He scoots close enough to her that she can feel his body warmth radiating onto her through the shoulder of his flannel. Sunlight reflects on the silver rings decorating his fingers as he holds one side of the paper to tilt it enough for him to squint at.

"Macking, I think. It's supposed to say "I'm sorry for macking on your sister."

—macking on your sister. You can totally kick my ass for it, but before you come back from the grave to murder me, let me defend myself, okay? She isn't just another girl for me, John B.

I think you knew it before I did.

Last summer, you asked me straight up if we were hooking up behind your back after I kissed her in front of you on the porch. I laughed in your face, but you were right.

You saw everything before me, man. You knew I loved her since we were kids and waited for us to come to you about it, so that's gotta mean something, right? I hope it means you wouldn't be mad at me for this.

I swear I won't fuck it up with her, but you already know that. That's why you asked me to take care of her,. I didn't know why at the time but I do now. I won't let you down.

I'm keeping my promise.

- JJ

P.S. Don't miss me too much. We'll be shotgunning beers together up there before you know it.

There are tears blooming in her eyes when she lifts her gaze from the tattered paper to look at him again, but they aren't sad. For once, the tears slipping down her cheeks are happy tears, not born from grief, sadness, and pain, but bittersweet happiness.

They're caught staring at each other for a second before he asks her shyly, "It isn't too sappy or anything, is it? 'Cause I thought it—"

"C'mere," is the only thing she can get out before she's tugging him forward by the front of his shirt to kiss him.

JJ stumbles a little with the unexpected force of her pulling him to her, but he takes it in stride. He steadies himself and lets his hands shoot out to grapple for purchase on her waist, keeping her pressed up against him tightly as he kisses her back.

And it doesn't get much better than this, does it? This is it for him. He meant what he wrote to John B, he won't fuck it up with her, especially not because of his trauma with his dad getting inside his head and sabotaging his relationship with her. This is what makes everything worth it.

It brings happy tears to his eyes too.

She can taste the salt of them where their lips meet in the middle. It makes her smile, wrapping her arms around his neck and clenching the letters he mended for her in her fist to keep them from blowing away in the wind, and they both start to laugh into each other's mouths at the poignant feeling they both share but can't quite place.

They pull away from each other to catch their breath after another moment of it, and she can't help but stare. How could she not when she feels like this? It’s less like he’s her boyfriend and more like a piece of her soul has attached itself to his with no hope of letting go in the near future.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," she whispers to him.

Plain and simple. No room for disagreement or a bashful rejection of the compliment. She's pulled back from him enough to hold his gaze and make sure he sees her seriousness, and there isn't anything he can do to refute her statement.

He brushes his nose against hers affectionately, dipping down to kiss her again, but when he leans back to see her face, he can't help himself.

"Ditto."

The rest of the day after their moment on the boat, locked away in their own little world where none of the monsters chasing them could sneak through and ruin it, melts away peacefully. After another half hour spent looking through the box together, of her thanking him over and over again, he hops off of the HMS Pogue onto the dock and extends his hand to her in the most gentlemanly manner possible.

His lips are curved into a smirk as he kneels down on one knee as though she's a revered royal and bows his head in subservience, "Princess Routledge."

Her hand fits in his warm, calloused palm as a perfect match, and she steps off of the boat onto the dock beside him with an expression to match his.

"Captain Maybank," she says in her most regal royalty voice.

Her stellar performance breaks into a laugh they share as he stands and throws his arm around over her shoulder to walk back to the yard. The cardboard box is tucked beneath one of her arms while the other slips around his side to hold him back, and her heart feels full with both the presence of JJ and John B alongside her.

They bury it together.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, and @krisphann

Also, now that it’s over, let me know what your favorite part was in the comments or tags if you’d like to :) I’m curious.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #i'm gonna miss these dorks #🥺#I love how he tries to break up with her and she’s like ‘no❤️’#also totally do not put on ‘seven’ by Taylor Swift during the childhood flashbacks unless u wanna cry #cause I did and my sensitive ass was crying #that song is about John B and JJ okay #it just is

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dangerous-mess · 3 years

Text

Holiday Troubles

Characters: Aizawa, trans male reader

Contains: Unsupportive family, transphobia, homophobia, misgendering, mentions of a deadname (D/N), mentions of religion and praying, mentions of dysphoria, angst, hurt/comfort, angst with fluff ending. This was written mainly as a comfort fic during the winter holidays but wanted to post this here (originally posted on AO3). Please read with caution as this content may be triggering for some

Word Count: 2K+

The holidays were always rough for you, being not only gay but transgender as well. There were the off-putting tension and feelings every time you walked in the room, and the side glances and judgemental glares that were shot your way if you were even caught wearing something feminine and not masculine. Mostly from your parents and family, feeling the obligation that you had to follow gender norms in the hope to not only pass but to be taken seriously in your own identity.

The holidays got a little easier once you married your now husband. He made visiting your family a bit easier and made the holidays in general, more enjoyable for you. This year, unfortunately, he had meetings and a nightly patrol that he couldn’t get out of, so you were left to go to the Christmas family gathering by yourself.

The day came, and needless to say, you were a nervous mess. You dressed up in a suit, something masculine of course to appease your family and keep those comments at bay. Though, you knew you weren’t in the clear as there was still a high chance of being deadnamed and misgendered by family who were unsupportive or others who just didn’t try. Your husband, Shouta, let you know before he left early that morning that if you needed anything at all to give him or Hizashi a call and they would come and get you in a heartbeat. He said Hizashi, just in case he couldn’t be reached, which was fine with you, Hizashi had become a close friend to you.

You arrived at your parent's house a little later than they asked, just cause you were nervous and needed more time to prepare for this evening. You knocked on the front door, adjusting your suit as you waited for someone to open the door, only to be greeted by one of your younger siblings. They gave you a big hug, before dragging you inside where you were greeted by family. Your grandmother was the first to deadname you. She called out as you talked to your uncle, a devious smile on her face as the name rolled off her tongue. You cringed hearing it and so badly wanted to correct her, but if your mother caught wind that you did, who knows what drama may pursue. You endured the conversation with her, as she made sure to drop in your deadname every chance she could get.

“Honestly D/N, you really should stop playing dress up and realize that you are a girl. Your husband would be so much happier to have a wife who knows her place and not some confused girl.”

You took a deep breath and bid your goodbyes to your grandmother as you went to find someone else to talk to. Eventually, dinner was called, and you all gathered around and your grandfather said a prayer. You looked down at your feet the entire time, not really wanting to participate in the prayer. Soon it wrapped up and a line formed into the kitchen to get food. After everyone got food, everyone gathered around and talked, telling stories of things that happened within the past year in their lives, as well as asking questions to others to get the latest scoop. You just decided to eat silently, trying to not participate in the gossip fest happening before you.

“So Y/N, how are you and your husband doing?” Your dad asked before he took a sip of a beer. You held up your pointer finger, signaling that you needed a moment as your finished chewing food before you smiled and spoke.

“Oh, we are doing well! He sends his deepest apologies that he couldn’t make it, hero duties called.” You smiled, taking a quick glance around the room. Some whispers were exchanged, knowing it was about you and Shouta. It was clear that besides your family not supporting your identity, they also did not support your marriage to a hero. Especially a hero who was supportive of you and your identity.

“Honestly, how she manages to keep such a hero man, is insane. Like who would wanna marry some confused lesbian?” One of your aunts spoke out. You gripped your glass tightly, biting your tongue, not wanting to start any issues.

Other family members chimed in to add on to your aunt's comment and soon it became too much. You quickly excused yourself and went to the bathroom farthest away from your family. You pulled out your phone and texted your husband. You told him that you needed him or Hizashi or someone to come to pick you up, as you originally walked, as it was nice earlier prior to the sun setting. You quickly got a reply, saying your husband was on his way, and that he was getting someone to cover the rest of his patrol. You felt a bit bad to interrupt and have him leave his patrol, but god you just needed him right now more than anything.

You hid amongst the rooms as you waited for Shouta to send you a message or signal that he was here. Your mom called out your name, walking down the hall looking for you. The smile on her face dropped as she saw you and grabbed your arm.

“Come on Y/N, we are about to exchange gifts. Stop trying to hide and be nice and spend time with your family. It took a lot of work and effort to get everyone here, like your grandparents who haven’t seen you in ages.” Your mom aggressively whispered at you, as she pulled you towards the living room. You stayed silently, hoping that your husband would be here soon.

Your mom let you go and pointed to a chair near the tree. You sat down and were handed some gifts. You slowly opened them, trying not to draw attention to yourself. The first gift was in a gift bag, and opening it exposed a colorful piece of clothing. You pulled it out and it was a sundress. Although you didn’t mind breaking gender norms, dresses were never your thing, they held too many bad memories and made you dysphoric. You frowned, not having the energy to fake a smile. You felt your mind start to spiral before a voice pulled you out.

“Oh, D/N do you not like it. I made sure to even get the right size and everything. I thought you could put that on and surprise your husband when you go home. Imagine how he would react to see his wife, finally coming to terms with herself.” Your grandmother called out, staring at you the entire time. You went to open your mouth when another voice spoke up.

“Actually, I think my husband looks handsome and perfect just the way he is in the suit he is wearing, but thank you. Maybe we can save the dress and give it to one of my students, I know one of them would get much better use of it.” Shouta’s voice boomed out, making a hush fall across the room. You never heard the front door open, but then again Shouta was very good at staying silent. You looked at your husband, feeling all your emotions and feelings starting to rise to the surface. You caught a dirty look your mother gave you as you stood up and made your way over to Shouta.

He held out his hand as you got closer and held it tightly, quickly bidding goodbye for you both as he quickly led you outside to the car that was waiting outside and still running. “I had Hizashi drive me over, hope that’s okay.” You just nodded at him, not letting go of his hand until you got into the car. As soon as you and Shouta were in the car, Hizashi sped off.

“Heya listener, how did it go?” Hizashi asked out, peeking into the mirror looking back at you.

“I lasted longer than last year, so that’s a new record at least.” You joked, trying not to cry. At least not now, you had to make it until you were home and in bed, with your husband holding you close.

Hizashi talked most of the ride home, while Shouta kept glancing back at you. You tried to listen to what was being said, but you couldn’t focus, so you just looked out the window, slightly dozing off. You woke up to the feeling of being carried, your eyes adjusted as you saw Shouta was carrying you into the house and to the bedroom. On any other occasion, if he was carrying you like this you were bound to tease or crack a joke or something, but in this moment you just stayed in his arms, gripping onto him tightly. Once you both got to the bedroom, he helped you undress and slip on something comfy. After he finished helping you, he quickly changed and climbed into bed, pulling you close to him and holding you tightly.

For a while, you just laid there in his arms, fighting back the urge to scream and cry. Though, after he comforted you and let you know it was okay to be upset and that you could let it all out. In which you did, you sobbed in his chest for what felt like hours. You screamed and sobbed and let out all the feelings you bottled up for the few hours you were at the family gathering. Eventually, you ran out of tears to cry and were only left with your own thoughts. You were overthinking, mostly dwelling on the words your family spoke out to you this evening, and couldn’t help but question if it was true.

“Sho...I’ve got to ask you something, kind of important.” You gently pushed away and sat up in the bed, looking at him. He stared at you, and nodded, letting you know it was okay to continue on. You took a deep breath and went for it, “Am I enough for you? I brought a lot of baggage and trouble into our relationship and I know it can’t be easy for you dating me, specifically with the backlash and comments that get made by my family and others about me transitioning and just. If you were with anyone else, I feel like you won’t get all this drama and I’m sorry I’ve brought so much of it onto you Shouta.”

You watched as his facial expression changed and you quickly looked away, finding interest in anything that wasn’t his face, afraid of what his reaction not only meant but the words that were about to follow. “Y/N, please look at me.” You slowly looked up and he placed a hand on your cheek. “I love you Y/N. I love you for you, you are my husband and I won’t want anyone else besides me. You are more than enough for me. And we both have a lot of baggage but that doesn’t change my feelings for you, we can work through it all together. I meant what I said in my vows and at our wedding and I still stand by it. Forever and always.”

You fiddled with your fingers before speaking up, “I love you Shouta so much, I’m just afraid one day I won’t be enough, cause as silly as it is, I don’t feel masculine or manly enough, that you’ll find more of a ‘real’ man one day and just leave me behind.” Tears filled your eyes and you looked down, just wanting to hide under the blankets.

“Y/N Aizawa, you are absolutely masculine and manly enough. I will never find anyone else or more a man than you. You are all I want, and all I need. I love you so much, don’t ever doubt my love for you, cause it is never-ending sweetheart.” Shouta spoke out, lifting your head up and placing a small kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his arms, holding you close. You just stayed there close, as Shouta whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you drifted off to sleep.

Shouta always made the holidays more bearable, but he also made life in general easier. He made waking up a little easier and helped with your hectic thoughts to calm you down. He truly was the love of your life and the best you could ever ask for. You couldn’t have gotten any luckier to have a husband as sweet and perfect as you. He may not be the number one hero to the rest of the world, but in your eyes and his heart, he was, he was your number one hero.

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Note

Here for the sentence starters!! "I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater" and "I’m so in love with her/him, I don’t know what do do." Feel free to do both or either or whatever you prefer with either of the Marcuses! I'm in such a fluffy mood rn and these will make my day :)) (PS I adore you and I hope you have a good day xx)

Making Moves (Marcus Moreno x f!Reader)

Summary: Your neighborhood superhero, Marcus Moreno, is being nagged by his daughter to find love. Lucky for him, just the right woman moves in down the street.

W/C: 2.7k

Warnings: language, brief talks of death (just to refer to Marcus’s wife who passed away), brief mentions of sexual stuff. it’s tame.

A/N: THIS WAS SO FUN. I love some good Marcus Moreno. He’s such a cutie and these prompts made it so fun! You can still send me prompts from this list with a character, just mind the taken ones! p.s. my emotional support Brit @maxlordsgf see how I used patio/backyard??

The Moreno household was cozy. You wondered if it was Marcus who’d decorated the beautiful home, or if his late wife. You supposed it didn’t matter. You would’ve liked the former Mrs. Moreno, if Marcus could love her like he did.

He lived a few houses down from you. You’d moved in a couple of months ago, into the nice Craftsman style home you currently rented. The best thing about the house was the beautiful front porch, which exposed the lovely suburban neighborhood. The porch had come with a swing, and you’d decided that it’d have to be your new morning coffee spot. After all, this is California, where the sun was plentiful and the air was just cold enough to be refreshing in the mornings.

The time that you drank your coffee on the porch also happened to be the time that your neighborhood Heroic, Marcus, went for his morning runs. He’d been excited to see that the house was sold, and Missy was too. They planned on bringing over some sweets once you were settled. Several weeks after the sold sign went up, he saw you for the first time.

You looked like an angel, he thought. You wore a fuzzy robe with patterned capri pajama pants peeking from beneath it. Your glasses rested on the bridge of your nose, slightly fogged from the steam of your coffee. You sat on your porch swing, knees pulled to your chest, reading from your tablet. He was immediately caught off-guard. Your new home was at the beginning of his running path, but his breath was already gone from his lungs from your beauty.

Pushing his own glasses up his nose, he gave you a little wave as you looked up. You’d smiled at him, a grin with your teeth visible. The man was handsome, you’d noticed. Dark hair, a little scruff, eyes that scrunched when he smiled at you. He was fit, too, his muscles evident beneath his tight t-shirt and running shorts. He kept running, unsure what he could say to you.

Marcus returned home some thirty minutes later to find Missy awake. “Hey, the new neighbor moved in,” he told her as he walked to the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Ooh, tell me all about them.”

“Well, we didn’t talk. I still don’t know if it’s a family or anything,” he admitted. “But there was a woman sitting on the porch.”

Missy’s eyes lit up. “How old?”

Marcus shook his head. “I don’t know, muñeca,” he told her and kissed her head as he walked past her to sit at the table.

“Old enough to date?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and stuffing her mouth full of cereal. “Did she seem single?”

“Stay out of it,” he teased her and poked her forehead, right between the eyes.

She flinched back a bit but laughed. “Dad, come on.”

He shook his head. “We can bring over a housewarming gift tonight, huh? Then we can see.” -

Well, it turned out that night was too busy to do so for the Morenos.

You saw him the next morning as he ran past again. You wore different pajamas but sat in the same position. You’d waved back.

That’s how the next couple mornings went for the two of you. Every day, Marcus could swear you looked prettier. With you looking like that in your pajamas, he couldn’t imagine how beautiful you’d be at any other time.

Finally, Friday night, he and Missy put on some music and got to baking.

“What does she look like?” Missy asked curiously as she cracked an egg into the bowl- she’d learned the hard way that her father was not to be trusted with egg duty.

Marcus described you to his daughter, his eyes far off and a small smile on his face. “She’s very pretty.”

“Well, duh. You’re simping over her, of course she is.”

“What’s a simp?” He’d asked, brow furrowing.

The knock came an hour or two later. You’d gotten home from work an hour or so earlier, so you were in relaxed clothing, the remnants of your makeup on your face.

Behind the door stood the handsome runner you saw every morning, and a miniature, carbon-copied version of him with longer hair and more feminine features. “Hi! We’re the Morenos. We live in the blue house down the street. I’m Missy, and this is my dad, Marcus,” she introduced herself cheerfully. She held a tray of brownies. He held a bouquet.

“We just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood,” the man- Marcus- says with a warm smile on his face.

“Oh, thank you!” You grinned and took the tray Missy held out. “Well, come in, please,” you invite them. “Do you drink, Marcus? I was just having some wine. Oh, and Missy, I have some soda if you’d like that.”

The three of you sat in your half-constructed living room for a while and chatted. You learned about the former Mrs. Moreno and how she’d passed a few years ago. You shared that you were living alone and single, due to a bad breakup that led you to move here. The two were good company, you learned quickly, bantering back and forth more like siblings than a father and daughter.

As they stood up to leave, you apologized for the mess. “Sorry. I’ve been trying to hook up my TV lately, and I haven’t done anything else yet. I want to get the TV up first, but I’m practically useless with electronic stuff,” you admitted with a chuckle.

“Oh, Dad is great with electronics,” Missy told you with a grin.

“Not great. Competent would be a better word,” he chuckled. “I could help you set it up, if you’d like that.”

“I would, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all. Here, we can exchange numbers, you can text me when you’d like me to come over,” he offered and pulled out his phone.

“Sure,” you said and told him your number, which he enters into his phone and sends you a text. “Perfect,” you nodded and saved his phone number. “I’ll see you two soon, hopefully.”

They said goodbye and you heard Missy giggling as the door shut behind him. It’s muffled, but you thought you can hear Missy anyway: “That was smooth, Dad!”

That was months ago now. You’d developed a relationship with the both of them, visiting each others’ houses often for dinner or just to chat.

When summer rolled around, Missy invited you over for days at their pool. You two had enjoyed yourselves, Marcus playing the role of your butler for the day, serving you mocktails and teasing his daughter. It became a common occurrence during the summer. You even had a reverse day on Marcus’s birthday (July 12th) where Missy served the two of you. It was almost like a date. That was the day you both realized you’d fallen hard for the other.

As much as you spent time with Marcus, the girl positively adored you, and always sent you texts from her father’s phone.

We’re having pizza tonight! Wanna come over?

Dad says he sucks at math. Can you help me with my homework?

My friends canceled on me. Are you free to eat Ben and Jerry’s and watch Mamma Mia with me?

You’d become like a mother figure to her, helping her when she got her first period, taking her shopping for middle-school dances, giving her boy advice.

Marcus liked you just as much, if not more. You liked him too. He was a funny man, kindhearted and warm. He’d listen to you talk when you’d had a shitty day, bring over a bottle of wine when he needed some comfort, cook dinner for the two of you when Missy was at Anita’s.

One night, you’re eating dinner with them on their patio. It’s nice, overlooking their backyard and their pool. Missy is going to a friend’s later, to sleep over, but Marcus had cooked food for the three of you on the grill, something you’d learned he was fantastic at, and you’re inside getting more food. The door is slightly cracked, and you can hear the two of them talking.

“Dad. You have to make your move, and you gotta do it tonight! Otherwise, she’ll go for Kent a couple doors down. You don’t want that, do you?” she asks in a hushed voice.

“It’s not that easy, muñeca. I’m so in love with her I don’t know what to do.”

Your heart catches in your chest, fluttering. Marcus likes you. Not only that, he’s in love with you. The past few months race through your head, and you hyper-analyze every little interaction the two of you have had. It’s clear now, in hindsight. You swallow hard, putting back down the skewer of vegetables.

He’s been the only thing on your mind the past few weeks, you have to admit. Your visits to each others’ homes had increased, with you spending more and more nights a week at the Morenos’. His laugh makes your stomach flutter as Missy says something else to him outside. You bite your lip. Tonight’s the night. If he doesn’t make his move like Missy insisted, you’ll do it first.

The conversation is light for the rest of dinner, and you’re a bit detached. Marcus can tell, but he doesn’t comment on it. You simply stare out into their pool, listening to Missy ramble on about the plans that she and her friends have for tonight.

A while later, her friends’ parents pick her up. You stand in the driveway and wave a thank-you to the girl’s parents as they drive off with Missy and her friend in tow. “Love you guys,” she shouts out of the window. You grin and shout it back, in sync with Marcus.

The two of you return to the backyard. You walk a little farther apart from Marcus than normal. “Hey,” he says and stands right next to you, his shoulder nudging yours. “What’s wrong? You’ve been off all night,” he mumbles softly.

You shake your head. “It’s nothing, really,” you chuckle, looking down at your feet.

Marcus is oblivious to the fact that you heard the two of them earlier. You and Marcus have always had a playful relationship, and the idea strikes him to help cheer you up. “Hey, vecina.”

“What- ah!” You squeal as Marcus lifts you in his strong arms. He walks the two of you to the side of the pool as you wriggle in his grip, laughing. “Goddamnit, Marcus! Let go of me!” You screech as he holds you over the pool, though you’re giggling the whole time.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” he laughs, your feet kicking as they dangle over the chlorinated water.

“No, you asshole!” You laugh, wriggling. “Put me down, Moreno, or God help your poor soul when I-”

He sets you down on the edge, backing up a bit. “There, fine. Just trying to help,” he teases. He did, he thinks to himself. You’re smiling again.

You’re painfully close to him. Your hands find his hips and he looks down at your hands in confusion as you pat the pockets of his shorts. No phone. Perfect. There’s a devilish grin as you wrap him in a bear hug and fall backwards into the pool, taking him with you.

You let go once you’re underwater, shooting up to the surface from under him and laughing. He comes up moments later, wiping his eyes and pushing his hair back. Your laugh is maniacal and loud, completely content and proud of yourself. “There, I cheered you up at least,” he shakes his head and smiles. He walks to the shallower end of the pool, and you follow.

“I wasn’t in a bad mood,” you shoot back.

“Well, something was off. Will you tell me now?” He asks, your eyes wandering to his- oh, he’s ripped, goddamn- abs beneath his wet t-shirt. His eyes remained trained on yours, ever the gentleman.

Swallowing hard, you nod and walk closer to him with a smile. “I heard you and Missy when I was inside getting more food,” you tell him, biting on your lip to hold back an excited giggle.

His brows furrow in confusion then lift in surprise as it hits him. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” you nod, wading a little closer and then even closer. You can hear his heavy breathing and look into those big brown eyes with a grin.

“Well, I-” he starts stammering, unsure of what to say, until you place your hands on his shoulders.

“It’s okay, Marcus,” you mumble soothingly, your arms wrapping around his neck. “I know you said it’s not that easy. Why don’t you let me take the reins then, hm?” You ask teasingly, bringing your face close to his.

He grins, taking the opportunity as he sees it. His lips crash to yours happily, his hands finding your waist over your sopping wet clothing. You smile softly against his lips. They’re so soft and warm, the very lips you’ve been staring at for a long time, imagining this. He’s gentle but loving and you deepen it. He follows immediately, parting his lips against yours and he sighs into your mouth.

The two of you stand there, in his pool, making out, for quite a while. Finally, when he breaks away, looking at you through his water-drop-stained glasses, you grin. “This is your fault, you know. I’m gonna have to go home and change into dry clothing.”

“Or you could borrow some of mine,” he offers with a shy smile, and you grin.

“That works too.”

He kisses you one more time. “Will you stay the night? We don’t even have to… to do anything. I don’t even really want to yet. I just want to keep holding on to you.”

You nod and kiss him softly, for just a moment. “Of course I will.” -

You awaken in the morning to the smell of cooking. You live alone, and it makes your brow furrow in confusion, eyes still shut, until they open and you find yourself in Marcus’ home. His bed, specifically.

You smell like chlorine and your hair is damp still, but you’re wearing a big black sweater that smells like detergent and cologne and sleep. It’s Marcus’s, you realize with a smile.

Last night was truly perfect. No, you didn’t sleep with him yet, but it was still perfectly intimate, the way you held each other and whispered sweet words and pressed soft kisses all over each others’ faces and torsos. You’d made out for a fair amount of time too, just like teenagers again, but it was meaningful.

You pad down the stairs, wearing just your underwear and one of Marcus’s big sweaters. He’s cooking breakfast in the kitchen, and your heart melts as you see him. “Good morning, superhero,” you coo as you wrap your arms around him from behind and press a kiss into his neck.

His body warms and melts into your touch. “Good morning, beautiful. How did you sleep?”

“Amazing. Your bed is insanely comfortable,” you chuckle and snuggle in against him, resting your head against his back.

“I’m glad. Go sit down, breakfast will be ready in a bit.”

You nod and do exactly that, sitting across the kitchen island from him. He puts some pancakes on a plate, drizzles them with syrup, and slides it to you. “Bon appetit.”

“Thank you,” you grin and waste no time in cutting into them with a fork and taking a bite.

You sigh happily and Marcus’s heart can barely take the sight of it. “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

“I can’t get over how cute you are,” you tease and pop another bite in your mouth. “The good news is that you can get over it, because I’m coming over here for breakfast in your clothes every day now.”

“Or you could live here.”

The proposal is so quiet, so sudden and nonchalant that it takes you aback for a minute. “What?”

He shrugs. “I know we’ve only been together for, what, 10 hours now, but Missy and I both adore you. You’re over here all the time anyway. Why don’t you? Save us both some money, too.”

You bite your lip to hold back a grin. “I might have to think about it.”

He nods. “I get that, I-“

“Done thinking. I’ll do it,” you grin happily.

“Really?”

“Really,” you nod, giggling excitedly.

Marcus leans across the kitchen counter and kisses you softly. “Be prepared for a lot of Moreno loving. Missy’s a cuddler.”

“I think I can take it,” you smile and press another kiss to his lips, with all of the love in your heart.

translations:

vecina- neighbor (female)

muñeca- in this context, doll

hey taglist, come get y’all’s juice

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #we can be heroes #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pascalpanic

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princessmariaphiliper · 3 years

Text

THE SLEEPOVER FIC | Part 1 The Meeting

Notes: James Acaster, Ed Gamble (Platonic), and other characters to be added.

Pairing: James Acaster x Reader

Genre: Fluff with eventual smut, Slow Burn fic

Words: 1,951

Summary: You and James have put yourselves into trouble, but you think maybe it’s hotter that way.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

It was a boring, cottage cheese Wednesday if anyone had bothered to ask you. The sky held a greyish tinge and the London air tasted like exhaust fumes as you made your way back home from the studio. It was 5:50 and you were more than ready to curl into bed, put on a podcast, and stare at your ceiling until you slept.

You’d been tied up in a project lately that stripped every brain cell out of you whenever you tried to think about it.

This wasn’t because you didn’t like it! Don’t get me wrong, you adored the concept you were trying to convey through your piece. It was just missing something. Hence, Wednesdays the past month had started to feel a little groundhog esque. You knew the fog would part soon.

Pulling your clattering keys from inside your coat pocket you unlocked the door to your flat. Upon entering you noted the new letters. A missed parcel, various pizza menus and an enclosed envelope from Ticketmaster. Grinning, you opened it up.

Ed Gamble, McDonalds Apple Pie, November 15th 2021. Sounded delicious, you pulled out your phone, texting Ed.

Hey! Just got your tickets through. Where are you rehearsing? Let me know when it starts and we can plan something :)

It had been a while since you and Ed had hung out. You lived on opposite ends of the city and for the most part you were usually busy when he was free ,or vise versa. That the trouble of being friends with theatre people, no matter how hard you try, the schedules don’t gel. However, Ed usually rehearsed his shows in the venue below your flat, luckily this time was no exception.

I start Friday, usual place. We can go for drinks after I finish at 7 if you like?

Yes :))))) would love that!! Can we say 7:15 though as I’ll have to get back from the studio and change

Yeah that’s fine, I’ll invite some people if that’s okay. We can meet you at the pub first?

Sounds perfect, see you then. Send Claire love!

Will do :)

You put the kettle on and made yourself a pot noodle. Getting ready to sleep before another day of making. Excited at least, with the knowledge that on Friday night, you were getting shitfaced with your mates.

And so Friday arrived. You started the day off right with a banana and a coffee to go on your way down to the youth centre. Fridays and Tuesdays were your favourite days of the week currently. On these days you worked with other women exploring the ideas of femininity within society. For many years it had been a passion project of yours, creating dialogues with women who’d gone through difficult times in their lives to convey their struggles through art.

Today you were hosting a dance workshop with a group you had been working with for a while. They had all been making tremendous progress over the past few months you wanted to hold a class in celebration.

“Good morning Y/N” a familiar face beamed from across the hallway.

“Good morning Olive!” Olivia was a petite lady, somewhere close to her mid forties. She had dyed fire colour hair that she always wore up in a headscarf. She was dance ready, wearing an outrageous and gaudy pair of printed leggings.

Olive had grown so much as a woman since the first time you had met her, in one of your first ever workshops. The two of you had become thick as honey ever since. She even occasionally helped you plan and run some workshops out of studio now. It gave you joy to know you helped her grow into her full potential in one way or another.

“How have you been?”

“Oh same old. Trying not to lose myself in projects. How about you?”

“Brilliant! Officially divorced on Monday. Sorry I couldn’t make it on Tuesday I was feeling the effect after a few too many champagnes” she laughed, her smile was contagious. Olive had been going through a complicated divorce for a good few years now, some of the reasons she started the project stemmed from such a relationship.

She was such a resilient woman, managing to smile through whatever life had put her through. You loved her distinct lack of care for what people thought of her being a single woman in her forties.

It made you really put your life into perspective when you had met her. Even encouraging you to drop ties with your ex partner four years ago, who simply, didn’t care for you as a person but rather as an stability object. You hadn’t been in anything serious since. Not that you didn’t want it, being single had it’s perks too. You simply hadn’t been searching. A “bold move” in your late 20’s.

“Congratulations, I’m so happy for you! I’ll have a few for you tonight darling”

“Out on the town are you?”

“Yeah I’m meeting an old friend and hopefully some new people too”

“Well don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she said with a wink.

“I’ll try my best”

It was 7:05 and you were definitely going to be late. You’d just set off from the studio, pushing your way through the crowds on the busy streets near your flat. It had been an intense day in the end, most of you and your class had gotten carried away with your choreography. Immersed in the music and memory you wanted to portray. In the end you had all learnt one another’s routines and combined them all to a jazz beat.

You were still in your sports bra, leggings and oversized shirt with the duffel bag over your shoulder when you reached the outside door to your apartment complex. You heard a voice boom at you from behind.

“Y/Nickname” you turned around, instantly knowing who it was by the stupid name.

“Ed!”

He was coming up from the basement venue staircase, there was another man loitering casually behind him. In an instant you recognised him from the telly. It was the one and only James Acaster, dressed in a deep green suit, white shirt and purple Oxfords. He had a peppering of stubble across his face that you hadn’t seen him sport on tv before. You noted it looked good on him. You made your way over to your friend and embraced him into the first hug you’d had in a long time.

“Sorry I just got back, I might be a little late. I need to have a shower. Very sweaty”

“Yes. Thanks for the hug” he said, making you chuckle. “We can wait around for you if you like. No one else is coming until later anyways. Oh! This is James by the way” James have a polite wave of a hello and smile at you then.

You didn’t quite know the etiquette of meeting people you’d seen on Dave for years. A simple, “Hi I’m Y/N” you decided was the most normal option. “You can come up if you like. I won’t be too long”

“Sure”

And so the trio of you braced the stairs and made it into your apartment. You moved rubbish around as you all entered. Slightly ashamed of how messy it was, moving open books into one corner of the living room to make space on the coffee table for some drinks. If they were waiting for you you’d at least fix them a little something as a thank you.

“What would you like? I’ve got vodka, gin or tequila. Lemonade orange juice and pineapple juice for mixer”

“Ooh vodka and pineapple sounds delicious Y/N” Ed said with some excitement, taking a comfortable seat on the sofa. James hung nervously by the door, as though he wasn’t sure of the etiquette this time.

“Same here” he agreed

“Please have a seat, make yourself at home.” You said with a smile, watching as he looked around the room. You became slightly anxious that his glaze was clouded with judgement until he spoke as he went to take a seat next to Ed.

“Nice place, where’d you get the paintings?” He asked genuinely as you began pouring three glasses of juice.

“I made them myself”

“Oh you’re an artist?”

“Sort of, I work in lots of art forms, mostly theatre and community projects. Not painting though, it’s just hobby and plus, home décor is expensive”

He chuckled a little at that as you brought the two of them their drinks over. “I’ll put some music on while you shower is that okay?” Ed said, taking his phone out after taking a swig of his drink. “That’s strong”

“Sorry might have given you mine” you said jokingly “let me disconnect my Bluetooth then” you said getting out your own and switching to Spotify. You played the music for a second or two just until you had it disconnected. It was the song you’d been working with all day at the studio with the jazz beat and hypnotic drumming.

“Is that Jon Bap?”

“Yeah, I was using it today at work” His eyes gleamed, visibly excited by the idea of it.

“I love ‘What Now’,” he took a drink and shaking his head to himself “Such good drums on that album”

“Yeah, you like the drums?”

“Was a drummer for years in my 20’s”

You were slightly shocked by his comment on his age, always assuming he was younger than 30. Although it made sense for him and Ed to be in the same age bracket.

“Hey, that's cool, I never made it further than level two recorder. Guess I just don't have musical genes, anyways I’ll hop in the shower. Won’t be long”

You made your way to the bathroom. Listening as the two men struck up a conversation. Giddy from the knowledge of their being pleasant conversation and good company tonight. You’d always admired James, never really considering the fact you may possibly meet him. You hoped that wouldn't mess up the possibility of a future friendship, by making a reference to something that he’d said on the telly before. Shaking the idea you stripped off, turning on the faucet and climbing inside.

After you’d felt refreshed you did a little, awkward, jig to your bedroom in your towel. You hadn’t considered the fact that from where James sat on the couch you could see all the way down the corridor. Your bathroom being on the right, and your room right on the very end. Embarrassment aside you dried off your hair and did your makeup quickly yet efficiently. Slowing down only to put on a red lip with care. You then got dressed. Choosing to opt for something a little fancy tonight as the other two had clearly made an effort. Even if you did end up somewhere at 4am, it still felt good to dress up for the walk of ‘platonic’ shame.

You chose a silky skirt with a slip down the leg in a champagne iridescent colour. Paired with a tight long sleeved polo in white. You slipped on a pair of socks with ruffles over the top of your rhinestone tights. You emerged from your room feeling a little more confident and ready for a boogie.

James smiled brightly at you when he noticed you’d come out. Something else was flashing across his face that you couldn’t quite pinpoint however. You brushed it off, blaming the triple vodka pineapple you’d been sipping through your ready-ing routine.

“7:28, not bad” Ed said looking at his watch when you fully entered your living room. Pulling on your white leather converse. You told him to shut up in response and book an Uber.

#james acaster x reader #james acaster #james acaster imagines #james acaster fanfic

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crestbound · 3 years

Text

in another life, i was free.

In one lifetime, they’re gathered around a fire—him, Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid. It must be summer in Fraldarius; Sylvain can hear the crash of ocean waves off the towering cliffside far away. They’re not old enough to be here completely unsupervised, but neither are they too young to know how to sneak away. The Fraldarius maids must be turning the castle upside-down.

The fire crackles. Sylvain remembers that look on Felix’s face; it’s the look he gets when he boasts about something Glenn had done, to be inevitably followed by his own plans to follow in his brother’s footsteps.

(He misses that look. He misses when Felix’s eyes used to shine with a world of things to look forward to.)

“I wish I had a sibling too,” Dimitri admits. “Someone strong, like Glenn... or smart, like Miklan!”

No, Sylvain thinks wryly, you really don’t.

But the one huddled by the fire, handing Ingrid a skewer of meat, doesn’t agree. This one looks happier. This one is braver.

“I can be your brother, Dima,” he says, which is everything wrong and everything he’s ever tried to be. “I can be everyone’s big brother!”

“Oh?” comes a familiar voice, carrying over the sound of footsteps on sand, of waves yet to announce a storm. Sylvain feels his heart jump once and catch in his throat when Miklan walks into view. It’s almost a knee-jerk reaction, to run in between them.

“Miklan—” he begins, but even his breath tangles in his lungs when Miklan simply walks right through him. (Run. Why are you here? I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry—)

“Forget about being a brother,” Miklan says, lacking so much vitriol that Sylvain has to turn, light-headed and nauseous, to stare at him again. “You’re going to be grounded, first. All of you are. The whole castle’s in a panic; Glenn’s about to round up the entire Fraldarius army just to look for you brats.”

“But we wrote a letter!” the young Sylvain protests.

Miklan rolls his eyes. (Wrong shade of brown. His hair’s so much shorter, here. He’s missing the scar on his jaw.) “You wrote ‘off to play.’ That’s not a letter, Syl.”

Syl.

His heartbeats grow louder and louder in his ears, crashing against an incessant ringing, the howling gusts of his breaths. Miklan’s never called him that. Miklan’s never been this nice, either. Miklan is...

(If it weren’t for you...!)

...Miklan is...

Shall we try again?

In another lifetime, the Margrave is ill. They say he caught a sweating sickness from the north, where the Srengi have been tearing down the border walls and pillaging the villages just beyond. He’s expected to die within the moon.

Sylvain is six years old when the margravine tells him.

“Oh,” he says, and looks down at his feet. His mother taps her finger on the table once, too proper to clear her throat. Sylvain straightens up to look at her until she smiles. “When is Miklan coming home?”

“Perhaps in a week or two,” she replies. “But I trust he will be present for the exchange of seals.”

They’re to destroy the margrave’s official wax seal stamp, made of gold and treated blackwood, and create a new one—this time, with Sylvain’s initials instead of his father’s. It’ll be used to seal the letter to the king, announcing the death of the margrave and a schedule for his heir’s arrival at the capital. In Fhirdiad, he’ll kneel before the throne and swear his pledges again.

Sylvain frowns, and resists every urge to shift uneasily in his seat. “...He has to be. Isn’t it going to be his ceremony?” After all, Miklan is the margrave’s firstborn. He’s charismatic, and he’s smart, and he’s terrifyingly brutal with a lance. There isn’t a single soldier in the Gautier cavalry that doesn’t admire him.

But the margravine isn’t part of the cavalry. Though she hasn’t said a word of it herself, everyone in the castle knows that their lady, a paragon of every feminine virtue belonging to the nobility, laments every day for her one failure in life: Miklan Anschutz Gautier, born to her without a Crest.

Imagine that.

“Oh, Sylvain,” she tuts. Her hands are soft when she reaches out to touch him, brushing the hair out of his face and tucking unruly locks behind his ear. “Don’t be silly; of course it will be you. You’re our son.”

But not Miklan. Not Miklan, whose eyes are a closer shade of hazel to the margravine’s than Sylvain’s are; not Miklan, whose laughter echoes the same way the margrave’s does, heavy and confident. Not Miklan, born with a blessing from each of the Four Saints, from Macuil’s keen eye for strategy to Indech’s indomitable strength.

But not Miklan, Crestless and worthless, of the right flesh but not the right blood.

The margravine pulls back. She looks satisfied with her work. “Now,” she says, “Let’s enjoy some tea, shall we?” It’s one of her favorites, a cinnamon blend with a touch of honey. In this life, Sylvain likes it, too.

His brother ends up returning home in five days. Just an hour after sunset, Sylvain—older, taller, the one that survived—watches Miklan kill him.

Neither of them flinches when a sickening crack sounds from the bottom of the well.

In this lifetime, that’s the end.

—we try again?

The next life starts with blood.

He’s angry. Not him, but him—the Sylvain of this life, thrown away and forgotten. There’s a jagged scar that runs from his left temple down to his right cheek, a sick mirror image of Miklan’s worst injury.

And it strikes him, then, that this is the life where it finally happens; this is the life where everything’s turned around. Flames devour a small village just on the border between Gautier and Fraldarius. They don’t have much to plunder, but it isn’t about what can be stolen; it’s about the message that’ll be sent.

Even here, Fraldarius and Gautier enjoy a good relationship. Even here, Sylvain is smart enough to know the best way to hurt his father is through shame.

Your son did this, they’ll tell him. Control him.

And what can he do but try? Even disinherited and stripped of everything he has, Sylvain is still a Gautier. He’s the margrave’s responsibility, especially when he begins causing trouble for the duke.

But of course his father would never come himself. Sylvain can burn a hundred villages, kill a thousand civilians, steal a million bars of gold, and still, still, he’d send his prized son, his Crested son, his only son, to clean up the mess. That’s what he’s good for, after all. That’s what he’s worth. Riches and loves, hearth and home, all because the right blood sings in his veins.

“Miklan,” he rasps, smoke thick in his lungs. “Of course he’d send you.”

“That’s enough now, Sylvain,” Miklan replies, brandishing the Lance of Ruin. It titters and glows in his hands.

Sylvain—the real or the fake, the one that doesn’t belong, the one that should, that wishes, that doesn’t want to be—releases a quiet breath. Then another. A sound, then two, then three.

Then, he laughs.

Miklan kills him here, too.

—try again?

There’s a war in this life.

Behind him, on top of the hill, Dimitri refuses to die. He is a torrent of anger that threatens to tear open the heavens to drag down the Goddess by her neck. Several feet in front of him, Ingrid is already dead. She’s half-crushed by her pegasus, bent and twisted in all sorts of ways.

Between her and Sylvain—the one fighting, the one losing—is Felix. The Sylvain that doesn’t belong knows with a sinking feeling in his gut that the blood on his cheek is Ingrid’s.

Sylvain lifts the Lance of Ruin. It’s tittering more than he’s ever seen in his life, stained through with blood and ichor.

“Hey, Felix?” His voice sounds tired. “Remember when we were kids and we made a promise about dying together?”

Felix doesn’t flinch. He’s always been like that—stubborn and unyielding, willing to commit himself to his decisions to the bloody, sad end. “I remember.”

Sylvain smiles, and it’s a pathetic thing, cracking at the edges. “Well,” he says, “seems we’re about to kill each other.”

There’s one moment where their heartbeats crash against each other, in sync. The next beat, they’re skewed again. One sounds like wardrums; the other, a funeral dirge. It isn’t hard to guess which is whose.

“Sorry, Sylvain.” There’s a flash of a blade. Sylvain—both—wonders if the blood that’s still on it is Ingrid’s.

“Fe—”

“You’ll die first.”

(I know.)

—again?

That’s enough.

#UnlockedWesternFaerghus2021 #drabble #also quote spoiler for cf felix vs am sylvain #u can tell i started off with Ideas that i wanted and then got lazy after like a sentence in shdoigshd

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11byers · 3 years

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Talk to us girl! What else do you have to say about El's arcs through the seasons and motherly love? I want to hear THIS content, f*ck all the ship wars!!

i’m so sorry this took actual months to reply to, i’m not gonna get into why just.... hi anon, ty for your patience 😭 tbh i'm not sure if i'm saying anything new, but this is almost 3k words long so hopefully i'm offering something

a few things to note before i delve into everything, bc this is a gendered topic:

el identifies w femininity, even after being raised in a lab w just a number as a name, essentially raised w/o any real gender constructs set in place, or at least not enough to understand gender fundamentally. but she identifies w femininity, as seen in the way she gravitates to feminine symbols in her surroundings. and it's interesting how her relationships w female characters are always given a bit of attention

the way fathers are portrayed on this show is... notable. we've got el's father figure brenner, as well as kali's relationship w brenner, steve's dad is apparently an asshole, ted is ted (not the worst but isn't much anyways), billy's dad been abusive his whole stay, lonnie is a danger to society, and hopper, although arguably redeemable and has been given more attention since he's a central character…… hasn't been the best all the way through. lucas' dad was p alright and dustin……… doesn't have one 🙃

meanwhile we got joyce who's the best parent in this entire show PERIOD absolutely beautiful amazing talented show-stopping etc etc, there's karen who almost slept w a minor but made a last minute decision not to (karen is a work in progress and i have a lot of thoughts about her i'm not gonna get into), dustin's mom is cute (a bit dopey but cute), lucas' mom is also cute, billy's mom is practically portrayed as an angel, and terry……… poor poor terry.

anyways there's a very clear difference.

st1

the topic of el and motherhood doesn’t really get tackled until st2, but i'm gonna go through this season by season. bc, spoiler alert, i'm fairly certain joyce will be el's mother/mother figure once the show's wrapped up. we can even say that's already happened after st3's ending, but ofc we're still in need of more personal relationship development.

basically, i believe el's relationship w motherhood, and her idea of mothers has a lot to do w joyce.

joyce is essentially el's "standard" (for lack of a better term) for what a mother is supposed to be.

someone might have to correct me on this, but i like to think that joyce is the first example of motherly love that el truly experiences (other than briefly seeing terry in the lab). not even when they first meet tho, but when the boys sneak el into the school and she "channels" will through the p.a. system.

when she hears joyce trying to comfort will and tell him to hide (which in itself messes me up bc depending on your take on the demogorgon, that shit is heart wrenching), i can only imagine what el might be thinking. what will has in joyce is completely different from what el has in brenner 😭

el's (as well as the show's tbh) view of fathers are very different from her view of mothers. fathers are demanding, ruthless, and cold. but she sees joyce, and she thinks mothers are passionate, caring, and protective, and all of that translates through a p.a. system when el hears joyce's desperation. i'm sure el sees a lot of herself in will - his fear and desperation, his terror of being in the upside down, describing it as cold and dark, just like the chamber brenner locks her in, or even the void, the water tank, her own room even - which only makes joyce's impression on her so much stronger.

and in ep7 'the bathtub' when el gets to have a one-on-one w joyce, there are certain points in that scene that parallel her and brenner, and i think that only hammers home el's idea of what mothers are and what they should be.

joyce promises her a presence. joyce is able to be there for her, comfort her, even when el is in a place like the void, that's just emptiness and darkness all around. she hears joyce's voice, and for once she's not alone. and it's nice to think she's w joyce and will in these moments, when she's in castle byers and she can act as a connection to will and joyce (a-and jonathan, sorry i don't really mention him throughout this piece, i didn't even expect to mention will this much, but jon's important too, we love a parental big brother).

it's shown how scared el can be moment to moment. the second will fades from her, she cries for him and curls up into a ball, and once she's out of the upside she latches onto joyce - and gosh the dependability!! joyce is there for her just like she promised.

this makes el meeting her own mother fuking heartbreaking.

st2

this idea of a mother sticks w el this whole time, and her idea of fathers doesn't get any better. i don't think el even pictures hopper as any kind of father figure, definitely not yet, but as a "friend," hence her shouting at him "friends don't lie". it's not until they're fighting and she shouts "you are like papa!" that it all comes full fuking circle!!

(it's the way hopper leaves her alone for hours, like how brenner isolates her in a dark chamber. it’s how in both instances, she’s still isolated from society. it's the way hopper sets rules for her that don’t allow to act instinctively on her own. it's him telling her "you wanna go back in the lab? i can make that happen." it's damaging shit. it's triggering.)

then el finds out that hopper lies to her again, but this time it's about her mother, which……..

that scene of her breaking down, crying for her mama, is so sad. idk what else to say, everything that happens from this point on is sad!!!!!!!

fast forward to el reaching terry and becky's house. i can't even imagine what el feels when she meets her mom for the first time……… and terry is in the state that she's in. barely responsive.

but i can say how el's guilt is continuously brought up time and time again, bc when she sees terry's memories and sees how determined terry was to get her back, the lengths she went through - it's all just like joyce. her expectations of a mother stays intact.

only, unlike joyce and will, things don't work out in the end for el and terry. terry suffers for trying to get el back. and it wouldn’t be surprising if that fed into el’s guilt.

(also, this has bothered me ever since first watch, but terry is portrayed w a bit of hostility when el returns. when el meets her in the void, and she's says she's home, terry tells her "no" and grabs her arm, triggering terry's memories. it's lead me to ask myself if terry holds resentment for el, and for the price terry had to pay....... or maybe it was just for dramatic scary horror, i’m not entirely sure.)

there's this moment right after el comes out of the void and back into reality, and becky tries to comfort her. bc of terry's unavailability, it's a possibility that becky could've been the mother figure that el needed. but the awkwardness in this moment - in how terry tries to comfort el, but el is still visibly shook and doesn't hug back, unlike her moment w joyce in st1, when el practically clings to her - kinda foreshadows how things just aren't gonna work out so ideally.

this next bit regarding el avenging terry may or may not be a lil "out there" but i think it's interesting to think about.

el views finding kali as something terry wants her to do. and kali echoes that sentiment. kali essentially acts as this one last tether el has to terry, which may be why she thinks of kail as a sister.

i have a lot of thoughts about el's self worth, her morality, her means of protecting others no matter what she suffers. i’m not about to go on a tangent, but just to get the main idea out there: el straddles a line between viewing herself as a monster and viewing herself as a protector, and anything outside of that feels is out of her reach.

what kali gives her is a chance to sorta explore that monstrous side of herself - the side that is willing to hurt others, even when there's no one in immediate danger to protect.

but kali is her last tether to her mother. and what kali is asking her to do clashes w what she pictures a mother is meant to do. i'm not saying kali is some kind of mother figure, nor is that really the bigger picture. but finding kali is something terry "told" her to do. it all plays a part in the scene when they confront the man that followed brenner's orders, ray carrell.

would terry actually want this for el?

el sees a photo of that ray and his daughters, and reminds herself of what she wants, what she yearns for, and what she's been deprived of. the reason why she feels so much pain, and is having so much trouble healing. and she chooses to protect the children - to prioritize the children - instead of giving in to the monster inside of her planted by brenner.

kali has different values. she's chosen a different path for herself. we're never really sure what kali knows about her own past, who she's met in her life, but we do know that she's lost people, and she doesn't have much of a connection to terry despite el considering her a sister.

and that comes full circle when kali makes el see brenner.

the words brenner uses here are technically just kali's words, since she told el the same things and brenner in this scene is just an image created by kali. but that's what makes this scene so brilliant. this scene is kali talking to el, but she’s masked as brenner.

brenner tells people they're sick. kali still believes she's sick. kali hasn't healed despite claiming to - instead she's become a mirror to brenner.

this is el's view of fatherhood: demanding, ruthless, and cold. brenner hurt el, and bc of all that hardship, el is in danger of becoming a mirror to brenner. and unfortunately, this is what kali has succumbed to. kali has failed to realize the monster she's so convinced that she is, is a concept completely fabricated by brenner.

this is what leads el back to her friends. just like how terry did everything in her power to save el and suffered devastating consequences, el returns to her friends to wholeheartedly put herself in that very position.

it's so touching to see el and joyce hug. although, joyce is still "will's mom" to el (she even refers to her as such in st3). but she still holds that connection to the byers family. el still prioritizes will's safety, just as she prioritized the kids back in chicago.

now to briefly cover what el and hopper's reconciliation means for this topic - it's a very vulnerable scene. one of the most vulnerable scenes in the entire show. el and hopper allow themselves to understand and relate to each other, through guilt and trauma and emotion, and bc of the profound impact of this conversation, hopper is…… enough. it’s still uncertain that el considers hopper as a father figure, but at this point she lost her mother, and she lost kali, and hopper lost sarah. they have each other though. and it gives both of them the chance to finally begin to heal.

el channels the anger she feels being deprived of a mother to close the gate. but the gate's essentially a scar still struggling to heal.

st3

it may be a mystery to no one that i'm not a big fan of st3, and there's not a lot to talk about in terms of el and joyce. couple notes about them tho, before we get into the real shit that happened this season

hopper asks if joyce could talk to el and mike for him, which she turns down, so they're deliberately being kept apart by the writers (i also feel like we have v limited knowledge of what joyce thinks of el, so she might be keeping her distance for reasons i'm not really sure of yet).

it's cute to think about how hopper's letter isn't just hopper's letter, but it's joyce's letter to el as well. el just doesn't know it.

let's talk about billy's mom.

el's relationships w female characters on this show always seem to be given a lil extra layer. and el's immediate draw towards billy's mom is so charming to watch. she calls her "pretty" and feels as if she's is looking at her, all before she even finds out who the woman is.

once again, the standard for motherhood on this show is enforced by billy's mom and her literal angel-like presence. she's good to billy, she allows him the freedom of doing what he loves, but not before warning him that dad might get mad!! great!!

billy goes through very similar phases that el went through

his father is abusive, and hurts both billy and the mother

billy loses his mom

the lack of proximity to his mom eventually leads him to mirror the toxicity of his father

the moments that el seems to recognize rather quickly are when billy's dad is being abusive, billy desperately wanting his mom to come home, and billy quickly succumbing to toxicity.

we've explored this pattern in previous seasons, so it's pretty easy to piece together, even within a quick montage.

so when el has her moment w billy, reminding him of his mom, it's so incredibly powerful. when you think about how much this moment upon, after everything that happened in the previous 2 seasons, it just hits.

just as we've discussed how motherhood throughout the show has meant prioritizing the safety of the ones you care about and protecting them against all odds, billy protects el from the mind flayer to the point of self sacrifice.

(and while i may not agree that it completely works just bc of how i feel about billy as a character, it works to tie in all these themes really well. also i'm sure there's other kinds of readings you can do on this scene, i even thought about this scene completely differently a couple months back but ANYWAYS-)

honestly, the way el comforts max in this scene...... feels kinda motherly. there's definitely something to be said about how el's not always treated as just a child - despite still learning speech, she's still been forced to grow up in other aspects of herself, and she constantly puts herself in a position to protect others. but this scene w el and max is sweet, and it's nice that max has el for that moment before el eventually moves away w the byers.

and ofc, el loses hopper this season, which in her mind leaves her parentless. joyce is there regardless (tho joyce taking over for hopper and watching over el does kinda happen in a "no explanation needed" kinda way, and i'm not really sure how i feel about that).

joyce and el have still quite a ways to go before really developing the mother-daughter relationship that feels inevitable at this point. and after hopper's death, the way this season ended, and the way joyce and el interact, there's a bit of uncertainty as to how their relationship will develop. even after the 3 month jump, they come off as rather distant from each other.

nut yeah, i'm excited for st4. after engaging in all the ship wars, and having my own gripes w how the duffers write romance, i think i'm starting to fall back in love w this show. writing this has definitely made me feel happier about the show, and made me feel excited about certain aspects of the show that might've been in the back of my mind, but now it's all at the forefront.

i really do love el as a character, and joyce might be a very close second, if not at the same level as el. their stories have been leading towards each other since the beginning and i can't wait until we get the payoff.

i hope someone reads this lol. again i’m sorry this took months......... depression uh anon, i hope this is what you wanted 😂 and if anyone feels compelled to add on feel free to do so 😊………. hopefully it's positive lol

#hopefully this ends up in the tags bc wow this is long and i wanna know other peoples thoughts!!#stranger things #st meta #el hopper #joyce byers #kali #op tag #anonymous

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ihateyourmom · 2 years

Text

my review for red tv the regular tracks

state of grace:crystal clear vocals, reminds me of 13 going on 30, dont ask me why. Her voice is nice and sharp, very different from og , maybe it needs more conviction in the delivery?? but overall very good 👍, not a lot of thoughts yet <3

red: this one is amazing, she nailed the title track, I feel all the angst and the drama I did in 2012

treacherous: the way she made a sad song more happy, I dont like it as much, but I'm just being picky, I do like this one, I think she did a good job, there is some minute changes

I knew you were trouble: a little boring? like less angst? the drops arent as dramatic, but the bridge is sadder, the way she pronounces anything sends me jsksdndk

all too well: the way she says your cheeks were turning red and bed is everything, I love this version, a more mature version, and the backing vocals, chef's kiss <3

22: very much an older taylor reminiscing about being 22 and singing this song, it feels like its different in that it has almost a nostalgic quality for her when she sings it, and that comes out in the song and the way she delivers it

I almost do: So good, always a favorite, truly heartbreaking </3(the way she says dooooehhh)

wanegbt: I know this is unpopular but I like it 🙈, like my mutual once said "the MEification of wanegbt"(@lockeskidney), it's so funny but also endearing, rip to the people who like noncringey music, I'm different <3

stay stay stay: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, I'm so surprised I like this one, because I didnt care for it that much before!! but it's such a cute song!! I'll be loving u for quite some time 🥰

the last time: just as heartbreaking as ever, the cool thing is hearing the changes in both Gary and Taylor's voices, giving it a more mature picture, rather than the song being about a breakup, it is now about a divorce, "no past no where to hii-i-dde"

holy ground: I sense more of a somber gratefulness in the tone, the og version sounds more like a frantic celebration of a relationship, while this one gives a sense of remembrance that is more sacred ( no pun intended), I love the depth!

sad beautiful tragic: it feels like she almost narrating this relationship from outside of it, like she is overlooking it in a snow globe away form its emotional damages helpless to change the tragic fate of the relationship but still empathizing with her younger self going thru it.

the lucky one: the angst!!! I didnt knew I needed the extra emotion she puts into this version!! it's much more raw, even if her voice is more polished, it's like all her worst nightmares came true, and shes mad, full circle moment <3

everything has changed: the duet that keeps on giving, the bitter sweetness this song exudes, the rerecorded version of ed vocals provide a more earnest picture of the beginnings of a relationship, u can feel the joy <3 ( the backing vocals on the bridge were a little messy)

starlight: Taylor's feminine urge to mess up the starlight I wont forgive her for. wheres the fun? we are not dancing? we are slowly swaying maybe, like no energy, wheres the fast and loose fun of sneaking around and being young??? HELP

begin again: it sounds like shes trying to make her voice sound like a younger version of herself, and it's kinda works? I think this song is probably one of the better reproductions, as far as closely matching the original as possible, 10/10

#mine #taylor swift #red tv

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piccolina-mina · 3 years

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The entire One Chicago franchise is a mess when it comes to the romantic components of the series. But Chicago PD continues to be the most uninspired, boring, and redundant mess when it comes to their romantic ships and how they display them.

It's as if someone holds a gun to their head and says "let's choose the most basic, young, white heteronormative relationships and smack a cutesy name on them. Fandom will eat it up!" And without fail, fandom always does.

It's bad enough that half the Intelligence Unit thinks they can only date or sleep with each other. It's also bad enough that it further contributes to Chicago PD's ongoing issue with rarely knowing what to do with its female characters beyond specific plots I've come to call the "traditionally feminine womanly plots" and tying them in with a male character where everything about them hinges on their connection to a male. And also that "there can only be one" issue where only one of the female characters can serve as the primary one while the others duke it out for screentime, plot, and relevancy (congrats on always winning Lindsay and Hailey).

But they recycle the same things ad nauseum. For eight seasons, they would rather devote all of their time cooking up romantic subplots that exclusively feature a constant rotation of Ruzek and Halstead. I get it, they're attractive, hell, I'm no stranger to thirsting over Ruz myself, but they're the lotharios of the unit as if only they can be desirable, and it's gotten so old. My God.

They would rather give us these two involved with mostly young and white women, especially their squad mates, then devote screentime to literally any alternative couple.

I mean they have SHARED a love interest. Why? The only ships they have ever devoted significant screentime or development to: Halstead and Erin, Halstead and Upton, Ruzek and Burgess, Ruzek and Upton, Burgess and Roman. Qwhite shocking, I know.

Trudy and Mouch have one of the sweetest crossover romances from the franchise, and it's so refreshing to see a middle-aged couple find love, and yet, they've all but cooled off showing them, rarely give that ship screentime, and it tends to stay in the peripheral compared to the big ships.

Dawson had a romance with Brett from Chicago Fire (another character who gets passed around to the point of absurdity), but they did very little with it, and most of THAT even took place on CF.

They gave Dawson something troubling with another law enforcement officer or whatever for like a single episode, but hell, they still devoted more time and actual arcs to the two or three times where they put Halsted in similar relationships because of course they did.

Never forget that the first relationship that dates pre-series was Chicago Fire's Gabby with *spins wheel* you guessed it, Jay Halstead.

And of course there was Erin and Severide. So pretty. So ... basic.

Yet they never attempted to give us more of Dawson and his wife or Olinsky and his. The women were barely characters on the series. It would've been something.

I don't mind Burzek. Out of all the ships, I enjoy them most more often than not, but it has been eight seasons of will they/won't they bullcrap that they've drawn out. All of these ups and downs. The one non-cop related romance Burgess had lasted all of a second and ended in tragedy because heaven forbid they DON'T put that woman through endless pain.

But they've always remained the second place ship of the series, and it's just... enough. Meanwhile, we started the series with Erin and Halstead monopolizing screentime with their romantic situationship drama, and instead of giving it a rest and changing things up when she left, they switched it out with the Halstead and Hailey will they/won't they. Why?

Heaven forbid Halstead or Ruzek don't have a piece of ass.

Ruzek was even Trudy's choice for a relationship ruse to dupe her father.

In the meantime, one of the most outlandish and unrealistic parts of this series is that Kevin Atwater-- young, smart, just as hot as Chicago PD's golden, pretty, white boys hasn't had a real, significant romantic storyline in the eight years this series has been on air.

In what universe does that make sense? Single, eligible, employed, decent black man? Da faq?

Pardon my bluntness but Kevin Atwater should be seeing more ass than a toilet seat. The fact that he isn't batting folks off with a stick is ludicrous.

He had ONE fkd up romantic storyline in his one "very special black Kevin" episode in season SIX and that's it. Pardon me? Do you know how many of those Jay has had? Twice or more than Kevin.

On a series that pairs up colleagues like it's their mission, they never once even considered taking the Burgess and Atwater relationship in any other direction beyond platonic (and even that is underused these days). I'm not even saying I would've wanted that. I'm just pointing out that it made no sense given their track record to not even tease it. But Kevin is only good for platonic purposes, I suppose.

The fact that they put all their eggs in a potential Atwater and Rojas ship, that never even came to fruition, in season SEVEN of a series Atwater has been in since the beginning when characters like Adam and Jay have already had two relationships or more under their belts by then is ridiculous.

And then there's Voight. He's the lead character and never once had a romantic storyline. If he were younger, you already know they would've went there a few times over.

Yet the closest Hank has come to one is an ambiguous scene with him talking to a sex worker in a hotel room back in, like, season two. Are we to believe that he has never once developed feelings for or even had sex with anyone else since his wife died? He's never moved on after that?

They could easily allude to him being on an ace or demi spectrum if they want, even if I would side eye them for choosing the older character to do it, but if that's the case, they should do something with that.

Even a storyline with a widowed, middle- aged hardass finding love or getting some would be infinitely more interesting and at the very least something different than the same old same old Ruzek & Halstead merry-go-round. Damn, the 50 and over crowd need love too.

And yet Chicago PD keeps feeding us the same bland diet repackaged.

Fine. Burzek has been a thing from the beginning. But after Jay and Erin WHY did they need Hailey and Jay? And if they were going to do Jay and Hailey, why in the mother loving fk did we need Hailey and Adam?

The good sis bagged not one but both of the coveted white boys.

I mean, just for variety, Dawson was right there. Kevin was right there. I wouldn't have been a fan, but hell, it would at least be something different. Much better than acting as if Halstead and Ruzek are the only viable romantic options.

Why subject her to that?

Isn't it bad enough that she's more often than not reduced to being Lindsay Lite anyway? They struggle to give her a presence that deviates and distinguishes her from Erin as is. From her troubled past, and her stage of being mini- Voight and challenging his authority, to this thing with Jay.

Hell, they even repeated a whole job offer thing.

Mind you, don't get me started on how they missed what should've been the obvious chance to make Hailey queer. If I'm stepping on toes, my bad, but everything about Hailey screamed bi or lesbian. She radiated queer energy, but INSTEAD they chose to pair her with not one but both of CPD's romantic male leads.

Why beat this well-tread path yet again?

Of all the possibilities, and all the different avenues they can explore, they just keep dipping into that same well, and it's so tiresome. It's so unoriginal and uninspired. Yes, it's just so basic. I'm talking 20th century shipping... CPD is so outdated with this and it makes it hard to invest or care about any of them, especially if you already aren't inclined to ship within the series as is.

Shock me. Thrill me. Intrigue me. Bloody hell.

#chicago pd #anti upstead #I'll tag it that just to be nice #ship culture #updated with pics to break up the blocks for the visual learners

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mydisasteracademia · 3 years

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Random LOV Headcanons

• Repeating something from my book “Did My Time”, due to the damage to Dabi’s body, he needs to use eyedrops multiple times a day. The amount depends on whether or not he uses his Quirk a lot; if he uses it more, he’ll need to practically drown his eyes with special medicated eyedrops to help with the dry-eye.

Adding onto this, due to his body’s natural affinity for the cold, he prefers cold things more than hot, because he has a worse reaction to hot/spicy things compared to other people (just like his mother). Yes, this means I HC him to absolutely never get brain freeze. The others are always jealous of him whenever he chugs a Slurpee in one go.

His burnt, scarred skin is extremely sensitive, especially to scents and scented lotions. He’s found that ointment works to keep things moist, but that also means he needs to be constantly re-applying it every time it dries, given that his Quirk is constantly drying out his skin to the point of damage. Every time his staples tug, even a little, it’s really painful and he’s prone to bleeding.

He does have a bit of a protective instinct, but only over those he deems weaker than him (and let’s be honest, he already has a lot of trouble with his own self-image, so that list might be shorter than you’d think). Definitely has an ‘irritated older sibling to hyperactive younger sibling’ relationship with Toga once they start to get closer. Gets unnecessarily competitive with others he considers stronger than himself, even if he himself doesn’t immediately realize what he’s doing.

Due to his Quirk being dangerous to himself, he can smell off, and he gets very touchy about it. Having grown up in a wealthy family, he can get very insecure at his bedraggled appearance and smell. He literally smells like burnt flesh all the time, and it lingers on his own body and his clothing. Due to this, he always hits up a laundromat to wash his clothes a few times a week, using money he’s picked off of wealthier victims of his. Really lays on the cologne to mask his natural corpse smell (and usually ends up smelling like pine trees, smoke, and something vaguely rotting).

Dabi is incredibly touch-starved, given that most people look at him and recoil in horror. He’s more like a cat, though. If you give him too much attention, he gets annoyed, but if he happens to rest his arm on your head or shoulder, that’s his way of subtly asking for positive attention. Depending on who’s doing it, he won’t immediately shove someone away if they decide to hug him. He’s a bit iffy with touch, and the fear of accidentally hurting someone he’s close to with his own Quirk messes with his head a lot. He can be a bit of an attention whore, given his fucked-up childhood, and when he gets praise it can put him in a good mood for a while. He really internalizes negative attention and can brood about not being good enough for a long time though. Won’t admit it, but he lives for headpats. Please give him headpats. He deserves headpats. Just watch out for the hair dye.

• Shigaraki’s Quirk does affect his body, though not by quickly decaying him like he does other things. Instead it’s more of a ‘slow-burn’ decay, and his constant itching is one side-effect of that. Since his body is constantly breaking down (his scratching gets rid of a lot of dead skin on the surface), his skin is incredibly sensitive and he can’t use most face/skin products because it damages him even more and he reacts horribly to it. So far he hasn’t found a brand that can help with his marred skin. Adding to this, he can’t stand spicy foods because it aggravates his decaying body.

Since his body is in a constant state of death and dying, this means he can smell off on even good days. It could be described as musty or ‘stale’, and since he’s extremely sensitive to scents and lotions/creams, he can’t exactly just use any old cologne to mask it.

Sometimes his throat gets super dry and he chokes on debris from his own mouth and throat. He needs to constantly hydrate to keep things from getting a bit too dusty. This means he prefers wet/moist foods over dry, and if he eats anything dry he’ll have a drink to go with it. At Kurogiri’s insistence, he always has a few bottles of water in his room at a time so he doesn’t have to get up in the night to go to a working sink for a drink.

This boy is so touch-starved. Whenever someone of the League hugs him, he acts huffy about it, but he doesn’t shove them off (unless it’s Dabi giving him a noogie, then he threatens death, much to the taller one’s amusement). He secretly craves touching other people. He’s terrified of accidentally dusting someone he cares about again (his family’s deaths haunt his dreams more nights than not), but if someone hugs him he just kind of melts into it. Someone please hug this boy. He needs headpats and positive reinforcement.

• Spinner absolutely loves sunning himself on rocks during summer. Whenever the weather is hot and it’s sunny, if he has a day off you’ll find him chilling outside on a rock just soaking up the sun.

Adding onto this, he really loves humid, hot weather. While the rest of the League (especially Dabi) is suffering, he’s just vibing with the weather.

And he sheds. Usually a few times a year, but it’s not uncommon to see large swaths of translucent white patches left behind. This can annoy the League, but to his credit, Spinner tries to keep it on the down-low. More than once he’s tried inconspicuously rubbing his arm or cheek against Shigaraki to try and help get the dead skin off. (He gets really irritated, but it helps with the itching a bit, so he doesn’t really complain unless he’s trying to concentrate on something.)

• Compress will casually swipe up random items that the League leaves around and later might give them back depending on what it is. The other members can get varying levels of annoyed at this, but they don’t get too beat up about it considering Compress’s Quirk and personality. (This is how Toga lost her favorite lip gloss. She didn’t stop pouting for a week until Twice bought her another one.)

When he gets anxious or bored, he often resorts to simple hand tricks to keep himself entertained: fiddling around with his marbles, practicing simple card tricks, or practicing magic.

• Toga loves horror. Almost any horror. Especially guro. During movie nights with the League, as long as the movie has some form of mutilation and/or blood, she’s giving it her full attention. Adding to this, she really loves anything written by Junji Ito and has read Tomie about twenty times. Despite this, she has a soft spot for cutesy things and her aesthetic is Gurokawa. She definitely has a Gloomy Bear plush or two.

She definitely has a fondness for beauty products, given that she’s still just a normal girl despite her Quirk. This fact can make her really insecure, and she’s prone to depressive episodes just like anyone else in the League where she does herself up real pretty just to try and feel more ‘in tune’ with her femininity and less like the monster her parents saw her as. Magne helped with this a lot in the past, but now that she’s gone she relies more on the others to help cheer her up.

She is not above forcing the other League members into spa days. Shigaraki is the only one who doesn’t have to get a facial, though she does insist on painting his nails and doing his hair.

• Kurogiri’s mist/fog can get blown away quicker than he can create more, but only by a very strong wind. It’s hilarious. Shigaraki can’t stop teasing him for it.

Is not above using his Quirk to forcefully separate two squabbling parties, especially in the bar hideout.

When he’s bored, he does bar tricks, much to Toga’s delight.

Since quite a few League members are under drinking age, he always makes sure to have sparkling cider on hand.

He carries snacks and a first-aid kit every time the League goes out on a mission -- especially when it’s Shigaraki heading out. He really does care for the man and will be the first to hand him ointment whenever his skin gets really crumbly or damaged.

Has come to reluctantly see the League as people he worries for. That’s the closest to “hm yes these are my children now I must protect” that you’ll get.

He misses Magne for how sensible she could be. He appreciates Compress’s overall chill vibe and his being the voice of reason among their little group of mass murderers.

• Kurogiri and Magne were the League’s parental figures. You can’t fight me on this. (Kurogiri reluctantly, Magne enthusiastically.) Compress was more like the outgoing uncle that has a sense of humor nobody can really understand at first and was definitely a theater major in college.

• Shigaraki and Dabi love chicken nuggets. Every time someone brings home fast food, you can bet your ass they’ll have ordered like a fifty-piece chicken nugget meal from wherever sells that. Constantly have to deal with each other trying to swipe the other’s nuggets when they finish their own.

• Twice loves Vine compilations and can recite a worrying number of them from memory. He gets a kick out of the “A Bagel, Two Bagels” one for how much he relates to it.

• Before she died, Magne loved when Toga begged her to help her with makeup. It helped with her dysphoria when Toga would doll her up.

She loved window-shopping and imagining herself wearing some of the stylish clothes in shop windows.

Despite her cruel persona towards her enemies, Magne had a soft spot for elegant-cute things, kinda like Toga but a little less bloody.

• Muscular always challenges the other League members to arm-wrestling when he’s around. He always wins. The others have learnt not to accept his challenges, lest they want bruises/sprains.

• Mustard is very childish in his tastes. He loves chicken nuggets and mac n’ cheese. Provokes people by pulling his lower eyelid down and sticking his tongue at them. I can definitely imagine him muttering “Eat my shorts” or “Don’t have a cow, man” whenever another member is angry about something.

• In this household we pretend that Moonfish does not exist.

• If the League had Switches, you bet your ass they play Animal Crossing on them.

Toga would go for a ‘Aika Village’ aesthetic, all gloomy and creepy but with an undeniably cute element to it. Definitely wears pastels and gothic-themed clothing.

Shigaraki models his after his favorite RPG and hunts down NPCs that fit the personalities of the various characters. His favorite characters tend to be dogs. Will not hesitate to kick out any animal who fails his ‘vibe check’. Surprisingly, this game can calm him down almost as well as an RPG. Joycon drift is the bane of his existence.

Compress uses only the most glamorous, expensive items on his island. Outright refuses to use dirt paths. Uses only Snooty villagers.

Dabi wants his island to look the best and is uncharacteristically stern about how his island looks. Everything is very neat and streamlined (and he has an outdoor gym near his player’s home). Will physically fight anyone who tries to ruin it by littering or messing around on it. He has a rivalry with Compress about whose island looks the best.

Spinner doesn’t really care about how his island looks. He just wants to max out his encyclopedias. Shigaraki once caught him up at 3 AM because he was trying to catch a spider crab.

Kurogiri doesn’t play it that often, so his island is fairly undeveloped. Doesn’t really care about it, considering his responsibilities to the League overpower a video game.

Muscular doesn’t care about it at all and doesn’t play.

Mustard made his island look like something out of Harvest Moon or Stardew Valley; a town area, a forest, and even a beach.

#lov headcanons #league of villains

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thadelightfulone · 3 years

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All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 16

A/N: Sorry for the delay...but I think you’ll forgive me for the wait. 😏

December 18th - Part 1

DeeDee checked herself out in the mirror. She had on her favorite pantsuit and decided on a low slicked back chignon for her hair. She ran her hands down the suit jacket one last time and looked at her reflection.

“Today’s the day, DeeDee. We have worked so hard to get here and we deserve everything that is coming to our way.” She smiled and put her tortoise shell glasses on. “I’m proud of you and everything you will go on to accomplish starting today.”

DeeDee heard her phone chime and buzz across her dresser. She walked over and picked it up. It was Phyllis in the group chat.

Phyll: Your presentation is at 4pm, right?

DeeDee: Yes

Phyll: The Engineering building?

DeeDee: Yup

Phyll: What room?

DeeDee: 1759

Phyll: We’ll see you there.

DeeDee: Great, see you later.

Bev: We love you, DeeDee.

DeeDee: Love you, too.

DeeDee made her way out to the living room and grabbed her purse and laptop case from next to her desk. She locked up and headed to campus to get settled in for a long day.

---

Erik was cleaning up his desk. He came in early to send out the last of his work emails before he left for a week. He locked up his computer and stood up to leave when T’Challa walked in and stood near his desk.

“Hey Cuz.”

“You leave today, right?”

“Yup, my flight leaves in 2 hours.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m excited to see Dr. Bell. She helped me work through a lot of shit while I was in school.”

“That is expected, but you know what I mean.”

T’Challa took a seat in front of Erik’s desk. He pointed towards the chair across from him. Erik put his briefcase down and took a seat.

“How are you feeling?”

Erik is quiet for a moment, deep in thought. “Ready.”

“And you are sure?”

“You and Quis, I swear.” He rolled his eyes. “I get it. I messed up before. But at least, she showed her true self before I made a horrible decision.”

“Erik, we ask because we care.” T’Challa sat forward in the chair, “You were in such a rush to find the one and get married. You never took the time to really get to know her.”

“I know, I know.”

“You told her exactly what she needed to hear for her to act like the woman for you.” He put emphasis on act. “And she tried to trap you. So, yes we want to make sure that you know what the hell you are doing this time around.”

“I don’t need to be reminded of that fuck up.” He sighed, “Besides Quis said she is nothing like her. And I do know that for myself, too.”

“Marquis knows her?”

“Yeah, she is one of his doctoral students. Actually, hold on a sec.” He pulled out his phone. He went to a text thread, where his previous text was still unread.

Prince Erik: Good morning DeeDee. I hope you have a great day.

Prince Erik: Hey, you never did tell me how your presentation went. Let me know where we are celebrating.

Erik looked back at T’Challa, “Where was I? Right, DeeDee was one of his students.”

“Ok, and what do you know about her?”

“I know that she is everything I am looking for. She’s smart, funny and sweet. She calls me on my crap. Even if she is super nice about it.”

T’Challa nodded his head, “And you are ready for her?

“Yes, I am. And I know I deserve someone like her.” Erik smiled, “All the bullshit I went through in my last relationship, let me know I wasn’t ready back then. You’re right, I rushed and almost got in too deep with someone, who was all wrong for me.”

T’Challa looked at Erik, then touched his ring, “Does she know?”

“Yeah, and doesn’t even care.” He smiled, “I’m telling you, T. She is it.”

“For your sake, I really hope she is.”

He stood up and Erik followed.

“I’ll be fine.” Erik looked at his watch, “I should get going. I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Until then, cousin.” T’Challa hugged him, and then Erik grabbed his things. They left his office together.

---

DeeDee has watched three other defenses already. They were breaking for lunch before reconvening for the last two of the day. She made her way back to Dr. O’s office. He was letting her use it for the day.

“Hey DeeDee, how you feeling?”

“Hi Dr. O. I’m ok.” She took a seat on the couch. “I am not feeling as nervous now, but I am definitely ready for it to be over.”

“I get it. I’m so sorry that you couldn’t go earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m hoping they chose to give me the last spot because they liked my topic best.”

“I like the way you think.”

“Thanks, Dr. O.” Her phone goes off, “Ooooh, let me go get my friends. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Sure thing. I’ll see you back in the main room.”

DeeDee checked her phone and went outside to meet with Beverly and Phyllis. She hadn’t seen or spoken to Phyllis, but she had chatted with Beverly since that disastrous night out.

They ran up to her and gave her hugs.

“I’m so sorry girl.” Phyllis said as they all stepped back.

“I don’t know what’s going on. But don’t take that out on me.” DeeDee finally spoke.

“I know, I know. I just -”

“Men trouble.” Bev nodded towards Phyllis.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Your new friend, Erik.”

“What about him?” DeeDee rolled her eyes, “You know what, we can discuss this later. It’s time for the next presentation to start.”

All three of them walked to the room and DeeDee led them to seats in the center on the left-hand side. She returned to her spot up front and sat down to wait for the next doctoral student to present.

---

Marquis’ cell rang while he sat in his office.

“Hey E. What’s up man?”

“I’m back.”

“Wait! You’re already here?”

“Yeah, I just made it to my hotel. Figured I would hit you up to see what you’re doing tonight.”

“Just a simple dinner with the fam. But you are more than welcome to join us.” Marquis pulled his phone away and looked at the time, “What are you doing now?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“Come visit me on campus.”

“Seriously?”

“You ain’t doing nothing and I have to be here, so yeah. Just bring ya ass.”

“Is your office in the Engineering building?”

“Yeah, I’m in 1590, at the end of the main hall.”

“Alright, I’ll see you in 30.”

“Great, text me if I’m not in my office when you arrive.”

---

DeeDee blinked and the presentation after their lunch break was over. She sighed and looked back at her friends. She didn’t bother to invite any members of her family. They would see her on Christmas and besides she wanted to concentrate on her presentation. It would not happen if she saw them in the audience, clapping and cheering before she could even talk.

She went to them, “I gotta grab my things from Dr. O’s office. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Yeah, ok. I need to use the bathroom.” Phyllis said as she stood up. “Bev, you good here?”

“Actually, I’ll go with you, DeeDee.”

Walking out of the room, DeeDee reminded Phyllis where the first floor bathroom was and they all split once they got to the hallway.

---

Erik entered the building and stood at the top of the hallway. Not much had changed about the old building. He walked over to the directory and looked at the faculty names. He recognized a few of them and ran his hand over Dr. Bell’s name. It showed her office was across the hall from Marquis’. Great.

He started walking down the long hall, when a voice called out to him.

“Excuse me?”

The feminine voice caught his attention. He slowed to a stop.

“Yes, you. Are you lost?" He could hear the click clack of heels, “Maybe I can help you.”

He turned around to see a young woman in a suit approach him.

“Oh no, I’m fine. But thank you.”

“You sure?”

Erik watched as she looked him up and down. He gathered himself, “I’m positive, I’ve been here before.”

“Really? I’m here often and I would have remembered you.” Her voice dropped an octave.

“I bet you would.” He laughed, “Look, I really should be going. My friend is waiting for me in his office.” He looked behind her, “And it looks like someone is looking for you.”

She turned around and saw hands waving dramatically in the air.

“Phyllis, hurry up. It’s gonna start soon.”

“Alright, I’m coming.” She turned back around to look at Erik, “I hope I get to see you again.”

He nodded at her and made his way down the hall. “Not if I can help it,” He mumbled.

Erik knocked on Marquis’ office door. He pitched his voice. “Excuse me, Dr. O.”

“Why are you knocking? Come on in.”

He walked in and Marquis jumped up when he saw him.

“I thought. You know what -- nevermind.” He gave Erik a hug, “How you doing man?”

“I’m good, I’m good.”

“You look it. Still living at the gym when you aren’t at work, I see.”

“I mean, you know. I never again want to look like the stick that shared an award with you.”

They both laughed.

“So, why are you still here on a Friday afternoon? You could be on your break already.”

“I will be. Immediately after this last doctoral defense presentation.”

Erik huffed and pulled out his phone. He hadn’t heard anything from DeeDee yet today. He shook his head and put it away.

“So, those were today?”

“Yup. There is one more and then we can go get drinks before I take you to see the family.”

“Yeah, sure that’s fine.”

Marquis locked up his office and they walked down the hall to the main room.

---

Erik sat in the back row out of the way, while Marquis walked to the front and gathered everyone’s attention. As he looked out ahead of him, he saw the girl from earlier seated on the opposite side from him. She was talking to her friend and kept looking back at him.

“This cannot be good.” He returned his focus to Marquis up front.

“Thank you all for being here all day today. We are ready to start our final defense presentation.” Marquis nodded to a young woman on his left who walked over and took the clicker from him.

When she turned around to address everyone, Erik gasped. It was her. He was looking at DeeDee. She pressed the clicker for her starting slide and began to speak.

Erik took her in while she spoke. She definitely could not hide from him now. DeeDee was dressed in a burgundy and black houndstooth patterned pant suit with a burgundy blouse. It fit her very well, and he could make out her wide hips and the chest that prevented her from closing the blazer. He bit his lip to keep from making an inappropriate sound. Her dark curls were pulled back in a sleek low bun with loose tendrils hanging out. He hadn’t seen those glasses before, but the cat eye shape looked really cute on her.

He tried to fully focus on what she was saying, but was glad that she asked him for advice a few weeks before. He would catch a word or two and know where she was. Erik continued his physical assessment of her while DeeDee’s presentation continued.

DeeDee was much shorter than he thought, but he loved the idea of her looking up at him or having to get on her tiptoes to kiss him. He smiled as her nose scrunched up while she spoke about environmental waste and how her study addressed it. He saw her infamous full cheeked smile when she answered questions from the panel and audience.

When he was done getting his fill of her, he could hear the applause and she sat back down while the panel spoke amongst themselves.

He was so proud of her. She handled herself very well up there. And although he never expected to see her real presentation, he was happy to have been there.

---

Everyone has walked to the front to congratulate DeeDee who was just told that she cleared her defense and that the panel was recommending the certification of her Ph.D.

DeeDee saw Beverly and Phyllis first. They both ran over to her, giving her hugs and praise. She smiled at her two friends.

“Thank you both for being here.”

“We wouldn’t have missed this for the world, hun.” Beverly spoke up for them.

DeeDee pulled away from them and headed over to Dr. O. He was standing next to a man in a nice black suit, who was a few inches taller than him. She tapped Dr. O on the shoulder, he turned back, saw it was DeeDee and gave her a hug. She pulled away and noticed that the gentleman next to him was staring intently at her.

When DeeDee looked over, she saw very familiar short dreads with a shadow fade, a neatly trimmed beard and the same dimples that she had been dreaming about recently. It can’t be.

“Erik?” She breathily asked.

“In the flesh.”

“What are you doing here?”

“You know I came for Dr. Bell’s retirement party.”

“Yeah, but I thought you would be here tomorrow or Sunday. But you are here. At my defense.” She stepped back to look up at him.

“I am and it’s nice to meet you, Dr. Deidre Chabert.” He held his hands out.

She smiled brightly at him and walked forward into his arms. He engulfed her in a big hug.

“Let me take you out to celebrate tonight.” Erik said into her ear. He looked over DeeDee’s head and saw the two women from earlier staring at them.

“I would like that.” She mumbled into his chest.

“Good, go get your things.”

She pulled out of his embrace and stared at her friends who were now behind her. DeeDee slid by them and went to get her things.

“So, how do you know DeeDee?” Beverly asked him cheerfully.

Phyllis just stared at him, arms crossed against her chest. DeeDee bounced back over to everyone with her bags.

“Hey guys, I want you to meet Erik.”

“What? Mr. Note in the textbook? No way.”

“Guilty.” He replied.

“Do you mind if we get together to celebrate later this week or next weekend?”

“Sure sweetie.” Beverly spoke up. “Have fun, but not too much.”

“Yeah, we’ll see you later, Dee.” Phyllis gave her a half hug and stormed past her.

Beverly gave her a hug and walked out after Phyllis.

“I have questions, but I’m gonna wait.” Dr. O turned to DeeDee, “You’re still coming over to go to the Christmas Festival with us tomorrow, right?”

“And miss an opportunity to see my favorite girl. Not a chance. Besides, I don’t think she will forgive me.”

“Great. Well, you two enjoy your evening.” Dr. O daps Erik, “I’ll see you tomorrow as well.”

“Definitely. Goodnight Quis.”

Erik grabbed DeeDee’s things, “You want to leave your car here or drop it off at your place?”

“You can follow me home.”

He extended his arm as they walked out of the room, “Lead the way, Dr. DeeDee.”

“Don’t you start that mess.” She bumped him with her shoulder.

“Would you prefer Dr., Miss or Little?”

“Little?”

With his free hand, he grabbed her hand and intertwined their fingers. “You are much smaller than me.”

“I bet you like that, don’t you?”

“You have no idea how much.” He squeezed her hand.

“Watch it, Mr. Erik.”

“Or what?”

“I don’t know yet, but you will find out.” She returned the squeeze.

Taglist: @teakturn @ghostfacekill-monger @shaekingshitup @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @woahitslucyylu @ladymac82 @bugngiz @eyeknowmywrites @ajspencer1892 @arafatih @issimplyaamazinggg @tchallasbabymama @killmonger-fics @beautifullmelodyxx @raysunshine78 @fd-writes @ljstraightnochaser @just-peachee @kaleidoscopeofsoul

#25 days of christmas challenge #erik killmonger x oc #black panther fanfiction #bp christmas #all i want #thadelightfulone

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firewoodfigs · 3 years

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Hey Friend, I know I'm a bit late with this but how about - "an answer to the prompt ‘fevered forehead kisses’" Thanks. :)

here you go, friend!! this one’s for you and @brucestephenbucky, who both requested an answer to the prompt ‘fevered forehead kisses’ :)

[also, this turned out to be longer than expected (~3k words), so it’s on ao3 as well! for easier reading, all that stuff xD]

Summary: In which Riza is down with a cold, and Roy is both anxious and painfully oblivious. Also, Roy has to conquer his greatest nemesis yet: carrots. (young Royai)

~x~

Riza Hawkeye always woke up by sunrise. This was an immutable fact of life; as unchanging as the fact that the sun would rise every morning from the east. Not once had Roy seen her sleep in — not even on the weekends.

But today was different.

The sun had already risen long ago, and the roosters were back with their awful crowing. And even the morning dew that embraced the paltry patches of yellowing grass outside with timeless regularity was starting to evaporate by now.

Still, Riza was nowhere to be found.

Roy’s first thought was that she’d gone on one of her routine grocery trips. But Riza Hawkeye was the human incarnation of efficiency, if nothing else. Unlike his sisters, who had an uncanny tendency to get distracted by other things along the way (because apparently every girl loved shopping on a biological level, or so they claimed), grocery shopping was something she could easily complete in about a half an hour or less.

And it had been nearly two hours since he’d waited idly by the fireplace for Riza to come in through the front porch with that shy, contented smile that she always wore in the morning.

Believing that this might’ve been a rare, life-changing occasion where Riza wanted to experience the wonders of sleeping in, Roy therefore took it upon himself to prepare breakfast for the both of them. Typically, this wasn’t preferable, as he was only capable of making two things that were remotely edible: toasts, and eggs. (Not even fried eggs. Boiled eggs, because those were impossible to screw up.) To make up for the slightly burnt toast, Roy brewed a sweet, soothing mixture of chamomile tea with cinnamon.

Then he laid everything out on the dining table and hoped for the best.

Fifteen minutes passed. Breakfast was beginning to cool down. The mugs were no longer steaming; in them only a lukewarm stillness that reflected his lonely, worried expression.

Roy bit into the burnt edge of a piece of toast, consulting the grandfather clock down by the inordinately large hallway.

The empty hallway.

Ten-hundred hours.

Roy sighed into his tea. Ten more minutes, he decided. Ten more minutes. If Riza wasn’t down by then, he’d go upstairs and check on her instead.

In the end, Roy found himself dragging his feet up the old, creaky stairs. He balanced the tray delicately on one hand, and knocked at her door gently with the other.

“Miss Riza?” Roy called softly, deciding against dropping the honorific. (Riza might’ve given him permission to call her by her first name, but she still was not taking the liberty of addressing him as such.)

Silence.

Roy knocked again.

The tray wobbled precariously.

“Miss Riza?”

A groan resounded from the other end, before he heard footsteps padding softly towards him. Then the door opened to reveal Riza in all her pale, half-awake glory.

To say that she was a mess was a bit of an understatement. Her hair was uncombed and completely disheveled (very much unlike her usual self); cheeks flushed a deep scarlet — a stark contrast against the sickly pallor of her countenance.

“Mister Mustang,” Riza rasped weakly. But her demeanour was quick to shift once she caught sight of the tray in his hands. Instantly she straightened like a soldier standing at attention, back straight and shoulders tense. “I’m so sorry — what time is it?”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Roy reassured hastily. “It’s about ten —“ Riza’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened like she was about to admonish herself for not getting started on her endless list of chores earlier, “— but don’t worry about it. Are you sick?”

A shiver wracked through her petite frame, one that she tried miserably to conceal by wrapping her thin arms around herself. “I’m not,” Riza lied unconvincingly. “I —“

“Have a lot to do, I know,” Roy interjected, biting back a sigh at her stubbornness. God, the girl really needed to get her priorities straight. “But you’re obviously unwell. And besides, I already made you breakfast. I didn’t do such a bad job, see? I even managed to make you your tea just the way you like it...”

“I — thank you,” she muttered, turning away to sneeze daintily into the crook of her elbow. “But really, it’s just a minor cold. You didn’t have to...” Riza trailed off as another shudder assaulted her.

Roy pursed his lips, somewhat bemused by her insistence (and poor attempts at deceit). He cleared his throat and straightened, imitating the tone that his indomitable sisters used whenever he was trying to wriggle his way out of drinking some weird, medicinal concoction. “It clearly doesn’t sound like a minor cold. You should rest before it gets worse.”

“But...”

“No buts, Miss Riza.”

Roy set the tray down on her bedside table, then strode back to where she was. Gingerly, Roy put a hand on her shoulder. When she didn’t flinch from the contact, he gently guided her back towards her bed. Riza didn’t protest. Instead, she was quick to settle back down, clutching onto her blankets for dear life — as if the short walk to her door had sapped her of all her energy.

“Just rest, okay? I’ll take care of everything else.”

Evidently too weak to argue further, Riza nodded and coughed into a fist. “I’m really sorry for the trouble —“

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he nearly exclaimed, a little frustrated by her self-deprecating logic. In what universe was it someone’s fault for falling sick — something that was not even within one’s realm of control? “Just let me know if you need anything, okay? A doctor, medicine, whatever. It’s what friends do for each other.”

“Friends...” she mumbled, eyes averted — in embarrassment? He couldn’t tell. Despite the remarkable progression in their relationship, Riza Hawkeye was still very much an enigma.

“Friends,” Roy affirmed, fluffing the coverlet a little before leaving hastily, his own heart pounding in his throat.

~x~

Roy spent the rest of the day dusting the window panes, sweeping the carpeted floors and drying the laundry in between studying for his upcoming test. More than once he’d spotted Riza coming down the stairs, meandering around the hallways aimlessly like she was inspecting for non-existent dust under the guise that she was just about to pour herself another glass of water.

Roy was quick to see through her excuses, however, and had ushered her back into her room with a full jug of water instead. Every hour or so, he’d go up to check on Riza, a warm cup of freshly-made ginger tea in his hands (a remedy that his aunt swore by, despite its repulsive taste) and constant reassurances that he was doing just fine with the chores.

When evening-time came around, Riza appeared in the kitchen, eyes bleary and nose pink. Roy withheld the urge to roll his eyes.

How stubborn could one person get? And was there — no, would there ever be a point where she’d come to spare a thought for herself? To put herself ahead of others?

Probably not, he thought wryly.

“I’m a lot better, really,” she sniffed, huddling an old, tattered shawl around her for warmth. (Roy made a mental note to get a new cardigan for her — one that was thicker; more suited for unfortunate days like these. Maybe a pink, fluffy one that matched her secret femininity.) “I should start making dinner.”

Right. He’d completely forgotten about that.

“I can take care of that,” he said. Riza quirked a brow at him, unconvinced. Roy shoved his wounded ego back down his throat and tried again. “Really. I’ll just make up a simple stew for us.”

What could possibly be so hard about throwing a few ingredients into boiling water, right? He’d just have to wait for the ingredients to work their magic. And if they didn’t, then he’d have to trust in the mythical powers of sesame oil and salt to save the day. Or so he’d gleaned from his sisters’ numerous mishaps in the kitchen and Riza’s incredible cooking.

“... Please don’t trouble yourself, Mister Mustang.”

“Nonsense. You’re always troubling yourself for my — for our sakes,” he insisted, guiding her towards the living room. Riza opened her mouth like she was about to protest. And Roy scrambled for a better argument. Something that might work on her desire to avoid causing trouble to others at all costs, perhaps? “Think of it this way. You’ll be - um, it’ll be worse if you pass out in the middle of the kitchen while cooking.”

After a long, contemplative moment, Riza relented and stepped back hesitantly. “Try not to burn anything down.”

This was a remarkable challenge, but Roy Mustang was not one to back down from challenges. Instead he nodded, solemn. “I won’t.”

Riza nodded, settling herself on the old rocking chair by the fireplace for warmth. The evening was remarkably chilly tonight, however, and so Roy tucked his coat securely around her, ever thankful that his reclusive hermit of a teacher did not choose to grace them with his presence at that moment.

Then he scurried back into the kitchen like a mouse and began rifling through the lower compartments of the fridge.

To his dismay, Roy found the following items: corn, cabbage, and carrots. Naturally he despised them all, since they belonged to that vile, disgusting category of food known as vegetables.

But carrots. God, carrots were the worst of them all. Those malicious sticks of bright orange clearly hated him with a deep-seeded passion, and so did he. Things never turned out well whenever he was forced to work with them in the kitchen.

Unless one considered multiple cuts and band-aids ‘well’.

Still, he was determined to make Riza a decent, hearty meal tonight. (Or maybe not ‘hearty’ -- that implied that he was a good cook, which was a little ambitious. More like edible, perhaps.)

Inhaling deeply, Roy rolled up his sleeves and set about to work once he found Riza’s little recipe book. But determination soon melted into frustration after he’d chopped up cobs of corn and sliced potatoes and had to face his greatest adversary in the world: carrots.

And after a lot of groaning and grunting and wheezing, Roy somehow ended up peeling more of his own skin than the carrot’s; a feat he hadn’t even thought possible until now.

… Like he said, they really hated him.

“Damn it,” Roy cursed softly under his breath, not wanting to wake the sleeping blonde. He quickly rinsed them under running water, then rummaged through the cabinets for a box of band-aids.

Torn between mild amusement and self-pity, Roy stuck them over the numerous cuts decorating his poor fingers and sighed.

Well.

Nothing like a few lacerations to prove his gallantry, right?

Still, Riza’s fitful, shuddering frame was all the motivation he needed to conquer the menacing abomination. At least most of them were chopped up by now, even if they looked nothing like the neat wedges that Riza usually managed to cut them into.

But it was all the same in one’s stomach, he reasoned.

Mindful to not set the kitchen ablaze, Roy got back to work and began dumping everything into the pot.

~x~

By some miraculous stroke of luck, the kitchen was still intact about an hour later. Roy popped back into the living room with a wooden tray holding two bowls of vegetable soup, billowing clouds of steam curling around his face.

“Hey,” he called gently. Riza cracked an eyelid open, still semi-conscious. “I made us some soup for dinner. Think you can get up for some?”

“I - oh,” Riza mumbled. Her face fell slightly as she adjusted herself on the seat.

Roy got the nagging feeling that she was about to apologise once more for not helping.

“I mean, it’s not the best, but it tasted… edible,” he cajoled. Barely edible, actually. It’d tasted bland, sort of watery; but Roy had been too afraid to add in more salt or seasoning for fear of screwing the whole thing up entirely.

One could only hope that the cold had muffled her taste buds.

“Thank you,” she said softly. They ate together in companionable silence; metal clinking gently against ceramic as the fire crackled.

Roy resisted the urge to scrunch his face up at the blandness of it all.

Riza, on the other hand, did not appear to have any qualms about the simple fare; she made no comment on his ostensible lack of talent in the kitchen. Instead she flashed him a small, grateful smile that warmed his heart immensely.

“How are you feeling?”

“A little better, I think.” Almost inaudibly, Riza added, “Thank you. For all of this, I mean. I really appreciate it.”

Roy beamed. “It’s no problem. Like I said, you’re always doing so much for our benefit. It’s the least I can do.”

Roy got up to clear the dishes before she could, once they were done with dinner. By this point, however, Riza was clearly too tired to argue. She waited by the fireplace as he rinsed the bowls; a shivering cocoon of blankets and soft sneezes.

And like a panicked mother hen, Roy started fussing. Without warning he helped Riza up, bringing her close so that she could lean on him for support. She was dangerously warm to the touch, he realised. It seemed her fever hadn’t broken yet, and he could feel the goosebumps trailing up her skin as they walked.

“Mister Mustang,” she called feebly, flushing scarlet.

“Hm?” he asked, oblivious to the heat crawling up his own neck.

Gently, he led Riza up the stairs and guided Riza back into her room.

“Are you sure you’re alright? I can go get a doctor or something, if you need…”

It’d be hard to get one at this hour, especially out in the isolated countryside, but the boy was willing to do anything to help his friend feel better.

“N-no. I’ll be better once I get some rest, really,” she said, almost pleadingly as she nestled underneath the inviting coverlets.

Catching sight of her wide and frightened eyes, Roy instantly swallowed his earlier words. “A-alright,” he said worriedly, caught in a bit of a dilemma himself. “I’ll stay with you, then. Just rest, okay?”

Feverish and utterly enervated, Riza offered him a tiny, hesitant nod and drifted back to sleep.

~x~

For the rest of the night, Roy stayed by Riza’s side like he was holding some sort of sad, long vigil, changing the damp towel on her forehead every hour or so. But her fever did not subside. If anything, it only got worse. Delirium was starting to kick in. At some point she’d started muttering imploringly for her — mother?

Roy’s heart shattered.

How many ill, lonely nights had she endured aloneafter her mother’s passing, all because she wanted to avoid inconveniencing her negligent father? Riza was strong, yes, maybe even almost to the point of being invincible. But she was still very much a child. She was only thirteen, for heavens’ sake! Yet the girl always carried herself with an independence and maturity that far exceeded their peers’ — the sort that could only have been derived from hardship and misfortune. And Roy found himself feeling something akin to guilt and sympathy and admiration, for a girl who’d been forced to grow up far too soon because of her predicament.

Overcome by some profound, unknown emotion, Roy leaned forward and brushed her damp, matted fringe aside to press a chaste kiss on her forehead.

“Get well soon,” he murmured.

Riza fidgeted slightly. For a moment, Roy thought she was about to regain consciousness. And all of a sudden he became acutely aware of what he had done: he’d trespassed some unspoken boundary and kissedher.

Roy recoiled sharply like he’d been struck. He leaned back into his seat, running a hand over his scruffy hair and crossed his arms decisively over his chest; an exercise of self-restraint. What was he doing, anyway? Taking advantage of his friend in her sleep?

God forbid he do so! Roy had grown up learning that women were to be treated with utmost respect. The importance of chivalry had been indoctrinated in him from the time he’d learnt how to walk, and he was not about to engage in any sort of funny business. Nope. Definitely not.

(He would be lying, however, if he said Riza wasn’t adorable while she was asleep like that.)

Fortunately for him, Riza was sound asleep. She was still shivering, though, so Roy drew the blankets up and readjusted the towel on her forehead. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she rolled over on her side.

Content that he was able to bring his friend some comfort, Roy lolled back into the seat to take a short nap, not seeming to mind in the least the inevitable stiff neck that awaited him.

Beside him, Riza let out a small smile as she tugged his coat closer around herself.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #young royai #yesss I'm back with my young royai corniness... sorry not sorry...#what about it!!! uwu #also Roy Mustang vs carrots L O L

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