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thequietmanno1 · 1 year

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Thelreads, Vigilantes 81, Replies Part 1

1) “But today I`m full of energy and ready to dunk down Furuhashi once again! This arc is going spectacularly… polarizing, to say the least, but there`s still hope that things can get better for this story, I believe in the me that believes in Vigilantes.”- I do think, if nothing else, that getting Koichi out of his comfort zone and pushing him into the kind of similar situations Izuku’s ben exposed to on a regular basis has done wonders for his effectiveness as a hero on the field- far more than his direct lessons from Knuckle did anyway

2) “And there`s my little boy, looking at the horizon, and the bright flaming ball coming crashing down after the five minutes were up and Endeavor managed to hit Pop.”- He’s not to Izuku’s level, but with his trademark hoodie off, I do notice some muscle definition on his lithe frame there. That self-training really did improve him mentally and physically from the pushover he used to be.

3) “Huh- What?

Is this a flashback? When was this? No, flashbacks have black backgrounds, is this Pop imagining things or something?”- Losing herself in a ‘what-if’ whilst her body’s moving according to her worst impulses and the directions of the parasite inside her skull. 4) “Yeah, absolutely her imagination. It`s not even the fact she`out of school and looking for a job, it`s the fact that Koichi is being sweet to her without his usual accidental jerkniess “- Who knows, maybe he’d dial it back a bit after a few years to mature more and once he’d realised that he does think of Pop as somebody other than a close partner who sticks by his side.

6) “Now Pop certainly has some interesting dreams about them, not exactly together, but still close after all this time, fighting crime while adults. It`s just really hilarious, in a sad way, that she can`t even imagine them dating, even in her dreams she`s just chasing him while he`s oblivious.”- She’s thinking of them as using these vigilante activities as the closest thing to a date they can get, an enjoyable activity to spend time together with and grow closer together before eventually taking it to the next level- though pointedly, I couldn’t help noticing that the narrative skipped straight to the end result without going through the gradual process. Almost like Pop’s mind was too embarrassed to fully plan out all the necessary happenings that would be needed to get there. 7) “IT`S THEM FUCKING TRAINS AGAIN

FUCKING HELL I FORGOT ABOUT THEM”- Who could forget the pain trains and their current boom in business, both here and in MHA? 8) “BABY POPICHI

TWO OF THEM

WHAT THE FUCK”- It’s interesting how her imagined scenario focuses more on how her theoretical daughter would be growing up rather than her son with Koichi- almost like Pop isn’t exactly certain of how to relate to a kid that had more in common with Koichi than herself. 9) “WHAT IS GOING ON

IS POP REALLY DREAMING ALL OF THIS WHILE SHIT`S GOING ON?

WHAT, IS THE NEXT ONE GONNA BE THEM OLD PLAYING WITH THEIR GRANDKIDS?”- Sadly, they don’t quite get that old – likely because Pop’s mentality can’t keep this ‘safe daydream’ going much longer, keeping the sweet and nice parts of herself intentionally blind to the damage she’s doing. Unlike Tomura, who embraces his villainy, I get the sense that part of Pop is deeply ashamed of what she’s done so far, but knows it’s too late to turn back, so she doesn’t truly fight the parasite’s commands and instead mentally averts her gaze and distracts herself with thoughts of what could have been. 10) “So, in her dreams, although Pop never got to achieve her dreams she still had a daughter that decided to follow down the same path, interesting. Also, you haven`t changed one bit Koichi, what`s your skincare? Tell me”- It’s almost like Pop can’t truly imagine an older Koichi being much different from who he is now, effectively still the same person, but just slightly older-looking. 11) “Now, for real, what is the actual situation? Because Tamao had memories of her past, but it was like another completely different person, I don`t actually remember if it was ever implied it was still her and the parasite just made her evil, the one moment where it seems like her real self was coming to surface was during the fight with knuckles, when more of her frustration with her dad in the past suddenly showed up, but that seemed like an extreme moment when a geyser erupted, Pop just seems to be herself but evil all the time.

Like, that phrase she gave would`ve been fucking amazing, if this all wasn`t just a brainwashing parasite and it was instead really her decision to do this.”- It seems to be all mixed-up and confused inside Pop’s head as it is the narrative, but the most I can make out is that she was fully controlled to bring out her worst side by the parasite during the prior outing, and now, with whatever different formula Nomura’s had injected into her for this show, she’s got more self-awareness and regrets about her situation, but likewise believes she’s too far gone anymore? It could be a means of getting her to ‘express her real feelings more’, as I sorta got the impression that in his own twisted mind, Nomura actually does think he’s doing Pop a favour by forcing her into this role, so she can stop holding herself back and let it all out.

12) “I hope you are eclectic Koichi, you`re about to get into a whole different genre of music, a rather painful one I`d say.”- He’s gotta match her rhythm to get closer to her, both physically and emotionally. Good thing he’s been training up his dance moves. @thelreads

#bnha vigilantes #bnha #my hero academia #thelreads #chapter replies #vigilantes 81

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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[SUBMISSION FIC] changing tides. (childe x gn.reader)

summary: up until a short while ago, it seemed that you hated childe, just like a lot of people do. but now? now that doesn’t quite seem the case anymore. and childe doesn’t necessarily know what to make of it.

potential warnings: enemies to lovers (? if that’s really not your thing, though this is firmly in the “to lovers” range)

word count: ~2k. god

HELLO ALL, wrote a fic bc i got emo abt not pulling childe yet,,,,,, i hate him but i love him,,,,,, this was originally written with an oc of mine in mind but i’ve since changed it for a reader insert since i think that fits just as well. first time writing for childe in this manner, so if characterisation is off, don’t blame axia i swear to god. and to axia - bless u for letting me submit this kjshfkjsd. hope everyone enjoys wheeeee

———

something’s bothering childe about your closeness, and he hates that he just can’t seem to mask it as well as he can with others. for some time now, the two of you have been at this back-and-forth sort of rivalry, where he teases and pokes and pushes, and you snarl at him to quit the shit unless he wants to get his lights knocked out. he’s certain you just hate him, and there’s something to that that just thrills him. hell, even when the two of you fight physically, trading blows in a spar that started just because he got on your nerves just a little too much, he’s still grinning the whole time. to an extent, he’s used to your hatred, maybe even revels in it, and there’s something with you that he just can’t keep away from. but even when he teases, he doesn’t get the same response back anymore. scathing glares and sneers have been handed in for only narrowed glances and pursed lips - loathing for just annoyance. even then, it feels off-kilter in a way. surely you’re not just… getting bored of him, are you? it troubles him. and that troubled feeling is precisely how he finds himself here.

he’s invited himself over to your house once more, barging in without knocking even, but not once do you demand to know why he’s found fit to enter without asking. he’s louder than normal as he drapes himself across the back of the couch as dramatically as possible, turning that obnoxiousness dial of his as high as it can go, all in hopes that you’ll try to kick him out or grab your blade and demand he meet you outside… but there’s nothing. you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, you snicker and groan at his antics and wave him off with a dismissive shake of your head, but he just can’t get to you like he used to. with a huff, he plops down heavily in the chair next to yours in your living room while you take care of some papers for work. again, you send him that sideways glance and a raised eyebrow, and he waits for even a vaguely scathing comment. he hears you hum, amused (amused???), but you make no other comment as your gaze returns to your paperwork. he has to try so hard not to visibly roll his eyes, and settles instead for propping his chin up onto his palm and giving a long, drawn-out sigh as he pouts in the direction of your living room window. then, finally, he hears you sigh in turn and put both pen and paper down, and he has to fight back a smile when he sees you turn to him out of the corner of his eye. you lean in close, and he waits for his long-overdue reprimand. but no. even still, even now, you just stare at him, eyes narrowed as you lean forward. he glances your way too, nonchalant (though perhaps not entirely), and he hopes you can see that challenging glint in his eye, that you’ll rise up to it. you frown, and give a quiet huff. “okay, fine,” you tell him, almost exasperated, “I’ll bite. what’s wrong, childe?” he shrugs, moving his gaze to stare out the window once more as he gives his own dismissive sigh. “nothing,” he says simply, and this time doesn’t stop the shit-eating grin from creeping across his face. he hopes it bugs you. “nothing at all.” you purse your lips again, and lean ever closer, until you’re sitting on the edge of your own seat. you reach out to him, and he, like the fool he is, gets his hopes up for but a moment before you subvert all his expectations and grab his hand instead. carefully, you pry it out from under where his chin was resting, forcing him (intentionally or not) to sit up straight again and you clutch his palm in both of yours. your grip is tight, insistent, but it doesn’t hurt. it’s an odd feeling coming from someone like you, and he doesn’t know quite what to make of it. the thought makes something churn in his stomach. “you can be a real awful liar sometimes, you know that?” you tell him; there’s a teasing edge to your voice, but it doesn’t cut into him, doesn’t do damage in the way he wants it to. he pouts again, and you frown right back. “see, there it is again. something is wrong.” he gives a short huff, and turns his gaze even further from you. “it’s… fine. really, it’s nothing,” he responds, deadpan. it’ll *have* to be fine, since you’re clearly no longer interested in him in the way you used to be. that’s fine. but then, you surprise him again - gently, even uncharacteristically so, your hand comes up to cup his cheek. childe almost flinches at the softness and genuine emotion behind the action, so thoroughly unused to the feeling of it (especially from you), but he holds it back as he turns his gaze back to stare at you, eyes carefully neutral. you frown then, and shift from your position in next him with a low, disappointed hum. his own eyebrows raise ever so slightly as you lean forward out of your seat and swing a leg over onto his lap so that you’re straddling him (still gently, he notes with some degree of frustration). your other hand, now letting go of where it held his, comes up to match its other, dragging fingers softly, sweetly, up the side of his neck til it meets the other cheek too. you tilt your head a few degrees the other way as you scrutinise him. “baby,” you murmur then, almost pleading, brow scrunched ever so slightly in what *has* to be concern. “ajax, sweetheart, talk to me.” he has to shut his eyes then as some new emotion washes over him like the tide onto the shore. he feels your thumb sweep over his cheekbone, and try as he might he can’t help but to lean into it with a quietly resigned sigh. it feels… nice. comforting. genuine. the last one twists his lungs ever more. “thought you said you hated me, hm?” he says in a low voice, unwilling to disturb the energy in the room with anything more playful like he’d normally say. he hopes the lump in his throat isn’t as audible as he thinks it is. “I seem to remember you making all of that quite clear to me before.” he can almost hear your eyes narrow and your forehead scrunch in confusion, though he’s still not opening his eyes to check (the one time he’ll indulge in cowardice). but soon enough, you sigh, and squeeze his face ever so slightly. “…not for a while now, though.” you pause. “and in any case, weren’t you supposed to be the observant one? thought you’d have noticed by now anyway.” he raises a single eyebrow at that, and opens one eye to catch a glimpse of your expression. your eyes are narrowed, still in concern (he thinks, though hopes not), but he can still see that spark of amusement twinkling deeper. your smile is small, soft, teasing as it pulls back even further watching him. he opens both his eyes then, rolling them as he sighs dramatically (pushing away that discomfort, that writhing feeling in his stomach, anything to get back to normal). he even brings the back of a hand to his forehead as he all but wails, “what a shame! and here I thought I found someone worthy of a strong rivalry with yours truly! what a shame that I really can conquer them all.” he sighs again, trading that neutral look for his signature grin. (what a shame that you’ve already conquered him so wholly.) you roll your eyes in turn, still not letting go of his face at all as you lean in closer. that amused spark grows brighter. “conquered? oh honey–” (that word again, normally dripping with contempt, oozes nothing but teasing love, and his stomach flips again) “–if you think even for a moment that just because I like you as much as I do you’ve won anything by default, then maybe you haven’t been paying attention.” childe opens his mouth to respond, another lighthearted quip on the tip of his tongue, but suddenly you react, eyes shooting wide as your hold on his face tenses so briefly. “wait, no, stop that! you’re dodging my question!” your eyes narrow again, back to concern and careful analysis. one hand lifts from his cheek and comes to rest against his shoulder. “what’s wrong, really? you’re so out of it, I’ve never seen you this uncomfortable.” (damn, he thought he’d been hiding it well enough.) “is it something I’ve done?” “no!” he blurts out, hating how quick the response is and how he can feel his face heat up at realising that. “i– no, just… I guess I didn’t expect such a… positive reaction to me bugging you as much as I’ve been trying to,” he finally confesses as he moves his gaze to the wall next to the both of you. it could use with some decorating, he thinks. “least of all from you, maybe.” the last part is much quieter, so much that even he has to almost strain to hear it. you hum in lieu of a response. instead, you lean in closer, yet closer, until your lips find his own. it’s slow, so slow he might have mistaken it once for hesitation if he didn’t know you any better, but when he tries to push back into the touch, you pull away just as much; your hands, on his face and his shoulder, press back and insist he stay put. you can’t stop his hands from dragging up along your thighs, however, to the edge of your hips, gripping just below the waist and squeezing where he can; he needs to ground himself, against this wave, this tsunami, of conflicting emotion. you pull away completely then, eyes lidded not with desire or annoyance like he’s used to seeing, but something else. “listen,” you implore, voice low and honeyed, “I didn’t particularly enjoy the realisation I genuinely liked you either. really, I mean it, you bastard!” you swat his arm when he chuckles at you. “but I love you. celestia knows I love you. I’ll not shy away from that, unless you’re really, genuinely discomforted by that.” you scrutinise him again as you glance over the space between you. “it’s new to me, at least. I know what this–” you gesture loosely between the both of you, “–was like before, and I know it’s different. however…” once more your hand matches its pair by coming up to rest on his face, though this time sliding further back to thread fingers into his hair. it’s nice, he thinks. “…i want to give it a try if you do.” he swallows the lump in his throat, or at least tries to. “say that again,” he demands, though it comes out weaker than he’d like. damn, his voice is still thick. you raise one brow. “this is new but I’ll give it a try?” “before that.” “I’ll stop if you’re uncomfortable?” “bit more.” “…ah,” you murmur simply. you let out a small chuckle then, before leaning in once more. your lips brush his ever so gently and he loves it. “I love you,” you whisper to him. like a secret meant only for him. he grips your hips tighter, pulls you closer to him, and he smiles back to you. “that’s the one,” he answers simply. he kisses you back yet again, and for some reason, it feels like a first, all over again.

#JSDKAKKASDKJAS THIS IS SO CUTE OMG OMG OMGKDSFSJDKJASKJJKASJKASKS #im IN LOVE WITH THIS #THANK U FOR THE SUBMISSION !!!!#childe x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #childe #submission fic #AAAAAAAAA THIS IS SO CUTE!!! SOFT CHILDE SOFT CHILDE #submission

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babybluebex · 3 years

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desperate hearts (and bodies) [sebastian stan] NSFW!!

➽ pairing: sebastian stan x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 2.5k ➽ summary: while watching his new movie, sebastian makes a deal with you: you’ll watch the movie until the credits roll, or else. ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. explicit language, smut, fingering (f!receiving), teasing, slight dom!seb ➽ a/n: i have no logical explanation for this, so just have it lol

It took a lot of convincing to have Sebastian watch one of his movies. He hated seeing himself work and, ever the perfectionist, found apparent flaws in his performance that neither the director nor editors had “managed” to find. He was against it at first, but, when I told him that I was too scared to watch his new movie The Covenant alone, he agreed. This man was such a pushover. We had known each other since high school when we paired together as scene partners for our school’s drama department. Seb was a senior when I was a freshman and we always got along, albeit at a casual distance. It wasn’t until we were in college together and I was randomly assigned him as a student mentor that we grew close, eventually kissing and fucking and revealing our long-boiling feelings.

We had been together for nearly two years by this point, and I had seen him through every single professional role. When we reunited, he had just had a small role on Law and Order, and he had only gone up from there. The Covenant was the first horror-type movie he had ever done, and I had gotten a basic-enough synopsis from him for me to avoid it. However, being the dutiful girlfriend that I was, I wanted to support him and watch it, and that’s where the begging came in.

Sebastian was a pushover. One hell of a pushover. I usually had to pout and he gave in to me, but watching his own movie came at a larger price, not that I minded it. As we sat down to watch the movie, my knees still ached from our earlier “negotiation”, and Sebastian grabbed my legs and hauled them into his lap. He clicked his tongue a few times, then said, “Baby girl, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” I shrugged, but winced when he pressed a finger into the red patches.

“Right,” he said with a smile. “And I’m the Queen of England.”

“Put on the movie, would ya?” I chuckled. “Shut your mouth.”

“You love my mouth,” Sebastian teased, tickling my thighs, and I sighed.

“I do, but it’s annoying sometimes,” I said, and I kissed my finger and pressed it to his bottom lip. “Movie. Please?”

The moment he came on screen, I felt a familiar heat in my stomach. He was a piece of shit high school guy in this movie, but he was so insanely hot. The female characters were falling all over him, but I would be lying if I said that I didn’t share the affection. “Aww, look at you,” I cooed, leaning over to tickle his chin. “Little teenage dirtbag Seba.”

“Is this why you wanted to watch this?” Sebastian laughed, smacking my hands away. “To make fun of me the whole time?”

“No,” I said. “I want to support you, damn it. I just have the privilege of making fun of you.”

Sebastian sighed, playing shaking his head, and he whispered, “You’re gonna kill me, woman.”

“I sure hope not,” I said, turning my attention back to the screen for a moment. “But it looks like Pogue might. What the hell kinda name is Pogue anyway?”

“I wish I knew,” Sebastian shrugged. “Oh, she was nice, though,” he added, pointing at the blonde girl on screen. “Really sweet. Said you were pretty.”

“You showed her a picture of me?” I asked.

“Well, not intentionally,” Sebastian said. “I was using a Polaroid of you as a bookmark and she handed me my book at one point in the makeup trailer and asked and… You know I love talking about you. I had to indulge her.”

“You keep getting better everyday,” I told him with a smile.

“You too, baby girl,” he said. “I’m getting a beer. You want one?”

“Nah,” I said. “But if it comes with a tall Romanian, I might have to rethink that.”

“Two beers, coming up,” Sebastian said, sitting up to go. Before he fully stood up, though, he tugged me close and kissed me slowly. His kisses were to die for, and I would never grow tired of them. His tongue dipped into my mouth and his hand began to inch my shirt up, but I grabbed his wrist quickly.

“Stop trying to distract me, Seb,” I whispered, biting his plush bottom lip. “We’re watching this movie.”

“Fuck,” Sebastian hissed, and I released his lip. “Thought I had you there.”

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” I told him as he stood up. I watched him as he walked to the kitchen, pulling his jeans back up his hips, and I couldn’t help but admire his ass. Even in high school, Sebastian had a nice body, and it had only gotten better with age and time. I turned my attention back to the movie, and Sebastian quickly returned with our drinks. I took a sip of mine before settling fully into his lap, and his arms went around my waist. “Okay, hold on, I’m confused,” I said quickly. “So those four guys are, like, witches? Wizards? Can guys be witches? Anyway, there’s four of them, but they sense a disturbance in the Force?”

Sebastian laughed deep in his chest. “I mean, pretty much,” he said. “You’ve got it.”

“Chase is the fifth power,” I said quickly. “I’m calling it right now.”

“Woah, hold on, what makes you think I’m the bad guy?” Sebastian asked with a quirk of his lips.

“I just know, man,” I said, taking another drink. “I know how these movies work, and you’re super hot-- more than the leads, actually-- and you’re a new guy. The bigger twist would be if he isn’t the fifth power.”

Sebastian hummed for a moment, then he sighed and mumbled, “Fuck me, you’re good at this.”

I gave a victory laugh and kissed his cheek, and he sucked his teeth in fake annoyance. “You’re way too smart for this, I’m never watching any movies with you again,” Sebastian grumbled.

“Aww, Seba, don’t be like that,” I pouted. “I still wanna watch this.”

“Fuck!” Sebastian huffed and threw his arms in defeat. “What do I have to do to turn this movie off?”

“You said that I’d have to suck your dick and we’d watch this movie,” I began. “And I did, and I did it good. So, we are watching the movie until the goddamn credits roll.”

“Mmhmm,” Sebastian grumbled, drinking his beer. “Alright then. Until the credits roll.”

Sebastian put his drink down a few minutes later, his hands slotting between my thighs. His hands were always freezing and it was a usual thing for him to warm his hands on some part of me; sometimes, it was under my arm or on my tits. Today, it seemed, was between my thighs. His thumb stroked my skin in slow and languid motions, and, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was innocent. He gave a sigh from his plump, pink lips, and he leaned his head on my shoulder, his eyes stuck to the TV screen. My fingers threaded through his hair absently as I watched Chase and the other witches go about their high school antics, and a familiar pressure grew between my thighs when the camera moved into a locker room. Sebastian was there, his shirt undone and his tie hanging loosely around his neck, and I gave a small gasp.

“Everything alright?” Sebastian whispered in my ear, giving it a delicate kiss. “You seem a little shaken up.”

“I’m good,” I replied. “Just… Your hands are fucking cold, man.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian chuckled. “It’s a curse, baby girl. But you seem… I don’t wanna say it because I don’t think you deserve the satisfaction, but… Are you turned on?”

I shrugged. It was embarrassing as hell that I was turned on by Sebastian in a movie, especially when I was sitting in his lap. “You know I love your abs,” I mumbled, picking at the label on my beer bottle.

“So that’s a yes?” Sebastian hummed. He leaned in and kissed my neck, his thumb moving just a bit higher up my thigh. “Just the sight of me gets you all hot, huh? I don’t even have to be doing anything.”

“Seb--” I began, but his lips attached to the spot on my neck that we both knew was my weakness. He gave it a few gentle nips with his front teeth, then soothed the sting with his tongue, and I clenched my teeth together to control my noises. His hand went higher and higher still until it reached the hem of my panties, and he slowly pushed his fingers into it. He was quiet and gentle as his hand moved, continuing to kiss my sweet spot as his palm pressed against my heat. The heel of his hand was right against my clit, just barely making enough contact, and I wriggled helplessly to get him where I wanted him.

“Watch the movie, baby girl,” Sebastian whispered, his voice low and rumbling. “You’ll miss something important.”

I groaned softly. “Sebastian,” I mumbled. “Please, love--”

“Please what?” Sebastian whispered. “What do you want, baby girl?”

“Touch me,” I panted softly. “Please.”

“You said we were going to watch this movie until the credits roll,” Sebastian said slowly. “I’ve already seen it-- fuck, I’m one of the leads--” My legs tightened at his words, trapping his hand against my wet heat, and he laughed. “So, you’re gonna watch this movie. The entire thing. And you’re not gonna worry about what I’m doing. Alright?”

I nodded, fixing my gaze on the screen once more. I didn’t expect him to push on as quickly as he did, but he ground his hand against my sensitive clit almost the moment I agreed. I gasped in surprise and I felt Sebastian smile against my neck as he continued to kiss my weakest spot, and he whispered, “Goddamn, baby. So wet for me.”

His fingers nudged me open and the tip of his middle finger began to press into me. He was moving just too slow and it was annoying the hell out of me, and I lifted my hips to have his finger in deep. “Oh, no,” Sebastian whispered, his voice a low rumble. “Don’t do that. Just relax, baby.”

“Seb--” I whined hopelessly. I knew that, no matter how much I begged, he was ultimately going to do what he wanted. He was an ass that way. “Please, babe.”

“Please what?” Sebastian said, dragging his teeth along my neck.

“More,” I whimpered. I was so fucking pathetic, but Sebastian just did something to me. No matter what, he could break me down to a crying, begging mess of a girl.

“More?” Sebastian repeated. “Like this?” He added his ring finger with excruciatingly slow speed, and his thumb came to rest on my clit at the same time. My thighs quivered at the feel of his cool rings on my wet and tender skin, and I whined high in my throat. “Oh, so good, baby girl. Taking my fingers like this, such a good little whore.”

For a moment, I dared to look away from the television in favor of my boyfriend, and I found his steel-blue eyes locked on my face. A single dark eyebrow quirked, and he said, “You just can’t follow rules, can you?” Then, seeing my flushed face and bitten lips, clicked his tongue and cooed. “Aw. Want me to fuck you stupid, baby? Doesn’t seem like that’ll take too long.”

“Seb,” I breathed. “Just…” I flexed my hips, hoping that he understood, and he gave me a devilish smile.

“This is the good part,” Sebastian whispered in my ear, and his fingers began a slow and steady pace. “Watch it, baby girl.”

My entire body was burning hot, and I squirmed in Sebastian’s arms. He was on screen, his eyes tinted fully black as he pinned one of the boys to the floor, and I felt a spasm of lightening in my stomach when his fingers finally found that spot inside of me. I jostled in his lap and bit back my moan, and he gave a little huff. “How bad do you want it?” He whispered. “Bad enough to beg for it?”

“Yes,” I sobbed. “Please, Seb, please, fuck me. I need you so bad, please, please, Seb.”

Sebastian groaned deep in his chest, and his mouth latched onto my neck. He sucked at the sensitive skin, surely leaving a mark, and he dragged his fingers in and out of my wet heat. “Look at that,” Sebastian whispered as Chase landed a kiss on his opponent’s cheek. “I am the bad guy. You were right. How are you so fucking smart, baby?”

“I know you,” I said, my cheeks burning with his praise. “You wouldn’t play a good guy.”

“Ah,” Sebastian sighed. “I knew you were smart. Now, be a good girl for me and come all over my fingers. I know how bad you want to. Maybe, if you keep being so good for me…” His lips brushed my ear before he gave me a soft kiss on my hot cheek. “I’ll let you come on my cock later.”

Sebastian’s thumb made fast circles around my throbbing clit as I tried to do as he told me and watch the movie, but I was completely distracted. I could feel his hard cock through his jeans, and the thought of having him fuck me while his movie played was enough for me to shout “Seb!” and make a mess on his fingers. My thighs trembled as Sebastian shushed me comfortingly, and he pushed my hair aside and cradled my face in his free hand. “Oh, good girl,” he whispered softly. “So, so good for me, baby. Are you feeling better now?”

I nodded and swallowed thickly, my throat dry and tight. Sebastian brushed his lips against mine warmly, and he finally pulled his fingers from my throbbing cunt. The room was dark, only the television giving any light, but I still saw his fingers glistening in the light. He handed me his beer with his free hand and, before I could say anything, popped his fingers in his mouth. I watched him for a moment before taking a drink; even though the beer was a little warm, it helped soothe my throat. “Thanks,” I said softly.

“Mm,” Sebastian hummed around his fingers, then pulled them out. “For what, baby? You know I like making you feel good.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I just always like to thank you.”

“No need for that,” Sebastian said. “I know you appreciate it.” There was a pause, and then he groaned. “Fuck, c’mon! You guessed the twist in the first ten minutes!”

“It’s--!” I started. “It’s a PG-13 horror movie! These things are formulaic! You-- You aggravate me. Good thing you’re cute.”

“Or what?” Sebastian laughed. “You’d dump me?”

“Maybe not dump you,” I shrugged. “But I certainly wouldn’t let you fingerblast me while we watched a movie.”

Sebastian laughed, his eyes crinkling up, and he said, “God, you act like there wasn’t any romance.”

I scoffed. “Was there?”

“Oh, baby girl,” Sebastian chuckled. He pulled me back into his lap, my thighs straddling his waist, and he kissed me hard, his tongue dipping into my mouth. “I’ll show you fucking romantic I can be.”

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fic

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lord-explosion-baku · 4 years

Text

Lying Is A Formal Pleasure

Yandere!Hawks x Pro Hero!Reader

Forced into a “relationship” to better your image, you agonize through the night as you pretend to be head over you heels in love with a douchebag.

warnings: non consensual touching, light violence

A/N: I posted this a few months ago, but after a bad mental health night, I deleted it like a day later. But now I’m screaming over my oneshot inactivity and the 80 WIPs that remain unfinished, so I figured I’d post something that’s done fhjfv. :’D

Blinking flashbulbs and whispering onlookers flood your audio and visual spaces, forcing you to pause while you take a moment to gather yourself, swaying uneasily in the too-high heels you’ve been forced into. You’re close to being overwhelmed when Hawks places a smooth hand on the small of your exposed back, ushering you closer to his side. He waves to a camera flickering with a red dot, the one that tells the two of you that you’re live on air. The warm impression of his fingers on your skin offers you an insincere sense of security. You’re not as used to being on screen as your ‘lover,’ so you let him take the lead. It’s easier this way, as resentful as you are to admit it.

A thin woman in a red dress holds a microphone up between the two of you and asks if the happy couple has high hopes in regards to their award nominations. Hawks, always quick to flash a charming grin, leans into the mic and says, “we’re both just very honored to be here.”

It’s not like him to be so humble, especially not when he has an audience, but your publicist recently advised you that although his pride is fitting for his singular image, nobody quite likes a power couple who, in her words, “thinks they’re the shit.” People want to see bashful, blossoming love. They want to see you be together, grow together, and develop together. You have to be shy—show that you’re excited to be by his side, and he has to be supportive—happy to introduce you to the sensational side of being a hero. It’s all a facade, even your relationship, but if you stay true to your new role, your popularity will see a serious incline.

Hawks runs his hand up your spine and you get a chill when you realize that the reporter asked you a question: how long have the two of you been together?

“Oh-” you start, shifting to look up at your partner. Amber eyes bare down on you and you swallow dryly, trusting that you look enchanted, rather than sick to your stomach. If you were to be honest with her, you’d say, ‘too long,’ but it’s not your job to be honest tonight. You have to be delightful and charming, cute and coy. So instead, you timidly blink up at Hawks, cover your shy grin with your elegantly gloved hand while leaning into him, and say, “nearly two months.”

The number two hero chuckles, moving his hand over to your side to squeeze it a little harder than necessary. He’s telling you one thing: wrong answer.

“Well, she says two months, while I say three.” Hawks is all confidence and little to no self-doubt. In a way, he’s everything you want to be, and every time you think about it in that light, the more you seem to detest him. You hate that you virtually need him in this respect to get you where you want to be in your career. You hate that he’s living this farce up. “It took my little angel a while to finally agree to go on a date with me. Even then, I knew that we were meant to be together.” His eyes slide back to you, and his tone takes a dark edge that nobody besides you will be able to pick up on. “From the very first moment I laid my eyes on her.”

It’s not entirely a lie. Hawks had barrated you to go out with him for about a month before your publicist told you it would be good for your public image to have a pro—the number two pro—by your side. Apparently, you and him work well because of your quirk: siren. Her reasoning is that you sing just like birds sing. Hawks is a bird. Therefore, you and him should go hand-in-hand. The public aptly named your relationship birdsong and you’ve already done a photoshoot where you had to pose behind a golden birdcage where Hawks sat inside, gripping onto the cage’s bars, staring up at you while you had your lips pursed subtly, pantamiming a song. The irony of your situation is that there is a metaphorical prison in your fake relationship, but it’s not Hawks who sits in the cage. The second irony of your situation is that hawks don’t sing at all; they prey.

“Awwww,” the reporter whines in a shrill, albeit melodramatic voice, looking adoringly from you to Hawks, “I couldn’t imagine how anybody could ever say no to you! That must’ve put a damper on your ego! Poor thing.”

Hawks shrugs like he does—another thing you despise. You can smell the smugness wafting off his chest that seems to puff up as he speaks. “I knew she was just playing hard to get.” He winks at you, sliding his hand down to sit not so obediently at your hip. You feel him drifting towards your ass cheek, and you struggle to not change your fraudulent smile into a full on sneer. “And she knew I liked the challenge.”

The reporter’s eyes aren’t even on you when she asks, “really, how could you say no to this dreamboat? I certainly wouldn’t be able to!”

If you want him, you can take him, you think tartly as you maneuver your arm around Hawks. He makes a sort of low, sort of grunting noise when you lace your fingers through his heavy feathers, and you realize that this might be the first time you’ve actually touched his wings. You’re bitter to admit that the feel of them in your hands are soft to the touch—enjoyable, almost. They might be the most redeeming thing about him.

You tighten your hand into a fist and tug, softly at first, but when you feel him tense next to you, you pull a little tighter, enjoying the brief sadism break you allow yourself.

“I must have been too darn shy at first!” Your words are syrup dribbling over glass. You wrench your hand, twisting into Hawks’ wings. He clears his throat in an attempt to cover up a groan, his hold on your side worsening infinitesimally. “Or maybe I just couldn’t believe that the number two hero was actually interested in me. Honestly? I was starstruck! I thought I was being used for some kind of joke!”

“Hah…” Hawks’ thumb rubs circles in your back when you guide your hand along the stream of his wings and grab at a different bunch of feathers. He whispers, “take it easy, chickadee…’

But you don’t want to take it easy. Hawks’ cheeks redden a bit more every time you move your fingers through his wings. He must be incredibly uncomfortable and you take pride in the fact that, for once, it’s not you who’s suffering. You lean into his shoulder, offer the reporter woman a smile so sickly sweet, you can practically feel sugar coating your gums when you say, “now every day I get to spend with him is a dream come true!!”

One of Hawks’ eyes twitches when you give the tuft of feathers in your hold a final twist. He spreads his palms wide on your back, and slowly curls his fingers inward, pulling on your skin.

After a few more questions, the reporter notices Hawks glancing down to the large hall being used as the ceremony venue, and thanks the both of you for indulging the public with information about your relationship. Sending a final wink to the camera, Hawks guides you through arched doors and nods at a few other well-known heroes attending the ceremony. You sneak away when you think Hawks is about to get lost in another conversation, but when you slip into an empty lounge reserved for award nominees, he’s right on your heels.

Ignoring his presence completely, you fix yourself a drink at an unattended minibar. You swirl the ice around in your glass and finally turn to scowl at your partner. He looks off, or not very present, still smirking, but dazed. Maybe he tied his tie too tightly, and he’s blocking the blood flow to his brain. You grin at the thought of choking him out while you sip on your beverage. Hawks grins back.

Engulfing and consuming the space around you, he takes a confident step towards you. You feel nothing short of a shadow to a tree with his wings puffed out and spread proudly like they are.

“Nervous?” He asks, placing a hand on the bar as he leans closer to you. You give him a half-hearted shrug, trying to be nonchalant. Even if Hawks knows you're uncomfortable, you aren’t willing to show him an inch of fear.

“You shouldn’t be,” he goes on, staring at your lips. He watches you suck down your drink and clears his throat. “You were great out there.”

“Believable?” You ask sarcastically, licking your bottom lip. You reach out to stroke the inside of his wings, running your hands along his feathers teasingly slow, enjoying the sight of each row of his crimson plume twitch down along with your touch.

“Believable,” he chuckles. “I had no idea that I was your dream come true.”

You scoff and place your empty glass down. “Mhm, my everlasting, waking nightmare.” You bring your arm back to your hip. “I’m truthful when I can be.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up into a goofy half-grin. It’s off-putting. He isn’t any less sharp than usual, but there’s something about him right now that has goosebumps raising on your arms.

“C’mere,” he coaxes, grabbing your wrist. You snap it back immediately.

“Oh, please.” You push past him, intentionally brushing into his wings, and begin strutting away.

“You’re such a goddamn tease,” he rasps, hooking you sideways. Both of his hands curl around your hips, and you’re immediately pulled back against him. “Have I ever told you how sexy your back is?”

“Get off of me,” you say without enthusiasm, because it’s not the first time he’s gotten handsy with you in closed spaces. Call yourself jaded, but it’s something that you’re semi-used to. So, when he doesn’t let up, all you can do is roll your eyes and fetch your compact mirror out of your clutch. While you fix your lips, Hawks lays his chin on your shoulder. His eyes find yours, and though they’re looking straight at you, they are, at once, incredibly ambiguous and eerily hyperfocused. He squeezes his arms around your torso, then brushes his lips across your cheek. Against your stubborn will, your stomach flips when he plants kisses on your jaw and trails down to your neck. The scruff of his beard tickles your skin, making your shift around in his embrace. That's when you feel a stiffening behind you.

“Hawks, what the hell are you doing?”

“Shame on you-“ his breath is hot on your ear- “touching me like that on camera, baby? Who knew my angel could be so naughty…”

You jerk your elbow back into his gut.

“I never touched you,” you seethe, ready to actually throw hands, when he rushes you forward, pushing you against the bar so that you’re lodged between it and him. Hot blood floods your face when you feel him pulse against your ass, and it doesn’t help when he snakes a hand through the back opening of your dress, sliding around to cup your stomach. He pulls you back so his bulge rubs between your cheeks.

“You’re seriously crossing the line right now!” You push against the bar, trying to bump him back, but he crowds you with his wings, shrouding you just like the metaphorical birdcage you’ve been stuck in for two—three months. You grasp a fistful of his feathers and yank on them hard, but he only snickers in response.

“Oh, little dove,” he groans, rocking his pelvis against your ass. It’s like he doesn’t even hear your protests. “Fuck. How’d you know I like it rough?” He kisses the hollow of your throat and hums appreciatively when you reluctantly shudder in response. “You have no idea how badly I wanna slip my cock into you right now. Finally wipe that sour look off your face as I drive myself in, inch by inch.” His fingers move down to pet your pubic bone. You want to scream in defiance when you feel a flash of liquid heat pool between your thighs. He dips in between your folds and he croons. “Bet you’d hug me nice and tight too. You don’t spread your legs for just anybody, do you babygirl?”

“Certainly not for you,” you rebuke. You grasp your abandoned glass, smash it against the bar, and spin yourself around, swiping your makeshift weapon across the number two hero’s face.

There’s a moment of shocked silence that falls between you two. A streak of red falls from the cut on Hawks’ cheeks and falls in spots on the whites in between his tuxedo coat. He dabs at the wound and examines the blood on his fingers, then his chest.

He snickers.

“Oh man, I wonder what they’ll think about this.” He shakes his head, grinning. “What do I tell ‘em: we were getting a little too frisky in the lounge, or do I lie and say it was an accident?”

“You can tell whoever, whatever you want,” you mumble. You know you should apologize for the sanctity of your status, but seeing his blood is cathartic to you, in a way. At least, until he speaks again.

With a clever fox smile, smug as the king of hell, Hawks drawls out, “the rising hero, Siren, is unstable and shouldn’t be trusted by the public.”

Your eyebrows pinch together. Hawks’ grin crawls wider, contented by your reaction to his threat.

“I was telling her not to get her hopes up about the awards ceremony. ‘There are a lot of other promising heroes gunning for The Best New Hero award,’ is what I told her, and she lost it…”

“Hawks—“

“She came at me with a glass she broke on the bar. Honestly, I’ve been worried about her drinking habits since day one, but I didn’t do enough to help her with the issue. In a way, it’s my fault this happened.”

“It is your fault!” You stomp your heel and throw an accusatory finger into his chest. “You attacked me!”

“Who do you think they’ll believe, sweetheart?” Hawks takes your hand in his, brings the back of your wrist up to his mouth, and kisses it. “The new hero with a pretty face, pretty voice, but is otherwise unknown, or me? Hero numero dos: Japan’s most trusted.”

You glare at him and he loves it. He enjoys every minute he puts you through mental turmoil.

“I could tell them it was an accident,” he sings, looping an arm around your waist to briskly pull flush up against him. You let him, but keep your head turned so you don’t meet his gaze. He continues—“but you’d have to make it up to me, little dove.”

His wings fall over you, shrouding you closer to him. He presses his lips to your temple, but doesn’t kiss you—doesn’t even speak again. He’s waiting for you to ask how.

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” you say into his shoulder.

“You don’t have to,” he hums, the vibration of his voice buzzing down your neck, “we can just end your career tonight.”

“Hawks.”

“Don’t act like you’re not soaking wet right now. I felt that cunt, babe. Turns out, I’m not the only one who likes it rough.” He turns your head to face him. “You want me-“ he sneers-“and I didn’t even have to stroke your feathers to get you there.”

You close your eyes when his lips greet yours. The kiss is quick, but it lingers like old faith. If you let him in, he’ll stay there. You know that. But he’s backed you into a corner.

“You’re my girl,” he coos, “and I wanna be civil—I do, baby. You know I only want what’s best for us. But you’re gonna have to meet me halfway in order to get us where we need to be. Do you understand?”

Us...we…He throws those words around as if they matter. Then again, they do matter. They must, to him at least, but not to you. The only thing you really care about is me. Still, you nod.

“I’m gonna need you to say it, Siren.”

You sigh. “Yes, Hawks. I understand.”

“Good!” He chirps enthusiastically, any dark tone he previously took vanished. He spins you around to face the door that leads back to the hall. At first, you think he’s going to continue where he left off, but his hand finds its place at the small of your back, and he guides you forward.

“Now, let's go win us some awards,” Hawks says, bringing his hand down to pat your ass, “then we can make sure both of our dreams come true.”

#yandere bnha #yandere!Hawks #yandere!hawks x reader #tw yandere #bnha x reader #bnha reader insert #reader insert #hawks x reader #yandere male

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romanapologist · 3 years

Text

montreal - roman hurt/comfort

pairing: this was written to all be platonic prinxiety, but can definitely be interpreted romantically !

warnings: unconventional self harm, non-graphic descriptions of wounds/injury

summary: a post-POF roman hurt/comfort fic in january 2021? yes <3

word count: 3.2k

notes: large portions of this were salvaged from one (1) night last summer at 4am when i was having a . time. the rest has been mainly recently written before i go to bed, with some extra bits added during my history classes B)) also shout out to [REDACTED]. u may not read this but if u do, i hope u know who u are & ilu

Virgil had been trying to calm himself down for the better part of an hour, as soon as they got back from the wedding fiasco; and he was doing a relatively okay job. Considering the circumstances, at least. Or so he thought, when he registered a spike in Thomas’s anxiety. This only served to make Virgil more anxious, because he had thought he had been doing well—until, he realized it wasn’t anxiety, not exactly, not fully—and it wasn’t coming from him.

Once he'd figured that out, it wasn't hard to trace the feeling to the imagination. He paused at the door. If this was where the strongest negative emotions were coming from, he already knew which side this was about. And could he really be surprised? Roman had wanted that callback for so long. Even at the court case, even when Roman gave Thomas his sentence, Virgil knew it killed him. And Virgil didn't do anything. Because he was so fucking scared of Thomas being bad, or of Janus winning, or something, and now whatever was going on was his fault, and--

And now was not the time for these thoughts. He breathed in. He opened the door.

Immediately, he was coughing out soot, heat burned his cheeks, his eyes blurred with protective tears forming against the smoke. It was hard to see, let alone process, what was happening. Then, he caught sight of the Dragon Witch. And he caught sight of—

“Roman!” Virgil choked on the yell, coughing again.

Obviously Roman couldn’t hear him from the distance, especially considering the brutal roar of the creature. Adrenaline kicked in, and as Virgil began to sprint towards the prince, he took in the entirety of the scene with alarm. Roman was...fighting, sure, except that Virgil had seen him fight before, and this... wasn’t right. Roman bested manticore-chimeras like it was a breeze, he HAD bested the Dragon Witch herself in every form she took, “just for training.” He always moved like he was in a ballet, not a battle, like it was more for show than challenge, and now...

Virgil watched Roman fall to a hard swish of the creature’s tail, and stay there. He almost expected the Dragon Witch to take mercy, or at least, to accept an early victory. But he watched her rear back, raise a taloned hand, the magma-red in her throat glowing brighter and brighter—just as Virgil got close enough to let fight win over flight.

Virgil crashed into Roman; they rolled just far enough that the swipe of claws only ripped the edge of Virgil’s jacket.

Immediate danger out of the way, Virgil clenched his eyes tight, trying to do it how Logan taught him. He found something that didn’t make sense--the grass. The grass was dry, therefore it should have been burning, but it wasn’t. He took that foothold to dispel all the fantastical elements of the scene, Dragon Witch and all her carnage blinking from existence. The new calm of the scene was jarring.

That just left a great big field, Virgil, and one absolute dumbass.

"What the fuck, Princey?!"

Virgil’s voice was distorted with stress, and Roman stared up at him wide-eyed, unsure—even terrified in a way that hurt. Virgil quickly pushed himself up so he wasn't pinning the other. Roman tried to copy this movement, only to groan, start coughing, and fall back again.

“Shit, I—“ Virgil looked at his hands and found red on them, looked at Roman and saw the color painting his chest. “I thought I dispelled all the imaginary stuff, why—?“

“Left brain sides can only dispel so much of what right brain sides feel,” Roman said, voice rough and thin and upsettingly casual, “Since they feel so real to me, you can’t get rid of them.”

“They feel…? Christ, ok, you need a medical kit, uhm—“ Virgil closed his eyes again; he was notoriously shitty at summoning things, and he had to concentrate for this—

“That’s ok; I’ve got it,” Roman said, letting out a quiet hiss as he propped himself up on one arm, and summoned the medical kit with the other, “You can go now.”

Virgil gaped at him in disbelief. When Roman attempted to stand up, and Virgil could no longer deny he wasn’t joking, he exclaimed, “Like Hell am I going, idiot!”

Roman just stared at him, and Virgil cursed under his breath. “Ok ok, let’s just... we should do this in the bathroom, uhm—“

Virgil awkwardly clambered over to Roman again, taking his hand, so he could blink them over together. He knew it would probably be more comfortable for Roman to sink in and out, but considering Virgil wasn’t practiced at that, he wasn’t going to risk screwing it up.

They apparated into the bathtub, and Virgil scrambled up, taking the med kit from Roman's hands.

Ok, ok, now Virgil just had to remember that one time Logan lectured them all on “Side Safety.” He took a shaky breath and washed his hands quickly, before turning back to Roman. He allowed himself to fully assess the prince this time and… Jesus. He was slumped against the back of the tub, having given up his attempts at composure while he thought Virgil wasn’t looking. His litany of scrapes, cuts, bruising, his shallow breathing, and--most of all--the wet, red patch slowly growing on his shirt, sparked renewed panic in Virgil.

“Ok, fuck, ok--let’s do this,” Virgil said, mostly to himself, as he knelt down by Roman to undo his already tattered shirt and take a wet towel to his chest. He had to suck in a breath at the sight of the jagged wound, a nauseous feeling catching up to him.

“You’ve already done a lot, you know,” Roman insisted. “You can--”

“If you tell me to go, Princey, I swear I’ll make these wounds worse myself,” he said, not meaning it in the slightest, which he would assume Roman knew--but the way Roman flinched and shut his mouth told a different story. “Shit, I didn’t mean that. Of course I didn’t mean that!”

Roman glanced away, and Virgil reached to cup his cheek, an instinct he didn’t know he had. Luckily, he caught himself in time to retract his hand. They both avoided eye contact for a second; Virgil cleared his throat; and he reached for the bottle of hydrogen peroxide before pausing. He vaguely recalled Logan mentioning how strong alcohols would only cause more harm, and they should just stick to mild soap instead. He gave the cut a longer look-over—it was certainly not a pretty sight, but probably not as bad as it looked. It was large, but not too deep. Plus, as sides, it would heal itself without needing anything like stitches or professional medical work. The past scars littering Roman’s body were proof of that. Actually--had he always had this many scars? Virgil squinted. How often did he do this?

Virgil finished cleansing and bandaging the wound to the best of his ability, with little talk beyond the occasional, soft “sorry” at Roman’s winces. When he had finished, he gave Roman his hoodie (an action the Prince was too tired to take much notice of), since summoning a new shirt seemed like a waste of whatever energy he had left.

“Ok, Princey, all done. Uhm, are you—how, how are you?” Virgil mentally kicked himself.

A small, bitter smile tugged at Roman’s lips for just a moment. He opened his mouth and then closed it, and finally shrugged. “Thank you for your help.”

It hurt, Virgil realized. Roman’s quiet voice, where near-shouting was his usual speech. His unkempt hair sticking to his forehead, where it was usually styled to be very lightly and intentionally ruffled. The bags beneath his eyes where there was usually concealer. All of it hurt.

Virgil sucked in a breath. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m being annoying, but I hope you know there’s absolutely no way I’m leaving yet.”

“Virgil,” Roman almost said it as a whine, which was closer to his usual style, so Virgil considered it progress.

“Roman,” Virgil deadpanned back.

Roman huffed. “Maybe I need space to really explore my feelings, and you’re actually being a terrible friend right now,” he argued.

“Uh-huh, well being a terrible friend is always my favorite, so,” Virgil leaned down, fumbling slightly as he picked Roman up bridal style, “We’re gonna get you to bed, and you can explore your feelings by sleeping.”

“Great, now you’re damsel-in-distressing me,” Roman said sarcastically, but he leaned his head into Virgil’s chest as he did so, which kind of ruined his point.

“Yeah, yeah. Act more like Megara next time, and maybe it’ll be different.”

•••

Roman groaned upon waking up. His whole body ached, but mainly it was focused around a sharper pain in his chest. He let his eyes flutter open, only to find Virgil staring at him from his desk.

“Ah,” Roman uttered, a jumble of memories from the past few hours returning. They felt foggy and mildly icky, but mainly the pain in them was the numb kind of pain, the tired kind. Really, it was indistinguishable from the dull ache of his bruises and cuts.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, as though he understood, even though he couldn’t possibly. “Uh, wanna talk about it?”

It was clear Virgil felt awkward asking the question. It was unclear whether that was due to his tendency to be embarrassed by everything he said, or—far more likely—that he wanted to stop babying a stupid prince, and just go about his business.

Roman sat up, suppressing a wince as best he could. “Do you want to hear about it?”

“Of course I do.” Virgil said it without an ounce of hesitation. Roman’s breath caught.

“Oh.” Roman shifted slightly over, and Virgil took a seat by him on the bed. “Okay. Uhm. I don’t know, I just—I messed up.” What else was new?

“...What did you mess up?” Virgil asked, with an inkling of suspicion, like he knew what this was about. But it wasn’t that; it wasn’t the callback—that was over and done and dead. Roman had created so many fantasies, so many crazy scenarios where they could somehow still make it in that stupid movie, and it had always filled him with hope or crushing pain or something, but as of this afternoon? He didn’t even care. It didn’t matter.

So, Roman ignored the question, and instead commented, “Janus got accepted.”

“What the fuck.”

Roman observed Virgil’s stricken expression like an unsettling kind of mirror of himself when—

My name is Janus.

“Yeah,” Roman sighed, “I didn’t take it so well either.”

Virgil looked at him for a long moment, seeming to go through several series of emotions, before he was able to ask, “...What happened?”

Roman inhaled sharply. “I was wrong about being wrong about the wedding. Patton was also wrong; Janus was right, and then Patton was right because he wasn’t a total asshole to Janus, and I’m evil; Thomas hates me; whatever, you get it.”

He thought he would break down, saying it, but he felt oddly… fine. He sat, staring at the same spot as he was before, absentmindedly annoyed at the way his bandages itched. The normalcy of the situation almost made it worse. This sucked. This wasn’t even bad.This was the worst he had ever felt.

“Oook,” Virgil said, clearly not knowing where to start, “I—you—what do you mean: Thomas hates you?”

“Thought that one was self-explanatory.”

“He can’t hate you,” Virgil said with a laughable amount of conviction. “You’re still his… y’know.. goals. Desires. Hopes. Whatever. Just because this one didn’t go… perfectly, doesn’t mean you won’t keep—“ he struggled to find the phrasing for a moment— “...fighting, uh, valiantly for Thomas’s dreams!” he attempted at the encouragement with a weak smile.

Roman just shook his head. “No. I don’t know what he wants.”

Virgil’s smile dropped into confusion. “But… you are his wants.”

“That’s kind of the problem.”

Virgil seemed at a loss, and Roman felt like an asshole. Here he was trying to help him, and Roman couldn’t even be bothered to put on a smile to dismiss him from the duty.

“Please go,” Roman attempted weakly when he couldn’t find a more convincing argument in himself. He was meant to be an actor, but he knew he couldn’t hide the fact that he wanted him to stay, of course he did, so badly. He hoped Virgil would just quit with the chivalry and go despite that.

Virgil sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shit, I'm going about this all wrong.”

Roman knew it probably wasn’t really him Virgil was mad at, but it was hard not to shrink away anyway.

“Look, Roman—“ Virgil turned to him, looked at him seriously, took his hands in his— “To be honest? I don’t care what happened. I don’t care who was right or wrong—I mean, we all know I’ve been in the wrong more than my fair share. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Roman didn’t miss the ambiguity of the end statement. “But… look, you don’t get it. When you mess up, you’re still you. You’re still...,” Roman gestured vaguely, which upset his bandages, and when he looked down at himself, he took note of the black/purple hoodie he was wearing. He melted slightly. This was exactly the point he was trying to make, “You’re still... y’know. Important.”

“Wh—? Of course you’re important, Ro. You’re creativity—“

“Thomas has two of those.”

Virgil looked at him like he was stupid. “Right, as if you’re anything like Remus.”

Roman’s lip quivered at that, and he had to look away, which was so stupid. And suddenly he felt all of the embarrassment at once—of this situation, of everything that had happened before, of the way he was about to cry, in front of Virgil, after he said that, which must look so—

“Roman?”

A hand was on his cheek, softly turning his face towards Virgil’s, though Roman still refused to meet his eyes.

Virgil cursed to himself under his breath. “Shit, this is exactly what I was trying not to say.” He sighed, and Roman hesitantly looked up at him. “Look. Even if you weren’t creativity, if you weren’t hopes or dreams or any of it—if you were a completely pointless side, which you aren’t, but if you were—I wouldn’t care. What I care about is that you’re... Roman. That you bother me until I sing Disney with you, that when you put your heart into something, you do it to a stupid amount, that you make Thomas take trashy buzzfeed soulmate quizzes when he’s stressed, and that you fucking try so hard for everything, even when I’m being a little bitch about it,” he paused. With the hand on Roman’s cheek, he traced the line of a scar down his jaw. It was one of the ones Roman usually made sure to put an illusion over, he noted offhandedly. “I care, because you’re my best friend.”

“Don’t say that,” Roman choked out. He couldn’t handle it if it was a lie, and part of him couldn’t manage hearing it as anything but exactly that. “Just—just—“

“Oh, Princey..”

Virgil held him as he broke. Roman didn’t know how long they sat like that as he let everything wash over him for a final time, let it all truly sink in at long last. He took heaving, messy sobs, no doubt ruining Virgil’s shirt in the process—he was quiet, though. He shook silently, save a couple choked breaths, in the other’s arms--that was a habit he had taught himself long ago.

When Roman had tired himself out, when all that was left was the pain in chest, (which was also suddenly duller—he was healing fast, even for a side—) he pulled back from the embrace. Virgil didn’t move by much, kept them so their fingers were laced together, as they sat staring at each other.

“Uhm. Thanks,” Roman gave a shaky smile, “You really—uh... I... I said some stupid stuff, huh?”

Virgil hesitated before he spoke, as if he knew he shouldn’t ask this right now, but needed to anyway. “...Roman, why’d you go to the Imagination?”

Roman felt ice stab at his chest upon the question. He didn’t want to do this. They had already talked about so much that he shouldn’t have gotten into; this was meant to be the part where they either parted or watched a stupid movie. And this, out of everything, was the conversation he most needed to avoid.

“Uh—I mean, to let off steam?” Roman gave a laugh as best he could. “Obviously, it didn’t go to plan—“

“Didn’t it?”

Roman’s face fell immediately. He struggled to come up with an answer, and even if he had had one, he didn’t think the sound would come out. This was enough of an answer in itself

“Shit,” Virgil breathed. Roman couldn’t help but be mildly annoyed by his surprise—clearly he had already known, he didn’t have to make it a big deal now.

“I… Princey—Roman…” Virgil looked him up and down, and Roman wanted to curl up and hide. “...how many times?”

“Not many,” Roman mumbled. Virgil must have known he was pushing the subject too far, because he just frowned and said,

“OK. I mean...it’s not OK, obviously, but you already know that, I just—“ he sighed. “Just… can you talk to me? Instead? Please? When you feel like… that.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Roman responded hastily, wanting an out from this topic.

Virgil gave him a look. “I’m serious. I mean—look, you don’t even have to talk about it if you don’t want. Just, come to me first, yeah?”

Roman’s face burned; he was embarrassed; he wanted to shrug this whole thing off, or roll his eyes, or maybe scream in annoyance. But the rational part of him knew Virgil was right. “OK,” he agreed softly, “...Thanks. For everything.”

Virgil looked surprised, and then flustered, and then waved off the earnest reply. “I mean, it wasn’t--I didn’t--it’s not like I did anything really--”

“You did.”

Virgil’s face softened. “Yeah, well... you’d’ve done the same for me. You... have done the same for me.”

Roman smiled gently at him. “By the way, Virge--” He hesitated. He was about to sound like a real dumbass if Virgil had only been saying this stuff for comfort’s sake. But making a fool of himself was becoming a theme for him anyway, so he continued, “You’re my best friend too.”

I love you.

In the same beats Roman thought it, Virgil squeezed his hand lightly 3 times. A breath passed between them. An understanding. That Roman couldn’t say it out loud, and Virgil wouldn’t.

Instead, Virgil fell back across the bed, bringing Roman with him in the motion. Roman let out a startled gasp and elbowed him lightly. “Hey! I’m injured, that could have been a fatal impact for me!” he whined.

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, yeah, OK. So, do you wanna watch a stupid movie, or what?”

#lucy.fic #romangst #roman sanders angst #roman hurt/comfort #prinxiety #platonic prinxiety #ts roman #ts virgil #everyone ik reading the title of this fic: ohhh my god we know u like penelope scott we know #‘we know u associate this song w roman we KNOW</3’#roman sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #also standard statement that im not a writer i just write sometimes pls do not. judge thishehusgs

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outerbankswriting · 4 years

Text

Could it Be? Chapter 13 (JJ x Reader)

JJ x Reader

CH.1 - CH.2 - CH.3 - CH.4 - CH.5 - CH.6 - CH.7 - CH.8 - CH.9 - CH.10 - CH.11 - CH.12

Description: She has a crush on JJ, but he has always seen her as another one of the “dudes”, or at least that’s what she thinks so she just doesn’t even try anymore, until things start to shift between the two of them. (A/N: I’M NOT GOOD AT DESCRIPTIONS BUT THESE IS JUST WHAT I WOULD LOVE TO HAPPEN IN OUTER BANKS WITH JJ)

Warnings: drinking???

CHAPTER 13

You placed the empty can of beer on the table and noticed JJ’s glare set on you as you reached for your fourth drink.

“Can I help you with something?” You spat at him before drunkenly smirking at the blonde.

“I see you’re thirsty.” He grinned as he helped you open the bottle.

“I just want to loosen up and have some fun.” You replied, pouring yourself some tequila and mixing it with a soda.

“Fun means danger when it comes to you,” He winked and you rolled your eyes at him.

“That was one time.”

“Whatever,” he went on, “I’m not letting you get shit-wasted tonight.”

“Says the one who’s already had six beers,”

“I can handle my alcohol, unlike you.”

You teasingly raised your eyebrow at him as your eyes lit up with a mischievous idea, JJ immediately shaking his head at you but letting out an equally mischievous smile.

“Here,” you handed him a shot of tequila and poured one for yourself as well, “I’ll show you I can handle it.”

“I would like to see.”

You raised your tequila shots to each other before gulping down the strong alcohol, your throat burning as the liquid went down.

Time went by and Sarah and John B where nowhere to be found, but you and JJ were having too much fun drinking and talking about nonsense to notice the couple had gone to John B’s bedroom to do stuff you had no business knowing about.

You wrapped your arms around JJ’s neck and playfully slow danced with him, your legs were struggling to move correctly as the alcohol was taking over your system but JJ’s arms wrapped around your waist helped you remain steady.

Both your faces were flustered form the alcohol and the heat from dancing around, the two of you were clearly drunk but not wasted thanks to JJ taking care of your drinking and not allowing you to mix your drinks.

You looked around the room to see if Sarah and John B were around, and when you didn’t see them anywhere near, you took the opportunity to press a quick kiss to JJ’s lips. He stared at your eyes in a loving and caring way as you burst into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” He asked.

“I just can’t believe we’re.. you know..” You struggled to find the words as you didn’t know what exactly was going on between you and JJ.

JJ’s eyes kept fixed on your, waiting patiently for you to complete your sentence but as he realised you were nowhere near to forming the words, he decided to help you.

“Dating?” He whispered and your eyes widened.

“So we are?” You muttered, a smile forming on your face.

“I mean,” he shrugged and bit his bottom lip, “if you want to, of course.”

You couldn’t help but smile wider at him, you knew JJ wasn’t one to easily express his feelings, let alone actually get involved in a relationship so this was a pretty big deal for the both of you, especially since this was all happening too fast yet it felt as if the two of you had waited ages for this to come true.

“I’ll have to think about it.” You bit the inside of your cheek, noticing JJ’s grip tighten and his eyebrows raise in confusion.

“Yeah, sure, I mean,” he stuttered and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing again, his confusion growing stronger.

“Of course I want to, you idiot.” You cupped his face and sensed him relax on your touch.

The two of you shared a slow and sweet kiss, his movements carefully synching with yours as he pulled you in closer. You opened your mouth to let him explore it as the kiss became more passionate and hungrier, you placed your hands on the nape of his neck and tugged at his hair, gaining a soft moan from him.

“I think we should go home.” You said, your lips inches apart.

“I think I agree.”

Neither of you bothered on letting your friends know you were leaving as they were also busy doing their thing. You took JJ’s hand and walked side by side to your place, it was a long walk but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

As you arrived to your house, the two of you hurried upstairs to your room, the tension and urgency filling the air but neither of you daring to make a move.

You sat down on your bed as JJ locked the door even though only the two of you were home. You bit the bottom of your lip as you stared at him. His grey tank top loose enough to show his toned abs and his strong arms making your head spin with unholy thoughts about them.

He turned to face you and you felt your cheeks heat up. No matter how long the two of you had known each other or how close you’d gotten to each other, he never failed to make you get all flustered and nervous.

JJ smirked as soon as he saw the rose tint on your cheeks and your eyes scanning all his body. He slowly walked over to you, your heartbeat speeding up by every step he was taking. The grin on his face kept growing wider as he noticed the effect he was causing on you, enjoying every second of it.

Once he was completely standing in front of you, you looked up at his face and matched your grin with his. Your face was exactly in front of his abdomen, and a bit too close to his lower area, making his heartbeat speed up as well.

Your confidence and urgency to have him all for yourself made you slowly and carefully run your fingers through his abdomen and you tugged at his shirt to signal him to take it off. He didn’t think twice before the grey tank top hit the floor and his upper body was bare as your eyes kept processing every inch of him.

Your hands traced his toned stomach and you felt his body twitch at your touch. You smirked to yourself, feeling confident at the effect you were causing on him. Your hand softly made its way lower and you noticed his chest rise up and down quicker as you intentionally but slightly rubbed your palm on his growing bulge, pretending as if it was an accident.

You then played with the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down, leaving him on his trousers which you also teasingly played with the waistband of them and then pushed him further away from you, making him raise an eyebrow at you in confusion. You stood up in front of him and placed a hard but quick kiss on his lips before turning around him.

“Sit down,” you demanded, surprised by your sudden urge of dominance.

JJ smirked at you and took your place on the bed, softly wrapping his hands on your waist as you stood in front of him, letting him stare at you while you took your own shirt off, revealing the top of your red bikini.

Your shorts joined your shirt on the ground, leaving you with your red bikini top and bottom which matched the color of JJ’s cheeks. You sat on his lap, facing him as you wrapped your legs around his waist and felt his bulge rub against your entrance, which was still covered by the bottom of your bikini.

“Y/N,” JJ whispered once you started moving your hips against him.

“Mhm,” was all you could bring yourself to say as the friction between the two of you made a tingling sensation intensify between your legs.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

You stared at his blue eyes and felt his thumbs stroke your hips. He was genuinely concerned about this, especially after knowing about your past with Rafe and sex.

But this time you felt different. You were sure of JJ and you didn’t want to do this with anyone else but him. You trusted him and you loved him, even if you hadn’t verbally expressed it to him. You’d never felt as confident and safe with anyone else as you do now with JJ. You knew you wanted this and you knew you wouldn’t regret nor have second thoughts about this.

You gently rubbed his cheeks as you leaned forward to his face, softly placing a loving kiss on his lips.

“I’ve never been more sure JJ.” You whispered against his lips as you felt his hands press tighter on your hips.

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A/N: we-

alright so I finally got the time to write and post ch.13!! hope you like it and PLS DO TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS!!

I would also love to know if you guys want me to write the whole scenario *coughs* smut *coughs* or simply leave it like that and just write about them after it’s done and stuff... but well it’s all up to you since I know some of u are not comfortable reading smut.

I think I’m also going to start a new taglist since idk if some of you are still reading this story and I keep getting messages about new people wanting to be added on the taglist so I think next chapter will have a completely new taglist so pls do let me know if u wanna be added!

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taglist: @babygirlizz - @atabigail - @poguesrforlife - @behappyitsemmalie - @jane-dough - @yeeedolan - @dontjinx-it - @sofiaconlaz - @fangirlwithme - @outermaybank - @hueycat2004 - @nope-thanks - @weasleyswizarding-wheezes - @haleswale - @hungoverhellhound - @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch - @asapkyndall - @hailiemarieeee - @emmasjulixn - @spideyyeet - @rosenbug - @cassidyiscool - @harrysbbby - @thatshiscigar - @kiarascarreras - @uhuh-listenboy - @normatural - @goldenariana - @heyyimlaynna - @lukvv - @irontoadllamaclam - @allisjustok - @saturno007 - @pluckypete - @pennepasta82 - @howdyherron - @perfektionsmakel - @dylanpain - @tulzu - @voidsxnsets - @shadesofbarryallen - @rimbougrine - @dolanfivsosxox - @allisjustok - @stell-rosie - @spoopysidemen - @optimisticherolightpanda - @dolansbeanies - @arsejungle - @missenchanted27 - @ctrlyouthmendes - @my-soul-is-the-moon - @hazelgirl355 - @sehunniehaechannie - @sweetwaterprincess - @ues-swiftie - @deadsunflower01 - @ghostlywombatnickelpeanut - @moadvx - @peachy-ness - @supersouthy - @howdyherron - @retro-mayfield - @cyxbv - @ydoesthesunsetbaby - @bellageorge03 - @thelittletank - @emmalvei-blog - @eaturveggiesbabe - @katiepego - @books-crushed-my-soul - @iamaunicorn4704 - @mrmaybaby - @sloanology - @wildest-dream- - @maplelattes22 - @disaster-rose - @5am-cigarette - @ravenclawmarvel - @peterbrokenparker - @pickeringshawnn - @thatshiscigar - @lovelydina - @sspidermanss - @lollypop-lam - @drunkwallows - @a-wari - @ajxlawley - @briiiimiranda - @oceantostars - @jordangdelacruz - @brightnss - @classywaves - @ironbuckley - @cilorawr - @the-beauty-queenn - @mileven-reddie- @blueegansey - @livingforbarnes - @angelnoirr - @fashionlive15 - @harrysbbby - @eb15 - @lcil123 - @drunkwallows - @uhuh-listenboy - @caringparker - @tangledinsparkles - @wildflower-lrh - @lollypop-lam - @mxrvelistic - @jeffsbarbershop - @bananasundae13 - @llunarist - @nick-awwstin - @aftertaxte - @timotaychalabae - @we-are-all-lovely - @k-k0129 - @wwylmlive - @sunshinemadds - @hawkeyetrained - @cremextart - @sunflowerwhoever - @possiamo-andare - @mayakblack - @poguelifeee - @moon-bcw - @love-bean - @turtlee-says-rawr - @heydemonsitsyagirlgrace - @marauderskeeper - @anescapefromtheworld - @imsad05

#JJ Imagine #jj #jj x reader #jj x you #jj x y/n #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x you #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #Outer Banks #outer banks netflix #outer banks fanfiction #obx #obx netflix #obx imagine #obx fanfiction

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parvuls · 3 years

Text

@missellewoods wrote this post, and i wanted to respond to it, but i also didn’t want to add a thesis-length response to their post. the post was about the complexity of the parse iii scene, and i highly encourage looking at it before reading this, because it’s a direct response.

i wasn’t sure i was gonna do it, but i’m fascinated with jack’s pov, so.

(transcripts from parse i-iii, plus visual cues from lva@pvd i)

[jack turns around, obviously unhappy/startled] "kent." "hey, zimms. didja miss me?" [smirks]

so parse shows up at the haus for the second time, after jack’s seen him last in either freshman or sophomore year. jack is not happy to see him. this is probably the part the remains the most ambiguous to us as an audience, because it leads up to parse iii: shitty’s story about parse’s first appearance is supposed to make us think that jack is jealous, and that he’s holding a grudge because parse is living his dream while he’s at samwell. however, this story isn’t included to give us more information about jack’s psych -- it is, after all, what we expect from jack after his year 1 arc -- it’s there so the impact of parse iii is more significant. it’s the first time we’re given reason to doubt jack’s heterosexuality and are given an actual glimpse to jack’s past since ‘the hockey prince’.

so is shitty’s story true? obviously ngozi is playing with the narrative here: smh all claim parse is a modest, super nice bro, but then we hear how he talks to jack in parse iii. meaning, ngozi is telling us: believe no one. you can’t actually know what he’s like, or what jack and he are like.

so our scene begins with jack, 1) either upset because his former friend shows up and triggers his intense jealousy, or 2) is upset because his former flame shows up and triggers unresolved feelings. honestly, in my opinion, jack himself isn’t sure which one it is. which is a great set up for the unfolding of the next scene.

[jack and parse are talking about jack’s nhl plans]

"...you have no clue?" "i mean... it could be montreal, it could be l.a. okay? i don't know." "...what about las vegas?" "i... i don't know, okay?" "..." [parse probably moves closer/tries to kiss him] "pars---" "..." "..." [whispered] "--kenny... i can't do this." "...jack. come on."

their conversation starts out relatively neutrally. we’re given enough clues from this update and the future of omgcp to deduce that parse isn’t over what he and jack had. this is also the very reason they don’t work and why this conversation takes a sharp turn downwards from here: parse equates his feelings and whatever sexual/romantic connection they had to the chemistry they had on the ice. to him, jack leaving him and going to play for some obscure college is just as upsetting as their ‘thing’ ending. parse spends most of this scene trying to convince jack to come play with him in lv -- the only reason we even know it’s in some way romantic is because of his reaction to the Cup Kiss in year 3. otherwise, he makes it sound like he misses jack as a liney and best friend, maybe as a sexual partner.

but the catch is, jack was in a really bad place when they were playing together, and he doesn’t want that back. does parse know how bad things were? does parse know about jack’s anxiety? how well does parse know jack, really? this is all kept intentionally hidden from us. you could say that they were best friends, so it’s reasonable that parse knew all of this (thus painting his character in a much worse light), or you could say shitty is jack’s best friend and he still didn’t know major things about him. ngozi doesn’t want us to be able to tell how aware or not aware parse is.

so in the beginning of this scene, we’re on the edge of an inevitable cliff. parse wants jack back, as a friend/flame and as a teammate, and jack’s obviously torn. he doesn’t push parse away immediately, but he also doesn’t consent. my opinion is that jack is torn between his old dream (all his 18-year-old self wanted was to play in the nhl with parse, and win win win), and knowing this isn’t what he wants. but does not wanting that necessarily means he doesn’t want parse himself? jack’s obviously not sure, because he lets parse corner him/kiss him before he decides it isn’t right.

if anyone here has ever met an old flame, especially someone who was bad for you but you cared for for a long time, you’ll know how easy it is to fall into patterns. for a moment the idea of having that all again is so enticing. but then the illusion shatters, and...

"no, i-- ...uh." [and then much louder] "kenny--" "--zimms, just fucking stop thinking for once and listen to me. i'll tell the gms you're on board and they can free up cap space. then you can be done with this shitty team. you and me --" "get out."

here is the most important part of this scene in my opinion. kent doesn’t know jack anymore. anyone on the face of the planet could tell you that jack is a hardass, that he’s tough on his teammates, that his dream is the nhl. but jack loves his team. he didn’t necessarily always know how to be their friend, but he certainly doesn’t think of them as a ‘shitty team’ he’s stuck with.

and parse makes the mistake of shattering the illusion he’s built (with the clever use of the wording ‘shitty’, which probably reminds jack of the friends he has now). jack wakes up from the dream he had when he was 18 and comes back to reality: he’s samwell men’s hockey team’s captain, he cares for his team, and his new dream is to win the ncaa championship and go to the nhl. he doesn’t want this thing parse is offering him, because the person he’s offering it to isn’t him anymore.

and here is the first twist of this scene that op is referring to: jack starts to get angry.

"--jack." "you can't-- you can't come to my fucking school unannounced --" "--because you shut me out--" "--and corner me in my room--" "--i'm trying to help--" "--and expect me to do whatever you want--" "FUCK -- JACK!!! what do yo want me to say? that i miss you?” [twists his fingers in jack’s shirt, crowding into jack’s space. jack turns away, frowning angrily] “i miss you, okay? ...i miss you."

does parse really miss jack, or is it a ploy? honestly, i think the facial expressions we’re privy to in year 3 hint that he really means that. he misses jack. he doesn’t necessarily miss the current jack (it’s likely that he’s stuck on the fantasy of what they had when they were younger), but he means what he says. he wants jack back.

but jack is angry, because parse is complicating things for him. they were talking about playing together, and then parse insulted his choices, and now parse is talking about being together, and jack -- who took A YEAR PLUS to figure out his feelings for bitty -- probably has a hard time handling all of these things at once. for parse there’s nothing complicated here: the jack he knows wouldn’t want to play for a college team (therefore, =shitty team), and playing with jack=being with jack.

for jack none of these things work like that anymore. they’ve grown too far apart.

"...you always say that." "...huh. well, shit. okay. ...you know what, zimmermann? you think you're too fucked up to care about? that you're not good enough? everyone already knows what you are but it's people like me who still care."

and... okay. so things go south now, and quickly. if you’re a parse stan... honestly, i hope you’re a parse stan who’s aware parse needs a shit ton of therapy.

jack insults parse, whether intentionally or unintentionally, by being casual about parse’s declarations of feelings. to be fair, jack thinks parse was playing dirty. but parse doesn’t see it like that, so he’s offended, and apparently when he’s offended he gets angry and lashes out.

now. the unfortunate thing about knowing someone at their most vulnerable time is that you also know exactly how to kick them down to their lowest. we all hurt our loved ones the most, because we know them the best. but parse doesn’t just hurt jack here: he goes for the jugular. he kicks jack and then makes sure he stays down. and this is actually the most we see parse say in the whole comic, so... we can’t judge parse as a whole person, but. i’m sorry. he’s definitely not a good friend to jack.

(how bad of a friend? depends on how aware he was of jack’s anxiety and thoughts and feelings. if he was aware, this is a highly emotionally abusive thing to do. if he wasn’t aware, he was just being a shitty friend. either way, parse needs therapy, because he’s holding on to a lot of anger and is expressing it in a really awful way. but we can’t analyze him any further as a character because parse is not the focus of this story and we don’t know anything more about him.)

[faintly] "--shut up--" "--you're scared everyone else is going to find out you're worthless, right? oh, don't worry, just give it a few seasons, jack. trust me." [probably begins shaking] "...g-get out of my room." "fine. shut me out again." "and stay-... stay away from my team." "why? afraid i'll tell them something?" [voice growing stronger] "leave, parse." [door opening; jack and parse are surprised to find bitty outside the door. jack is visibly shaking, holding the attack at bay]

op asked how jack’s anger turns into a full blown panic attack. the answer is parse goes for his weak points faster than jack can prepare himself, just when jack was open for an attack. he calls jack ‘worthless’, which is jack’s second worst fear, and then (probably) tries for the sexuality angle. it’s unclear whether he’s threatening to out jack or to tell the team about his substance problems, but more likely the former, because the latter was all over the news.

parse is clearly upset here. is he just angry for being rejected? is he humiliated? is he heartbroken? we don’t know. the only hint we have is ‘shut me out again’, which implies he’s at least still upset about jack cutting him off after the draft. what we do know is that jack, with the last shreds of his will power, tries to defend his team. tries to cling on to the idea that he knows there are people who believe in him (this is very hard under the cloud of anxiety).

either way, jack’s panic isn’t even about parse or what parse used to be -- it’s just that parse knows where to press.

[parse clears throat, putting his indifferent mask back on] "hey. well. call me if you reconsider or whatever. but good luck with the falconers." [lands the final blow] "...i'm sure that'll make your dad proud." [jack's panic attack takes over. he retreats to his room, slams the door, and slides down to curl into himself on the floor for an undetermined amount of time]

and then parse, in front of jack’s teammate, lands the worst punch he has in his arsenal. jack’s worst fear. disappointing his dad.

jack spent all of year 2 talking to nhl teams and being watched by scouts and negotiating contracts, and consulting with his dad and his teammates to make a decision. he’s not sure about the falconers until much later, but he obviously leans towards them. which is a whole essay in and of itself: jack leans towards the falconers, a smaller, younger team with no cups, but with a lot of potential and good people and something to prove. this is a metaphor for jack’s growth as a character. he could go for a more established team to look good in front of the world, or pick a winning-streak team like the aces to feed into his anxiety. parse is taunting him with his own growth, making him doubt himself: you think you can change? you think you can really be someone new after playing in some college team? if you’re not who you were when you were 18 and first-pick at the draft (before you ruined everything for yourself and ended up here), you’re no one. and your dad will never be proud of you.

[end scene.]

#omgcp #omgcheckplease #jack zimmermann #pimms #...? i really don't wanna tag that but i guess that's accurate.#text #meta #i get easily triggered by pimms discussions but i do think this scene was brilliant story-wide #*wise #so i wrote out all my thoughts and i hope no one who disagrees will get overwhelmingly mad at me

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redloftwingfeathers · 3 years

Text

I feel like talking about the shit Zelda not only had to put up with but also what she subconsciously summoned herself and you're going to sit and listen and maybe cry with me okay? Okay.

While I don't think that was very cash-money of 'Hylia' to make Zelda wait until she's reached true, unrelenting despair to finally find her light, it made me wonder how everything came into play that made her journey so painstakingly hard, and not just Hylia pulling fast ones from the clouds. (Trust me I wanted to blame the goddess so bad after that moving performance at the spring of power but wait!! there's more!)

Things I'm looking at are specifically Zelda's anxieties of wanting to be a scholar but having to throw herself to the dogs of religion to keep Rhoam happy, the HEAVY depression she carries with not just from the loss of her mother but also just constantly being berated by her father and feeling like she's not good enough for Hylia, the jealousy and anger she harbors towards Link in their beginnings and how it effects her growth.

All of these are things (coming from someone who is very mentally ill) are ingredients that distract Zelda from her goals, intentional or not.

Zelda has a classic case of "I wanna do This Thing (studying, traveling) but I have to do That Thing (religion, strict orders) instead and now the fun is sucked out of it and my mind is buzzing and now I don't know what to do girl (hylia) HELP"

What's even worse is despite her hand-picked maturity, she KNOWS what is right and what she needs to do (her level of self awareness is impeccable sometimes) but she is still just a child in the end, wanting to live her life without dictation, which causes frustration and anger and can lead to self-doubts.

Starting with the loss of her mother, Rhoam claims that Zelda did not cry at all during the ceremony, and that it proved to him he could still be a strong king with how unwavering his daughter was. And although that's shown as an "awe inspiring" moment, it shows Rhoam does not understand how the processing of grief registers differently amongst people, especially children. She may have not showed it when she was, what, 6? (Not every normal 6 year old understands the fragility of mortality) but you can definitely see it affects her later on as Zelda grows older. It may not be entirely visible at first, but the way they portray it in HWAoC (I know its not entirely canon but bare with me on this) she longs for her mother's advice and comfort when her pleas and ideas fall deaf on the king's ears. Her mother seemed to be a very wise and compassionate queen, where Rhoam is a wise and a very bite-the-bullet king.

When stakes are high he trusts what he thinks needs to be done, and he enforces Zelda to finish her training Because she is part of his plan to push back the calamity. He knows protocol, and there's no room for creative thinking when the land of Hyrule is in danger. (Disclaimer: I hate Rhoam but I can also try to see what Nintendo was doing. He's not intentionally mean, he's an assertive dad that wants to see his daughter succeed (and also hella depressed) but he's really fucking bad at it and comes off as a dickhead. He is the embodiment of a boomer that does things the old fashioned way to get things done).

But all of this pressure he is putting on her, taking away things that make her happy so they don't distract her from her duty, shooting down her ideas because he wouldn't know how to even approach it from his standpoint, it really does a number on Zelda and really births her insecurities.

No matter how hard she prays and dedicates herself to Hylia, it doesn't work. Her mind is distracted, filled with fear and very little hope that the magic isn't Working. What even kicks me in the jaw more is that she's putting all of her effort into these prayers, and it's not even her wish she's making. It's Rhoam's wish. Her Ancestral Family's wish. That's why it hasn't sparked. She's praying on the behalf of her father and ancestors and not herself because she firmly believes there's other ways to settle the score. Zelda knows the importance of her role but its just not clicking when someone else is forcing you to do it. It just doesn't work like that.

Moving onto her liaison with Link, she is, well, in the beginning very irritated with him. Even a little bit after being chosen by Fi. But I don't think she MEANS to be angry at Link, he didn't do anything wrong in all honesty. She shouldn't take out her anger on him, but she's jealous, and he exists...so like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

When Link is suddenly chosen by the sword at a drop of a hat?? Yeah she's relieved, but there's also undertones of resentment. All of her Champions are here at the ready and she's still trying to figure out what shoe goes on first. She is the goddamn Princess of Hyrule, one who carries the blood of Hylia in her veins, and this random tiny knight who, mind you, fought tooth and nail to be her escort ends up finding his role before her? She is riding the struggle mule up Mount Lanayru (and I don't really blame her). And when she's exploring the shrines?? She makes it very clear to him she can work independently and does not need an escort, which although understood (freedom is a peace everyone strives for) she is careless regardless of her careful planning and efforts. She's a Princess, wandering Hyrule unarmed (and without her powers) with a horse as her only mode of transportation. You won't see yourself as a target even if they're pinned on your back, and with her determination to utilize these mysterious shrines as more Sheikah tech is being discovered is making her blind in remembering where she's placed in social status. It's dangerous, and I'm glad Link is there to see what she fails to see.

That's another thing too. As they progress and strengthen their friendship, Zelda sees Link as a mirror to question what her role really means. She uses him as guidance to help understand her situation, asking him "If you were told your whole life This is what you're meant to do, to take up your family's legacy...but one day realize this isn't what you want, would you still take the path you've been told to take?" In this case I think it's safe to say this is what Link knew he wanted. He loves being an aid to those in need, and becoming a knight despite following his father's path, this felt like his true calling. The spirit of the hero is VERY strong in his soul, and when he sees someone in need of help [Zelda] he's going to aid them whether they want it or not.

But Zelda still feels so lost, she feels so disconnected from her ancestors, as the previous daughters in the royal families were Given their powers at birth and meant to be awakened when the time has come. They were all given the gift of premonition, to be a medium for Hylia and a messenger of the gods, and overall able to keep Ganon away from the world no matter how many times he crawls back from the depths of hell. Being told your whole life you're meant to be like your ancestors, but not being able to fulfill any of those roles? It makes the past seem like one giant fairy tale when in you're in BotW Zelda's shoes.

No voices, no premonitions, no secret awakenings...Nothing.

At this moment, I finally understood why Urbosa said to Revali about Link. She said he is a constant reminder of Zelda's own failures. Link found his calling by following his instinct. Zelda has yet to figure out what she really wants, and is clouded by judgements not only from her father and people, but from herself too. With every passing day she is undergoing a meltdown, questioning if she is even meant to be apart of this whole plan anymore, probably something among the lines of "Was it meant to be someone else? I'm the only daughter, and yet I can't even do my one job." She lost everyone and everything, she's frightened, it feels like she's lost her faith in the gods, or even dare say, the gods lost faith in her.

But through absolute despair when Link just about gives his life for her protection, that's when it all clicked. She found her power and strength through Link, who was the one that, all this time, taught her about what she needed to do to awaken her powers without even directly telling her. Every conversation she had with him, she saw herself in Link. She saw all the effort he gave into becoming a royal knight, the unwavering determination in his eyes with every Lynel he slew, a never ending supply of optimism and hope no matter how high the stakes were. And yet he was also Free. He followed his path blindly, not even knowing where he'd end up, as long as he knew he was

able to protect those in need. And she wanted that.

He was her mirror, and Zelda managed to awaken herself when that mirror cracked.

Living the burden of being part of a prophecy and saying you're ready for anything, is very reckless. Understanding the heaviness that comes with sacrifice is not truly understood until it starts happening to you.

Zelda found her wish, her independence through Link. Her mind is finally clear and she understands what her role means in all of this.

She is meant to protect, to save, to understand more than just personal loss.

Zelda couldn't stand by idly anymore after everyone told her to do something else and let others handle the job. That was the last straw when Link stood in front of her, shield weak but at the ready when that guardian approached. She saw the desperation and said NO, which finally broke her seal. She chose to sacrifice herself, igniting her powers just as Hylia did for her people. She chose to save her last, literally dying hope, because Ganon cannot be fought alone.

He was the connection, the literal link, she needed to awaken her powers. And I just find that so fucking great.

Anyways thanks for coming to my TED talk I've been typing this for like 4 hours now

#hHGDFJDF SORRY THIS IS SO LONG #dont tag as zelink pls i tried keeping this ambiguous as possible thank #the legend of zelda #botw #aoc spoilers #sorta #cat talks #also my thoughts are flying faster than my fingers #so this might skip and jump around #my adhd welcomes you

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samkee00 · 3 years

Text

She-Ra Spoilers Ahead!!!

I just finished She-Ra and the Princesses of Power so I figured I’d slap down a few of my immediate thoughts. I’m not a great writer and I don’t always know how to put my thoughts into words, but I wanted to try.

- I got Catradora spoiled for me early on, so I looked at a lot of their interactions through a lens of that being the end result. For the first few seasons, I was like “that shouldn’t happen, this relationship is too riddled with trauma and abuse to end up healthy”. Between now and then, though, I’ve seen/read several things on seeing characters as parts of a story instead of as “real” people. Catra’s arc and her relationship with Adora are obviously much faster-paced “recoveries” than would (healthily) happen in real life, but that’s an artifact of the medium. The messages of the story still come through clearly, and the fact that there are things that need to heal is pointedly noted. Basically, I guess what I’m saying is “I ship it”.

- Catra and Adora’s reaction to Shadowweaver’s sacrifice felt really notably real and genuine to me. I feel like this is a part where some people might say “she was horrible to them, especially Catra. Why would they care?” without stopping to think about what she was to them. From what we see, she’s effectively their only parental figure growing up, someone whose affection and approval they, or at least Catra, desperately worked for. Unfortunately, being abused doesn’t always stop you from loving someone. It can make you feel like you aren’t doing enough for the person you love, like you could be better. I’m not a fan of the “redeems self, dies” trope, but Shadowweaver’s end felt like less of a redemption and more of an apology. I think it works. I do question why they couldn’t all go into the passageway and then have her block it off, but whatever, Plot

- Still really disappointed with the relative lack of general worldbuilding throughout the show, especially the first three, maybe even four!!! out of five seasons. Background characters only existed in places to move the plot along, when I really feel like they should’ve also been there to provide atmosphere and tell us about the world. There were tons of different races depicted throughout the show, and none of them (IIRC) were ever given a name. For most kingdoms and the Fright Zone, we never really even saw the citizenry. Catra, Scorpia?, and I guess Swiftwind were the only non-extremely human adjacent, non-horde clone people who were really given any role. Rogelio barely counts, he was played off as a joke (like I complained about before).

- Wish we would’ve gotten a bit more epilogue, or at least were shown more of the characters we’ve met at the end. Kyle, Rogelio, and Lonnie especially come to mind. We got a whole episode about them, they left the Fright Zone, and then..... nothing, really.

- I REALLY shouldn’t want Hordak to actually have a happy ending with Entrapta... Like I mentioned earlier with Catradora, there is a ton of trauma and abuse involved, and obviously he committed so many atrocities of his own volition and with no remorse, and has done almost nothing to redeem himself. but they’re so cute........ this is such a stupid point and I realize I just said a lot to say I think Catradora is justified while I have NO reasoning or excuse for this. The show just (obviously intentionally) played them up to be cute with each other!!! Really though, if they make another season or an extended epilogue or something, I do hope Hordak is shown as being punished for and atoning for all the incredibly bad shit he’s done. Shadowweaver got out of it by dying. Hordak needs to work for his forgiveness, or at least his freedom.

#long post #she-ra #she ra #she ra and the princesses of power #she ra spoilers #spoilers #she-ra spoilers #catradora #if I missed things or fucked up details don't kill me lmao

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megthemewlingquim · 4 years

Note

Hi!! Could I request 54 and 90 for the kinktober event please?? 😍😍

Crepuscular

Summary: You and Adam get very close.

Pairing: Adam x fem!virgin!Reader

Warnings: a self-conscious reader, loss of virginity, smut, no protection involved (guys, wrap it before you tap it! your partner probably is not a vampire.)

A/N: Adam is getting more love! This is my entry for Kinktober Day 26. Like I've said before, prompt 54 will not be written here, because it will be written on the last day of Kinktober.

I'm proud of this one.

You sigh, breathlessly, as Adam runs one of his hands over your arms. Another is up against your back, gently pulling you closer to him.

Twilight is coming. It's almost past your bedtime, but you don't mind. Not now.

Adam is somewhat of a silent lover, as he is a silent being. He makes no sounds, except little words of encouragement and praise.

His other hand comes to rest upon your thigh, and you tense, just a little. He can feel it, it seems, because he stops and he looks back up at you.

“What is it?” he asks softly. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“I wouldn’t know what wrong means,” you say with a small smile. “I’ve never done this before... with anyone.”

“You’ve never even... kissed anyone before?”

“No,” you say. “No one’s come onto the stage. You’re the first audition, Adam.”

He smiles at that. Ah, Adam and his arts.

“But you should know what wrong is... it’s anything you’re not comfortable with. Okay?”

You nod. “Yes. Thank you.”

“So... have I done anything wrong?”

Your eyes flick downward, and Adam’s eyes follow them. “Oh,” he says with realization. “Sorry.” He takes his hand off of you.

“It’s alright, Adam. It was just a little... unexpected, ‘s all.”

He pauses, looking deeply into your eyes with that little upward glance he has. It’s a hopeful one, a kind one, one that is asking for something.

“Would you ever want me to kiss you?”

“Yes,” you say, without hesitation.

“Can I now?”

You turn red, avoiding eye contact with him then. You stammer out, “It - it’s not that - that I - I - I don’t want -”

“Honey,” he mumbles, taking your hands in his. “Honey,” he says, his voice soft and sweet and gentle. “Honey... you trust me, don’t you?”

It’s a genuine question, you realize. He’s asking you this. It’s not rhetorical.

“Yes,” you say. “Yes. Absolutely.”

He looks relieved. “Then, what’s the matter? What’s got you so... so restricted? So pent up? So... so scared?”

It takes you a while to get the words out. “I feel so small,” you whisper. “How could you ever want that with me? I don’t... I don’t see it.”

Lord above, have you just heard Adam sigh with something other than annoyance?

“Sweetheart,” he mumbles. “C’mere...”

He pulls you to him again, ever so slowly locking your lips with his.

You’ll never forget how gentle Adam is, how absolutely tender he is with you. You shudder when you think of it: this being, this creature, this vampire... he’s kissing me, and he’s holding me close, and he’s not hurting me...

HIs lips are soft, achingly soft, and his breath is warm against them. “That’s it,” he whispers. “Good girl... thank you.

“I want to do something for you... can I...” He groans, but it’s almost silent. “Can I make love to you?”

“What?” you whisper, your heart pounding. You’re not afraid. Emotional, maybe, but not afraid. Never. Never with Adam.

“I want to show you,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours, “what it’s like. I want to show you how much I love you. And, well, if you know anything about me, words... aren’t my favorite option for this.

“If you’re ready,” he continues, “we can. But I won’t do anything if you don’t agree. If you’re not ready, I completely understand. But... someday... I would like to do this. Make your first time special. Loving. Adoring. Because, Christ knows you deserve it... holy shit, I love you...” His voice trails off.

“Adam...” you say, your voice a little louder. He looks at you.

“Please,” is all you say.

Adam seems incredibly large once his shirt is off. And you seem small, as small as a mouse, in nothing but your bra and underwear. It’ll take Adam so much time to even get those off of you and he knows it.

He’s not doing anything you don’t want him to do, though. It’s just taking time to warm up to him, to accept this notion from him. And he’s patient, he understands completely. He’s still gentle, infinitely tender, as he brings your shirt above your head and your pants off of your legs.

His touches are feather light, and they bring warmth and a little bit of roughness from the callouses on his fingers.

“A-A-Adam,” you stammer, when his hands come behind you to unclip your bra. He stops, looks at you. He sees that you’re not rejecting anything. He can tell... you want this, too.

He shushes you. “Baby... doin’ so well for me already. Don’t be afraid. Let me... let me take care of you, okay?”

When the bra comes off, there’s no stopping to admire you. Adam wants to, of course, but he wants to see all of you. He does, eventually. The panties come off, and then you’re bare.

You’re not completely shaved down there. By the look on Adam’s face, though, it seems like he doesn’t mind.

“Baby,” he asks, “for tonight, can you accept the notion that I think you’re fucking gorgeous?”

You nod, stunned.

He himself undresses, and now you’re the one staring.

We look so... natural. So... us. So human.

“What about...” you swallow. “What about protection?”

That little smile comes back. He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand. “We don’t need it,” he says. “I can’t... I can’t procreate, darling, for a number of reasons. But the only reason we need to know right now is that it wouldn’t be able to get you pregnant. Okay?”

Although the thought is devastating to hear, you nod again. “Uh huh.”

"I'll just have to come inside you, then. Is that... is that okay? Can we do that?”

“Yes.”

He looks at you for a moment. “Do you want to be on your back, or your stomach?”

The images flash before your eyes. “Stomach,” you manage, trying to keep your eyes on his own and not his cock, which is... it’s hard. Oh.

“I thought you might say that...” he says. He begins to turn you over, making sure you’re comfortable in the mess of blankets and pillows that is his bed. “This means that you don’t have to think about my eyes on you. This means that I can just have you feel everything, okay? You need this. I want to do that for you, honey.”

You gulp, nodding furiously.

His blankets and covers are silky soft, and the bed itself is like a cloud. Adam likes his sleep, and he likes it best when he can drift off on a softer surface.

“Can I put a finger in you? I’ll go slow. This is just to see if you’re prepared.”

“Yes.”

So he does, and the stretch burns, but not as much as you thought it would.

A stray thought comes to you then. Maybe the tampons have helped me with this, just a little.

“Oh, you’re ready, alright. You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, keeping your eyes on the corner of a pillow.

“Good. Can I put it in now?”

Neither of you have to clarify what it means. “Yes,” you say. “Please... go slow.”

You hear Adam hum, contentedly, behind you. “I will. No matter what happens here, may it be you accept it all and like it, or you panic and we stop... I’m okay with either, and I want you to know that you’re safe. I’d never hurt you, not intentionally. Okay? Never. I’d kill myself before I hurt you.”

“But that would hurt more,” you say, and you hear Adam suck in a fast inhale.

“God, I love you,” is all he says.

Then you feel his length pushing in you, and you have to bite your hand to keep from crying. Yes, the pain is there, and it is an ache that seems to tear you open, but it’s lessened by Adam’s slowness.

You whimper, a small sound of a frightened little thing, and he stops. “Honey?” he asks. “Hey... I’m here, okay? I know it hurts but it’ll be over soon. You’re doing so well for me.”

He asks if he can continue, and you tell him yes. Then he grabs your hand from behind, and locks your fingers together.

After a few more seconds of burn, he’s done, and you feel so full, so stretched, so... so old.

“I’m gonna start thrusting now, alright?” Adam’s voice sounds gritted, labored. Once he gets your okay, he starts to move. Slowly, ever so slowly, the pain inside of you fades, as does the fear.

You sigh, then. Adam recognizes it as a sigh of pleasure. “There we go,” he says, and he sounds elated. “That’s it, honey, good job.

“You’re so beautiful... how the fuck did I end up with a zombie like you?” he pants. “I’m so glad we can do this. Just feel it all, baby. Feel it...”

You do, you feel the burn that is quickly fading, you feel the deepness but the slowness of his thrusts, and in those thrusts, you can feel Adam there, his love.

You’ve never felt safer.

All the while, Adam gives you little praises. He’s a man of few words, but the words he does say here are sweet, kind, affirmative. “Good girl,” he breathes. “So beautiful... I love you, baby, you know that...”

It goes on, and as it does, your pleasure grows.

You moan in the middle of it all, and he hums again. “There she is,” he says, and something about that makes you shiver. “Don’t hold it in.”

You continue to moan while he grunts with exertion.

You come, with his gentle, whispered encouragement, and the feeling is like a train pushing into you from behind. You feel yourself tightening around him, and you feel the warmth of your first real orgasm hitting you.

He comes after a few more seconds of that. His come warms you further.

For a while, you stay just like that. All Adam does different is lean down, and kiss your temple. “I’m so proud of you. Thank you. Do you feel better now?”

You smile. “Yeah. I love you, Adam... I love you so fucking much...”

And, though it seems like he’s said a thousand times already, he says it to you, too.

#kinktober #adam (olla) x reader #adam x reader #adam olla x reader #adam olla #only lovers left alive #adam x reader smut

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taleasnewastime · 4 years

Text

Crush culture

Jimin x reader genre: angst; fluff word count: 1.9k

a/n: I have finally written part two to Heather, the first part can be found here, but I think you can probably read this one without having read the first if you want. There’s some angst at the start but it all ends fluffy. I had a few requests to write this so I hope it lives up to all of your expectations and that you enjoy!! Also I named this after another Conan Gray song but it has nothing to do with the song.

Taking a deep breath you push the door open to the coffee shop that Jimin had text you the address to. As you step in you look around the tables, however don’t spot the man in question. You try and steady your nerves as you walk over to an empty table away from the other customers.

As you take a seat you pull out your phone. No new messages. The time was one minute past the time Jimin had said to meet, he should be here any second.

Your leg nervously bobs up and down as you try and distract yourself from the upcoming conversation. You had to keep repeating, it’s just Jimin, to yourself in an attempt to calm down. However, that seemed to be doing little to settle your nerves. You hated confrontation and the thought that you were about to lay everything out on the table for Jimin to see made you feel vulnerable.

But as you kept thinking, it is just Jimin. Jimin, the man you had known for years, who had always been by your side in tough times, who was the kindest man you knew, who didn’t have a bad bone in his body. You can’t imagine him ever doing anything to intentionally hurt you. However, he had hurt you, and that’s why you were now sat here waiting for him.

The seconds tick by impossibly slow as you sit waiting. You wonder whether you should order a drink. And if you do, should you get one for Jimin too? You’d be able to guess what he wanted but maybe that wouldn’t be what he wanted today? Your anxiety from the situation making you overthink everything detail, you don’t even notice the door open or Jimin enter the cafe looking around for you, just as you had done minutes earlier. You only notice him when the chair opposite you is pulled away from the table and a body sits down opposite you.

“Hi,” he says as he pulls himself and chair closer to the table.

“Hi,” you reply, nerves in your voice. “I was going to order but wasn’t sure what you wanted,” you feel the need to explain.

A smile graces his face as he looks at you. “I’ll go get them, what do you want?” He starts to push his chair back away from the table so he can stand.

“No, you don’t have to,” you say, pushing yourself away from the table in an attempt to stop him, but he is already stood. Looking down at you now his smile grows wider.

“I’ve got it love. What do you want?”

“Just a tea please,” you give a smile as you look up to him. He gives a nod and then turns to head to the counter.

As you watch him talk to the girl at the counter, you think about what has brought you to this moment. Heather. Beautiful, sweet, perfect Heather. But more importantly how Jimin was around Heather. How he couldn’t take his eyes off her, how he almost abandoned you for her, and how you almost couldn’t blame him.

Jimin starts to walk back over to your table with a coffee in one hand and a tea in the other. Placing the tea in front of you, you put a smile on your face as you thank him.

“So how have you been?” Jimin asks as he sits himself back down opposite you.

“Good,” you nod your head lightly before taking a small sip of your drink.

Jimin sighs. “What happened to us Y/N?”

You have to stop yourself from saying Heather, instead opting for, “life.”

“But I feel like nothing has changed in my life. So why do I feel like I never see you anymore?”

“Things change, people get busy, friends drift apart,” you shrug at him. You had promised yourself that you would lay all of your feelings out today, but the conversation was moving quicker than you had expected. You had imagined there would be at least some small talk before any of this.

Jimin stares you out from across the table, his eyes bore into yours and it doesn’t take long before your eyes drop from his to the table in front of you. You can feel his stare still on you and you feel like he is almost reading your mind.

“What aren’t you telling me?” His voice comes out soft. “What’s going on Y/N? I have known you for way too long to not realise that there is more to this than people simply drifting apart. I can feel you pulling away from me.”

“It’s not just me pulling away Jimin,” you look back at him and see his brow furrowed in confusion. “You may say you always have time for me, but we both know that’s not true. You have always been busy and I accept that, but recently, I guess new people have come into your life and you seem to have more time for them then for me.”

You had tried to skirt around it, never mentioning the actual name and you thought you had been subtle enough, however Jimins next words burst that bubble.

“So this is about Heather?”

Heat immediately rises to your face as the name leaves his lips. The way he said it made this whole thing seem stupid. It made you feel like you were making a massive deal out of nothing. So you simply shrug at his question, eyes avoiding him, the gesture telling Jimin everything he needed to know.

“Shit, Tae did say,” your eyes shoot up to him and you watch as he runs a hand over his face in frustration.

“What did Tae say?” You ask slightly panicked. Though you’d never told him, he made it very clear that he knew how you felt about Jimin, so you worry what he might have said.

“Oh nothing,” Jimin drops his hand back onto the table. “It doesn’t matter what he said. What matters is how stupid I’ve been.”

“You’ve not been stupid,” you say it barely above a whisper.

“I have been stupid,” he says. “I should have seen how I was hurting you. Heather is a friend, but that doesn’t excuse how I have treated you. I didn’t realise that you thought I was choosing to spend my time with her over you. I’m not trying to replace our friendship Y/N.”

“That’s not it,” you say, realising Jimin was still blind to how you felt, misunderstanding the reason behind your feelings. “You know, I still remember the 3rd of December 2 years ago. You probably don’t remember but you gave me your jumper.”

“I remember,” he jumps. “It looked better on you then it did on me,” you smile slightly at the words he repeated from the night in question.

“Yeah,” you say. “But I what you may not realise is how much those words affected me. How much I liked you. But then the other night I saw Heather in that very same jumper and that affected me in a completely different way,” you pause for a second and notice how Jimin is looking at you with concern in his eyes. You can almost see the clogs turning in his mind as you start to reveal your feelings towards him. “I see the way you look at her, like she’s brighter than the sky. And I can’t help but feel jealous, because that’s how I always dreamed that you would look at me,” you can feel yourself start to well up, but you try to push your feelings down as you finish. “So that’s why I pulled away. Because I realised I would never have that with you, and that’s fine. But I can’t stand around and watch it and pretend that I’m fine.”

There was more you wanted to say, but you didn’t want to bombard Jimin with everything. They were your feelings and although you wanted him to finally know how you felt you also didn’t want to make him feel guilty in any way for how you felt, because although he had caused them, it was not his fault. There’s a moments silence after you finish talking and you wonder if Jimin is ever going to respond.

“I didn’t know,” he finally says and you can hear the emotion in his voice.

“I hid it well,” you give a small chuckle that holds no humour.

“I wish you didn’t.”

You aren’t sure how to respond to that. You weren’t even sure if he expected a reply. So again the conversation falls silent and you both stare at each other, your leg starting the nervous bob it was doing earlier the longer the silence goes on.

Jimin take a long sip of his drink before finally speaking. “You know I remember that night too. I remember how cold it was even though I was wearing a jumper. And there you were with this thin jacket. I didn’t really think when I offered you my jumper and when you put it on I remember how good you looked in my clothes, how I wanted to see you in everything I owned, because I was sure anything would look better on you.”

Now it was your turn to stare blankly at Jimin, mind racing but also seeming to stop at his words. You understood every word but also failed to understand what he was saying.

“I guess I was blind or stupid or maybe I just didn’t want to believe that you may have felt the same way,” he continues. “Me and Heather are nothing. Were, nothing,” he corrects. “I think maybe I wanted to distract myself, try and take my mind off of you. But that was wrong of me. I didn’t think about how that would have hurt you, even if you only saw me as a friend, I was being selfish and I will forever be sorry for that.”

“I’ve already told you, you don’t need to apologise,” you say feebly.

“Well, I’m still sorry,” he gives you a small smile.

For a third time the conversation goes quiet between the two of you. Each of you take a sip of your drink and awkwardly stare at each other.

“So what now?” You ask.

“I guess I should ask you out on a date?” A larger, more genuine smile returns to Jimins face.

You can’t help the smile that comes to yours, but it falls when you remember, “what about Heather?”

“Like I said, we were nothing. She is a friend,” he says each word clearly and with emphasis as if it would help stop any of your insecurities. “So would you go on a date with me?”

You don’t answer immediately. Though you already knew your answer you didn’t want to leap into it, as if in the second pause you would think of a reason to back out.

“I’d like that,” you finally say.

“Great,” Jimin smiles so all of his teeth are on show, his eyes squinting so they almost fully close.

“But you need to tell me what Tae told you,” you remember his earlier comment.

“It was nothing,” Jimin laughs. “He just told me I was an idiot and needed to speak to you and not Heather.”

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mostlycompetentwriter · 3 years

Text

You Can STAY - Part 10

F/M Main Pairing: Y/N x Lee Felix (Side Pairing: Y/N x Stray Kids)

Genre: Fantasy AU; Scarlet Heart AU; OT8 SKZ

Warnings: Language; some mentions of mature content; violence; mentions of blood; major character death (uh-oh)

Summary: The King is challenged.

A/N: the gif doesn’t really fit but Jeongin does some hardcore stuff in this chapter

Tag List: @angelphantomlove @moonlightracha @jjabbur @pinkchcn @straykidbaby @moonnstars90 @dru-shadow @skzooyeet @xiaojunssmile

“He’s losing his mind.”

I glanced up at the seemingly innocuous comment, narrowing my eyes in deep thought as Felix laid down next to me in our shared bed. “What do you mean?” I asked, although I had a faint idea of his intentions.

“There are consequences to our actions,” Felix said. “I think Changbin has finally started to realize that for himself.”

I swallowed hard, studying the detailed ornamentation of Felix’s freckles. “Is he sick?”

“He’s something,” Felix grunted. “Told me the other night that he saw Seungmin walking into his bedroom.”

I immediately frowned. “Like...a ghost?”

“Yeah,” Felix said. “Exactly like a ghost.”

I scoffed at such a notion. “How long has he been seeing ghosts for?”

“Does it matter?” Felix asked. “He deserves to suffer after all the horrible shit he’s done to his family and the kingdom. Every time I see him in the Throne Room, I just want to wring his fucking neck. Make him earn those breaths he gets to take since he made the decision to take away Seungmin and Minho’s right to live.”

I shivered at the venom in Felix’s tone. But instead of the rage he felt, I only experienced a deep-settled sadness weighing on my bones. To the point where it was sometimes difficult to force myself up in the mornings. “We can only keep him accountable,” I said. “He won’t stay on the throne.”

“He might,” Felix muttered.

“It’s not meant to be,” I replied simply. “The rest of the Kingdom will see that.”

“When?” Felix huffed. “After he kills another one of my brothers?”

“He won’t hurt you,” I said. “And I don’t think he has plans to kill Jeongin.”

“Cuz’ he knows Jeongin is weak,” Felix said. “He doesn’t contribute to anything around here. All he does is visit Changbin in the evenings. Whatever it is they do alone in his chambers.”

“Is that where Jeongin is right now?” I asked.

“Last time I checked...” Felix trailed off, appearing slightly more anxious. “Yeah, he’s with Changbin.”

“Should we be worried?”

“I don’t think so,” Felix said, although I suspected it was more for my benefit than a statement of fact. “Jeongin can handle himself.”

“He’s a kid,” I grumbled. “I’m sure he’s scared and confused. The only reason he even gets to be here is because Changbin’s mother protected him.”

“Well, as long as she lives,” Felix said. “Jeongin will have a safe place, and he’s smart enough to know that.”

“And if she dies?”

Felix sighed. “Then I hope he’ll know to run, but that’s nothing to concern ourselves with right now.”

“I can’t help it,” I said, drawing myself closer to Felix for his reassuring warmth. “I want to take care of him.”

“I know, love,” Felix whispered, and I could feel his lips press a soothing kiss against the top of my head, providing me with only a faint inkling of hope when the rest of the world seemed to be growing darker.

Jeongin

Jeongin watched his brother as he slowly worked apart the buttons on his shirt: movements that seemed far too sluggish for a king in their prime.

“Are you alright, Changbin?” Jeongin asked.

“M’ tired,” Changbin said, and Jeongin didn’t even react when Changbin slumped down into the floor. “My head hurts again.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeongin whispered, hoping that it sounded more genuine that he felt. Or, maybe Changbin wouldn’t even notice.

But he was doing this for Chan and Jisung. For the family that Changbin had taken from him.

“I’ve prepared a bath for you.”

Changbin groaned, sliding his fingers through his graying hair. “I feel sick.”

“The bath will help,” Jeongin insisted, and he forced his feet to move across the floor to support Changbin by his arm, allowing his brother to lend most of his weight against Jeongin’s slimmer form, trying to control the shakiness threatening to ruin everything as he helped Changbin lower himself beneath the waters.

The smell of mercury was subtle, but Jeongin had done a good job of masking it with other bath scents. “Feels good,” Changbin slurred, and Jeongin resisted a smile at the glazed-over look in his brother’s eyes.

It was happening exactly as Chan had described it to him. When his oldest brother entrusted him to carry out this formidable task because he was one of the few people left who Changbin still trusted. Even if it was his mother’s intervention that permitted that trust in the first place.

But she would never know what had happened. Chan had shown him how to disguise the slow killing, to convince Changbin that it was his own guilt turning his body against him.

His own flesh and blood.

Dying more every night.

Slowly, but dying nonetheless.

Poisoned by Jeongin’s own hand.

“Tell me when it starts getting cold,” Jeongin whispered, and he made sure that Changbin was distracted before allowing a satisfied smirk to overtake the façade of practiced innocence that he had perfected for these moments.

Felix

There were already murmurings spreading through the Kingdom. Rumors of a madman on the throne, and Felix could do little to assuage the fears of their people when Changbin insisted on screaming at the top of his lungs at the most ungodly hours.

“He’s always fucking there!” Changbin had exclaimed before running for the coverage of his bed, and Felix hesitated, wondering if his brother would ruin himself after all.

“Who’s there?” Felix asked.

“Seungmin,” Changbin hissed, and his eyes were wild and bloodshot. Something savage and untamable. “He’s watching me.”

Felix swallowed hard, watching his brother start to cry as he begged their dead younger brother to leave him alone, apologizing over and over again for knocking the arrow that had pierced his heart.

“Seungmin is dead,” Felix said, and he made sure his tone was harsh, but firm. “You’re seeing things.”

“I’m not!” Changbin barked, and Felix thought that his tone didn’t quite match the harried expression on his face - the haunted look in his eyes.

“You said you needed to speak to me,” Felix sighed, deciding that it might be best to remind Changbin of other things besides their brother.

“I called for you hours ago,” Changbin growled. “Where were you?”

“I was with Y/N,” Felix said. “We had to...discuss some things.”

Changbin frowned at his pause. “You were fucking that girl,” he snapped, and Felix was appalled by his brother’s language.

“What’s your problem?” Felix asked. “She’s the Castle Mage!”

“She’s a whore!” Changbin shouted, and he was up on his feet in an instant, wobbling between his legs as he pointed a finger at Felix. “She’s distracting you!”

“That’s absurd!” Felix retorted.

“Is it?” Changbin questioned. “Because every time you come in here, you’re always bringing up that girl. Wanting to marry her and live a big fucking happily ever after.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Felix returned. “Should I not hold you to the promises you made?”

“I am the King!” Changbin screeched. “I can form and break promises whenever I want.”

“Oh?” Felix asked, narrowing his eyes. “What’s this all about, then?”

“I’ve decided that you won’t marry that girl,” Changbin growled, and Felix had never felt so furious in his entire life.

“The reason why I serve you, brother,” Felix said. “Is because of how much I love Y/N.”

“Should I get rid of her?” Changbin asked. “Then you won’t have anything to love.”

“Why would you want to turn me against you?” Felix howled.

“Don’t speak of disloyalty!” Changbin said. “I won’t tolerate this discussion any longer.”

“But what you promised me-”

“STOP!” Changbin screamed, and it was enough to startle Felix into silence. “Hyunjin sent another letter,” Changbin continued as if intentionally ignoring the foul mood he had brought upon his brother. “Go down South and meet with him. I need to ensure that our alliances are settled.”

“Why should I?” Felix challenged. “If you won’t officialize my wedding, then I have no reason to serve you anymore!”

“Felix!” Changbin sighed, and he turned away to slam his fist against the wall. “Don’t do this to me!”

“Do what? Hold you accountable!”

“Go find Hyunjin!” Changbin demanded, glaring over his shoulder. “Do this for me and I’ll reconsider my position.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Felix pointed out, but he stopped when he realized his brother was already drifting again, lowering himself back down onto his bed with a moan of pain. “Fine,” Felix relented. “I’ll speak to Hyunjin. But when I return, you better keep your word or you’ll lose me and Y/N!”

“I’ll have you killed!” Changbin protested, but they both knew his words held little conviction from a King who could barely stand on his own two feet.

The sun was disappearing behind the mountains when Felix returned to our shared room, pulling out his bag and grabbing several articles of clothing.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I have to go South,” Felix replied, and there was a determined look on his face as he continued to work.

“Leaving?” I questioned, watching Felix start to fold his belongings. “Why?”

“Changbin wants me to find Hyunjin,” Felix grumbled. “Something about securing our alliances.”

“Did he not read the letter?” I asked. “The South wants nothing to do with Changbin.”

“I have to do as he says,” Felix sighed, and I was surprised by his insistence.

“They see an illegitimate King,” I continued. “He’s wasting your time.”

“I know,” Felix groaned, and he straightened up long enough to draw me closer. “I’m doing this for us, okay? Changbin has the power to wed us, whether we like it or not.”

“But it’s not worth it if he keeps delaying his promise,” I pointed out, pulling away from Felix’s arms to storm over to the window. “I think he’s lying.”

“We have no other option,” Felix said. “What would you have me do?”

I swallowed hard, gazing out over the Kingdom at night. “Go find Hyunjin,” I said, feeling the fight leave every inch of my body. “But when you return, you will insist on our union or we’ll take matters into our own hands.”

“I agree,” Felix said, and I could feel him walk up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I won’t be gone long.”

“It’s always too long,” I lamented, turning around to face him and see the familiar look of love reflected in his emerald gaze.

Felix left that evening, and I decided to take a walk amongst the gardens since I would worry about him non-stop until he returned.

Up ahead in the Northern tower, I could see that Changbin’s candle was still glowing, and I wondered what he must be thinking, wasting away into whatever sickness had claimed him.

Still, it was mostly quiet and calm on the grounds, and I was walking with a thousand louder thoughts racing through my head.

But I should’ve known better than to embrace complacency, pausing when I heard a whispered utterance of my name. “Y/N! Over here.”

I frowned, following the voice to the nearby shelter of the Holly bushes, attempting to peer into the branches. “Hello?”

For a moment, there was no response, but then the leaves started to rattle and I took a step back with my magic instinctively warming for my command. But nothing could’ve left me colder than the familiar sight of Chan and Jisung emerging from the bushes.

“Chan?” I gasped. “Jisung?”

“There you are,” Jisung said, smiling in spite of our surroundings, gathering me into his arms for a fierce hug. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” I replied, and I couldn’t help but savor the embrace.

“We need to get inside the Castle,” Chan said, interrupting the moment with a heavy exhale, and I felt my metaphorical hackles rise as I turned to face him.

“Are you insane?” I hissed, watching as Chan and Jisung exchanged glances. “You’ll be killed.”

“It’s fine,” Jisung said, trying to reassure me by drawing his fingers through my hair. “We have someone on the inside.”

I frowned, but it only took me a moment to process what he meant. “Jeongin.”

Chan nodded, and there was something truly frightening about the look in his eyes. “Jeongin’s been poisoning him,” Chan explained with an insane look of delight. “I taught him how to disguise mercury in his baths.”

The implications of his charges hit me all at once, and I knew that nothing would ever be the same after this night. “You’re killing Changbin?!!”

“Jeongin will finish him tonight,” Jisung said, and I was horrified to see him miming a dagger striking above his heart.

“We’ll take the Castle back,” Chan said, but I shook my head because I couldn’t believe that the three siblings had plotted this together!

“You’re no better than Changbin,” I said, marching up to Chan to smash my palm against his chest. “Killing is never the answer.”

“Changbin did the same!” Chan scowled. “We need to take back the Kingdom!”

“Not dishonorably!”

“As if Changbin is in power because he was so honorable,” Jisung scoffed, and I realized that there would be no changing their minds.

Meanwhile, I could hear screaming from the northern tower, and there was a sudden flurry of movement as the guards started to shout out their orders.

“It’s time,” Chan said, and there was nothing but ice in my veins as I had no choice but to follow the brothers inside.

Felix

Felix was ready to leave, horses fed and watered, and belongings stacked neatly on the back of his saddle.

But that all changed with a scream.

Immediately, Felix was on high alert, catching sight of the guards running inside from the stables. “The king’s been attacked!” one of them shouted, and Felix didn’t need to hear another word before he was abandoning his previous assignment. All thoughts of Hyunjin and the Southern territories were gone in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N!”

I paused at the familiar sound of Felix’s voice, nearly crying in relief when I realized that he hadn’t left yet. “Changbin’s been hurt,” I said, falling into his arms because there wasn’t much strength left in my trembling legs.

“I know,” Felix growled, and he didn’t say much else before pulling me along behind him, barking out orders to the guards as he ignored their warnings and forced his way into Changbin’s private chambers.

It was a sight I would never forget, nearly losing what was left in my stomach at the sight of all the blood staining his bed sheets, and the dagger still protruding from his chest. “Felix!” Changbin gurgled, and there was a fresh stream of blood trickling from the side of his mouth.

Felix frowned, pushing aside the guard and doctor who had been attending to his brother. “Who did this?” Felix demanded.

“Jeongin,” Changbin hissed, and I could see the surprise evident in Felix’s eyes.

“Jeongin?”

“Did I stutter?” Changbin snarled, and I was impressed that he could still sound so intimidating when it was clear that death was upon him.

“Why would he do that?” Felix wondered, but it less for Changbin and more of a general shock from the situation rapidly unfolding.

“Listen to me,” Changbin hissed, coughing and heaving around every harsh intake of oxygen. “You know I’ll die from this.”

“How could he do this?” Felix continued, and I wanted to reach over and shake him from whatever disorientation was clouding his judgment.

But Changbin was already a step ahead.

“Fuck them all,” Changbin growled, holding tight to Felix’s arm as he brought his brother closer. “They’ve hated you since your birth, Felix. Do this one last thing for me: take the throne out of spite.”

“The throne?” Felix repeated, and I froze on the spot, realizing the vast implications for what this would bring.

“Avenge me!” Changbin said, but I made sure to send him a knowing look right before he closed his eyes: I would never allow Felix to committ such evil. Especially after that vision from so long ago where he stood above them all. Blood beneath his feet.

“Changbin?” Felix whispered, and I was surprised by the timidity in his tone, watching Felix close his eyes and take a staggered deep breath.

“It’s up to me,” he said, tone a little bit firmer as he glanced over at me before turning around to address the room’s occupants.

“I’m in charge now,” Felix shouted, and the guards nearby immediately knelt down onto one knee. “Find Jeongin!” Felix continued. “Bring him to me!”

“And the others, sir?” one of the guards asked. “What about Chan and Jisung?”

I was shivering violently, holding myself as I watched Felix’s expression shift into something dark and sinister. “What did you say?”

“Y-your other brothers,” the guard repeated, albeit much more hesitantly.

“They had a part in this?” Felix growled, and I recognized the turning point - the moment when Felix felt their betrayal.

“I know you’re furious with them,” I quickly intervened, holding my breath when Felix started to shake his head, refusing to listen before I could make my case.

“Did you know about this?” he asked instead.

“I didn’t until tonight when I found them in the gardens,” I said. “I tried to tell them that murder would lead to nothing good but-”

“But nothing!” Felix interfered with a harsh curse. “They went behind my back to try and throw Changbin off the throne,” he said.

“Yes, but they were upset and confused, Felix,” I insisted. “Changbin killed Minho and Seungmin. They wanted revenge, even if that wasn’t the answer.”

“So, are you suggesting that I let them free even though I’m King now?” Felix asked.

“A King stands up for his people!”

“Not when they show him such little regard,” Felix retorted, and he started for the door.

“Don’t do this,” I whispered, tugging on Felix’s sleeve as he continued to look straight ahead.

“Bring them to me,” Felix went on, and I was disappointed and heartbroken that he had ignored me. “Bring me my brothers.”

Felix was stagnant and unmoving, talking in rapid tones to his guards as he ordered me to remain silent.

The treatment was completely unlike him, but I held my tongue in the hope that he would see reason.

Of course, that all changed the moment Jisung, Chan, and Jeongin walked into the room, inviting a suffocating silence that persisted until Felix stepped forward. “Is this how you envisioned your plot to end?” he asked them.

And for a moment, I was afraid that none of them would respond. “No, Felix,” Chan eventually said. “We planned to allow the people to choose our next King.”

Felix scoffed. “Really? This wasn’t self-motivated?”

Chan shook his head, looking up with a determined stare. “We wanted to avenge Seungmin and Minho.”

“Well, that wasn’t your place, was it?” Felix snarled, and Chan was clearly caught off-guard by his brother’s tone.

“Felix, this is what we all wanted-”

“I never asked you to go behind my back!” Felix interrupted, and electricity crackled throughout the room.

“We had to plan in secrecy!”

“Jeongin knew!” Felix countered. “You had him play the part of the executioner!”

“Felix, we couldn’t risk your safety!”

“That’s not what it was,” Felix growled, and he was pacing the room, fuming as he grumbled nonsense to himself.

But then he stopped, standing up straight and sending a glare to his three battle-wearied brothers. “The three of you,” he said, pointing a finger at each of them. “Get the hell out of my kingdom.”

“No!” I cried, attempting to rise from the bed, but one of the guards held me down.

“Felix,” Jeongin sniffled, and my heart could barely handle his grief.

“The fault is with all of you!” Felix huffed. “You can suffer the consequences together.”

His word was final, and I watched as they all turned to leave out the door with a pair of guards following behind them.

“And if you see Hyunjin,” Felix added. “Tell him that he can stay in the South.”

The sentence was harsh, and the doors to the chamber echoed shut in the dead King’s quarters.

It was later that night, sitting alone in my shared room with Felix, when the man in question finally joined me.

“I’m sorry for my harsh words earlier,” he said, attempting a softer tone as his fingers traced the seam of my lips. “My brothers had to punished.”

“No, they didn’t,” I said, and there was a flicker of anger in Felix’s gaze before the emerald was calm once again.

He took my hand in his own. “You can marry me because I’m King, Y/N,” Felix said, breathing a kiss across my upturned palm.

But just as quick, I snatched my hand away from his grasp. “No,” I said as calmly as possible.

Felix frowned. “No?”

“If you keep your brothers exiled,” I hissed. “Then you’ll never have me.”

Felix shook his head, clearly thrown by my ultimatum. “You need to be careful with your words...”

“Are you threatening me now?”

Felix sighed. “You’ll see in time why I had to exile them. Until that point, I will keep loving you, Y/N. I’ll wait for you to see reason and give us both what we want.”

I scowled at his words, waiting until he was gone from the room before laying back on the bed. “We’ll never get what we want now.”

Because too much had changed.

#stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids series #felix fanfic #felix scenarios #felix imagines #stray kids felix fanfic #skz felix fanfic #skz felix imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #mostlycompetent

38 notes · View notes

icefire149 · 3 years

Text

An Angel’s Vow

[Dean/Castiel - Season 12 divergence where Cas was the only one with Kelly when she gave birth and he goes on the run/in hiding with baby Jack. He’s trying his hardest to be a good dad.]

Chapter One - (Or Read on AO3)

It was the third car he ditched, and the fourth he’d stolen today. Cas knew that he was being excessive at this point, especially with the erratic out of the way routes and doubling back he’d been doing in case he was being followed. He couldn’t afford a mistake. Not now.

His gaze slid over to the rear-view mirror for probably the thousandth time today. Still, there in his eye line was Jack sleeping in his car seat. The sight unnerved him every time.

Reading books, watching videos, taking online classes were all one thing, but...actually taking care of a child was a completely different experience. Jack wasn’t even twenty-four hours old yet, and Cas had already frozen in panic and broke down crying more times than he’d care to admit.

They crossed over the state line into Washington. Cas’ grip tightened on the steering wheel. What he wanted most was to be going in the opposite direction. To an extent, yes, the Men of Letters Bunker would be safe for Jack, but nowhere was going to offer the protection they needed from Heaven. His body ached to head for Kansas, because after these last several years on Earth, Cas was starting to associate the feeling of home with the Winchesters. And home was something he badly wanted for Jack.

The sun was rising when they drove up to the small cabin in North Cove. Cas parked the car, but he didn’t move from his seat. Guilt was coiling and tightening around his throat for the entire drive, but it was only now with the house looming over him that he desperately felt like clawing for air. It wasn’t fair what happened to Kelly.

The next several weeks were bumpy. Jack was definitely growing faster than human babies his age, but no where near as fast as Amara. Whether any of that was a good or a bad thing, Cas had no idea. The nephilim was an utter mystery to him. At the very least, as far as Cas could tell...Jack was a happy baby.

That was the only thing that kept Cas grounded while he tried to master the finesse of diaper changes, formula, and wrangling wiggling baby limbs. What didn’t help was the disharmonious tune of longing encircling him. Some days it was quiet like a lullaby, but others it was erratic and thunderous. The worse days were the ones where there was nothing at all.

It stung, but he knew that Dean wasn’t intentionally praying to him. He would if he absolutely needed to, but Dean was stubborn. Cas figured that even if Jack was aware of the situation, his reasoning skills were sufficient enough to surmise Dean was angry and that he wanted Cas to return to the bunker just so he could be told exactly so.

Castiel was in no mood to be chastised for doing exactly what Dean would do if the situation was reversed. The man’s double standards were maddening.

Today though was different. Cas was busy at the kitchen sink washing dishes when he heard a whisper. Castiel? Are you there? He dropped the small bowl that was in his hand. It splashed soapy water back up at him. You better be alive.

He stood there waiting for several minutes after that, but there was nothing else to the prayer. That was it. Cas picked up the dish towel on the counter and dried his hands, looking over his shoulder at Jack in his high chair.

Jack’s smile widened when they made eye contact. He started lightly tapping the palms of his hands on the tray part of the chair.

“Is it okay if I make a quick phone call?”

Jack’s head tilted to the side while he babbled.

The soft smile on Cas’ face grew. “I know. I know. We’re supposed to be off the grid hiding.” Cas dug his cell phone out of his coat’s inside pocket. He looked at the black screen before looking back at the baby. “It’ll only be for a minute. And after all this time there’s no way anyone is watching close enough to find us, right?”

Jack continued to babble away while he tried to wave every limb he could. Even his metaphysical wings.

Cas couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. He knew this was Jack’s way of signaling he would like to be released from the chair’s confinement. “Can you wait until I’m done with my phone call, and then we can sit in the other room? It won’t be long.”

Jack stopped his wiggling and went back to rubbing the palms of his hands all over the chair. Cas took that as a, yes. Sighing, he leaned his back against the edge of the counter and turned his phone on.

It came to life and buzzed erratically for a couple minutes. Cas wasn’t sure what to do other than wait for it to stop. Even Jack was eyeing the phone oddly. Eventually, the buzzing ceased and Cas discovered that he had: over a dozen missed calls, tons of text messages, and a couple voice mails.

He groaned. It was bad enough that he had to keep track of the phone at all times, but what he really hated were the angry, red notification icons. So Cas did what he had to and cleared them out. All the missed calls were from Dean and they were consistent. He never went more than four days without calling. Cas opened the text messages next. The majority were again, from Dean.

Cas opened the ones from Sam first: Hey, I know you’re doing what you think is best but please pick up the phone once in a while.

Hey, is there any chance you can let Dean win the competition for being the most stubborn bastard this time and call him back? He’s driving me insane.

I saw on the news an aerial shot of the blast zone. I hope you and the baby are safe. Send us any kind of sign that you’re okay. Please.

It was too much. Grief battered into him in an unforgiving wave. Cas put the phone down and plucked Jack from his chair. He held the baby close to his chest. “We’re okay,” he whispered. “We’re okay. We’re okay. We’re okay.”

And they were. And so was Sam….and Dean. But not Kelly. It was inevitable. They all knew that, but still….Cas hoped that there would still be something he could try.

For now he was just grateful that he had the foresight to get Kelly far enough away from the cabin before Jack was born. He knew that she wouldn’t survive the birth. He knew that it was likely going to alert every angel, demon, and curious moron in creation, but he still wasn’t prepared for what occurred. The power blast….atomized her and tore apart tons of trees in the wooded area. He couldn’t imagine what the sight was that Sam saw on the news.

The tiny fist pounding into his collarbone finally snapped Cas out of his thoughts. Tilting his head down, he saw Jack’s big blue eyes intently staring into him. “We’re safe,” Cas whispered. He kissed the top of Jack’s head. “Everything’s fine.”

Cas went back to the counter and retrieved his phone. He brought Jack into the living room and they sat in the rocking chair by the window. The moment Jack caught a glimpse of a bird flying by, he was entranced by the window. Cas hung onto him with one hand while he stared at his phone.

There were still messages to read. He opened Dean’s: Where ARE you?

We’re not gonna do anything to the kid, okay? Removing their grace was just an idea.

I DO get it. You know that right?

The ship has sailed stopping the kid from being born. We’re not gonna let anyone go Old Testament on the kid. Besides the bunker has more than enough warding.

We’ll figure something out.

PpiECE o f shit. PICCJ UPP

What did Satan jr do? Tear down the nearest cell tower?

Come on Cas.

Are you even getting any of these?

Call me back NOW.

We’re not dead in case you care.

WHAT HAPPENED?

It looks like a bomb went off. That’s what the news is calling it.

I know you’re not dead. You’re too damn stubborn to die in a blast like that.

Cas.

It took several deep breaths before Cas felt calmer. Knowing Dean, any of that could have been worse. He scrolled back up through the messages again, trying to piece together the timeline of each one. We’re not dead in case you care. That one in particular concerned him most.

Cas ruffled Jack’s sandy brown hair. Jack leaned back and stared up at him making a couple happy noises. He looked back at the phone again. Dean could hate him for the rest of his life and that would be okay, because that meant he was safe enough to live that long. And Castiel could live with that.

He listened to the voice mails next: Cas, buddy, I…...I don’t want to be having this conversation like this. Those British assholes started killing us...the hunters. Everyone we know is fine….as far as I know. But….Cas, I really need to know that they didn’t get you. There was a long pause where Cas assumed the message was over. He held onto Jack tighter. Cas….they trapped Sammy and me in the bunker. Sealed us in...to suffocate. There was another pause, and Cas felt cold. He knew they were fine. They sent messages after this voice mail was made. He felt like he was the one suffocating. I’m sorry.

The next one started on it’s own before Cas could even try to pull himself together. You don’t get to do this. You’re either laying low in hiding right now or you’re in pieces from whatever happened in that blast zone. Did you ever stop to think ho- Cas felt himself lean forward, wondering where the thought was going before Dean cut himself off. He strained to pick up any sound, but there was only silence. Come on, man. Pick up your damn phone. Pick up any phone. And that was it.

Cas felt like he was being held together by one frayed thread. The part of him choking on guilt was begging it to snap, but the baby lightly kicking the heels of his feet into Cas’ thighs gave him enough reason to keep moving forward. He had more responsibilities and worth now than being the Winchester’s bulwark. Castiel hoped that one day they would understand that.

“Okay, Jack.” His voice came out strained while he turned Jack around to look at him easier. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I can’t put off making that phone call anymore. Wish me luck.”

Jack’s big blue eyes stared at him intently.

“Your wish is received. Loud and clear,” Cas said getting up and crossing the room to Jack’s playpen. It was made of rainbow pastel colored panels with star decorations. He placed Jack down in the safety of the pen, and then Jack immediately latched onto the foot of a plush lion doll.

Cas went back into the kitchen. He paced the room, again and again. The whole time his eyes were glued on the name in his contact list. Finally, he tapped the name and the line started ringing. Cas held his breath, worried that he was only going to make things worse.

It rang, and rang, and rang. And then, “Castiel?”

“Hello, Claire.”

#spn #supernatural #castiel #destiel #Jack Kline #baby jack truthing #An Angel's Vow #my writing #this is my dadstiel fic #enjoy

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