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silver-tongued-bby · 3 years

Text

Discretion

Pairing: Dom!CEO!Loki x Reader

Summary: After dropping out of grad school and moving back home you expected very little of your summer. That is until you realise your neighbour, Mr. Laufeyson, has other plans. Set in the mid 90s!

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!! This is a Dom!Loki fic - though it's not super bd/sm heavy, it explores themes of voyeurism, dub!con spanking, humiliation and degradation. Sexual acts are described including vaginal fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving) and sexual intercourse (f/m). Smoking is also described. Please read at your own discretion (hehe see what I did there?).

Words: 5,026

Author's Note: I'm excited to say that this is my first ever submission for a challenge! Specifically it's for @boxofbonesfic's Hot Girl Summer Challenge.

I chose prompt 12 (Home for the Summer) and a slightly edited version of quote 17 ("If I have to tell you again to take that off, you’re not gonna like me sweetheart darling.") then for kinks I chose voyeurism/exhibitionism and degradation though there's a sprinkling of praise kink in there too.

Not sure why when I think of summer I think of mid 90s summers but here we are. This kinda went places I didn't expect, nonetheless I hope you enjoy!

...

God you were bored.

Stretching out on the lounge chair you sighed, letting your shoulders droop with the long exhale.

“Oh honey, you can’t keep sitting out here in the sun.” Your eyes rolled behind your dark sunglasses, turning towards your stepmother as she came down the stairs from the deck of the house.

“It’ll give you wrinkles dear,” she was standing beside you now, hands on her hips as she stared down at you. She was wearing that ridiculous hat again- the one with the brim as wide as she was tall.

“Carla, darling, we can’t all hide away from life in hopes to look as good as you do.” You lazily gazed at her, sitting up to find your pack of cigarettes on the side table. Taking one out you brought it to your mouth and lit it with your gold plated zippo. You took a long inhale before exhaling right in her face, “when I tell people you’re 53 they can hardly believe it.” Her eyes widened- you’d found her drivers license months ago and held the knowledge of her true age over her since then. You continued, ”my compliments to your doctors. Oh and Botox, kudos to Botox.”

Her little hands formed fists, fake nails pressing tiny neon-pink crescents into her palm.

You laughed, lounging back in the chair as you leisurely took drags off your cigarette. Smiling to yourself as you counted- three, two, one, before Carla shrieked and turned.

“Arthur! Arthur!” She screeched, running back up the stairs to tell your father.

You were a little less bored now, but making Carla’s face turn red could only give you so much satisfaction. You knew your father could care less, they were both about to leave for the Côte D’Azur tomorrow for the rest of the summer, leaving you here alone to “consider the consequences of your actions.” Or however your father had put you dropping out of school after one year of graduate studies in Classics.

He couldn’t help himself from belittling your degree while you were studying, then once you’d decided it wasn’t for you his lectures changed to be about “never giving up” and “seeing something through.” You both knew he simply didn’t want you around- he just couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

“Now those will definitely give you wrinkles,” you heard a smooth, silky voice coming from behind you that made your heart race. Smiling, you swung your legs over the side of your chair, taking off your sunglasses and snuffing out your cigarette.

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you started, eyeing the lithe figure as he emerged from the shadows. He held his hands in his pockets, his crisp black trousers fit perfectly to his frame. The sleeves of his black dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the pale skin of his toned forearms. You were well aware of the small scraps of white fabric covering your body, and you enjoyed watching his eyes trace over your skin. You’d lusted after him ever since your father had moved here during your first year of college. You’d met him at one of Carla’s Christmas parties- she invited everyone from the gated community over, including your neighbour, Loki Laufeyson.

“I’m so sorry if my stepmother’s incessant shrieking ruined your afternoon,” you grimaced, taking a sip of the ice cold vodka soda beside you. “Is there anything I can do to remedy the situation?” you asked, your eyes innocently meeting his.

He chuckled. “Oh I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve already thought of something,” he said under his breath loud enough for you to just make out. He strolled towards you and took a seat on the lounge chair beside yours. “I’m actually here to see your Father. He’s asked me to check in on things here while him and Carla are away.”

You rolled your eyes- of course he did. You caught Mr. Laufeyson staring at you as you did that, his expression darkening slightly and his eyebrow raising before he continued. “I am surprised to see you here- last I’d heard you were studying in Europe. Graduate studies in Classics, right?”

“Yeah. It didn’t exactly pan out.” You looked down, cursing yourself for feeling your face grow hot. The last thing you needed was your gorgeous neighbour feeling sorry for you.

“Laufeyson you bastard, you’re late!” Your Father was coming down the stairs, jovial with his greeting.

Loki got up from his seat to meet your father. “Arthur,” he said, shaking his hand. “My apologies, I got held up at the office. It’s been insanity since the new acquisition.”

You tuned out the rest of the business jargon and settled back into your seat, facing the other way. You put your sunglasses back on, wincing once your heard Carla’s shrill voice coming from above.

“Is that Loki Laufeyson? Oh it’s been ages!” she gushed.

“I suppose it has.” You could tell she’d pulled him in for a hug and a kiss on either cheek. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself at the clear discomfort in his voice.

“So I can trust you to keep an eye on the place?” your father chimed in.

“Certainly, although it seems your daughter is perfectly capable of doing so herself.” Mr. Laufeyson rightfully pointed out. You raised an eyebrow, wishing you could see the expression on your dear dad’s face from your position. Mr. Laufeyson was probably the only person in this community that could and would tell your Father that- his annual appearance in Forbes certainly cemented the position.

“You never know with kids, Laufeyson. No matter how old they get you can’t trust them to carry through with something. Just wait until you have one of your own- then you’ll know what I’m talking about." He laughed loudly. You scoffed. Fucking asshole.

“I see. I’ll keep an eye out then.” Mr. Laufeyson said cooly.

“Right well feel free to pop by anytime, we leave tomorrow morning. Here’s the number of my cellular telephone- I always have it on me you know.” Your father was obsessed with his clunky mass of plastic- he brought it everywhere he went, mostly to brag about it to strangers or talk obnoxiously on it to avoid conversations with you or Carla.

“He really does. Even in the bedroom!” Carla giggled, causing you to shudder in disgust.

“Of course, well I should be on my way.” He stepped back over to you. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you around. Here’s my information,” he placed a thick, black and white business card onto the small table beside you. “In case of emergency.”

You pulled your sunglasses down your nose and slid your eyes up his body, biting your lip as you met his stare. “I’ll be sure to remember. See you around, Mr. Laufeyson.”

He considered you for a moment and you thought he was about to say something else before he nodded and turned, heading for the gate.

You settled back in your seat and nestled the headphones of your discman over your ears. You pressed the play button, the beat of Mariah Carey’s “Fantasy” drowning out whatever Carla and your father were arguing about once their guest had left.

...

It was much later that evening that you finally slipped from your room to find some dinner. The house was dark- you knew your father and Carla had an early flight. Grabbing a wrapped plate from the fridge that the housekeeper had left you you headed to the back deck to eat. You kept the lights off as you watched the dim foamy white of the ocean’s waves hitting the rocks below, finding peace in the sound.

Finishing your meal you were about to head inside when you saw a light come on out of the corner of your eye. From where you were sitting you could see into a room on the top floor of Mr. Laufeyson’s house. Interesting- you’d never seen into this room before, the windows that faced your father’s house were usually shuttered. You laid back and lit a cigarette, choking on the inhale when you saw Mr. Laufeyson emerge, shirtless, his eyes dark and hungry. He was pulling a woman behind him, a blonde, her shirt unbuttoned to expose a lacy red bra. Once he stood at the edge of the bed he turned around to kiss her, his hands moving to the clasp of her bra. Undoing it, he pulled away to slide it down her arms before turning her around and unzipping her skirt, leaving her in just a high waisted red lace thong.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. You were transfixed by the scene unfolding in front of you. He flung her on the bed- from your position you could see it all as if it were happening in a room adjacent to yours. Climbing over her he dipped his head to capture her lips once more as he ground against her. Your legs clenched together as you continued to smoke your cigarette, the combined effect of the nicotine and the scene in front of you making your head spin.

His hand trailed down to the red lace covering her heat as he continued to kiss and grind against her. Slipping his fingers in you found you were doing the same to yourself, feeling the hot wet of your arousal. He had pulled away from her now, watching her face intently as her back arched up off of the mattress, her hands clutching his toned arms. He was saying something to her, his eyes going from her face to her heaving breasts as he continued to work his hand inside of her. A flush was blooming on her chest, her mouth open and her eyebrows drawn together. You were moving your hand in time with his, your arousal coating your fingers. His movements became faster as he continued to speak to her, smiling menacingly before her back arched fully off the bed, her hands grasping at him. Withdrawing from the dampened red lace his fingers glistened in the light, wet from her release.

He easily picked her up off the bed, carrying her to the window sill. He roughly pulled her panties down before he undid his trousers then lined himself up at her entrance. He pressed into her, her back flat against the glass and his face visible beside the back of her head, his eyes closed. You imagined how it’d feel, the cool glass against your back, his warm hand firmly gripping your thigh, his strong arms holding your legs open as he fucked you. He began to move inside of her then his eyes opened, staring straight at you in the darkness. Your heart beat faster as you felt yourself blush- surely he couldn’t see you out here, you were shrouded in the dark. You could barely see the outline of your hand as you brought it to your face for another puff. You froze- the cigarette.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hissed, quickly removing your hand from its position and shakily putting out the cigarette on your dinner plate. Sliding your chair out quietly you chanced one last look towards the window- he was smirking in your direction as he continued to move against the blonde. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you backed away towards the porch door. You could swear his eyes didn’t leave you once and it sent shudders through you. You made your way back to your room and lay awake for hours, each time you closed your eyes you saw his piercing blue-green stare and filthy smirk.

You must have drifted off at some point since you eventually awoke to silence- an anomaly. You’d usually wake to Carla’s screeching laugh as she spoke on the phone to her friends, or she’d send the housekeeper Marie to wake you. You checked the clock beside you- 9AM. Carla and your father were long gone by now.

You smiled at that, stretching lazily before cranking the radio and dancing around your room as you got ready, the sunlight beaming in through your window. Making your way to the main kitchen you froze, last night coming back to you. The way Mr. Laufeyson had looked out at you as if he were expecting you to be there. Did he leave the blinds open on purpose? You shook your head, no way he’d be that forward. Sure he flirted with you every now and then, but nothing beyond that. You pushed the thought from your mind for the rest of the day.

...

A week passed quickly, you spent a lot of time with your friends, going shopping, to the beach, or local restaurants. You didn’t spend much time around the house so you hadn’t seen Mr. Laufeyson since the “incident”. On Friday you met up with some friends midday and got a ride to one of their parents’ beach houses. You spent the day there, drinking and laughing as you enjoyed the sun. Your friends dropped you back off at your place at around 7pm, you were pleasantly buzzed but looking forward to a quiet night in.

It was so hot outside you decided to take a dip in the pool. Cranking the radio in the backyard you decided to skinny dip- no one was home anyways. You sighed as your heated skin met the water, cooling instantly. You did a few laps before lazily swimming a backstroke and humming the music on the radio when you saw something coming towards you out of the corner of your eye. Standing upright you saw Mr. Laufeyson walking towards you from the door to the backyard, a smirk playing at his lips. Your heart started beating quickly as you realised the position you were in, remembering his hungry stare from last week. You swam over to the side of the pool to meet him.

“Hi,” he smiled, looking down at you.

You bit your lip and innocently looked up at him. “Hello, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“I’m sorry to intrude.”

“No worries. Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Laufeyson?” you asked, noticing his eyes taking in your body under the water. He definitely knew you were naked. Your thighs clenched together at the thought.

“I was coming to see you about something that happened last week that had me… concerned. I thought I saw someone out on the balcony, late at night. Was that you?”

You felt your cheeks grow hot, your heartbeat picking up to a mile a minute. “What day was this?”

“Last week Friday.” His face was serious as he strolled over to a pool chair, pulling it closer to the side and taking a seat.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think anyone was out there then.” The words came out a lot quicker than you’d meant. You were usually pretty good at lying but something in his voice made you want to tell him the truth, to please him.

He tsked. “I’ve seen you lie better than that. Try again darling.” He sounded bored as he reached for your pack of cigarettes on the side table. He raised an eyebrow in question as he drew out a cigarette. You nodded, nervously biting your lip as he lit it and crossed his legs, leisurely smoking while he stared you down.

“No words, little one?” he teased, smirking down at you. “Did you at least enjoy the show?”

You huffed- this was humiliating. How dare he? You found anger quickly overtaking your initial shock and embarrassment as you made your way to the pool stairs and got out. You raised an eyebrow at him and smiled when the smirk slid off his face at the sight of your naked, wet body. Two can play this game. Walking over to him you grabbed a towel off the chair and wrapped it around yourself.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply here,” you grabbed the cigarette from between his long, muscular fingers and took a long drag. “But I didn’t see you last Friday night. And I definitely didn’t see you fucking that blonde-” your eyes widened at your own confession.

He stood to his full height and stepped closer to you, looking down at you once more. You backed up a step, feeling the lounge chair behind you.

“Drop the towel,” he growled, the hungry look in his eyes fully directed at you this time.

“Listen-“ you started to explain yourself.

“Drop. The. Towel.” He enunciated each word with his crisp accent and perfect voice.

“I knew it- I knew you wanted to fuck me.” You smirked at him triumphantly as you took another drag.

“If I have to tell you again to take that off, you’re not gonna like me darling,” he threatened, stepping closer.

“Oh really?” You laughed, taunting him. “And what are you going to do, Mr. Laufeyson?” You blinked innocently at him, enjoying the way the muscles in his jaw clenched.

Suddenly he grabbed your jaw, firmly but not painfully as he brought his face inches from yours, your eyes locked.

“You fucking brat.” He roughly pulled the towel down, exposing your body to the warm air. He pinched the cigarette from your fingers, extinguishing it under his shoe on the concrete. “I’m going to have to teach you some manners, aren’t I?”

Before you could answer he spun you both around and sat on the lounge chair then pulled you over his lap, angling you so your top half rested on the chair, your hips over his. One hand firmly held your lower back in place, the other smoothed over the skin of your ass and you squirmed. His hand came down to spank you, hard. “First lesson- don’t fucking move until I tell you to.” You whined, your face burning.

His hand came down again in the same spot, causing you to hiss and grip the plastic of the chair in one hand and his thigh in the other. “Second lesson- always answer me.”

You were humiliated but you found yourself growing even more wet with each spank. First there was the pain, then a wave of pleasure that intensified when he smoothed his hand over the skin he’d hit.

He gave you another slap, “what did I just say?” He growled, his hand roughly gripping the skin this time.

“T-to always answer you.” Your voice was small as you stuttered, overwhelmed by the way he was making you feel.

“Good girl.” You'd felt a tiny swell of pride at that. “I’m going to spank you three more times. Count them for me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, worried if you didn’t answer he’d add more to the list. His hand came down on your other cheek, hard and fast.

“One,” you counted, taking a deep breath. Before you could forcibly relax your tense muscles his hand had struck your cheek once more, causing you to hiss.

Your finger tips were pressing into his thigh as you let out a breath, the sharp pain receding. “Two,” you licked your lips and tensed in anticipation of the third and final slap.

After a few seconds you relaxed then turned to catch his eye- he was darkly observing you with his jaw clenched. Suddenly he hit the skin once more, this time the hardest, causing you to cry out.

You composed yourself with a quick breath. “Three.”

“Well done, darling.” He was gently running over the sore skin with his large hands. You could feel his erection under you.

“I wish you could see how lovely you looked on my lap, taking your spanking so well.” He dipped his hand between your legs. You sucked in a breath when you felt his fingers brush along your wet slit causing you to writhe on his lap.

“My poor, little thing. You’re dripping,” his voice was pure sin as he brought his glistening fingers up to your face.

He shifted, his strong grip helping you off his lap so you stood before him on shaky legs. You bit your lip, face growing hot as suddenly became fascinated with your fingers, twisting them painfully.

He stood then, and brought his finger under your chin to guide your eyes to his. He wore a satisfied expression, a slight grin at his lips as he took in your naked form.

“Do you think you’ve learnt your lesson darling?” He asked, his eyes mocking yours.

You quickly nodded, feeling fully exposed in front of his fully clothed form.

He licked his lips. “Do you want to go upstairs so I can fuck you?”

Your cheeks burnt as you nodded quickly again.

“Answer me darling,” he dropped his hand from your chin.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

A slow, filthy grin spread across his face. “Lead the way,” he motioned towards the stairs.

You bent to reach for your towel on the ground. “Ah, ah, no need for that darling.” His words stopped you. You shivered as you stood back up, another wave of heat pulsing through your core.

You tentatively walked up the steep stairs and he followed closely behind. You could feel his gaze on you with each step.

Once up on the patio you looked back at him, his eyes dark with hunger. You gave him a shy smile before leading him inside. You stopped- should you bring him to your bedroom?

Before you could finish your thought he slid up behind you, his hands coming to grip your waist. “Where shall I take you, darling?” He whispered in your ear, his breath making you shiver.

He let go of your waist to circle you, stopping before you. “Do you want me to ruin you on that god awful couch?” He looked over his shoulder to the gaudy floral couch Carla had ordered special from Italy. She wouldn’t let anyone who wasn’t company sit on it in fear of stains.

You smiled at the idea of ruining the couch with Mr. Laufeyson, knowing Carla would lose her mind- even more so if she found out how it got there. “Yes please.”

He pulled you towards it then gently guided you to sit at the edge of it, angling you so you were in one corner. His hands splayed over the skin of your legs, gently pushing them apart. The feeling of the cool air of the house on your slit gave you goosebumps.

He kept his eyes locked with yours as he knelt between your legs before he turned to press a kiss to your thigh close to your knee. He then bit the skin there, earning a sharp inhale from you before he soothed it with his warm tongue.

“Tell me, darling. Did you touch yourself? Did you play with yourself as you watched me?” His velvety voice sent an involuntary shudder through you, his eyes capturing yours.

He nipped at your thigh with his teeth, marring the skin. You yelped then swallowed. “Yes! Yes, I did.”

“Good girl.” He moved to repeat his actions further up the inside of your thigh while he gently ran his fingers up and down your other thigh.

You were trembling while you watched him, each bite a little harder than the last as he got closer to your wet core. His eyes met yours once more then he blew a stream of cold air over your slit, causing you to gasp sharply. He smirked before letting his lips barely graze over your clit, your hips moving slightly before he brought his arm down over them to hold you in place.

He ever so gently pressed a kiss to your clit before gently running his tongue over the sensitive flesh, pulling a moan from you. You could feel your wetness dripping down onto the couch below as he continued to delicately tease you.

“You taste divine, darling. Better than I’d imagined.” You whined at his words- the idea of him alone, picturing what your cunt tasted like brought you to the edge of an orgasm.

He smiled wickedly up at you. “So close already? Poor thing.” Bringing one long finger to your slit he gathered some wetness before pushing it fully within you, forcing a loud moan through your lips.

“It’s okay darling, let go. Give into me. I promise it’ll make you feel so much better,” he hummed against your clit before tenderly sucking on it. He bent his finger within you, hitting something deep that made you cry out. You quickly came, your release squirting around his finger and wetting the couch below.

He kept up his movements as you rode out your high. Once your breath returned to you he pulled away and removed his finger, licking his lips as he wiped your release off his chin.

“Third lesson- good girls always get to cum.” He winked at you with a grin before standing.

He leaned over you, caging you in on the couch before capturing your lips with his. You hummed at the taste of yourself on him, his tongue gliding against yours.

He straightened back up then pulled you up off the couch and guided you to face the other way. He led you so your knees were on the couch, your arms resting against the back of the upholstery. You heard the sound of a zipper before feeling the tip of his hard length slide against your folds. You instinctively arched your back at the feeling, pressing yourself up against him, causing him to groan.

“Such a greedy little brat,” he said, smoothing his hands over the skin of your ass. “You want me to fuck that pretty little cunt, hm?”

“Yes- yes please, Mr. Laufeyson. Please fuck me,” you begged, rubbing yourself on him once more.

With that he thrust into you, holding himself still once he was fully seated within you, giving you a chance to adjust. You’d gasped at the sensation- he was clearly well-endowed and you were thankful he gave you a moment. Willing your muscles to relax you looked back at him before grinding your hips against his.

His eyes were dark with lust, his jaw clenched in a way that made you involuntarily squeeze him as he started to move within you. You were panting as he set a pace, the angle of his thrusts hitting the same spot he’d found quickly before.

You’d turned back around and folded your forearms over the back of the couch, arching yourself against him even more. He growled and picked up his pace, his hand firmly gripping your hip. The angle had you moaning desperately, the feeling of him so deep within you making your fingers and toes numb.

“That’s it darling, take my cock within your needy little cunt. Fuck- I’ve wanted to ruin this tight little pussy for so long. I’ve wanted you for so long,” he rasped out between thrusts and your mind went blank, all you could respond with were desperate moans.

He stopped abruptly and pulled you up before sitting himself on the couch and pulling you over his lap so you were straddling him. He’d unbuttoned his shirt and your mouth went dry at the sight of the musculature under his pale skin. You slid your fingers under the fabric, gripping his firm shoulders as he positioned himself under you.

You moved your hips in a circle over him, enjoying the feel of the very tip of him swirling within you.

“You little tease,” he grinned darkly, running a hand through his hair. “Ride me, darling. Show me what you can do.”

Your cunt clenched at his words and his wicked smirk spread. You took the opportunity to bring yourself down to grind against him, wiping the smug look off his face.

You quickly set a pace as you rode him, his hands on your ass guiding your movements. You were panting as you continued your movements, the angle bringing you close to your finish.

“Are you going to cum, darling?” His voice vibrated through you, and you nodded.

“Yes- fuck, Mr. Laufeyson. You feel so good-“ he continued to guide your movements, moving his head closer to your breast. He brought his mouth around one of your nipples, gently sucking at the nub. You arched into him, moaning at the sensation.

His tongue ran against your skin in his mouth, bringing another moan from you before he sharply bit down on your nipple, pushing you over the edge into another orgasm. You moaned his name over and over as you rode out your high, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulder. As you came back to yourself you felt him twitch within you, filling you as he reached his own finish.

You watched him as he came, mesmerised with his blissful expression, his long eyelashes touching defined cheekbones. His eyes fluttered back open and he gave you a smirk- god help you he was fucking gorgeous.

He gave you a chaste kiss before helping you up, the combined fluids from your finish trickling down your thigh. You were happy to see some hit the couch as you moved off him.

You strolled to the bathroom to clean yourself up and throw on a t-shirt and panties, passing a damp cloth to him once you returned. You pulled a cigarette from the pack you had on the kitchen counter, then headed to the balcony as you lit it up.

You were leaning on the balcony, watching the now dark waves when he joined you. You smiled at him, offering him your cigarette. He took a long drag as you leant on the balcony’s edge.

“So,” you trailed off, not sure what to say.

“That was fun,” he exhaled then smiled at you, his expression mischievous.

“Yeah,” you agreed, relief filling your chest. “I’d love to do it again.”

“Of course darling, we have all summer.” He came behind you, pulling you against his chest as he ducked his head so his lips were beside your ear. ”And you have quite a bit to learn.”

End Notes: Want to read more Loki fics of mine? My masterlist is here.

#loki mcu #dom!loki x you #dom!loki x you smut #dom!loki x sub!reader #dom!loki x reader #ceo!loki #loki x you smut #loki x reader smut #loki x you #loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki smut #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston loki #loki fic

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lunastwilightblog · 3 years

Text

The Volturi are the good guys and Bella is the up-and-coming villain

I’m on my computer for this as I know it might be long, but bear with me (insert Emmett pun here) 🐻

So wait - the Volturi are the good guys? But didn’t SM write them as the bad guys?

Well, yes, SM did write Aro and co in as the antagonists of the series, but bear in mind that originally she didn’t write most of New Moon to happen, or the entirety of Eclipse. There was Twilight and Forever Dawn, which we’ll sadly never read. Her vision of the Volturi and their role as the evil villains who wanted to separate Edward and Bella became distorted as she had to flesh them out more and show their role as the governing body.

Then she wrote the Illustrated Guide and revealed their history and the horrors of the world without their authority; with the Romanians being as brutal as they were, the constant terror humans lived with and the fracturing of the world into many unstable and violent vampire-ruled empires (plus with way more children of the moon running about, probably as far west as - at least - central Europe).

When the Volturi were coming to power they were laughed at with the idea of their law, a significant reason the Romanians didn’t take them seriously. But now they are extremely popular.

This isn’t just because Aro created vampires to go out and sing his praises. Volturi rule has been a blessing for both humans and vampires.

For humans it’s the obvious: they are not living their lives in fear, they are not subject to massacres (except if caught in newborn warzones), their population has been able to grow and expand, modern medicine and technology have been able to flourish, society is much more stable, people need to flee areas much less (if ever) so they can stay put and complete research/live to meet their grandkids/etc, and not have to serve a vampire in the local castle.

For vampires it’s actually quite similar: with the human population growing to as large as it is today when at the time the Volturi came to power it was (estimated to be) only 210 million globally, vampires have been able to grow to even greater numbers also, and feed more often than before. If a vampire 2000 years ago killed 5 people in a town it would be an outrage the humans would certainly have noticed, however kill 5 people in a place as big as London, LA, Paris, Singapore, Bucharest... it would likely not be noticed very much, if at all (depending on who you kill).

Humans like to measure things in percentages. Those 5 people is a huge number to a town of 2000 - that’s 0.25% of the whole town’s population. It would be talked about, and relatives of the dead/missing would all know each other. Yet kill those 5 in a city of 12 million (as is London), that’s only 0.00004167% of the population. And chances are, the dead humans’ families don’t even live in the area (or could be in another country entirely) never mind know each other to realise there was a mass murder.

So vampires, as long as they hide from humans, as is the only law (besides no immortal children or consorting with werewolves), they have a lot more freedom nowadays than they did before the times of the Volturi. There are so many people that they can easily get lost in a crowd, move internationally, and not be pressured for allegiance by a local vampire warlord (before meeting Aro, Caius ran afoul of the Romanians, and he barely escaped with his life).

With there only being one authority, and one that does not interfere with your day-to-day life, is a dream come true. As long as they don’t break this law that is very easy to abide by, they can do whatever the f*** they want.

Carlisle would have never been able to get a job as a doctor if he was known to be a vampire, nor could any of the Cullens have entered education of any form. They’d be stuck sneaking into libraries after closing, and googling. Edward would have never met Bella (neither would Edward’s ancestors have immigrated to America - in fact, Europeans may have never discovered America in the first place. The whole Cullen coven aside from Carlisle might never have been born).

So what the Volturi have done (despite many of them having not-so-savoury personalities corrupted by hunger for power or violence) is bring peace to the world, get rid of tyrants, increase the food supply, allow a greater amount of freedom, and the first kind of trials and justice ever seen in their world. Sure, Aro uses trials to find new talent, but it’s still a world away from before.

Which leads me on to the events of Breaking Dawn, and Bella.

So. Maybe controversial, but: the Volturi did absolutely nothing wrong in Breaking Dawn.

They turned up thinking a serious crime had been committed. They stopped to talk (which Vladimir certainly never would have done!), considered the evidence and processed new discoveries and discussed their legality, decided there was no crime to punish, and left with only the informant dead. Yes, Irina had been innocent in the way that she strongly had believed she had been telling the truth and her memories must have presented good enough evidence to Aro initially, but their witnesses had come to see justice being served, and in the vampire world that is execution. Aro could have continued with prosecuting the Cullens for something he now knew was false, or execute Irina instead.

(Side note: she did kind of deserve it too. She didn’t bother to check her evidence, she wanted revenge for Laurent’s death so her accusation wasn’t coming from a place of good intentions but instead she was willing to have her friends and family killed for Laurent. She was also forcing Aro into a position where he had to prepare himself to kill Carlisle, whom we know he cherishes. Remember also that Aro turned down Laurent’s application to the Guard because he’d followed the Romanians for a while, so he won’t have been entirely trusting of Irina anyway, her having been Laurent’s mate).

Anyway. Onto Bella.

So Aro’s impression of Bella after New Moon seems to be positive. Why? Well, through Edward’s thoughts he saw that Bella was able to keep The Secret. He had heard how much she wanted to be a vampire. In addition, Marcus showed him how strong Edward and Bella’s bond is. Both of them knew, that if E & B’s love was almost as strong as Marcus and Didyme’s, that no matter what Edward currently said or thought about Bella being turned it was invalid. If Bella were dying, he would turn her for sure, which happened. Then the obvious, that Edward had already proven he could not live without her.

Bella was trustworthy and probably going to be turned. Alice showing proof was just a formality so Aro could say he had evidence rather than admit he’d just made assumptions (and Alice having had that vision may act as proof that his assumption was correct).

Therefore, from Aro’s perspective, Bella was a human who wanted to become immortal so much that she would rather die than not, and she was already following his law. She was no issue.

Yet.

Bella, knowing the law, should have been very grateful that she was left alive. Edward not being executed and she not being killed or forcibly turned on the spot... Aro had been very nice to them.

And again, in BD, he was very nice to them. Some people will inevitably say that he was weak in not killing them all. I mean, they stood beside Vladimir and Stefan! They have an army of wolves fundamentally opposed to vampires! Aro has lost Good Reputation Points by sparing the Cullens. He held as close to a trial as vampire society has ever had, and rightfully pronounced the Cullens innocent.

So shouldn’t Bella like him? He has spared her life and the lives of her loved ones more than one, and proven that he can be spoken to and conversed with properly and is willing to admit he was wrong. With Aro, we know it’s important to look more at what he does than what he says, and what he has done is be very kind to the Cullens (though who knows about the future?).

Yet Bella was creeped out by him when they met and interpreted him as a threat to Edward’s life. As she loves Edward, she’s always going to be of this mind, and first impressions are important.

Vampires are stuck with the mindsets they had when turned. An example of this is Esme, who was turned after her baby died and she tried to die too. She is permanently feeling maternal. She was turned only days after giving birth. Before knowing this, Bella even describes her as maternal and the mother of the family. Huilen also has a lot of care for Nahuel, being his aunt, because of her love for Pire, and while she was dying, Pire begged Huilen to raise him. Joham does not seem to have this parental love for his son and daughters; he never really knew Pire and was never affected by her love for Nahuel, and did not meet him until years after he was born. He’s only genetically a parent. He doesn’t have the protective mindset. When he was turned, he was a curious scientist (in fact, it was even why his creator turned him). He sees the world and people as things to study.

Anyway.

When Bella was turned, all she was thinking about was Renesmee. She begged Edward to get the baby out and didn’t care for her own life.

And she will be forever stuck in this high alert, must-protect-my-baby mode. Then for weeks as a newborn vampire, she was thinking of Aro as a threat and preparing to fight him. Compounding that, he was a threat to her daughter.

Both of these things will have had a significant effect on who she will have become after her newborn phase ended. It is impossible for Bella to ever like Aro now, even if she tried.

Her dislike of him, and willingness to fight against him, will be forever engrained in her brain.

This is dangerous.

Bella found the Romanians weird, but she didn’t dislike them per se. She would probably be willing to stand with them against the Volturi again.

We can take an educated guess and assume that sometime they will rise up again - and Bella might stand with them (though I highly doubt any of the other Cullens would).

Bella was not a problem for Aro until she stood beside Vladimir and Stefan.

Here is this vampire who can block most of his coven’s gifts, stuck with an intense dislike of him, who he has seen with his own eyes stand with his enemies. He has every right to be nervous now. Her love for her mate is almost as strong as Marcus’s bond to Didyme - how strong is her bond to Renesmee? Likely more. Aro knows the threat in that. He knows that Bella may be viewing him in the way Marcus feels when he thinks of taking revenge on whoever killed Didyme.

Nobody wants the Romanians back in power. Those who lived under their reign and those who have heard first hand stories told to them all know very well that life under Vladimir would be horrible, brutal, awful for all beside his close coven members (though considering he had a very large coven that was often squabbling amongst itself, it was probably miserable for a lot of them too).

But Bella is young. She has no memory of the world before the Volturi, and knows no one with first hand experience of that world other than the Volturi. She will have heard that it was horrible, but she has no emotional or personal connection to the near-ancient past, and vampires who lived during that time are disappearing. No one lives forever.

Then, she is American. Like Garrett, she values freedom, and the Volturi are the only oppressive vampire force either of them has ever known. Despite them being the least oppressive in vampire history, Bella and Garrett haven’t experienced the alternative. They are a government that is at times harsh, is corrupt, and executes people. They go to war and they obliterate their enemies. Bella doesn’t see that the Volturi is the least bad government her world is ever going to get, and that they’ve granted her so much freedom. She is unable to see that because, in her youth, she has nothing to compare them against.

By standing against the Volturi, Bella isn’t just standing against Aro, Caius, and Marcus. She is standing against the peace they have brought between vampires, against humans living without fear, against modern civilisation itself. She stands a representative of the next world order, and Aro can sense it.

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everybody-loves-purdy · 3 years

Note

Bramble and Squilf are so bad for each other. But I don’t get how that’s abusing Please explain

Have you read Squirrelflight’s Hope? If not then to get a full understanding of this I would highly recommending doing so so you can fully have context for a majority of what makes Bramblestar abusive.

Before I give a quick explanation I would also highly recommended watching “Bramblestar is Worse” by Moonkitti since that will explain the whole thing a lot better and in a lot more detail than I can achieve here.

Ok so basically, in Squirrelflight’s Hope Bramblestar’s behaviour towards Squirrelflight is straight up abusive, to the point where it even recontextualises some of their past arguments and interactions from what many people previously saw them as. To give a quick summary in Squirrelflight’s Hope Bramblestar and Squirrelflight disagree on how to resolve a land dispute and they argue - a lot. The fact that the are arguing isn’t the issue itself (even though it does really make the book drag, they argue for 4 pages straight at one point iirc), the issue is how Bramblestar behaves. And before I begin I just want to say it’s been a while since I have last read this book - it is not my intention to get anything wrong so if I do I promise it’s not intentional and I would appreciate knowing so I can make an edit.

He gaslights her- in Squirrelflight’s Hope he is constantly forcing her to question her judgement, he tells her that the Sisters are bad (despite not actually knowing them while Squirrel does) and tells her that she is a disloyal clan cat and that she has bad judgement. Due to this Squirrelflight begins to question herself more and more as the book goes on. To the point where she questions whether she belongs in ThunderClan anymore.

He exerts authority over her in a way that is inappropriate on both a personal and professional level- He forces her to run every single decision she makes by him, no matter how small or trivial. If she doesn’t comply he threatens her with demotion. She literally has no freedom to perform any of her usual duties. She wants to send out a hunting patrol? Bramblestar has to know and he has to approve who she wants to send. This isn’t normal. The point of a deputy is to do all this stuff so the leader doesn’t have to. Deputies should never need to do this unless it’s a battle patrol or something. He is punishing her. He even tells her at one point not to speak during a gathering iirc. That’s her right. Every clan cat should have the right to speak at a gathering. He takes that away from her.

He ostracises her - For a large period in the book he will not speak to her at all, no matter how hard Squirrelflight tries to engage in conversation with him, he will only talk to her when he’s giving her orders. This isn’t some little spat where he just won’t talk to her for an hour or two. This goes on for days. At one point he even refuses to speak up in her defence when the other Clans begin calling her a traitor at a gathering . He just watches. She is his deputy, she is his wife. Even if you are arguing with your spouse I assume you wouldn’t just stand there and watch as your rivals publicly ridicule and attack her. This isn’t normal.

He emotionally manipulates her - Early on in the book Squirrelflight expresses an interest in having more kits and poses the question to Bramblestar. Once she realises he doesn’t want anymore she decides to drop it and not press it further even though it does upset her (she tries not to let this show). In the book Bramblestar keeps bringing up kits in emotionally charged situations as a way of manipulating her, as well as bringing up other things like her supposed disloyalty and love for the sisters over her clan as a way to manipulate her.

Also there’s the entire scene where Squirrelflight is trying to get a dying cat some treatment, Bramblestar refuses to allow this dying cat to receive treatment by physically forcing himself between the dying cat and Leafpool, and then has the audacity to ask Squirrelflight “Why are you doing this to me?”

Also right at the end of the book he says “We should never let things get so bad” as his way of apologising as if he wasn’t the one actively continuing and escalating this dispute the entire book and purposely making Squirrelflight doubt herself more and more and feel worthless. All she wants to do is solve things with her husband. He doesn’t let her. Yes what she did to get him so angry with her in the first place was wrong (sneaking out to investigate some potential land for SkyClan behind his back since he was being very dismissive of her opinions), but she didn’t deserve this. There were points in this book I was scared for Squirrelflight. I was scared about what Bramblestar might do to her next. How he might decide to punish her next. What he was doing to her was abusive.

#so yeah watch that video for a more in depth analysis #Bramblestar #Squirrelflight #abuse tw #long post #I’m sorry for any poor writing quality it’s midnight here and I can’t go into as much detail as I would like because of time

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

Happiness [Maxwell Lorenzano x f!Reader]

Author’s note: Please heed warnings before you read. This is angst. There’s a little fluff and a few spicy moments, but at its core, this is a pretty angsty read. It’s a different interpretation of Maxwell, post WW84. Reblogs are so appreciated. I worked really hard on this and it’s not showing up in tags so if you could reblog it... it would literally mean the world to me :( <3

Summary: After the dreamstone debacle, Maxwell Lord loses custody of his son, his home, his job and all his wealth. He has nothing, and what was once the simple task of ‘living’, is suddenly proving to be extremely difficult. Until a beacon of light enters his life. He can only hope that you don’t find out who he really is.

Word count: 4000+

Rating: 18+

Warnings: depression/suicidal thoughts, PSTD/trauma implications, poverty, starvation, binge eating, allusions to sex, male masturbation, food and drink mention.

Masterlist

Max is usually pretty good at keeping himself to himself, but when he hears the commotion from outside his small shanty apartment, he cautiously stalks towards the front door and leans into the wood, gazing out the peephole. He spots you, struggling to unlock the door located on the far side of the hall. Your arms are filled with brown paper bags and an abundance of cardboard boxes circle around your feet. He hears you curse as you drop one of the paper bags. It rips, and groceries spill onto the floor with a clatter. He swallows thickly, feeling his tummy grumble at the sight of fresh fruit and colourful veg. Max hadn’t eaten a single meal this week.

He spends a few more seconds watching you struggle, before the guilt swarms over him and he feels like a creep. He does wonder if he should leave his apartment and help you out though, but eventually he decides on turning his heel and walks back to the torn leather sofa. He just knows he’ll be some kind of intrusion on you. If Max has learned one thing, it’s that he needs to stay away from other people. Otherwise, he’d just hurt them. Even if hurting them was the last thing he intended to do.

Still, he finds himself marvelling over you. He wants to go over and introduce himself. He thinks you’re absolutely stunning. Maybe it’s just because he hasn’t seen a woman (other than his ex-wife) in just short of a year, or maybe it’s something more genuine -- like the way you wear your hair or that glimmer in your eye. Once upon a time, Maxwell would’ve strolled on over to your apartment with the utmost confidence and charm, with the sole intention of winning you over and taking you back to his place. He wouldn’t dare do that now.

He stares at the wall clock, and watches as the minute leg ticks. It’s painfully slow. It’s 5:52pm, and Maxwell is just waiting until 6pm, because he knows at 6pm he can call his son, Alistair. If he tries calling a second earlier though, he is certain his ex-wife will throw a rage, claiming that he’s breaking court order. Maxwell had never been one to follow rules, but now, he didn’t have much of a choice. As he waits for the leg to strike 6, all he can really do is think about you. Truth be told, he hates that he’s thinking about you this much. He doesn't even know you.

But you’re so pretty. Your features are soft and delicate. Your clothes fit you perfectly and hug your body in all the right places. He can’t help but think what you sound like. He wonders if you’re from around here. He wonders why you moved into this particular neighbourhood, out of all the other neighbourhoods in rural D.C. He should go over and say hello at least. It would be the polite thing to do. He considers bringing over a bottle of wine to make a peace offering, but then he remembers all he has in his refrigerator is a stick of butter and a bottle of milk that has grown old and fermented. He assumes that you probably wouldn’t care for such housewarming gifts.

Maxwell calls Alistair as soon as the clock turns six. As always, Alistair is more than excited to speak to his dad, beaming brightly down the line. Alistair tells Maxwell about his step-father, and how he’d built a pool in their back garden for Ali and his mom. Max’s lips curl into a frown when he realises that his ex’s new husband is giving Alistair everything Max couldn’t. And once again, Maxwell feels like he has failed as a father.

For a short while, Alistair babbles about his day at school and how he got full marks on a pop quiz. Maxwell is as proud as punch. He has no doubt that success will one day find Alistair, he just hopes Alistair has an easier time handling it. Max can hear a faint yelling in the background of the phone call and eventually Alistair is interrupted.

“Oh-- mommy is calling me to eat dinner.” Alistair says softly, his voice suddenly growing oddly timid. Max’s stomach grumbles again at the mention of dinner.

“But we still have ten minutes left of our phone call.” Max replies matter-of-factly. He hopes Alistair can’t hear the disappointment in his voice. This isn’t his fault. He hears his ex yell again and Max can’t help but feel his face harden with disdain.

“I know, I’m sorry daddy, but I have to go.” The croak in Alistair’s voice is enough to break Maxwell’s heart. He wishes this could’ve been different. It should’ve been different.

Max knows he can’t argue though. It’s only futile. So he accepts the fact that Alistair has to leave the phone call early -- at least he was getting something to eat. Maxwell remembers when he was Alistair’s age. His mom always struggled to put food on the table because his dad would spend all the money on drinks at the local bar. Maxwell is just grateful his son isn’t starving.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Maxwell reassures before taking a shaky exhale. “I love y--”

But then, the line went dead. Max assumes that Alistair’s mom has ripped the phone from his hand and hung up. Sighing, Maxwell forces himself to stand up and walk on over to his bedroom. The bed is unmade and there are several piles of dirty laundry all over the floor. He jams open the sticky window and climbs onto the balcony, inhaling the cool evening air and lighting a cigarette. Smoking was a habit he’d gotten himself into when he was much younger, but he’d grown out of it when he’d hit limelight. Now though, it was growing back in to be a shameful addiction that he just couldn’t shake. It helped him stop feeling hunger, though.

As he flicks the orange lit ash over the edge of the balcony, his eyes catch on you again. You are standing on the street, talking to some guy. You’re laughing, and it looks like this mystery man’s hand is caressing your arm. It’s probably your boyfriend; Maxwell assumes, and the pang of jealousy in his chest turns into unadulterated sadness as he realises he was probably never going to find love again. He peers over the edge of the balcony once more as he takes a final drag of the cigarette, and he wonders if the jump would kill him.

Maxwell’s eyes begin to sting, and he climbs back into his bedroom, knocking his head on the window pane in the process.

He can’t sleep that night, and he tosses and turns in his three quarter sized bed. He could feel every spring in his mattress. What he would give to just sleep one more night in the soft, plush king sized bed he used to take for granted. He switched on his amber tinged bedside lamp and swatted away a moth that flew towards it. Maxwell stared at the ceiling and wondered if the damp had gotten worse. Even if it had, it wasn’t like Max had the courage to bring it up with the landlord.

He finds himself thinking about you again. He lived to see the way you smiled when you spoke to that guy, or the way your hair blew ever so slightly in the evening breeze. Max wraps his hand around his semi-hard cock and begins to jerk himself off. To nobody’s surprise though, he doesn’t finish -- the overwhelming feeling of revolt consuming him. He thinks he’s disgusting, and that nobody would ever want to touch him. He can’t even stand touching himself.

He falls asleep not long after that.

Max once had a pretty decent sleep schedule, going to bed at 10 and waking up at 6. But now he was up until the early hours of the morning, overthinking and hating himself. He wakes up three or four times a night from the same recurring nightmare. It’s a replay from the clear night of July ‘84, when he took over everyone’s TV screens. His doctor prescribed him therapy for it, which would probably help, but Maxwell just can’t afford it.

He wakes up to the sound of a bang on his front door. Max scrambles to his feet in a panic, checking the time on his alarm clock. It’s 2pm. And the person at the door could easily be his landlord, finally having enough and kicking him out. Max’s rent is two months overdue.

But it’s not his unforgiving landlord. It’s you. And you’re holding a fruit basket.

“Hey neighbour!” you smile pleasantly before introducing yourself to him. “I just moved in across the hall. I wasn’t sure what you’d like… but I figured everyone likes fruit!”

Maxwell stays quiet, standing there in complete disbelief. No one has shown him this amount of kindness in so long…

The prolonged silence makes you feel a little strange. He still hasn’t accepted the fruit basket, nor had he said anything. He was just… staring at you. It wasn’t a slimy gawk. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what his dark eyes were trying to tell you.

“—I’m sorry,” you continue eventually when he doesn’t speak, dropping the fruit basket by your side and turning away. “I uh— would you like me to get you something else?”

Maxwell’s eyes widen and he quickly shakes his head. “No!” he exclaims, opening his front door wider and taking the fruit basket from you. “I’m sorry,” he apologises. “I uh— I love fruit.”

You smile at his fluster, and you swear you notice a rosy pink blush cross his cheeks. It’s adorable.

“Oh okay, that’s good then.”

Maxwell prays you can’t hear his stomach grumble at the sight of the fresh fruit. He’s so excited to eat it all. “How can I repay you?”

You raise your eyebrows at his proposition and chuckle awkwardly. “Repay me? No no,” you laugh. “It’s just a fruit basket,”

It wasn’t just a fruit basket though. It was the only food Max had.

“I mean, you could tell me your name.”

Maxwell curses, realising he hasn’t even introduced himself. Gods— he wonders when exactly he’d lost his charm.

“Right, I’m sorry. I’m Max.” He extends his arm and offers you a handshake. You giggle, but accept.

He feels a bolt of electricity run up his arm when your fingers interlink with his, and he wonders if you can feel it too.

“Very formal Max,” you acknowledge with a smile.

Maxwell genuinely hasn’t communicated with anyone since July 1984. It’s probably about time he ditches the businessman persona, although he doesn’t realise he still uses it from time to time. Old habits die hard.

“I must say, I feel like I recognise you from somewhere.”

“No. You don’t.” Maxwell quickly snaps back and you’re afraid you struck a nerve.

There’s a longer silence and you find yourself wondering about your neighbour. He’s right in front of you and yet you can’t help but feel as though he’s some kind of enigma. Maybe it’s the crinkles in the corner of his eyes or his wry smile.

“Um…” you mumble, your gaze trailing behind him as you try and peer into his apartment. You can’t see much though. From where you stand it looks very empty… and brown. “If you weren’t busy tonight maybe you could come over and we could get to know each other. I uh-- don’t have many friends yet.” you explain shyly, nervously biting your lip.

You didn’t usually get nervous talking to new people, but there was just something about Maxwell that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His presence made butterflies flutter in your tummy and your hands feel clammy with excitement… or maybe anticipation. He stares at you blankly before clearing his throat.

“I uh-- yeah I mean-- maybe,” Maxwell shrugs cooly. “If I’m not busy.”

Pft, busy. Max hasn’t been busy since the dreamstone debacle.

“Of course,” you nod your head and smile. “Well, you’re welcome to come on over anytime.”

And then, without thinking, Maxwell replies. “And you’re welcome to come over here anytime too.”

You feel your smile grow into a grin and you reach out, placing your hand on Max’s arm. “Okay, well, it was nice meeting you.” you bite your lip.

Max’s heart stops when you touch him, and for the first time, he doesn’t flinch away. You’re holding his bicep and… he likes it. It’s not sending him into a spur of anxiety, in fact, he feels better just for finally plucking the courage to talk to you. And now you’re touching him. You’re not repulsed or disgusted… in fact, you’re smiling. You look happy, and maybe Max is happy too. Maybe. Max doesn’t even realise the small smile that’s crept upon his lips.

“Nice meeting you too.” He swallows and you wave goodbye.

He watches you walk back into your apartment, drinking in your appearance. You were wearing jeans and a sweatshirt today. It was casual… but he liked it.

Even when he finally gets back into his apartment and slumps against his front door, he’s still smiling. This feeling is so unfamiliar.

Maxwell finds himself pondering whether or not he should visit you tonight. He so desperately wanted to see you again-- see your pretty face and sparkling eyes and that perfect smile. Maybe Max could have a friend. That would be nice.

But he quickly gets scared again. He knows immediately that you’re too good for him, and that he’ll only end up hurting you. And then he’ll be left alone again. Max doesn’t know if he can survive another heartbreak.

Once again, he lights a cigarette and sits on the balcony, and wonders if the jump will kill him.

Then he realises he suddenly doesn’t want to die. At least, not yet. He wants to see you again first.

Max doesn’t even bother finishing the cigarette. He taps away the ash and climbs back inside, stripping himself of his clothes and turning on the shower. If he was going to see you tonight, he’d at least make the effort.

The soap he uses is from Dollar Tree, and it doesn’t really have a scent. It made a change from his favourite Jo Malone pomegranate fragranced soap, that’s for sure. He gets annoyed trying to squirt out the very little remenints of his shampoo bottle. Although he doesn’t have much, he’s satisfied when he comes out of the shower. He feels clean and fresh.

Maxwell rakes through his tiny collapsing wardrobe, trying to find an outfit that will make him appear somewhat presentable. He’s probably overthinking this whole thing -- after all, it isn’t exactly a date. But he still feels the strong inclination to impress you. He so desperately wants to be liked by you.

Most of his everyday wear is stained or ripped or very aged. But then he spots the small duffel bag at the bottom of his closet and he remembers he packed some of his old business wear when he moved out of his manor and into this apartment. He hadn’t looked in the duffel bag once since moving though, afraid that seeing the clothes would unleash some kind of trauma on him.

Max crosses his legs and hesitantly unzips the black bag. Inside, he finds a few fitted shirts, a few tailored pants, and one suit jacket. He even spots a belt and two patterned ties. He’s a little upset though when he can’t find the suspenders he used to wear. They were always his favourite part of his outfit.

Maxwell can’t bring himself to dress in the whole get up, but he does pick out a white button down shirt and grey pants. He tucks the shirt in, and wraps the belt through the loops in his pants, clicking it into place. Opting to look slightly more casual, Max leaves the first two buttons of his shirt undone and rolls the sleeves up to his elbows.

And for the first time in a long time, Max likes the way he looks. He wishes he had some cologne to spray, and he could definitely do with a haircut, but this is good enough.

He doesn’t want to seem desperate, so he does wait (albeit impatiently) until 8:30pm to see you. In the meantime, he eats over half of the fruit basket. He tells himself he’ll stop after an apple and an orange, but strangely enough. He can’t. He can’t stop. It just tastes so good and he’s so hungry -- so he eats until he feels sick. He wants to lie down because he really doesn’t feel too good at all, but he’s not going to pass up this opportunity to see you for anything. He feels a little cold, so he throws on his suit jacket which is grey in colour and matches the tailored pants. Max chokes down a glass of water, straightens up his posture, and knocks on your door.

He’s not waiting for long, and he’s delighted when he sees you answer the door. Your lips are painted a ruby red colour and you’re wearing your hair differently. Not only that, but you’d changed out of your sweater and jeans, and now you’re doting a knee length flowy dress. Your feet are slipped into some fuzzy looking slippers though, and Max admires the small diamond stud earrings that you don. They really bring out the colour of your eyes.

“I was hoping you’d come.” you reveal nervously, opening the door wider and looking your neighbour up and down. He looks so incredibly handsome in his change of outfit. Max feels himself blush under your gaze and he smiles.

“I just couldn’t pass this up.” he laughs nervously.

You move out the way and gesture for him to enter your apartment. Max notes that it’s roughly the same size as his, but it’s already filled with more furniture. Judging from the plentiful cardboard boxes in every corner, you hadn’t finished unpacking either. You find yourself watching Max as he takes in your front room. You take his jacket and hang it on your coat peg which stands by your front door. You definitely do recognise him from somewhere, especially seeing him in that shirt and those pants…

You shrug off your curiosity temporarily though, and take his hand, pulling him into your kitchen. Max loves the way your hand fits so perfectly into his. He doesn’t want you to pull away. And you don’t, until you reach the refrigerator.

“I have cranberry juice, tea, coffee-- no milk though, uh…” you trail off and check the cupboards. You beam when you see the bottle of champagne that your friend had gifted you. It was to celebrate moving out. You present him with it and grin. “Would you care to have a glass with me?”

Max remembers the distinct taste of the bubbles on his lips and he nods in agreement. You don’t have any fancy glasses, let alone flutes, so you pour the pale yellow liquid into two plastic tumblers. You hand one to Max and cradle your own in both of your hands.

“You should propose a toast.” you laugh jokingly.

Luckily, Maxwell has always been able to handle being put on the spot. He only takes a few seconds to come up with something.

“To new friends.” he announces with a charming smile, and clinks his cup against yours.

Max hasn’t had a drink in a long time, so it doesn’t take long for it to reside in his system and he begins to feel a bit tipsy. It’s not bad though. Maxwell is relaxed, and he’s comfortable. You bounce off each other and make each other laugh right up until the early hours of the morning. You bring out Monopoly and you’re surprised at how good he is at it. He gives you advice on buying properties and investments and it truly sounds like he knows what he’s talking about. You wonder what he does for a living.

“I didn’t say this earlier,” Max says as you pour out the last of the champagne. The alcohol has him buzzing with confidence. “But you look breathtaking, really. That dress and those earrings and your lips…”

And you don’t know what it is, but Max just makes you feel so good. “My lips?” you repeat breathlessly, gazing into his honeyed brown eyes.

Max nods wordlessly when you climb into his lap and straddle his hips. You place the palms of your hands flat against his chest and nudge your nose against his, giggling playfully. Max feels scared -- he’d never been this close to anyone in so long, let alone a beautiful woman like yourself.

Gods, he’s so handsome too. A small piece of his hair has fallen out of place and it crosses his forehead. You’re quick to brush it out of his face with your finger, and one of your hands cup his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into the warmth of your touch, humming in contentment. When he opens his eyes again, they’re noticeably shades darker.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice low like it had dropped a few octaves.

You nod desperately and your lips crash against his.

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the adrenaline but he’s an amazing kisser -- perhaps the best you’ve ever had. You roll your hips over his lap and he moans, but doesn’t break the kiss once. His large hands roam around your back and squeeze at the soft flesh of your thighs. The Monopoly game has been long discarded now, leaving only you and Max revelling in each other’s touch.

You want more. You want him. You dip your hand in between your bodies and find his belt, trying your best to undo the buckle so you can get him out of his pants. You’re certain you can feel his erection pressing against the inside of your thigh, and you’d be right in thinking he wants this too.

But what he wants the most, is to not ruin things between you both, and Max feels like that maybe this is all happening a bit too fast. He doesn’t want to reject you, and he’s afraid of hurting you, but he’s also afraid of you getting so close to him -- that you find out who he truly is, and the things he does. He doesn’t want to lose you because you make him feel so happy. For the first time in potentially years, Maxwell feels genuine happiness. He doesn’t want to fuck up, not when he’s been doing so well.

So he pulls away from you breathlessly and moves your hands away from him. He holds them though, brushing his thumbs in comforting circles against your soft skin.

“I really like you,” he smiles. “And tonight has been… great. You have no idea how much I’ve enjoyed myself. But I-- I really want to see you again. And do this again. And have a good time with you. I just don’t think we should-- you know--” Maxwell tries to explain. He feels bad for rejecting you. “It’s not that I don’t want to. Because trust me,” he sighs, closing his brown eyes. “I really really do. But--”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” you smile, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I understand, and honestly, I think you’re probably right. I’ve had a good time too though.”

Maxwell can’t help but beam knowing that there’s no hard feelings between you both.

“So we can do this again?” he asks hopefully.

“Yes.” you reply, pressing a chaste yet sweet kiss to his lips.

You wiggle off his lap and Maxwell stands up. “I should head back home then,” he says. “It’s late. But maybe we can do something tomorrow?”

“I’d like that a lot.” you agree.

Max gives you one final kiss and part of you wants to ask him if he’d be willing to stay the night. You shake away the temptation and tell yourself there’d be plenty more opportunities for him to stay over. Before he leaves, you see him abruptly spin around on his heel and point his index finger towards you.

And your heart drops.

You freeze.

You think you can feel your blood run cold and the colour drain out of your face.

Because in that moment, when he points his finger at you, you recognise him.

You remember him.

You know who he is.

“I almost forgot my jacket.” Max laughs, sliding past you.

You feel like you can’t move though.

This was the man who single handedly almost destroyed the entire planet.

But how -- how could it be Maxwell Lord? He was so sweet and kind and funny. How could the man you just made out with, the man you shared a bottle of champagne with -- your own neighbour…

How could it be Maxwell Lord?

How hadn’t you noticed sooner. Hell, his name was literally Max Lorenzano.

“Goodnight.” Max tells you.

You try and force yourself to say it back but no words come out. Your throat feels dry and you’re panicking.

Max doesn’t even notice though. He’s too busy beaming with happiness when he leaves.

You aren’t sure if you’re going to see him again.

When Maxwell gets back home, he can’t rid himself of the grin that’s plastered across his lips. He sits out on the balcony and lights a cigarette, but this time, when he looks at the ground beneath you, he doesn’t wonder if the jump will kill him.

His eyebrows furrow together when he notices the florist across the road, and he wonders how much a bouquet of flowers will cost him. He wants to get you something; as a thank you for giving him a good time.

He simply can’t wait to see you again.

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #ww84

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getouswh0re · 3 years

Text

pairing: kirishima eijirou x reader

genre: yandere, unhealthy relationships, gaslighting, peer pressure, blackmailing, mentions of school bullying, power play

synopsis: all you want is a peaceful languid life free of trouble, yet everything spirals downhill when a certain redhead wanders into your life out of nowhere. Worst of all, he isn’t planning to leave you for good.

****************************************************

one

“What is it that you want to ask me, Kirishima?” The spiky redhead sucks in a deep breath, feeling the rhythmic thrumming of his heart rising to a crescendo as he shoots a nervous glance at a nearby bush where his squad is hiding. It is going to be alright, he reminds himself. You have practiced the confession with Sero and Kaminari over and over again, all that’s left is for you to say the exact words in front of y/n again!

“I ... I know we have only been friends for a short while y/n, but I really like you! And I was thinking if there would be a chance for the two of us to try things out. Please ... please be my girlfriend! I promise I’ll make you the happiest person on the entire planet!”

For a while, silence dominates the air, leaving you shell-shocked and an extremely flustered Kirishima who turns his head away, refusing to stare at you in the eye. He cognises that this confession must’ve given you quite a bit of shock, yet he is willing to wait for you to reciprocate his feelings no matter how long it takes. Squeezing his eyes shut as he clasps his palms together, the redhead feels like he is waiting for your reply — akin to an answer from the heavens. Not until you open your mouth and what seems like an iridescent future for him has reduced to dust.

“I’m sorry Kiri ... I like you too, but I don’t think of you romantically.”

It takes you forever to muster up the courage you need to politely reject the bubbly redhead; and in all honesty, you can already feel your conscience berating you for doing so. Admittedly, Kirishima is a wonderful guy — with a bright personality, amazing quirk that would guarantee him a promising future in the hero industry. You, on the other hand, have a somewhat decent quirk as well; yet despite everyone around gushing about how great it would be for you to become a hero, your resolve towards being one isn’t as strong as your fellow classmates in UA. And you don’t want your thoughts to affect the other students in striving towards their ultimate goal.

Including Kirishima Eijirou.

“... why?” Pangs of guilt shoot through your heart when you hears the redhead choking back sobs. “Why can’t we give one another a chance to work things out? Am ... am I not good enough? Did I annoy you? Or do you hate my hair? I — I can dye it whatever colour you want! Just to make you happy ...”

“It’s not like that Kiri.” You place a hand on his hunched shoulders, attempting to cheer up his dejected spirit.

“You are not annoying, nor did your behaviour put me off. You are a really nice guy to be honest, and you deserve a lot more. I’m not like you or the others ... I just want to live a normal life, and I don’t want my mentality of not being a hero to affect the rest of you who work so hard to reach for the stars. Plus, I’m sure you’ll meet a lot more amazing people like you out there once you become a professional hero ... and perhaps, you’ll find someone more deserving of your kindness and love. I wish for your happiness Kiri ... may you have the best of things coming your way in life.”

With that, you spill out apologies one after the other, leaving the heartbroken hero-in-training behind.

two

Never would you have imagined that the act of turning down Kirishima’s confession eventually bites back at you like karma.

Soon after the incident happens, words about how you reject the redhead has spread its way around the school like wildfire. Within the span of a day, you’ve become the number one gossip of the campus; wherever you go, dozens of eyes would trail after you as if they are lurking predators and you being the prey.

Many shoot you harsh dirty looks, raising their voices every time you saunter through the corridor about what an ungrateful, insolent bitch you are to break poor Kirishima’s heart into shambles.

Insults are thrown your way, slips of paper filled with harsh messages flood your locker; and once in a while, some students would purposely stand in your way, intentionally bumping their shoulders into yours and shoving you out of the way. Even your own classmates from class A whom you’ve gone through thick and thin with side with the disconsolate male, muttering about how all of this would’ve been avoidable if you’d simply said ‘yes’.

School has become an absolute nightmare for you for the next couple of weeks; and to make matters worse, the school authority doesn’t do much to alleviate the situation, merely giving verbal warnings about how bullying on school grounds is unacceptable before moving on with settling their own matters. You’ve tried to ignore everything that happens in school, you really did. Yet with the weight of it all come crushing down upon your shoulders, you eventually find yourself teetering on the brink of suffering from a mental breakdown.

For countless nights you would cry yourself to sleep, burying yourself beneath layers of blankets in order to forget about the pain. Still, it does nothing to alleviate your suffering and you wake up to find the dark circles under your eyes growing bigger with each passing day. The vicious cycle continues, with you trapped in the centre of it. Perhaps this is your punishment after all — your consequence for hurting a fellow classmate who is loved by everyone.

And maybe it’s about time you fix your mistakes before it is too late.

“Kiri ...” You bow deeply as an apology at the surprised redhead when you manage to drag him out of the classroom during break time under the prying eyes of everyone poking their heads out from the corridor, brushing aside the mean comments reverberating in the air.

“I’ve been thinking about it ... and I realise I’m wrong. Maybe I was too quick to jump to conclusions, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give things a try. I’m ... I’m sorry for hurting your feelings, and yes. Let’s give this relationship a try, shall we?”

Oddly enough, the bullying vanishes into thin air once words are spread around the school that the two of you are dating.

three

Being in a relationship with the boisterous redhead isn’t as bad as you had imagined, but you wish there is something you could do to get yourself out of this mess. Kirishima isn’t a terrible lover at all; he has been nothing but loving, kind and openly affectionate with you at all times. You would’ve regarded him as the perfect partner for life — if not the fact that he pries a bit too much about your personal space and social circle, making you utterly uncomfortable.

You totally understand his intentions, albeit thinking that it would’ve been better if he knows not to cross certain boundaries. Regardless, every time you try to bring the subject up, Kirishima would invariably find a way to divert the topic of discussion. Still, you need to make sure he understands the message; and so comes a certain night, when you decide to sit down and settle matters with your boyfriend.

“Eijirou, we ... we need to talk.”

“What do you want to talk about babe?”

“I ... I think I need a break — for this relationship I mean.” Hearing that, the redhead’s smile falters.

“Why? I ... I thought everything was going perfectly! You’re happy, I’m happy. Isn’t that good enough for you?”

With tears squeezed forth from the pro hero’s waterline, he lunges forth to grab at your arms, nails digging a bit deeper into your skin than a normal lover should. Despite wincing at the pain, you shift your gaze away from your crying boyfriend, reminding yourself of the inordinate number of occurrences that Kirishima has guilt-tripped you into pushing your boundaries. Seeing the unfazed expression on your face only makes chagrin seethe in the redhead’s chest even more. You love him just as much as he loves you, right? Why would you go to such lengths to destroy everything? Why would you risk all that there is to tear yourself away from his life?

“Tell me babe ...” The rawness laced in his voice is more than evident to drive your frozen heart on the verge of breaking, his unanswered pleas coming out as a broken record. “Do you hate me that much ... that you want to leave?”

Taking your silent nodding as a yes, Kirishima’s chest aches more than ever. Being a professional hero is never easy; the weight upon his shoulders increases excruciatingly as he steadily climbs up the ranks. Together with shouldering the guilt of the lives he once failed to save, the suffocation is immense. You are his elixir, his solace every time he returns home battered and utterly drained day after day of repetitive villain fighting. Your presence is all that it takes to save him, and he has become a hero — your hero. He has dedicated his all to protect the city.

So why couldn’t you just do the same for the sake of his sanity?

“... I understand.” Pulling himself out of his pensive mindset, the redhead finally compromises. “But I have one last request: there would be a hero gala this Friday, and all I want is for the two of us to go as a couple for one last time before this relationship ends. Would ... would that be fine with you?”

You agree without hesitation, relief surging through you as if a weight has been lifted off your chest. Your wishes have finally been answered, and freedom is just within arm’s reach.

Or so you thought.

four

You hate him for putting you in the limelight.

Still, you are to blame as well. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been so gullible in the first place, believing that Kirishima Eijirou is a man of his world.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, a wry grin adorns your face as a team of makeup artists and hair stylists prepares you for the grand wedding, gushing about how lucky you are to charm your way into the chivalrous redhead’s heart and the privilege for you to be his one and only blushing bride (except that all of this is out of your own will — more like enforced onto you). Despite being dressed in the most elegant wedding gown you’ve ever seen and having your features accentuated with powdery makeup, you don’t feel elated to the slightest. Most girls would be thrilled on their wedding days, yet you couldn’t even bring yourself to smile.

If you had unveiled Kirishima’s lies, would all of these happen in the first place?

“Everyone ... there is something I would like to announce.” Having said that, the hero gives your hand a gentle squeeze whilst the two of you walk onto the podium situated at the centre of the banquet hall where the gala is held. Thinking that the redhead is about to reveal the breakup to the others, you don’t have much on your mind at that particular moment — that is.

Not until the entire outcome of the jamboree changes completely when Kirishima gets to his knees without warning and pulls out a shimmering diamond ring before you even get to scream at him about what the fuck is going on.

“y/n ...” Deceptively adoring eyes that make your stomach churn bore into the depths of your betrayed ones as the redhead shamelessly plays his trickster part well, ignoring your hushed protests while he pulls off an elaborate performance in front of the party guests, his sinister intentions masked beneath the innocent smile and corny confession of love.

“For as long as I could remember, we have been with each other through highs and lows. You are everything to me and I wish I could cherish this bond for a lifetime ... would you make me the happiest man on earth — and marry me?”

That son of a bitch —

Following that, claps and cheers resonate in the expanse of the arena, overshadowing the choked sobs ripped from none other than your throat. You should’ve expected this, for a lovesick bastard like Kirishima to resort to such abject measures when he runs out of options to make you stay by his side, forcing you to accept his proposal under the pressure of the gathering crowd.

You hate him.

You despise him more than anyone else. That said, it isn’t like you have a choice to get yourself out of this predicament; and with a heavy heart, you could only follow along the scripted play, feigning tears of joy as you reluctantly mumble your response. A cheeky smile stretches across your fiancé’s face as he does what every engaged couple would do: slipping the ring onto your finger and showering you with kisses whilst surrounded by incessant blessings of fellow pro heroes and friends alike.

“You look stunning today, love.” Catching a glimpse of slicked vermilion hair, you cannot think of an alternative response other than flashing the grinning groom a prominent scowl. “Now don’t give me a face like that. It’s our wedding day, we should be happy right —”

“Cut the bullshit.” You spit with raging fury, tears rolling down your face as you back away from your husband-to-be. “You’ve ruined my happiness and my future, yet you have the audacity to act like this? To be all smiles in front of me? I never want to be with you in the first place Kirishima Eijirou! Hell — I never want to date you!”

Your words pierce his throbbing heart, but the redhead can’t care less. Taking a step closer at a time, he easily towers over you; tenderly caressing your stained cheeks, Kirishima gives his final warning.

“Love, it’s my word over yours. Who do you think people would believe? An up-and-rising pro hero, or a civilian like you? Also, even if you manage to leave me, how long do you think you can sustain your own living out there? I wonder if anyone would hire you ... if I told them every bit of info I have on you —“

Pupil-blown and legs shaking, you fall limply beneath his intense stare.

“You ... you wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh yes I would.” Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Kirishima saunters out of the door. “Now ask your stylists to touch up on your makeup, wouldn’t want to look like a crying mess on your special day. Would you?”

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aiyexayen · 3 years

Note

So uh that essay about how Wei Ying takes after Yu Ziyuan? I am LISTENING

There were two things that really made me start to think about this, one was this tweet which says, "You know what we don't talk about? Wei Wuxian getting his cry-laughing from Madam Yu" and this incredible ChengXian video which sets their relationship to the tune of When Doves Cry and wrecks me every time I watch it (I just watched it now when I went to get the link and I'm whimpering).

As to the first matter:

seems fairly conclusive.

The second matter:

maybe I'm just like my father, too bold maybe you're just like my mother-- she's never satisfied

Was there this much meta thought put into one line of lyrics in a video set to When Doves Cry? Hard to say. There is now, though! Because dang, what a line. Essay under the cut.

There's a (valid) tendency to pull out the ways Jiang Cheng is more like his mother, and the ways Wei Wuxian is more like Jiang Fengmian, especially where their relationship is concerned.

Jiang Cheng wants proof of care through passion, through a willingness to fight. He will provoke and poke at things better left lying, with no shame and no regard to who else is around, dredge up old hurts and old grudges and old matters even if they're long buried or long forgiven, so long as he thinks it will get him the reaction he's looking for.

He wants Wei Wuxian to fix things by rising to the bait, rising to the challenge, giving him pushback when he says blatant lies, showing him that his shige still thinks he's worth it.

This is terribly unhealthy, of course, don't do this at home kids, but it's one of my core Jiang Cheng Truths.

Jiang Cheng shows that he cares in turn by being willing to fight, by pouring his emotion out even if those often end up as negative expressions. He's messy and unrestrained when he feels things, not all of which is from his mother--a lot of that is just Jiang Cheng--however, you can see the way he tries to rein in his emotions when he's embarrassed about caring or is trying to pretend that he doesn't care. Whether it's pretending to shrug off Wei Wuxian and walk away when they have a problem, or trying to rein in his temper at Lan Wangji on Dafan Mountain. Because from his mother, he's internalised the message that to engage in the fight is proof of care, so the opposite is also true.

And oh, when he hurts, he seeks to hurt back. That's very Yu Ziyuan of him.

Wei Wuxian, meanwhile, frequently defaults to calming and placating with Jiang Cheng. Not as much as Jiang Yanli does--but more on her, momentarily. We see Wei Wuxian complain at Jiang Cheng to not get riled up, tell him he's being stubborn and just to accept the peace offering, etc. The difference is that, at first, with Jiang Cheng, a lot of that is just general pouty childishness and Wei Ying-ing, general sibling shit.

Plus, he was still willing to fight/express himself fully. They fought a lot. He always ran after Jiang Cheng, always roped him into expressing himself, always let Jiang Cheng fight it out. He understood, at least intuitively, and he didn't back down. The benefits of having grown up together, and of being an older one/middle sibling in the dynamic.

But when things really started to break down between him and Jiang Cheng, when the conflict was much bigger, much more grown up, much more real, Wei Wuxian started modeling his behaviour even more on Jiang Fengmian in regards to Jiang Cheng, possibly seeing more of Yu-furen in Jiang Cheng and responding the way that felt natural.

(Also, a lot of his own guilt and depression/apathy/intent to die and assorted other issues came into play at roughly the same time.)

Thus, we see Wei Wuxian start to turn down Jiang Cheng more often, and back off. He shrugs it off or rejects it when Jiang Cheng reaches out, and he stops reaching out himself. He tries to placate Jiang Cheng, tries to defuse him, tries to send him away. Some of this is because he cares and is trying to show he cares by taking himself out of the situation; some because he's trying to maintain his lies; some because he just doesn't have the energy to deal with this anymore.

After Wei Wuxian is resurrected, by which point he's done what he perceives as the worst things to Jiang Cheng, this intensifies. Jiang Cheng provokes him beyond reason, lashes out, starts fights, sneers, and Wei Wuxian almost rises to the bait but he stops himself. He lets Jiang Cheng be angry and he shrinks himself down, he backs away, he disengages. A decent portion of this is Wei Wuxian himself, and his faulty perspective on the situation and on Jiang Cheng's anger and complexity of emotion and intent. Some of it is lingering relationship modeling off of Jiang-shushu and Yu-furen's relationship. Either way, he's definitely "being the Jiang Fengmian" in the situation.

Additionally, Wei Wuxian tries quite actively to model himself off of Jiang-shushu's good qualities, which is understandable given that this was his primary benevolent adult figure and liked him quite a lot. We see it in the way Wei Wuxian teaches, the way he instructs with archery, the fact he prioritises archery to begin with, the way he expresses kindness the way it was expressed to him, through encouragement or noticing people who are down and out. Things that Wei Wuxian, at least, attributes to Jiang Fengmian's character (I'm trying so hard not to make this a Jiang Fengmian salt post) even if a lot of that is just his own outlook on life at the end of the day.

But all of these kids were around both of these parental figures/people of authority. This is most clear in Jiang Yanli. We see the way she's become a mediator figure between her parents when they're upset with each other and understands them both.

She takes all the kind intent and patience and willingness to placate and calm from her father, and adds in the knowledge and understanding needed to actually use it interpersonally. She's more open with communication, can identify the heart of an issue, and effectively diffuse a lot of tension. She has middling success with this with regards to her parents, but a lot more success with her brothers. It helps her see eye to eye with Wei Wuxian, and share that spark of playfulness between them too. It helps her understand why Jiang Cheng says things the way he does, and what he means.

We also see Jiang Yanli reveal herself to be the steely, fiery daughter of Zi Zhizhu when someone attacks what is hers. She is just as much her mother's child.

So, too, Jiang Cheng is his father's son. I think this is true much more when he grows up and inherits the sect and has held it for some time in the wake of tragedy. We see evidence that he's become a well-regarded leader, and for all we see cool, flashing, calculating glares and bitten-back sneers, we see worried disciples fussing over his health. We see a mild manner that was learned, and an authority that has accrued with time, and a self-assuredness when dealing with his peers that seems more modeled off what we see of Jiang Fengmian than of Yu Ziyuan.

Jiang Cheng is a match for Zidian, through and through, but he is also steady and determined and bold, good at making and keeping allies, or else how could he have achieved the impossible in rebuilding his sect? He learned to take some of his mother, some of his father, find something left over of himself out of the wreckage of his life, and meld it all together.

That brings us to Wei Wuxian. I had, at the time of first seeing that tweet, showed it to a friend who said:

Are we gonna talk about how Wei Ying gets his cry-laugh from her? Are we gonna talk about how he learned that intense glare from her, too? Or his tendency to act swiftly and decisively even when it might not be the actual best course of action? Or his violent protectiveness of his siblings?

Inspired. And yes, we are.

Yu-furen was a figure of absolute strength in Wei Wuxian's life. Uncompromising, unyielding, impressive as hell. She had the capacity to inspire deep loyalty and was fiercely protective over things that were hers. Her son, her daughter, her family's reputation, her sect, her home, her disciple. (Yes, even Wei Wuxian was hers, too, she made quite the point about that.)

Wei Wuxian is very easygoing. But when he decides something is his, whether that's a duty or a person or whatever, it's his to protect, it's his to do anything for, even cause a scene, even start a war, even lose allies or his own life. It's one surefire way to get him to fight no matter what headspace he's in.

You can see Jiang Cheng realise/remember this in real time in the Ancestral Hall, when he can't get a rise out of Wei Wuxian by talking about himself and his family, and that stings, but he's desperate to get a rise out of him somehow, and immediately he sets in on Lan Wangji. And it fucking works. That's what gets Wei Wuxian to almost fight him. If he'd posed a real threat, and if a whole bunch of other complicated psychological shit wasn't part of the mix for everyone involved, there would absolutely have been a fight.

Wei Wuxian latched onto the Wens, yes, and they were his, too, but they weren't the only ones. Lotus Pier was his, as was Jiang Cheng. Yunmeng Shuangjie was not just a pipe dream, and Wei Wuxian's loyalty was not simply easy to sway. Yunmeng Jiang's strength, their reputation, their future, and Jiang Cheng's along with it were always on his mind.

He lied, and fought, and even left and took himself out of the picture to that end. For Jiang Cheng, and for his ability to carry on. In so many ways, Wei Wuxian absolutely took so much of his perspectives on that from Yu Ziyuan, for better or worse.

Uncompromising, unyielding, even when turned on himself. Never satisfied, always pushing for more, for answers, for solutions, for the right path, even in his own frequently easygoing and curious ways. Unhesitating, across the board. Even if it meant his own life, or his core.

There is nothing wrong with hesitating. Hesitating, worrying, being uncertain, trying to think first, trying to find the right path, and then being able to find it, or choose it anyway, is such an act of courage. That's a quality Jiang Cheng has in droves. He hesitated, when he saw the Wen soldiers coming for Wei Wuxian. And then he chose to sacrifice himself. For Wei Wuxian, there was no hesitation whatsoever. No forethought. No choice, really. Just go. I think that's very Yu Ziyuan of him.

I had to go digging to find that message my friend sent me, and I'll conclude with my response:

If we're going to talk about how Wei Wuxian is like Yu-furen, then we'll have to talk about how Yu-furen knew that. Or at least, the only parts that she ever had cause to see in him while she still lived. How he was hers even if he wasn't her son. How Fengmian's lazy favouritism was intolerable in this way, too, in the way it sowed discord where there didn't need to be any, and was a barrier between her and the things that should have been more fully hers. How the farewell at Lotus Pier was more of a betrayal than she intended. How she thought she and Wei Ying met over more even ground at that moment, because she knew he loved Jiang Cheng as much as she did, in the way she did. How she expected more from him than for him to give parts himself up in such a horrifying way. How she underestimated the actual damage that had been done. And if she'd survived to see it, she just might have been truly horrified.

#a rambling essay but an essay nonetheless #the untamed meta #my meta #character analysis #i'm sure i missed some stuff but the essay was getting so long #and it's long past the due date #like i didn't even really talk too much about any potential influences on other relationships in their lives #but meh #these are just my takes on the characters #not some hard and fast rule or universal truth i'm trying to claim #i just love them #yu ziyuan #zi zhizhu #jiang fengmian #jiang cheng #jiang wanyin #wei wuxian #wei ying #jiang yanli

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animatedarchives · 4 years

Note

hi, hon! i absolutely adored your katsuki imagine, so i thought i’d request a shoto imagine. could you do an imagine where the reader’s in a quirk marriage with shoto, but the reader’s actually happy with it cuz they love the idea of love, and they think shoto’s really cute? thank you! ❤️

author’s note: HIIII CLARISSAAA i’m sorry this took so LoNG i really tried my best to write this so i really hope you like it!! thanks for requesting and for all your support I LOVE YOUUU ❤️❤️

MARRIAGE WITHOUT LOVE

— 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎

genre: fluff with a little bit of angst (because who am i without it)

warnings: unrequited love

word count: 2.3k words

“Will you marry me, Y/F/N?”

Shoto’s words echoed in your mind, the nostalgic feeling of butterflies returning as you fondly remembered his proposal. A warm smile settled upon your beautifully drawn face, your bright orbs looking tearfully at the magnificent double doors in front of you.

It was finally happening.

A warmth bubbled in your stomach as the doors finally swung open, welcoming you in with a shower of delicate rose petals. Time seemed to slow and the world faded into the background; the melodious music never reached your ears and the uncountable stares and open mouths went unnoticed. Your eyes - made up with beautiful eyeshadow and a light coat of mascara - focused on one thing and one thing alone: him. You didn’t even remember kissing your father’s cheek as he left your side to take his seat. All you knew was the feeling of your small, dainty hands slipping into Shoto’s gentle but strong ones.

A small voice inside your head nibbled away at your consciousness, trying to drag you out of the clouds and back into the harsh reality. But as you looked at the man standing in front of you, the very same one you fell in love with, your heart began to swell and you pushed those thoughts aside, wanting to remain in your rose-coloured world for a little while longer.

The officiant’s words passed by you soundlessly, your heart fluttering at the thought of being wed to the love of your life for the rest of eternity. Barely able to contain your excitement, you examined your fiance’s perfectly sculpted face to distract yourself from the burning anticipation. But as you did so, the whispers in your head grew louder, harsher and more incessant. Their words clouded your mind, and the glimmer of hope you held onto slipped right through your fingers.

This was just a quirk marriage-

No.

You didn’t want to believe it. You wanted this to be the love you had always imagined, the ones in the fairytales you had always read growing up. But as you scrutinised every detail of his face - his less-than-elated expression and the small smile that never fully reached his eyes - the truth slapped you in the face. Your heart began to sink as you realised that the love you had always wanted just wasn’t yours to own.

This was just a quirk marriage.

And Shoto didn’t really love you.

You tried for so long to pry your heart from his hold, doing anything to convince yourself to stop loving him. But no matter how hard you tried, your eyes would always drift back, for it knew where your heart belonged. That was why you agreed to this loveless marriage; your heart refused to be swayed and you just could not imagine spending the rest of your life with anyone else, even if he didn’t love you. In any case, you would much rather love and not be loved back than to be loved but not be able to feel anything from it.

“Upon request, L/N will be sharing her vows first. L/N, please,” the officiant said, allowing you to take the spotlight. Before the wedding day, Shoto had asked if you were alright with saying your vows first. You thought it was rather uncharacteristic of him to suggest, especially considering how traditional he was, but you didn’t overthink it and agreed without a fuss. Clearing your throat, you looked adoringly into his eyes as you recited your love letter aloud for everyone to hear.

“Todoroki Shoto, the only man my heart has ever belonged to,” your voice trembled. You paused to take a breath, calming yourself and focusing on the feeling of Shoto’s comforting touch.

“I’ve always idolised the idea of love, dreaming about how it would feel to have my prince charming sweep me off my feet as he kissed me passionately. When I met you, I thought you were the furthest person from that ideal - you were cold, emotionless and unpassionate about everything except yourself because you wanted to be the best,” you said. You shook your head amusedly as the words left your mouth, your past thoughts seeming so ridiculous now, as you stood at the altar. “As I got to know you, I slowly started to understand. I began to see the determined boy who worked so hard to protect those he cared about. I treasured each rare smile and precious laugh that graced your stoic face. I caught a glimpse of the steady fire burning in this icy cavern and I couldn’t help but be drawn to its warmth. And slowly…” you trailed off, hoping your veil concealed your blush as much as you wanted it to.

“Slowly, you became the prince I had always dreamed about.”

The audience sighed dreamily as you publicly confessed your love for him. Even Shoto’s expression softens as he smiles at your sweet words.

“I know going from a platonic relationship to a romantic one is difficult, even impossible for some people,” you said, glancing at him knowingly. “But it was definitely not impossible for me,” you smiled, praying it didn’t look as sad as you felt.

“Shoto, I promise to love you unconditionally, with all my heart, my soul and my strength, for the rest of my life. I willingly give you every piece of me because I wholly trust you with everything that I have. I promise to be there whenever you need help and to never leave your side or let you face things alone. I vow to always give you the affection you deserve and I will never ever stop loving you, both in this life and the next.”

The tiniest bit of wetness coated your lashes as you finished your speech and you tried your best to blink them away before they ruined your makeup.

“Thank you, L/N, that was absolutely beautiful,” the officiant smiled, genuinely moved by your words. “Todoroki, your vows, please,” he probed before stepping back to let your fiance speak. Shoto spared a quick side glance at his father who sat proudly at the front, his massive form blocking the poor audience’s view of this magical moment. His father was the only other person in the room besides the two of you that knew about the pretence of this marriage. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself to say the words he had so carefully crafted and memorised weeks before.

“Children grow up by learning from their parents and their teachings,” he started, avoiding direct eye contact with his parents, who were sitting at polar ends of the front row. “Mine didn’t have the best relationship and every night, I would hide under the blankets in my room, wishing for better days I wasn’t sure would ever come.”

You had heard this story a million times before, yet your heart still broke every single time he told it.

“I never knew what love was, but I knew what it wasn’t,” he continued, trying to bring some hope back into the audience’s hearts.

“Love wasn’t selfish; it was about giving to the other person and always putting them first before yourself. And the one who taught me all this wasn’t my parents… It was you,” he said as he gazed into your eyes.

“When we first met, I felt strangely inferior because I knew you were a better hero than me, but I didn’t understand why. However, on the second day of the internship we did together back in UA, I realised what it was,” he said, recounting the memory.

“It was love,” he smiled softly.

“I remember watching how much you cared for others, putting your life on the line to protect them even though you were injured,” he recalled. You could barely remember all this happening, but it touched your heart that he treasured the memory so much that he remembered every little detail. “Your selfless actions opened my eyes to what I was lacking,” he continued. “It wasn’t power that would make me the best hero; it was my heart for those I wanted to protect.”

“If I were the number one hero, I would be defeating villains left and right, and have all the fame and money in the world. Yet after a long day of work, I’d still return home unhappy and purposeless. Without people I loved, who would I be fighting for? But if I didn’t have power, if I were quirkless even, it would be the people I loved that would give me the strength to face the world every day. Even without any powers, I would not be powerless at all. And…” his voice softened, barely a whisper. Emotions swirled in his eyes as his next few words ghosted his lips.

“... I would be happy.”

You never expected Shoto to be this vulnerable; he had rarely shared this much in private, let alone in public. Even so, you couldn’t help but hope he continued, the curiosity within you eagerly craving for more.

“The lesson you taught me is something I will cherish forever, and something I want to pass on to my children: the source of your strength does not come from your physical capabilities, but the purpose inside of you, the reason you fight, and the people your heart burns for.”

“That’s why I could never just marry for power. The pretence of a quirk marriage was just so I could get my father’s blessing,” he finally admitted.

Discourse shook the crowd as people murmured amongst themselves. Even you were completely floored by Shoto’s confession. You looked worriedly at Endeavor who was fuming in his seat, outraged by the revelation of his son’s blatant lies, and understandably so. Declaring his true intentions and exposing his false claims to his father in front of everyone at his own wedding? Truly the ultimate act of rebellion. Endeavor was about to storm right up to the altar when your friends held him back in his seat, quieting the crowd in the process.

Suddenly, you felt Shoto’s fingers under your chin, gently guiding your face back to his. Your thoughts were completely muddled, everything happening so fast and all at once. If he wasn’t marrying you for your quirk… then…

Your breath hitched as realisation dawned upon you, his next few words being the only thing you could hear.

“I’m marrying you because I love you, Y/N.”

You didn’t know how you were still standing when all your brain was doing was malfunctioning and trying not to spontaneously combust.

“You are my purpose. You are the reason I fight. And the fire within me, the one you said you were drawn to, is the same one that burns brightly for you.”

Your heart was pounding so furiously against your ribcage, you thought it would explode. For so long you had convinced yourself that your feelings were not returned that you couldn’t possibly believe it was true. And yet, every fibre of your being wanted to believe it, hoping so dearly that it wasn’t just a dream. No amount of joy could ever compare to what you were feeling in that moment.

“L/N Y/N, I promise to never hide my true emotions from you anymore. I will openly and wholeheartedly love you with every piece of me, and I will not hold back ever again, no matter what anyone says. I will always be by your side, protecting you and our love as we face the world together.”

Despite mustering all of your willpower, a tear still slipped from your eye, but was effortlessly wiped away by the man you would now call yours forever. All those years of wishing and hoping had amounted to something: your dreams had come true, and fantasy had become your reality.

“That was truly touching. Though it came as a surprise, it was not unwelcome in the least,” the officiant smiled at Shoto, who returned it gratefully. “You may now present your rings to each other.”

Shoto gracefully extended his left palm. “May I have your hand, my princess?” he asked with the same gorgeous smile that had first captivated your heart. Still high on euphoria, you grinned and gingerly placed your left hand in his. The warmth of his hand contrasted beautifully against the cool metal as he slid on the glittering diamond ring. It was absolutely flawless, just like everything else about that day. Reluctantly, you pulled your eyes away from the stunning jewel to return the favour, slipping the ring onto his left hand. It fit perfectly on his finger as if it were made for him, just like you were.

“Finally, the moment we’ve all been waiting for: I now pronounce you husband and wife!” the officiant announced proudly. “You may kiss the bride,” he said under his breath, a cheeky smirk evident on his face. You barely had time to register the hollers and whistles in the background as Shoto scooped you up in his strong, muscular arms and planted a passionate kiss on your lips. It was everything you had ever imagined it to be and more.

As he broke the kiss to admire your gorgeous face, his eyes sparkled, brimming with abundant love and adoration for his new wife.

“I’m sorry your prince charming took so long.”

You beamed at his sweet apology, forgiving him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and gently pushed his head down to close the space between you. You loved the taste of his lips against yours and could hardly believe you had unlimited access to it for the rest of your life.

“Finally, you’re no longer my princess, but my queen.”

You couldn’t do anything but smile, the butterflies in your stomach finally bursting free from the cage they had been contained in for so long. As you walked down the aisle for the second time, you couldn’t help but think of the stark contrast between both times you graced it: first, the bittersweet feeling of entering a one-sided marriage and now, the overwhelming joy you currently felt knowing it was no longer one-sided.

The fresh breeze outside complemented the new air of romance between the newly wedded couple. Jumping into his arms once more, he spun you around as you both laughed in pure bliss.

This wasn’t just a quirk marriage.

And Shoto really loved you.

Certainly, this was your happily ever after.

632 notes · View notes

patchies · 3 years

Text

Shadows

Pairing: Dream x Reader x ???

Summary: An apocalyptic world where creatures of the night roam all around it. Searching for living beings to satisfy their hunger. Vicious creatures they are. It’s said that one person called upon their wrath in revenge. You awake in this place with another human being at your side. No memories whatsoever of the life you’ve had prior to coming here. In search of a way out, and your memories, you stumble upon multiple people with many personalities. Some can’t wait to meet you. If you take it the friendly or hostile way is up to you, but worry not… Nothing can hurt you. Or can it, now?

Warnings: nothing too serious

Word Count: 2.9+k

Author's Note: Another chapter, yay! Hope you enjoy, guys! I'm sending you all love. Each and every one of you matters!

Wattpad link: here

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Chapter 5: Uneasiness

As it turned out, you bumped into Nick as you were heading back towards your home. He was quick to pull out his weapon, but you recognised him immediately and called at him. You saw him look at his main hand that was holding the hatchet and upon following his sight, you rapidly retracted your hand from his and looked away. In awkwardness, you missed the confusion etched on his face.

You both apologised instantly, both in different reasons, and he stashed the armament back into its strap and ruffled your hair. Something you had done to Tubbo not so long ago, but you suppose you deserved it.

On your way home, you had talked about your ventures. Nick gloating about his glory and how he's been more productive than you were, claiming how getting a friend instead of proper gear is lame. You knew he was teasing you, but you caught a slight bit of hesitation and envy shine through. Though, you shrugged it off for the time being.

Nick gifted you a bayonet with a white string tied around the handle and a bandana of your favourite colour as you were standing before your home. You gave him a quick hug before putting the knife into your bag and tying the cloth article around your head. He whistled as you now wore one, too.

For the rest of the day, you stored away your findings with tales of your journeys. Mostly Nick's, since you had to be honest and say he did a great job at scouting the east side of the town. Though, you told him some details about Tubbo and your time with the boy, dodging certain parts as you felt it wasn't your thing to reveal to him.

You were a little scared to tell him about their settlement the bee boy mentioned to you, but Nick seemed to know exactly what you were talking about. He had seen it from one of the taller apartments and showed you an impromptu map that he drew quickly.

To your surprise, the portrayal was decently drawn and his handwriting was legible, though he still suggested he's willing to show you the place. What didn't miss him was the chance to announce how he'll turn it into a date where you'll lie under the stars with a wink to add to the spice.

You punched his arm while he laughed it off, slouching his hit arm across your shoulder and pulling you close. This time, you jab at his ribs and he lets you go voluntarily, still laughing. It didn't even seem like you had done something to him, so you stuck your tongue at him and rushed up the stairs to sort out your own things.

A feeling like something is going to go terrible wrong sits in the pit of your stomach as you rummage through the chest.

• • •

The night comes quicker than you expect, and a not-so-stray feeling of anxiety begins to flow through your veins accompanied by your pacing as the sun slowly falls beyond your view.

The first two knocks executed on the door go unnoticed by you. It's the third one that stops you in your tracks and you go open the door for Nick, resuming your pacing once he's inside. He notices your jittery movement straight away and quirks an eyebrow at you, “You okay there?”

“Do I look like I'm okay?” You mutter to yourself, but he hears it nonetheless, “Who would be at the thought of some dangerous creatures lurking in the town at night?”

Nick sighs and slowly saunters to your side, gently resting his hands on your upper arms and makes you face him, “You weren't scared yesterday, what has changed?”

“I don't know,” you shrug, “maybe the bad feeling in my stomach that has persevered since we came home?”

“Okay, okay, smartass,” Nick's retort is light-hearted, only meant to get a smile out of you, “We are both spooked, but c'mon… What's this scowl doing on your face, pretty?”

Before you can react quickly, or protest, he flicks the skin in-between your eyebrows and tugs your lips into a smile. You grasp his wrists with your hands to lower his down and a small smile does make its way onto your face. There's no denying that he makes this hell of a place better, but there's a tight feeling in your chest at the thought of what lies in this world. You don't know if you'll ever get used to this and you seriously hope you don't even need to do that. This is a nightmare come true on its own, why would anyone want this to be real?

Your eyes shift around the room and you step away from Sap, letting his wrists fall free in the process. The lights are turned off in case there really is someone else and they might notice the lit-up house from afar. You aren't going to give people the chance of figuring out where your base is, if there are more groups alive than you realize. Even if it's people similar to Tubbo. There might be some help to find in his group, but you aren't willing to familiarise with them. Nick is the only person that you truly trust as of right now and you believe that it could be okay like this for the time being. You'll survive this. Through thick and thin, hopefully.

“We'll get through this,” he raises three of his fingers while holding his pinkie with his thumb, straightening his back. His face changes to a stern look, but silliness dances in his brown orbs, “Scout's honour.”

He expects the roll of your eyes, but the small laugh that escapes you makes his heart swell with an unknown feeling. He doesn't pay it much attention, just silently watches as you sit down on the bed against the headboard. Nick joins you in a while and gazes at you as you rest your head on his shoulder, “I honestly don't know what to expect at all and I'm worried, Sap. It's so hard to rest when my stomach is churning like I'm going to vomit.”

You feel his arm snake behind your neck and his nimble fingers soon start working their magic on your scalp, “We'll be fine, okay? There's nothing that would separate you and me. I won't leave you.”

Just then, a whistling noise echoes throughout the neighbourhood. An eerie melody that travels across the quiet street. Visible confusion is etched onto your face as you exchange looks with Nick.

The tune starts to raise its volume and it puts you, along with your companion, on guard. You wonder who is out there and what they're trying to achieve. You aren't one to test your luck, so despite your heart telling you to check the situation, you stay rooted to your spot. You were hoping the feeling wasn't going to be true, but here you are; hearing the whistles of someone unknown.

“Hey, hey,” Sap takes your hand in his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. He leans into your view, trying to hypnotise your eyes to look into his. When he doesn't succeed, he shuffles in front of you and waits until your focus is solely on him. He gives you a soft smile, “I'm here with you. Nothing is going happen to us, I promise, and knowing you, you'd sass your way out of the situation.”

“Nick,” you start, “We've known each other for hardly three days.”

“So, what? It might be true, but your sass is immeasurable at times and you've hit me so much I lost count a long time ago,” he laughs quietly, then his laugh slowly transforms into a smirk. A teasing realisation present on his face, “You're literally hitting on me, baby.”

You groan, “I pity the person who will be with you, seriously, and don't you dare call me baby again.”

“You're with me,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, squeezing your hand playfully, “and about the 'baby' part… By seeing your reaction, I'd say I'm going to use it more often.”

Nick isn't ready for the switch of your personality as you decide to smile at him sweetly, lifting one of his hands close to your face, watching him intently. He visibly gulps and you have to push back a laugh to maintain your innocent façade. You put his hand on your cheek and lean into his palm. You stay in that position for a few seconds before rapidly moving your head and attempting to bite his finger. Your attempt is unsuccessful as he quickly retracts his hand and clutches it to his chest protectively, giving you a shocked look.

“Did I render you speechless, baby?”

The pet-name rolls of your tongue with ease. It seems so natural coming from you and his heart clearly betrays him when he feels its pace quicken. He quickly recovers, though, acting like what's just happened actually didn't, “I mean, my tactic at distracting you worked, so who's the winner here?”

“Certainly not you.”

The mood drops when you finally register the quietness, looking around you for any signs that could tell you what's happening. No whistling is heard, and you contemplate checking the windows to gather some sort of information regarding the stillness on the street. Nick gives an affirmative nod towards the boarded-up windows and gets off the bed with you. He follows your footsteps in silence, hovering over your shoulder as you get nearer.

A bolt whizzes through the air and before you can say anything, it strikes one of the planks in front of you. You flinch back into Sap's chest, guard rising, “Go take something so you could defend yourself, too, please.”

He gives you a side glance, inspecting your features, but you've put on a neutral blockage, “Will you be fine?”

The shrug you give him doesn't lower his worry and he analyses you one more time. He walks off in search of anything sharp and usable after you signal your certainty. As he leaves, you eye the bayonet strapped to your thigh. The metal weapon giving you at least some sort of reassurance.

Pure silence follows and you hold your breath in as you glance through the gaps in the barricade. Someone is definitely too close to your preference, yet you can't see anyone outside. They're hostile, that's without doubt. The bolt that clearly sticks out of the wood is an obvious proof of the hostility.

The moon's glow then reveals a person standing in its light, illuminating their figure.

They have a pig mask on with small tusks protruding from the side and a hood over their head with thick white fur adorning the sides of it. Raspberry pink, clearly chopped, shoulder-length hair visibly poking out and the wind ruffling it a bit. A shiny golden crown, which adorns gems of multiple colours, rests atop. You can't phantom how it's holding on the hood. Their crimson red cape with golden clasps and rubies attached to it flows in the wind and the crossbow's metal parts are shining. There's a satchel of bolts attached to the side of their thigh as they balance on the roof across from you.

“Who are you ogling at?”

The whisper against your ear makes you swat at his chest, shushing him immediately. He feigns being hurt, but raises his arms to swat at you back. It's when the figure proceeds to speak do you stop and a realisation comes to you that it is in fact a male, “Dream, I warned you to not come here. Ever. Wasn't the last time enough for you?”

Your interest peaks at the mention of a past encounter the supposedly two people had, wondering how that one had gone. From his words, it doesn't sound like it went very greatly and completely not in favour of Dream's side. What moved him into trying to take over the land again if he knew he had lost the last fight?

Nick watches your investment in the conversation rise, so he just crosses his arms. The hatchet at his hip ready to be taken out in case something was to happen. Though, he settles for watching you for now.

“I don't care, Techno. I own these lands. It's only fair that you will surrender and hand it over.”

“Don't make us fight you, pig.”

Another voice; another male one. This time it's slightly higher pitched than the other two, an obvious British accent to its overall sound.

Just from a few spoken sentences, you can tell both sides are ready to fight. What you aren't sure of, is if they'll really start fighting here or leave to sort it out elsewhere. You're praying it's the latter. Although your hopes aren't high when you continue listening in on their conversation.

“And I don't care, because you're stepping foot into my territory,” Techno, or whatever they called him, continues, “I shot a warning shot to gain your attention, but I will make sure to be precise this time and aim for your vulnerable body parts. Especially you and not a wooden plank. You damn well know I hold poison bolts and the two of you surely recognise my capabilities with a crossbow. You get struck with one, just one, poison arrow and you can go back to your village to get it taken care of.”

Territory? What's he talking about– wait… Don't tell me he's protecting us…?

You can't see the others, but you get a feeling Techno is more important than them. For whatever reason that is, you aren't able to steer your eyes away from his figure. A sense of déjà vu flowing through your body as you marvel at the man. You believe you've seen this man before. Even if once in your life, but your foggy memory blocks any of this information from you.

Unexpectedly he turns his head towards the window you're looking out of and locks eyes with you. Maroon eyes that sparkle with mischief meeting yours. He cocks an eyebrow at you, as if challenging you. Unable to see it, nor perceive it as a challenge, you deliver no reply. You're more than curious by the exchange, but it doesn't seem to faze him in the slightest. Even though he noticed you, he doesn't do anything about you. Merely directs his gaze back to the people below him. Which strikes you as weird since you were guessing he'd do something. Literally anything. Yet, you're glad for his act of kindness. If it can be interpreted as such.

You completely miss the way Nick looks at you. The gears in his head turning at the strange stare off you two had. Do they know the guy? He doesn't like the look of the Techno guy at all and the ping of jealousy seems to agree with him as well. He knows it well, yet he just rests his hand on your shoulder.

“We have armour and there's two of us. You can't fight us both and win.”

“I wouldn't be so sure of your words,” the reply is overly confident, “I've fought many and still came out with no scratches. You're belittling my knowledge of fighting and tactical thinking.”

After Techno finishes his sentence, arrows and bolts go flying through the air.

The very first one coming from him as another warning shot. This time not aimed at your house, but at the ground. Another two come from the ground level but miss him by a few feet. Terribly aimed shots, if you have to say (not like you could do better, but you're just a spectator in this situation). They don't seem to be that good at aiming at the pink-haired man, rather missing him. To your bewilderment, he never flinches or tries to dodge. Basically, a still target for both of the shooters.

Not that his aim is any better, but you hear one of the guys wince multiple times as if the bolt scraped him. The distance is also something to take into consideration.

The final shot before the shooting halts is taken by Techno, who decides to truly aim at one of them and you can hear a high-pitched scream echo throughout the whole street.

This can't be good.

You start hearing the inhuman screeches from everywhere and Shadows start flying from the end of the street. You gasp in horror because this isn't what you were expecting. You didn't expect them to attract a whole bunch of the creatures and possibly doom you all.

“George! You idiot! You were supposed to dodge, not walk straight into his range!” Dream yells at the whining guy, “You've attracted Shadows now. Good job.”

“Look what you've–”

The rest of the words are tuned out by the screeches of the monsters. Nick squats down to the floor, tugging you along with him. He doesn't let you say a word as you sit next to each other, holding a finger to his mouth when he sees you ready to tell him something.

While you rest your heads against one another, both of you come to terms that sound attracts them very easily as you hear them bang against trash cans and dumpsters, chasing their intruders. You wait until you hear no more screeching, slowly rising to your feet and looking through the gaps once more to check for any signs of the creatures.

When you find none, you send Nick to his own bedroom, insisting you'll be fine. He gives you three chances to back down from your statement, but you persist through. As he has no reason not to trust you, he slowly retreats to his room with a promise that if you need anything, just to wake him up.

#technoblade #dream #sapnap #apocalypse au #reader insert #mcyt x reader #mcyt #techno #dream team #dream x reader #dreamwastaken #l'manburg #shadows #??? x reader

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neutron-stars-collision · 3 years

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 8 - Parisian Nightmares

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Summary: With Neil MIA you have some time to think about everything that happened. But you are not allowed peace at all..

Warnings: Swearing.

Author’s Notes: The longest chapter yet, so sorry for that. It’s a little bit of a filler slower one so hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think!

Supposedly the idea of having lunch with TP would have scared you more if it was not for the way he guided you through the experience. He ordered food from the dining hall and made sure you had your coffee before starting any serious topics. Your tired and confused self really appreciated the efforts.

“So what do you want to talk about?” you asked after finally feeling more like a functioning human being.

“I thought we could discuss the things to come…” he briefly searched for the right words “Parts of it is what Neil already knows, but some details are not meant for him” he looked at you with a serious gaze “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course” you nodded, feeling both intrigued and nervous.

Ever since the topic of The Algorithm has been first breached, you hoped to learn more. Probably Neil’s presence would have helped at the moment, but if that was not possible then you just had to face the truth calmly. If not now, then when?

“Can I ask something first?”

“Go ahead”

“My recruitment… it wasn’t just because I was recommended by my professor, was it?” you felt like you already knew the answer but had to ask anyway.

“No” TP smiled “I knew from a good source that we had to recruit you”

You stared at him, desperately trying to comprehend what he meant. Suddenly you understood Neil and his despise of half-truths.

“Can I ask who’s that source?”

TP just smiled apologetically, and you groaned.

“Right. Did Neil know?”

“No, I only told him that you have to be enlisted” at your questioning stare, he added “It’s safer that way” he shrugged as though it explained everything.

It did not, but you began to understand that it was not meant to make sense. A sentence said during one of your early lectures rung out in your head: Don’t try to understand it. Feel it. Maybe that was the whole point.

“So that’s how you know that I’ll be needed during the plan? From the source?”

“Kind of” he grinned again “It’s a very reliable source, I must add” he looked at you pointedly and laughed at your confused face “I swear this will get clearer with time”

The reassuring smile made you feel somewhat better. Taking a sip of the coffee, you considered what was being said.

“When does it all begin?”

“With action in Kiev Opera in a month, more or less. But in reality, it already began years ago”

You frowned, feeling your head go blank. TP was smiling, clearly enjoying your utter confusion.

“It’s okay, you’ll catch up eventually”

“Thanks, that’s encouraging” you lightly smacked him in the shoulder.

“I’ll give you more information leading up to Kiev and then after” he explained after a short silence “But you can’t know the whole progression of events. I’m the only one who is cursed with that”

The sudden change in the tone made you stare at him curiously. But his face was like a mask.

“For now though, you don’t need to worry about it” he smiled again “I’m sending you out on a quiet mission to Paris with one of our agents”

That was surprising. But you could do with a distraction.

“Okay… what’s the deal?” you leaned onto the table and flashed him a brilliant smile.

“You have to research one shady guy in Paris. It’s just observation so no need for engagement. The only trick is that you have to pose as a newlywed couple” he looked at you expectantly.

Oh…

“How long will this take?” you tried to focus on the details, not to think too much about the implications of the cover.

“Three weeks” he smiled at your glare “What? It’s gonna be nice! Three weeks in Paris and all you have to do is observe our target, Pierre or whatshisname, and cosy up with Jasper” the overly enthusiastic tone made you laugh.

“You made it sound almost fun” you admitted after calming down a little.

“Well, it’s always a break from spending time with Neil” TP looked at you with an amused expression “I’m sure you could use some of that” he winked.

You shot daggers in his direction, all the while feeling your face grow warm. Admittingly, time without Neil could be useful. You just were not sure it would do much at this point. You were beyond saving.

“When do I begin?”

“You’ll have a mission briefing tomorrow, and that’s also when you’ll meet Jasper” you nodded “And now I think you should rest a little” he eyed you carefully.

“You’re probably right” you both got up “Thanks for the lunch and the chat… It helped” you smiled lightly.

“My pleasure” he ignored your outstretched hand and gave you a quick hug.

After a small hesitation, you returned the gesture. It felt familiar, and you had no clue why.

“If you ever need anything, you know where to find me” TP smiled at you warmly.

“I’ll remember that” you grinned back and moved to open the door.

“Oh and don’t worry about Neil” you stopped in your tracks and turned to stare at him “I know that he can be extremely annoying, but he really cares about you”

You were speechless and could only nod in response. The Protagonist laughed at your expression before shooing you out of the room with a gesture. You gladly did just that.

*** One thing was for certain, life without Neil could be boring. You found out that much from the moment you came back to your room. After making sure the main casualty of the mission – your dress – was in the washing, you spent most of that afternoon staring at the ceiling. You were mostly thinking about how much your life has changed in the last weeks. And trying to avoid thinking about him because that could never end well. But of course, the universe had other plans.

Just as you were dealing with the fact that the dress was utterly ruined, your phone buzzed. It was late, and the number was used solely for personal reasons, so the sound made you frown. You looked at the screen to find a text message from an unknown number:

“How’s the dress?”

There was no signature, but you knew.

“How did you get my number?” you replied and quickly saved his contact details.

It didn’t take him longer than a minute to respond.

“Used the charm you’re so quick to ignore”

Ah, Anna’s help then.

“Why?”

“Couldn’t imagine not bothering you for too long”

You covered your face with your hands for a few seconds before typing back.

“The dress is ruined, so thanks for nothing”

The speed with which he responded took you aback. Surely he’d have better things to do...? It did not seem so.

“It’s hardly my fault, is it? That wasn’t my idea” you could almost imagine the self-satisfied grin.

“Point taken” you hit the sent button and then took a deep breath.

It’s not too early for double texting, is it?

“Where are you?” you typed another message before throwing the phone on the other side of the bed.

When it buzzed again, you regretted the decision. Pretending that you would be able to resist reading the message immediately was pointless. You reached for the phone and read his answer:

“On the way to Boston airport”

Great. At least now you knew that he is not around, and you can have time to think. But with those texts, it might be harder to do. Before you could overthink the response, another one came through.

“Be honest, how bored are you without me?” you wondered how someone could be so annoying via text message.

“I’ve been assigned a little mission in Paris, actually. With Jasper. So not that bored, thank you very much”

This time it took him longer to respond. Approximately 6 minutes. Not that you were counting.

“You’ll be bored soon enough if you’ll be stuck somewhere with Jasper. What’s the cover?”

You did not like the assumption, but who were you to argue.

“Newlyweds enjoying honeymoon” you typed back and closed your eyes.

Somehow his response to that information mattered a lot.

“I guarantee you’ll wish it was me soon enough” Fucking hell.

“That’s a bit narcissistic, don’t you think?”

“Maybe a little. But once you meet him, you’ll know I’m right”

“Well then I won’t hesitate to report back after the meeting” you replied and made sure to prepare yourself for the mission brief.

After you were done with planning the outfit and packing your folder, you glanced at the phone.

“Please do. I need to know what dear Jasper is up to these days”

“If you’re so curious about him, maybe ask Anna for his number ;) Sure she’d never deny you anything”

You weren’t sure where that came from, but sure enough, you were not going to take it back.

“Wow… Is that jealousy I’m sensing?”

“You wish” you glanced at the clock and realised how late it was.

“Goodnight, Neil” you sent him another text and went to the bathroom.

When you were back there was a message waiting for you.

“Sweet dreams, darling”

You groaned. In the end, it seemed like you will not be able to get a break from Neil. What a shame.

*** From the moment you stepped into the conference hall in the morning, you knew that Neil was right. Jasper was not one of the most entertaining people you have ever met. When you were introduced to each other he barely glanced up from the folder to look at you and half-heartedly shook your outstretched hand. You took a long look at him and his short brown hair and hazel eyes. He did look decent, to be fair. But he was not Neil. And you hated that your brain made that comparison straightaway.

“So what’s the task, boss?” the first time you heard his voice was when he addressed the Protagonist.

“You have to observe the target, Pierre Armand, who’s an inverted weapons dealer. You’re supposed to watch his every move and send daily updates but don’t engage. That will be the job for another team” TP looked at you both intently “Your cover is a newlywed couple going by the surname Morgan and who have just moved into their lovely suite next door to Armand” you’d swear he winked at you.

You glared back while your newly assigned partner studied the folder attentively. You wondered if he ever did anything else.

“When do we leave?” you decided to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Your plane is tomorrow afternoon” you nodded “Any other questions?” when neither of you spoke, he added “So I’ll leave you two to get acquittanced”

You stared at TP panicked, but he only flashed you one cheeky smile and left the room. That did explain why he and Neil got along so well. Grudgingly you turned towards Jasper, who was still pre-occupied with the damn folder. You cleared your throat, and he glanced up.

“So… have you been working here for a while?” you were shit at small talk.

“For three years now” he eyed you up sceptically “You’re the new recruit from London, aren’t you?” you could almost hear the condescension.

“Yes” it was not looking promising “Neil recruited me, and we’ve just been on a mission together in New York” you added.

It was a mistake. At the mention of Neil, Jasper’s eyes flared up, and he looked at you sharply.

“I heard that mission was a major fuck up” the vicious smirk took you aback “And poor Neil got shot”

You could only stare in confusion at the man in front of you. Boring and clearly having issues with Neil. Just bloody perfect.

“Anyway, I got to prepare” he got up “But mind you, Paris won’t be at all like an operation with that idiot” he glared at you.

“And what’s an operation with him like?” you were genuinely curious at this point.

“Overly dramatic” he made a grand gesture with his hands before slamming the doors in the wake of his exit.

He did have a point there. You sighed, grabbed your documents, and exited the hall. On the way to your room, you decided to give in to the temptation and typed a message to Neil.

“With grief, I have to admit you were right about Jasper”

You were not expecting a response instantly, so the buzz when you were pouring coffee into the cup made you jump up. Neil could make your life harder, even remotely.

“Told you. How is he doing?” you read the reply and grinned at the casual tone.

“He’s grumpy and hates you for some reason. Can’t wait to be stuck with him for three weeks” you sighed and accepted the grim fate.

“Sounds like him then. You never know, you might bond over your shared hatred for me”

You nearly choked on your coffee then. A fellow agent passing by on the corridor stared at you. This could only get worse.

“Think my hatred towards you has nothing compared to his. Any ideas why he’s like that?”

“Nothing concrete, but I’ve got a few vague theories. I’ll tell you when I’m back”

“Hope so. What time is it there?” closing the door to your room, you could finally behave like an idiot.

“Past 11 pm. Excited for your outing with Jasper?”

Asia then… You tried to think about any possible places he could be but came up with too many options.

“Not at all. Fully expecting my days will be spent wandering around Paris alone or watching French HGTV”

You decided to look through the folder to distract yourself from the increasing stress. This time you were supposed to be Amelia Morgan, wife to Nicholas Morgan. Amelia’s occupation was being an accountant, which sounded extremely boring, but at least you would get to experience the city. Your study was then interrupted by another text.

“You can always message me if you’re bored”

Tempting.

“Careful because I might”

“You better” To that, you did not know what to say,. so you just got lost in the preparations for the mission. This one was not looking good but there was no other choice. So you just focused on learning about your target. At least this time, there was no one to distract you.

Until another text came, a solid hour later.

“One clue about Jasper: Anna”

Oh not her again.

“Don’t tell me he’s hopelessly in love with her”

“Perhaps… And well, she has eyes for someone else so” and then “Not to be smug naturally”

You grinned at the screen.

“You do sound smug”

You had to admit that if Neil’s theory was true, it was rather heart-breaking for both Anna and Jasper. Not that you felt sorry for either of them.

“He might decide to take revenge upon me by breaking your heart”

You stared at the text and the many implications he could have meant it by it. And it was too much to figure out right now. Instead, you just typed back:

“Good luck to him” and then, with heart thumping wildly “Would you care if he did?”

You tried to ignore the phone when the answer came. But after an agonising minute spent reading the same two words over and over, you gave in.

“Maybe”

Right… You just had to add that question to the long list for when he’s back. You closed the folder with a flourish. All mental coherence was gone.

*** It turned out that Neil was not right about everything. If Jasper ever intended to claim and then break your heart, he was utterly shit at it. Since the day you moved into your cosy Parisian flat, he barely spoke a word to you. Most of the time, he was buried nose deep in the mission briefs or books related to strategies and secrets of arms dealing. If you had tasks to complete, he would often sideline you before doing the job himself while ignoring any help you offered. To put it straightforwardly, he pissed you off.

And yet, his eagerness to be entirely self-dependent meant that you had time to discover Paris and relax while still completing the mission in any way you could. You also had more than enough time to text Neil, who always responded to your messages promptly. You sometimes wondered if he ever slept or did anything but talk to you. Not that you did mind, of course.

Your patience towards Jasper, his silence and superiority complex snapped for the first time after a week and a half. You have both been sitting in the living room of your condo, just after finishing quiet dinner. You were bored, extremely so. You have reached for the television remote with the intent to put on some background noise to ease the tension. But the moment you have switched the tv on, Jasper spoke:

“Don’t turn this shit on, it’s distracting” he has not even lifted his head from the folder he was studying.

You glared at him sharply and decided that you have had enough.

“Distracting from what? It’s not like you’ve not read this at least five times today already”

That made him look up. And he was not happy.

“I’m working. You should try that sometimes” he eyed you pointedly.

“I would if you ever gave me a chance to do anything” you shrugged, already not liking the conversation.

“I gave you a few opportunities, but you were just lazy” he placed his documents aside and went back to glaring at you “All you do is knock around Paris and stay on your phone for hours” a vicious smile appeared on his face “You’re texting Neil, aren’t you?”

You were taken aback by the whole situation and unable to deny the truth. “Even if I am, that’s none of your business” you were desperately hoping he would shut up.

But it was too late, and Jasper has clearly been triggered.

“That’s quite pathetic. You should know he never actually cares about all those girls he flirts with” he seemed to judge you “And I don’t see why you could be different” the smug smile was cruel.

Now you knew why it was better when he stayed quiet. You scrambled for any words of defence, but he managed to hit the mark. Swallowing hard, you schooled your face and replied in the most neutral tone you could muster at the moment.

“I think you’re just pissed Anna prefers Neil over you”

That worked. You watched with satisfaction as his eyes widened, and you silently thanked Neil for the information.

“Anna has nothing to do with this” it was his turn to stumble over the words “You’re just unwilling to face the truth” this time his harsh words lacked the sureness.

You were winning.

“So are you” you shrugged “I’ve had enough of this. You can go back to your precious mission briefs” you got up and left the room without a further glance.

You had to admit that his words did upset you. Even when you almost certainly knew he was wrong your brain had its own doubts. Because what if he was right? That would hurt, more than you could acknowledge.

But before you could begin the overthinking, the phone you threw onto the bed buzzed. He always knew when to message.

“How’s married life with Jasper going?”

And naturally, he always asked the right questions too. You did hate him for that.

“Now I know why it’s better he reads his documents instead of talking” you replied and debated what to do next.

“What did he do?” Neil quickly texted back even though you were pretty sure it was early morning hours for him.

You did not want to get into a serious conversation over the texts.

“He got a bit riled up and said some bullshit that wasn’t fun to listen to” that seemed like an easy way out for now.

“Do you want me to send a team to eliminate him? It would look like an accident”

You laughed at the tempting proposition.

“I’ll think about it”

“Are you alright?” you stared at the new message.

You were not exactly alright.

“I will be”

Why did lying feel so bad?

You switched off the lights in the room and lied on the bed. Just a week and a half to go. You’ve got this… right?

*** The last week in Paris passed in relative peace. Mostly because you and Jasper stopped speaking to each other entirely. Occasionally you would notice his cruel smirk appear when he caught you texting, and you did your best to ignore it. However, it did hurt, and you had to admit that one argument has managed to uproot all the confidence you have had.

Peace ended abruptly on the penultimate day when it became clear that you were being followed. Jasper caught on to the fact after he noticed someone shadow you on your walk through the city. You hid in one of the cafes as soon as he has signalled the fact to you. You knew he was right the moment a random man peered into the darkened premises and then went on to loiter nearby.

“Right, what do we do?” you looked around, trying to stay calm.

It seemed like no one else was onto you. Jasper already looked pissed off, and you wondered if it meant that more pleasant things would be said.

“I suspect they’ve got doubts about the authenticity of our story” he was intensely scanning the horizon, looking for any threats “He’s still there, waiting for us to blow the cover or prove him wrong” he turned to you with the most unhappy face you have ever seen.

“What is it?”

You were not sure you wanted to know the answer.

“We made it this far. I’m not letting them fuck it up” he leaned towards you and closed the gap.

You were frozen in horror before your brain caught up with the fact that Jasper was kissing you. Then you closed your eyes and tried to reciprocate with the minimum effort needed for it to look believable. It was pretty horrible, to put it simply. He was kissing you sloppily with a tempo that you could not match. You felt his hand clumsily entangle in your hair only to make you flinch when he ripped out a few hairs. After a solid 30 seconds long snog, you decided that had enough. You leaned back, ignoring the overwhelming urge to wipe your lips with the napkin. He stared at you briefly with that same disgusted face before discretely looking for your trail. The man was gone. You could only hope it worked as you exited the café, holding hands.

On the way back to the apartment, you refused to look at him, somehow hoping that would get rid of the awful way you felt. Naturally, being a spy did involve doing things like that but for some reason, it was not easy. You hated the fact that your brain kept on rewinding memories from New York and, in the process, making you feel worse. Once you made it back, you locked yourself in the room, leaving Jasper to fill in the report. You were tempted to message Neil just for the sake of knowing his thoughts on what happened.

“Today was my lucky day, and I got to experience PDA with Jasper. Send help”

That would do nicely, right?

“Must say I didn’t expect that”

As you were desperately looking for something to text back, your phone did something you did not expect it to do. It rang. You stared in shock as Neil’s number flashed as the caller ID. With a shaking hand, you picked up the phone and pressed the green button.

“Neil?” your voice sounded incredibly awkward.

Great start.

“What happened?” hearing his voice after those three weeks felt surreal.

Was it your imagination, or did he sound slightly tense?

“Um… we were being followed outside, so we entered a café. The tail was observing us and…” you took a deep breath, suddenly extremely nervous “And Jasper decided to kiss me to authenticate the cover”

Neil was silent, and that did not help with the irrational anxiety, so you rambled on, losing control of what you were saying.

“Well, it was more of a snog judging by how it lasted for thirty seconds, but I think they bought…”

“Okay, stop” he interrupted you abruptly “I’m not sure I want to know the details”

“Why not?” somehow out of the mixture of anxiety and insecurity, annoyance emerged “Are you jealous?”

You regretted the question as soon as it left your mouth. And did not want to know the answer. Luckily he did not respond. Instead, he did what Neil does best:

“Who’s a better kisser?”

You could not believe the nerve of this man.

“You can’t be for real” you muttered and heard him chuckle on the other side.

“It’s a legitimate question” you could picture the shrug and a cheeky smile.

It seemed like the initial awkwardness was gone. At least for him.

“I…” you huffed, unable to express the mess of emotions you felt.

“Oh, I know it’s you, but I’m asking about me and dear Jasper”

If he were in front of you, you would have punched him. But instead could only let out a frustrated groan and attempt to answer the question. There was only one way to do it.

“You” you mumbled, making sure your voice was barely coherent.

But of course, he heard you.

“I’m flattered” he had the smug tone nailed to the t.

“Fantastic” you sighed “Why did you call me?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice”

“Right”

“And to get you to answer the question”

“Of course” you sighed again “Now I should finish before Jasper barges in” That was partially an excuse, partially a real concern as you glanced nervously at the thin doors separating the rooms.

“Sure, don’t want you upsetting your husband. However, I’d love to see his face when he hears that I kiss better than him” Neil mused, and you gave yourself the liberty to just listen to his voice.

“Well, I’m not telling him that so feel free to do so when you meet up”

Your ears perked up at the sound of footsteps in the hall. Surely Jasper would not eavesdrop on you…?

“I’ve got to go, bye Neil” you hoped your tone sounded at least half as urgent as you felt.

“Goodbye, love. Don’t let that idiot get to you”

“I’ll try”

You hung up just as the doors to the bedroom opened. Sure enough, Jasper was stood there, with a scowl on his face.

“What were you doing?”

“Just being pathetic, I guess” you shrugged and walked past him without a glance.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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yeojaa · 3 years

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IDK IF UR STILL TAKING REQUESTS🥺🥺🥺 sorry if IM botherinh😭😭 BUT MYBE A FINDERS KEEP HERS drabble where jk n oc get in to an argument after chap 3 n jk apologizes or something like that😭😭🥺😭🥺🥺

[ read part one / main story ]

pairing. jjk x f!reader. rating. general. tags. this is soft angst. JK being his usual idiot self, reader being... well, sad, and yeah. just pain (but w a resolution. ish). wc. 1.5k. beta reader. @hobi-gif beta’d a bit of this but i wrote most of it after so any dumb mistakes are my fault and my fault alone. 🤡 author note. this isn’t 100% what you requested but... the first part kind of is, and then this is the resolution (because people requested it). if you’d like another drabble, please feel free to request!

In true fashion, Jungkook tries to fix the problem in the only way he knows how: with money.

He puts the two of you up at the Four Seasons for the entire week, orders room service at all hours of the day and has treats from all of your favourite spots in the city delivered. (Macarons, candied nuts, that one bakery that does those salted honey pies you inhale like a wild animal.) He runs baths for you, fills the tub with your favourite scents (always Diptyque) and massages his tattooed hands all over your scalp. He makes sure you wake up to the smell of French toast and fall asleep on a bed of roses, curled up in his arms and little else.

He spoils you until you can hardly see the floor, designer shopping bags strewn throughout the suite. (His sisters help him decide what to buy, mouths sealed shut otherwise. They know better than to get too involved in his relationship with you.) Dinner is somewhere new every night but always at a Michelin-starred restaurant, space booked out to the extent it’s just the two of you and a bouquet of your favourite flowers.

Of course, he thinks things are better. Assumes they must be, because there’s never been a time where money hasn’t solved his problems. No matter how much, throw enough of it at something and the problem will go away.

But you don’t go away. Neither does your sadness.

“Baby.” It’s your last night together before you’re back to some semblance of normalcy (not that Jungkook’s life was very normal to begin with). He thinks he’ll miss it more than you will, if your lacklustre reactions have been any indication.

You’re fresh out of the shower - you’d turned down his offer of a bath, locked the door on your way into the washroom - and wrapped in a fuzzy white robe. “What?” You’re focused on running a comb through your hair, unbothered by your boyfriend who sits at the edge of the bed, legs wide and hands extended toward you.

It bothers him a bit (read: a lot). You’re better than you were, offering tiny smiles when he begs for them, accepting his kisses without complaint. It isn’t you though. Not the snark and the sass and the decades of friendship that normally thread your relationship. A book with its spine about to snap, held together by cobweb.

Despite the time you’ve spent together the last few days - almost every hour, sans when you were at work - you’ve been distant still. Not mean, of course (no, never mean, because you’ve always been soft on him) but different. Softer and harder all at once.

“Come here,” he coaxes, fingers curling around your wrist, pulling you between his knees effortlessly.

Normally, you’d curl around his shoulders, rake your nails through his hair. This time, you only allow yourself to be with him, palms flat upon the ridges of muscle plating his back. You don’t pass affection into his hair, don’t form a cradle for him to rest his head. (It doesn’t feel like home - not like it should.)

Jungkook hates it. Absolutely fucking abhors it. He wants his girlfriend - his best friend, his love - back. Not this spectre that’s taken up your space.

(He almost forgets that he’s the reason you’re the way you are.)

“What’s wrong?” The shape of his mouth curls, bottom lip pouting into that trademark expression that usually has you relenting, melting into a puddle of goo in his arms.

This time, you shrug, movement dislodging the soft soft terry cloth from your shoulders. “Nothing.” Dumb as he might be - oblivious in the way only someone like he can be - he can tell you’re lying. Offering the untruth right between your teeth, expecting him to accept it.

That bothers him even more. It’s one thing to put up an act, entertain him as if you were a court jester. It’s entirely another to treat him as if he’s a child, feeding him lies without a care.

(Notwithstanding the fact that Jeon Jungkook is, for all intents and purposes, a manchild.)

“You’re a shit liar,” he retorts, grumpy, coloured green and blue until his insides feel like mud. It’s strange, the discomfort that sinks beneath his skin and sticks his bones together. Like wading through quicksand or a bog, stuck to a place he doesn’t want to be. “Talk to me.”

“About what?” You’re deflecting, refusing to meet his stare, holding yourself within the confines of your robe as if you can’t bear to open up to him.

That hurts more than he expects. Slips sadness in alongside the frustration.

“About what’s bothering you.” The fact he has to do this is driving him mad. It’s akin to pulling teeth and he hates the dentist.

You scoff then - which he doesn’t expect. The sound kicks him right in the stomach, a sucker punch he doesn’t see coming. “You want me to talk about you?” It’s an uncharacteristically mean answer, brought on by whatever’s been bothering you, turning blood to battery acid.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

For the briefest moment, he considers lashing out in response - giving back exactly what he’s getting. But then he spies it, just there, past the usual warmth of your stare. It’s hiding behind crystallised amber, peeking past the edges. So much sadness it steals his breath right from his lungs, stripping him bare of red hot fury and leaving him lily white and lovesick.

When Jungkook speaks again, it’s feather soft, terribly light, begging and pleading in a single utterance. “Please.”

There’s silence for a beat, then another. It stings for each second it continues, treading misery all over the thing that beats in his chest. He’s not used to this. (You’re his first and only love. A part of him is grateful for that; another hates even this.)

He almost asks again - readies it on the tip of his tongue.

Then you’re unloading, giving him everything he’d asked for and more.

“I love you,” you tell him in a reedy voice, uneven like the foundation you’ve built together. Haphazardly thrown into place and hoped for the best on. “But you’re an idiot.”

(He deserves that, he supposes.)

Your voice is static, stretched thin and gossamer thin. Cheek pressed to his curls, you find comfort in your hiding place, as if shielded by the dark. “I’ve loved you for years and that’ll never stop. But when you do stupid shit, it’s so hard.” Your words are honeyed, thick and heavy as they lay into each strand, seep quietly into his ears. Where they’d normally fill him with ecstasy, delight, send him on a sugar high - these ache, sink right to the pit of his stomach. “I would give you anything. Anything.”

“I know.” Really, he does. He’s known that since you were kids. It’s why he’d fallen in love with you, even before he’d realised he had.

“Then why do you test me?”

It’s not rhetorical. You want an answer - something real you can hold between your hands. Something to act as the salve for all the hurt, to bandage the wounds left behind by your uncertainty. (He’s the same as you - needs to know he means as much to you as you do him. But you show it in different ways and that’s what’s brought the two of you to this point.)

“I’m sorry,” he answers, sliding his arms more securely around your waist, face buried into the soft fabric of the robe, into the warmth that lies beneath, into the heart that beats a rhythm identical to his.

“I don’t want sorry.” After all, you’d already gotten one. Weeks ago, when he’d pulled the stupid sophomoric stunt, he’d apologised. Had been apologising every day since then, but in all the wrong ways. “I want better.”

It’s as if all of his bones have been cracked open, the weight of your words settling like sand, discomfort and grit snapping his head to attention. “You want better?” There’s nothing but alarm in Jungkook’s expression, eyes wide, throat knotted in worry. “I—”

As always, you read him like an open book. Hands smooth down the sides of his cheeks, palms searing over his reddened cheeks. “Not like that.” You’re reassuring him even as it should be the other way around. (How ironic.)

He exhales a deep breath. Doesn’t tear his stare from yours.

“I just need you to be better.” You’d never ask this of him if it weren’t important, if you didn’t feel his ignorance and immaturity splintering your insides into glass shards. You’ve always accepted him exactly as he was, all the good and bad and ridiculous.

This is different though. You love him. You’re taking a chance with him just as he is with you. Laying your heart in his hands and trusting him to keep it safe, handing out the key in the hopes of building a home.

So you ask - for both your sakes.

He promises he will be and you believe him. Have to.

For both of your sakes.

#anon.eml #incoming.eml #work.zip #drabble.zip #finders.doc #bts au #bts imagine #bts drabble #bts angst #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook drabble #jungkook angst #jungkook imagine #jungkook.doc #bts

106 notes · View notes