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one-boring-person · 3 years

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You forced this upon yourself😂 you forced this rambo simp.(and i dont mind)

Okay this may not be as good! But! Im giving you the liberty to take it where you want!(because i love your little details and how you express the feeling in your writing i- AH! Its great. I cant say it enough, it’s great. I mean it.)

How about Rambo finally getting enough courage to show The rancher around the tunnels, in a date sort of way!(they don’t know thats actually where he lives. Aka that photo i showed you before.) i really saw how the rancher was so happy to have him at their house, I’d love to see rambos side of scheduling a house tour and date type deal!! Maybe him even sitting and showing the rancher through all his old photos, and them just in awe because wow. He’s so much cooler than they even thought! He just so nervous and surprised seeing them so interested in him after all this time alone, and them just- in awe of him.

( i also really think it would be funny seeing rambo go through his friends house and seeing-“why the hell you have so many plants???” And just. Adorable assassin living with a wholesome and loving hardworking s/o)

Ah! Im sorry if that’s not as good!! But hey, you feel free to describe their antics and relationship as you will!!

I think I may have run a bit with this, but I hope you like it regardless!😊💛

I've Got Your Back, You've Got Mine.

John Rambo (Rambo IV/V) x reader

Warnings: mention of death, mention of war, mention of injury, mention of PTSD, mention of violence, (possible flash warning for gif?)

Masterlist

The heavy knock on the door surprises me where I'm sitting, the sharp sound snapping me from my thoughts. Looking over at it from my position at the table, I frown and set down my spoon, standing to go answer, unsure of who it is: I'm not expecting anyone today. Colt looks up from his place on the floor, the dog just as curious as I am as to whom it may be, though he doesn't bark, so it must be someone we know. He watches me as I cross the room, going straight to the door.

Opening it, I'm somewhat surprised to see my neighbour, John, standing there, a tentative smile on his face as he looks me over appreciatively, his gaze drawing a blush to my face.

"Mornin' (Y/n)." He greets, rough voice friendly as he waits for me to let him in.

"Morning John." I smile back, delighted to see him, "What can I do for you?"

I step back, waiting for him to enter, which he does so with a nod of thanks.

"Since when have I needed a reason to see you?" The veteran chuckles, the sound reverberating within me, my brain subconsciously storing the action away for later recall. Gently, John moves into my space, one hand coming to lightly rest on my hips as the other cups my face, drawing me in for a slow kiss.

Kissing back, I feel a glow of happiness flare up in me at this contact: he's never really one to initiate touch like this, so it's a whole lot more intimate when he does. Relaxed, I loosely wrap my arms around his neck, languidly caressing his dark hair as our lips move together.

Being the killjoy he often loves to be, Colt pushes in between us, nosing at John's leg, tail wagging enthusiastically as he recognises the familiar man, the dog as fond of his company as I am. Chuckling, John and I pull apart, looking down at the large canine between us, the dark eyes staring up at us imploring us to pay attention to him. Still smiling, John lowers a hand to scratch Colt's head, ruffling his floppy ears a little as the dog instantly allows his mouth to hang open, tongue lolling in content.

"Hey, Colt." The veteran greets, biting back a laugh as the dog pushes me out of the way, nudging at John's stomach.

"He never gets that excited to see me." I complain jokingly, standing back to watch the two interact, a smile playing at my lips.

"Sure he does." John replies, eyes fixing on mine with an expression of fondness, one that had me weak at the knees.

"He really doesn't, he just sits in the corner and whines at me until I feed him. Isn't that right?" I address the dog himself, giving him a light slap on the rear, his ridiculous height meaning I can quite easily reach it, "Anyhow, did you need something? Or did you just come here to kiss me? I can't say I'll complain if that's the case."

Cheekily, I wink at the veteran, leaning back against a nearby counter.

"As nice as that sounds, it's not the reason I came by." He chuckles, blushing lightly, "Though that does sound good."

Grinning, I nod my agreement, only now taking in his body language: he's nervous. His hands fidget, rubbing his fingers over scars and lines on his palms, and he shifts from foot to foot every now and then, small tells he's never quite managed to hide from me.

"Is something up?" I ask him, slightly more serious this time, unnerved by his discomfort.

"No, no, not at all. I, err, well, I just wanted to ask you something." He rubs the back of his neck, head tilted to the side as he regards me, dark eyes fixed on mine.

"Ok, go for it." I prompt him, curiosity sparking my interest.

"Well, do you wanna come to mine? I mean properly, like in the house." John cocks his head to the side, lowering his arm again.

Blinking, I feel shock flood my system, before it turns to unbelievable happiness that he's trusting me enough to come into his private space. Initially, I can't find the right words, somehow struggling to respond, until I find my tongue again.

"I would love to, John." I agree, features lighting up as my mood brightens, "There's nothing I've really got to do today except train up one of the younger horses, so I've got as long as you want after that."

"Great. Is four o'clock alright?" The veteran smiles broadly, though he still looks somewhat nervous.

"Yeah, should be. I'll be there." I promise him, taking up my Stetson from the table as I briefly turn away to put away the plate I was using, having lost my appetite in my sudden excitement.

"I'll get it tidy." He says, looking around the room again, "I'll never understand why you have so many plants in your house. It's like a damn jungle."

At his comment, I laugh loudly, glancing around at the variety of different houseplants I have placed on various shelves, the greenery practically covering every available surface.

"Because it's way too dry to grow anything like this outside all the time. Anyway, they look nice." I shrug, calling Colt to my side as I follow John from the house, grabbing my jacket from the hook as I pass.

"But why so many?"

Once again, I shrug, following him over to a nearby post, where he's hitched Bandit, the horse I gave him a few months ago. The buckskin stallion paws at the ground, his pale coat looking as clean as ever even as he noses at the dust, the dark colouring around his eyes (the reason for his name) and legs standing out much more in the bright sun. As we approach, he looks up, snorting in greeting.

"He's looking good." I acknowledge, admiring the strong stallion appreciatively - I had reared Bandit from a foal, before I had given him to the veteran as a gift four months ago, hoping it will help him to grow his own ranch. My plan had worked, and John now has four horses, including Bandit, as well as a couple of other animals, such as a cow, a pig and five chickens. I'd sold him a couple of goats as well, but we soon found out that John and goats just didn't get along. At all.

"Yeah, he's doing well, too. Takes the training very well, too." John runs a hand through the stallion's dark mane, untying the reins.

"That's good. Reckon he'll be ready for a competition soon?"

"Should be."

Snorting again, Bandit pulls at the reins, clearly eager to get going, especially as Colt moves up to sniff at the horse's back legs. I quickly whistle him over, knowing Bandit has always been shifty around the dog.

"I'll see you at four then." I finally say, unwilling to say goodbye, even if it is only for a few hours.

"Yeah, see you then." John smiles, leaning in to kiss me again, keeping it brief this time, leaving me wishing for more, as he always does.

"See ya." I grin, watching him climb into the saddle, still somehow fluid in doing so despite his age.

Gathering the reins in hand, John adjusts himself in the saddle, before he smiles down at me again as he gently urges Bandit into motion. Obediently, the stallion moves into a swift trot, which turns into a faster canter as the two move off down the driveway, heading towards the split in the fence separating our land. I watch as they go, still finding myself enraptured by the sight of the muscular man sat astride the horse, Colt eventually snapping me from my mind as he barks at me. Shaking my head, I follow him towards the stable.

Hours later, having showered and cleaned up, I feel a sense of relief go through me as I hoist myself into the saddle secured into place on Leo's back. It's relaxing, the stallion beneath me more relaxed than the youngster I've been trying to train all day: she never gave me a break. Seemingly sensing this, as he always does, Leo flicks his ears back and nickers softly, very lightly pawing the ground as I give him a pat on the neck, glad to have a more reliable horse taking me where I need to be.

Tilting back my Stetson, I take the reins in hand and ease the stallion into a trot, intending to let him pick up his own pace, my trust in this horse far greater than in the mare from before. Obediently, Leo moves into the correct gait, the two of us moving as if as one, years of riding together having made it easy for us to become in tune with each other. Together, we start off down the road towards John's ranch, the new path we've created beaten and well-used, allowing for relatively easy riding. Leo's hooves pound the dry ground rhythmically, my hips moving in time with his every stride, the relaxing movement helping to calm the nerves that have sprung up inside me.

A part of me is still unconvinced about going into John's home. Yes, I had helped him rebuild it and had seen very little of the inside rooms, but it still feels as if I'm intruding upon the veteran's safe space, his reprieve from the cruelty of the world he lives in. Something about that doesn't sit right with me, but I tell myself it's John's decision to make, not mine, so I should trust him, which I do, wholeheartedly.

I'm still torn by the time I reach the main house, where John is already sat waiting for me in his rocking chair, dark eyes fixed on me as I approach. Lifting a hand to him, I smile and slow Leo to a halt, praising the horse as I climb down, the gray stallion nosing affectionately at me. Swiftly, I tie him to a nearby post, only to stop when John calls out to me.

"Put him in the stable for the night." He instructs me, gesturing for me to follow him as I try to fight back the sudden onslaught of racing thoughts at his implications: he wants me to stay the night?

"Sure, thanks." I smile back at him, walking after him with Leo in tow.

"Don't worry about it. It's not fair on him if he has to stay out all night." John waves me off with a short grin, "How'd training go?"

I groan.

"Not great. That horse has it in for me, I swear." I complain, rubbing at my arm, remembering the moment I got the new bruise forming there.

"Oh yeah?" He muses, looking amused.

"Yeah. She threw me off eight times!"

"Eight times? Wow, must be a new record." The veteran jokes, something that stirs up the familiar fondness inside me at his more personable behaviour.

"I reckon so. Painful one to set, though, I'll tell you." I remark, smiling broadly as we enter the stable, where I quickly house Leo next to Bandit, removing his tack and other gear.

"Must be." John watches me work, leaning against the door to the large building, muscular arms crossed over an equally muscular chest. Turning back to him, I have to stop and admire the bulging of his biceps as his hands grip his forearms, the veins I've come to love laying out a pattern on the tanned limbs. Everytime I see them, I imagine his strong arms wrapped around me, holding me safe and secure against his solid body, wishing I could feel his hands splayed against me more often.

"Like what you see?" John interrupts my thoughts, voice teasing as he lifts an eyebrow at me, almost smirking at me.

Blushing furiously, I avert my gaze, lifting a hand to gently tap the brim of my Stetson out of my vision.

"You know I do." I laugh nervously, before I look back up at him, "Anyway, since when do you use pickup lines?"

"Since I figured out they get you all flustered." His playful tone is new to me, though it's gone almost as soon as I see it, his guarded expression falling back into place as he returns within himself, probably thinking he overstepped some invisible boundary.

I still can't help stammering for a response, his gruff tone awakening something within me.

"Heh, I guess you're right." I stutter, going over to him.

Nodding, he keeps his expression straight, leading me out back to the house, where he quickly welcomes me inside.

"I tried to tidy it as much as possible, but it's still a bit messy." The veteran apologises, observing the interior of his home critically, even as I do so in awe.

The rooms, from what I can see, are mostly filled with sparse furniture, a few chairs here and there, an old sofa, a couple of vanities and dressers, with a mantlepiece in most, if not all, of them. He hasn't used much colour, but what he has used is tasteful and works well with the overall appearance. The walls, however, are what really draw me into the place.

They are littered with photographs and memorabilia, frames and objects cleaned and polished so they shine brightly in the afternoon sun, many smiling faces visible in them. Curious, I go over to one wall, looking over the array of pictures, which I now recognise to be images of John and his friends from the years he spent here. Amongst them is a creased black and white photo of a young John sat astride a horse not unlike Bandit, a broad grin on the boy's face as he stares at the camera from under a mop of thick black hair. I can feel a small smile creep onto my face at the sight of the veteran looking so happy and carefree, something I've not seen very much of at all in my time around him.

"That was my first horse, Hector. I had him until I left for the army." John says from behind me, sounding somewhat quiet, eyes softened from nostalgia as he stares at the picture along with me, "I loved him a lot, but my father always said he wasn't good enough."

His words hang in the air as I stay speechless, listening intently to what he's saying to me: it's the first I'm hearing about his life before he came here again.

"What happened to him? Hector, I mean." I ask him quietly, tearing my eyes away to look up at John.

The veteran shrugs, appearing somewhat remorseful.

"I'll never know, but I reckon my father sold him as soon as I was gone."

"Oh." I frown, glancing back at the photograph.

"The horse was getting old by that time, though. He probably wasn't much use." John chuckles wryly, moving away towards the stairs nearby, "Do you want to see upstairs?"

"Yeah, sure." I nod, following him as he ascends to the second floor, which I now see consists of three different rooms.

He takes me to the farthest, opening the door to reveal an old study, which looks as if it hasn't been used in a good few years.

"This was my father's study, where he did all his business. I was never allowed in here as a kid." John sweeps his arm around the room, staying by the threshold, as if abiding by a rule that no longer exists, "Not that I go in here that much as an adult."

I look around, finding the neat area interesting: images of a young John hovering by the door, waiting for his father to finish business entering my head.

"It's nice, I like it." I remark, turning to find him smiling very slightly at me.

"It's the only room in the house that's exactly as it used to be. I haven't had time to do up the others properly." John says, leaving the study and going back down the hall, where he opens the other two doors to reveal a bathroom and an empty room.

A dull curiosity flares up within me as I realise one thing about the top floor, but I easily find a solution to it, following John back down the stairs. As we go, however, I realise that my assumption is wrong, as the only other rooms down here are missing the one thing I'd expect in any house.

"Where do you sleep? I haven't seen a bed or anything anywhere." I ask him, cocking my head to the side as he takes me to one final door.

"I'm gonna show you." He smiles at me, before he opens the door.

I blink as I see the dark steps descending into the ground, unease biting at my throat as I flash John a hesitant look. A cool draft wafts up from the black depth, but John only chuckles and moves down into the space below, gesturing for me to follow.

"It's perfectly safe, don't worry." He calls to me, a light flickering on as he reaches the bottom of the steps, illuminating the path to me.

Swallowing, I gingerly step down the stairs, emerging into a tunnel of sorts, my curiosity piqued as I take in the chiselled walls around me, the rock cast in an odd light from the naked bulbs positioned along the length of the cavern. Struts of wood hold the ceiling steady, wiring hanging off of them in places where he's had to hastily put it all together. John watches as I take in the passage, a thoughtful look in place on his face.

"What is this place?" I wonder aloud, still taken aback by the oddity of having a tunnel beneath the house that stretches off in both directions.

"This is my safe space." The veteran informs me, urging me along with him as we go further into the tunnel, walking together for a minute before we emerge out into a larger room of sorts, which is well lit.

My eyes widen as I realise exactly what he means.

The room acts as his bedroom and bathroom, and also has space to sit and relax, the whole area having a homely feel to it. What was missing in the rooms in the house can be found down here, including more photographs, though these ones seem different to the others. They adorn the walls, all except one, which is decorated with a variety of weapons, both guns and knives. Going over to it, I look over the rifles and shotguns hooked onto the wall, struck speechless as I then turn my attention to a machete, the blade honed but chipped from use, seemingly out of place as it hangs beside another, smaller hunting knife.

Moving on, I regard the photographs, only now realising that they're military pictures, many of them containing images of a youthful John in fatigues and uniform. A smile creeps back onto my lips as I feel my eyes land on a particular image of a group of men, where I can see John standing amongst them, a triumphant grin on his face, long locks of dark hair held back by a strip of fabric around his head. The others also smile, though there's something bittersweet about the inscription at the corner of the photo: Baker Team, Vietnam. As I look past the other pictures, I notice that the team slowly dwindles, beaming faces becoming drawn and solemn, eventually just leaving two people behind. Beneath this image is another inscription: Baker Team Survivors.

"That was my team in 'Nam." John says suddenly, voice husky as he remembers the friends he had, "None of them made it back. Not really."

Eyes wide, I look back at him, taking in the distant look in his own eyes, the barely concealed grief still raw in his expression as he stares at the photographs. Noticing my gaze, John gestures for me to come sit on the edge of his bed with him, the veteran pulling another photograph from it's place on his bedside table. Doing so, I make sure I'm not touching him, but am close enough to reassure him, waiting patiently for him to start talking of his own accord, knowing that this is a sensitive subject for him.

After a moment, he starts, his voice low as he pulls me into his stories, taking me through suffocating jungles and blistering heats, through recon and rescue missions, through bloody gunfights and hellfire, through hours spent in torturous situations. He puts me in his shoes as he loses every single member of his team to the gruesome fight he should never have fought, the harrowing grief and pain of letting go of a comrade, someone who's supposed to be by your side for as long as the two of you can stay alive, laid bare for me to see and experience. And even as he moves on, back to familiar territory in the States, the fight never leaves him.

Facing harassment in what should be his safety and security, I can feel every bit of betrayal, of anger and grief that he felt as he is let down by his own country time after time, used again and again by the authorities to do their dirty work, only to be cast aside when it doesn't go their way, the old catchphrase he once lived by, "I've got your back, you've got mine" completely meaningless in this hollow life. His disgust in humanity is plain to me as he outlines his most recent forays into warfare, where the rage he felt is once again transferred to me, and I experience the violent need to take out the parasites in the world that destroy anything good that he did. It's as if I'm there with him, through everything, his description and memories so vivid they chill me to the core, keeping me hooked on his every word.

After a long while, he eventually trails off, and I realise there's a tear rolling down his cheek, his body shaking a little as he holds himself back. My heart breaking, I have to fight the urge to reach out and pull him into an embrace, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. I place my hand on his shoulder instead, rubbing the tight muscles soothingly until he looks up at me with the most heart-rending gaze I've ever seen in my life. At that point, my resolve breaks.

Carefully, I lean in and wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling the veteran towards me. He goes willingly, sobs wracking his body as he wraps his own hands around me, burying his face into my neck, tears flowing freely now as he lets himself go, each pained sound agonising to hear. Tightening my grip, I lay back onto the bed, allowing him to press his body around me, holding me against his muscular form as I rub his back, whispering soothing things to him as his breathing starts to calm a little. It takes time, but eventually he starts to relax, body going limp as he lays in my arms, his larger form awkwardly wrapped around mine as he depresses his face into the crook of my neck.

I barely hear his broken voice as he whispers to me.

"Thank you."

Breathing in his familiar scent, I just mould myself closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead as he does the same to my neck.

"I'm here for you, John. I'm here, and I'll never leave. Not as long as I live, I promise."

#rambo x reader #rambo imagine #rambo #rambo 5 #rambo last blood #rambo 4 #sylvester Stallone #John Rambo x reader #John Rambo imagine #John Rambo

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certifiedskywalker · 4 years

Text

Under the Stars - Legolas

While traversing Middle Earth, on a quest to deliver the One Ring to Mount Doom, you and the Fellowship try to move stealthily. Some are better at sneaking around than others. For instance, you seem to struggle in masking your feelings for a certain Elf. The rest of the Fellowship can so easily see the affection you hold for Legolas while you believe you’re being quite slick. Turns out, you’re the only one that was fooled.

AN: This is purely a selfish writing endeavor. I’ve been stressed and watching the LOTR and Hobbit movies to relax...I forgot how much I love Elves….Human!Reader X Legolas...

“I’m sick of smelling of grass and grime!” Merry announced. As he spoke, he dropped his cloak on a patch of nearby dirt beside the fire Boromir had begun to build. Silently, you hoped for Aragorn and Legolas to return with supper soon. Once the Hobbits’ stomachs were full, they would quiet.

Legolas had described them as ‘children’ to you one evening: once fed, quick to bed. It had been one of those first nights, back when you were too nervous, too giddy, to sleep. You would stay up with Legolas as he took watch. Despite what Gimli had told you about Elves, you found Legolas to be good company during those restless nights, a great comfort even. He would tell you stories from the centuries he had lived through and you would listen, hang off every word. When you finally did fall asleep, rare as it was those first days, it was because you felt safe with Legolas by your side.

If you dwelled too long on the memory, your face would warm with longing. How simple it had been before your heart began to complicate matters. Luckily, the Hobbits, hungry and noisy as ever, pulled you from your thoughts.

“We’re all sick,” Sam sighed as he took a seat next to haggard Frodo. “But we’ll be back at the Shire soon. Drinking and eating Rosie’s lovely supper roast.”

Boromir scoffed and shook his head at the Hobbit’s squabbling. “We have many more weeks of travel yet. Do not kid yourselves.”

Pippin frowned and plopped down beside a freshly disappointed Merry. This was the first time any of them had been away from the Shire, from their home; especially for so long. Due to that new homesickness, Boromir’s true words hit hard for the Hobbits. You gave them a sad smile before looking to Boromir. You bumped your shoulder against his to get his attention.

“Take it easy on them,” you said softly. “They’re not like us, not ready to leave home to save it at a moments notice.”

“They’re not fighters, you mean,” he countered as he struck the flint and steel. Sparks shot out from the metal and stone. After another strike, small flames began to burn. With a sigh, Boromir set his tools aside and sat back.

“You could change that, you know.” Boromir stole a glance at you, an eyebrow raised at your words. “You could teach them to fight, to defend. It would make things easier.”

“Easier?”

There was an edge to the man’s voice that caught you off guard. It was the same tone his father had used with you and Faramir when the pair of you tried to get Boromir to ditch his ‘steward prince’ duties as children. You cringed that familiar cruelty. Boromir was annoyed and you, already tired from the days travels, were not equipped to handle his irritability. You started to stand, brushing the dirt off of your trousers.

“Easier?!”

“It was just a suggestion, Boromir,” you explained, already starting to turn your back to the man. As you started to take steps into the forest, to find Aragorn and Legolas, Boromir let out a hearty laugh.

“It would be easier if you did not fawn over our dear Elf companion as well, but you seem to be falling just the same.”

You stopped dead in your tracks and felt your skin, every inch of it, warm with embarrassment. Slowly, you turned to meet Boromir’s bright eyes and knowing smirk. His expression resembled his younger self, the boy that affectionately tease you as you trained with Faramir. Growing up in Gondor with Boromir had toughened your hide to his ribbing; but this struck a chord. This was not the good-natured jokes you were used to.

Despite the truth in his teasing, Boromir’s tone was changed, twisted into something kissed by darkness.

“I know nothing of which you speak,” you replied through slightly gritted teeth. You had gone so long without anyone seemingly noting your admiration of Legolas that you were clambering for a defense.

“Oh deary me,” Gimli, groaned. You looked over at the Dwarf and saw his saddened eyes. Behind him, the Hobbits watched, wide-eyed, as you seemed to seethe.

“Everyone here sees it,” Boromir continued, “except for possibly the Elf and yourself. Blind to your own feelings and you talk of making things easier.”

Your heart leapt in your chest. For a moment, your thoughts are clouded by Legolas.

His blonde hair, flicking with the wind as you walked towards destiny, towards Mount Doom. Those first nights spent chatting about adventure. His eyes, soft as he explained to you the significance of his braids and recounted the sternness of his kingly father. For the past few days, when he wasn’t scouting ahead, he was walking by your side, letting his hand brush ever-so slightly. In those moments, you tried your hardest to keep calm, stay steady while Legolas seemed wholly unfazed by the incidental touches.

If anything it was the Elven prince who was blind, oblivious to how his mere presence was driving you mad with want. No, Boromir was wrong. You were not blind to your feelings, you were just ignoring them. Or, at least, trying to ignore them. After all, how could an Elf like Legolas, beautiful and immortal, want you?

“You are mistaken, Boromir,” you snap coldly. “I have no...inclination towards the Elf. Perhaps it is you, who is blind.”

Boromir shook his head and sighed. “You are grasping at thin air, Y/N. Even from the low spots at which they stand, the Hobbits can see your fonding eyes towards the archer.”

“Hey!” Merry stood in a flash, “we see lots of things.”

“So you agree with him?” You asked, turning to the four halflings perched beside the fire. Frodo was stunned in silence, as was Sam who had even stopped nibbling at his lembas. You imagined such human drama rarely reared its head in the Shire. Merry and Pippin, however, used to causing chaos, nodded.

“I mean, it’s the truth. Is it not?” Pippin asked, a hopeful half-smile on his lips. Despite his kind expression, you felt a bolt of hot anger in your heart.

“Not!”

“Aye, the man is right,” Gimli stood before you. Stout and strong, he looked up at you with true Dwarven candor. “Everybody sees how you look at ‘im. I don’t begin to understand it, the pointy ears and all, but-”

“Neither do I.”

The words left your lips edged with a saddening truth you were not expecting. You didn’t understand how you could fall for someone so hard, so swiftly. Let alone someone who was an Elf, an entire world away from yours. The thought brought stinging tears to your eyes. To hide them, you turned your back to the camp and started to walk into the surrounding forest.

As you left, you heard Frodo finally speak up.

“It feels that we have just begun and we are already crumbling.”

For a moment, you’re tempted to stay. Whatever feelings you had for Legolas, they were not worth tarnishing the Fellowship. But the thought of facing Boromir, the others, after they so plainly set your heart’s affection on display made you feel ill. So, you kept walking.

You walked until you found a clearing lined with grand, old trees. They towered but their branches did not dare to obscure the stars that shone down. Moonlight gleamed along the green blades of grass in the center of the clearing. The glow was soft, inviting, and you felt drawn to it.

When you moved to stand in the light, you found yourself looking up. Away from the fire light and pyres of Minas Tirith, the stars shone with abandon. Never before had you seen anything as breathtaking. Though, that wasn’t quite true.

You had seen Legolas in the heat of battle: graceful and deadly, slinging arrows with startling accuracy. From the first moment you saw him at the Council of Elrond, you knew there was a fire beneath his skin and you felt honored to see it burn in battle. You had seen his gentleness too as he studied particular flowers along the trail. As you walked with the Fellowship, you would steal sneaky glances at the Elf when he wasn’t at your side.

Apparently, your awe and stolen looks had not gone unnoticed. You winced as you thought back to the camp, to Boromir’s borderline cruelty. He had seemed different ever since you left Rivendell, ever since he learned of the Ring. Could a little band of gold, a promise of power, change a man so quickly?

You pushed the thought from your mind and tried to focus solely on the stars. In the silence, there was a brief peace. Worries slipped away, melted under the light of the Moon. The next day would come and bring fear with it. For this moment, you closed your eyes to better savor the quiet and its strange joy.

“Stars never seem to shine as brightly outside Mirkwood.”

Your eyes opened wide at the sound of Legolas’ voice. When you craned your neck and saw the Elf standing at the edge of the tree line, your breath caught. In the starlight, he looked all the more fair and handsome. His eyes, darker in the limited light, met yours and he dipped his head.

“I did not mean to frighten you,” he raised his open palms and approached you.

“No, you didn’t, I...I wasn’t expecting you.” You tore your attention away from him and looked back to the sky. It took all you had to keep your breathing steady as Legolas moved to stand at your side. From the corner of your eyes, you could see his strong shoulders, his chest, so close. Why must he stand so near?

“You were expecting someone else then?”

“I-I,” you looked back to him and saw that he was looking at the stars. Though your floundering reaction to his question did not go unnoticed. The slightest of smiles played on his pale lips. “No. No one.”

You moved your eyes back to the stars in the hopes of recovering some of your dignity. A sudden fear flooded your senses. Had he returned to camp with Aragorn? What had the others told him? You thought back to Boromir’s attitude and tensed. Before you could ask after anything, Legolas spoke up.

“Tonight, they remind me of home.”

You swallow hard before you dared to look his way. “What do you mean?”

“The stars,” he whispered, turning his gaze to yours. There was a gentleness in his features that made your chest warm. “And the company.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. “I fear I don’t understand.”

“You remind me home,” Legolas replied smoothly. You let out a forced laughed and frowned at him. Elves, by nature, were poetic but did Legolas did not see how his words could have a double meaning? He must see the pain on your face, the desperate hope his words gave you. Everyone else did, apparently.

“How could a human remind an Elf of his woodland home?”

“You are beautiful.” Legolas didn’t miss a beat with his reply.

“Legolas.” When his name fell from your lips, it was heavy and full of warning. Yet, the Elf seemed to care less as he turned his eyes back towards the sky. Silently, you cursed yourself for thinking he meant anything by the compliment.

“When I was younger, my father would bring me to the canopy to study the constellations. He would tell me the stories that accompanied them.”

Frown still firmly planted in your expression, you commented, “that doesn’t sound like the grim man you described to me.”

“He could be bitter, but beneath the asperity there was always love.”

His words stirred up for you an image of Boromir. While you heart still stung from his teasing, you could not forget the childhood you shared with him. The boy you once played with, trained with, alongside his younger brother, was still there. Buried beneath the hardened, stubborn man, but he was there all the same. There was hope for him yet.

“Love endures,” you added softly. The chilled night air gave your breath the form of a small cloud. Instinctively, you pulled at your cloak and fastened it a bit tighter around your shoulders.

“It endures all of Time and wild weather,” Legolas agreed. His eyes found yours once more and, with a look of concern, he leaned close to you. “Are you cold?”

“No, I’m not, I…”

You trailed off, unable to think clearly with Legolas so near and looking at you like that. His eyes were kind, framed by the long, fine strands of his blond hair. With his dark brows furrowed together with worry, he looked older despite the Elven gift of eternal youth. How tempted you were to reach out and pull his lips to yours. Your fingers twitched and itched to do so, but you forced your hands to stay still. Bitterly, you imagined that those in the Fellowship would smirk at you if they could see how you were acting.

“Y/N, you sh-”

“Did they tell you?”

Legolas cocked his head to the side like a confused hound. “Tell me what?”

“The Fellowship did they...I am tired of being played for a fool,” you pressed. “I have been parading about as if I have masked my every feeling yet I could be read as plainly as any tome. I refuse to believe you, with your Elven sight, could not see what mere men and Hobbits have.”

At you plea, Legolas’ straightened his posture. While he leaned towards you no longer, his eyes remained soft and as watchful as they ever were. You took in his furrowed brows and slight frown before pressing a hand to your forehead with shame. In an attempt to calm yourself, you hung your heavy head and took a deep breath.

“I, I am sorry, Legolas. I think it’s time I had some rest.”

With your hand hiding a portion of your downturned face, you did not see him move closer to you until you saw the toes of his boots before your own. Still embarrassed because of your outburst, you did not dare to move. Only when you felt slender, warm fingers wrap around your wrist did you allow your hand to fall away. When you lifted your head, you were met with Legolas’ eyes focused solely on you.

“Do not apologize, you are right. They did not tell me; they do not need to. I have seen the feelings of which you speak and I am sorry that I have been so quiet.”

A breath was hard for you to find, but when you did you used it to ask the question balanced on the tip of your tongue. “What do you mean?”

“I mean to say there are many differences between your world and mine. I should have made my feelings more clear.”

Legolas’ grip on your wrist loosened slightly and you thought he was going to let go. Your stomach dropped with the dread of an affection gone unrequited. Then, just as you felt true doom, Legolas joined his hand with yours. Your gaze fell to watch how his fingers entangled with yours. Nervous, you looked back to Legolas and found there was a tender smile playing on his lips.

“At night I do not sleep but with these long evenings, with you slumbering so near, I have wished to. I have lived through many centuries and never once wanted to sleep. Never once did I see a beauty and longed to hold it dear until I met you.”

“Legolas,” you whispered, breathlessly, “I now truly feel like a fool.”

He lifted his free hand, the one not holding yours, to your face. Light as feathers, Legolas’ fingertips traced along your cheek. The touch sent a shiver down your spine that you did not even try to hide. There was no point now. Everything was clear for everyone to see. You did not want to hide from Legolas any longer.

“Perhaps we are both fools,” he said softly. This close to Legolas, even in the dim light of the stars, you could see the depth of blue in his eyes. The itch in your fingers returned as the smell of him flooded your senses: beech bark and pine. Before you could even think of holding back, your hand reached up and pulled his lips to yours.

Legolas was quick to respond. Both his hands moved to cup the sides of your face and he moved his lips eagerly along yours. Your hands gripped his armor, holding him close. Every feeling you had held in poured out into the kiss. Each stolen glance and longing stare finally coming to a head. Still clinging to him desperately, you pulled away from Legolas to catch your breath.

Slightly winded, you rested your forehead against his, sharing the air between you. Relieved of your worries, you felt a surge of bravery overtake you. Laughing lightly, you pulled away to meet Legolas’ gaze.

“I wonder if the Fellowship saw that coming.”

Legolas smiled at your joking, the widest smile you had seen from the Elf since meeting him. With his hands still holding your face, he brought you in for another kiss; less needy than the last but all the more passionate. Warmth surrounded you both but you hungered for more. Just as you were about to pull on Legolas’ armor, you heard someone clear their throat.

Immediately, you and Legolas pulled away from each other. You both looked over to see Aragorn, smiling smugly at the two of you as he walked out from the shadows created by the looming trees. A new sort of embarrassment rushed through you as the Ranger took in the sight of you and the Elf. You could only imagine what you both looked like with lips kiss swollen, chests heaving, and all wild eyed.

“I can not speak for the rest, but I saw this coming.”

You snuck a glance at Legolas and saw his pale cheeks had pinkened. Never before had you seem him flustered and you felt overwhelmed with pride that you had played a part in it. The starlight made the Elf’s features all the more pleasing. You wanted to kiss him again but, before you could reach for Legolas, Aragorn spoke up again.

“Come now, you’ve worried the party with your extended absence. And the Hobbit’s have supper ready.” As he turned to walk back, he added, “there will be time for that when our journey comes to an end.”

You and Legolas start after the promised king. Not before sharing a look that told the other that neither of you would be willing to wait that long. For so long you had both waited, danced in silence around the other. Now, there was no holding back.

#legolas #legolas x reader #legolas imagine #legolas imagines #legolas fanfiction #legolas x you #lotr #lotr imagine #lotr imagines #lotr fanfiction #the hobbit #legolas greenleaf #legolas greenleaf imagine #legolas greenleaf imagines #legolas greenleaf x reader #legolas greenleaf fanfiction

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aegialia · 3 years

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self-indulgent reflection on being on tumblr

so i recently hit 1000 followers on here and this blog has existed for almost exactly 8 years, so i wanted to ramble about tumblr and my experience of it for awhile. under the cut so definitely feel free to ignore this.

i started this blog right around when i was fourteen and had just started high school. at that point, i was out to my parents (and no one else) as bi, i had an inkling i was Struggling with something but i had no idea what and felt like i couldnt actually acknowledge it, and i had left leaning but very vague politics. tumblr definitely has shaped my journey around sexuality/gender/mental health/politics, both for good and for ill.

for good:

seeing other ppl talk about being lesbians helped me realize i could be a lesbian w/o being a traitor to the concept of bisexuality. hearing trans ppl talk about their experiences and explaining non-binary stuff and dysphoria helped me understand what i was going through

i don’t like talking about my mental health stuff in detail on here, but suffice to say, i was Going Through it in high school. i’m still going through it now, but i am in a much better place (thank you medication and 7 years of therapy!). seeing ppl talk about the weird, dumb, awful parts of mental illness let me acknowledge that i was going through those things too, that i wasnt like evil for feeling like that, that i could change. people talking about adhd/autism was particularly helpful---being able to identify why i’d always felt like my brain just didn’t work right is the first step in the (ongoing) process of not hating myself for the way my brain works

politics is definitely the area where i think tumblr was the best for me. i got exposed to so many opinions i definitely wasn’t hearing in school, from intelligent, well-read people who could articulate theory in ways i could understand. tumblr didn’t give me my politics and i didn’t learn everything i know about theory from it, but the communities of people i was around pointed me in the right directions. tumblr was also a good place to learn how to react to criticism. this doesn’t seem to be most people’s experience, but getting called out over minor things on tumblr genuinely helped me learn how to take a step back, look at my behavior, apologize, and try to change, which, as it turns out, is a helpful skill irl as well

for ill:

wrt sexuality and gender, it’s probably pretty obvious someone who’s journey is ‘cis bi girl -> cis with a million different microlabels -> nb w a million different microlabels for both sexuality and gender -> nb butch lesbian who’s not super into romance’ would have some bad times on tumblr. the bi circles i was in made being a lesbian seem like an immoral choice, the ‘’’mogai’’’ (or whatever u wanna call them) circles made me feel like i had to divy up and perfectly label every aspect of myself in a way that really wasn’t helpful for me, the lesbian circles i was in made me feel like being a lesbian was about ending up in a monogamous butch/femme cottagecore relationship and that there was something wrong with me for not really wanting that. to be clear i think microlabels can be very helpful for people/a monogamous butch/femme relationship is a perfectly fine thing to want, they just didn’t work for me. im very very glad ive reached a point in my life where i dont feel the need to stay up to date on the latest discourse and am more focused on finding a way to exist that is comfortable for me and supporting my community irl. 10/10 would recommend to everyone

not going to get deep into it, but social media is. not good for my brain in general. i still enjoy using tumblr, but these days im pretty careful to step back from it frequently and treat it as an occasional hobby.

the cons of political stuff on tumblr are probably also very obvious. there are some just awful discussions on here and the culture surrounding the way we handle bad behavior and justice and accountability and working to become a better person and make up for the harm you’ve caused has historically been fucking awful and trying to unlearn it and find new ways to engage with this stuff is exhausting.

for all that i’ve changed over the course of having this blog, this blog has stayed pretty fucking static. i started out being super into diana wynne jones and the iliad and those are still two of my biggest interests and things i talk about the most on here. there are definitely specific things that have petered away (i started this blog almost entirely to keep up with good omens fan stuff and i pretty much haven’t touched it since the miniseries came out, i haven’t sought out pacific rim/supernatural/elementary/mcu content in years), but im still pretty much interested in the same things. i like relatively small fandoms, i like weird side characters, i like to be a grumpy child playing with my toys in the corner. when a fandom im in gets popular, i tend to stop engaging with it entirely (hello rqg/tma/good omens/enola holmes!). i dont think its a pretentious ‘i liked it before it was cool’ thing so much as a ‘people get Weird and awful when a fandom hits a certain level of popularity and there’s too much content and i really, really hate the bad faith arguments larger fandoms tend to spawn’ thing. i’ll consume content from big fandoms, but i pretty much refuse to actually engage with them at this point.

one of the stranger parts of my experience of tumblr is the social side. i’ve never really known how people make friends online---how do you go from liking each other’s posts and occasionally replying to them to actually being friends who communicate off social media? i’ve had conversations with ppl on tumblr and i’ve had sort-of friendships that are contained to tumblr where i’d like to get to know them better, but i’ve never figured out how to do that. my best friend’s job is pretty much to make friends/connections on the internet (she’s an activist and artist), my dad knows people everywhere in the world from twitter, and i’m just sitting here like a little old grandpa who doesn’t understand how you can have internet friends.

at this point in my life, i’m fine with this, but this has made me feel real fucking bad in the past---like, if everyone online, even the ppl who say they’re weird and brainbad in a similar way to me, can make friends on the internet, what’s wrong with me? particularly in high school and my first year of college, when i was just horribly lonely all the time, it made me feel super disconnected and like there was something fundamentally bad about me. these days, i’m a lot chiller about it. i use social media to engage with stuff i enjoy and share my thoughts about it. it’s okay that my social difficulties extend to me not knowing how to use the internet to socialize.

on a somewhat related topic, it’s wild that i have 1000 followers. obviously, that’s not an actually super large number and a huge number of them are probably bots or inactive. if you post consistently for eight years and follow lots of people, like i do, it’s not a surprise to end up with this many followers. it is also, thankfully, the sort of followers that are not fans. probably most ppl following this blog dont remember why they followed and dont know anything about me or my interests. this sounds like its meant to be depressing but it’s not. i like that my way of engaging w the internet lets me do pretty much whatever i want and no one will care. the mere concept of being. like. tumblr famous in any capacity, even just in one community/fandom, is viscerally horrifying to me.

i really enjoy the space i’ve created for myself on here. on one hand, going back through my blog is obviously embarrassing and full of hating my past self. on the other hand, i now have a very nice collection of things i enjoy in this blog. i like seeing what i’ve been interested in and (when i’m in a good mental health place) i like to be able to remember how i thought and talked about the things i loved when i was younger. im not at the place in my life where i can love a younger version of myself, but sometimes i can laugh at zir with a level of fondness.

i’ve always been paranoid about sharing details about my life on here (and the fact that my parents have always been able to see it certainly contributed), so the version of jack on here is a carefully curated version, who’s super enthusiastic about the things they love, was very conscientious about apologizing and trying to do better when ze messed up, and tried to be polite to others. that’s a younger version of myself that i’m closer to being able to have compassion for than the version i find in essays and poems and memories.

i’m starting grad school in ten days and i’m still using the blog i started when i began high school. tumblr has helped me in a lot of ways and hurt me in a lot of ways, but i still have to admit that it’s been a significant factor in shaping me. i’d be incredibly embarrassed to admit that irl, but it’s true. other than my family and like one friend, this blog is one of the only things that’s ‘known’ me since i started high school. i’ve changed so much in that time and im glad to have this weird little record of myself throughout those changes, even if i’d probably warn my younger self away from tumblr if i could go back in time.

tl;dr i have had a mixed experience on tumblr and i have mixed feelings about that experience. no idea if anyone read any of this very long, very rambling internet memoir

p.s. fun facts about this blog:

i’ve never changed my icon or blog title

i recently got a second version of the poster i got my blog title from. i chose my blog title by looking at what was hanging on the wall directly in front of me.

my original url was gloomthkin. this was not, as you’d probably assume, an otherkin thing. i had literally no idea what otherkin was at that point. i’d just learned the word gloomth from a bill bryson book and thought it would be cool n edgy to be the child of the quality of gloom. i changed my url after i learned what otherkin was and realized everyone probably assumed something about me that wasn’t true which i hated (not bc i had an issue w otherkin, just bc i don’t like ppl thinking untrue things about me)

during my good omens days, i once sent a tumblr ask to nail guyman which, in retrospect, was kinda rude. i stand by the content but id never send an ask like that now. he replied to it privately in a way that so deeply embarrassed and shamed 15 year old me that i’ve never gotten over it. i still get nervous and embarrassed when i see anything about him or his books

#gloomth and circumstance #this is definitely not required reading!#i just felt like rambling for a very long time about my feelings and my blog #w bonus blog trivia at the bottom that amuses me and probably no one else

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wonhoonz · 4 years

Text

‘ shit shit shit ! ‘

anything could have happened, absolutely anything to start off y/n’s senior year and yet it just had to the letters she addressed to every single boy she’s ever had romantic feelings for. if you could even call some of it that. luckily, choi soobin had moved houses and schools a few years ago, so whoever read her letter would have no idea where it came from. however, that still left four other boys who she saw on a daily basis. two of which, she hadn’t spoken to in years. although the devil’s incarnate she calls a best friend, also known as lee donghyuck, would never let her forget about this fiasco, she was more worried about the fact that one of those letters were addressed to the older brother of her best friend.

both donghyuck and y/n knew how yeji would react if she found out y/n had feelings for hyunjin. it would probably be a lot worse if she found out the letter was only written three months ago.

the h/c haired girl quickly kissed her father goodbye, whom she had asked for a ride from since she simply didn’t have it in her to be in the same car as both hyuck and yeji. it was still rather early. it was a surprise for everyone that she was there on a time other than five minutes before the late bell.

“ hey ! go y/n ! “ the familiar voice called out.

‘ fuck, you have got to be kidding me. ‘ y/n thought, trying her best to pretend she didn’t hear na jaemin calling after her. she knew exactly what he was going to ask about. those damned letters.

“ y/n ! hey ! will you slow down ? “ jaemin said as he hooked his hand around the other’s arm. the girl rolled her eyes, quickly ripping her arm from his grip.

“ what ? “ she grumbled. though she knew exactly what.

“ what do you mean what ? maybe you’d like to spare some time to explain this. “ he replied, with an equally annoyed tone. y/n pushed her lips together in embarrassment, closing her eyes for a brief moment. secretly hoping if she waited a few more seconds, she would wake up from this god awful dream.

“ okay- put that away. “ the girl hissed, yanking the perfume scented envelope from jaemin’s hand. a younger version of herself thought putting her perfume on the letters would add a little sentimental value ( as if her raw feelings written down weren’t already ) but now all she could think about was slapping herself across the face. if she had known the letters would be getting out, she never would have started a stupid argument with her sister. a deeper part of y/n knew there was a part of her that hoped the letters would be sent out, why else would she have put their addresses on them. however, it was going to take a lot for her to realize that herself. so for now, she’s going to keep insisting that the letters were for her eyes and her eyes only. “ what do you want me to explain ? everything’s in the letter. okay, great. goodbye ! “ she explained quickly.

“ uh, not so quick. goeun nearly read the letter and that definitely would’ve been hard to explain. “ jaemin complained, once again grabbing a hold of her arm.

“ didn’t she break up for with you for some college kid ? “ y/n snorted, peeling his hand off of her arm again with knowing smile.

“ you shouldn’t believe everything a bored teenager says, especially if it’s about someone else’s business. “ he replied, smiling back sarcastically.

“ what more do you want me to say ? i wrote that letter years ago. we were like twelve or something. “ she scoffed, looking away before locking eyes with the boy in front of her. he paused for a moment, looking like he was searching for an answer as well.

“ do you, “ he started as y/n stared back, her eyebrows lifted in expectation. “ do you still feel that way ? “ he added and for a while it felt like they had both been staring for a long time. if y/n had thought into it too much she might have said yes. in actuality, the e/c eyes girl burst into laughter. she was holding her stomach, wiping tears out of her eyes, and basically anything that indicated that this was truly humorous to her making the blond boy in front of her roll his eyes.

“ i’m sorry, but you did see the date on that thing right ? “ she questioned before opening up his letter and ignoring every cheesy thing she wrote and pointing to the top right where it read the exact date she had written it. april twenty sixth, 2017. you did the math and managed to figure out you were around fourteen years old then. “ jaemin, that was almost four years ago. we were fresh out of middle school. “ the girl added with a fond laugh. a laugh that didn’t seem to last very long. “ fuck ! i need to go. “ you cursed, seeing the familiar figure of none other than hwang hyunjin.

“ hey, no no. i still need more answers. “ jaemin protested, blocking your way from running the only exit and the only way to avoid hyunjin.

“ okay, i’m being serious jaemin, i have to go. get out of the way ! “ you practically hissed, trying to push past him. the obviously stronger male grabbed you by the waist, just as you peeked above his shoulder. seeing hyunjin about to say something. panic set in as you looked back at jaemin before completely acting on impulse. quickly grabbing both sides of his face and soon enough, you and na jaemin were kissing. it was obvious that he had popped a mint into his mouth earlier that morning. for a while, it seemed like he contemplated kissing you back. his hands were still around your waist but you didn’t give him much time to decide what to do because before you knew it, you had pulled away to see a stunned jaemin and hyunjin. you quietly whispered an apology to jaemin before pushing past both boys, who seemed to shocked to say anything at all.

“ y/n, i- “ hyunjin attempted to start but you had already walked by, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes burning into you. looks like there was a new thing a bored teenager would be talking about.

𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 . .

𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧

･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵

( unedited )

a/n ahhhh im so sorry for not being able to update. i was sick for like a week and a half and suddenly tumblr doesnt let me post anythin </3

taglist @elysianana @httpjaeminna @yunhoesss @vinmylife

#nct scenarios #nct dream #na jaemin imagines #nct dream social media au #kpop au #na jaemin x reader #kpop series #nct dream imagines #hwang hyunjin #lee donghyuck #nct jaemin #nct angst #nct dream fanfic #NCT Dream Scenarios #kpop masterlist #nct social media au

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ceasarslegion · 4 years

Text

Alright yall im gonna say it. send me hate and unfollow me and block me and shit if you want, but im gonna stand by it

the “cringe culture is dead” crowd is often hypocritical, and with awfully specific kinds of online communities. By that, I mean the very same communities the cringe culture crowd targets as well. Let’s take an example I have seen the most rampant hatred towards for no real reason other than the content itself is a little dorky.

If I said “Sanders Sides,” would it make you flinch? “But that’s different!” No it’s not. Remember when Thomas Sanders got a shit load of hate on this website for [checks notes] saying ace people were welcome in the LGBT community and ALSO admittedly making a dumb mistake that wasn’t rooted in any form of hatred but a legitimate slip-up, but he owned up to it and pledged to do better, which he actually did in the future by being more careful? I feel like that’s where all this bullshit all started. I remember before that when Thomas Sanders was just this quirky vine star who everyone was either fond of or indifferent towards. I was on the fond side, because he was this expressive theatre kid making fun vines with his friends and it got through the drag of waiting until 5pm every day in school for my dad to get off his teaching/admin work there and 2 hour bus commutes to work. He acted like my friends and I, and his sense of humour is very similar to my own.

I mostly stopped watching him after I moved out, not because I don’t like him, I guess I just stopped. Don’t have to violently hate something to stop consuming it, guys. Hell, you can even still actively like it! That’s okay! I still LOVE doctor who, but I don’t really watch it anymore because I didn’t have the time, and now I’m so far behind that it kind of intimidated me out of catching up, and that’s OKAY!!

Also, I don’t know anything about sanders sides, but I have noticed a few points yall like to bully people for: being “cringeworthy,” the fact that Thomas is now 30 and still making his content, and that the fandom behind it seems quite young/queer/many of them exhibit the behaviors of autistic/ADHD folks with a special interest/hyperfixation in his content. I’m not saying yall consciously bully them because of that, but the correlation in what you like to point out is quite stark. So let’s hit these points one at at a time, yeah?

-Yes, Thomas is 30. That’s how time works. If you trace it back and do the math, he would have been in his mid-20s when he started making his content on vine. That’s... still not that old. You can be creative and quirky at any age, you don’t magically lose your drive to create and become a desk jockey when you hit like... 25. You’re allowed to have a personality, and keep the traits you like from your younger years even if they might seem “childish.” Acting like he’s cringey because he’s 30 and still makes colourful OCs is harmful to everyone involved, because it perpetuates this idea that you have to throw away your personality and the things that make you happy, and foots the notion that life after youth is lesser and awful, yet anyone who doesn’t subscribe to that idea is a social deviant. I PROMISE that mindset will do nothing but hurt you in the long term.

-”Cringeworthy” content is not fair game to bully people for. I thought we agreed that bullying kids that like Fortnite is a shitty thing to do, because even if we don’t understand the hype and find the game itself kinda weird, we knew what that felt like when adults did that to us with Minecraft. We liked Thomas Sanders vines, so why is it somehow different when kids like his new content? “hhh he made weird pose in purple eyeliner with emo haircut” so what?? and??? He’s playing a character, that’s what he does. We should know that about him after seeing his old content, and even if he wasn’t, are you seriously going to shit on someone for acting “weird” when this website’s demographic is overwhelmingly made up of the kind of people who get that same ostracizing behavior from greater society and come here for an escape??

-And this same point applies to his fanbase: I don’t give a shit if they act “weird” for that same reason. See above for what the demographic of it seems to be from what I’ve seen. “Don’t bully kids for liking ‘cringe’ things or acting in ways that might seem ‘strange’ but don’t actually hurt anyone because oftentimes what you’ve been taught is bully-worthy behavior is the symptoms of autism/ADHD/queer kids having fun exploring their identities!!” you FUCKING hypocrites.

#uughhh i cant for the response for this one #thomas sanders #sanders sides #discourse watch #shut up dames

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goldencuffs · 4 years

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I'M HORRIBLE AT PROMPTS. laurent trying to do something really nice for damen&it kind of goes to hell but damen loves him so much&can't quit loving on him for it all? or laurent goes to some university&everyone thinks he's gorgeous but he's kind of a bitch&when he tells them he has a boyfriend everyone is like yeah right then damen comes to pick him up, looking hotter than anyone has any right to be&laurent melts with him? i'll read literally anything you write, it could be a n y t h i n g

@marrieddorkss im so so so sorry this took so fucking long lmao my god. im a mess. hopefully you still like it?? and it isnt such a fucking disaster lol??

Summary: Laurent decides to do something nice for Damen – and then immediately regrets it.

When Laurent comes back from his last class of the day, it’s to find Damen standing outside his dorm room, wearing a nice, oversized tank top and fraying shorts. The duffle bag by his feet is packed full; Laurent can see the sides of it are lumpy.

“Hey.” Damen’s smile is pleasant. It transforms his face and makes him look younger, despite the stubble growing across his face.

Laurent smiles too. “Hello,” he says, and when he’s close enough, he rests his hands on Damen’s hips and goes on his tiptoes to kiss his nose.

Damen’s smile widens, the creases by his eyes deepening. He scans Laurent’s face intently. “I’m guessing that your presentation went well?”

“It went well,” Laurent says. He pauses. “Actually, it went very well. I managed to answer every single question at the end.”

Damen wraps his arms around Laurent’s shoulders in a tight squeeze. “Fuck yeah!” He cheers. His enthusiasm is genuine, and it makes Laurent’s face heat.

“It’s not that big of a deal – I’m sure there are other people who did way better.”

“Stop that,” says Damen. He kisses Laurent’s forehead. “You killed it; I know you did.”

Laurent doesn’t answer. He just tips his head up in a silent request. Damen’s smile softens around the edges, and then he leans down to kiss Laurent fully on his mouth.

The kiss heats up quickly, as usual. Damen licks inside his mouth with vigour, his hand moving down Laurent’s back to grip his ass. Laurent moans into it, tugging on the front of Damen’s shirt to pull him closer.

Damen’s cock is already hard; it presses up against the inside of Laurent’s thigh in a slow, teasing drag. Laurent shifts his own hips forward, his body tight with anticipation.

A door slams shut at the end of the corridor and Damen detaches himself from Laurent in a measured pace, realising at the same moment Laurent does, that they’re in a very open, public setting.

“Come inside,” Laurent tells him.

Damen squeezes his ass again. “Here?” His smirk is sharp and arrogant.

Laurent hates how much he likes it.

He doesn’t let Damen know that though; instead, he rolls his eyes and drags Damen inside to his dorm room. It’s far from its usual pristine condition; Laurent hasn’t made his bed in a week, his dirty clothes are in a pile by the door and his desk is overflowing with papers, textbooks and plastic wrappers from food he’s bought lately.

Laurent grimaces at the mess. Damen doesn’t seem to mind, or even acknowledge it; he flings himself onto the single bed with as much ease as he can, hauling his duffle bag up with him.

“What’s in there?” Laurent asks.

The duffle bag is an expensive, leather one. For years, it had sat alone and dusty in the Revere’s garage, until Laurent had gifted it to Damen over the summer. Now, it’s used constantly; Damen takes it with him to classes and football practice and is rarely seen without it. He takes good care of it too: he diligently cleans it once a week and keeps it stored in his closet, away from sunlight.

Damen waggles his eyebrows in response to Laurent’s question. He sits up again and opens it with an exaggerated amount of fanfare, slowly inching the zipper in small tugs.

It’s amusing; it shouldn’t be, but almost everything Damen does makes Laurent laugh. He likes that.

Inside the lining of the bag, the tag is visible. It used to simply read ‘Revere’, but someone – probably Nikandros – has added, with marker, an apostrophe and the word ‘bitch’, so the entire thing says: ‘Revere’s bitch’.

Laurent also likes that.

Laurent doesn’t focus too long on the tag. The contents of the bag are much more appealing: there’s an assortment of treats packed haphazardly inside. Laurent can see chip packets, chocolate, tubs of ice cream and a four pack of Krispy Kreme donuts.

Laurent taps the lid of one of the ice cream containers; it’s sea salt, his favourite. “Did you rob a grocery store? Is this your first step into the tantalising world of crime?”

Damen’s shrug is uncharacteristically shy. His fingers are still toying with the zipper, but he still manages to look Laurent in the eye as he says, “They’re for you. I figured – depending on how your presentation goes – they’d either be celebratory snacks or conciliatory ones.”

Laurent smiles. There’s a sudden, pressing warmth in his chest. “Really,” he says, touched.

Damen is still shy; it’s a strange yet endearing look on him.

Laurent’s smile doesn’t waver. He pushes the duffle bag a little, so it ends up against the wall, rather than between them. He crosses the now empty space, shifting closer to Damen until Laurent manages to straddle his lap, knees digging into the hard mattress below.

He presses a soft kiss to the corner of Damen’s mouth. He keeps his mouth there, against the stubble across Damen’s jaw, and says: “Thank you. I love how thoughtful you are.”

Damen swallows, eyes darkening. His hands rest on Laurent’s hips. His touch is deceptively light.

This time, Laurent initiates the kiss. He keeps it slow, the way he favours, and Damen lets him. His hands begin to wander over Laurent’s body; even when they’re not fucking, Laurent has come to learn that Damen likes to touch him constantly.

When Damen’s hands settle on Laurent’s ass once more, Laurent shifts his hips a little. Damen’s other hand drops to cup Laurent’s ass cheek.

Laurent’s gasp is a quiet sound; most of it is swallowed by Damen’s mouth.

They begin a slow, steady rut. It reminds Laurent of the first time they did this, a few months ago in a secluded booth in Route, the small club down the road from their campus.

Laurent didn’t know Damen too well at the time, but he was always petering around the Student Life office, where Laurent had been volunteering on and off throughout the semester. He wasn’t sure what Damen did there: sometimes he volunteered to help with administrative tasks, but mostly, from what Laurent saw, Damen seemed to just want to hang around him.

They formed a tentative, shallow relationship that consisted of very poor flirting on Laurent’s part and a lot of unprecedented confidence on Damen’s.

It was obvious to everyone how much Damen wanted to fuck Laurent; he always looked half crazed every time Laurent so much as looked at him. Laurent found that he didn’t exactly mind it; Damen was attractive, receiving his attention was heady, and it wasn’t as though Laurent was swimming in proposals.

So, when Damen had asked him to hang out at Route with him on a Saturday night, Laurent had said yes, fully expecting the outcome of the evening.

Still, Damen had seemed surprised when, after two drinks, Laurent climbed into his lap. Their first kiss had been relatively innocent: just a short, chaste peck. Then Laurent, spurred on by the alcohol, deepened it. Damen responded eagerly, pulling closer Laurent and licking into his mouth with a shocking amount of indecency.

After a while, he’d pulled back. His eyes had been so dark, and he’d gazed at Laurent with awe.

Laurent had said: “If you’re going to keep looking at me like that, you might as well just fuck me here.”

Damen had inhaled sharply; even with all the noise around them, Laurent still managed to hear it.

Twenty minutes later, Laurent had been pressed down into his mattress as Damen licked him open for his cock.

As he’d pushed into him for the first time, Damen panted into his ear, “Fuck, I don’t usually do this on a first date.”

Laurent had laughed.

Afterwards, Laurent had thought he wouldn’t see much of Damen anymore. He knew how one night stands worked. He suspected that now that Damen had been inside him – more than once, actually – he would stop loitering around the Student Life office.

That didn’t happen. Instead, Damen seemed more persistent to hang around Laurent. Laurent let it happen. By this point, he’d grown fond of Damen, the way someone might feel fond over a stray puppy that constantly showed up at their door.

Besides, as the weeks wore on, Laurent discovered that as well as being extremely sexually compatible, Damen and he were also compatible outside of bed; they became fast friends, much to the bemusement of everyone else.

It’s amazing how far they’ve come, Laurent thinks. He doesn’t think he’s been so comfortable with anyone in his entire life.

Now, in the silence of his bedroom, Damen’s lips drag across Laurent’s neck. Laurent shivers, fingers running over Damen’s shoulders. He’s careful as he tugs off Damen’s shirt. Damen’s chest is marvellous – it’s all sculpted pecs and hard planes. There’s a tattoo of a lion roaring on his right pec. It’s the most obnoxious thing Laurent has ever seen, and the first time Laurent had seen it, he’d licked it. He might’ve felt stupid about it at the time, but that feeling quickly evaporated when Damen’s hips stuttered, and he’d spilled his release inside Laurent.

Once Damen’s shirt comes off, the need to get naked becomes a priority for both of them. Damen rolls Laurent onto his back after Laurent takes off his own shirt, mouthing over his collarbone, his nipples, his bellybutton, and then his hipbone.

Laurent is quick to unbuckle his belt when Damen kisses the waistband of his jeans.

Damen is always meticulous in preparing him. It doesn’t matter if it’s been five minutes or five days since they last fucked, Damen never rushes. Laurent’s given up on trying to coax him to be faster.

Laurent’s knee jerks a little when Damen’s fingers, covered in cold lube, circle around his rim in sure strokes. Damen kisses the inside of his thigh, then the crease of his groin as Laurent pants. When his finger breaches Laurent, Laurent turns his head into the pillow, moaning against the silk fabric.

“Please,” he says quietly, and Damen groans, long and loud. He likes it when Laurent begs, a fact that makes Laurent flush.

Damen continues fingering him. The sounds are disgusting, wet and sloppy. Laurent doesn’t understand why he likes it so much.

Finally, finally, Damen pulls away. Laurent’s fingers twist the bedsheets in anticipation. He knows he’s flushed all over; he can feel the colour vining across the bridge of his nose and down his chest.

Damen’s cockhead drags down his crease. It makes Laurent delirious.

“Yeah?” says Damen. His hand grips the base of his cock and his eyes are fixed on Laurent, like he can’t bear to look away. Laurent knows the feeling; Damen looks so good like this.

“Yes,” says Laurent, in Veretian.

That makes Damen groan again. He only gets louder as he pushes into Laurent. Laurent’s eyes go cross eyed at the initial stretch. He loves this: the initial pain of Damen’s cock entering him.

“God, Laurent.” Damen grunts as he starts thrusting, biting down on the column of Laurent’s neck.

“Yeah, fuck me,” Laurent says. His hands slide down Damen’s sweaty back. “Harder – please, I need it.”

“Fuck,” Damen gasps as he complies. He lifts his head from the crook of Laurent’s shoulder and kisses him.

Laurent keens into it. He wraps his legs around Damen’s waist, murmuring encouragements in Veretian against Damen’s mouth.

Damen’s thrusts start to get shallow; his rhythm isn’t synced, but it still makes Laurent’s toes curl.

“Good?” Damen says. His biceps are straining with effort.

“You know it is,” Laurent says.

“I like the confirmation,” Damen says with that terrible smirk, and Laurent closes his eyes and lets himself take it.

Damen comes first. He’s loud when it happens; Laurent is sure his neighbours hate him.

His cock is straining against his stomach when Damen pulls out. Laurent flushes when he feels the wetness inside him, and he darkens further when Damen pulls his ass cheeks apart, watching in awe as his come dribbles out of Laurent’s hole.

“Don’t touch your cock,” says Damen.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Laurent arches his back when Damen’s mouth seals over his hole.

Damen slips his tongue in easily, licking into Laurent with enthusiasm. Laurent shakes under his grip. Damen’s stubble rubs against his skin, and Laurent knows it’s steadily pinkening.

He feels on edge. His cock is so hard it hurts. He pulls on Damen’s curls desperately, and Damen buries into him deeper.

Laurent’s mouth falls open. His quiet panting fills the room, joining the cacophony of sounds Damen’s mouth produces as he eats him out.

Laurent feels like crying. He almost asks Damen to stop because it’s too much, too much, too much.

Then Damen slows down to short, tiny licks. When he resurfaces, he gives Laurent a filthy wink. His chin is wet.

Laurent comes.

Every Thursday, Laurent and Damen have lunch at a small brunch place just outside campus. It’s usually packed, but Damen always manages to secure them a table. Laurent suspects this is because Damen has slept with one of the baristas. Damen has never explicitly denied this detail.

Today, their table is outside, along the gravel path leading to the campus gardens. The weather is nice; a rarity in Marlas, and Laurent enjoys the sunshine on his face.

Initially their weekly lunch meetings had been a habit borne out of practicality: last semester, one of the only days they could meet up was on Thursday mornings. After a good, thorough fuck, Damen always needed a cigarette, and Laurent always got hungry, so their solution was to head out to this particular brunch place.

Now, though, it’s become a fixed tradition between them. Damen also refers to it as their place – which Laurent still doesn’t quite understand.

Damen orders his usual – the everything breakfast – and Laurent, pleasantly reminded of this morning’s activities when he moves in his seat, decides to order the same thing.

Halfway through their meal, they’re interrupted by Nikandros, one of Damen’s teammates. Nikandros is wearing his letterman jacket, but he shrugs it off as he pulls up a seat at their table. He steals a chorizo sausage off of Laurent’s plate, despite Laurent’s protests.

Nikandros starts talking to Damen about the statistics of their latest game while Laurent finishes up his food. Once he’s done, he pulls out his pack of cigarettes. He manages to finish half of it; he offers Nikandros the rest. Nikandros eyes fall on the cigarette, then Laurent’s mouth, before he forcibly tears his eyes away and shakes his head.

He addresses Damen again, his voice slightly hoarse, “Hey! I just remembered – guess who I saw coming out the law library today?”

“Who?” Damen takes Laurent’s cigarette.

Nikandros pauses for dramatic effect. His smirk is not as attractive as Damen’s. “Lykaios.”

Damen drops his cigarette. He doesn’t pay it much mind; instead, he leans forward in his seat, eyes alight. “Wait – seriously? You’re not messing with me?”

“Nah,” Nikandros shakes his head, looking pleased. “Asked her what she’s doing here, apparently she’s starting postgrad law this semester.” Nikandros pauses again. “Like you.”

“Wow.” Damen’s expression is brittle with disbelief. “What are the chances?”

“Seems like fate.”

“Who’s Lykaios?” Laurent asks.

“Oh,” says Damen. “She’s an old friend from when I still lived in Ios.”

“A friend,” says Nikandros. His expression is amused. “Oh, come on, you two were practically together.”

“That’s not true,” Damen says quickly. He casts Laurent a reassuring look. “It honestly isn’t.”

Laurent doesn’t understand why Damen is being so defensive; it’s not news to him that Damen has been with other people.

“You were pretty much in love with her, dude.” Nikandros picks a sausage off Damen’s plate this time.

“Oh,” Laurent says before he can help it. The statement takes him by surprise. One of the first things Damen had told him when they’d first started hooking up was: I don’t know what it’s like to be in love. In the stillness of the night, Damen had been vulnerable and open; it was the first time Laurent realised the person in his bed might be more multifaceted than he let on.

“No,” Damen gives Laurent another reassuring look. His foot presses against Laurent’s underneath the table. “I wasn’t.” His voice is firm. “There was a time I thought I was, but I was wrong.”

Nikandros clearly doesn’t believe him. He rolls his eyes and utters a small, “Whatever.”

Laurent pulls out another cigarette, thinking.

Later that night, Laurent is contemplative. It’s late: almost two in the morning and the rain outside is a welcome, soothing noise.

Laurent is so sore, he almost regrets the last round, as short as it was. It doesn’t keep him from draping himself over Damen’s chest, fingers lazily tracing over the tattoo on his pec.

Damen keeps running his fingers through Laurent’s sweat soaked hair, his fingernails gently scratching against his scalp. It’s so relaxing, Laurent feels like he could fall asleep like this. Practically, he knows he shouldn’t: there’s dry come on his stomach and between his thighs. He’s also sweaty, and Damen is too.

But instead of getting up, Laurent asks into the stillness of the night: “What is she like?”

Damen jerks a little; his eyes have been closed for a while now.

“Hm?”

“Lykaios,” Laurent says. “I want to know what she’s like.”

There’s a small pause. Damen shifts again. “Why?”

“I don’t know. It seemed like she means a lot to you – and I’m interested.”

“She meant a lot to me. As in, past tense.”

“It didn’t seem that way during lunch,” Laurent points out. He doesn’t know why Damen is being so evasive and why it’s bothering him so much. “You seemed excited to hear about her.”

“Well yeah,” Damen says. In the darkness, it’s hard to read his usually expressive face, but Laurent can still sense a growing tightness in Damen’s body. “But that’s only because it’s been a while since any of us have heard from her. She sort of disappeared after first year.”

Laurent pinches Damen’s bicep. “Tell me.”

Damen sighs. He rolls over, so Laurent is unfairly jostled aside. He turns on the lamp on the bedside table. As the room is washed in a dull yellow light, Laurent can see how matted Damen’s hair has become, as well as the fingernail indentations along his shoulders.

“There’s honestly not much to say,” Damen says. His voice is very quiet, mindful of the neighbouring dorm rooms. “We were family friends for years, and in my senior year I realised I liked her a lot – more than I thought I did. But she had a boyfriend, so I never did anything about it. And then she dumped him because she liked me, but this time I was seeing someone. So, in the end, nothing happened.”

“That’s it?” Laurent frowns. In his mind, he keeps replaying Damen’s reaction at lunch; surely, there must be more to the story. Damen huffs. It almost seems like he’s pouting. He pokes Laurent’s stomach, hard. “You’re being very annoying.”

Laurent swats his hand away. “Are you still in love with her?”

“I already told you I never was. I just thought I could be because I was a horny eighteen year old.”

That makes Laurent laugh. It’s an unintentional sound, but it makes Damen smile.

“I’m not interested in anyone but you,” Damen says, too sincerely. The words hang heavy in the air.

Laurent doesn’t know what to make of it – not just the words, but Damen’s tone as well. It makes his stomach clamp up. He thinks Damen is making a point about how attractive he finds Laurent; in bed, the subject of Laurent’s body is always a welcoming topic.

So, Laurent says, a little awkwardly, “Thank you.”

Damen snorts. He looks fond. He kisses Laurent, and Laurent gladly welcomes it.

It’s a slow, sensual kiss. Damen keeps mapping out Laurent’s body with his hands, fingertips tracing over the veins across Laurent’s wrist, his chest.

“Think you can go again?” Damen says against his mouth. Pressed to each other like this, Laurent can feel Damen’s erection. It’s hot, he thinks to himself, how Damen physically reacts to him, even when Laurent hasn’t done anything to particularly excite him.

He’s still sore, sweaty and gross, but Laurent says: “Yes.”

Laurent is late to his study session with Damen on Wednesday. They normally don’t study together; tonight is an exception. Damen is apparently tired of being cooped in his room alone as he pours over his essays.

Outside the study room, Laurent pauses. Through the clear glass, he can see Damen is already seated, textbooks placed carelessly over the wooden tabletop. But he’s not alone. There’s someone seated on the edge of the table, in the one corner free of Damen’s things.

It’s Lykaios. Laurent knows it must be; Damen’s face is exuberant, creased with warmth. His smile is filled with teeth, white and straight, and there’s a lingering softness there. Laurent’s chest clenches with a foreign feeling. He’s unsure what it is, but then deduces it must be relief at seeing Damen so happy.

Laurent almost turns back. He wants to give Damen and his not-quite ex-girlfriend time to catch up. The thought of intruding on them with his presence fills him with anxiety. But he remains rooted on the spot because, for some strange reason, the thought of leaving them alone also fills him with anxiety.

Luckily – or perhaps, unluckily; Laurent still hasn’t made up his mind – Damen spots him through the glass. His smile, now directed at Laurent, changes instantly; it dissolves into a steady kind of fondness. His eyes seem to shine brighter.

It completely baffles Laurent.

His chest tightens again; this time, it’s much more pleasant.

Laurent supposes he should enter now. Damen seems to have forgotten about Lykaios; his eyes remain on Laurent as Laurent fumbles with the doorknob and steps into the room.

“Hey,” he says. His smile – and voice – wobble. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Damen’s smile, impossibly, widens even more. Laurent’s gaze is helplessly drawn to it.

They stare at each other for a few moments longer than necessary until Damen seems to remember they’re not alone. He fumbles over the introductions, face flushed.

Lykaios is unbelievably gorgeous. Like most Akielons, she’s very tall; even wearing flats she’s a few inches taller than Laurent. Laurent tries not to be bitter about it. Her hair isn’t as blonde as Laurent’s, but it’s long and shiny. Her eyes are amazing; long lashed and an intriguing colour, somewhere between green and blue.

Standing next to Damen, the two of them look like a regal painting. They look good together. They complement each other.

Laurent – unexpectedly, painfully – feels inadequate.

Lykaios rounds the table and shakes Laurent’s hand with vigour. Her smile is kind and open; her enthusiasm is genuine. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! Damen has managed to mention your name about a hundred times in the last half an hour.”

Damen flushes at that, suddenly busying himself with rearranging his textbooks.

Laurent smiles. He can feel the heat travel across his face. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting your study session.” Her voice is so sweet, Laurent thinks he could listen to her talk all day. “I was literally just walking past and saw Damen in here. I almost couldn’t believe it.” She turns to Damen and gives him in an assessing look. “It’s been what – six years?”

“Fuck off,” Damen says, with little heat. “I don’t want to be reminded of how old I am.”

Lykaios laughs at that. Her laugh is sweet too.

Laurent says, “You guys will probably see more of each other now. You’re in the same course, right?”

Lykaios beams. “Yep! Another weird coincidence.”

“Or fate,” Laurent points out.

Damen gives him a strange look. “Definitely just a coincidence.”

“Ah, who knows the mysterious ways of the universe,” says Lykaios. She gives Laurent a wink.

Laurent decides he likes her, despite the twisting in his gut.

It’s why he says: “Did you want to stay and study with us? We were also going to grab some dinner afterwards. You could join us for that too.”

Damen gives him another strange look; this one is brittle with disbelief.

Laurent ignores it. He keeps his eyes on Lykaios, who smiles at him.

“Thank you for the very kind offer, but I’ve already got plans tonight, I’m afraid.” She seems genuinely sorry, and it makes Laurent like her even more.

“Maybe next time,” Laurent says.

Damen frowns.

Lykaios doesn’t stay too long after that; she claims she needs to start getting ready for her night out. When she leaves, she kisses Damen’s cheek. Laurent bristles a little at that.

But his annoyance morphs into pleasantness when she hugs him goodbye – like Damen, she is very touchy, Laurent notices.

As soon as the door closes behind her, Damen kisses Laurent, hard and open mouthed. It’s a terrible kiss; Laurent isn’t expecting it, and he almost topples backwards with the force of it. Then he starts laughing, so Damen’s mouth mostly meets his teeth.

The second one is much, much better.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for the past ten minutes,” says Damen. “Next time, kissing first, and then we move on to having a conversation.”

“Shut up,” says Laurent. He pulls out his textbooks, trying not to laugh. After a few moments, he says, “She seems really nice. I can see why you liked her so much.”

He imagines Damen at eighteen, maybe a little naïve and cocky, completely enamoured by Lykaios’ sweetness.

Damen rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” He squints at Laurent. “You’re not still hung up on that are you?” His mouth deepens into a smirk. He waggles his eyebrows. “Need me to prove my loyalty, baby?”

Laurent flushes. It’s not the first time Damen has used that endearment – he mostly says it in bed – but it still catches Laurent off guard every time.

His mouth is suddenly very dry. The only thing he can manage to say is: “Shut up.” And then he gets to work, smiling into his shoulder when Damen’s foot wraps around his underneath the table.

Lykaios’ Instagram is an explosion of colour: she likes wearing a lot of red and green and purple. Her entire profile is filled with her travels, charity work, her friends, and some shots of her eyelids coated in glitter. The more Laurent scrolls, the more careful he is not to like anything.

There are plenty of pictures of her from high school; Damen is in most of them, fresh faced and youthful. It’s strange to look at: nothing about Damen is boyish, but these pictures prove otherwise.

Laurent comes across a photo of Lykaios and Damen from six years ago. In it, Damen has his arm around her waist while Lykaios rests her head on his shoulder.

The caption is: hbd to this guy aka my soulmate #finally18

Soulmate, Laurent thinks. His mouth purses.

Damen’s comment is the first comment. It reads: love u ly!

Laurent puts his phone down.

His thoughts come too fast: he starts to think of all the ways Damen and Lykaios fit together, how connected they seemed even after so much time apart. He thinks of how nice they looked together.

Then, Laurent starts thinking of all the nice things Damen has done for him over the last few months. The duffel bag full of his favourite snacks comes to mind, as does the time Damen took him to a fancy restaurant when Laurent had averaged a high distinction last semester. Damen had even driven him almost forty minutes to the dentist once, even though he had an assessment due in the afternoon.

Damen is always doing nice things for him, and Laurent realises, guiltily, that he’s never quite returned the favour. His own gestures have often been small and unnoteworthy; they’ve never possessed the grandeur of Damen’s actions.

Laurent knows exactly how to change that.

Laurent isn’t the most forthcoming person. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to gather enough courage to message Lykaios on Instagram. But once he makes it past his awkward introduction – hey this is laurent in case you don’t remember me – to which Lykaios had responded ofc i do silly!, their conversations are light and easy.

The more Laurent talks to her over the week, the more he’s convinced of his plan. Lykaios is everything Damen needs and vice versa. It’s crazy how similar their personalities are: they’re both incredibly sweet, intelligent and interested in almost all the same things, from okton to hiking.

The next week, Laurent invites Lykaios to his and Damen’s weekly lunch outing.

Damen smiles when he sees him. He doesn’t lose the smile on his face when he sees Lykaios, but his eyes snap to Laurent’s in confusion.

“This is a nice surprise,” he says, although his tone is dry.

Laurent pretends not to notice it. Lykaios kisses Damen’s cheek in greeting and Laurent scratches at his chest as he sits down.

Damen leans over the table to kiss him, but Laurent quickly picks out the menu and starts to read it, even though he’s practically memorised it by now. He doesn’t want Damen to kiss him now – especially in front of Lykaios – and ruin his plan before it’s had the chance to even formulate.

When he puts the menu back, Damen is openly frowning.

It disappears as Lykaios begins talking. The transformation is amazing; Damen is instantly captivated by her. Laurent swallows. This is good, he reminds himself.

Laurent waits about ten minutes. He’s started to notice that even though Damen is laughing along to all of Lykaios’ jokes, he’s still shooting Laurent glances every few seconds.

The question on his face is clear: why is she here?

Laurent plays with his phone for a while. He tries to make it look like he’s texting something important; he keeps his brows furrowed in concentration.

Laurent isn’t the best actor, but even he’s proud of himself as he lets out a small gasp.

“What is it?” says Damen, instantly alert.

“Nothing,” Laurent waves him off. “It’s just that I completely forgot I had a study session right now.” He stands up, grabs his bag. “I should go.”

“Wait –” Damen’s face pinches. “You’re leaving?”

“I’m sorry, but this is really important.” Laurent turns to Lykaios and smiles. “You two stay and have fun.”

“But –”

“Bye!” Laurent says it too enthusiastically, cutting Damen off. He walks out of the brunch place with hurried steps. He turns back at the end of the gravel path just to check if –

His chest tightens with pleasure – yes, pleasure, although he’s not sure why it doesn’t feel like it – when he sees his absence has made little disturbance. Damen and Lykaios are laughing together, mouths open in delight.

Over the next few days, Laurent organises more and more outings with Damen and Lykaios. Damen never seems to stop looking confused whenever Laurent invites Lykaios, but he also seems happy to see her, so Laurent counts it as a win. During each outing, Laurent manages to come up with a different excuse each time as to why he needed to leave early. Damen always looks disappointed. Laurent is weak for it; he can’t count how many times that look has almost made him stay, but he doesn’t, because it would be detrimental to his plan.

Laurent makes sure to text Damen whether or not he enjoyed his time with Lykaios. Damen’s responses are pretty much the same every time: Yes, but it would’ve been better if you were there too.

It frustrates Laurent. Damen isn’t supposed to still be thinking of him while he’s hanging out with his potential soulmate.

Lykaios is the first to grow suspicious. She confronts him at the next outing. They’re in an idyllic little bar in the city, with a cosy atmosphere. It’s a perfect date venue.

Damen heads to the bathroom, and Laurent stands up, ready to leave, when Lykaios stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Laurent,” she says. “Is there a reason you keep depriving us of your company?”

Laurent manages a sheepish smile. He wonders if he should say anything at all. Then, he decides he should: he feels like Lykaios would appreciate his directive.

Laurent plays with the little sugar packets on the table. “I’ve been trying to get you and Damen to spend more time together. Alone,” he adds, when he sees her confusion.

“Why?”

“Well…” Laurent hesitates; he’s just now beginning to realise how awkward this is. “I think you two would be good together…romantically.”

Lykaios raises her eyebrows.

Laurent continues, fingers still fidgeting. “It’s just…Damen mentioned how much you two liked each other a few years ago. And I think Damen still regards you very highly. Plus, you two are so alike – I just think it makes sense.”

Lykaios’ eyebrows don’t lower, but she casts a backward glance towards where Damen has disappeared to.

“I can’t say I haven’t thought about Damen and I…” she begins, and Laurent’s gut twists with…relief? Yes, he’s sure it’s relief. It’s a good – great – thing that Lykaios is interested in Damen. “But I thought –” Lykaios pauses for a few seconds. “I mean, I was under the impression that you and Damen were together.”

Laurent laughs, and then he realises she’s being serious. “You – no. We’re not. We’re friends.” Friends who spent a lot of time sleeping together, sure, but Laurent doesn’t think mentioning that now will do him any favours.

Lykaios’ face instantly changes. Her smile takes up her entire face; it’s stunning. She’s stunning.

Laurent shifts in his seat. He clears his throat. “So – you…you want to date him?”

She flushes, and it only makes her look more beautiful. “Like I said…I’ve definitely thought about it.”

“Oh – good. That’s awesome. Damen will be so happy.” He stands up. “So, I’ll leave you two alone?”

Lykaios nods. “Thank you, Laurent.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He turns around to leave. Everything in his body is screaming not to.

He keeps reminding himself that he’s doing something nice for Damen: that Damen will appreciate the fact that Laurent set him up with someone like Lykaios, a brilliant woman he has a past with. His mouth is dry, and Laurent’s palms are suddenly sweaty. Briefly, he wonders if this is always what happens when people do nice things for another. If it is…he might have to limit his niceness.

Laurent doesn’t mean to start ignoring Damen’s calls or texts. It just happens. He isn’t in the mood to listen to Damen go on about Lykaios; Laurent already knows she’s amazing.

He’s also confident that they’re dating now – or at least getting there. Lykaios posted a lot of snaps from the last night Laurent left them alone, and all of them had been of Damen smiling, drinking, smirking at the camera. They’d been there until three in the morning; Laurent knows because he’d stayed up until then, refreshing his Instagram feed to see any updates on Lykaios’ story.

What had they even been doing for so long anyway? Damen had called him until eleven, before he presumably gave up. Had Lykaios pulled a move on him? Had they gone back to Damen’s room, fucked on his bed? Had Damen thought of how he’d fucked Laurent on that same bed just last week? Or had he been so consumed by Lykaios and her pleasantness that Damen hadn’t even thought of Laurent?

Laurent had had the worst night of sleep.

And then a few nights ago, Nikandros had posted an image of the football team hanging around at his dorm room. (Laurent vaguely remembers being invited to that). In the photo, Laurent’s eyes had immediately been drawn to Damen in the corner, his head bent down as he said something to Lykaios, who had been smiling widely. It had looked very intimate. Laurent had turned his phone off when he saw it.

Alone in his room, Laurent lies on his bed, heart constricting. He should be happy for Damen. It’s frustrating him that he isn’t. And worst of all, he doesn’t know why.

He thinks it might be because he’s gotten so used to having Damen around all the time. If Damen starts seeing someone, then he’d obviously start spending less time with Laurent.

Laurent doesn’t want Damen to spend less time with him. If anything, they should be spending more time together. He only sees Damen about four times a week! That’s too little. Laurent should talk to Damen about that. He should tell him, Damen, even though you have a girlfriend now, I still want you to spend all your time with me, and I still want you to take me to fancy restaurants and then fuck me hard when we get home.

Horrified, Laurent rolls over and screams into his pillow.

A few hours later, while Laurent is trying to clean out his desk drawers, there’s a knock on the door. It’s a rapid set of knocks, loud and urgent.

Laurent frowns. He opens the door and his heart jumps when he sees Damen there, wearing a shirt Laurent had gifted him in the summer. Damen’s face is annoyed; it’s not an expression Laurent has seen often on Damen - and even rarely directed towards him.

Damen pushes past Laurent into the room. He takes up most of the space in it. Laurent’s heart still hasn’t calmed down.

“Tell me,” says Damen.

“What?”

“Tell me what I did wrong. I don’t like this passive aggressive bullshit.”

“What?” Laurent says again.

Damen crosses his arms in front of his chest. “You haven’t returned a single one of my calls or texts. You don’t want to hang out with me anymore. And I waited all night for you to show up to Nikandros’ and you didn’t.” When Laurent doesn’t say anything, he presses on. “Well? What did I do to piss you off?”

“I – nothing,” Laurent shakes his head, shocked. “I’m not mad at you.“

"Please,” Damen scoffs. “You -”

"I’m not,“ Laurent says. “I was just giving you some space.”

”Space. Why?“

"Well…” Laurent finds himself hesitating. “So you and Lykaios can spend more time together.”

“Why the fuck would I want to do that?”

“Um. She didn’t tell you?”

Damen’s eyes harden. His mouth presses into a tight line. “Can you please just give me a straight answer?”

“I’m – I’ve been trying to set you and Lykaios up.” Damen’s mouth drops open. Laurent quickly adds, “I talked to her about it and she said she’s been thinking of dating you too! So you know…” He trails off weakly.

There’s a sudden, pressing silence. It engulfs the small space of Laurent’s room.

In a very quiet, measured voice, Damen says, “What makes you think I would want to date Lykaios?”

“She really likes you Damen. And I think you two would be a good match. I mean – you’re so compatible.”

“No.” Damen’s voice is hard. “I meant: why the fuck do you think I would want to date Lykaios when I’m already dating you?”

Laurent’s eyes widen. His breath stutters in his chest. There’s a strange ringing in his ears. “We’re not dating.” His voice is too quiet; he can’t bring himself to repeat himself any louder.

Damen’s eyes bulge. It would be a comical expression if the atmosphere in the room wasn’t so deadly.

“Not. Dating.” Damen repeats between his teeth. “You – You really believe that?”

Damen’s mouth loosens around the edges. He looks like he’s received the worst news of his life.

“I –” Laurent fumbles with his words. The back of his neck prickles with discomfort. “We’re friends.”

“Is that what we are?” Damen scoffs. “My mistake, then.”

Laurent still feels wrongfooted. It’s almost like he’s not even experiencing this conversation, just watching himself have it.

“I don’t understand,” says Laurent. “I was just trying to do something nice for you. I thought it’d be good for you if you had a girlfriend like Lykaios.”

“For fuck’s sake, Laurent.” All of Damen’s anger melts away. His tone now is sullen. “I’ve literally been obsessed with you for the last six months – are you seriously just realising this now?”

“I’m –” Laurent swallows. “But you’ve never asked me out or called me your…boyfriend.” His tongue dries up around the world.

“I asked you out to Route all those months ago!” Damen says.

“No. You said: ‘do you want to go out with me to –’” Laurent cuts himself off. Now that he thinks about it, he’s sure that Damen did ask him out on a date. He’d also said, I don’t usually do this on a first date while they’d been in bed together, hadn’t he?

The realisation stumps Laurent.

“Oh,” he says.

Damen sits down on the edge of the bed, groaning. He buries his head in his hands. “Oh my god, Laurent. How can someone so smart be so stupid?”

Laurent supposes he should feel offended by that. He isn’t, though, because he genuinely feels stupid.

“You still didn’t make anything official.” Laurent says after a while.

Damen looks up. “Fuck you.” His eyebrows furrow. “What was stopping you from asking me?”

“Why would I say anything?! I thought you were only interested in fucking me!”

Damen groans again. He sounds like he’s dying. “If that were true, then why would I –” He gestures around the room. Laurent knows what he means. He thinks of all the…dates Damen has taken him on, all the gifts he’s been given, the fact that Damen doesn’t leave his side when they go to parties together.

Laurent closes his eyes. This is too much. He’s shocked by the anger that overtakes him – anger at himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been.”

Damen looks at him steadily. He gathers his thoughts. “Do you still think I should date Lykaios? Because you seem pretty invested in the idea and I –” Damen sighs. “I don’t want to – I don’t think I can be with you if you don’t feel the same as I do.”

“How do you feel about me?” Laurent asks softly.

Damen’s gaze is burning. Laurent is pinned beneath it. “Laurent, I love you.”

Laurent gasps. It’s a soft sound, but in the stillness of the room it rattles against the walls. His throat closes.

When a few silent moments pass, Damen sighs. He stands up, mouth drooping and fingers tense by his thighs. “Alright…That’s.” He stops. He gives Laurent a small nod. “I’ll just go then.”

Laurent blocks his path with a shrill, “Wait!”

Damen stops.

Laurent’s fingers twitch. He wants to touch Damen. But he knows he should – “I don’t want you to date Lykaios. I don’t even know what the fuck I was thinking, alright? You just – you seemed so into her Damen, and I thought it would be nice if I did you a favour and set you up with her because you’re always doing nice things for me but then I got so sad and angry and confused every time you were together and then I felt guilty for feeling those things and I just –”

“Okay, slow down,” Damen’s hands grip his shoulders.

Laurent shakes his head. His chest is bubbling with all these emotions he’s refused to acknowledge. “I don’t want you to date Lykaios,” he repeats. “I want you to date me.” He pauses. “Only me.”

Damen snorts. “Easy. I’ve already been doing that.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t know,” Laurent says. His throat is still tight with emotion.

“We’ll work on communicating better,” Damen says. He peers down at Laurent until their eyes meet. “I only want you, Laurent.”

Laurent collapses into Damen. He buries his head against Damen’s chest, weak in his relief. He even sniffles a little, something Damen thankfully ignores. “I only want you, too.”

Damen’s body loosens; he exhales and squeezes Laurent in his embrace. He kisses Laurent’s temple. “That makes me so happy.”

“Me too,” Laurent says.

Guiltily, he thinks of Lykaios. He remembers her excitement at the thought of being with Damen. Laurent needs to make it up to her, somehow, if she’ll let him. Maybe he could buy her flowers? Laurent has never bought flowers for anyone in his life, but he thinks Lykaios might like roses – unless that’s too romantic? Or maybe he could –

“Hey,” Damen says, interrupting his thought process.

Laurent looks up at him. Damen’s smile is radiant; it’s all white teeth and creased eyes. “Yeah?”

“Do me a favour.”

“Anything.”

Damen kisses him. Laurent smiles into it as his entire body fills with an unparalleled warmth. He’s not sure if he loves Damen back…but he’s confident he’s getting there.

Damen pulls back. He assesses Laurent with a stern frown. “Don’t ever do anything nice for me.”

Laurent huffs. He hides his face in Damen’s chest again. “Shut up.”

#captive prince #this is 7.5k lol i dont understand the concept of a drabble clearly #please lmk if read more doesnt work i dont want ppl to scroll through such a long post #@marrieddorks im very sorry for this lol #my fic #my writing

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bb-bambam · 4 years

Text

Past Meets Future

Jinyoung has been staring at the pair in front of him for nearly five minutes straight now without saying a word, but he still can't tear his eyes away. He feels like he's looking at a carbon-copy of himself, except it actually is him, just aged up by eight years. It's absolutely bizarre and fascinating and he honestly has no idea what the proper reaction to something like this is, but Jaebeom seems to be similarly in awe of his own future self, so Jinyoung thinks what he's doing now is probably reasonable.

All things considered, future-Jinyoung isn't that different from him now, at least physically-speaking. His cheeks have rounded out a bit, his ears don't stick out as visibly, and his hair is fluffy and soft rather than styled up with gel, but other than that, Jinyoung can easily believe that eight years from now, he'll become the confident-looking man in front of him.

Future-Jaebeom is a completely different story. Jinyoung spends much longer staring at him, because if it weren't for the tell-tale twin moles on his eyelid, the distinct shape of his nose, and the crescent shape of his eyes when he smiles, he would think that his Jaebeom and this grown-up version of him are totally different people. With his long hair, half tied up with the rest loosely framing his face and settling around his shoulders, the piercings on his nose and cheek, the lack of tension in his shoulders, future-Jaebeom looks more comfortable with himself than Jinyoung has ever known Jaebeom to be. And his Jaebeom probably thinks the same, Jinyoung knows, because a quick glance tells him that the Jaebeom next to him can't stop gaping.

"Gosh, look at us," future-Jinyoung sighs, his eyes fond. "We were so young."

"You were so cute, Jinyoungie," future-Jaebeom says, looking delighted. Jinyoung is amazed by how easily future-Jaebeom shares future-Jinyoung's personal space. Future-Jinyoung's arm is draped along the back of future-Jaebeom's chair and there isn't a centimeter of space between them – they almost look like they're purposely leaning against each other. It's a stark contrast to the awkward gap between himself and the Jaebeom next to him, both of them careful not to touch each other and Jaebeom very stiff in his seat.

Future-Jinyoung's lips curl into a mischievous smile. "What, I'm not cute now, Jaebeommie?"

Jinyoung chokes a little at the blatant disregard for honorifics. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see that Jaebeom is similarly stunned. "Oops, sorry," future-Jinyoung says a moment later, not looking very sorry at all. "I meant Jaebeommie-hyung." Somehow, the flippant way he says it feels even more scandalous than when he had left the honorific off.

"Jinyoungie, please," future-Jaebeom says, smiling like future-Jinyoung hasn't just casually broken one of his strictest rules. Out of the corner of his eye, Jinyoung can see Jaebeom's jaw jutting out angrily at future-Jaebeom's lax attitude, though he doesn't try to say anything. "You're stressing our baby selves out."

"Are you really us?" Jaebeom finally blurts out, still looking peeved.

"We certainly are," future-Jinyoung says brightly. "Hard to believe, though, right?"

Jinyoung finds himself nodding mutely. It is hard to believe that he and Jaebeom will ever be even half as comfortable with each other as the men sitting across from them seem to be. "It just –" he tries to say, and then gives up, deciding to ask something else instead. "Just – how?"

Their future selves laugh a little at that. "Give it time," future-Jaebeom says warmly. He eyes at his younger self pointedly as he continues. "You especially have a lot of growing up to do. And there are a lot of things you've internalized that you need to let go of." Jaebeom looks a little panicked, and future-Jaebeom smiles. "Don't worry. You'll get there eventually. And you have someone who'll be there for you through all of it."

Jinyoung meets Jaebeom's eyes, and the look he finds there makes him feel like Jaebeom is seeing him for the first time. He startles when he feels future-Jinyoung reach out and pat his hand comfortingly. "That means you have to be patient with him, okay?" future-Jinyoung says. "It's going to take him a while, and he's going to make a lot of mistakes that might hurt you."

"What?" Jinyoung glances at Jaebeom again, who looks surprisingly stricken at that.

Their future selves exchange a fond look with each other that makes Jinyoung feel like he's intruding on something private. "When that happens, you have to tell him," future-Jaebeom says, looking intently at Jinyoung, who feels his face heat up slightly under the older Jaebeom's gaze. "Because he likely won't even know he hurt you in the first place." He offers them both a small smile. "If there's anything I know for sure, it's that Im Jaebeom would never intentionally hurt Park Jinyoung. But that doesn't mean it doesn't happen accidentally."

"I'll tell him," Jinyoung promises. If this is what he needs to do so his Jaebeom will learn how to relax and turn into this softer, more comfortable Jaebeom, then he can do that.

"Good," future-Jinyoung says, his eyes twinkling.

"Nyoungie," future-Jaebeom says after a few moments, and the affection in his voice as he says the nickname is devastating. Jinyoung can't even imagine his Jaebeom ever speaking to him like that. "We have to go."

"I guess we should go try to find a way back too," Jaebeom says, making eye contact with Jinyoung and clearly trying to appear calmer and more mature than usual. Jinyoung finds it incredibly endearing, his effort to impress – his future self? Future-Jinyoung? Jinyoung isn't quite sure who the display is for, but it doesn't matter. He offers Jaebeom a shy smile, and is surprised to see Jaebeom's cheeks turn a little pink.

The four of them get up, and Jinyoung is left walking by himself, a few steps behind Jaebeom. He wonders when walking side-by-side will start coming to them naturally, the way it clearly does for their future selves, wonders how any of the familiar intimacy will ever develop between them if they can't even do something as simple as walk next to each other.

Future-Jinyoung seems to notice his worrying – and it makes sense that he does, Jinyoung supposes, considering they're the same person – because he slows down to walk next to Jinyoung. "Don't worry too much, mini-me," future-Jinyoung says, his voice soft. "I used to wonder whether it was all worth it too. But one day, he's going to wake up and realize that out of everything in his life, you're what matters to him most. And by that point, he's already going to be the most important part of your life too." He smiles at Jinyoung reassuringly. "It'll take a bit of effort from both of you, but I promise, no matter how it feels right now, you two are going to be okay." With that, he squeezes Jinyoung's shoulder lightly before running off to latch onto future-Jaebeom's arm. Jinyoung, suddenly filled with determination, speeds up a little to fall into step with his Jaebeom too.

While their future selves start talking to each other animatedly, Jinyoung and Jaebeom walk in silence. It still seems almost impossible that the scene in front of them will become their reality, but, as Jinyoung observes the way future-Jaebeom's eyes shine as he looks at future-Jinyoung, he allows himself to hope that they can get there one day.

#jjp #writing #it's been a while huh! enjoy!

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angstalottle · 5 years

Text

Lana On The Case

Part 3

Lana knew she shouldn’t have been expecting much, especially after spending the last week lying in bed stewing in her own filth and misery.

That didn’t change the fact that her current appearance still shocked her.

Her skin had gained an ashen quality about it and dark circles under her eyes.

She was sure is Red hadn’t practically force fed her she was have lost much more weight then she already had.

She felt drained and heavy, like her life was sucked out from her when Hannah left her…

Keith showing up had given her a small glimmer of excitement perhaps even hope but as soon as he was gone and she was left alone to her thoughts they turned right back to the fact that her best friend was gone from her life forever.

That thought hurt even more than knowing her sweet wonderful Hannah killed people.

Job offer or not Lana likely would have spent the rest of her life lying in her bed if her aunties hadn’t decided to do something about it.

One moment she's dozing staring into space, the next Blue has pulled her covers away while Re dumped a bucket of warm soapy water over her.

The two manhandled her out of bed and into some clean clothes before giving her two options.

One was to stay cooped up inside and suffer through them inviting every nosey friend they could think of over to omard her with questions and pinched cheeks followed by of course the dreaded relationship advice that everyone over a certain age believed they knew.

Or go down to the police station and actually do something with her life/

Though neither option was particularly fun in the end Lana chose to go out mainly because Red had also made a swinging joke which of course practically sent her bolting through the door.

The police station like everything else in the village was only a short walk away from the Altea estate, you could get pretty much anywhere by cutting through the large gardens that have unfortunately fallen into a state of disrepair.

The lady of the manor had died when Lana was away and since then the place hadn’t been the same, like some of the beauty of the world left when she did.

As far as she knew the only daughter of the family Allura was away for school or something while her father worked in London.

Lana had fond memories of Allura, being a few years younger then the girl and quite a bit poorer, she always seemed like this fairy princess that could have anything or do anything.

Looks like not even princesses could escape tragedy.

Lana hiked up her skirt as she climbed over the thick mess of weeds and flowers careful not to disturb anything as she passed through.

Even if everyone took the shortcut it was an unsaid rule that you were not to disturb the gardens or ever go close to the house.

Of course when Lance got her foot caught in a bramble and fell face first into the ground she broke that rule by flattening at least a dozen flowers beneath her.

“Oh dear are you alright?” A woman wearing a veil and long white gloves asked as she hurried over from the main house.

Odd appearance aside what really caught Lana’s attention was her snow white hair. A characteristic that was common amongst the Altean family.

Going off her build she could have been anywhere between 20-30 but without the face or hands it really was impossible to tell.

Lana felt her cheeks burn as she pulled herself up and dusted herself down frowning at the rip that now worked its way up her blue skirt.

The woman put her hands on her dress and examined the rip tutting softly “we really must get the gardener back in this place really has fallen to ruin.”

Now that she was closer Lana could smell the sweet scent of roses coming off her in such a large volume it would almost be suffocating if they weren't outside.

“Do you work here?” Lana asked trying to swallow her embarrassment while this strange woman kept hold of her skirt.

One strong breeze and she would see next weeks washing.

The woman chuckled “not exactly. I used to live here I never actually planned on returning but in light of my father's disappearance I suppose I didn’t have much choice.”

Lana couldn’t help but flinch, since what Hannah did came to light any case of men running off in the middle of the night or simply not returning after a day out is now considered suspect.

Their still digging up all the bodies and people have been flocking from all over in search of their missing husbands, fathers and brothers.

Lana then realised something very important.

Mainly that if Alfor was missing and this woman was his daughter then it must have been Allura!

“Allura?”

Lana couldn’t see her face but she imagined a smile on those pretty pink painted lips she used to know very well.

“That’s me, im sorry but who are you?”

Lana had her suspicions of course that this was all a scam, someone swooping in to steal the Altean family fortune, but she wasn’t really in the mood for any other mysteries right now.

That and according to Keith she was pretty forgettable.

“Oh im Lana… I used to play with you in the garden as a kid.”

“Oh my i'm so sorry Lana, im afraid my memory hasn’t been that good since the accident. She gestured to her veil and gloves “I got caught up in the Blitz and i'm afraid my appearance paid a higher price then by mind.”

Lana felt guilt crawl into her stomach, well at least she didn’t outright accuse her of being a con artist. Besides Coran was a dear friend of the family, there's no way someone would be able to just take over Allura’s life without him noticing.

“Im sorry, I didn’t realise.”

Allura waved her off finally letting go of her skirt “don’t worry about it, ive made my peace with my situation, it is a tad lonely though, people aren't exactly eager to visit the manor these days.” She sounded so sincerely sad that Lana couldn’t help but feel for her.

She knew what it was like to lose everything because of a situation out of her control, the war had stolen many things from them, Lana was lucky to keep her beauty at least.

“Well then I suppose I have no choice but to come round for tea, I would invite you to my aunts cottage but they tend to get too excited around anyone they used to know.”

Lana gave her the best smile she could manage and was rewarded by Allura taking her hands and kissing them.

Once again her face turned an interesting shade of red.

“That sounds simply wonderful Lana, how about Thursday at 8 o'clock?”

Lana had lost her ability to form words so simply nodded earning her a small chuckle in response.

“I don’t want to keep you if your busy so ill just see you Thursday?” Allura asked startling Lana out of her stupor.

“Yes I should go, but i'll erm see you then I promise.”

Lana stuttered deciding it was best to continue on her way before she made an even bigger fool of herself so mustered up what grace she had to give an awkward curtsy realising that was dumb halfway through and instead turned and hurried on her way hitting herself muttering “stupid stupid stupid” over and over again until she finally arrived at the police station.

As expected of a small town the police station was fairly quiet this time of day home only to the drunks that were picked up the night before and only now being released to go back to their family or in some cases the church.

Of course one would expect it to be much busier with the number of bodies being dug up but unfortunately since Hannah left and it became national news the investigation had been taken over by some fancy out of state law enforcement that walk around in nice suits and a stuck up attitude to match their overall pompous appearance.

Going off the sour atmosphere in the station no one was too pleased to have the villages first ever big case stolen from under them.

Lana did her best to smile politely as she made her way to reception preparing herself for awkward small talk with someone she really hoped wouldn't recognise her.

“Hello im here-”

“If you got a crime to report fill out the form if not get lost.”

The woman behind the desk looked too young to be working, her slight frame and big doe eyes making her seem like she couldn't be much older than 15 but then again looks can be deceiving. Like the fact that despite wearing big round glasses and squinting at a book in front of her the glass within the frame appeared to be purely decorative and not actually serve any function.

Lana cleared her throat “no actually i'm here about the job. Im expected.”

This time she at least bothered to look up from her book and glanced Lana up and down “what they replacing me with some tramp, i've worked here ten years and they bring in some totty to take my job”

Lana quickly held up her hands feeling actually pretty threatened by this tiny angry lady “no! No i'm the new consultant im supposed to be working with Keith and-”

“Oi Keith! Some broad here says shes your new partner!” She yelled and just like that, all eyes were on her.

Lana smiled awkwardly at them really wishing a hole would appear beneath her and swallow her up whole so she could escape this situation.

However the only thing the universe sent her was a very flustered keith running in from the back.

He was carrying a stack of papers and had that god awful mullet tied back in a ponytail that honestly didn't look half bad on him.

“Thanks Katie i can take her from here.” Keith dropped the papers on her desk “Also Griffin needs you to file these for him.”

“He could do it himself” Katie grumbled grabbing the papers and flicking through them “he didn't even bother filling some of these out!”

Keith quietly grabbed Lana’s arm and pulled her towards him as Katie got distracted with her angry mutterings “Sorry about her, she's just pissed that her dad lost his job to a hot shot whos dad just happens to be a governor.”

“Ah where would be be without nepotism” Lana chuckled letting Keith led her back into a small office where five other people were sat. She assumed the cells were behind one of the closed doors and perhaps the archive room behind another.

It had been a long time since she had been back here, it was certainly before the war was even a possibility and she had broken the wrong persons window and ended up having to wait for her mother by Corans desk.

People tend to say that places from your youth always seem so much smaller when you visit them again. Until now Lana wasn't really sure she bought into that nostalgia fueled nonsense.

But seeing the row of chairs her feet used to dangel off while she prepared an excuse for her behaviour for her furious mother now looked like they would fall apart if she just got too close let alone sat on one.

At least not all the changes were bad. Coran really did deserve that nice office and the title Detective neatly painted above his name.

“You know I was starting to think you wouldn't be coming” Keith said as they came to what Lana assumed was his desk. It was a little away from the others and scattered with paper work in various states of finished. It lacked much personality beyond a couple of knives and oh boy keith standing next to an incredibly attractive man that Lana realised fairly quickly must have been his older brother.

“To be honest i wasn't sure either, my life kinda went to hell but Aunt Blue and Red practically shoved me out of the door.”

Keith chuckled in response as her perched on the edge of his desk “that sounds about right. Though I hate to say it but you've kind of come on boring day. Everyones so desperate for something to do that their even taking the grunt work from me.”

“So what your just sitting around all day?” Lana asked right as a hand collided with her behind.

Lana likes to think herself an understanding woman. Or at least she tries to ever since the instadent where what she thought was a gropper on a train turned out to be a blind man having dropped his cain. So rather then turning around and grabbing the arm of whoever just did that to break over her knee she calmly turned to them.

She came face to face with a tall man that she unfortunately recognised.

James Griffin top of the class when they went to school together and by far the most arrogant man she ever met. And that was before he got a cushy job thanks to his dad.

Lana glared up at him giving him a chance to apologize or say he had mistaken her for his girlfriend that was into that kind of thing.

Instead he just smirked “wow Keith how did you find yourself this hot piece of ass.”

Ok she was going to break his nose now.

Unfortunately before she got the chance keith stepped in front of her “don't talk to her like that Griffin, Coran hired her himself as a consultant and i'm sure he wouldn't take that kind of behaviour.’

James rolled his eyes but did visibly tense as he shot a glance at the closed office door. “Whatever. This whole thing is just for press, whoever heard of a woman police officer. Their far too emotional.”

“Last I checked you were the one that cried when i kicked you in the nuts as kids.” Lana huffed crossing her arms.

“Ah buck teeth Lana! My my you did fill out nicely. How about after work I take you out?” Jame smiled looking her up and down in a way that made her skin crawl.

“How about I tell your mother that you slap my ass, if i remember right she was a reasonable woman.”

Oh how quickly his attitude changed. He swallowed whatever response he had ready and scurried off to his office next to Corans.

“What a creep.”

“Yeah but a rich one.” Keith sighed “you ok?”

“Yeah just kinda pissed i didn't get to make that jerk squeal like in highschool.” Lana noticed a small smirk appear at the corner of keiths lips at that and decided to take it as a win even if she could still feel his disgusting hand on her.

Unfortunately the next few hours were not as exciting.

Lana pulled up a chair across from Keith and kept herself busy by flicking pieces of paper at him, an activity that he avoided joining in with for exactly ten minutes.

They were so wrapped up in their game that they didn't notice coran standing next to the desk until after Keith made the winning shot and jumped up to let out a victory cry.

“It's nice to see you've found a way to keep miss Mclain here entertained during our slow day.” Coran chuckled as Keith startled and quickly cleared his throat trying to hide the blush quickly creeping up his face.

“Detective i can explain”

Coran held his hand up quickly cutting him off “no need, I understand the importance of a bit of fun to avoid dying of boredom. The time for that has now sadly passed im sending you to look into a missing persons cases.”

Keith and lana exchanged a look, while lana’s was excitement Keiths was confusion.

“Sir while im happy for a case why not give it to someone else? Im sure all the others would kill for a case right now.”

Coran simply chuckled to himself handing over a case file “because Kogane your the only officer here I trust not to get side tracked while investigating. That and i'm sure Lana here will make sure your eyes don't wander too far.”

Lana wasn't really sure what he meant by that until they got to the scene of the crime.

Or as everyone else calls it the ‘Galra Gentlemens Club’.

When the club first opened it was met with outcry from the church and the school boards and well anyone with too much time on their hands.

Now after being open for more than a decade, those same people have become the most lucrative clientele, who know stuck up prudes could have such deep pockets for the sinful arts.

Keith had kindly offered to give Lana a ride on the handlebars of his bike since the club was located uphill from the station and there was no way the poor old police car would make it up the whole way. Apparently a replacement was on its way but they had been promising it since before the war.

Lana had of course told Keith that while she appreciate the offer she would find the very idea outlandishly improper, so of course made him ride the handle bars while she put her years of missing the bus and not wanting to be late training to good use.

After a quick check with her compact and a nod to Keith they entered the club.

Lana was no stranger to Gentlemens clubs, she had been to more than a few during the war to meet with people who were usually a lot more willing to give up information when they had a few drinks in them.

This club was no different, everything was a sickening deep purple as if the colour alone could make it classy or hide the disturbingly prominent wet patches on the couches.

Lana tried her very best not to stare at the men already here this early on a weekday morning and instead focused on following Keith back to see the manger.

“Just let me do the talking, guys like this aren't always that nice to women” Keith whispered as he knocked on the door and it swung open to not show a greasy man but instead a very tall muscular woman with short black hair wearing a suit.

Lana felt her mouth go dry just looking at her.

“A-are you the manager here?” Keith asked clearly feeling equally intimidated and aroused as Lana was.

“Yeah i am, who wants to know?” She asked leaning against the doorway and looking down at him. Her gaze however moved quickly from keith to Lana and a smile spread across her face.

“Usually we don't hire new talent outside of auditions but for a beautiful girl like you im willing to make an exception.”

“I” Lana squeaked finding herself speechless for the first time in a long time.

Thankfully Keith came to her rescue before she could actually contemplate working for this greek god of a woman.

“Actually we came from the police station. You called about one of the dancers going missing?”

The woman nodded and stepped back into the room hurrying them inside before closing the door.

“Yeah my best girl Ezor, she was seen leaving the club last week but no one has seen her since.”

“Does she often disappear like this? Perhaps to visit a gentleman caller miss...?” Keith asked pulling out a notebook while Lana looked around the office.

“Zethrid…. And trust me she's not the sorts to make house calls.”

It was fairly empty save for a punching bag in the corner and a few pictures on the walls. Most of them were group shots of all the dancers in costumes. But those actually on the desk seemed only to contain Zethrid and a slim woman with pink hair tied in a high ponytail. It was just the two of them over and over again smiling like they didn't have a care in the world.

“Is this Ezor here?” Lana asked picking up one picture showing the two in the park, judging from the bunting and celebrating in the background it was the day the allie ‘won’ the war.

Zethrid nodded “yeah that's her… we actually live together and yeah she disappears sometimes but never for this long and never without contacting me.”

“Is it possible she ran off with a sweetheart?” Keith asked taking the picture.

“She wouldn't. I know she's been taken its the only explanation.”

Something told Lana that this relationship was deeper than friendship “The last night she was seen, was there anything unusual happening?”

Zethrid thought for a moment “now that you mention it there was a black car parked outside the club all day. I didn't give it much mind incase it was a customer trying to work up the nerve to come in but it left right after she did.”

“Did you happen to catch the plates?” Keith asked hopefully only to let out a disappointed sigh when she shook her head no.

“But the car was old looking with a dent in the drivers side door.”

Keith noted it down “thanks we will be in touch.”

He led the way out but Zethrid grabbed Lana by the arm before she could leave “please i can't imagine life without her… she's my best friend.”

Lana knew what it was like to lose one of those. So she smiled and put a hand over hers “I promise ill do everything I can to find her.”

Once they were safely outside keith let out a groan “you should promise people anything, it just means you'll get attached to the case.”

“Isn't that the job of a detective though? How can i love a case if i don't care about it?” Lana huffed hitching up her skirt and getting on the bike.

“I'm just saying that it will end up hurting you more if we find her dead in a ditch somewhere.”

Lana rolled her eyes “ever the optimist huh Mullet. Besides we have a lead how many people in town have old black cars?”

“Excluding the police cruiser i'd say seven.” Keith noticed the sceptical look Lana was giving him and rolled his eyes.

“My brother owns the mechanics remember, i help out sometimes and not many people really have cars round here.”

Lana sighed “maybe we should get a second opinion from your dreamy brother.” she batted her eyelashes playfully at him as he climbed onto the handle bars.

“Shut up and pedal we've got a lot of groundwork to do.”

Five hours!

It took five hours to find all the cars, to check for dents and alibis.

In that time Lana fell into two ditches, got attacked by a chicken and the rip in her dress traveled up to past her knee.

As her mother would say she's only some red lipstick away from looking like a whore.

Lana wished she could say that time was well spent and while watching Keith getting chased by an angry family of pigeons that had taken resident in one of the old cars they ultimately ended up on a dead end.

So while the light began to fade and the two slowly walked up to the station the mood was sour.

“It could always have been someone from out of town?” Lana suggested holding the split in her dress to try and keep it from travelling any higher.

“No they would have been too noticeable. If someone from out of town drove through here everyone would know about it by now. We must have missed something.”

Lana shivered in the cool air and was surprised when Keith handed over his jacket without taking his eyes off the path.

The red really did suit him better but the warmth from his body made her feel better.

“We should check surrounding houses tomorrow, maybe one of the cars was taken without the owner realising.”

“And what they dented it and then undented it?’ Keith snorted “no if the dent was fixed it would have had to come through the shop. Shiro may be able to help.”

“I'll try to hide my disappointment” Lana laughed earning her a playful push from Keith which she returned.

The two were laughing and having a moment of fun that when cold hard reality finally came crashing down Lana felt like she had been punched in the face.

Just as they walked in the car they were looking for pulled in behind them.

Old, black and with a large dent on the side.

The only problem was that it was Coran driving it.

#langst #fem lance #1940s detective au #klance #allurance #pidge #Coran #james griffin

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theprettysetterclub · 4 years

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hey can i have a matchup? i'm a tall girl 178cm (like tanaka i think) i'm loud when im excited i tend to talk fast. im sarcastic n i tell jokes a lot, im pretty goofy but i know when to be serious. im always listening to music. i also pick up on other peoples actions and moods a lot and try to match them and if they're down i do my best to cheer them up. i've been told that im intimidating bc im tall and i have this stare lol i also dont talk unless spoken too unless ur my friends. :)

hey its me again!!!! im the 178 girl. i forgot to say that my gender pronouns are she/her and that im sixteen lol have a good day/night :))

you’re younger than me and yet so much taller,,, i’m,,, so jealous,,, (also i just assumed you wanted one of the boys, but if you actually wanted a girl, please let me know!) also sorry for the wait!

after some debate with myself, i match you with…

tsukishima kei!

✧ the contrast! you and tsukki have such different personalities and i think you’d balance each other out so well? but at the same time, you have enough in common to maintain an excellent rapport and ugh

✧ tsukki might seem like he’s annoyed at the fact that you can be loud, but he’s secretly fond of it. whenever he complains, just bring up the fact that he’s still with you – he can’t really say much to that fsdklj but honestly, he likes that you’re quite different from him in a lot of ways? it keeps things interesting

✧ he’s able to keep up with you pretty well, even though people don’t expect it? he’s a bit like your translator dlksdflkj you can be speaking at top speed and he’s still caught every word

✧ you’re the most sarcastic couple in the world, oh my god,,, his sarcasm is a bit more dry and understated that yours, but you’re always keeping each other on your toes. the team are kind of surprised because you’re actually able to get a chuckle out of him? they’re just in awe of your talent kljds

✧ furthermore, the concept of tsukki with a goof,,, i love it,,, it’s yet another thing that baffles the team, because they always kind of thought he’d end up with someone a bit more,,, stoic? but no, he’s with you, and he’s happy. seriously, they’ve never seen him smile this much (akiteru adores you by the way, he thinks you’re nothing but a good influence on his little brother)

✧ you’re honestly the only person who can really cheer him up? he calls you a dummy all the time, but watching you be all goofy just,,, makes him smile? but if anyone points it out (let’s be honest, it’d be tadashi), he’ll call them an idiot (speaking of tadashi,,, he’s the one who introduced you two, because you’re both on the quieter side. he didn’t necessarily intend for the two of you to get together, but he counts it as a stroke of good luck)

✧ you’re pretty good at picking up on his moods, and that’s a bit of a godsend. most people have a hard time reading him, but you can do it with ease. so, in some ways, you’re his translator, too! (although if you tell anyone how soft he can really be there will be Consequences,,, those consequences being a very flustered tsukki)

✧ he likes sharing music with you! it’s usually something he keeps to himself, but the fact he’s willing to show you what he listens to goes to show how much he actually likes you. cue the ‘sharing earphones’ shtick. tell him he’s blushing and he’ll deny it.

✧ you guys’d just be so cute? and i love the contrast? OH and before i go,,, visually intimidating couple hhh everyone’s kinda scared because you’re both so tall but tsukki kind of loves it

other matches!

✧ kageyama tobio: hinata played a pivotal role in the two of you getting together dslkjd it’s likely that you both didn’t really talk to each other before he git involved. kageyama’s also another ‘straight shooter’ who i’d love to see have a fun dynamic with you? kageyama having a goofy partner makes me feel all soft tbh; he can’t necessarily keep up with your sense of humour, but he’s always a little in awe of it? watching you be all goofy does something to his heart and he just doesn’t know how to handle it slkdslkj but at the same time, it’s good that you’re able to pick up on other people’s moods because this boy has a lot of difficulty expressing himself.

✧ inuoka sou: ah, but this guy’s a big goof himself! when the two of you get taking, the rest of the team just can’t keep up; you’re talking at a mile a minute, and you have a ton of inside jokes. you’re both loud and playful, and i can see you two having a lot of fun together! you’re both the type to try and cheer people up, so you’re a little whirlwind of positivity when you’re together. so while they can’t necessarily keep up with you, the team enjoys having you guys around.

#haikyuu matchups #tsukishima matchup

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misterbitches · 4 years

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- sun’s advice was terrible tho that’s y u followed ur dreams so if mork has any dreams besides being cute and confused encourage that

i cannot express how much i enjoy their dynamic. it’s usually all the things that i think i need; someone who can keep up, who’s probably more outgoing and outwardly personable, a little older since sometimes it seems like you’re operating on 50 yr old levels of stress, and someone that will support you and make you laugh. that could give way to co-dependence but when done slowly and when you don’t have absolute insanity carried with you it’s soooo cute.

i always love when the more quiet/reserved/probs sadder lmao person is being helped and theyre like uh no but then their Bae is like “no srsly”

“no” “no but really” “i can carry these 5000 bags by MYSELF” and they just stare at them til they’re like ohuasfojifa OKAAAY

i’m rly not in2 not having free will, but it’s easier to relinquish control or calm down and notice people have ur back too when u let them care 4 u! wow ! i dont want any angst...

it’s also nice how like...outwardly cute sun is (sunny...ahahahhahahahha...) and mork is like >:O or >:? but he’s not really grumpy, cos i hate mean grumpy ppl esp men, just more to himself and up in the clouds. he and rain are one of my fav friendships i’ve seen in a while. how nice is it to know that you have a friend that will always listen to you? protect you? cover for you? and he doesnt really expect much in return, but that’s rain’s boy!!! x___X

x______________x

gna keep upd8nng as i remind myself:

- when he (mork) was like “lemme help u” in kma moving the table cos he’s #cute and sun was like ?word? and also when he came 2 Fite those dudes in the cafe with Rain and also when he saw sun staring at kao and he was like aw that’s sad huh - podd looks a lot older than he actually is lmao (if that is indeed his real age) and it floors me every time that he’s younger than me, he doesn’t look ancient just legit in his late 20s/early 30s (thank god he nor sun is cos rme) but i digress - sun obbbvvvvsssssss thinks he’s cute but im like do u always nag ppl u like so much? i know they like each other and sun probably knows more abt his feelings cos mork is 404notfound but i wonder when it will like hit him fully cos rn i dnt see it just like oh wow ur cute and i like staring in2 ureyes - i am increeeeddddiiiiibllllyyyy curious as to what mork’s like in love (anticipating i will come back 2 this 2 c wat i thot) like hes probs more ok with sun taking care of him, im sure he likes to be touched byhim, he’s obvs sentimental so he’ll probs(if he doesnt) have a folder of Sun Stuff idt he’s not forthcoming with his feelings it’s just hard for him 2 think ppl care? and obvs he is v reckless to a fault but when he asked sun about the rent on the cafe and let him talk about why he started it and then told him about how much his dad loves him (fiiiirrstable wow cute u love ur best friend, his dad, n his bro *_*) he’s proven to be a caring person and friend and will def b a caring bf. i wonder if it hurt him when he pushes sun during FenceGate - the scene where mork is cleaning up sun’s injuries i thot the earplugs were a cochlear implant, i rewound it a trillion times and then i was like wait those r..earplugs LOL but u ever think abtwhy u wanted 2 clean his injuries huh mork??!!?!!?!??!??! - ik im not rly a power dynamic person so i prefer an equality in the give/take, i think theyre both tooooo stubborn to be able to relinquish control but there’s a diff in just letting someone be with you and not needing to be on all the time. like for once mork can relax - when mork got ready 4 sun (”work”) cutest shit ever lmao im positive he knows that he obvs feels diff abt sun to rain but he’s like rly working hard to get thru it lmaoooo and sun’s like bitch ill wait - uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh looking in2 each other’s eyes...idk how they’re moreromantic than what we get with petekao and theyre not even together but (upside smiiley face emoji) - the smiles during the apron tying and the lolz at the kitty stuff. first of all, this is why i think theyll be smooth sailing once they get their shit together cos that was so nice! genuinely just like a mutual luv/understanding~*~** but i guess mork is rly fond of that family - i have more things i ned to come back 2 iahsughaj lots of fun might rewatch their stuff, cure my depression and be acne-less - sun would defffff fpush mork’s hair out of his eyes

cool

#much to ponder #morksun #morkrain #!!!!#family

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

Text

this one's called "im finally heading home and I wrote this on my phone in the airport and Ash does have family, and it's weird to see even one of them, set 79''

"Ashley? Ashley Clarke?" The moment Ash hears her full name being called at an after party in an accent that's far too familar, her blood runs cold. They're playing in London and she never expected anyone from her home town to be here, now. The music around her becomes white noise as she turns on her heel, ready to tell whoever it is to fuck off, she may not recognise the voice, but they obviously recognise her, which is enough to set her on edge. But when she turns, there's a young woman behind her, grinning and surprisingly familiar. "I almost didn't recognise you." The woman laughs, stepping into Ash's space and wrapping her in a hug.

"Do I know you?" Ash asks, awkwardly prying the young woman off of her, and the girl's face falls.

"Ashley it's me, it's Mikayla." And the moment it clicks into place, that this woman is her younger sister, Ash takes another step back, frowning, a sudden anxiety coursing through her, even after all these years.

"What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"I saw the show, and one of my friends knows, I don't know, someone who knows someone who got us invited here; I didn't know you'd be here." Mikayla speaks like she's trying to calm a frightened animal, and surprisingly it actually seems to work. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." And she goes to leave, but Ash reaches out, snagging her sister by the shoulder.

"Minnie- wait," she sighs, forcing herself to relax, "how old are you now?" And when Minnie answers that she's twenty-two, not even bothering to hide her confused and a little hurt frown, Ash pulls her to the bar and buys her a drink.

"If you're twenty-two that means it's been," Ash takes her out to the back of the pub where it's quieter, where they have more space to themselves, "fuck, it hasn't really been eleven years, has it? No wonder I didn't recognise you," Ash laughs, but Minnie isn't nearly so candid about it.

"Yeah, a lots happened since you left."

"Since I was kicked out," Ash corrects sharply, and Minnie at least has the decency to look apologetic, "where's Ellie?"

"Fucked if I know, probably playing happy families," she doesn't sound happy about it, "she's married, you know? Last I heard she was expecting, but that was a while ago, so who knows," she shrugged, taking a long sip of he drink as Ash's brow furrowed.

"You and Ellie don't speak?"

"Well I mean her husband is my ex-fiance so..." She shrugged, before giving Ash a wry smile. "Like I said, a lot's happened."

"Min, that's fucked, what the hell? You guys were The Shining twins when I left," Ash's eyes are wide as saucers as she looks at her little sister, who laughs, loud and sharp.

"We were eleven!" There's a long pause, and Minnie looks up to the stars above, her smile turning soft and whistful. "It's so strange, I never realised how much I missed you 'til I saw you again. Were you just planning to never come back? Never see us again?"

"Mum and dad don't want to see me," Ash rolled her eyes, and Minnie frowned.

"Of course they do! I mean, mum acts like doesn't want to see anyone apart from Ellie, she's barely spoken to Oz since his divorce - Oz got married too, by the way, like it didn't work out but the ceremony was beautiful - but she's just a traditionalist hypocrite."

"Oz got married?" Ash's voice is so gentle it almost hurts, and when Minnie looks at her, she sees the tears in Ash's eyes.

"You'd love his kids," Minnie smiles, taking her sisters hand and giving a fond squeeze, "Allen's almost ten, looks just like a little version of Oz, and Jackie's six, she's a terror." Minnie laughs softly, and Ash joins her. Part of her is completely overwhelmed with guilt, but then she pushes it down; however much she would have liked to see her brother, it doesn't override the fact that he was one of the people who helped run her out of town when she was nineteen. Brushing the tears from her eyes, Ash smiles.

"I'll have to meet them one day, now Min, what have you been up to-" before Ash can finish asking her question, Minnie grabs her hand, eyes wide as she focuses on the ring on Ash's finger.

"Did you get married?" She gasps, and Ash pulls her hand from Minnie's grasp.

"Calm down, I'm just engaged." She laughs softly, but Minnie is still agape.

"Ace, you're engaged, to who?" She demands to know, which startles a laugh from Ash.

"God, no-one's called me that in years," she mused, "he's around here somewhere, I'll introduce you later." She assured, and that set Minnie off on a whole new round of questions, why she was at the party, what she'd been doing with her life, how long she'd been with this 'mystery man' (and wouldn't Roger get a kick out of that).

Ash is hesitant to tell Minnie too much, she doesn't blame the girl for what happened over a decade ago, she was eleven at the time after all, but it was an automatic response when speaking to her family. She says she's a designer and that alludes to the fact that she works with the band before she's off and asking Minnie about her own life. Minnie really had changed in the past decade, dropping out of university to become an assistant to a museum curator. Of course this delights Ash, and Minnie's halfway through gushing about their latest collection when her voice dies in her throat and her eyes go wide.

"So this is where you've hidden yourself away, you know Freddie's been looking for you." Roger slings an arm around Ash's waist as he comes up to the sisters, shooting Minnie a grin where she's giving him a starry-eyed gaze.

"Oh god, he hasn't ripped that jacket has he?" Ash asks, leaning her head against his shoulder and wearing a terribly put-upon look. Roger snorts, shaking his head. "Is it his pants? I told him I'm not fixing another broken zipper," Ash groaned, before waving it off. "Whatever, Paul has a packet of safety pins, he'll survive; Rog, this is Minnie." She introduces, as if finally remembering her little sister sitting across from her. Roger sticks out his free hand.

"Mikayla, hi." Minnie corrects with flushed cheeks, snapping from star-struck to flirtatious in an instant. Ash fights to not roll her eyes, which she thinks Roger can sense by the way he gives her hip a squeeze.

"Minnie," Ash says pointedly, "this is Roger Taylor, my fiance." Minnie just about screams at that, at the please little grin Roger's wearing. "This is my little sister." Ash clarifies, and suddenly any confusion Roger had had cleared in an instant.

"I thought I recognised you," and he turns, lifting Ash's chin so she's looking at him, though she seems incredibly exasperated, and he's amused for the barest moment before pinching he cheek and turning back to Minnie, "you've got the same face."

"Similar, not the same." It's an kneejerk response from Minnie, who's lived her life hearing those words while standing beside her twin, but Roger doesn't think too hard about it and concedes easily.

Roger hides his confusion easily, but Ash knows it's there. For all the time she's known him the only thing she's ever genuinely been cagey about is her family, he knew she had a sister, well two, but the other doesn't seem to be here, but he's never really known anything about them beyond their names. But even so, he can tell Ash is nervous, even though she goes to commendable lengths to hide it. He's zoned out from the conversation for a bit, but when he comes to, Ash is grinning at him.

"Huh?"

"Min wants to know what I do for the band," Ash grins, before Roger smirks at her and she elbows him, "don't be gross." She warned, but that only made him smile wider.

"So this one Halloween-" Roger starts, but Ash stands so fast her chair goes crashing to the ground. She's as red as her hair, and she slaps a hand over his mouth.

"I told you to not be gross- stop licking my hand!" She cries, and he tries to say something but she refuses to move. Minnie watches like she can't quite fathom that her sister is bantering and engaged to the rock star she's had a crush on since she was fifteen. "Don't bring that up around my little sister, and anyways that Halloween is between you, me, and the trees-" She snapped though she was grinning, and finally she removed her hand.

"So that's what you're calling him-" and with that Roger's mouth is covered again, but they're both laughing, he's got his arms around her and Ash has her forehead pressed to his chest, but Minnie's starting to put two and two together.

"Ace..." A little in awe but mostly scandalised, "have you-?"

"No, shut up, whatever it is I haven't done it!" Ash is quick to deny, stepping away from Roger as he simply laughs louder, though he's quiet endeared by the nickname. "I'm their stylist, I make their clothes and plan their outfits." She clears up, though Minnie raises her eyebrows sceptically. "I'm gonna kill you when we get home," she murmurs to Roger, but she's smiling, and he just wiggles his eyebrows at her. Minnie feels something break in her mind... They live together; her older sister is in love with Roger Taylor, and despite all the tabloid articles she's read about his reputation, he loves her too.

"I've missed you, Ashley," Minnie says when Roger returns to the crowd. They both watch him go, and Ash is wearing a smile that the younger woman knows all too well, how smitten she is with that pretty rock star. Ash grins at Minnie, taking her hand and giving it a fond squeeze.

"I've missed you too, Minnie."

#this one's called #ash #ask your destiny to dance fic

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