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kaminohana · 3 years

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the meme man full analysis

Yeehaw here we go. Analysis of Mikoto Kayano’s video and song, along with some theories about the many themes and symbols in the video. Note: If there’s any other supplemental material for him out there, I haven’t read it. This is just an analysis with the music video we were given. If I happen to miss stuff that was mentioned before, I may talk about it in another post lmao

I was SUPER invested in this video as I watched it and soon realized “Oh shit, I think Mikoto’s plural”. Cuz, you know, I’m plural too (not disclosing what kind) and it felt SO good to see some actual parallels to stuff I go through- though of course not to Mikoto’s degree.

That said, I feel I should make a disclaimer in passing: yes, portraying your only plural character as homicidal ain’t the best representation. But, you know, we’ve seen other cases like that in Milgram so I’m just gonna leave it at that. Personally, I’m not that offended because the execution is SO top-notch. Though, hey, I totally understand how this can be very frustrating to other systems to see plurality depicted in such an unhealthy light- if it’s not for you, it’s not for you.

Keep in mind the point of the Milgram series is to make you uncomfortable in so quickly incriminating someone; if you’re hesitating to determine someone as guilty, hey, that’s probably intended and good! It’s about personal decision, so I’m not going to judge you one way or the other in voting. I just find it fascinating how these videos can put us in such conflict. This is all just my own perspective, BTW, so if you disagree with some of these points, good! I’m just hoping to share my thoughts since I can make a lot of connections. I’m by no means an expert in plurality or tarot, I just have some background in both and decided to try my hand at this analysis, so I really don’t the final say on what’s going on in the video.

Now, onto the actual video analysis.

I’m sticking with the basic idea that Mikoto is split into two parts; his more loveable, gentler side, which I referred to in another post as Softboy Mikoto, and the more violent side which may be acting as a catharsis to his frustrations. I referred to this side previously as the Devil alter, as he is depicted with the Devil major arcana tarot card. I can see how this could be taken badly, so for now I’m just going to refer to him as the shadow alter. There are many themes of duality in the video, most commonly with the symbol of the half moon which appears so many times. Shadow of the moon etc etc. I’ll be bringing this up several times as I analyze the lyrics. I’ll be breaking down the lyrics as evidence to support the idea that Mikoto is plural, and to show how softboy Mikoto (and shadow alter Mikoto) view this particular relationship and how this culminates in murder. Sometimes I refer to Mikoto (as a whole), softboy Mikoto, or shadow alter Mikoto depending on what I’m trying to describe in the below.

First piece: the title. MeMe. Me x2. A dead giveaway, like Umbilical. Also, it can be a meme, which is interesting taking the definition of the word meme in this context: “an element of a culture or system of behavior passed from one individual to another by imitation or other nongenetic means” (Oxford Dictionaries). HMMMM. I know memes are generally within the context of a community, but I think it’s interesting to actually apply this to Mikoto. What exactly is being passed on? Could we argue that Mikoto’s frustrations from one of his parts is being passed on to the other? Interesting to think about, though it may not be relevant.

Going into the lyrics:

So from here I’m guessing there was a point in Mikoto’s life where his plurality was not an issue; or, potentially, there was a time before his split. These were the good times.

Playing dead vs. being alive – representing duality. May refer to how, when one side has their way, the other is locked away in the headspace with no control, thus feeling like being dead. In the context of “if only”, perhaps he’s wishing that he just didn’t do anything if only to prevent things from getting this far.

“If” I could end- I believe Mikoto (particularly softboy Mikoto) is saying “Hey, I have no control over my other side. If I did, would things still be the same? Would I still be ‘letting’ this happen?”

“Keep it” and “hide it away” I feel like are both representative of his shadow alter and of the desires that alter represents. Many words related to destruction are tied to this alter, so it could be seen as Mikoto trying to hide those urges as well.

“’I’ will save ‘me’”- this is a very interesting line that I think very well encapsulates the shadow alter’s initial motives; he’s saying “hey, I’m going to take care of us,” I believe to try and convince softboy Mikoto to let him out. As far as if softboy Mikoto can actually “let” him out is TOTALLY up for debate.

Part of the reason I refer to the other alter as softboy Mikoto is because there are softer words I notice used by him in the song; here’s I’m seeing “snuggle”, so I think this side of him is more vulnerable and soft.

SWITCH, shake up that brain- wow couldn’t be any more obvious here

This is where the chorus starts. This I think is from softboy Mikoto’s perspective, PARTICULARLY when he’s trapped in the headspace. There are many forms of plurality IRL in which alters cannot simultaneously front, so one or more are “pushed” back into the headspace. This very act occurs several times throughout the song in the weird minimalist vaporwave shadow realm room, where the tarot cards are. During this time, we can assume that is when the shadow alter is fronting. Softboy Mikoto slowly starts to become more helpless and fearful in this space as the song goes on, and this is where he makes his celtic cross tarot spread that quite frankly defines the whole song. I discussed that in my other post.

Another facet of plurality that is applied here is amnesia, which is common, especially when alters are pushed back to the headspace. Within the headspace, there may be a lack of awareness to the outside world, which Mikoto seems to express in his confused sentiments like the above (in the video, he is also scratching his head, which as a gesture can represent being confused). “Why am I here?” can act as a double entendre, both referring to “Why have I suddenly been pushed to this headspace?” as well as the whole point of Milgram- “Why am I in prison?”. He may not be aware of exactly what he did, hence why he feels it’s a mistake. He may be experiencing amnesia of what his shadow alter is doing, so he doesn’t even know what crime he committed. However, he at least has enough awareness to tell someone else is present in his body doing things, so he begs the viewer “Hey, just watch whatever my body is doing and it’ll all eventually make sense. I don’t have access to this information, but you do.” I thought this was an interesting fourth wall break.

The truth revealing itself could also be the truth coming to light from the particular tarot reading he does in the headspace; note that the cards only seem to be appear in this place and not in the outside world. So softboy Mikoto is trying to figure out what’s going on this way. If he can’t figure it out himself, maybe the cards can give him some direction.

Another duality- “I won’t forgive you if you reveal the truth” vs. “However I know I’m right when I say I’m innocent”. Or he could be right about something else.

I’m wondering if the breaking here is just reflecting the shadow alter or is softboy Mikoto actually wishing he could end the shadow alter. He at least wants things to change; the way things are right now is not something he’s okay with. Though, it sounds like he isn’t getting help with this and has no idea if he can even arrest full control again. It seems at this point, this has been going on for a while so he’s stopped trying.

In the video, the shadow alter is doing a GREAT job hiding the evidence; while of course probably just trying to not get caught, the shadow alter may also be trying to hide his crime from softboy Mikoto so he’s none the wiser.

He’s hoping he can be rid of the shadow alter side, but I think he also is dumping all his difficult feelings onto the shadow alter. Maybe he feels its some sort of release, even if he can’t control it, so he feels a lot of guilt over the shadow alter’s existence, even though that alter is serving a purpose as a conduit for those emotions.

I really really think though that there IS some connection between softboy Mikoto and shadow alter Mikoto. Maybe they are both truly aware of each other, hence the scene where they are viewing each other through the mirror. I think here, softboy Mikoto might be admitting that it feels good to let the shadow alter out, like a hug. The “minus energy” probably refers to the shadow alter.

“Maybe it’s okay that we’re separated like this?” he wonders. There seems to be a sense of feeling alive at least that is conveyed through the shadow alter.

SPLIT IN HALF- yeah, again, pretty encompassing.

In the video, I think this is when we have a switch, as Mikoto’s expression changes in the outside world mirror.

The chorus again, softboy Mikoto is shoved into the vaporwave shadow realm headspace. He’s asking the audience to investigate him here, but I also like to joke that he’s like “uwu look at me I could never harm anybody, pwease let me out”, which may be true only so far as softboy Mikoto is out.

I wonder if in “I will NEVER forgive you if this is happening to me” is directed at the shadow alter instead of the audience? Like softboy Mikoto is saying “I swear to god if you murdered someone im gonna be so pissed, but I also already kinda know it’s happening.” Just another take.

In the video, softboy Mikoto is THROWN into the headspace, where he is gifted with just one hint of what’s going on: The Devil tarot card.

You DARE accuse Miette of murder? Oh! 1000 years jail for Milgram viewer!

Now the vaporwave space starts to turn into a bloody mess; perhaps now softboy Mikoto is starting to put two and two together.

“Hurting it, holding it down, it doesn’t change anything, does it”- I definitely understand this being plural, like if your alters are causing problems, you may try and chastise them, or you may try and lock them away deep inside, but that often doesn’t stop them from existing. It’s really cool how that idea is present here. Like YES that’s how it is quite often. So even if softboy Mikoto TRIES to smother or accuse his shadow alter, that’s not going to change anything.

It being the same anywhere he goes makes me think he’s been putting up with this for a long time, that it’s not about what environment he’s in because his shadow alter is with him everywhere he goes.

“It’s like what’s wrong isn’t wrong”- may be referring to multiple things:

-the shadow alter having a different morality (hence why murder is okay for him, his indulgence in smokes and…redbull/alcohol, etc)

-OR, how softboy Mikoto’s amnesia isn’t letting him understand the full picture so everything is okay when he’s out fronting (shadow alter cleaned the place up and stuff, perhaps hiding all evidence of murder)

-“I’m already the fake one”- a very common sentiment for plural folks, worrying if you as an alter aren’t “the original” or if you’re not actually split and it’s something you’re making up, etc. I think softboy Mikoto is having these feelings. Poor boy, wish we could get you some therapy instead :/ (all of Milgram would be very different if only most of these people could get therapy, let’s be honest)

Now, what’s special here is that BOTH alters are in the headpace, with shadow alter Mikoto looming ominously behind softboy Mikoto.

During this next instrumental, just a side note: we see what’s going on through security footage. The security cameras reflecting a third person perspective is kind of neat in context of pluralism, where someone else fronting can feel like a third person awareness to another alter. I may be thinking too much into this one, but it’s a fun connection.

Another thing many plural folk go through: DISSOCIATION FROM REALITY. Ah yes, my good friend dissociation. Especially like in Mikoto’s case, where the consequences of being split have drastic consequences, he could be running away from the truth which may always be partially concealed to him. Something’s VERY wrong, he knows this for sure, and it may be at this point he really realizes “Oh shit. I just committed murder.” But instead of taking responsibility in any way, he’s trying to imagine that it’s a fabricated reality. I’m not going to say if this makes him bad or not, but it is a known coping mechanism.

I know I mention that the bad habits of smoking and drinking may be the shadow alters habits, but they could also be softboy Mikoto’s own methods of escapism, which definitely fits with the above lyrics. “I need to wake up soon”- but he still realizes that he’s going to have to face the harsh truth of reality soon.

Now this point indicates a marked change in softboy Mikoto and shadow alter Mikoto’s relationship: I believe there may be a time when softboy Mikoto expects to come back out to the front, but now the shadow alter is starting to take over fully and keep softboy Mikoto locked inside. This is supported by the Outcome card in his celtic cross spread being The Devil. Not only does this card have its own meanings, but here it may mean that the more violent side of him takes over.

Again, don’t know if he’s talking to the audience or his shadow alter in never forgiving this outcome. I believe softboy Mikoto does have a clearer morality in that murder is NOT okay, and if he were to fully acknowledge that he as a whole was capable of that, I think he’d break down. So he’s like “it better NOT be true” because he doesn’t know how he’d be able to deal with that.

Interesting in the video is when Mikoto snaps and the headspace turns red again; I would think this is when the shadow alter is entering the scene and taking over. The snap here is symbolic of the switch.

Now presumably softboy Mikoto is like “PWEASE WET ME OUT MISTEW OBAMA”, which, again with the double meaning, can refer to letting him out of the vaporwave shadow realm headspace OR letting him out of prison. Both apply.

“That it’s a lie

That I’m right”- a nice duality here. Mikoto is having difficulty separating the truth from reality.

Also NOW he is forgiving. Forgiveness vs not forgiveness (grudge)

I think it’s gotten so bad that he’s like “okay fine. Fine if I committed murder, fine if you’re accusing me of murder, but please help me understand what’s going on. Let me out”. Maybe he’ll forgive the shadow alter if only he fesses up to the murder.

Of note for the scene however is that shadow alter Mikoto is holding up The Fool card, which represents softboy Mikoto in this case. “I’m right” may be the shadow alter’s sentiment.

-THE CARDS AT THE END-

Then, all the cards show up in more detail, all depicting weapons instead of the standard minor arcana that you might see in your standard Rider Waite tarot deck (which these are based off of). The Wands are baseball bats, the Swords are kitchen knives, the Cups are…poison cans? Acid? The Pentacles are….records but I can see these being rotary saws if you squint. The Wheel of Fortune has car wheels with a snake….GTA time baby (the snake being hidden danger, the devil’s temptation, etc). The chariot is a really weird motorcycle death machine. I was thinking how like, people would drag people along behind them while driving a vehicle as a method of torture so there is that.

Now we see some cards not in the original spread- I think this represents shadow alter Mikoto inserting himself into the headspace and changing things to fit his goals. We see a couple placed in the original spread, but some don’t and are just free-floating, but you’ll see below we have enough context to decipher their meaning.

First, it’s the Page of Pentacles, which has taken over the position of the 7 of swords as the current challenge affecting the issue. This card indicates “Manifestation, financial opportunity, skill development”. I think this means the shadow alter is finally learning to take full control.

Then we see the reverse 2 of swords, which represents “Indecision, confusion, information overload, stalemate”. This could probably represent softboy Mikoto not suddenly understanding why the shadow alter is ALSO in the headspace. Maybe his dual presence in the outside world AND the headspace is indicative of exactly when he learned to take full control. This was NOT in Mikoto’s original spread.

Wheel of Fortune again, which was in the original spread. “Bad luck, negative external forces, out of control”. Yup, that confirms it.

Next, the Five of Swords from the original spread comes up. “Conflict, tension, loss.png, defeat, win at all costs, betrayal”. Softboy Mikoto is now being completely taken over. There is a facedown card on the chair. This might be the one that reads as Death later, so it may be that softboy Mikoto is…KILLED OFF?

Cup of Ace, “Love, compassion, creativity, overwhelming emotion”. I think this one is also meant to represent softboy Mikoto, but it could be that the shadow alter sees it as an act of mercy to take full control for softboy Mikoto. Maybe he feels his alter can’t handle reality and he’s going to take over full time. Or more likely he just has ulterior motives.

Reverse King of Cups. “emotional manipulation, moodiness, volatility”. Softboy Mikoto was lead along, thinking it was okay to leave things to the shadow alter or to exist alongside him. Now we see that isn’t a viable solution.

Reverse Five of Wands. “conflict avoidance, diversity, agreeing to disagree”. I went over this more in the other post.

Chariot is the last one, WHICH ALSO WAS NOT IN THE ORIGINAL SPREAD. “Control, willpower, success, action, determination”. The shadow alter Mikoto has taken full control. Which is very quickly followed by…

Shadow alter Mikoto drawing Death. Also not in the original spread. Perhaps effectively “killing off” softboy Mikoto and betraying him.

Concluding Thoughts.

Now, I understand I do take most of these lyrics from softboy Mikoto’s perspective, but I’m sure there’s a layer of deception added on by his shadow alter. The Challenge card of the 7 of swords did represent betrayal. So softboy Mikoto’s only context into what’s going on outside may be his headspace tarot reading. If you want to question some of the lyrics, or even think one of the alters is lying, that would add SO much to the complexity of the situation, and I wouldn’t put it past the Milgram team to add something like that.

Common Themes/Symbols:

The mirror, both in the headspace and in the outside world bathroom

The Hanged Man- in a painting in the headspace and on Mikoto’s shirt. Indicative of being wrongly accused or martyred. Softboy Mikoto is likely represented with this, as well as The Fool. The Fool painting probably is there to show that he doesn’t know any better, that he is without the knowledge of what his shadow alter is doing (or doesn’t believe he’s doing anything wrong)

The Half Moon- a light side and a dark side. Pretty self-explanatory. Symbolically, it can also represent life and death. NICE.

Sorry if the conclusions end up being kind of vague. That’s the way a lot of this video is; what’s really going on, as it usually is, is up to viewer interpretation at this stage. I was just hoping to provide a bit of context into the images in the video, plural life, and narrator interpretation. I just really love this video and after this full analysis hope others can at least appreciate the work that went into it.

#milgram #MeMe (milgram)#mikoto kayano #kayano mikoto

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ghosthan · 3 years

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hello!! i saw that you made a lot of stuff for 1872 and i was wondering if 1872 tony is similar to regular comics tony?? i know mcu and comics tony are different and i want to get into 616, but if 1872 comics are more easy to read i might try those first! 😅

Hello, hello!

Thank you for asking, and sorry it took me so long to get back to you! I wanted to think about it and put together a thoughtful response because I am desperately trying to convert MCU fans to 1872. Or comics fans who just haven’t gotten into 1872.

This post will contain some 1872 spoilers, but not the Big Spoiler that you probably already know about anyways.

Anyways, let’s get into it. Yeehaw.

What is 1872? It’s Steve/Tony in the wild west.

1872 comics are very easy to read, very short, and you need absolutely no prior knowledge to get into them; I highly recommend these as a start point for MCU fans who are curious about dipping their toes into some of the other Steve/Tony universes. And 1872 is, indeed, a Steve/Tony universe. It’s really gay, (and dramatic.) Uh. So gay, in fact, that one of the comic artists who drew pages even occasionally shares Steve/Tony shipping memes. So.

Marvel 1872 is a four issue series released as a part of the Secret Wars event; you really do not need to know anything about this to enjoy 1872, because it is a self-contained alternate universe in a “pocket dimension”, meaning it’s totally separate from the 616 cannon but technically exists in the expanse of the multiverse!

Here’s the summary:

In the Battleworld zone of 1872, Sheriff Steve Rogers faces corruption and fear in the boom town of Timely. Can Anthony Stark pull Rogers' fat from the fire? Probably not, since the only thing he seems capable of pulling is a cork from a bottle. Things in Timely are bad, and getting worse — and when a stranger arrives in town, Timely will be changed forever.

Now, to compare “regular comics Tony”, or 616 Tony, with 1872 Tony.

The main difference? 616 Tony wears this sexy little under suit (or nothing) under his armor, like this:

And 1872 Tony wears dirty, stinky one-piece pajamas under his armor (not sexy):

He’s so gross, he’s a mess. I love him. You’ll love him, too.

No, okay. Being serious.

616!Tony’s backstory is a lot more complicated just due to how long the character has existed, and the decades of cannon (much of it self-contradictory at points.) Like MCU Tony, 616 Tony used to manufacture weapons, experiences something life-changing, and becomes who he is as a result of this as a catalyst. 616 Tony’s backstory has been rebooted a few times, and I’m definitely not the definitive source on Iron Man lore compared to people who have read all of his comics, but I’ll try to touch on the basics.

Originally, 616 Tony Stark is shaped by his experience in the Vietnam War. This is later rebooted and changed to war in the middle East (we see this in the MCU when Tony is held captive in Afghanistan.) In both circumstances, he is taken captive after being in the air for war technology, and then he creates the suit to save his own life (losing a beloved mentor in the process, the guilt of which stays with him after.)

Tales of Suspense #39

In 1872, Tony’s formative event is the Civil War in some ways, but in other ways, this is only half of it, because this is not the event which causes him to build armor or set him onto his “become a better person” trajectory, like in the other comics. Mainly, the Civil War functions to cause Tony to stop weapons manufacturing and throw his life away down a bottle.

We get a flashback of Tony in the year 1862 with his female companion, picnicking and about to watch a battle, (rich people from the North did this in real life. If you’re interested, read more here!) We don’t get much of his past, but we discover that he is a rifle manufacturer and that he has created something called the ‘Stark Repeating Rifle’, and it seems that he has done so with the hope of encouraging a cease-fire, more than a slaughter.

Well. We don’t always get what we ask for.

Tony vows to actually never touch a weapon ever again, and this personal oath means so much to him that he gets creative at times during 1872 when he’s being chased by baddies:

Witnessing the extreme bloodshed of the Civil War, and feeling responsible for a huge amount of deaths, Tony turns to drinking, (and presumably moves to the west to escape the Pain of his Past, but this is not shown explicitly on panel; I have assumed, though, that Tony’s weapons manufacturing company was in the East, probably Boston or New York, since he comes from family money and because the American West was still “young” at this point in time so it would be unlikely that an established business would be supplying a war from lawless territory with little infrastructure.)

In 616, it’s worth noting that Tony builds the armor to save himself from danger in a war scenario; this is not the case in 1872, things unfold a bit differently. The Civil War certainly sets in motion the chain of events that eventually lead to the creation of Tony’s armor, but he’s not in physical danger or physically traumatized by the war in this verse as he is in other verses, and 616 Tony seems to have a stronger sense of duty than 1872 Tony, but this might be a complication of the depression/apathy related to the alcoholism.

What I mean by this is that both iterations of Tony struggle with alcoholism, but differently. Mainly, while 616 Tony has several alcohol themed arcs, and hits rock bottom with his alcoholism to cope with his trauma, he is sober more than he is drunk in the comics. His drinking almost kills him, and he almost loses everything because of the drink. It’s a source of enormous shame for him.

In fact, during this time in 616, I think Tony at his lowest reminds me a lot of 1872 Tony; 616 Tony is not an apathetic person and he holds himself accountable for an obscene amount of responsibility, but during what is referred to in fandom as The Second Drinking Arc, Tony basically gives up. This is the most “like” 1872 Tony, at least at the start of his arc. Rhodey takes over the mantle of Iron Man, and 616 Tony spirals, not caring whether he lives or dies, not hero-ing certainly.

We see both versions of Tony express similar sentiments, a certain cavalier attitude about their lives (and outright suicidality at other points) with nothing left but the drink.

Iron Man Vol. 1 #182

Compare with:

And you can certainly see a resemblance between this set of panels from IM v.1 #176 and in 1872:

Iron Man Vol. 1 #176 and Marvel 1872 #1

It’s a little different in 1872, where his drinking really is purely a result of his existing despair, and it doesn’t cause enormous problems for him, (minor problems, sure. He spends a lot of time drunkenly singing to Sheriff Rogers, or bothering him from the inside of a jail cell.) But this Tony lives at rock bottom, whereas 616 Tony only stays at rock bottom long enough to get his life back together (as many times as it takes.)

This Tony really doesn’t show any outward shame about his drinking; presumably, the people he knows in Timely have only ever known Tony as a drunk, and none of the people from his old life are here to see him like this.

This is a Tony who has essentially given up on himself and has moved out West to hide from his shame and his past; this is not a Tony who is scared of letting down his friends by drinking, or scared of shirking his “duty”, because this Tony has moved away from all of his friends and has given himself no duties. He’s a bit more apathetic, but I would argue that this is not because he inherently is a less moral version of Tony, but because in this verse, he was drinking for a very long time and circumstances unfolded differently so it took him a longer time to find that sense of purpose and responsibility (beyond just shutting down manufacturing guns,) which is awakened in him by Steve Rogers.

616 Tony’s sobriety is a major part of his character, and a conscious choice that he makes, even during some lowest points:

Civil War: The Confession

He takes some amount of pride in his sobriety, and when he does fall off the wagon at times (or magic makes everyone think he did,) it absolutely tears him up because 616 Tony cares very, very much about his sobriety and does not like who he is when he’s drinking. We do not know if 1872 Tony’s father had been a drunk or not, but we know 616 Tony’s father was, and that the drink lead to him treating Tony abusively.

Iron Man Vol. 1 #285

Avengers Disassembled #1 (This was when ~magic~ made Tony drunk and it wrecked him breaking sobriety without ever having actually drank. Oof.)

616 Tony’s long struggle with alcoholism is a major part of his character and he has had relapses over the years and throughout the reboots, but in general, he does not drink.

1872 Tony starts drinking in 1862 and doesn’t stop until the last pages of the story, so in terms of the cannon we have for him, he is a current drunk, rather than a former drunk. This isn’t to say he doesn’t stop; but since it’s in the last page or so, it sets the reader up to imagine his sober future, rather than exploring his sobriety as 616 does. (Calling all fanfic writers!)

Anyways, both Tony’s are excellent. Both are damaged and traumatized, both are Iron Man in their own ways, both (eventually) find sobriety, both have some cute, quippy dialogue (though 616 Tony tends to be more reserved/polite for sure, in general).

The last thing I’ll point out, is that both Tonys’ narratives are intertwined with and influenced by their respective Steve Rogers. I’m not saying soulmates but I’m saying soulmates.

Anyways. Sorry this post got super long, and I apologize if any of it is confusing or redundant, I am not functioning at my highest capacity currently. Please read 1872. Let it rock your world. Create & consume the fanworks, I would love to see a boom of 1872 content (more than the fics and art I keep making!) And my ask-box is always open!

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achliegh · 3 years

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Golden

FEEL FREE TO SEND ME ASKS ABOUT HOW YOU LIKED THAT CHAPTER

OR IF YOU DIDN'T LIKE IT PLEASE TELL ME WHY

THANK :)

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Beta: @the-most-slyterin-hufflepuff & @punkkkboi

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death/suicide, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Chapter 13:

Anchors Away

Clay was bored, wandering around the mall with nothing to do. Thomas was at practice, Noelle was at work at the aquarium. He was alone again and he really didn’t like it. Leo was busy cleaning the apartment for his mom who is showing up later tonight and Reg was hanging out at the rink.

Clay thought about going to the rink but everytime he goes for longer than 20 minutes he gets a head cold. He was walking past a recently closed store and heard faint music coming from inside. He walked in and noticed a small table set up with two men who were jokingly singing along to the song.

Clay took note of all the posters around the small store.

‘Feeling like you need a purpose in life?’ Yeah, he does. Everyone around him is doing actual things with their lives. Reg has started going to art school for errotic photography and portraits. Leo has been selling horses over video calls with rich clients and helping his mother set up times for the clients to go down and visit the horses at the ranch. Obviously, the hockey boys are playing hockey. Noelle is a year away from graduating and was recently promoted, and Clay just kind of existed…

Leo jokingly called him a houseboy when he mentioned how he just stays at home and cleans, now that's all he is ever called by Leo and Reg and it really makes Clay feel worthless. He knows they don’t mean anything by it but…. It still stings.

He moves on to the next poster. “Want financial benefits, healthcare, and more?”

That would be nice, to make his own money for once instead of his parents randomly filling his account with too much money. Something he knows he shouldn’t complain about but he wants to make a name for himself.

‘Join the U.S Navy.’ He paused, he doesn’t know a lot about his birth family, but he does know they were in the military. He has no clue which branch and he knows if he asked his parents they would help him in a heartbeat. But maybe this was a way to find out on his own.

He left the mall feeling lighter, a pep in his step.

He just enlisted in the navy. He was going to make something of himself and maybe even feel like he isn’t just watching his friends and partners pass him by.

Then it hit him, the one thing Leo and him promised each other they would never do is join the military. Because they both know how it fucks people up. Leo lost his uncle, and Clay’s dad lost his own father to PTSD from not having proper care after. Maybe he just screwed up…. But there was no going back now. He wouldn’t.

Walking in the house, Noelle was looking beautiful. She was wearing a pair of sweats rolled up twice at the waist and one of Clay’s old ratty t-shirts. Her curly hair was in her normal ponytail and she was putting on her sneakers. She looked tired from work.

Earlier in the week when Clay and Leo announced Eloise was coming to visit for a few days Noelle started stressing immediately. She has always worried about meeting parents because they always seem to dislike her when they first lay eyes on her, she blames it on her chronic RBF. Clay reassured her that Eloise would love her and actually already loves her from all the stories Clay has told her on her weekly calls.

Eloise was coming tonight, fuck! It was his birthday today and he forgot to mention it! Oops...

Thomas was sitting next to her, freshly showered in his own sweats and t-shirt looking relaxed, he was wearing some socks with little hamsters on them that Clay found for him a while ago. It made his heart jump and he felt his face stretch into a smile. He was scrolling through his phone and Thomas’ whole face opened up in a bright smile as soon as he saw Clay. He made Clay feel so special in a specific way, a way that is so different from how Noelle does and he loves them both.

He needs to tell them that.

“I have something to tell you guys… honestly, I don’t know how you will react but what's done is done.” He puts his hands in his jean pockets and taps the hell of his boots to the toe of his other boot. He was fidgeting and knew the other two noticed. It made him even more nervous.

“That doesn’t sound like good news.” Thomas looks at him a bit worried. His smile was still there but it fell slightly and Clay just wanted to fix it. He noticed Noelle had paused stomping on her shoes, oddly similar to Logan, it made him want to stop what he was going to say but… communication is important!

“Well, I first need you guys to promise me something, then I will make Finn and Logan promise the same thing when we see them because I know I will have to tell them.” He has to tell them, so they are ready for Leo just, not being okay.

And it was all gonna be Clay’s fault.

“What's the promise?” Noelle finishes putting on her shoe and looks up at him. She is trying her best to keep her face neutral but he could tell the wheels were turning in her brain.

“Do not tell Leo, I need to be the one to tell him… and I know he isn’t going to react well. Same goes for Reg but I will probably tell him a lot sooner than Leo.” He keeps on switching his feet that he is tapping and finally looks at them.

It’s now or never.

“I enlisted in the navy today.”

“Okay, Reg and I are going to pick up Ma and then we will be right back!” Leo has been all smiles all day. Finn knew he was close to his mom but this is just adorable.

“Drive safe!” Leo and Reg wave as they leave the apartment and as soon as the door closes Clay is standing in front of Finn and Logan who are snuggled together on the couch. Logan was wrapped up in Leo’s favorite blanket that his grandpa made for him before he passed away. It was a woven blanket with an image of Peanut on it. That blanket has seen Leo and Clay in their worst moments.

He was surprised Logan wasn’t scared of it given his fear of horses.

“Alright you two, I need to tell you something and it needs to be kept secret from Leo and Reg, if you so much as tell them a peep I will never forgive you. That will make family reunions super awkward.” Finn looks up from his phone where he and Logan were reading the comments on their latest tiktok on their joined account.

“Don’t look at me.” Finn raises his hand on surrender and looks at Logan who rolls his eyes annoyed and snatches Finn’s phone away to keep reading the comments.

“I enlisted in the navy-” Clay didn’t even get the full sentence out before Logan had thrown the phone down on the cushion next to him and Finn covered his mouth with his hand looking shocked.

“YOU DID WHAT?”

“Mama!” Leo hugs Eloise tightly as she drops her bags to hug him back. “How was the flight?” He squeezes her tightly before noticing her new hearing aid is flashing is three blinks then a pause and three more blinks. “I think your hearing aid is dying. Make sure to charge them when we get home.” She either ignores him or doesn’t hear him even though she can normally hear him this close.

“Rick was a great pilot as always, even let me bring y’all some moonshine he made. It's watermelon and raspberry!.” Eloise pulls away after one last squeeze and sees Reg and her smile widens. “Reg! I’m so happy you’re here!” She waits for him to open his arms as an invitation to hug him so she knows he is comfortable with her touching him and she does as soon as he opens his arms. Tighter than she did Leo. “Have you been eating well? How about sleeping? Did you ever enroll in college?”

“Yes, yes and yes.” Reg can’t help but laugh when she picks him up still hugging him and sways him around. He isn’t used to this much affection from a mother figure but… they love it.

“I’m so proud of you for following your dream.” She pulls away and smiles at him with a sincere smile and brushes his hair back. “Your hair looks nice by the way.”

“Thank you.” Reg and Leo help her with her bags and pack them into the truck and drive the short way back to the apartment. Talking about everything and anything. The door man sends a wink Eloise’s way and she holds up her left hand where her wedding ring is. Letting him know she is taken. Walking up to the apartment they smell an odd smell through the door and everyone shares a look.

“I promise it doesn't normally smell this way unless… oh no.”

“What does that mean!?” She leans over to Reg to whisper as Leo fiddles with his key in the lock.

“It means Finn and Logan tried to cook something.” Reg whispers to Eloise as Leo opens the door, Clay was the first to greet them, smiling his million dollar smile he hugs Elosie so tight it surprises her.

“Hello Bluebell! I was surprised I didn’t see you at the airport. How are you doing sweetheart! Twenty years old today! You’re all growing up so fast.” She kisses his forehead and they pull apart. “You look good. Your mother wants you to call her later tonight so she can sing happy birthday.”

“It's your birthday!” Noelle pipes up and looks at Clay offended. “And you didn’t tell us!” He cringes before turning to her.

“Oh, I guess I forgot.” He walks over to her and kisses her cheek while Eloise puts her hand on her chest from just how cute they are.

“Seems like that should have been the first thing you told us this morning instead of, ‘ I feel like a jellyfish’.” Thomas laughs a little and kisses both Noelle and Clay’s cheeks. “So cute.”

“It slipped my mind!”

“Okay, what is that smell?” Leo leads Eloise towards the kitchen after she is done fawning over how cute those three are. Finn and Logan are suspiciously standing in the way of the countertop right next to the stove. “What are you hiding?”

Finn turns bright red and Logan looks anywhere but Leo. Eloise sets her purse on the counter and walks over to them, giving them both kisses on the cheek.

“What did you make us?”

“Well… we tried to make a cake from your cookbook-”

“It didn’t go very well.” They both move to the side to reveal a lopsided cake with some diluted frosting dripping off and random coconut flakes floating around on it. “Can you at least tell what it is?” Logan casually turned the plate so the ‘good side’ was facing Leo and Eloise.

“Umm… not really. Do you mind just telling us?” Eliose was examining the cake, trying to figure out what cinnamon cake she had in her cookbook. None that she can remember.

“Something called,” Finn walks over to the book and notices Clay and Reg standing to the side with their phones up and probably recording. “Divinity Cake.” The room was suddenly really still and quiet. Eloise looked like she was about to cry and Leo was just staring at the cake in shock.

Then Eloise brokedown in laughter, to the point where she was laughing so hard she was on the ground holding her stomach and crying. Finn and Logan were visibly confused and looked to Leo for an explanation, only to find him trying to conceal his laughter in the crooks of his arm.

“Oh my god! What is so funny?” Logan looks at the cookbook and then back at the cake. It looked terrible but they tried their best! They didn’t burn the house down at least.

“Oh my lovely lovely boys.” Leo wraps an arm around both their shoulders and pulls them in close so they are all cheek to cheek for a moment. “Divinity cake is usually cooked for your in-laws in the south.. To prove you are worthy of being a good wife.” explains through his laughing breaks. “This is amazing.”

Eloise eventually stands up and dabs her eyes so she doesn’t smear her makeup. Pulling the two embarrassed boys into a tight hug. “Y’all are so sweet. Thank you for the cake.” She gives them both sloppy kisses on the cheeks and then pats where she just kissed. “Alright I’m going to put my things in the guest room and then we can cook something up for y’all to eat.” She smiles and takes most of her bags to the guest room but forgets her purse. “Finn, would you be a dear and grab my purse for me?” She calls out and Finn being the sweetheart he is, grabs the bag and tries to take it with him as he walks past.

The bag won’t budge, Leo is watching with a smile on his face and his arms crossed. Finn tugs at the bag again and eventually gets it off the counter, it nearly knocks him over with how heavy it is. He scurried to Eloise’s room and gave it to her. She holds it like it’s nothing.

He makes his way back over to Leo and sinks into his chest, his face buried in his neck. Logan is still poking the cake, showing off just how gelatinous it is. Clay and Reg are comparing videos that they took and laughing at how they zoomed in on different faces. Sending them to each other.

“I’m sorry we messed up the cake.” Finn looks up at Leo and sees the sweetest little smile, showing his dimples off. Finn has noticed Leo’s tan from the summer is fading and it is making the small scar across his nose more prominent. It was cute.

“Honestly, it’s better than anything else y’all have made. Plus, now Mama can teach you how to make it the right way for the next time she visits.” Leo kisses his eyebrow and wraps his arms around him as Finn pouts even more. Logan eventually makes his way over and rests his head on Leo’s shoulder.

“Maybe it still tastes good?” He closes his eyes and rubs his cheek on Leo’s soft shirt and tough shoulder, massaging his jaw muscles. His arms are crossed.

“We can try it afte Mama and I make some food, how about y’all pick out what you want so she can put on her mini cooking show.” Leo feels the boys lean off of him and smiles as he watches them pour over each page of the book looking for a meal they want.

“Alright, I’m ready to cook.” Eloise comes back into the room and gathers everyone so they are sitting on the other side of the counter, unless they are Reg or Leo because they are allowed to help cook. Finn and Noelle have taken the two seats while Clay and Thomas are on either side of them watching and Logan is in between them.

They all watch as Eloise explains what she is doing in hopes it helps them understand and make them want to try and make this on their own. Logan gets in trouble for focusing on Leo instead of what she is teaching and she gives him a smirk.

“You remind me a lot of Wyatt, you know that? Around the same height too.” She smiles as she fiddles with her ring after she washed her hands to get the rest of the flour off her hands. Leo is watching the food in the oven as he leans against the counter and nods in agreement with her.

“I do?” Logan looks at her a little confused, he sadly never got the chance to meet Wyatt but he always pictured him as more of the strong and silent type who was also tall, giving Leo his extra few inches of height.

“He was 5’10 and the sweetest man I have ever met, he was goofy and carefree like Finn and always had this hard look in his eyes like you do. Unless he was looking at Leo or I, or in your case Leo. Please don’t look at me like that.” Leo snorts and smiles.

“That would be kinda weird.” He turns his head over his shoulder and smiles at his boys. “Why don’t we tell them some stories about dad? I never really talk about him because… well, it still hurts.” Eloise smiles a little sad at her son and gives his arm a comforting squeeze. Her love language.

“Well, he was in the air force.” She notices Clay looking away, Noelle suddenly looks uncomfortable and Thomas looks a little sad. Something was off. “He and his twin brother Wess joined at the same time, and flew fighter jets together. His brother was shot down and Wyatt made Leo promise to never join. After he came back he vowed to never leave again. He kept his promise.” She smiles at the image of him coming home still fresh in her mind. “He was in love with music, sometimes I think he loved music more than us. He tried to get Leo to learn how to play instruments but the poor boy is so tone deaf he couldn’t figure anything out.” She laughs a little as Leo smiles. “I remember when Leo was being taught the guitar Wyatt would be thrown into laughing fits when Leo would play the wrong chords and smile up at him like he just did something.”

“I thought I did!” Leo laughs a little and turns around to face everyone else. “Look It took me forever to learn rhythm, and now I can dance like there is no tomorrow… still can’t sing though.”

“Ahmen!” Clay pipes up and ducks as Leo throws a spoon at him.

“Shut up!”

“Wyatt did manage to teach Clay how to play fiddle somehow, do you still play?” Eloise checks the food in the oven and determines it's not done.

“I haven’t played since… yeah I haven’t played in a while.”

“He was so proud of you. Wyatt was also a sportsman. He loved sports, especially baseball. So when Leo came home and told Wyatt he joined the team, they went out back and played catch for, I don’t know, hours.”

“My arm was sore the next day.”

“He came to every single game of Leo’s besides one, and was his biggest fan. He made shirts with Leo’s player picture on them and wore them to every game. No matter how many times Leo begged him not to!” The timer goes off and Reg gets the food out of the oven.

“Is this done?” He asks, Eloise comes over to check and nods.

“Looks good! How about we eat?” She smiles and has everyone line up so she can dish it out for them.

Thomas and Noelle are getting ready to leave when Eloise asks Clay to join her outside. He gives them a worried look but follows her. Outside is cold, and there is a bit of snow on the railing of the balcony.

“Talk to me Clayton, something is wrong, I noticed it earlier.” She looks at him and taps her foot as he pulls out a cigarette and lights it. “Clayton.”

“I joined the navy, and I haven’t told Leo, and I ask that you don’t tell him either because he needs to hear this from me.” He is looking out at the traffic below so he doesn’t have to watch her face. He knows she is upset with him.

“Is that what you really want to do?” She walks up next to him and joins him in looking at the traffic. Clay has always admired how strong Eloise is, she has been through a hell of a lot and still has this calm and stable energy.

“Yes.”

“Then you made the right choice.” She turns and looks at him, smiling in a way that he knows is trying to hide her sadness. She ruffles his hair as he finishes his cig and puts it out on the bottom of his boot. “Have you told Noelle and Thomas?”

“Yeah.” He knows his short answers sound hostile but he wants to be away from this conversation.

“They support you?” She always makes sure he has support, it hurts sometimes. Like he can’t just get support himself and he always needs help.

“Yes.” She nods and walks back towards the door.

“Then you better spend as much time with them as you can.” She goes inside, leaving Clay to think about everything by himself.

It was dangerous.

He walks back inside and they leave. Noelle turns around from the passenger seat and smirks at Clay. He was in for a fun night.

“I’m off to bed boys, we have a busy day tomorrow!” Elosie kisses her boy's cheeks and walks to her room.

“I like you mom.” Logan says as he tackles Leo to the ground straddling his back with his scented markets in hand. He tugs at Leo’s shirt, he complies and takes it off. Logan has been dying to do this all day.

“I hope not too much!” Leo crosses his arms under his head until Finn sits down next to him and he pulls his thigh so it's underneath Leo’s head. Leo shivers as the cold marker hits his skin and Logan begins coloring.

“What other stories do you have about Wyatt?” Finn rubs his fingers over Leo’s short hair that has really grown out over the past month, it was starting to curl at the ends making Leo look sweet.

“He used to read to me when I was little, then when I was able to read I would read to him until he fell asleep and started snoring.” Leo smiles and Finn can feel it on his leg. “He was also my coach for little league baseball for a bit and he was great but not everyone liked that he was my dad. Other parents thought I was getting special treatment. Also he would argue with the umpires and get in trouble!” Leo bursts out laughing and Logan gorans.

“Leoooooooooo! Be still!” Leo calms down and lets Logan keep coloring the flowers of his back piece.

“Sorry sorry, I just remembered when he got kicked out of a game because an umpire called Clay out when he was safe. It was hilarious. He called the umpire a muppet.” Smiling Leo yawns and blinks a few times.

“You can fall asleep, we will wake you up and go to bed when Logan finishes.” Finn is scrolling on his phone and is petting Leo’s head as he feels it get heavier with sleep. Finn looks up at Logan after making sure Leo is asleep.

“We need to tell him we love him.”

“Yeah, we do.” They smile at each other and share a peck before going back to what they were doing.

The next morning Finn and Logan wake up with a Leo sized dent in the bed and not Leo. They wander out to the kitchen and get smacked in the face with the smell of blueberry pancakes. They float into the kitchen and smile at the sight. Eloise has her hair in curlers and is in a thick grey robe and Leo’s sweatpants because she doesn’t own a pair. Her face is free of makeup and it shows how well she has taken care of her skin over the years. She is flipping a couple of pancakes while Leo sips on some apple juice. Just chatting away about the plan for today.

“Okay so after family skate is the party at Pascal and Celeste’s.”

“I won’t be at family skate dear, I have some work to do today.” She puts the last pancake on a plate, making sure that each plate has two, she takes two plates over to the table while Leo carries the other two.

“Ma, you promised me you wouldn’t work while you were here.” He sighs and sets the plates down. He sighs and sits down, not noticing the other two people in the room, he starts poking at his pancakes with his cheek on his hand and elbow on the table. Sulking.

“I know sweetheart but these people are someone who your Daddy tried to sell to for years. They plan to get two mares and then I will be at the party. On time. I promise.” She puts the dishes from cooking in the sink and fills the pancake batter bowl with hot water before grabbing her cup of coffee and walking over to sit next to Leo.

Logan and Finn share a look. They shouldn’t be listening to this.

“Okay but, just please be there towards the beginning of the party. I want to introduce you to my-... the team.” Leo furrows his brow not understanding why he about called the lions his team, when he doesn’t even play hockey.

“I will try my best, Merigold.” She pats his hand and Logan and Finn make their entrance, yawning and stretching as they walk over to the table. “Morning boys.”

“Morning!” Finn smacks a kiss on Leo’s temple as he walks past and Logan does the same, taking their seats and chowing down.

Later that day Eloise was putting her hair in a ponytail as she checked to make sure there were no creases in her uniform. Well, it's not a uniform but what she likes her and Leo to wear when they go to sell.

A black tall-neck turtle neck with long sleeves and tight to the body. Some khaki colored riding pants with tall back socks and brown riding boots. Professional yet comfortable. She was selling to the Malfoy family today, the father is buying these mares for his sons wedding coming up. She is still convinced that they only want their mares because Wyatt is gone, making Knut horses more desirable.

They were in contact with Wyatt for years and were not very nice. She knows she needs to make this sale though. Walking out to the living room to grab her purse she sees Leo moping on the couch by himself. She sighs out of her nose, walking over to him and petting the top of his head.

“I promise I will be there tonight, with moonshine.” She smiles as Leo rolls his eyes.

“I trust you.” Then he stood and gave her good luck and a hug before walking back to his bedroom… not the master bedroom. She takes a deep breath and leaves the apartment.

The rink was cold, Leo was bundled up in his new coat, hat and gloves while rocking his normal jeans and boots. His brand new skates were in hand, not broken in so he was wearing two pairs of tall socks just to help against blisters. Clay actually owned a pair of skates and has been skating since he was younger because he has family in Montana that he would visit for the holidays.

Jerk.

Leo was sitting in Finn's stall just trying to stay warm while he watched Noelle tie one of Clay’s skates and Thomas tie the other. Leo had to admit, he was so happy for Clay, seeing him with that sappy smile makes Leo know that he’s okay. He never smiled like that with Ashley.

Logan walks over to him, completely ready to skate and looking good. He was wearing his favorite well worn sweats and Leo’s new thrifted sweater that was dark green, showing off his eyes. He was wearing his normal cap backwards and Leo has always found it funny that Logan will never wear a hat forwards.

“Ready to get laced up?” Leo nods and holds out a skate to Logan. “You’re very quiet right now, are you that cold?” Leo just narrows his eyes and gives a short nod. Logan shows him how to lace up and once his other skate is on he stands up and nearly falls over.

“This is going to be terrible… is there a dentist nearby? I have a tendency to fall teeth first into the ground.” Licking over his chipped tooth absentmindedly he looks around. There were kids running around in skates and jumping into other players arms. He smiles a bit and rests his elbow on Logan’s head who is wear much more worn down skates so Leo is a fucking giant to him. “You’re the perfect height.”

“Yeah yeah, lets watch you try and walk. Then we can find Finn who I’m guessing is talking to Syd.” Logan helps Leo take a few steps knowing Leo has no balance at all. In skates or not. He has witnessed this name trip over nothing.

“Whose Syd?” Leo starts walking on his own and feels like this isn’t so bad.

“My oldest sister. Aubry is here too. They also play professional hockey. So… don’t get on their bad sides.” Leo stops walking.

“You never mentioned your sisters will be here! I thought I was meeting them when we go to visit your parents in a week! Oh boy… Do they know about you and Finn?” Leo continues walking after Logan grabs his hand and leads him out of the tunnel.

“Yes they know about me and Finn, I told my family first because… well my parents love him and my sisters all had a bet so… yeah. But they don’t know about you because I didn’t know if you were ready for that.” Leo stops him before they completely exit the tunnel and presses him up against the wall, kissing him softly.

“Thank you.” Leo smiles when Logan does and they pull apart to see they are the last out of the tunnel. Walking out Leo stops in front of the ice. “Yo, I don’t know if I have enough ego to let me fall face first onto the ice in front of a whole hockey team yet.”

“What, you aren’t up for the challenge?” Clay skates right up to him, not as seamless as everyone else but still pretty well. He has this challenging look in his eyes and Leo knows exactly what is going to happen. “I knew you weren’t good at everything.” Leo launches himself at LCay who skates out of the way just in time for Leo to miss and barely holds himself up as he glides across the ice.

“Clay! When I get my hands on you, I swear!” Then he falls flat on his ass and gorans laying down, staring at the ceiling annoyed. This sucks.

Clay is having an absolute field day, Laughing his ass off as he skates up to Leo and helps him stand. Patting his back for a moment and letting Leo get his balance he then pushes him over and skates away.

“CLAYTON!” Leo falls basically into a middle split and it distracts Finn from his conversation with Logan and his sisters, hitting Logan’s chest until he looks over at Leo who is still being taunted by Clay and now Reg.

“I didn’t know he could do that.” They share a look and both seem to get ideas around the same time because their faces get all reg and they high five.

“Who is that?” Sydney is readjusting her hat as she looks at Leo. “He’s a cutie, I wouldn’t mind getting a piece of that.”

“Agreed. He is really handsome.” Aubry nods in agreement and Logan is suddenly possessive. He glares at them.

“Back off, he’s mine!” He crosses his arms and turns his attention back to Leo who is now talking to Katie who has made herself at home on his leg. Leo looks like he is trying his best not to shake from how cold he is.

“You have Finn, let us have our fun.” Aubrey hits his shoulder and skates over to Leo and Katie. “Need some help?” Katie smiles at her. Leo looks up at her and gives a shy smile because he is embarrassed. Nodding she holds out her hand, Katie grabs his other hand and helps him up. With Katie on one side and Aubry on the other, Leo starts more skating and less falling over.

“Awww they are so cuteeeee.” Sydney smiles at them and hears Logan grumble, looking at them annoyed and Finn is still snorting everytime Leo stumbles. But Finn has this look in his eyes that Sydney has only ever seen him give Logan. She hopes there isn’t anything shady going on between those three.

Eventually, Aubry and Leo stake back over to Finn, Logan and Sydeny who are all still chatting on the ice and sipping their hot chocolate that Celeste brought.

“Can I have a sip?” Logan holds up his cup over his shoulder to Leo’s lips, because Leo is behind him, and holds it as he takes a sip. “Mm, so yummy. I’ve never really had this before. Hot chocolate?” Leo doesn’t really drink warm drinks at all, even the coffee is normally cooled down to where it isn’t hot, sometimes iced.

“You should have Finn make you some, he is really good at it.” Finn kisses Logan's forehead and smiles.

“It’s like the one thing I learned how to make properly. Alex taught me! He is coming to the party later tonight if you want to meet him.”

“I’d love to meet him! Now, I’ve met Aubry. I’m guessing you are Sydney? Logan talks about you guys sometimes but I don’t know a lot.” Leo smiles at her and reaches his hand out to shake hers.

“You have a southern accent…” Aubry and her share a look.

Logan is definitely not keeping him from them.

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #james potter #thomas walker #Clayton Bruss #o'knutzy #o’knutzy #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast

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reyescarlos · 3 years

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YES!!! 14 “Please don’t tell me you filmed that.” “Of course I filmed it.” for tarlos and maybe a little bit of that yeehaw firefam if you would be so kind thank you i love you

omg the shenanigans! thanks for getting me to branch out and attempt writing the rest of the crew! oh how i love the 126 🤠

#14 “Please don’t tell me you filmed that.” “Of course I filmed it.”

It’s become something of a custom for the 126 to gather outside of work. Where most people would be tired of seeing their co-workers constantly, the station’s team never seems to shy away from any excuse to extend their days. Even after a long shift, just the mere mention of plans gets the crew excited.

Owen affectionately calls it family time, an opportunity for the crew to get together periodically after shifts and try different activities together. TK can’t actually say he minds the opportunity to bond even further with the team. In a lot of ways, in almost no time at all, the 126 has come together and formed quite the family, one that TK is sincerely proud to be a part of.

As an only child, he’d spent a great deal of time on his own, admittedly curious about what it would have been like to have a big brother or sister looking out for him or even what it could be like to be an older brother himself. Life was funny in the way it brought the various members of the crew into his world. Now he knew precisely what it was like to be surrounded by siblings and all the highs and lows that came with that. They could bicker amongst themselves but at the end of the day, there was nothing but love between them all.

Outings like this, bowling on a Friday night after their shift, were moments that TK has quickly come to cherish. It’s made all the more special with tonight’s guest joining in on the fun. TK’s relationship with Carlos is still new, just a month and a half underway but without question the man’s presence is always a welcomed thing at any and all times.

Owen and Michelle head over to the stand to get food and drinks for everyone, the rest of the team piling into their seats. Marjan commandeers the center console, her eyes glossing over the buttons for a moment.

“I’d just like to go on record saying that bowling is not my thing,” Paul announces the second he flops into his seat.

“Josie still hasn’t managed to teach you?” Carlos asks.

Paul smiles and TK can’t help but to do the same. He was all too happy when Josie and Paul amended things, the two of them meeting up and having a serious conversation. It had been a tentative road, one that TK had worried Paul wouldn’t care to repair. He certainly wouldn’t have faulted Paul if he decided not to but TK had easily picked up on the chemistry between them and had been hopeful that one day they’d be able to reconnect.

It’d taken a few weeks for Paul to be open to the idea of putting his heart out there with Josie again and it seemed to be paying off now.

“We, uh, kinda get distracted during lessons,” Paul says with a shrug and a smirk.

“Alright, so you’re definitely not on my team then,” Marjan quips, double checking her laces on her rentals. “How about you, Carlos? Are you any good at bowling?”

“Yeah, I’ve been playing since I was a kid.”

Marjan grins. “Excellent, you’re with me then.”

TK raises a hand in protest. “Wait, wait, wait. You can’t just start stealing all the best players for your team.”

Marjan looks to the left, then the right, then back at him.

“Says who? That’s the whole point of calling dibs,” she says. “It’s not my fault you guys are just slow.”

TK jokingly narrows his eyes at her. “Alright, then we get Judd. We need at least one solid player on our team.”

Her mouth twists to one side in thought. “Fine, I’ll allow it. Judd, I wish your back well. It’s going to take a lot to carry your team.”

“What else is new?” Judd muses.

Paul places a hand over his heart. “Ice cold, Marwani. I knew you were competitive but damn, is it really like that?”

“Oh, that’s precisely how it is.”

Carlos laughs and shakes his head. “Who knew firefighters could be so vicious?”

“Marjan is the worst of all when it comes to games,” Mateo says. “But she’s pretty much undefeated so she’s doing something right.”

TK wishes he could argue the point but Marjan’s competitive nature always gives her an extra edge over the others. Sometimes he gets to bask in the warm glow of victory if they’re paired up. Other times he has to admit defeat.

“Alright, so what are the two teams looking like?” Mateo asks Marjan.

She starts typing in her name first. “So it’s me, you, Carlos, and I think we’ll snag Cap.”

“Pitting me against my father and my boyfriend? A little cruel, don’t you think?”

Marjan laughs. “Clearly I’m out to get you today.”

She continues typing in everyone’s names until all eight are on the board. “Cool, we’re good to go.”

Judd stands up first and gets his ball from the ball return. It’s a weighty all black ball that he sends flying down the lane without much buildup at all.

TK watches it streak down the lane, tipping over eight pins.

“That’s how you knock ‘em down,” he proudly boasts, turning back to the others.

Marjan rolls her eyes but TK can see she’s actually impressed with how well Judd has done right out of the gate. Mateo has his phone out, taking pictures and videos as he always does during their get togethers.

TK sits beside Carlos, placing his head on his shoulder as they all watch Judd set up his next frame. He can feel the press of Carlos’ lips against the crown of his head and he smiles to himself at the move. TK shifts and steals a kiss, a hand resting on Carlos’ chest.

“No fraternizing with the enemy,” Paul grumbles. “Don’t make me get a hose for you two. You know I can make that happen like that,” he says, snapping his fingers for emphasis.

The crew takes turns and before long, Marjan is calling TK up to take his turn. It strikes him how odd his feet feel inside of his rentals. The floor is so much smoother than he was anticipating and he glides a bit as he heads to the ball return.

“You alright there, Happy Feet?” Judd calls out, earning a few laughs from the team.

“I’ve got this,” TK assures, placing his fingers into the holes.

“Famous last words,” Marjan says at the same time as Paul who says, “Dead man walking.”

TK picks up his ball and draws in a breath as he raises in front of him. Bowling is not his forte. The last time he stepped foot in a bowling alley had to have been when he was in high school, if not junior high. He and his friends didn’t know or care to learn the rules and that suited him just fine. This was as simple a concept as any. Even little kids were capable of knocking over pins. Surely he, an adult, could do the same too without incident.

He studies the little arrows on the floor before him all pointing towards the pins as if he needed reminding on which direction to go. TK rolls his eyes at them and lowers his arm, swinging it back. As he goes to release the ball, his wrist locks a bit. His body tugs with the momentum and it dawns on TK that this is not about to end well for him.

The ball slips from his hand clumsily and in his haste to try and maintain control, his left foot slips. It happens in the blink of an eye, the time it takes for the ball to hit the wooden floor and for his butt to do the same.

Marjan’s cackle is the loudest of them all, practically filling every square inch of the bowling alley.

Carlos is beside him quickly, holding out a hand to help him up. TK’s face burns hot with embarrassment, his backside already aching. He looks to where his friends are, Mateo’s phone angled a little too perfectly at him.

There’s only one conclusion to draw from such a sight and TK, as foolish as it is, hopes against hope that he’s wrong.

“Please don’t tell me you filmed that.”

“Of course I filmed it, are you kidding me? I’m totally making this into a boomerang. That was gold,” Mateo laughs, shoving his phone towards the others and tapping the screen.

Judd is wiping away tears from his eyes, Marjan’s cheeks are flushed, and Paul is doubled over in his seat as they watch the video. To his credit, Carlos is doing his best not to join in but his cheekbones are raised so highly on his face, his lips pressed tightly together in a valiant effort to suppress a laugh.

“You too?” TK jokingly reprimands.

“I’m sorry but if you saw it go down like we did…,” he trails off, placing a kiss against TK’s temple.

TK groans and buries his face against the side of Carlos’ neck as he wraps an arm around his waist.

“What’s going on here? We leave you all for five minutes and you guys are falling to pieces,” Owen says, Michelle just a step behind him, their hands filled with packed trays of nachos and drinks.

“I got you, Cap. Look at this,” Mateo says a little too eagerly, surrendering his phone to Owen.

TK groans yet again and Carlos merely pulls him in a little closer as the team watches the two captains view the video. It’s mortifying but the crew relishes in it, watching eagerly. TK can hear the bowling ball thud and a second later himself. The laughter of the crew plays back, only this time with his own father’s laugh and Michelle’s joining the mix in real time.

“Is this online? That’s just what this station needs, another firefighter going viral.”

#tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #marjan marwani #paul strickland #judd ryder #mateo chavez #the 126 #pauline pocket #kimmy writes

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tuanhood · 4 years

Text

delta

pairing: professional frat!jackson wang x reader

genre: lot of fluff, pining from afar, professional frat

warnings: none

word count: 3,700+

summary: when you joined your school’s co-ed professional frat all you had wanted was to get valuable business connections and resources that could help you in your future career. you really didn’t think you would end up with a huge fat crush on mr. popular.

a/n: soooo this one is a little different because I know everyone always writes fics about jackson being the guy who throws the party or the kinda party boy type so I wanted to do something less expected and lil more soft. also this is unedited and lowkey a mess but :) yeehaw a post.

You weren’t sure whether to scream or cry.

All you knew was that you wanted Jackson Wang. Badly.

Most of the girls that tended to crowd around him simply fell at his feet for his ridiculously good looks – which you had to agree was true – but you wanted more than just that. You wanted everything that Jackson was and is. His looks, his sense of humor, his kindness and his brain. You had been addicted to him since you joined Delta Sigma Pi at the beginning of the school year and you had to do something before you overdosed.

It hadn’t been your intentions to fall so head over heels for someone who you had mostly admired from afar and talked to in passing, but you really couldn’t help it. You had become a part of Delta Sigma Pi only for the possible connections it could bring you in your future. If you had wanted to join something more social you would have rushed a sorority like some of the girls in your dorm Freshman year.

In fact, you were pretty against everything the Greek system stood for and advertised, but when you had heard of co-ed professional fraternities that aimed to help students make connections in their chosen profession and encourage advancement, you changed your mind. Instead of an organization that prided itself on binge drinking and toxic behavior, you joined Deltasig – a business fraternity for male and female students that centered on “professional” activities and fundamentals.

Of course, there were still “social” gatherings amongst the conferences, workshops and service activities that filled most of the members’ schedules. The social events were never really your thing – you’d much rather focus on advancing your future then drunk on a dance floor and squished in between two of the brothers you took a startup workshop with. You started to avoid and skip that aspect of Deltasig until you had taken notice of Jackson.

To be completely honest you had noticed Jackson long before you started getting little butterflies in your stomach every time you were in a room with him, but it wasn’t until two months into the school year that things changed.

You had shown up rather early to one of the weekly meetings – finishing class an hour before and not wanting to go all the way back home, then back up to campus. You had settled down at one of the tables and decided to take out your sketchbook to kill some time, not expecting anyone else to show up until at most thirty minutes before the meeting start time. With your hectic schedule this year and a heavy class load, it wasn’t often anymore that you could find time to work on your clothing sketches. It was your dream to have your own fashion label and company – an avenue where you could be creative through designing and also be a ball busting career woman with her own business to run. You hoped joining Deltasig would help you there.

It wasn’t until you had finished the shading of a winter coat that you realized you weren’t alone.

“Nice design.”

The deep voice had startled you – so much so that your pencil had fallen from your grasp and made its way to nearly the other side of the room. “Shit. Sorry about that,” you looked up from the table to be met with probably the brownest eyes you had ever seen. Your minimal encounters with Jackson before hadn’t prepared you for this up-close moment where all you could focus on was every little detail on his perfect face, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Immediately, you positioned your eyes down and back to the sketchbook not wanting to creep him out at how much you apparently now loved staring at him.

“Totally fine,” you mumbled, still not daring to look back at him. You had heard so many girl – not just in Deltasig but all over campus talking about how mesmerizing Jackson Wang was. Legend has it that once you make direct eye contact with him, you’re placed under an unbreakable spell and become his forever. That kind of talk had always made you laugh. How could a human being – just a person has the capabilities to make another human being feel that way? Maybe it was because you had never been into the social partying thing or really ever had time to date due to your focus on designing clothes, but you couldn’t understand it. That was until that day.

More silence had settled between you and Jackson. You figured that by the way you were reacting, he probably thought you were rude. Somehow in your mind you had comprehended that maybe Jackson hating your guys would actually help you. If he didn’t like you then he would ultimately spend less time around you, therefore you would no longer have to feel whatever it was you were feeling as a result to being around him for less than two minutes.

“Let me get your pencil for you,” it was like you couldn’t make use of your body properly. As soon as he said it, you found your head whipping up to look at him go to the spot where your long-forgotten drawing utensil had landed. Your brain had repeatedly said “no look away” as Jackson leaned down to grab it, but your head remained stagnant in its place, eyes fixated on his back and the way his shoulder muscles moved.

Luckily you found yourself snapping out of the Wang induced trance as he stood up and turned back to return the pencil. To you it felt like you were being obvious and acting like a complete lunatic, but to sweet clueless Jackson he thought nothing strange of it.

“Here ya go. Sorry again,” Jackson smiled as he placed the pencil down on the table near the sketchbook, “you’re really good by the way. Is fashion design the reason why you joined?”

As much as you had wanted to respond to him, your mouth felt dry and your stomach churned in anxiety, afraid of saying the wrong thing. Instead, you nodded in response and despite your clear hesitations in conversing with him, Jackson smiled once again, “well that’s awesome. We’re really happy to have you in the frat Y/N.”

That was the last thing he had said to you before heading to his seat to also wait for other members to show up and start the meeting. The fact that Jackson Wang had knew your name made you want to blush and hide under a rock all in the same moment.

Ever since then you tried to push down your feelings for Jackson. You had heard crazy things about him – that he was very much into the small “social” part of Deltasig and even partook in a partying life outside of the org. That life wasn’t necessarily for you and that gave you more reasons to shove your daily fantasies of you and Jackson married with two children and successful companies out of your mind.

Despite all that talk of the kind of life Jackson led, you couldn’t ignore the way he acted at meetings and frat events. The way he would always encourage whoever had the floor to share an idea or concern, the way he would make sure to laugh twice as hard at someone’s joke if no one thought it was funny and especially the way he carried himself during workshops. He went from kind and alluring goofball to professional businessman. You loved a man with duality.

Then you started going to the Deltasig mixers and no longer could you ignore your feelings. It was all downhill from there.

They weren’t the average frat party where hundreds of people would show up and overall chaos would occur. Instead, the parties were more on the scale of just friends getting together to have a good time. Discovering that notion made you feel more open and comfortable in this kind of setting and you told yourself that was the reason you started going. Not because Jackson would always be in attendance.

You tried to be the average partygoer, but every time you would find your eyes drifting over to Jackson who was always in the middle of telling a story, dramatically using his arms to emphasize certain points. The smile he would get on his face when the person he was talking to would nod and laugh along made you feel even more sucked in. You weren’t even apart of the conversation but you felt Jackson’s charisma and just overall goodness in every part of you.

Then at a certain point during the party – every single time – you swear you could sense Jackson looking at you. You never look to see if you’re right and you’re unsure of what scares you more – being wrong or being right.

And now as you stood here, at probably the seventh Deltasig social you had been to, you once again watched the countless other girls in your frat fawn over Jackson. The girls obsessing over him and trying to get his attention wasn’t a new thing, after all this was the seventh time you were experiencing it. Only this time it was getting to you a lot more than before.

It was mostly being caused from the fifth – or was it the sixth? – “special” mixed drink Mark had made you in the kitchen.

“I don’t know I just throw in whatever sounds like it would be good,” he had said.

That had been good enough for you.

“Let me know if you decide to go for the MBA, my dad’s on the board of admissions at Northwestern and could totally help. Anything for that extra edge, right?”

It’s difficult to ignore how loud Hana is trying to sell her connections to Jackson. As if that’s what’s going to make him interested in her. Why would you want to be with a guy if all he liked about you was the fact your dad could write him a cushy letter of recommendation? She’s not the first however, and she’s certainly not the last.

Jackson smiled at her and you can’t help but smile in return from across the backyard. You’ve identified practically every different type of Jackson Wang smile and based off the way his mouth stretches across his face along with his eyes fixated downwards, it’s the “I’m smiling just to be nice” smile. It makes you satisfied.

“I’m good for now, but I’ll definitely let you know if anything changes. Thanks Hana, you’ve always been so helpful.” It amazed you how he could be so genuine with everyone about nearly everything. It certainly didn’t fit the picture of the Jackson who apparently always parties. But what did you know?

Hana smiled once more at Jackson before she cut her losses and headed back into house. You waited to see who the next contestant would be to try their tricks on Jackson. You watched and watched, looking at Jackson and surveying his every move. It wasn’t long before you realized that you had been staring at Jackson for an unfathomable amount of time – a clear sign that the alcohol had hit you. You didn’t drink ever and it felt like the effects of Mark’s special mixed drinks had come all at once.

“Y/N are you okay?”

It felt like you were getting lost in trance after trance, as though you couldn’t focus on one thing entirely. Your thoughts were so scattered you didn’t even notice Jackson’s approach.

“Y/N?”

Since you had started coming to the Deltasig socials you had never directly spoken to Jackson. Sure, during meetings and workshops there would be a word or two that would be exchanged between the two of you, but never a real conversation. Those were also under more professional circumstances and even though this was still a “professional frat” event, it didn’t have the same implications.

Blinking, you snapped out of your daze and looked at Jackson on your side, “y-yeah. I’m fine… just- why does it seem like I’m not okay?” Rather than the teasing tone you wanted to convey; you came off as genuinely concerned for yourself. Which was… good?

He sipped from the red cup he was holding and you feel yourself lose focus once again – this time on his pink heart shaped lips. “You were just kind of staring at me… for like a long time.”

Sober you would be embarrassed, but drunk you smiled at his words. Despite staring – something that was weird – Jackson still made you feel comfortable, like it wasn’t a strange thing to do.

“Oh yeah sorry. I was just enjoying the view,” you almost want to bite your tongue at how candid you are, but you figured that the Jackson that everyone knows and loves would just smile and shrug it off like he always does.

Instead you ended up being surprised, “oh really… and what view is that?”

You swear that the alcohol is playing with your mind, because even if Jackson is saying that to you, then it certainly can’t be in the tone that you think it is. It was hard to distinguish what was real and what was in your head.

“Just you,” drunk you is very surprising, but you kind of liked her.

You tried to read Jackson’s face, but for once you couldn’t. Instead of one of the smiles you had memorized and etched into your brain, you were taken aback to be met with Jackson’s blank face. For someone who was always smiling, it made you feel like you had whiplash at his out of character demeanor. “Y/N… I think you’re drunk.”

You were drunk? Okay yes… maybe you were, but after spending the party staring at Jackson and all of these months watching is every move it was clear that you were drunk on more than just alcohol. You’ve been drunk for months and right now was the tipping point.

“No. YOU’RE drunk.” You couldn’t believe that out of all the things you could say in response, you had chosen the one where you accuse him of being drunk. Jackson furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and looked down at the cup in his hand, “that would be impossible considering the fact that I don’t drink.”

Now you were the one left confused. After all the things you had heard surrounding Jackson, him not drinking didn’t really match with that, “are you sure?”

A smile stretched across his face and he lets out a little laugh. Your heart warms when you realized it’s one of his better smiles – his “that’s so funny, please tell me more” smile. If you had to spend the rest of your life seeing that smile, you’d never have a reason to be upset ever again.

“I’m sure I don’t drink alcohol.”

Your eyes widened at his reveal, “what? You don’t drink? The Jackson Wang? Party animal?”

It’s then you notice that most everyone else has left the backyard to go inside. The table that had once been full of drinks and surrounded by groups of people was suddenly cleared and deserted. You could still make out a hum coming from inside the house where people were still continuing the kickback, but from the empty backyard you suddenly felt so removed from it all.

Jackson takes a step closer to you, and frowns. At this point your mind is too hazy to analyze what kind of frown it is. Whether it’s a genuine frown or one of Jackson’s pouty frowns he wears when he gets teased by his friends, “Party animal? Where’s that coming from?”

You shrugged, “it’s just what I’ve heard… ya know through the grapevine.”

“Well I’m definitely not a party animal, so let’s clear that up now.”

“I just thought since everyone always-” you began, but he abruptly cut you off seeming a bit annoyed – something you hadn’t seen from him before, “Well not everyone knows what I’m actually like. They just make assumptions, I guess… I didn’t think you were like that though.”

The way he says the last part isn’t out of anger or annoyance, instead he sounds disappointed which makes you feel even worse. You grow quiet, your head beginning to hurt – unsure if it’s from Jackson’s reaction or the alcohol, you crouch down to the ground and place your head in your hands.

Jackson crouches down beside you out of concern and you’re barely able to make out his question of whether you’re okay or not. All you hear is an annoying ringing sound and Jackson and the yard in front of you begins to spin.

“I’m never drinking again,” you mumbled mostly to yourself, but you hear Jackson chuckle.

You feel yourself freeze and the ringing go away when Jackson reaches forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your hair, “you probably shouldn’t have had any of Mark’s drinks. They’re known to be lethal.”

“How did you know I had Mark’s drinks?”

This time it’s Jackson’s turn to freeze, his cheeks heating up, “just… took notice I guess.”

Jackson Wang had noticed you? You knew that he was attentive, the caring kind of guy who always looked after his friends, but this was different. It made the world stop spinning and your headache magically disappear as if you had been granted some sort of clarity.

You felt words on the tip of your tongue that could embarrass yourself further in front of Jackson. So much so that it could drive you to drop out of Deltasig and kiss your hopes and dreams of making connections in the business world goodbye. But the haze of the alcohol and Jackson’s big brown eyes right in front of you provoked you to let the words out.

“I always notice you Jackson.”

As soon as the words are out in the open, you look down at the ground not wanting to meet Jackson’s gaze, just as you had the day, he caught you drawing in your sketchbook. The silence that looms between the two of you feels heavy as it’s not often that Jackson’s left speechless. Even in awkward situations he always has something to say or a way to break the tension. You had seen it countless times before with all of the groupies in the frat that hang around him, so why now did he have nothing left to say?

You cleared your throat, “anyways… maybe I should get going since I’m drunk and all…” Despite your words you made no effort to get up off the ground, instead you felt yourself nervously tug at the grass around your feet still waiting for a word from Jackson.

Finally, after what felt like forever you felt like you could breathe.

“Is it the same way that I notice you?”

You know what he means, you know exactly what he means and it makes your heart stop. Your fingers leave the newest tuft of grass that you’ve pulled out of the ground and look back to Jackson. You’ve never seen him look so small and shy before; the alcohol makes you want to wrap your arms around him. Nodding at his question, you see a smile appear on his face. A smile that you haven’t seen before, one that you haven’t memorized and analyzed.

He licks his lips, “Y/N… I’ve never really been interested in parties or these stupid socials… I only really started going because I thought you would be there. I wanted to come up to you so many times, but… I just chickened out. I know we don’t know each other that well, but ever since you joined Deltasig I can’t get you out of my head. I only joined the frat to keep in mind what’s really important to me – my future – and I never thought much about making friends or,” he paused, “dating… It just wasn’t on my mind. But then I met you and I don’t know what it is… whenever I’m in a room with you I can’t stop looking at you. Ugh, that probably sounds psychotic, doesn’t it?”

You’re hanging on every word of his confession and soon find yourself laughing when he reaches the end. This entire time you had thought Jackson was this super cool, unattainable guy who paid you no mind. That he was the kind of person who was nice to everyone and had an aura to him that caused him to be labeled as one of the members of Deltasig that loved to party. But that was all wrong… Apparently, he was just like you.

“Are you laughing because you find me creepy or is it because of the alcohol?”

When you finally catch your breath, you fan yourself feeling hot from your intoxicated state and the laughter that had consumed you, “actually neither. I’m laughing because I’ve felt the exact same way.”

His face lights up and you once again catch a glimpse of that new smile. It makes you position yourself closer to him, leaning in until you can feel his breath and he can hear your heartbeat.

Just as you lick your lips and are about to close your eyes, you feel him move his hand forward to brush your hair out of your face for the second time of the night. Jackson looks at you with such a fondness that he almost convinces you that you’re a fragile doll that needs to be protected.

“I really really want to kiss you… but not while you’re drunk.” His words make sense, but they cause you to pout. You wanted his lips on yours as soon as humanly possible.

Jackson looks at you shyly once again, “can I walk you home instead?”

You felt like this was the beginning of something, the beginning of something so big and so important that never seemed fathomable before. All you had really wanted was for Jackson to look at you the same way you looked at him. It was a simple request that you never thought would be fulfilled, but with your new favorite smile etched on Jackson’s face, you felt a new kind of electricity run through your body.

“I would love that.”

#got7 fanfic #got7 #jackson wang #jackson wang fanfic #got7 fic

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loved-lefthaunted · 3 years

Note

What are your thoughts on all the evermore songs?

oh my god. this is such a hard question for me so brace yourself. it’s taken me nearly 2 months to write this out and i still don’t think i’ve managed to encapsulate all my thoughts.

So, I have very strong feelings about evermore. I immediately loved it three times as much as folklore, for a variety of reasons. I can do a song-by-song breakdown alongside my general thoughts of the album below:

Firstly, I want to preface this by saying that I do not disregard the impact that folklore had on me prior to evermore’s release. I am not oblivious to the fact that folklore likely primed me for the sound that evermore had and that my mind was set up for a similar sounding album so was willing to receive it with more open ears.

That being said, I think that evermore is the superior album. The overall emotional range and sonic variety of the album is wider and more thought out. The different songs provide a more well-rounded listen in my opinion and give me much more emotional investment than folklore. Each individual song feels strong and there are far more songs with single potential than folklore.

So let’s get down to it:

1. Willow - iconic. The big sister that cardigan deserves. The song that I wish the Lover album had been. A song so fully devoted in such a soft and sweeet way without feeling sickly. A mature way to dedicate a song to the person that you can’t live without but in a way that doesn’t throw pink confetti at your face and tell single people to fuck off. TAKE MY HAND? OKAY TAYLOR. WRECK MY PLANS? FOR SURE BABES. THAT’S MY MAN? 100% FEEL U GAL.

2. Champagne Problems - LOOK. I AM CLAIMING THE NAME SAMPAGNE PROBLEMS FOR ALL FUTURE CONTENT. I want to be proposed to just so that I can reject them and then get wildly drunk on overpriced alcohol. It’s heartwrenching in a way that Taylor hasn’t been since the likes of Treacherous. It doesn’t throw sadness at you, overwhelm you with tears. It hides heartbreak within a soft piano riff and gorgeous imagery.

3. Gold Rush - a sapphic daydream. i cannot believe this is real. The return of a heart-thumping drumbeat and the most lovely, pure song that just describes the infatuation with someone beautiful and how you can wonder about them and be so happy about them and jealous of them all at once.

4. ‘Tis The Damn Season - this christmas song makes me wish i had a boy next door in my hometown that i could randomly sleep with. why don’t i have a fluffy hallmark holiday film based upon this premise? why isn’t there a christmas music video to show me how their interactions work during the holidays and how it differs so vastly with their normal lives? Why can i feel both the distance and the closeness that these two people feel? the cutest dedication to a very un-cute casual relationship. a bittersweet shout out to the people who make us happy for a few fleeting moments spread out over the long haul.

5. Tolerate It - i have very VERY strong feelings about this one. it feels like it both encapsulates romantic and non-romantic love so perfectly. It pairs perfectly with the likes of Closure (more on that later). We all deserve to be celebrated. In a world of people settling for less than they deserve, we should reach for those who deserve us. We are worth it. Find someone who will show us how worthy we are. It’s aching and slow and painful and just....everything. Just because someone has always been there doesn’t mean they deserve to continue to be there. Tolerating you is not the same as deserving your loyalty.

6. No Body, No Crime (feat. HIAM) - IT TOOK 14 YEARS BUT TAYLOR FINALLY MURDERED A MAN IN COLD BLOOD AND I AM HERE FOR IT. MEN ARE TRASH, LADIES. REMEMBER THIS. ENGRAVE IT INTO YOUR TOMBSTONES. TATTOO IT ON YOUR FOREHEADS. MEN AS AN ENTITY DO NOT DESERVE US. MURDER THEM. A YEEHAW DREAM. (I have no strong feelings about HIAM but the existence of Este’s name is a blessing in itself, their backing vocals are a lovely addition and a true testament to their friendship as we know how protective Taylor is about mixing business and friendship through collaborations)

7. Happiness - this song is HURTFUL. a song about growth, a song about finding yourself amidst the loss of a partner, a friend, a family member. a loss so deep that it will hurt you for years to come and take a piece of you away forever. but a loss that you have to be resigned to and grow from and let go of. the slow build of the backing is something i haven’t heard since Holy Ground. Both songs talk about loss and moving on in such starkly different ways but still encompass the feeling of reminiscing on something good and pure and perfect whilst battling the knowledge that it’s over and trying to be happy for the person now that they’re gone.

8. Dorothea - the sweetest girl in the neighbourhood. a childhood friend that we all miss having. a person we watched grow into something massive and successful and we’re so genuinely happy for them. the song encompasses the feeling of a distanced joy. a joy that has nothing to do with you, everything to do with this person that you’d be happy to accept again with open arms but will be equally as happy to watch succeed from a distance. a bouncy backing track and lovely vocalisations that really build a sense of a warm hug and the feeling of soft morning sun on your skin.

9. Coney Island (feat. The National) - alright. so i’m sat on a bench in the cold, wrapped up in a winter coat and a hat and gloves and a massive scarf that covers half of my face. i can see the air when i breathe out. there’s an empty ferris wheel at a deserted fairground and i can remember when it was alive and bustling and when i was surrounded by all of the people closest to me on a late summer’s day. and i miss them. i yearn for that to be back. the way we yearn for a time before covid, before masks and elbow touches and sanitising everything. a time when you could sit around a table with your friends and welcome someone with a hug and visit your family for the holidays. a time of joy that was so overlooked until it was gone. The presence of The National is also a breathtaking addition and truly deserved after Aaron’s input on both folklore and evermore. I’m glad they saved it for this song.

10. Ivy - this song just radiates GREEN. Am I in a forest? Am I just in a greenhouse, watering the plants? The guitar/banjo sounds make me so horrifically nostalgic for Speak Now era. The male backing vocals remind me that Taylor has evolved so far from the girl we used to exclusively listen in conjunction with Caitlin Bird and Liz Huett.

11. Cowboy Like Me - one of the only songs I don’t really care about? it’s not bad, it’s just not great. it’s yeehaw without the accompanying passion. It’s the end of a sad, sad wild west movie. It’s a backing track in a scene of a TV show when someone is going on a journey alone to find themselves. But it’s nothing special.

12. Long Story Short - DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH ME. THE BEST SONG ON THIS ALBUM IN MY OPINION. THE STRONGEST BEAT, THE NOSTALGIA OF 1989, THE LYRICS OF RED, THE FUCKS GIVEN OF REPUTATION. THE PERFECT IMMERSIVE TAYLOR EXPERIENCE. TRULY A 10/10 ENTITY. I WILL HAVE THIS PLAYING AT MY GRADUATION. I SURVIVED.

13. Marjorie - the loss of a grandparent is always a lot. i’ve lost 2 due to Covid and it’s cut me deeper than I ever imagined. Marjorie is the 50′s sepia toned daydream that sends you flying back to being a child and being taught life’s most important lessons when you were far too young to understand them from someone so much wiser than you. It feels like I’m being taught to live again. Another build up backing track, but in such an uplifting way? A way that makes you think of the sun slowly coming out of the clouds. Of the end of a rainstorm and the start of a new day. Optimism and innocence. Peace and hope.

14. Closure - right, the return of sadness. The use of the clatter and discord in the background. The death of a Big Machine (subtle and perfectly done). She’s doing better. We all are. It reminds me of the friends I’ve lost and crave to have back but know I’m better off without. We have to let go of this. Close the chapter. You don’t even need the epilogue, it’s over. The production makes me so uncomfortable and it’s SO NECESSARY because lack of closure is UNSETTLING. It’s horrifying. It’s devastating. But the lyrics and the power of the song show how strong you can be and how important it is to push through the discomfort and continue to live.

15. Evermore (feat. Bon Iver) - the titular song. The return of Bon Iver’s vocals and the lone piano background are truly something to be commemorated for years to come. Although it lacks the painstaking hurt of Exile, this is one of her most simple pieces of artistry on this album and it’s BEAUTIFUL. Something that feels bare and raw. A song that cuts deep and shows us the true core of what she’s currently feeling right now: that although pain might feel forever, it’s not. all pain, much like joy, is fleeting and we have to feel it but we need to remember that it’s only a piece of our experience and place it into context. The song veers on self-pity and wallowing in hopelessness until the latter third, where suddenly hope rises out of the ashes alongside a slightly padded out production from Bon Iver’s vocals. A strong end to the album. This song sets us up for future albums on a note of optimism. It’s a new dawn.

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goldeneyedgirl · 4 years

Text

JaliceWeek2020 Day 7

JaliceWeek2020 Day 7: Yeehaw/Western/Sheriff

Love & Duty

Notes: Okay, I’m pretty sure this isn’t nearly ‘cowboy’ enough, and I’ve already started an alternative piece, but I found an old tumblr post about how cowboys were just daytime witches, and I frickin’ loved it (I’ll link it in the morning) and my excitement got out of hand again. There’s definitely going to be more to this story, but separately.

I also just wanted to prove to myself I could smash out two prompts in one day, honestly. I opted for quantity over quality, and I currently only have some regrets - 4.5 down, 3.5 to go.

The old farmhouse sits outside Laredo, Texas. The wood has blackened from decades underneath the sun and seems to sink in on itself; the ground cracked and dry. The barn roof has caved in, obviously years before if the elaborate nest tucked at the edge is any indication. At the end of the drive, the sign once bore the name of the owners, but that name has long since faded into the wood.

It is an unwelcoming place, for any passerby or stranger - a house that actively discourages anyone from crossing the boundary, even if they never notice it.

But for those that sought it out, and for those few that lived there, it was very different.

—

It was a sacred duty, once upon a time - the Guardians of the Border, sent to protect and prevent the Southern Wars from spilling over from Mexico into America proper. For decades, girls from all the old families across the country were sent to Texas to run the Guard Houses, to protect and shield those. Back then, there were so many daughters that only the very best were accepted at the Border Guard Houses, most of them settled in the city houses, mixing the potions and preparing the weapons. Some girls were even sent home - there were only so many beds, after all.

And Texas remained well-guarded.

But time marches on. Vampire wars, human wars, they all have a death toll, and entire family lines died out. It became less of an honour, more of an obligation, and one that fell to the oldest daughter, or the oddest daughter, or the ugliest daughter. It became more important to keep the bloodlines strong than to protect the South from the never-ending Wars.

Mary-Alice Brandon was never surprised to be banished to Texas on her sixteenth birthday; she’d known her entire life she’d don the blacks and take up the mantle as six generations of Brandon witches had done before her. She was not good breeding stock, with her ‘visions’ and her temper and her complete disinclination to conform to her parents’ social obligations. Cynthia was a much better heiress, and so off to Texas Alice was sent, to three ancient ‘aunts’ who would train her in all she would need to know, having lived their entire lives defending the Laredo house.

The house wasn’t so bad, if you looked past the glamour. The house was in good repair, and the aunts maintained a lush garden out the back, of herbs and flowers. They had two strong horses - Hallow and Haven - and half a dozen well-pleased cats. Her own bedroom looked over the road, hidden only by the branches of an ancient willow tree. Of course, the aunts were strict teachers that expected impossible standards, and third-rate cooks. But no place was perfect, and at least here no one cared about manners or propriety.

But she missed the sunshine. That was one thing the aunts never budged on. “Day is for sleep.” And hell was raged over her head if she wasn’t tucked up tight in bed every morning before dawn, the curtains drawn tight and refusing to budge. Once every moon cycle, her aunts would have a dawn meeting with someone but she wasn’t allowed to join those until she was twenty one, when she formally became a Witch Guardian. Until then, she was just a handmaid and dogsbody.

Which is why she was up to her ankles in mud, trying to pry an overzealous hemlock plant from the ground because it was smothering the chamomile again, with nothing to light her work except the lanterns on the porch. And this was just the first of the positively irritating chores she had been assigned that night.

It was her own fault, really. She should have kept her nose out of the books, and maybe there’d be more lessons for her to finish.

Shoving her hair out of her eyes, Alice glared viciously at the hemlock plant, and wondered if the aunts would consider it ‘inappropriate behaviour’ to curse the damn thing to burn.

“Mary-Alice!”

One of the aunts came dashing out of the backdoor - all three were fairly interchangeable, which felt like an uncharitable thought, but it was the honest truth - looking more agitated than Alice had ever seen her.

“Yes, Auntie?”

“Get out of the mud, and go and fetch one of the horse,” the older woman said, buckling an over-stuffed messenger bag. “Be quick, girl. Change your boots, don’t worry about your dress.”

Struggling out of the garden and into the house to find her riding boots, Alice knotted her hair back before hurrying to the barn, where all three aunts were gathered, Hallow already saddled - she would have thought Haven a better choice, since Hallow was so big and she was not the strongest rider.

“You’re going to Del Rio, girl,” one of the aunts said, shoving over a mounting block with surprising strength. “One of our allies has suffered an injury and cannot be moved. Hallow should have you there by dawn.”

“Del Rio?” Alice couldn’t remember the last time she’d been into Laredo, let alone more than a hundred miles up the border.

“Yes. Now, they’re expecting you,” the second aunt said, taking her hand and half shoving her up and into Hallow’s saddle. “Everything you need is in the bag; there’s food and water for you, but you’ll need them to provide more for your return journey. Hallow knows the way; if you hit the yellow farmhouse, you’ve gone too far. There should be a scout waiting for you anyway, don’t worry. It’s a long trip, but it’s a good practice for you, and you’re a good, clean healer.”

“The boy’s in a bad way, so you best be off,” the final aunt said, looking grim. “Let us know how long you’ll be staying and when you set off home.”

“Okay,” Alice managed, a bit dazed from the amount of information she’d just been given.

“Blessed and safe journey, my dear,” the first aunt said, looking worried before Hallow decided they had lingered long enough, and moved out of the barn.

Alice suddenly regretted cursing the hemlock.

—

The ride was long and hard. She honestly regretted not getting changed into something more sensible - she’d learnt to ride as a girl English style, side-saddle, but the aunts had laughed at that particular pretension, and Western saddles and long skirts were not a winning combination.

The bag wasn’t heavy enough for any of them to have thought to pack her a clean dress, either, and she was truly wretched at cleaning spells. Perhaps the Del Rio coven could loan her a dress.

Hallow stopped some time after midnight, and she took that opportunity to eat - a floury apple, some dry bread, and cold chicken that was so well cooked it might as well have been ash. But it was food, and the urgency that she been sent off - alone - implied she didn’t have more than a few minutes to rest.

The rest of the trip felt long, and as pink and gold streaks began to hover at the horizon, Alice wondered if she’d taken too long - if the poor boy (boy? she’d never heard of a coven accepting a boy, but maybe the Guard Houses had decided to modernise) had already succumbed. But it wasn’t like she was provided with a map or proper direction…

It was dawn when Hallow began to slow, and she saw a man leaning against a signpost with an indecipherable sign, the road behind him leading to a fire-decimated house on a hill in the distance.

“Miss Brandon?” the man said, looking at her with suspicion before his eyes softened. “Ah, Hallow.” The horse clearly recognised him, nickering affectionately at the man.

“Yes, I am Miss Brandon. You are the scout from Del Rio?” she asked primly, as if she didn’t have mud on her face and dress and sleeves, and no hat.

“Yup. Come on, he’s in the house. I’m Peter,” the man said. “Budge up.”

Within seconds, Peter had swung himself onto Hallow behind her, and Alice gasped at the impropriety, but didn’t get a moment to say a word as Peter clicked and Hallow took off like a bullet.

As Hallow passed another sign that couldn’t be read, the fire-ruins shimmered before reforming into an expansive and well-lived farmhouse, with a large barn. Out the back, she could see pristine fields full of horses and cattle. It was like chalk and cheese from home, and for a moment, she was jealous.

As they stopped in front of the house, Peter slid off, and tied off Hallow’s bridle to the porch railing, reaching up to help her down.

“Quick now, one of the boys will come take care of Hallow, we need you to tend to Jasper now,” Peter said, half dragging her up the front stairs and into the house.

It felt like a bustle of activity, and was so bright and airy. The smell of fresh bread filtered through the house, and Alice couldn’t help but snatch a look as she was dragged deeper into the house.

“Char! The witching’s here!” Peter bellowed, and suddenly Alice was presented with a drawn-looking woman with strawberry-blonde hair.

“Oh, thank gods,” she said. “I’m Charlotte. Come with me. His fever keeps getting higher, and I’ve tried everything I know. We called out to everyone, but your aunt was the only one who got back to us.”

She was lead into a backroom, where a mattress was laid out on the floor, and the curtains were drawn. And in the middle of the room, moaning in pain and sweaty, was a tall man covered in scars.

Alice tried not to gasp. The scars were quite clearly vampire bites, healed ones. Covens had some natural immunity to vampire venom, but it only slowed down the process and allowed it to be reversed. There were dozens of stories of girls who couldn’t be saved, and had been burnt before the change could be completed. It was, unfortunately, one of the risks of their duty.

“He got ambushed,” Charlotte said, kneeling beside the man. “The harpy practically gutted him, but he got away okay.” She pulled back the sheet, to reveal an enormous wound that had been clumsily stitched, from the middle of his chest, slashing downward over his stomach to his hip. “It needs cauterising I think, but I’m no healer.”

Alice came back to herself then. Whatever was going on here - male Guardians, this untrained woman, all the bite marks - could be questioned after this poor man - Jasper, had Peter called him? - was treated.

Dropping to her knees, Alice quickly inspected Charlotte’s stitching of the wound. “It will need cauterising, it’s too deep,” she determined quickly. “And treatment for infection, but stitching it was a smart thing to do.” Charlotte looked relieved. “Did he get bitten?”

“His arms,” Peter said, and Charlotte quickly pulled off bandages, already blackening from the venom. Three bites on one arm, four on the other. Bad, bad business.

“Okay. Do you have a smock, and a place I can wash up?” she said, standing quickly. Walking into a sick room in her filthy clothes and boots had been a stupid thing to do, but nothing for it now.

“Of course - show her the bathroom, Peter,” Charlotte darted out.

Within moments, Alice had a smock over her underthings and a pair of borrowed slippers - Charlotte promising to wash her dress immediately - and she’d scrubbed every visible inch of her skin as fast as she could, her hair pinned under a kerchief.

It was a very, very long day. The bites had to be purified, cleaned, and bandaged to draw out as much venom as possible; the bandages had to be changed four times every day, to prevent the venom lingering against the skin. Jasper had to be fed the tonic that the aunts had sent every two hours to flush any venom that had already ended his system. Then she had to treat the fever, to lesson his evident discomfort, and treat the infection that had clearly set into the wound Charlotte had stitched, whilst reassuring Charlotte that it was nothing actively wrong that she’d done, just the unlucky result of riding home with an open wound.

But by the time night fell, Jasper was somewhat more comfortable - the moaning had stopped, and with a generous dose of pain and sleep tonic, he seemed to actually be sleeping.

Alice wished she could.

Instead, she changed his bandages again before finding herself in the kitchen, with Charlotte piling plates with food.

“We heard from the others,” she said, taking her own seat. “Days away, Carlisle is furious. Emmett’s already on his way back with Rosalie, but they won’t make it here for at least a week.” Charlotte looked exhausted. “At least they’ll bring supplies.”

“What’s done is done,” Peter said smartly, watching Alice as she began to eat, exhaustion in every one of her motions. “Jasper will be okay now, yes?”

Alice looked up. “Well,” she began, and sighed. “There were so many bites,” she managed, trying to be kind. “And he’s been bitten before - even one previous bite decreases the effectiveness of treatment. I swear I am doing everything I can possibly do.”

“You’re young, yes?” Peter shot back. “Not even a full Guardian yet?”

“Peter!” Charlotte scolded.

“No, I’m not of age yet. My title does not affect my ability - I have been trained. I have completed my lessons. There is nothing I can think of that I am not already doing,” Alice retorted.

“And we are grateful,” Charlotte broke in.

“Yup, I’m positive Jasper would be thrilled that his life is in the hands of a schoolgirl,” Peter muttered before getting up from the table and storming away.

Alice was too tired to be angry, and just sighed and went back to her food - Charlotte was far and away a better cook than the aunts; perhaps a week of edible food, and she’d be filling out her dresses properly.

“I’m sorry, Peter and Jasper… they’re like brothers. They’ve been together for years,” Charlotte said, looking at her plate. “…Please, please don’t let Peter’s rudeness dissuade you from helping Jasper…”

Alice looked up in shock. “No. No, of course not. I understand his frustration, I do. And there’s nothing he could say to me that would make me treat Jasper any less, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte smiled, and began to clear the table. “The guest room is at the top of the stairs, I’ve laid out a nightgown for you, and some towels. Peter’s taken care of your horse, and I’m sure…”

“That’s very kind of you,” Alice said gently, “but I’ll sit up with Jasper tonight; he’ll need watching.”

“Could I help at all? Watch him in shifts?” Charlotte asked, but Alice could see the exhaustion and worry in every line of the woman’s face. If they weren’t careful, Charlotte would fall ill too and she’d have two patients.

“No, it has to be me, to make sure the bites are clean and the tonic takes. We’ll have a better idea of how he is tomorrow, though,” Alice offered. “I would like to bathe, though, if you could watch him?”

“Oh, of course - there’s a washroom in the guest room,” Charlotte said, gesturing to the stairs. “Thank you, Alice. I mean it. Thank you for coming, I feel like everything is going to be okay now that you’re here.”

—

It was a long night, with exhaustion setting in for Alice - she hadn’t slept in over a day, had ridden half-way up the border… she felt like an old woman. But it was her duty. And she would do it to the best of her ability.

Charlotte had leant her several dresses, and it was quite strange to wear a colour that wasn’t black or grey, but a welcome novelty, even if the dresses were a size too big.

Settling beside the sickbed, Alice administered the tonic every two hours, and found herself changing the bandages obsessively, as soon as she saw or smelt the venom. She flushed out the bite wounds - one would need stitching. She’d have to cauterise the chest wound first thing in the morning; his fever still lingered, but the tonics and potions seemed to have had a powerful effect on the infection, with the red veins having already retreated.

Though, she might have to teach Charlotte how to administer stitches whilst she was here. The woman was clearly unfamiliar with stitching flesh. Maybe some rudimentary treatments so that they didn’t have to wait twelve hours for help.

The aunts had packed her two new books to read - purely educational, histories of the coven, that were not even a little bit relevant in her current situation, or interesting. But they did keep her awake.

Morning came, and Jasper’s fever had broken. She nearly cheered at that, and when Peter and Charlotte burst in at dawn, she gave them the good news. She thought that Peter was going to cry - Charlotte certainly did. But then she required the couple hold him down as she cauterised the chest wound.

Charlotte ended up vomiting at the smell, and Peter looked at little woozy, but at least he was held together with more than embroidery thread now. She quickly applied a fresh layer of ointment that smelt like mint and tea leaves to the raw wound and bound up his chest up in fresh bandages. At least Charlotte had the practicality of preparing an immense quantity of fresh, sterile bandages that looked like they been cut from good quality bed linens or petticoats.

The day moved slowly; Charlotte brought her meals in on a tray, and sat with Jasper whilst she changed her dress again, and sent a message to the aunts. Peter was very respectful around her, and brought her anything she asked for - purified water, feverfew, lavender, aloe vera. Jasper seemed to sleep more comfortably each day, as she fed him cold tea laced with every possible tonic and potion she had in her bag and could create from scratch. His bite marks were cleared every day, settling into fresh scar tissue. She was genuinely sorry that they had scarred, but there was nothing for it.

But only time would tell if the venom had made it to his heart.

—

Seven days. She had been at the Del Rio house for seven days and seven nights. Jasper had passed out of danger, and was now just healing, though he hadn’t regained consciousness. But Alice continued to nurse him, as was her duty and purpose here. She fed him careful sips of tea and then herbal broth, to build up his strength and hopefully reinforce his immunity; she rubbed ointments into his new wounds to keep the skin supple and preveshe lnt thick scar tissue and ease any discomfort. She helped Charlotte wash and dress him as soon as she deemed it safe.

That she had not been expecting. She hoped her poker face was good, because she’d really never seen a man’s body before. Not like that - she was only nineteen, had lived with the aunts since she was sixteen and had never been courted. Even her lessons had been done on whatever animals they could hunt or trade for from the market, not really humans. And this man, he was… handsome. He was tall and just the right amount of muscular and tan and, she shouldn’t be having these thoughts.

She couldn’t even imagine her embarrassment if this Jasper had seen her in such a way.

Oh, she was definitely sleep deprived. She had yet to sleep a single second in the guest room, snatching cat naps in the corner of Jasper’s sick room when she couldn’t hold her eyes open a single moment longer.

Which was what she was doing now. She twisted her neck uncomfortably; she’d been sleeping at a funny angle, she’d be feeling that all day. Stretching out, she looked over at her patient, only to see Jasper staring back at her curiously.

“Oh my gods!” Alice gasped, scrambling over. “You’re awake? How are you feeling? How long have you been awake?”

She quickly helped him sit up, reading for the water cup on the beside table. He took two deep swallows before coughing.

“Oh, it’s got lemon and mint in it, for healing,” she explained. “It’s helped, I promise. Hopefully we can get you back to normal drinking water and food tomorrow.”

“Who are you?” croaked Jasper, looking up at her with glazed eyes.

“Oh. Um, I’m Alice Brandon. From the Laredo Guard House,” she said, embarrassed. She was acting like a bumbling sixteen year old trainee, not a proper Guardian. “I was summoned when you were wounded.”

“Alice Brandon from Laredo,” Jasper repeated, a quirk of his lips. “Thank you.” His energy seemed to drain out of him all at once - totally normal for the severity of his wounds and his recovery.

“It was nothing,” she said. “Sleep now. It’s a great healer. Charlotte and Peter will be awake in a few hours.”

He nodded half-heartedly before he closed his eyes again, and Alice sat backwards. He was okay. Two blue eyes without a hint of red, talking and lucid, and drinking easily. She did it.

He lived.

—

Both Peter and Charlotte had wept when they realised that Jasper was conscious again, and Peter had nearly tackled the man when he saw Jasper sitting up, drinking water and talking to Alice, trying to piece together what had happened to him, and to learn how she had treated him - the Del Rio Guard House had fallen to the Whitlock-Hales several generations ago, and many of the old skills - like healing - had been lost.

In fact, it was only him, Peter, and Charlotte who were at the house full-time now - they hired local boys to help out on the ranch that funded the Del Rio clan. Jasper’s own sister and brother-in-law visited regularly, as did various other friends and allies, “but none of us are witchlings,” he coughed. “We were raised in the sun, not in the night.”

She smiled at reference to the old rhyme. “Even your sister?” she asked; girls were kept to the night, boys to the day. Old attitudes that had held true - girls were protected and cloistered (and much less likely to be caught poisoning or cursing) in the darkness. Their herbs and plants bloomed and grew so much harder under the moon than the sun. But boys, they were the fighters, the warriors, and battle against vampires and other dark creatures was best done when there was no darkness to escape into.

“Even my sister,” Jasper had smiled. “Rose would have made a horrible healer - punched me in the arm and told me to ‘man up’ the first time I fell off a horse; my arm was broken. She’s not nearly as committed as I am, but she helps. Her husband’s good at it too, he just married into the madness.” He spoke about his family with such affection, Alice felt a little jealous, but before she could ask any other questions, Charlotte and Peter were there, Jasper just as pleased to see them as they were to see him.

Alice slipped out to give them privacy - a bath and a clean dress sounded heavenly right now, and she ought to send another message to the aunts. She’d help Jasper wash and change afterwards, and hopefully be able to move him from the sick room to his usual quarters with fresh sheets. He’d sleep more comfortably in his own bed.

By lunchtime, Jasper was safely ensconced in his own bed, in a room that overlooked the a paddock of horses. He’d eaten some broth and drunk as many cups of herbal tea as Alice could press on him, as she fussed around. Peter had headed off to get ranch work done, and Charlotte had taken up a vigil at Jasper’s bedside with some sewing.

“Alice, please, you don’t have to do anything of that,” Charlotte laughed as Alice began folding clothing. “You should rest - you must be exhausted.” Turning to Jasper, she continued, “I don’t think she’s rested this entire time - she sat with you every night, didn’t even wake us to help change your bandages. She insisted Peter and I sleep.”

“Oh, I’m up at night anyway,” Alice laughed. “And I’m here to help.”

Jasper was watching her carefully now.

“She hasn’t stopped at all. I cannot imagine how efficient the Laredo House is,” Charlotte shook her head. “Though, I’m sure having proper recruits makes a difference.”

Alice shook her head, as she reached out to plump a pillow behind Jasper’s head. “Oh, it’s just me and the aunts,” she said airily. “All the old families are dying out, and, well, it’s not exactly a glamorous position. I knew I’d be sent to Laredo since I was very small, so I suppose my mother and father prepared me for it.”

“It sounds lonely,” Jasper said quietly.

And it was. She always tried to think of the positives, that she had her own bedroom, and she got to learn so quickly and do hands on practice much more quickly, and there were practically no chores but she had still been alone there for three and a half years. No companions, just duty. It hadn’t felt quite as bad until she’d come here, to this bright, happy place with sweet Charlotte and practical Peter and handsome Jasper…

“It’s home,” she finally said, honestly. “But I will take you up on that offer for a rest. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to wake me.”

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” Jasper said.

“See that you do - you’re my first official patient, and it would look terrible if you died when I was napping,” Alice teased, before slipping out of the room. She could sleep, finally.

—

The next week and a half fell into a routine. Jasper regained his strength surprisingly quickly, and went from being bedridden to eating meals in the kitchen with them all, to back on his horse - an enormous brown beast named Duke - within the week, though he did seem to tire quickly.

He took to showing her their operation - the wall of blessed weapons in the barn and in the house, the modified saddles to carry the weapons, the horses carefully trained to protect their rider and be desensitised to the presence of vampires.

It turned out that Charlotte was a newcomer, a local girl raised as a kitchen-witch whose brother had worked on the ranch. Charlotte had fallen quite hard for Peter, to hear Jasper tell it, and hadn’t flinched when she realised she’d married into a quasi-family of cowboy vampire hunters. She had started a small greenhouse with many common herbs that was a good start, but Alice knew that they needed something a little more robust for their ‘business’. She immediately promised Jasper to write them a list of additions they needed - and send them seeds and samples - and their purpose as soon as she was back in Laredo.

It was all very pleasant, but Alice realised quickly that Jasper was, for all intents and purposes, healed. She had no place here any longer; his sister would arrive soon, and he had no use of a nurse or witching now. She needed to leave.

She announced those plans at dinner that night, as Charlotte presented another one of her delightful spreads.

“I’m going to miss this,” she said ruefully, as they all dug in. “The aunts cannot cook at all.”

“Miss this?” Charlotte asked innocently, passing out hot rolls.

“Jasper is healed,” Alice smiled, trying to keep her voice upbeat. “Your recovery will continue, and you should be conservative about what you take on for a months or two, but you have no need for me any longer. I should return home first thing tomorrow.”

Everyone froze.

“So soon?” Jasper managed, almost looking… hurt?

“The aunts need me. They’re elderly,” Alice explained, “and it’s where I belong.”

Silence.

“Well, we’re mighty grateful you came all the way out here for us,” Peter said. “We’d all be happy to see you around here again.”

“Ah, but that would mean one of you was hurt, and that would be acceptable,” Alice teased. “You’ve been very kind to me. If I could trouble you for some food for the trip home, Charlotte…”

“Oh, of course,” Charlotte nodded. Jasper was focused on his potatoes and not looking at anyone. “You must stay in touch, yes? It’s been so nice having another woman here.”

“Of course,” Alice gushed, trying to ignore the reaction she knew the aunts would have if she started using the messaging system for socialising. “I’m going to be lost without you!”

“You’re not the only one,” Peter murmured, and Alice chose not to pull at that thread, and instead turned the conversation to Jasper’s sister’s arrival and tried not to dread the next morning.

—

It was a moment of weakness when she waited til Jasper was downstairs helping Peter wash up, when she slipped the medallion into his cowboy boots. He’d never feel the tiny silver charm, blessed with protection and a long life, but it would keep him safe.

She tried to convince herself it was because he probably wouldn’t survive another bite, but it didn’t work.

—

She left just before dawn, once again clad in her blacks - freshly washed and mended by Charlotte - and Jasper was waiting there, holding Hallow’s bridle as she walked out, Charlotte’s food tucked into her bag.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” she said, realising Hallow was saddled and ready to leave.

“I wanted to.” He looked her up and down. “You look beautiful.”

Alice smiled - her black lace dress, from ankle to wrist to throat - was practically her uniform; she had four more just like it hanging in her wardrobe at home. Any particular beauty in the garment had faded the one hundredth time she wore it.

Jasper stepped closer to her; standing on the second step of the porch, they were nearly eye-to-eye.

“I never truly thank you for what you did for me - Peter and Charlotte filled me in,” he continued.

“It was truly nothing, it was what I was born for,” she said, wondering if it was Jasper’s proximity that was making her so warm, or if summer was coming early.

Jasper just stared at her and all of a sudden his lips were on hers.

She had never been kissed before, not even once, and it was… unexpected. Within a moment, Jasper deepened it, and she was properly clinging to his strong shoulders and oh, how could he do such a thing to her when she was about to leave?

Pulling back slowly, Jasper ducked his head. “I just wanted to do that once,” he murmured. “I couldn’t let you walk away without…”

“I can’t,” Alice whispered, somehow unable to pull away. “I… I’m not allowed. I would have to recant my vows, and the aunts have no one else to take on the Laredo house… I just can’t.”

Jasper looked at her. “That seems cruel,” he said in a low voice. “Looking after some old ladies until they die, then being left alone without being allowed anything more.”

“It’s how things are done,” Alice took a shaking breath. “I’m sorry. Please thank Charlotte and Peter for their hospitality.”

And with that, Alice took Hallow’s bridle from Jasper and mounted her horse, leaving for the Laredo house, trying to drag her mind away from what was behind her, from the first (and likely the only) kiss she had ever been given. From the way he looked at her, like she hung the moon.

She was, in all probability, never going to see him again. And that was how it was supposed to be.

#jaliceweek20 #does this even count?#it's set in texas and there are horses #alice cullen #jasper hale #my fic: love and duty #jalice #alice/jasper

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thepuckishrogue · 3 years

Text

Javier Escuella x GN!Reader in: P-R-E-Double T-Y, Pretty Boah~

NSFW ABCs || X is for ‘X-Ray’

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT || 18+ ONLY ||

↞ Previous: Dismantle. Repair. || W is for ‘Wild Card’

|| ao3 version | abcs m.list | rdr m.list | writing blog ||

↠ Requested By: No one, naturally. ↠ Reader Gender: Neutral ↠ Content Type: Not-SFW, obviously. ((MINORS BEGONE!!)) ↠ CWs/TWs: None ↠ Total WC: 1.1k~

↠ No fic this time around guys. Sorry about it, but I couldn’t think of anything and honestly I’m ready to wrap this thing up lol. But! The title was taken from Taemin’s aptly name song “Pretty Boy”. Six years later and it’s still a bop...

X-Ray || How they look with their clothes off.

💦Tags: Uhhh, nothing of note here besides my hand and tattoo kinks showing their asses, lmao…

Now originally this one asked what he’s packing, but honestly I’ve not stared at enough dicks in my lifetime to make that even remotely interesting; imo it’s average length, but thick as fuck, and that’s about all I have to say on the matter lol. Since that’s obviously not enough to warrant a whole post instead we’re going with this modified version which I got from another list. I don’t remember who created said list, so my apologies for that.

But anyways! We got a lot of ground to cover, so let’s get into things, shall we?

|| The Scars

Whether we’re talking a modern AU or something more canon compliant this man has his fair share of scars.

In the yeehaw days most were earned from living life as an outlaw. There’re at least half a dozen overly smooth lines on either arm from near misses with blades and bullets alike; a few puckered scars from the unfortunate occasions where he wasn’t able to find cover in time to dodge the latter. He also has a decent amount of knife wounds, though most of these are compliments of his love for five-finger fillet. These nicks are, for the most part, super old and confined to his hands—though he does earn himself a new entry (or several) every now and then if he actually finds someone that can match or exceed his skill. The rest of the knife wounds were earned in various bars and the like, and the fights that always seemed to find him there; these are mostly confined to his forearms and torso with the exception being the cut on his neck. As for my theory on how he earned that one…

Well, he was out with his former lady-love and someone made the great mistake of disrespecting her. This led to him bodying a mf, much to said mf’s surprise. Dude thought that just because our mans is on the smaller side that he would be easy pickings, and he, of course, was very, very wrong. Humiliated, the accoster limped off to lick at his wounds, but just because he’d been beaten in that moment that didn’t mean that he’d been defeated. He caught Javi a few days later in a blitz attack—meaning he cracked him over the head with his dagger’s handle before pulling him in and pressing the blade against his neck.

He probably could’ve killed Javier if he hadn’t started monologuing like a goddamn idiot. Honestly it was some shit straight out of a B-rated action flick; he really wanted Javi to remember who he was, and what he’d done, and why he was about to die. It was all very dramatic, and low-key annoying, but good in that it gave Javi enough time to loosen his own blade and drive it back into the man’s side. It wasn’t a killing blow, but it was enough to get the man to flinch. This was both good and not—good because Javier was mostly free at that point, not because the blade ended up digging into his neck some. The resulting wound was deep, but thankfully not so deep as to cause any fatal damage.

Back in the yeehaw days this is what set off the chain of events that eventually led to him fleeing Mexico all together—at least in my personal canon—and ig the same can apply to modern AUs, depending on said AU. And since we’re on the subject–

In modern times he obviously doesn’t have the bullet scars and other combat related injuries—or hell, maybe he does if this is a Gang/Mob!AU type deal—though FFF is still a thing he enjoys across all AUs/eras so his hands being nicked up is p. much always a given. The neck slice is also still present and, as I said, was obtained in much the same way.

|| The Tattoos (oh lawd, the tattoos)

But his scars are far from being the most notable thing to grace his skin because tattoos are a thing and they are a very, very good thing indeed.

Look, Imma level with you guys—I am an absolute fucking whore for tattoos so naturally I want to cover anyone I can in the things lol. Luckily I think that Javi would be pretty into them. He views tattoos as a cross-section between accessories, art, and self-expression. Because of this his reasons for getting them ranges from “I thought it would look cool.” to memorials of lost loved ones to just wanting to get inked by a certain artist.

As for what he specifically has that’s a whole ass thing and too much for me to think about right now. No, seriously, I would be here for literal days coming up with designs and trying to arrange them in a way that flows lmao. It doesn’t help matters that I switch between him being absolutely covered in ink and only having a few tasteful pieces. Regardless of how many he has, I do think he’d be a fan of blackwork. I don’t really see him having too much color at all; maybe the odd pop here and there for aesthetic, but that’s it.

Also—HAND TATTOOS. That’s it, that’s the kink. He’s already got amazing hands, now imagine them (especially his fingers, holy SHIT) accented with ink…

(I’m totally not fanning myself as furiously as a southern belle at an outdoor ball during the height of summer, no sir.)

|| The Whole Damn Package

Looking beyond his skin, dude’s got a body regardless of what century he’s in. If we’re talking outlaw!Javier it’s earned by necessity as it just isn’t viable to not be in shape by his estimation. So much of his life revolves around physical work, be this tending to his chores around camp or the more dangerous side of gang life, so being at least somewhat fit is kinda unavoidable. It makes his life easier and moderately safer if he’s able to do things quickly without having to worry about getting winded or not being strong enough to get things done.

In modern times he understands the importance of keeping healthy, plus he’s—well not exactly vain, but he does take pride in his appearance. He likes to look good both in and out of his clothes so exercise is a must for him. This doesn’t mean that he likes doing it though lol. He’s that guy that goes into the gym on a mission; he’s got his regimen and his workout playlist and god fucking help anyone who gets in the way of him getting shit done lmao.

Overall he is a very pretty boah—10/10, would ogle again.

Up next: “Seriously?” or Five Times Your Friends Were So Over Your Foolishness || Y is for ‘Yearning’

“Seriously?”

↠ In which the pair of you can’t catch a fucking (heh) break…

© notepadsandtealeaves, 2020 || Please do not repost, translate, or otherwise alter or distribute my works without my express permission. And for the love of god keep it away from Youtube and TikTok lol…

#javier escuella x reader #javier escuella x gn!reader #javier escuella x gender neutral reader #javier escuella x neutral reader #((immy does fan fiction: the yeehaws))

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boyyyhowdy-blog · 5 years

Text

It’s All Pretty Hopeless but We Keep on Trying

pairing: javier escuella x female!reader

summary: Plagued by nightmares, you find yourself alone on the docks at Clemens Point until Javier joins you. While sharing your troubled thoughts, Javier feels something he never thought he’d experience again.

warnings: mega sad reader, angst, mentions of violence, emotional distress, one (1) sweet cowboy in a poncho

word count: 1,724

=-=-=

You were sitting on the dock again, feet in the water, neck craned to watch the summer night sky speckled with stars. Your loose hair swayed gently as a breeze swept over the lake, surprisingly cold considering the absolutely horrid heat in the day, yet you were unmoved. Not even a shiver.

Javier felt a rush of pity as your hand swiped under your eye, no doubt wiping away a tear or two. Out of decency and sympathy, no one ever asked what happened before Dutch agreed to let you stay, yet everyone knew anyway. Living in a camp full of eavesdroppers did not grant much privacy.

It was a marvel, really, how well you kept your pain under wraps— a pretty façade of smiles and silly jokes throughout the day to keep everyone fooled. It worked for the most part. Javier had to admit, if he didn't know mental exhaustion like the back of his hand, you would've had him fooled too.

For a moment his thinks he should turn around, go back to bed and leave you to figure out your own demons. Yet something in the way you draw in a shaky breath has his heart aching.

With a sigh, he stepped onto the dock, the wood creaking under his weight. You turned at the sound, your lips curling into a fragile smile. He didn't like the way his heart jumped against his ribcage.

"Hello, Javier."

"Hey," he responded, taking a seat beside you. "It's late, aren't you tired?"

You shrugged and pulled up the collar of your shirt that slipped over your shoulder. "I just needed to clear my head for a bit."

"I can get my guitar if you want," Javier offered up. He still stood by the theory that a good song could cure any broken heart. "Could sing you somethin'."

To his disappointment you turned down his offer with a shy smile. "It ain't worth wastin' your talents on me tonight. 'Sides, it's nice to listen to the crickets and the wind blowin' through the trees."

Pulling your feet out of the lake, you rested your chin on your knee, your eyes sliding shut. He took the moment to study your face, the freckles, the smile lines, and even the shadowed patches underneath your eyes. Familiar yet so much more unique than he once thought. Sure, he'd had plenty of conversations with you before tonight, but he never took the time to truly appreciate how beautiful you were.

As if in a trance, he reached out and trailed a finger along your cheek. Startled, your eyes flicked open, your skin heating with a flush as he dared to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. Your lopsided grin grew to match his.

"You should get some rest, hermosa," Javier murmured, forcing his hand back to his lap instead of tracing your soft skin even if they itched to return.

That lovely little smile, like his own personal ray of sunshine, faltered and melted away. With a sigh, your eyes trailed out back to the water. "I—I can't."

Javier bit the inside of his cheek. "Do you...want to talk?"

You shrugged and rubbed at your arm. "It's silly. Just some bad dreams, y'know?"

"Querida, nightmares aren't silly," Javier said, brows furrowing. "Especially if they keep you up all night."

Chewing your lip, you shrugged again, refusing to look at him.

Javier said your name, enjoying the way the syllables rolled off his tongue like a prayer. You spared him a glance. "Keepin' that pain bottled up isn't doing you any favors. You can tell me, if you want."

"Do you have a family, Mr. Escuella?" You asked with a gentle sigh.

Surprised by the sudden question, he shook his head. "Er, no. I mean, yes, but not anymore."

"Oh," you said. With that you swallowed and sucked in a shaky breath, your hand delving into your pocket to fish out a lovely golden locket. Flicking it open, your eyes traced over your family's faces before handing it to Javier who promptly studied your family of six standing in front of a farmhouse.

"I was seventeen when we got that picture taken," you smiled. "I remember 'cause my older sister, Harriet, was allowed to leave her room for the afternoon. I was so happy."

You pointed out the tall girl beside your younger self, her features similar but with higher cheekbones and thinner visage. Her expression reminded Javier of those fancy monarchy paintings he saw in a museum once. "Wait. What do you mean she was allowed to leave her room? Was she, like, a vampire or something?"

"No," you snorted. "She had Tuberculosis. It was partially why we bought the farm. She, uh, died a year later."

"I'm sorry," he said, wishing he could offer more.

"S'alright," you shrugged, masking the old wound with another smile. "Y'know, she used to play the piano and I'd sit an' listen outside her door—sometimes sing along. When she...when she couldn't play no more I realized she were better off dyin' than bein' in pain. Listenin' to that cough was pure torture."

You paused for a moment then pointed at the young man on your right. He wore a stern expression, out of place on his youthful face. "My brother Warren. He and the ranch hand, Collin Cassidy, would get into all sorts of trouble and somehow I'd always get roped in. Warren ended up workin' for a railroad company after Harriet died. Got in a real big fight with my Momma and Pa and I haven't seen him since."

This time, you frowned, brief anger flickering in your eyes before tracing over the little girl in the front, your arms slung over her shoulders. She looked sweet if not a bit impish. Your gaze softened. "That's Adelia, she was such a pain. I nearly strangled her every other day."

Javier chuckled, reminded of his own little sister. "Was she anything like you?"

"God no," you laughed, shaking your head. "She wouldn't so much as glance at a pile of mud while I'd come home covered from head to toe in it. Adelia much more liked braidin' the horses' hair and makin' flower crowns near the creek."

You finally moved up to your parents. "Momma and Pa. They loved us even if we were worse than Hell itself."

"You look like your mother," Javier commented, bringing the photo closer to his face. "And, you've got your father's eyes."

"Yeah," you murmured. "People always said that."

A comfortable silence filled the space, Javier content with whatever you wanted to tell him. He decided he liked the way you spoke, enjoyed the sound and cadence of your voice. Something he now looked forward to hearing.

"I—" You started, voice wavering suddenly. "I should have been there."

"How do you mean?" Javier asked, tentative despite the curiosity.

"I should have been there when those brutes burned down our farm," you spat, a sudden rush of angry tears spilling down your cheeks. "If I weren't so angry at my momma, then I would have been there. I could've helped."

He stayed silent, unfazed by your sudden fury.

Your jaw clenched as your nails tug into your arm so hard that the skin broke, your face drawn into a deep frown. "Did you know that, before they set the house on fire, they took my family out back near the pigpens and shot them from behind? I got there just as they pulled the trigger and killed my little sister."

More tears sprung from your eyes, your bottom lip quivering. "I'm afraid to close my eyes because I know that all I'll see are their face's, their last moments stuck on wonderin' why I never showed up to save them."

He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. The least he could do really. "It's not your fault."

"It isn't?" You snarled, venom lacing your words. "If it isn't then-then why do I feel this way? Why do I feel so guilty about being alive?"

You looked up at him, eyes wet with tears, your face a cocktail of grief. Guilt, pain, fury, all the familiar emotions Javier felt in a previous life, yet he had no answer for you. He didn't have to say anything as you searched his face for a solution, lips pinching in realization.

"It doesn't end, does it?" You whispered, shoulders visibly slumping. "The pain, the guilt, the weight of it all."

Javier chewed his bottom lip and sighed. "No. But it gets easier over time. You learn how to deal with it, you know?"

He glanced down at your locket, thumbed the delicate metalwork and offered it back. "I've found that it's better to think about the good memories rather than the bad ones."

You swallowed and glanced at the locket in his palm. Instead of taking it, your hand enclosed around his hand, forcing his fingers around the trinket. "Do me a favor and hold on to it for me, would you?"

Before Javier could sputter out a protest, you flashed him a sad smile, keeping your warm hand on his own clammy one. "Please. Keep it. Seein' their faces makes my heart ache worse than a pulled tooth. And..."

"And what?" He urged, enjoying the way your fingers felt over his.

"And you said you didn't have family, so you can borrow mine."

"Querida," he scoffed, shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation. "I can't take this. It's all you have left of them."

"Please," you all but begged, a stray tear rolling down your cheek. It trailed to your chin where it hung for a moment then dripped onto your lap. "I want you to have it."

"But—"

With a dry laugh you cut him off once more. "In twenty years, when we're old and you've got your own family with your own pictures, come find me. When you do, you can give it back. Okay?"

He hadn't the heart to argue. "Okay."

"Thank you."

Suddenly, your soft lips brushed against his cheek, planting a gentle kiss over his scar. Before he could process, let alone tug you back to give you a proper kiss, you were already halfway down the dock.

Javier pressed his fingers to his cheek, a giddy smile tugging at his lips. He’d be talking to you a lot more from now on.

=-=-=

an: yeehaw hope y'all enjoy

#javier escuella x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #javier escuella #red dead redemption x reader #angst #my writing #El writes #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #big sad feels #first fic

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blue-tongue · 5 years

Text

Examining the Group Dynamic of the Seven

I feel like I see a lot of posts complaining about the lack of friendship between the various seven members. Since I have an ungodly about of time on my hands, I’ve taken it upon myself to take a deep dive into all of the friendships between them.

Before anything, I should note- there are seven main characters in this series- Percy, Annabeth, Jason, Piper, Leo, Frank, and Hazel. That means you have twenty one relationships you have to develop (each of the seven times each of their viewpoint on the other six divided by two to make the relationship go both ways).

I’m going to breakdown how their relationships develop book by book-

1) The Lost Hero (TLH)- POVs: Jason, Piper, Leo

Percy and Annabeth- well developed from the previous series.

Jason and Piper- complicated as frick. Since Hera just happened to plant fake memories of their relationship in Piper’s head, there’s this awkward one-sided relationship going on while they have crushes on each other. Percabeth started on a clean slate and had four years to slowly come together. Jiper is condensed into one book/quest, meaning that their relationship has less time to develop.

Jason and Leo- Best friends. Similar Percy/Grover in the sense that Jason is supposed to be the HeroTM and Leo doesn’t fit the archetype as much.

Piper and Leo- Sibling-esque friendship.

Piper and Annabeth- Beginning a best friend relationship

Jason and Annabeth/ Leo and Annabeth- Acquaintances I guess? They have to work together? They might call each other friends but only in the vaguest sense of the word? They’re work colleagues?

2) Son of Neptune (SoN)- POVs: Percy, Hazel, Frank

Percy and Hazel- Big brother/ protective friendship. Hazel literally thought Percy was a god when they first met. It should be noted that Percy sees the chemistry between Hazel and Frank and starts ashipping like there’s no frigging tomorrow.

Percy and Frank- Friends. Percy sees Frank’s potential besides his deep insecurities. Percy serves as the older, more experienced (although he can’t remember his experiences) one. Again, Percy is a huge Frazel shipper.

Hazel and Frank- Everything that is good and pure in this world.

3) Mark of Athena (MoA)- POVs: Annabeth, Percy, Piper, Leo

The group is finally together! Yeehaw!

Things that happened in the time jump between TLH and MoA:

Piper and Annabeth- Best friends

Piper and Jason- Have a stabler relationship. Congrats on that.

Things that happened in the book:

Percy and Annabeth- !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (I can’t describe it better than this)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Percy and Jason- BROS. Little bit competitive because they’re both alphas, but BROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOS

Leo and Hazel- Long sigh. Leo is a carbon copy of Hazel’s ex (from seventy years ago) and Leo’s like oh. Hazel’s kinda pretty. I mean she has a boyfriend sure I respect that but still. Pretty. (Turns out she’s his great grandpa’s girlfriend. wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.)

Leo and Frank- They start of great. Frank is paralyzed with fear that Leo’s going to steal his girlfriend and then murder him with fire. Leo spends the entire book teasing Frank without realizing this. Yey.

Annabeth and Frank- The have one scene together where Annabeth’s like “Aw look at this adorable manchild” and that’s pretty much it.

Leo and Percy- Leo’s kinda disappointed that Percy’s so basic. Percy’s big brother instinct kicks in and he’s like “Listen here lil’ punk *jabs finger into Leo’s chest* if you lay one hand on Hazel and break up this pure relationship I SWEAR TO THE GODS-”

Piper and Percy- Piper’s kinda disappointed that Percy’s so basic. Percy’s like okay. Her. My girlfriend’s friend. We’re work colleagues. She’s okay I guess.

Also as a side note:

Annabeth thinks Nico has a crush on her

4) House of Hades (HoH)- POVs: Hazel, Annabeth, Leo, Percy, Frank, Jason (literally everyone except Piper WOW)

Percy and Annabeth- Surviving through Tartarus. There’s So Much Development To Their Relationship. Downside being Dark! Percy. Which isn’t really acknowledged as much as it should be. Like do they ever really talk heart to heart about it? No?

Leo and Hazel- Leo gets a girlfriend so he stops his weird soft pining @ Hazel.

Leo and Frank- Frank’s not scared of Leo stealing his girlfriend and then murdering him with fire because he now has a ^girlfriend^ and Leo gave him a fire-proof pouch thing for his stick.

Hazel and Frank- Frank’s hot now so... yeah!

Leo and Percy- .....So we’ve both on Calypso’s Island, huh?

Piper and Hazel- They... apparently practice sword fighting? I mean, it’s not much but it’s something? Points for that?

Jason and Frank- They bond over being praetor/ roman although WE DON’T GET TO SEE THEM ACTUALLY HAVE THAT CONVERSATION DO WE RICK?

Bonus relationships:

It should be noted that although I love Nico, he really isn’t one of the seven. I think Rick originally intended him to be a secondary character like he was in the first series, but then he became a main character. This wouldn’t be a problem except Rick is having enough trouble juggling the seven on their own.

Nico and Percy- SO SOMEONE HAS A CRUSH (although honestly wow doesn’t have a crush on Percy at this point). Their relationship is still strained from the last series.

Jason and Nico- Jason is basically Nico’s supportive Straight AllyTM/ Life Coach/ Mom who wants to grab Nico by the Ramones t-shirt, shake him a bit, tell him that there there are millions of queer kids in the world finding love everyday, that he’s his own worst enemy, he needs to get away from the underworld, go outside, make some friends, stop hating Percy, get some hobbies and then who knows maybe he’ll develop a disposition that others find more approachable (yes this is Contrapoints reference thank you for noticing)

5) Blood of Olympus (BoO)- POVs: Jason, Reyna, Leo, Nico, Piper (Note that Percy, Annabeth, Frank, and Hazel are not included >:((((()

Jason and Piper- Their relationship is developed a little bit. They work together the most out of all of the seven to defeat Gaia. They say I love you to each other at the end of the book (*represses all my knowledge of Trials of Apollo for the sake of this post*) Except for Leo’s “death”, everything’s great!

Percy and Annabeth- Everything’s fine. Percy’s fine. Percy doesn’t have a dark side. Nope. “If I can’t drown neither can my pancakes!” Haha. Ha. Funny.

Piper and Annabeth- Let me cup your face, pull you forward until our foreheads are touching, and feel your rapid pulse as I whisper softly, “Fear can’t be reasoned with. Neither can hate. They’re like love. Stop thinking about it. Just feel. Let it scare you. Trust that it’ll be okay anyway”~

Leo and Percy- They address the Calypso thing (in the middle of a battle). So. You know. They’re on okay terms I guess?

Piper and Frank- Frank goes and “Brings the family full circle” offscreen and he’s like ‘yeah they didn’t like me because I’m not white’ and Piper’s like ‘well white people do suck sometimes’

Leo and Hazel/Frank- Oh hi I know we just resolved the awkwardness between us a few seconds ago but can collude with me on this top secret plan in which I’ll die and then maybe (if we play are cards right) come back to life?

Bonus relationships:

Hazel and Nico: They’re cute siblings and I love them

Reyna and Nico: They’re cute adoptive siblings that have shared trauma and I love them.

Nico and Percy: Nico comes out. Percy’s confused because he doesn’t understand how internalized homophobia works (Wait... but you hated me... but then... you liked me this whole time??? What?????)

Nico and Annabeth: Oh I guess you didn’t have a crush on me then. Well. Good for you anyway *high five*

Nico and Will: SOLANGELO!!!!! *rainbow flags*

Nico and Jason: Aw Jason’s so proud of him.

Reyna and Piper: Reyna! Doesn’t! Need! A! Man! To! Be! Happy! She Has Friends! And Two Camps! They can get some sleep now! Wheeeeee!

In Conclusion, the Underdeveloped Relationships Are:

Percy, Piper, & Leo BROTP

Annabeth and Hazel

Piper and Hazel

Annabeth and Jason

Annabeth and Leo

Jason and Frank

Jason and Hazel

Piper and Frank

All in all of the underdeveloped dynamics, you’re really left to believe that they’re just acquaintances fighting in the same war together. And I honestly believe that Rick just gave himself too many characters to work with. That, and tacking on two major characters in the end of the second to last book made a lot of the developments of Blood of Olympus feel rushed and weak. We call them the Seven, but honestly, it’s really the Nine. Part of what I really enjoy about this fandom is that people fill in the gaps and try to make all the interconnected friendships within the nine main characters really strong.

In PJO, there was only one POV- Percy’s- and each book consisted of a core group of three or four characters going on one major quest together. The simplicity of both the narrative and group dynamic made developing character relationships more straight forward. Although the alternating POVs in HoO allows for more complex characterization and group dynamics, it’s a hard ship (pun intended) to handle. The structure of a core group of three characters going on one major quest continues in TLH and SoN, but dissolves when all the characters come together in MoA. The sheer number of main characters mean that characters and character relationships get starved of development. Riordan has himself said that although he loved all his characters, having he regretted having so many.

#percy jackson #heros of olympus #annabeth #annabeth chase #leo valdez #jason grace #Piper McLean #reyna arellano #Nico di Angelo #frank zhang #hazel levesque

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achliegh · 3 years

Text

Golden

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Beta: @the-most-slyterin-hufflepuff & @punkkkboi

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Chapter 5:

Redneck Woman

Red Solo Cup

Eloise smiles as Leo continues to ramble on about these boys who have clearly stolen his heart. She sips her black coffee and sets it down on the counter she is leaning against. Walking over to her offspring, that is a total of two inches taller than her, she kisses his cheek causing him to stop mid sentence.

“Was I rambling too much?” The red appearing on his cheeks made her smile, ruffling his hair that is in need of his yearly head shave. He swats her hand away. “I know it's long but because someone told me how to keep my hair healthy.” Looks pointedly at her as she snorts. “I only cut my hair once a year and it's a full shave.” He sticks out his tongue.

“Who even raised you to be so disrespectful?” She dramatically puts her hand on her chest, then tightens the ties on her robe. Giving him a motherly smile she thanks him as he puts some toad in a hole on a plate for her. “I don’t have my hearing friend in to help me listen to you,” She makes a gesture like she is swooning with her hand on her forehead and her hand fanning herself. “ GuSh, about your hockey boys. But, it is very sweet.”

“I really like them Mama… I think you and Daddy would too.” He focuses on his toast as he takes a bite and brushes the crumbs onto the floor, much to Eloise’s annoyance. She knows this is a sign of him wanting to trust his emotions but doesn’t want to jinx himself.

“Come here, let's get all the motherly squishing done before Clay and… what was his name? Rex?” She pulls him into a tight hug and crushes him in her arms with her old lady strength. He relaxes completely into her and hugs back just as tight but making sure not to hurt her. He makes sure to have his head on her right shoulder so she can hear him.

“Reg, his name is Regulus but we call him Reg. I think you should try and adopt him like you did with Clay. Pseudo Mother is just your personality now that you are so old.” He squeaks and gets out of her death grip hug as she pokes his ribs. “RUDE!”

She is still cackling as Clayton bursts through the door announcing his entrance, running into the kitchen.

“I smell food!” He hops on the counter and begins earring Leo’s breakfast. She pats his knee with a happy yet defeated look on her face. She has told him so many times not to climb on the counters that cost more than some people's entire house. “Mm! Ma, meet Reg.” He gestures to a boy who looks like he feels entirely out of place, she was going to tell Clay off for talking with his mouth full but she has a new mission now.

Protect this kid.

After making a mess and eating, Clay and Leo go out to load the trailer and Horses up for the drive to Texas where the rest of their team already is. Eloise has started on the dishes and looks over to Reg and nods him over.

“You know how to rinse dishes?”

“No Ma’am.” She smiles at him and pushes the faucet to face the sink in front of him.

“No need to call me Ma’am, call me Eloise. Now, you just run the dish under the hot warmer and get all the suds off. Make sure I don't miss any food or spots because I am just a helpless old lady at the end of the day.” She gets a small smile to form at his lips as she shows him exactly how to rinse. An easy task, but one that he was never taught. That triggers something in her head that makes her think he was told he only has one purpose in life. No one only has a single purpose in life. “Who are your parents Reg?” She notices him tense at the question and immediately regrets asking.

“Orion and Walburga Black.” Simple and straightforward answer. He doesn’t want to talk about them. She nods and hums in acknowledgement. Passing the last few dishes in silence, she drains the sink and turns to look at him.

“So, what did Marigold and Bluebell tell you to convince you to come with them this summer?” She smiles at him as his whole demeanor changes. He smiles that same small smile but he visibly relaxes.

“First off, Marigold… Bluebell? What the fuck kinda names are those.” Eloise laughs in surprise. “Second, we watched tiktoks half drunk together for two hours while the rest of the team socialized.” She nods her head, that does sound like what those two would do. “And Third, I have been needing to get away from my brother and his boyfriend so they can boink in peace and not have to worry about me hearing.” He looks at her and his smile drops off his face. “Sorry, Leo told me you were laid back and I thought it would be alright to share this type of stuff with-”

“Reg I think you are a wonderful man who is going to keep those two pea-brains in line while on the road. Maybe loosen up a little yourself.” She smiles. “Is it alright if I give you physical affection? I tend to be a touchy person and not realize it.” He pauses for a moment and then nods, she pats his cheek and smiles as the other two walk back into the kitchen.

Reg is still a little stunned when Clay throws his arm around his shoulder and jostles him around.

After kisses and hugs goodbye Leo hops into the driver's seat, Clay in the passenger and Reg in the middle seat of the back. Reg has barely seen a truck in his life but this vehicle was fucking huge. Giant. Thicc some might say. The first few hours of driving was a podcast that Clay was in the middle of listening to when he picked up Reg. Once that ended Reg descended into music hell.

He has come to the conclusion that most country songs are about the three G’s.

Guns, God, Goodies (meaning like titties)

He was absolutely taken aback by how Leo was screaming, we can’t call it singing its terrible, these songs that are the complete opposite of him. Clayton at least liked goodies. There was one song that will probably stick with Reg his entire life. Redneck Woman by Gretchen Wilson.

Holy shit. When that song came on it was like Leo and Clay were having a contest of who could sing it the loudest. So, Reg decided that for his first check in with the team. Which Sirius was making him do because he is paranoid. Reg decided he would turn around in his seat and film a video of him painfully smiling and giving a thumbs up to the camera as Leo and Clay scream at each other.

“I’M A REDNECK WOMAN AIN’T NO HIGH PRICE GAL!”

Clay sees Reg recording and flips off the camera still singing. An hour later they pull up to this massive ranch style AirBnB with stables and all. It must have cost a fortune. Reg hops out of the truck and feels out of place, Yeehaws everywhere. Okay, there were like three of them and this giant man with long hair and a braided beard, covered in tattoos just reading a book on the front porch.

“That's our tattoo artist, he travels with us because he is the only person Leo and I trust to tattoo us. You’d like him, his name is Hagrid. But, no time to chit chat! We need to teach you some of the basics, we’ve got a rodeo in two nights. I am competing on Leroy and Peanut is just here for fun. How about we teach you how to care for them a bit?” Clay smiles at him and Reg remembers he is with people who want to be friends with him… for him. Not because of hockey or his family, not because his brother made them. Just for him. Reg went willingly with Clay to watch Leo as he led the horses one by one out into a pen for them to roam around in for a bit.

Clay went into more detail about how they care for them and what he thinks Reg can do. It was night already so they decided to go inside, Leo asked around to see what people were hungry for and made almost anything after someone had got groceries.

“I didn’t know you could cook.” Reg was sitting across the island from Leo as he finished up the food, having watched him make the entire meal.

“Mama taught me how to cook when I was younger, it was the one thing I did that wouldn’t get me in trouble with the law.” He rolls his eyes at the thought of the sheriff and Reg decides not to press. “What do you want to do tomorrow while Clay practices?”

They got wasted. Mostly on jello shots, Leo taught Reg the trick: rim job, blow job, swallow. Leo had promised the boys he would call them, he didn’t want to do it drunk but he misses them like crazy. Drunk or not he was going to call them. So, there he is sitting on the balcony out of his bedroom waiting for them to answer. Finn picks up first, shirtless and sweating.

“Okay Finn, I love this” Gesturing in a circle at Finn who just smiles out of breath and wipes his face with a towel. “But I need you to calm down, because I’m a little tipsy and that means I’m very horny.” He smiles when Finn laughs.

“Well I’m glad to know that even on truth serum you find me attractive.” Finn sets his phone down but props it up on some books as he finishes his warm down stretches from his run he just came back from.

Then Logan picks up, in Leo’s T shirt he left for him last time. It was baggy on him and his hair was messed up from sleeping. The side of his face is a little red and there are lines from his pillow squished into his face. He sleepily smiles at the camera.

“Hi Leo.” Leo groans in response and leans his head back.

“You two are gonna be the death of me. Fucking Christ.” He signs and looks at Logan who is suddenly bright red but smiling back. “You’re beautiful Sweet Pea.”

“Really?” Logan looks at him with such big unbelieving eyes that it breaks Leo’s heart.

“Mhm you and Finn make my little heart do a pitter-patter every time I think of y’all.” Being drunk Leo’s accent is incredibly thick.

“You sound like a true southern man there, Le. How is Texas?” Finn is sitting on the ground criss cross with his hands resting on his knees. Logan has laid back down and snuggled up with his blanket on his side. “You’ve been there a day right?”

“Yes sir! I have been here for a full 27 hours now and I can say, it ain’t no Louisiana but it’ll do.” He shows off his chipped tooth and hears a trilling sound on his railing and looks over to see a mama opossum with her babies hanging on her back. He smiles and flips the camera. “Look at This Little Mama!” He reaches his hand out and she looks at it suspicious. Logan told Leo to stop and Finn said no, but he knows what he’s doing.

To their surprise, the mama just lets Leo pet her under her chin and Finn takes so many pictures. The opossum lets Leo pet her babies with his finger and he pats her head on last time before he goes inside to flop on his bed.

“So, We’ve been thinking” Leo lifts his phone to be above his face as he slowly starts dozing off. “We want to come out.” Leo’s eyes snap open and he drops the phone on his face, rolling over to his stomach he wiggles his nose as he processes what Finn just said.

“Wait, like all three of us or just your two?”

“Well, we thought we would leave that up to you…”

“I think to start, it would be safest for all of us, if you two came out together first. We can talk about me coming out when I’m done traveling this summer, okay?” They all smile at each other nervously and Finn notices a couple of watery sniffles from Logan, they were going to talk to Dumo and Sirius tomorrow. Maybe then they can talk more.

“Leo, do you want to move in… in the fall? Winter? I mean you don’t have too but I would like it and I bet Logan would too. We miss you.” Finn has his fingers crossed where the others can’t see.

Silence.

“I would love to, let me give you my Mama’s number. She will be so glad to get me out of the house the rest of the year.” He laughs a little, they fall into a comfortable silence and Leo drifts off, fully dressed in his boots and everything. Clutching his phone like he never has.

Finn knocks on the Dumias door the next day. Nervous about this talk they are going to have with the other French speaking people. Finn can’t speak French so he hopes they don’t start speaking it because he will just up and leave. Logan opens the door and Finn can’t help the soppy smile that crosses his face when he sees Logan in his sweatshirt. He wondered where it went. Logan and Him walk into the dinning room where Sirius and Dumo are talking about new plays they want to practice. They look up when they enter the room and stand across from them.

“Dumo, Sirius I need you to mind your fucking business.”

“What he means to say is why did you tell Leo that he hurt Logan?” Finn translated.

“I was the one that hurt Leo! Leo did nothing and you guys fucking made him doubt us even more!” Logan crossed his arms and Finn rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“What? That's why you were so sad? Because of something you did… Logan, I know we sound like broken records at this point but please start talking to us.” Dumo looks at him with a slightly frustrated look in his eyes but also worry. It makes Logan’s skin crawl.

“I think you meant well with the shovel talk, but Logan was the one who broke things off with Leo before it even started. He told Leo we didn’t want him and all this other shit that was Logan being… scared.” Finn feels Logan take his hand and interlock their fingers. He looks at the smaller man and squeezes his hand as a way to say, I’m here.

Dumo and Sirius didn’t get another word in before Logan was dragging Finn out the door. Staying at his apartment for a few days. Lo already has some clothes there and… they had to film something special.

Rodeo the next day went well. The after party was even better.

They were in a large steel building with everyone, concrete floors covered in dirt with people swinging dancing their hearts out. Leo was drinking and Clay was drinking, they somehow managed to lose clay about twenty minutes ago. Reg was getting a facetime from Sirius and answered it so Sirius doesn’t worry, the music is so loud that he can barely hear him until a less background heavy song comes on and Leo is humming it while drinking out of his red solo cup.

“Reg where are you!?” Sirius was yelling because it was so loud and Remus was in the background trying not to laugh.

“I’m at an after party! Are you with the team?” Sirius nods and flips the camera to show everyone and Leo’s eye catches his boys.

“FINN! LOGAN!” He yells super loud so everyone turns to face sirius’ phone. “IF YOU WERE HERE RIGHT NOW I WOULD TOTALLY SUCK YOUR DICKS IN THE BATHROOM! AT THE SAM- CLAY!” Leo sees Clay in the ocean of people and scurries off before finishing his sentence. Reg looks back at his phone and shrugs. Finn and Logan are bright red and getting chirped to hell for sure but the music is so loud that he can’t hear them.

“I’ll call you when I get back to the BnB!” Sirius nods and hangs up. Wrestling two drunk idiots into an uber is fine but getting them out was like untangling headphones that you left in your pocket for three years.

Just legs everywhere.

Hands? Don’t know how to use them.

Braincell? Reg has it.

At some point Clayton started crying because a guy he thinks he has a crush on has a girlfriend and he isn’t Leo so he can’t convince two people to love him. Very dramatic. Leo thinks he lost his phone, even though he gave it to Reg at the beginning of the night, and he is worried someone will find it and steal his nudes for their own. Reg doesn’t even know how to respond to that.

Waking up the next morning. Leo has a mild headache, but nothing that will stop him from driving. It was going to be a good day. Especially when Leo got his phone back and saw a tiktok notification from Finn and Logan.

They came out last night.

Time to wreak havoc.

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #james potter #thomas walker #Clayton Bruss #o'knutzy #o’knutzy #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast

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victoodles · 5 years

Text

I Have no Sweetheart but You (Arthur Morgan x F! Reader)

I’m back on my yeehaw bullshit baybee! Find on AO3!

Escapes don’t come often for Arthur - the weight of others’ expectations fall heavy on his already bad shoulders. Though he bears these burdens (as always) with a slight gruff and a spur of his horse as he goes wherever he is needed or told. On occasion it’s both.

But when he finds himself with a moment of time to call his own, he uses the luxury of choice to spend it with you. There aren’t enough hours in the day he can give to you, but he tries his best despite that shortcoming.

Patience is a virtue, and you are the human embodiment of that sentiment. You never complain, even when he is gone for weeks at a time. His basis for comparison isn’t vast, but he considers himself lucky whenever he catches an earful of the caterwauling Molly directs at Dutch most evenings.

When you hear the rhythm of his horse trotting into camp you are there to greet him with a warm smile, like clockwork. Your embrace bridges the gap between you, making him feel like he was never really gone at all. Arthur doesn’t consider himself eloquent like all those fancy romance novelists, but he thinks you feel like home.

It comes as a surprise when Arthur asks if you would be so kind as to accompany him to the Saint Denis. Your answer is yes, of course, but you hadn’t expected him to make such an offer of his own volition. Usually when he talks about the aforementioned city (to which he considers to be the bane of civilization) his choice of vocabulary is quite...colorful.

You tease him, asking what this stranger has done with the real Arthur Morgan, and he gifts you a hearty laugh. You’ve softened his rough edges; your jests are not taken to heart and he is not crippled with self-doubt. He appreciates this carefree atmosphere you provide, it gives him room to rediscover himself after years of molding who he was to fit certain schemas.

Tit for tat - he promises he won’t tell a certain Mr. Morgan of this illicit encounter; he saw you from across the way and was instantly captivated by your beauty. His heart took over any sense of rationality - he had to have you. He reminds you of the highbrow men you grew up around in the very city he detests, the only difference here is that he’s being genuine. That, and he’s a wanted outlaw. But you choose not to busy yourself with that minuscule detail.

You cast your hand over your chest dramatically, feigning offense. “Why, you beast! What kind of woman do you take me for?” Despite abandoning the life of a high-society woman almost a decade ago, the mannerisms are not forgotten. Arthur isn’t the only one trying to grow from past projections.

Arthur smiles sheepishly, dropping the act, and apologizing for offending his dear lady. He offers you his hand which you gladly take, finding a secure place around his arm. “Just wanted to treat ya to somethin’ nice is all,” he admits as he leads you to his Thoroughbred at the precipice of camp.

He knows you would never concede with the notion, but with all this time away he feels as if he’s been neglecting you. After years of watching John act a fool, dancing around the responsibilities of being a husband and father, he fears he might be looking in a mirror sometimes. What he wouldn’t give so you could have some sense of normalcy in an otherwise hectic life. You always gently remind him normal is rather drab, and his anxieties are temporarily assuaged for the time being.

Calloused hands take ahold of your waist as Arthur effortlessly lifts you onto the back of his horse. The action is unnecessary, he’s aware, but he relishes touching you whenever he can. You know this all too well, and gladly accept his assistance. And they say chivalry is dead.

Arthur finds his place behind you, urging the mare away from quiet campgrounds and towards the hustle and bustle of Saint Denis. He’ll put aside his disdain - you deserve time away from the dirt and debauchery despite your insistence to the contrary.

The ride is peaceful, dusk begins to grace the sky with brush strokes of pink and orange. Clouds nomadically drift along the horizon as Arthur passes the time with languid kisses to your cheeks and the side of your neck. With privacy comes his unrestricted affection. His stubble’s tickle is a more than welcome feeling against your skin.

Smog-riddled skylines of Saint Denis remind you both of your quickly approaching your destination; factory smokestacks paint the picture of civilization’s impending “progression” - much to Arthur’s chagrin. Dirt paths transition into cobblestone-riddled pathways; the steady clop of his horse’s hooves distract him from these unseemly surroundings.

He’s out of his element, he knows this, but he can survive an evening amongst the real wolves. Men in tailored suits with overly coiffed hair claiming to be peddling this and that, all in a pathetic attempt to further their life by ruining another's.

Do your worst - he’s never faced a problem that couldn’t be solved with a bullet from his Cattleman.

In front of him, you look around in a way he could only describe as nostalgic. Despite the foul memories, he can’t take away the fact that this was your home. Arthur wonders when was the last time you freely wandered these streets.

Mentally kicking himself, he doesn’t think he ever bothered to ask. His line of work focuses primarily on the day-to-day and very rarely on the when, where, and why. You understand this.

He recognizes that you don’t miss the lifestyle - a girl raised to become a rich man’s parlor piece. But maybe there’s something here, amongst the glitz and glamour, that a piece of you yearns to be a part of again.

It happened with Mary, who’s to say history won’t spare him from its vicious cycle of repetition.

He briefly entertains the thought, but it’s properly discarded and replaced with the sensation of your hand on his. You squeeze it gently, silently affirming you’re happy to be here - with him.

Joys of civilization be damned.

The sign for La Bastille Saloon is alight for the evening, bulbs twinkling faintly as they prepare to rival the stars above. Arthur hitches his horse before holding his hand out to you for the second time that day. You regard his choice of dining with a tilt of your head and a smirk. A jest of some sort most likely dancing on your tongue already.

“La Bastille? Monsieur Morgan, très bonne!”

Arthur looks at you, befuddled. “T-tray bone?” He could be well spoken when he wanted to be, but Arthur wasn’t very cultured per se. You had to give him credit for trying though, the poor dear. A light peck on his lips will suffice. He certainly appreciates it.

“It’s French,” you explain, which does nothing to alleviate his confusion.

“I’ll take your word for it princess,” he chuckles dryly as he lowers you from the saddle.

“Merci,” you continue to tease, playfully sticking your tongue out at him. He guffaws at your impishness as you head for the saloon- tit for tat.

La Bastille exudes old-money sophistication. A place of luxury meant only for those born into the lifestyle. Posh men and women bid you both bonjour as Arthur leads you inside by the small of your back. He pays them no mind - this is a foreign game and he has no interest in learning the rules.

The setting sun against the stained-glass windows casts an array of dulled colors against the polished wooden floor. It’s a pretty sight - Arthur momentarily feels at peace.

Obnoxious chatter about local politics and the burdens of the wealthy reminds him of where he is. While it can be nice to see how the other half live, it quickly becomes grating. He needs a drink.

In standard Arthur fashion, he pulls out your chair and you settle into a small table with a streetside view. You lean back against the plush velvet, smiling to yourself as Arthur walks briskly to the bar for a well-needed whiskey.

It’s a wonder he manages to catch the eye of the barkeep at all. There’s some washed-up socialite squawking in his ear about the city’s imminent regression into an uncivilized ruin. An attitude Arthur can agree with, though he wishes it would happen sooner rather than later.

Arthur finally gets his opportunity to order, and promptly returns to your side with a flute of champagne in hand. Your eyes light up, thanking him sweetly as you take the glass. He grins, agitation washed away as he sits down across from you. With your company always comes a sense of relief; the crosses he bears feel lighter.

He extends his glass towards your own and your smile only widens. You lean forward, elbow perched on the table with your chin in your palm. “What would you like to toast to, Mr. Morgan?” You ask him coyly, idly swirling your drink around. Again he responds with genuine, albeit rare, laughter.

“How about,” he pauses to mull over his words. There’s a list of things he’d like to celebrate, to verbally reaffirm he’s grateful for. Living to see another sunrise, the gang and their health. But ultimately he decides to go with-

“Us.” It’s the one that feels right.

You’re beaming at this point as you raise your glass.

“To us.”

The two of you officially start the evening with a harmonious clink.

***

“A-and I told the purty lady tha’ Micah, the s-slithery snake, had said some ‘ungentlemanly’ things bout’ her.” Arthur emphasizes aforementioned things with air quotes. He takes a generous swing of his whiskey and proceeds with his drunken tale. You’re hanging onto his every word.

“She practically had STEAM coming out er’ ears when she got to the bastard. Slapped him s-SO hard, Micah blacked out! Went down like a sack o’ b-bricks!” Arthur exclaims. You squeak in surprise before taking a less than dainty sip of your fifth helping of champagne. You’ve lost count for your cowboy.

Arthur looks side to side, checking if the coast was clear. “Now don’t go tellin’ nobody darlin’ but,” he hunches over the table and whispers, “I lied to that gal. I jus’ wanted to see her mess Micah up somethin’ fierce.” You put a hand over your mouth to contain the onslaught of giggles that wrack your chest.

“Arthur! Tu es un coquin,” you chide playfully. He responds to your “scolding” with a chuckle of his own - you had taught him some French over dinner. He had to admit he found the language rather beautiful. Or maybe it was you speaking it that he found to be beautiful. He quickly concludes it was the latter.

A lively tinkle of piano keys suddenly catches Arthur’s ear. The pianist plays a jaunty tune with a gusto that has him tapping his foot in tandem. He never thought much of those fancy records Dutch played, but there was an undeniable wonder that live music encapsulated. “Well would ya listen to that darlin’,” he says with an impressed whistle. You’re clapping along softly as well, delighted with Arthur’s childlike fascination.

“I used to play you know,” you say with a swell of pride. While almost nothing in your youth was learned voluntarily, you are grateful for your musical prowess.

The sillies come back full swing when Arthur’s eyes widen and his mouth gapes in awe. “You used to tickle the ivories?!”

“I dabbled,” you shrugged nonchalantly, biting your lip to refrain from grinning madly. “Piano and violin.” Arthur looks at you like you’re otherworldly. Your cheeks are heating up from the intensity of his gaze.

“Darlin’ you,” Arthur is rendered speechless for a beat, “you are incredible.” His sincerity is palpable, it practically sweetens the last drops of your champagne. Your blush spreads when his hand finds yours, softly tracing your knuckles with his thumb.

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear shyly. The more delicate sides to Arthur’s nature are reserved for you (and occasionally Jack). But regardless of your exposure, you still feel the fluttering of your heart like that of a lovesick schoolgirl. “Arthur,” you say his name so melodically each time, he can hardly believe it belongs to him.

He interrupts you (unintentionally) when he notices you’ve both topped off your drinks. “Oh! It looks like we’ve run dry,” he pushes himself up and gathers up both of your glasses. “I’ll go fetch us some more.” You reach for his arm, hoping he’ll let you pay for this round. He’s old fashioned, in a good-hearted way, and simply won’t hear it.

“Now you just stay here and keep our seats warm, princess,” he says with a quick kiss to your cheek. Arthur swaggers away before you could try to get smart with him. You opt to blow a raspberry at him instead.

You turn to the streets outside your window. Evening had cascaded into night, the end to yet another day. Shop owners had closed up and were hurrying home to their wives, beggars to their respective allies. Everyone seemed to have a routine, a place to be. You were born here, yes, traversing these streets countless times as a girl. Yet now you felt like nothing more than a ghost - a mere drifter.

How passing strange.

“Goooood evenin’ ladies and gentlemen!” Arthur’s booming voice pulls you from your thoughts. You whip your head around to find him standing atop the saloon’s grand ebony piano. His quest for drinks apparently abandoned, as evident by the two empty glasses left on the stairs. You’re no match for the giggles this time around.

The bar is eerily silent. Everyone directs their attention at Arthur, expressions ranging from horrified to absolute bewilderment. The ex-starlette nested by the bar actually looks amused for the first time all night. An unsure pianist holds a crisp dollar bill from Arthur as he awaits further instructions.

“I wanna sing a ditty for that,” he points to you, “pretty lil’ peach o’er there!” All the women look to you, wanting to satiate their morbid curiosity and practically shaking from secondhand embarrassment. How would a lady respond to such an inebriated act of buffoonery?!

You’re certainly no caliber of lady they’ve ever seen.

Much to their surprise, you’re positively radiant during Arthur’s pleasantly uncharacteristic address. He very much was the type to speak softly and carry a big stick. But with the help of some liquid courage, he’s publicly showcasing his devotion like the fool in love he is. It’s a good look for him. Arthur smiles from ear to ear, blowing you a kiss. He turns back to the pianist and nods, being counted in by a few gentle chords.

“I have no sweetheart but you, dear. You are the one that I love.”

You audibly gasp at his choice of lovers’ ballad, a sensual tune that had many a young girl dreaming wistfully about romance. While Arthur’s rough, low slurring isn’t what the composer had in mind, the allure isn’t lacking. A few of the previously judgmental women (though they would never admit it) seemed to turn envious at the attention you were receiving. Some unlucky husbands were definitely in for it tonight.

You pay the pettiness no mind, you’re too focused on your own personal performer.

“Close to my heart I would hold you, there where the roses once grew. While in the silence I told you, that I had no sweetheart but you!”

Arthur feels strangely lighter, unburdened by his role in the gang - in the world even. Pinkertons, Cornwall, Dutch, it all fades away. There’s just you and him - a man and a woman in love. Simplicity has never sounded so divine.

“Say that you always will love me. For I have no sweetheart but you.”

You’re already cheering before Arthur can bring his song to a close. It encourages a handful of others to also applaud, paired with some catcalling from a certain regular near the bar. Arthur has never been fond of being the center of attention, but right now you swear he’s thriving in the spotlight.

He’s reveling in it, until he isn’t.

Arthur is swaying atop the piano, his balance leaving him as all that alcohol finally takes its toll. He’s an imposing fellow, but the cruel mistress called whiskey can knock any man down. Literally.

The pianist pushes away from the piano, fearing not just for his nerves but now his physical well-being should this cowboy collapse on him.

To Arthur’s credit, he doesn’t.

“Thank yew and g’night, Saint Denis,” he says woozily just before he falls to the floor with a hard thud. You yelp in shock as you shoot up from the table, knocking your chair over in the process. Saloon patrons don’t know who to watch at this point. Arthur, flat on his back mumbling dreamily to himself. Or you politely shoving your way through a throng of people to reach him. They soon decide to return to their own evenings, having been involuntary participants in your own for long enough.

You take a quick detour to clumsily toss a few coins the bartender’s way. At this point, a bed for the night is not a choice but the only option. Arthur decides he must be the luckiest man alive as he sees not one, but two of you heading his way.

#vic's fics!#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #i love one (1) cowboah #he's so soft and deserves all the kisses

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damnthoseyes · 5 years

Text

Discreet

A/N: Hello hello! It has been a long time since I wrote anything but my lovely angel, nearly daughter, tiny yeehaw Alyssa (@moonlitzabdiel) set up a writing challenge and I actually felt inspired. Congrats Alyssa!! Here is what my twisted little mind came up with. As always, please do let me know what you think! xxx

Words: 700+

“I wanna give you whatever you need but we gotta be discreet. Baby, you gotta control it, I need you to hold it” Cierra Ramirez - Discreet

Twelve year old me would be proud.

I have everything I’ve ever wanted.

An amazing career, an opportunity to see the world, anything I could ask for, and I’m in a great relationship. I’m totally and completely in love. I’ve never been happier. What more could I want?

Well, there is one thing.

I wish we didn’t have to hide.

I wish I could proclaim to the world that I’m in love and happy and that this could be it.

But I can’t.

Everyone around us tells us we’re better off keeping things private. Whether it’s because they learnt the hard way and don’t want us to get hurt, or because they’re just looking out for us. It’s always the same thing. They always say “it’s better to keep it to yourselves”, or “keep your private life private”, or “the people around you know and that’s enough” but it’s not about other people knowing.

I don’t want to have to have this secret anymore. I don’t want to have to run into buildings to avoid people seeing us together. I don’t want to see the flirty messages anymore. Part of me knows they’d probably send them anyway regardless of if they knew we were together or not but still.

I want to hold hands and walk down the street. I want to kiss wherever I want, whenever I want. I want to go on cute dates. I want us to come home to each other every day we’re in the same city and go out to dinner without it being an issue. I want to post the hundreds of pictures of us in my phone instead of scrolling through them all the time and wishing.

Pictures of us on holiday, kissing in front of monuments and sunsets. Stupid photos taken on lazy days in sweats with no makeup. Kissing each other’s cheeks with cute filters and big smiles.

How hard would it be to post one? Would the world really come to an end?

If anything, I’d want a picture of us to come from me, not some photographer looking for a pay day. It’s exhausting running away from them. They’re in front of every hotel, venue, radio station, even in the airport.

I hate constantly looking through magazines, tabloids and every “celebrity update” website known to man to make sure there aren’t any pictures of us. Reading tweets about fan theories with a base level of panic at how close they could be.

I just want to be free.

We saw Once Upon A Time In Hollywood the other day and I couldn’t help the jealousy that came over me at the start of the movie where they’re walking through the airport, holding hands and people are taking pictures of them as they make their way out. I just wish that could be me.

Don’t get me wrong, I knew what I was walking into. When we met, I thought it would just be a fling and wouldn’t have to worry about it, but as time went on and our feelings grew and we knew this was more than we thought it was, then the pain came in. The lying, the hiding, the sneaking around. It feels like we’re teenagers but we’re not scared our parents will kill us, we’re scared one of us is going to get hurt.

I’ve been staring at the same photo for at least ten minutes.

We’re in Disneyland wearing Mickey and Minnie Mouse ears, kissing and giving the camera the bird. I love this photo. We’re smiling and you can tell we’re happy. Wrinkles around our eyes and magic eight ball on full display.

I can have everything I could ever want. All I have to do is ask. That’s the way it has always been since we got together. I want this. Why can’t I have this?

Should I do it?

What’s gonna happen?

People will get over it eventually, right?

The Instagram app is looking pretty good right now.

Fuck it, I’m doing it!

Why are my hands shaking?

Should I put a filter on it?

Yes, okay perfect!

Done! It’s over! That wasn’t so hard.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relieved than I do now.

I can finally breathe.

Looking up at the ceiling with my phone locked and on my chest doesn’t make me feel terrible right now.

Ugghh who the fuck is texting me already?

Oh fuck.

Girl baby 😘💕💖: Chris, what the fuck did you do?!?!?!?!?!?!

#writings #alyssawc #cnco imagine #cnco one shot #christopher velez #christopher velez imagine

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himsfuntime · 4 years

Text

Obsession

You can find this fanfiction on my Ao3

Expect a LOT more content for him, I really love him SOB

Roleswap Yeehaw Ramsey belongs to @spliinkles

also sorry if it is not the best, this is my first fanfic

I do not support or condone any yandere or obsessive behavior.

Warnings

character death

cursing

There were only two types of love, obsessive and pure.

And yours, was the latter. It was soothing to have such a loving and caring person that loved you. On your good days and on your bad days.

There was nothing more, nothing less. So when you saw your lover covered in solid gold and an envelope with a heart taping it shut, you thought you were seeing things. You rushed to their side as your mind tried to scramble for answers: Why would someone do this? Who would do something like this?

During your sobs you were caressing your lover’s cheek, and that's when you felt it, that engraving on their face. You wiped your eyes and looked closer, examining the carving, it was sloppy but the hand-writing looked all too familiar.

Ramsey Murdoch

“ Ramsey did this..? ”

You softly said aloud, it wasn’t meant to be a question, it was confirmation that what you were looking at was his doing. Of course you already knew who did it, his signature carved on your darling’s metal cheek. You should’ve known better.

You should’ve never tried to show kindness to such an evil man.

You remember when you met him. The infamous Ramsey Murdoch.

He came to your job, as if it were his own house. Like he owned it. You just thought he was a cosplayer that had a little more pride than he should have. You took the time to look at him. A poncho covered most of his upper body features. Under his poncho however was an open button shirt, but when you squinted, you noticed it didn't have buttons in the first place.

His pants held up with a gold buckle belt. The pants trailed from his hips to his ankles along with triangular tassels following the trails. His heeled boots clicked and jingled against the store floor.

He started to hum a soft tune as he examined the decor, drawing out the time before he got to your post.

Though his slow, long strides were more than intimidating. He must've known you were eyeballing him as he turned slightly and met your gaze, smirking as he strolled to the counter. He leaned forward and eyed you up and down, inhaling your scent. You raised a brow at the odd behavior but you asked him the essential question nonetheless.

“May I help you?”

You ask, giving him a smile. You promised your darling that you’d try to be nice for the week. This man was lucky not to get a snarl after the whole ‘walking slowly and then sniffing you’ ordeal.

He blinked a bit at your question. He wasn't expecting you to not be cowering in fear, you guessed. He was at a loss of words, he really wasn't expecting your kindness. You snorted a bit, your smile becoming more genuine than forced. Maybe this non-forced kindness might be a good thing.

Even after his little taken aback expression, he carried conversation with you well enough to get your name. He came back, every time earlier than the last. To the point almost everyday he was in your store, talking to you. He eventually told you who he was, you were open minded about it. Just like your significant other always said:

‘Everyone has a good side even if it is mixed with the bad.’

So you stuck with that, and eventually, you started seeing his small acts of kindness. Under that smirk was a man looking for someone to share his life with. You were ecstatic to tell your lover of how you’ve made a friend with a bad-person-who-might-still-have-a-chance-to-be-good but you couldn’t. Because when you came back they were fucking dead.

Oh how naive you were, thinking those visits and those conversations were just harmless interactions. You were feeding an insatiable hunger for love by a lonely rat faced man .

You ran a finger across the gold, slowly as if your touch would retract the harm that has already been done. They were so good to you, always the best for you despite you trying to push them away. They were always waiting with open arms, and you ran into them, you embraced them. Easily you fell for them, their kindness and eagerness to help clashed with yours. You took them for granted, they were taken from you, all because of-

“ The one and only! ”

A deep, sultry voice chirped from the darkness as it emerged to the light illuminating the room. His heels softly jingling and clicking onto the floor. His figure came into view, his poncho opening as his hands raised as he slowly bent down, crossing his foot over the other.

He was … bowing?

What in epithet’s name gave him any sense to do something like that? And peek his head up with a smile like he didn’t just murder the love of your life?! You clenched your fist, your aggression showing as your nails dug into your palm.

“ I’m guessin’ ya saw my present?---- ” His eyes motion to the body of your most likely deceased lover. You glare at him, parting your lips to speak only to say nothing as you were cut off as if he never paused in the first place.

“ ---Did ya read the letter, doll? ” His voice sounded like he was holding in excitement, as if this was normal to him. As if seeing the dead body of your lover was equivalent to being given a puppy for Valentine's Day. You never broke eye contact to grab the letter, so your hand scrambled to find it. When it did come in contact with paper, you snatched it up and opened it and pulled a folded note from the pocket. Your eyes skimmed the paper before sternly returning to him. He didn’t seem too pleased with this as his smirk faltered. He huffed, arms up in defeat, rolling them as he turned around.

“ Will ya read it now? ” He snorted, you finally tore your eyes off him to really read the letter.

God, did you regret that decision.

Before you could even read the first word, Ramsey was already sitting behind you, legs crossed with you in his lap. His whip on his thigh as a subtle reminder that you shouldn’t dare try anything. You immediately thrashed and kicked, trying to shove this monster off you. You didn't notice you were crying again until you opened your eyes, met with a bare chest. Soothing backrubs as a soft hum rumbled the chest you were leaning on. You almost succumbed to the comfort. Up until you noticed it was that that fucking monster cuddling you like he never did what he did. Like he didn't take the love of your life away from you and everyone else in their life.

You shoved away from him wanting nothing more than for him to leave you be. Let you at least recover from this ache in your heart. Since this caught him off guard, you sprinted out the door. Running and running while turning back to see if he was following you.

You darted towards a populated area so it was harder to find you. Bumping into others and yelling out your apologies to them as you dashed passed them. You saw your store and bolted for it, gripping the handle and yanking it in hope it would open to no avail. You pat yourself for your keys and fumble to get them out your pocket. Shaking from the fear and adrenaline of getting caught from him.

You quickly shut the door and lock it behind you, a soft jangle hitting the floor once you were darting for the counter and ducking behind there. You silently scrambled for a weapon, finding a wrench. You let in air that you didn't know you never inhaled. Your chest rising falling as you panicked, what if he found you? Fuck that, what was he going to do to you if he did?

Deciding it would be best to stop your overthinking before it gets you caught and you’ll have to live that nightmare, you try to distract yourself. Yet before that even is a possibility, you heard soft humming coming from outside your store. You cautiously peek over the counter, before you, outside your store doors people were encased in gold. All frozen in place, all staring at.. You?

Before you even had time to process what had been done somet--rather-- someone, fell from above. They were kneeling, their hum filled the place as they rose to their feet. That’s when the hopelessness set in, when your eyes met a signature gold eye. A frown etched on his features as he stalked towards your shop.

“ STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME YOU FUCKING MURDERER! ” You yell, vice grip on the wrench in your hand. Your eyes locked with the male who didn't say a word as each jingled step caused the ground beneath his sole to turn to gold. You were shaking, the only relief from the tension you got was when he grunted as he tried to open the unlocked door. He tried again, his gloved fist banged onto the glass as gold spread quickly. He removed his hand from the now golden surface, as he took in a few breaths. You must have been too scared before but under his hat his usually combed down hair was disheveled. As his breathing turned more rigid, he took his face into his palms and let out a yell.

“ FUCK! ”

He screamed, kicking and stomping down on golden pedestrians. You felt slight empathy for the man as he had his rage but it was short lived before he turned back towards you. This time you saw it in his eyes, the pain, the hurt, the madness and the.. love in his deadly gaze. He spit onto the ground, turning whatever the spit hit into gold. He squinted, walking back towards the store. Instinctively you raised your arm ready to either throw or clobber him with it. You thought he’d get more mad, but he wasn't even fazed. You hesitantly followed his gaze, seeing it lead to a door in the backroom.

“ Don’t you fucking dare.” You warned when he stared back with his intimidating eye contact, but before you could move, he was already gone and out of your view. You run to the backroom, pressing your body to the door to try and add weight to the door. You patted yourself for your keys, only to feel your heart drop when you remember in your hurried scramble you dropped the keys near the door of the shop.

While you were distracted, the door swung open and you were just lucky enough to get out the way just in time. You scramble to your feet but before you could even move, something wrapped around your waist tightly and painfully as you tried to fight against it. You were yanked into the embrace of a desperate, love rat named Ramsey Murdoch.

“Oh, sweetpea, you scared me so much.. I thought I'd never get you back in my arms!” He exclaimed, nuzzling into your shaken form.

“ If you even conjure another disgusting thought of leaving me, ” He started, his voice becoming flat as a soft growled accompanied the words.

“ I’ll take your pretty lil’ legs for so long you’ll forget how to walk. ” His grip was suffocating, and his tone was serious. You wanted to fight and shove him off but this dread you felt overwhelmed any fighting sense you had. He nuzzled into your hair, silently smelling your locks as your shoulders dropped. You’d succumb for now. Make him feel like his sick fantasy was real. You felt a finger guide your head up, your eyes locking with his gaze again. His smug grin and half lidded eyes may not have looked like much to others, but to you? That eye, it had a different sort of love for you. One you were not prepared for.

Obsession

#first fanfiction #swap ramsey #yandere swap Ramsey be hitting different #dont mind me just obsessing over a fictional character #yandere swap ramsey #yandere rat man #role swap ramsey

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