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somewhatgreatexpectations · 3 years

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Don't Go (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello!

Double Lizzie!

Um... Once again, brace yourselves. Enjoy! :)

“There’s something you should know.” The feel of Wanda’s hand in your own usually brought you comfort, but the anxiety of revealing your history overpowered the comfort. You couldn’t even find it within yourself to meet her eyes. The beautiful emeralds that had begun to feel like home. You couldn’t lose that. You couldn’t lose her.

You were terrified.

A soft squeeze from Wanda’s hand reassured you. “Okay. What is it?”

Even as the silence stretched into minutes, Wanda didn’t push you as she seemed more than content to move at your pace. You couldn’t have been more grateful for her.

The thoughts in your mind were a blur. You couldn’t even think, let alone try and put your past into words.

Words that wouldn’t end in her leaving at least.

“I want to talk about what happened without mentioning how much it hurt.” Wanda’s brows furrowed in concern at the cryptic nature of your words. “There has to be a way to talk about this without reopening these wounds. To talk about the pain without allowing it back in.” You finished quietly, your gaze fixed on a spot on the floor.

“Y/n, you’re starting to worry me.” Wanda’s words were gentle, but you heard the anxiety that was beginning to creep beneath the surface.

Taking a steadying breath, you turned to face her. You wanted to smack yourself when you saw the worry that you instilled in her. The smile that she easily wore moments before, long gone. “It’s about Leigh.” You finally breathed out.

Wanda’s expression grew curious because Leigh had always been an elusive topic for you. “What about Leigh?”

You began playing with her fingers to distract yourself. “About our past. The long story that I promised I would tell you one day.”

Her brows furrowed at your tone of voice. The blood pounding in your ears made it almost impossible to hear her. “Let’s hear it.”

Dread made your stomach churn as you pushed forward, knowing once the words were out in the open there would be no turning back. “Leigh is my oldest friend… But she was more than that. She always was.” You swallowed past the lump that had formed in your throat, your gaze now locked on your lap. “She was also my first love.” You said simply, knowing it wasn’t enough.

It wasn't enough but it was the beginning of everything.

There was a brief moment of silence, but Wanda’s hand remained steadfast in yours. The fact that she hadn’t tried to pull away yet put your mind at ease. “You dated?”

You drew in a sharp breath, knowing the further you delved into the past the more complicated it got. “Not exactly. I was in love with Leigh since the moment I had known what love was. She was my first love, my first… everything.” You continued somberly. “I was hers too, I think. But we never dated, we did other things but never more. We were always scared of ruining our friendship by turning it into more and by the time I was ready to take the risk, she had already met Matt. I lost my chance to be with her… actually be with her.”

You refused to look up, not sure if you could handle seeing anything but brightness in Wanda’s eyes. “Going through the process of helping her with her wedding destroyed me because I couldn’t help but think that it should have been us. On the day of her wedding…” You took a shaky breath as you recalled the fateful day, feeling tears bubble in your eyes at the thought. The pain came back in waves. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stand there and watch her marry someone else without knowing…”

Wanda’s soft fingers gently brushed away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “You told her.” She said softly, beginning to piece together the story.

“I did. Sweeping declaration of love. I asked her to choose me. To run away with me... I think you can guess who she chose.” You shut your eyes, still shaking away the feelings that resurfaced when speaking about that night. “I didn’t see her for almost two years after that. Matt… passed away about a year in but I didn’t hear about it because I isolated myself, changed my number and everything. When I found out I felt guilty that I wasn’t there for her, but it took me several months to actually reach out. I didn’t see her until almost a year after he was gone.”

Again, Wanda squeezed your hand in reassurance. “But you reached out again, that’s what matters.”

Nervously you licked your lips. “That’s where it gets complicated.” You could feel Wanda shift slightly. “Because I met you almost immediately after.”

For the first time since you began your confession you looked up. Wanda’s expression was stunned, seemingly overwhelmed by the information. “I know the rest now, right?” The question was hopeful and it made your chest clench even more.

Faintly you shook your head. “I-…” Again, you nervously licked your lips, buying yourself time. “I need you to know everything. You deserve to know everything.”

Wanda nodded slightly. “Go on.”

“Leigh and I slept together shortly after you and I met. That was before the night at your spot and-” Your heart sunk when she pulled her hand back. You quickly folded your hands when you noticed them begin to shake. “Last night Leigh-… She confessed that she loves me and we… kissed.”

When her lips tugged down slightly in a frown your stomach dropped. All you wanted was to see the brightness in her eyes again. “Were you with me because I look like her?” She asked quietly.

The insecurity in her words was heartbreaking.

You recoiled at her question, quickly cupping her face in your hands. “No!” You insisted. “Not at all, Wanda! I fell for you because of who you are.”

There was a vulnerability to her eyes that made your heart ache. “Do you still love her?”

“I-I don’t know, Wanda. But I know how I feel about you.” You tenderly ran your thumb along her cheek. “I lo-”

“Stop.” You heart fell. All you could hope was you hadn’t lost her. “Sorry, I just… I’ll be ready to hear those words when you’re not hurting… When you’re sure you love me and just me… The way I love you.”

The quiet admission made your heart race. “You love me?”

Wanda’s eyes were sad, but she nodded. “I love you.” Tears began building in your eyes because you knew you were entirely at fault for her sadness. For this mess. “Only tell me if and when you’re certain of our love. Of me.”

The heavy silence that followed was unfamiliar and excruciating. Fear seeped into your bones at the thought of losing of her. Of this being your last memory of her.

“Please, don’t leave.” You whispered, feeling your heart fracture at the thought alone.

Her lips turned up in a weak smile. “Oh, Moya lyubov’... I could never.”

Without hesitation, you leaped into her arms. Tears of relief falling down your cheeks when she stayed. “I’m so sorry, Wanda. I never wanted to hurt you.”

The feeling of tears falling onto your skin felt like bullets. Wanda was crying, and it was because of you. All you wanted was to disappear and spare her anymore hurt. You never wanted her to hurt.

“There’s no one else I would rather be hurt by. That’s how I know I love you… because if I didn’t I wouldn’t feel like this.” Her words were quiet, shaky. “There is nothing you can do to lose my love, Y/n. I just hope it’s me and you in the end.”

The tears fell faster from your eyes because you wanted nothing more than to reassure her, to tell her that you loved her too, but that didn’t mean you didn’t love Leigh either. “Can we just pretend that this doesn’t exist for tonight? That it’s just us?” You lifted your head to meet her eyes. “Please.”

Wanda pulled away from the embrace and gently caressed your jaw. “For tonight it’s just us.” She responded, drawing you closer as she connected your lips. The rest of the world fell away when she kissed you like this. All you knew was Wanda.

The next morning you awoke to the cold air against your skin and an empty bed. Through bleary eyes you saw Wanda hurriedly getting dressed. “Are you sneaking out?” You joked groggily.

Wanda looked over at you with wide eyes, obviously surprised to see you awake. “Did I wake you?” She asked quietly, kneeling by the side of the bed once she finished putting her boots on.

You shook your head slightly. “No. It was cold.”

Tenderly Wanda stroked your cheek. “I was going to write you a note.” You leaned into her familiar touch. “I have to leave. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Don’t go.” You mumbled. “You just got back last night.”

“I have to.”

You sat up, pulling the sheets up with you. “Why? Why do you have to leave?” Once again, you came to the realization that you never knew why Wanda was always rushing away. “You never tell me why or where you’re going.”

A heavy sigh fell from Wanda’s lips, her eyes troubled. Pained even. “I can’t…” She stood up and turned away from you. “It’ll change everything.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "It'll change what?" Silence. "Wanda?"

A pained expression crossed her features as she began tugging at the sleeves of your sweater anxiously. "I can't..."

“Please.”

For a moment Wanda lingered by the door. “I’ll be back.” You looked away from her, feeling disappointment in the pit of your stomach. Disappointment that she didn’t trust you. Especially after last night. “Moya lyubov’…”

Your gaze stayed locked on the sheets. “What does that mean?”

“My love.” Wanda replied without hesitation.

You lifted your eyes slowly to meet hers, still feeling the disappointment in your chest, but you couldn’t stop the fluttering of your heart at her words. “Hurry back to me.” You quietly murmured.

Wanda’s lips turned up in a weak smile when you repeated the words you’d once told her back to her. She quickly crossed the room, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “As fast as I can.” She whispered against your lips before leaving.

_________________

On tired feet you trudged up the path to your house, dazedly pulling your keys from your pocket. It had been three days since Wanda had left and you were beginning to worry because she hadn’t checked in which she often did.

The situation with Leigh also didn’t help with the anxiety that was running rampant in your mind. You were just grateful that she was giving you space. Though you couldn’t help but worry about how she was doing just the same.

The only reprieve from the madness in your mind was work. That was over now which meant more sleepless nights as you desperately attempted to unpack the emotions embedded deeply within your heart.

“Y/n.” The sound of her voice made you rub at your temples, the feeling of confusion coming back in full force.

When you finally took in the sight of Leigh standing at your doorstep, your heart thudded heavily against your chest. Beautiful as ever.

Heartbreakingly beautiful.

There were bags under her eyes which concerned you, but the tentative smile on her face eased your mind. You didn’t want to be the source of her pain either. “Leigh, hey.” Your gaze fell to the jacket she was wearing. “That- That’s my jacket.” You mumbled, pointing vaguely to the item in question.

Her lips pressed together in an amused smile. “Yeah. It is. I found it this weekend when I was cleaning out my closet.” She shrugged slightly. “You can have it back, I just thought it was comfortable.”

You waved a hand dismissively, tiredly. “S’okay. You can keep it. It looks better on you.” You said through a yawn, your fingers fiddling with your keys.

“I know this doesn’t change anything, but I got you something. Well, two things technically.” Leigh rambled. Seeing her so flustered was foreign, but entertaining.

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help the way your lips quirked up slightly in amusement. “You’re rambling.”

“Right.” She held out a drink container that you hadn’t noticed until that moment. “I know you order green tea when you’re having a good day and herbal tea when you’re having a bad one… I didn’t know how you’d be feeling so I got both.”

Your eyebrows raised slightly and your heart fluttered in your chest. “How did you know that?”

Leigh tucked her lower lip into her teeth for a moment before replying. “I notice everything about you. Even if I act like I don’t.” Her lips quirked up halfheartedly. “Like I know you only started doing this when you spent that one semester abroad and became infuriatingly obnoxious about the quality of tea.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, nodding slightly in agreement. Feeling lighter without even realizing it. “Being abroad did turn me into a bit of a snob.” You took the herbal tea and Leigh’s smile faltered slightly. “Do you want to come inside?”

When she nodded you turned to unlock the door, holding it open for her before stepping in yourself.

Even though you weren’t looking at her, you could feel Leigh’s eyes analyzing you. When you turned to face her, you noticed her smile had faded. “Are you okay?” She asked seriously. You stared back at her, your eyebrows raised slightly. “What?”

“I just- I’m used to being the one asking you that.” You replied honestly. Leigh’s gaze fell to the floor.

A heavy sigh fell from her lips. She looked hurt. “I’m sorry, Y/n.” You shrugged. A tense silence hung in the air. She nodded slightly, her eyes glazed over. “I'm really not a good person anymore.”

You stepped forward in concern, your hand on her arm. “Leigh, it’s fine.” She shook her head. “You’re going through a lot right now. I understand.”

Leigh stepped back slightly. “That’s not an excuse. Stop letting me get away with hurting you, Y/n.” You worriedly watched as her eyes began to glisten. "God, I don't even recognize myself anymore.”

The surprise of her outburst left you dumbfounded, it was like everything over the past few months rushed to the surface for her in that moment. “Where is this coming from?”

“Because I just realized that I’ve been so self-absorbed that the people I love are shocked when I ask how they are! I just hurt them… I just hurt you.” A pained look over came her features as she laughed, though nothing about the sound contained joy. “I want to fight everyone who has ever hurt you, but it was me, wasn’t it? It was me all the time.”

You opened your mouth to speak but she continued on. “I'm sorry that I hurt you.” She rubbed a hand down her face, a quiet groan falling from her lips. “And I did it again. Made this about me.”

“Leigh-”

Her gaze fell to the floor for a moment before lifting to meet with yours once more. “Are you okay?” You hesitated slightly, eyes still worried. Leigh quickly took note of the action. “Don’t worry about me. I'm genuinely asking, Y/n. You look… tired.”

Searching her eyes, all you saw was genuine concern. You sighed. “I’m fine.” Leigh gave you an unimpressed look, so you continued. “I mean, yeah, I’m tired. I’m worried about my clients. I’m worried about you. About-… about Wanda. It’s a lot. But I’m fine.”

Leigh flinched slightly at the mention of her twin but didn’t comment further. The action surprised you. “I know I may not be the ideal person to discuss this with but… You can talk to me.” You shifted uncomfortably. “We all know you’ve been there for me. It’s only fair I return the favor.”

Your heart clenched because this. This Leigh is the one you remember. You almost wished she would be cold again to you just so it’d be easier. You couldn't lose her. You didn't think you could manage a second time. “I appreciate that, Leigh, but I think this is something I have to figure out for myself.”

In response she nodded faintly as silence settled in the air for a moment. You fiddled nervously with the drink still in your hand. “I know this isn’t the best time, but I’m worried there might not be another time.” She paused slightly. “Can I say something?”

“Leigh-” You began, feeling the weight push down even further on your shoulders as you anticipated her next words.

“Please.” She looked at you with pleading eyes and you nodded in resignation. Leigh took a deep breath. “I… I spent so much time pushing you away that I didn’t realize one day I might succeed. That one day I might push you right into the arms of someone else.”

The sincerity of the words made you slump your shoulders. “Leigh.” You began again.

She shook her head, her hands clenching at her sides as she pushed on. “I know my timing is terrible and selfish, but I selfishly want you. All of you. I’m done running. I'm sorry that it took losing you for me to realize that, but I'll never deny it again just... Don't go.”

Tears built up in her eyes, but she sent a weak smile your way. Your heart broke at the sight. All you wanted to do was take her in your arms and reassure her of your feelings but the raging war in your mind rendered you immobile as you helplessly watched the tears begin to stream steadily down her cheeks.

“I can’t- I can’t promise it’ll be easy because that wouldn’t be honest. And I can’t promise I’ll be perfect and not push you away at times but damn it, I’m going to love you as hard as I can for as long as I can... If you let me, I won’t let you go again.”

Your heart thrummed heavily against your ribcage. The vulnerability in her eyes broke your heart.

In that moment you realized that it didn’t matter what decision you came to in the end because you’d be breaking the heart of someone you loved and breaking your own in the process.

Part 6!

So... there's going to have to be 7 parts now. I feel like the more I write the more I confuse myself on what final path this story will be taking lol. And you all make such valid arguments for both sides!

Alright, final Team Leigh vs. Team Wanda, go!

P.S. I hope you all enjoyed! I'm excited to read the comments. As always, thoughts and comments always welcome. :)

Tag list:

@khiaraaa-in-spacee // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @halobaby // @madamevirgo // @aimezvousbrahms // @trikruismybitch // @marvels-writings // @izalesbean // @imdreamingblo //@i-choose-you-cyndaquil // @helloalycia // @scarlets-maximoff // @cantcontroltheirfear // @women-am-i-right // @funnysoldier // @myfavoriteficss // @imapotatao // @imagine-reblog // @blackxwidowsxwife // @purplemeetsblue // @cristin-rjd // @ravens-ss // @legaypandaboi

#wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda marvel #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x y/n #sorry for your loss #leigh shaw #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw imagine

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Osborn’s 5✩ Inspiration: Black VS Black [黑色对峙] Date Translation (END 6: Heart-throb)

“Do you really think that I think there’s no helping you?”

*Light and Night Master-list | Osborn’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *This 5✩ Inspiration has 6 Endings!! *Osborn’s tag will be #For Night, For Freedom *Requested by anon! You can check my on-going requests and more here!

✥ Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ★Night★

The cat caused an incident! What should I do?

⊹ Check the fallen model ⊹

I didn’t think too much about it, instead, hurrying over to where the car model had fallen.

I picked it up and inspected the damages.

There was a long crack in the middle and several parts had broken off, scattering compartments all over the floor.

MC: Can this… still be saved…?

Just as I was thinking of how to break this bad news to Osborn, his low voice sounded from behind.

Osborn: What a big commotion.

Osborn: What? Did Mitt get into an accident?

I steeled myself and stopped covering the scene of the “car accident” that had occurred. I got up and handed him the car model that I held.

MC: The “culprit” knocked this car model down and fled.

Osborn frowned, reaching me in a couple of long strides.

He took the model and turned it around a couple of times, observing it with an indifferent look on his face.

MC: Is it too damaged to fix?

Osborn: I can just send it for repairs over the next few days. Let's go look for the cat first.

He calmly placed the broken car model back onto the shelf, taking a “let’s talk about this later” stance.

This model had been placed together with many other car models that looked new, pristine, and without a scratch. Not to mention, the glistening trophy that had been right next to it. A wild guess entered my mind.

MC: Do all the car models here hold some sort of commemorative meaning?

Osborn: Hm? Why do you ask?

MC: I mean, if they are some sort of special memento to you, then they should have been subjected to routine maintenance, right?

MC: If so, then you should also have the tools for it along with any part replacements, yes?

Thoughtfulness slipped into his eyes.

Osborn: You want to help me fix it?

MC: Yeah! That cat was just spooked real bad, and it wouldn’t do us any good if it got a bigger fright the next time and reacted even worse to it if we continued chasing after it.

MC: So, why don’t we leave the cat hunt for later and fix the car model back up first?

MC: Plus, I’m pretty dexterous with my hands. Wanna give me a chance to show you my prowess?

He raised an eyebrow, his pale green eyes glinting.

Osborn: Okay. Here's your time to shine.

Osborn stretched his arms over my head. For a while, all I could see was his broad chest. I felt my breath hitch.

Then, he suddenly lowered his head. His face was incredibly close to mine.

The scent of black cedar assaulted my nose. I blinked. My brain was lagging.

MC: Oh, okay.

Osborn: Take it.

My gaze slid to his hand. Turns out that he’d just been fetching the toolbox that had been in the cabinet above the display shelves.

Osborn: I'm waiting.

I took the toolbox from him and opened it.

I was greeted by a multitude of components in all shapes and sizes. Some of the tools in it were similar to the ones I used when making my designs, but there were also some that I’d never seen before.

I picked up a tool that looked like a cross between a pen and a knife, looking to Osborn for advice.

MC: What's this?

Osborn: An exacto knife. It’s used to cut off excess parts of the joints when required.

MC: Mmhm, okay. I've remembered it.

Osborn: This is a cutting plier, screw sanders, tweezers...

Osborn picked out a couple more tools from within the box and introduced them to me.

Osborn: Anything else you can't recognize?

MC: Not for now.

Osborn: Okay. Then let's remove the damaged compartments first.

MC: Okay.

First, we used a screwdriver to remove the damaged compartments. Then, we replaced them with brand-new spare parts.

This race car model was really different from those being sold out in the market. It was made with exquisite craftsmanship, and its internal makings were far more complicated than I'd initially thought.

When it was time to add colours to it, Osborn prepared the required paints and set them out in measured portions onto the palette with ease and finesse. He smoothly handed me a brush.

Osborn: Do you know how to touch up the paintwork?

I hesitated.

MC: I've painted outfit designs before for design needs, but I'm sure it's completely different from actually painting a model.

MC: I don't know if it works the same…

Osborn: See my demonstration first then.

He dipped his brush into the red paint, carefully painting it onto the model. It came out very uniform and smoothly layered.

I'd stared at him, watching him do it a couple more times. But, no matter how much I watched the same process, I couldn't quite grasp it. Even if I tried mimicking his actions, my paintwork always turned out patchy and uneven.

Osborn laughed, placing his hand over mine and directing the brush I held.

He directed my brush, guiding me on how I should be painting the compartment with a focused look on his face.

It was all serious and business, except… My focus was inevitably drawn towards his movements and breaths.

Osborn: Get it?

MC: Mmhm...

I tried my hardest to remember the way he did it and followed suit. The end result was much smoother than what I'd been accomplishing before.

After the finishing touches were in place, I raised the model and showed it to him.

MC: Like… this? This should be done now, right?

Osborn: Not bad. You've got standard.

My spirits soared at having received such direct praise from him.

MC: Since I'm such an apt learner, how about enlisting my help again the next time you make another model of a race car?

Osborn slightly raised a brow as he contemplated my paint-stained hands.

Osborn: I'll think about it.

MC: Does this even need to be considered?

MC: I'm pretty quick to pick up hands-on skills, not just fixing up models of racing cars! So I'm a fast learner no matter what it is!

MC: You can test me again if you don't believe me!

Just as I was boasting about my assets in an attempt to make myself appeal to him, Osborn's calloused fingers suddenly brushed against my cheek.

The rough texture of the pads of his fingers made my heart skip a beat.

MC: What's wrong?

Osborn: You got something on your face.

I doubtfully touched my face. Suddenly, I pulled my hand away to find my fingers stained with red paint.

Astonished, I look at Osborn's hands, only to find even more red paint on them…

MC: Don't tell me you drew something on it!!

Osborn: What gives?

MC: Hey! You're biting the hand that feeds!

Osborn: Whatever do you mean by that?

Osborn: I'm just adding some blush and colour to your face. Makes you prettier.

I was taken aback, nonetheless.

MC: Okay. Then, I'll add some colour to your cheeks for you!

Osborn: Whoa, hey! Easy!

MC: Nothing you say now is gonna stop me!

I swiftly picked up the brush and dipped it into the paint set out onto the palette, rushing straight for his face.

Osborn quickly reared back, but I subconsciously followed right after his retreat.

And this was how I toppled him down to the ground with him doing nothing to defend himself.

Osborn was astonished. He'd attempted to get back up, only for my other hand to immediately dart out to pin him down by the shoulder.

MC: No moving!

Surprise flashed through his eyes, as his usual impish smile crawled its way back up his face.

Osborn: Wow, what an aggressor.

MC: That's right. Now's my time to retaliate!

MC: No use trying to escape!

I circled the air with the brush, purposefully observing his face to make my mark.

MC: Hmm, what do you want me to draw on you?

Osborn seemingly accepted the fact that he was going to be an inevitable victim of mine since I already had him "pinned" down. He folded his arms behind his head, giving my question some serious thought.

Osborn: An air drawing?

MC: Dream on!

Osborn: Mercy, please. I beg you.

MC: It's too late to be begging me for mercy.

MC: Hmph. Just watch me improvise on the spot~

Just as I was rummaging through my brain for a glimmer of inspiration, a light bulb suddenly lit in my head.

I had an image now: Mitt as it was fleeing.

❖☆———————————★❖

I leaned down, supporting myself on Osborn's shoulder.

Following the curve of his jaw, I applied colour to his skin, drawing a colourful cat.

Osborn had his guard down, seemingly content to watch me work my "artistic talents" with him as the canvas.

The surroundings lapsed into silence.

I was drawing it on with such rapt concentration, yet I was still able to notice his long black lashes and hear his familiar steady breathing ever so clearly. I could somewhat feel the slight rise and fall of his chest.

I vaguely registered our close proximity to each other. My heart seemed unable to settle with the fact that we were so close to each other that our breaths intermingled, clamouring loudly within my chest.

I blinked twice, finishing off the last stroke before getting up and putting some distance between us.

❖☆———————————★❖

Osborn: Done?

I nodded.

Osborn: What do you think of your work of art?

Huh? Is he asking me to rate my own work?

I quickly gave him a once over, only to realize that I'd been distracted at the end, so it'd turned out a little funky. I nearly laughed at it right then and there.

MC: Ahem. I think it's not bad! You've got a big kitty on you now!

He waggled his brows, lazily raising his body halfway back up. His features were suddenly enlarged before my eyes once more as he leaned closer.

Osborn: Happy now?

MC: Mmhm… Pretty happy.

Osborn: Then let me tell you something that'll make you even happier.

He moved even closer, his words gently flowing with the air, wrapping themselves around my ears.

I shuddered as a scalding heat started creeping up my neck.

MC: ...What is it?

Osborn: The other kitty's right behind you.

Mitt: Meow~ Meow~

The last of his words were drowned out by the sudden meowing that sounded.

I snapped out of the trance of the moment, much to my embarrassment. Mitt had actually slinked behind me somehow without my knowing!

MC: Right, we should hurry and catch it before it gets up to no good again!

I quickly climbed off Osborn, flushing red as I fled.

A light chuckle sounded behind me in response.

❖☆———————————★❖

By the time we found Mitt, it was already sprawled out beside the TV cabinet with its paws stuck underneath, fiddling with something in the gap.

Recalling the layout of his living room, I quietly tip-toed and whispered my idea into Osborn’s ear.

MC: I’ll take left, you take right. We’ll pincer it.

Osborn: It’s already here, so there’s no need to go through so much trouble.

MC: Huh?

Osborn: Just wait and see.

Osborn took a couple of long strides forwards in the direction of the cat.

I followed after him, quietly approaching the black cat. However, my attention was suddenly caught by the photo frame that the cat had just been playing with.

Picking up the frame, I carefully observed it…

In the picture were Osborn and a couple of familiar-looking teammates. They’d all had an arm around each other’s shoulder, beaming as they held the same trophy.

Their faces all look much younger… Is this a photo from years ago?

The race car in the background had a red and white body with an orange rear spoiler, similar to the car model that Mitt had batted off its perch earlier.

MC: Don’t tell me… Was that car model made based on this race car?

I was lost in thought when a sudden meow broke my train of thought.

Osborn: Still wanna run?

❖☆———————————★❖

I raised my head to see Osborn with both arms raised, gently holding up the cat in question.

The bright and warm sunlight shone in through the window, carefully outlining his chiselled side-profile and the contours of his muscles.

Although Mitt had already been caught, it still glared daggers at Osborn. It was as if a cat and a human were engaged in a silent battle with each other.

After a while, Mitt seemed to register the fact that it’d lost, meowing pitifully in that soft cry once more.

❖☆———————————★❖

Osborn: Oh? You know how to beg for mercy now, don’t you?

Osborn carried Mitt to the little corner we’d set up for it. Mitt seemingly gave up on the game of chase, lowering its head to eat the cat food that we’d prepared for it since the very beginning.

Watching it eat its food so obediently, I couldn’t help but kneel down and stroke its round head.

Mitt cast a doubtful glance at me, but turned its head, indulging nuzzling itself into my palm.

MC: !

MC: I touched it! How cute…

Osborn: You’re that excited from just being able to touch it?

MC: Yeah. It looked so naughty that I thought I wouldn’t be able to touch it today.

Osborn: It’ll come running up to you for a lick or two so long as you have food.

MC: Then I MUST let it try the wet cat food! Maybe it’ll get closer to me!

I sped towards the sofa and picked up the packet of wet cat food, purposely waving it before its nose.

It couldn’t resist the offered temptation after all. Its soft fluffy paws batted at my wrist as it opened its mouth and cried its pleas.

MC: Okay, okay. Any more and you’ll end up a piggy.

I recalled something after putting away the remaining food. I picked up the photo frame that I’d set down earlier and handed it to Osborn.

MC: Oh, yeah. By the way, this was the photo frame that Mitt was batting with under the TV cabinet earlier. I don’t know where you normally display it.

He took the photo frame from me and glanced at it.

MC: And on that note, I realized that the car in the background looks very similar to the model we just pieced back together. Are they the same?

Osborn: Oh. The model was made according to this race car.

Suddenly, I recalled having seen the highlights of all his races before.

The year and month in which he’d won his first racing championship seemingly coincided with the time that this photo was taken.

My guess had tumbled out of my lips before I could stop it.

MC: Is this the car you drove when you won your first championship?

He quirked a brow.

Osborn: Why, you know me so well.

MC: Then… Is that car model something of a memento from that race?

Osborn: You can say that.

MC: I heard somewhere before that that car’s engine had to be changed out every two races. It shouldn’t be in use anymore, right?

Osborn: The engine exploded on me during that race, so it was only my companion once.

Osborn spoke lightly of it, but thinking of how exciting and terrifying it must have been back then, I couldn’t help but feel my heart sink a little.

MC: I’m glad the car model’s alright. Otherwise, it’d be such a pity for such a meaningful memento to get damaged like that.

Osborn: So I should thank you properly. Is that it?

MC: Huh? Thank me?

He chuckled lightly, his eyes sliding from the photo to my face. He had a slightly flippant look on his face.

Osborn: Weren’t you the one who made that car model more meaningful?

MC: ……

I was taken aback for a bit. I looked at him in surprise, only to find his gaze calm and gentle. There was a smile glimmering within his eyes.

Osborn: You were pretty clever when fixing the model. Why so stupefied now?

As his words sank in, I felt my heart flutter as I realized what he’d meant by having made it more “meaningful”. Something seemed to have filled my heart. It was a little flustering, yet also a little sweet.

I worried my lip and gathered my courage together before looking up to meet his eyes.

MC: Then, that makes me happier now…

MC: Although I didn’t get the chance to sit in on the race of your first championship and cheer you on…

MC: I was still able to piece the model back together and play a part in that precious moment of memory.

Inexplicable emotions surfaced in Osborn’s eyes, and in the next second, his big hand ruffled my hair with a vengeance.

Osborn: There’s really no helping you, is there?

I shyly ducked my head, but I couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from rising.

At this moment, the sun had enveloped us both within its warmth.

The cat quietly ate by our feet, letting out a purr of satisfaction every once in a while.

Slowly but surely, unspeakable feelings started to bloom and spread within the confines of my heart.

I hope, from the deepest points of my heart, that time would always be eternally frozen in this beautiful moment.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 +3 + 4 | Choice: Call Out [呼唤] ⊹Speak⊹

END 5 | Choice: Listen [倾听] ❖ASMR

END 6 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ★Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Freedom⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Prologue)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #For Night For Freedom #黑色对峙 #Black VS Black

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silvanable · 4 years

Note

If request are open, could I ask for Theo, Vincent, Leo, Arthur and Dazai finding out that MC is a manga artist/writer? Thank you so much!!

this is such a cute idea. as an artist and writer myself i take enormous pleasure it writing this and their reactions.

i switched these up a little bit, where the mc is an artist for one, a writer for another, and maybe both for yet another! i hope you enjoy~

↪ GUIDELINES

ー ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

arthur just happens to find out on accident.

he knew that they had their hobbies and never really pried into that, it was something they did in their pastime just like how he was with his writing.

it just so happened to be that he was passing by the parlor when he noticed them inside with... was that his manuscript? and what were those other papers there?

nosiness curiosity got the best of him as he slips into the room to see what the mansion’s little visitor is up to.

he is, for once in his life, quite surprised to find the dear hunched over a pad of paper with a pencil in their hand.

he was quiet for a moment, examining what they were doing— which was clearly not writing— as their instrument moved over the page.

they shifted to look up at his manuscript, flipped a page, and was about to go back to their work when the noticed something from the corner of their eye.

arthur had leaned over the each of the seat, gaze fixed on the drawings in their lap and strewn about the table and seat.

the poor dear practically jumped out of their skin.

“arthur! don’t scare me like that!” they scolded him, face flush as they quickly tried to scramble and cover up their work.

“ah, was just curious to what you were doing, love,” he would flash them a grin and snatch up one of their papers before they could grab it.

“arthur, give it back!” they yelled in protest but he was far too quick for them.

his eyes scanned over the page, taking in the delicate lines of each character’s face and their expression, the texture and the design of the scenery and then his eyes fell to the dialogue...

“is this... holmes?” the genuine curiosity in his voice as he holds the paper out to them.

they try to snatch the page back but he jerks it up out of their reach before they can.

“yes okay! i’m sorry— i just saw your manuscript and i started reading it and... well, i just got inspired.”

now it has him curious and when arthur sets his mind to something, whether it be to unravel a mystery or get his questions answered, he’s going to get those answers.

after some encouragement, they finally admit to being a manga artist from their time— which as arthur understood was a unique artist who creates art to tell a story instead of words.

he is actually quite proud about the fact that his story is what motivated and drew out this creativity in them to the point they wanted to draw a ‘manga’ of his stories.

he absolutely keeps the page and a few other of their drawings he snatched up, every now and then when he’s working he finds himself drifting off to stare at it with a small smile.

ー DAZAI OSAMU

dazai was a writer and it seemed that the newest guest at the mansion was too.

of course, he never seemed to bring that up, as it seemed the writers of the mansion kept to themselves and wrote privately.

that was until the little darling had come stumbling up the stairs with an armful of paper.

of course they had not been looking where they were going, being rather preoccupied with trying to scribble down god-knows-what onto one of the pages, and walked straight into dazai as he was coming down.

he had acted fast, grabbing their wrist before they could tumble down the stairs, but the paper in their arms was less fortunate and thrown into the air.

“if you wanted to see me, ume-san, you could have just said so,” he greeted with his usual light and teasing voice.

the poor dear was flustered and apologizing profusely as they ducked around him, desperately trying to collect all of their paperwork.

well he was not just about to leave them like that, so dazai stooped to help them, only to find when he tried to reach for something they were quick to snatch it away.

the two made eye contact, both a look of surprise, as they stuttered out, “you don’t have to help— i dropped them.”

the reaction was rather cute but also he felt partially responsible, and because of this it became a game of who could snatch up what before the other.

“i— just— thanks, i’ll take those now!” the dear tried to take the papers from his hands once they were all collected, but the vampire danced around them breezily.

“why is toshiko-san so eager to get these back, hm?” he teased, flitting through what he had collected.

at first it was merely to poke fun, as he and arthur were known to do to people like poor isaac, but as he glanced over the notes and what looked like crude drawings he became intrigued.

those piercing golden eyes came up to a rather flustered person across from him, clearly embarrassed at having their work looked at.

“these are quite interesting,” his tone took on a strange seriousness as he handed them back, “what are they?”

even as flustered as the dear is, they take back their papers and shuffle them protectively in their arms, mutter a, “manga scripts and design ideas...”

of course the term was somewhat familiar to him, briefly recalling it being a rising trend before he died.

would become rather curious and invested in hearing about what the dear did in their time, finding it quite interesting that not only were they a writer but worked with artists to translate their stories visually.

ー LEONARDO DA VINCI

leonardo found it quite cute when he came across their little guest in their free time, seemingly distracted by whatever papers they had in their lap and strewn about them.

it was a reoccurring thing to find them like this as he wandered through the mansion on his way to his next nap.

this time though, that building curiosity of what they were doing finally seemed to reach the max and flood over as he approached them.

they did not seem to notice him from their seat on the floor until he was about a hairsbreadth from the side of their face.

“cara mia?” curse love languages not having gender neutral terms in their ear, causing the poor dear to jump out of their skin.

it was a wonder they didn’t headbutt in him the process and they all but threw themself across the floor to create some distance.

leonardo’s laughter was rather helpful to quell their panic, only for it to swift to a soft rage.

“leo— don’t ever do that again!” they scolded but by now the man had been distracted by the papers that had been haphazardly thrown in the dear’s attempt to flee danger.

golden eyes flickered over the pages as he gathered them up, some written over while other seemed to have sketches of what looked like persons.

they were quick to scramble back up to their feet and snatch the papers from leonardo, their face an uncharacteristically bright shade of red as they mumbled out, “they’re not ready yet...”

though their reaction and expression only seemed to encourage the vampire, after all, things that intrigued him he always pursued to understand investigate.

a soft hum escaped his lips as he looked down at them, only to snatch up another set up papers, ignoring the squeaks and protests to ‘don’t read it yet!’.

there was no getting them back at this point, as he used his height to his advantage against them, holding the pages high as he examined him.

and it suddenly made sense, it looked like a script and these little doodles were scenes from the scripts.

“quite creative, your story here,” leonardo handed back the pages to their flustered creator, “what is it?”

they hesitated as them shuffled the papers, hesitating for a moment before quietly, “a manga idea, something from my time, like a visual story.”

if he had not been intrigued before leonardo most certainly was now and he wanted to know exactly what sort of story they were making.

of course, he doesn’t push but he is more than willing to lend an ear for them to listen to the passionate and eager descriptions of their characters and, if needed, offer a suggest or two when they’re stuck.

ー THEODORUS VAN GOGH

having the lost pup new guest at the mansion following him while he worked was just a way to keep them out of trouble and help him out.

of course, he had never expected them to take such an interest in art as they had, marveling at every little detail, asking questions when they weren’t with a customer, and practically hanging onto every detail theo would spare.

he would never have guessed that everything they had picked up and learned from him on the job they were translating into their own work.

theo was never one particularly nosy and whatever they did in their spare time was their business as long as it didn’t mess with anything or anyone.

so imagine his irritation when they are late for breakfast and sebastian asks for him to go get them?

he walks in, ready to grab them by the arm and drag them out of their room so he might get the chance to enjoy his pancakes for a few moments of peace.

instead, he waltzes into their room finding them pouring over their desk with numerous pages scattered over the surface and stuck against the wall... and most any available space it seemed.

at first he was ready to ask them what sort of mess they were making but stopped as he began to draw closer and examine what they were doing.

it looked like they were... drawing? not that he would judge their strange style, as he was a promoter of the arts that were outside of the norm.

“oi, hondje,” he calls out to them, placing a hand on their head in a familiar way.

the squeak they make is almost laughable but he doesn’t have the chance before they recover and looking up at him quizzically.

“why are you awake so late?” it was a genuine question.

“late? it’s morning already, did you stay up all night?” theo is quick to shoot back, only to receive an even more confused expression.

that answered his question.

“what are you even working on that you would forget to sleep? i can’t have you dozing off at work you know,” he leans down over their desk and they suddenly get shy.

they are subtle, or at least try to be, as they shuffle papers and cross their arms over them, mumbling a soft ‘nothing’.

theo doesn’t take it though and instead turns his gaze up to the art displayed literally all over the room.

before they can even think to snatch drawings away he’s already asking questions, “did you draw these?”

it takes a moment for them to respond, as they mull over a way to answer, but finally cave in to an explanation.

“yeah, i did,” they paused, expectantly staring but theo only waved his hand for them to continue.

“for a manga—something from my time, they, um, tell stories through pictures,” they explained, spreading out the papers on the desk again, “and i got an idea last night so...”

theo is thoroughly impressed, of course they have to explain further about the detailing and techniques— he’s going to ask after all.

there are times where theo will actually watch them draw, he likes to see artists in their element and this is something entirely new he wants to learn more of.

expect that he will have a sketch or two from them, would deny it, but he keeps it in the breast pocket of his coat.

ー VINCENT VAN GOGH

vincent found it quite enjoyable having another person at the mansion, especially with how they spent time with him.

of course he knew they were an artist too, it had come up one day when they were together, while he was painting and they seemed to be doing something in their notebook.

he had asked about their work and if they would let him see but they seemed to get flustered, so he let it rest, after all he wasn’t going to force them.

but still they came around to spend afternoons together, drawing or painting, in silence with the occasional conversation.

one day that they had stayed out rather late in the garden, vincent hadn’t noticed the time passing until it was too dark to continue.

as he packed up his things, he was talking, but got no response back from his friend, and when he turned around to check if they were gone, he found them asleep on the ground.

he felt rather back for not noticing earlier, seeing as the ground probably wasn’t all that comfort and that they hadn’t said how tired they were— he wouldn’t have asked them to spend time outside if they needed rest!

vincent was quiet as he approached their sleeping form, ready to gently rouse them as he outstretched his hand, but stopped as something caught his eye.

in the evening sun, the pages from their notebook were illuminated by the fading sun.

he didn’t mean to pry, truly, but he couldn’t help curiously picking up the book and examining the pages.

some were full of notes, others these beautiful drawings, and more still with a combination of both.

one drawing in particular had caught his eye, a series of scenes it seemed, of someone who looked a lot like him making his way to the gardens and painting...

“mhmm... vincent?” they peeked an eye open groggily, rubbing their face as they looked up at him sitting beside them.

“is it dark already? i’m sorry i didn’t mean to fall asleep—” they sat up, stretching, only to stop halfway through the motion when they saw their notebook in his hand.

they flushed red but vincent only smiled sweetly as he offered them the book back.

“i like your drawings,” he said softly, “they’re very beautiful.”

they were hesitant but took back their notebook, redder if it were possible, as they mumbled a ‘thank you’.

“who were the other people in your drawings?” vincent asked as he stood, holding out a hand towards them.

“uh, well,” they accepted and were pulled to their feet as they explained, “they’re fictional—not real—for a story i was doing...”

vincent cocked his head cutely to the side as he listened, “what kind of story?”

“a visual on, a manga from my time,” they explained as the both of them began to gather up their supplies.

on the way back to the mansion, vincent listened as they explained, he found it quite interesting that someone would paint out a story, but enjoyed the idea.

vincent finds the whole idea quite fascinating and often asks them about their stories afterwards.

they are still flustered to show him many of their drawings, but vincent is sweet about it each time, and has invited them to try painting their ideas on a canvas saying he would love to see how their style reflects.

definitely adores all their drawings, his favorite ones are when they do simple doodles of the members of the mansion, often claiming they’re not great, but he loves them.

absolutely reads their manga stories, whatever they’re willing to let vincent read and he is enthralled by the stories and characters.

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serenityseventeen · 3 years

Text

Love & Letter: To The Thirteen Boys I've Loved Before

The Fourth Letter

-----------------

To: Wen Junhui

From: Y/N

Jun, how are you doing lately?

I'm always wondering that now that you're gone. I want to text you or call you but it'll be awkward since before you left, we decided to break up. I want to call and hear your voice, laugh at your jokes, I miss it all.

I'm sure it's better for the both of us that we cut off contact, but how can I forget you, my first boyfriend that I'm still in love with? I think you're the first person I've ever loved so deeply like this. I know that I'm in love with you.

During the little over half a year that we dated, I learned so many things about love. It was phenomenal, beautiful, and such a good feeling.

I'm always wondering, if we weren't teens in high school, if we were adults, would our relationship be different? Would we have ended differently? Because if we were adults, maybe you wouldn't have to leave back to China. Even now, I'm wondering, in the future, can we cross paths again? Give our love another chance?

But I know that by that time, we would be completely different people and maybe not even attracted to each other anymore. Who knows, you may find someone in China that you love better than me.

If you didn't have to go, maybe we could have had a longer relationship. Why must we have to be apart when we're so in love? You're my first boyfriend ever and I can't be more grateful to you. You were the best first boyfriend I could ever ask for.

This letter to you, it's not a confession, only a little bit. I just want to write this letter to remember you, my first boyfriend, and thank you now that it would be too awkward to do it over text or call.

You're my first boyfriend and when you came into my life, it felt like someone above heard my prayers. At that time when you slipped into my life, I'll confess that I was trying to fall out of love with someone else. Thanks to you, I was able to do that.

Should we both thank Mr. Koo for pairing us up for the 2-month project? I mean, thanks to him, I was able to fall in love with someone like you.

I remember how awkward it was for both of us introverts to speak with each other. You introduced yourself and I introduced myself and then we didn't talk for like five minutes. I still remember how heavily my heart pounded while waiting for you to speak. To this day, I don't know why you giggled first, but it was attractive and cute. Maybe I'm just so madly in love with you that I find your everything to be perfect and cute.

When we began talking to each other, I was surprised at how unique you were. Trust me, Junhui, you're nothing like anyone I've met before. Out of the guys I've ever met, you're the weirdest! But that's a good thing, because of that charm, I fell even harder for you. It's your charm, Jun.

It was just your way of thinking that was unique. You were able to come up with the most unique jokes I've ever heard and your humor always cracked me up as well. I still remember that first day when we were working on the project, you drew a small sun with a smiley face at the corner of my paper. It was so cute.

Soon, I realized that most of the time during class, we were just busy joking with each other and wasting time. You shared stories about your little brother and always made me laugh somehow. Each time I laughed because of you, my heart fluttered. Each time you laughed because of me, I would feel a rush of excitement and my heart would be pounding so fast.

When you started coming over to my house to work in hopes of getting more progress, that's when our relationship progressed. It was weird to have you around at my house because we just talked so much instead of getting work done. Sometimes, the responsibility would hit me and I would remind us to get to work, in which you would chuckle and reply, “Oh right, what are we doing, fooling around?”

Every time you said something along those lines, it made me smile because you were just so cute. I was slowly drowning myself into your charms. This unique personality of yours was drawing me in.

Aside from your dorkiness, when you get to work, you work hard. Sometimes I was distracted by how you looked when you were focused.

Thank you for asking me out that day at the bus stop. I was sending you home. I know I told you it was because I felt bad for leaving you alone and it really was because I felt bad, but it was also because I wanted to be around you longer.

When we reached the empty bus stop and you waited for the bus, you told me after some hesitation, abruptly, while chuckling softly, “I like you, Y/N. Should we date?”

At that time, my heart and mind were racing, that's why I replied stupidly to your confession and said “Isn't it too fast...?”

Gosh, I was so dumb! It wasn't fast at all and the pace was actually good. We took two weeks getting to know each other, it was about time that you asked me out, right? I mean, I liked you back then too, so I hope you don't think those dates we went on captured my heart because that's not the case at all! I've liked you before your confession.

However, thanks to my dumb reply, you took me on many dates. It was my first time going on dates like that with just one other person. A date like the ones in the movies.

The first date being at the carnival that was open in town. I had so much fun there! Plus, I still have that photo of us with the face paint in my photo gallery. I don't want to delete it because it holds so many memories. Maybe someday, I'll print our couple pictures and tape them on the back of this letter. Plus, the cat ears looked so cute on us.

For the first time, I felt like I was on a real date, and it was with you. I'm grateful that I was able to participate in so many different games with you. I still have the small duck you won for me. Those games are all a total scam but you still insisted and managed to win it for me. At that moment, I felt your sincerity at the bottom of my heart.

I also remember our date at the PC cafe. Gosh, you have the weirdest taste in games, you know that!? Usually, men like playing shooter games but you and I trained a cat to fly and had multiple races. The loser would then have to get a flick on the forehead, even though we both went easy on each other. That brought me a lot of joy too even though it was simple.

For our last date, before we started dating, I just want to confess, I lied about being able to stay out late. My dad didn't figure out I was with you though. I just really wanted to see the movie so I went to watch it with you. That was the location of our first kiss together.

After the movie, I was stretching my back outside the movie theatre. I don't know what you were looking at but if you were looking at me, I'm sorry I looked so ugly while stretching. It was almost 9 PM, two hours past the time I can stay out.

I can remember the scene clearly. I was just about to tie my hair while talking about the movie when you suddenly took my face with your cold hands and kissed me with your warm lips. Your hand on my warm neck was sending chills down my spine. I still didn't know how to kiss then and just going with the flow, I found myself enjoying kissing you a lot. My heart was racing and I remember how hard I clenched onto your khaki jacket. I'm giggling now thinking about it.

I did learn how to kiss better because of you though, Jun. After we started dating, sometimes when my dad left to get us some fruit, you would sneak some kisses onto my lips in the meanwhile instead of working. You're so playful too. Playful and sweet.

Sometimes, you don't know how much you mean to me, Jun. I mean, I'm still a bit upset that you didn't tell me you were moving back to China in the middle of summer break. However, I'm glad that you told me before you moved and just didn't disappear suddenly. Because you told me, I could love you with all of my teenage heart and give you all of me. I was able to convince my father to allow me to spend more hours with you, whether it was goofing around, working hard, or just kissing and hugging. Thank you for that, because I was able to prepare myself. I loved it whenever we were just sitting, our legs crisscrossed, and my arms around your neck with your hands clasped around my waist while we kissed sweetly.

I also love your hair, Jun. It was so soft and flowy that I could ruffle it all day. Your hand too, whenever they clasped with mine, I would always feel a sense of warmth.

When the move ticked closer, I was beginning to grow more nervous. I didn't want you to leave but I knew it wasn't your choice. Did you dread the day as well?

I wonder if we could have broken that long-distance relationship curse. We loved each other after all. I thought that I would be able to handle it as long as I could still hear your voice and text you. I thought long and hard about it, wondering if a breakup was necessary. But then, without even trying, I know that we will eventually drift apart. We're still teens and it's my first time having a boyfriend, how was I supposed to know what to do?

I remember the day before you left, you told me that you loved me and that you were sorry that all you could give me was memories. I'm still believing that every word you said was genuine.

You cared for me when I was sick. I remember how you rushed to check up on me after school when you heard that I was absent because I was sick. Most of the time I was sleeping but I can still remember how gently you caressed my hair and stroked my cheeks.

You showed me unconditional love, even when I was telling you that I wasn't proud of myself. You cheered me on with your bright personality.

I'm glad I said those words too. “I love you.”

Even though we may just seem like kids to others, I truly loved you, Junhui. The day when we broke up at the airport, I did not want you to see me cry. You always told me to cry if I wanted to but I didn't want you to see me cry.

When you said “Well, I guess that's it for us. Thank you, Y/N, for being mine for a while. I love you a lot and I'll always treasure the memories we made” as you left, waving and smiling painfully, I was going to cry, but I just smiled and waved after telling you that I loved you too and that this breakup was unfortunate.

When you stopped your suitcase and ran back to me one more time to hug me, I was about to burst into tears. You said your final goodbye and then went back to your suitcase. To be honest, I wanted to hold you longer. I didn't want you to leave, I wanted to hold you back so that you could stay with me.

After you left, I ran into my dad's car and cried.

I cried a lot and my dad didn't even do anything to stop me. He knew you were my first boyfriend and having to end my relationship with you so sadly made his heart ache too I bet. I'm glad my dad let me cry though. I think he understood what I was going through.

I miss you a lot, Jun. I still think about you a lot. Sometimes I look back on the place where we worked on our project and I can almost see the scenes of us sitting there, laughing, talking, hugging, cuddling, kissing. I was really sad after you left. I'm still getting over it. I'm still remembering when I wake up some days and realize that you're not here with me anymore and that you're in a different time zone, a different country, a different place.

A month has passed since you left. I have a month of summer left to spend to move on.

I hope you're having a good time, staying healthy, being happy where you belong. I will always remember you. I don't want to forget you, Junhui. You mean a lot to me.

I miss you, Jun. I'm thankful to you too.

I love you, Jun.

If only we fell in love at a different time, perhaps in the future when we are adults, capable of our emotions, capable of thinking, capable of our own lives, capable of loving. If you didn't have to move... If you didn't have to leave... I'm sure I'd still have you beside me. Yet, I can't even tell what the present holds, who am I to assume the future?

All I can do is reminisce now. I really miss you, Jun. I'll move on soon enough. Are you trying to move on too? Do you miss me as much as I miss you?

If only we were given more time.

Yours truly,

Y/N

-----------------

6/20/21 - 1:03 am

a/n: I listened to ‘Silent Boarding Gate’ while making this one because that song is so beautiful and just makes me feel like I'm reminiscing about a past love that is now gone. I almost cry every time. It's such a beautiful song, guys...

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aestheticaxolotl · 3 years

Text

Lets Talk About Mimebomb

I used two images here because both are priceless and I didn’t know which I wanted to use more. Let me start with Mimebomb, using the Carmen Sandiego Wiki to break them (mimebomb is non binary fight me) down as a whole, starting with appearance and personality (Excluding the comments around his action in the show, please bear with me once more as I do this).

Mime Bomb is a thin, red-haired young man (*Cough*) who looks like a stereotypical mime. He (*They*) wears a grey and black striped shirt, black beret, white gloves, black spandex and black shoes. His (*Their*) makeup consists of white face paint, black face paint around the eyes and on the brows, and a light red shade of lipstick.

So I wanna talk about Mimebomb without their makeup first. We see that they are not meant to be an attractive character, and I appreciate that Carmen Sandiego created characters like that. But I digress, red headed males are stereotypically either super hot or super not. And they really tried to go with super not. But failed because I love them anyway and so does most of the fandom. Now, the mime get up is a very strange choice to me, seeing as people are more scared of clowns than global warming, and mimes are very similar to clown, but I don’t think it’s a fear tactic. But more of a ‘hey even Mimes can be cool yall’.

For personality we do not have a lot to go on as some of the other but we still have SOMETHING, I was forced to reference the books for this so please, if you have no read “Clue by Clue”, check it out.

Mime Bomb has been described as quiet by El Topo and weird by Tigress. Mime Bomb is seen as an opportunist, immediately tattling to V.I.L.E Faculty when witnessing Carmen stowing away on the graduate mission during her holdover year, and secretly hiding a rare stamp in Detective Chase Devineaux's coat when he was on to him. In the Clue by Clue novel, Mime Bomb is said to be skilled in symbiology and cryptanalysis according to Professor Maelstrom. He is also prone to avoiding fights or physical contact when possible. When fighting Sheena in the Who in the World is Carmen Sandiego novel, she easily beats him while he is distracted. When offered a helping hand to his feet by Black Sheep, he declines with a shrug and silent nod. In Clue by Clue, when Le Chèvre and Tigress are fighting Carmen, he stands off in the sidelines and shadowboxes rather than assisting.

Now, let us begin on what I have brought to the table.

Mime Bomb is seen as an opportunist

I have to begin by defining the term ‘Opportunistic’ using the Webster's Dictionary, Opportunistic meaning “exploiting chances offered by immediate circumstances without reference to a general plan or moral principle”. And dumbing it down for myself “They take what is best for theirself rather than the people around them.” Right, so. Mimebomb being opportunistic is CANON and shown MANY times. I will draw your attention to every time Mimebomb has turned Carmen or who ever into the Faculty for not following the rules. I would have loved to stated that this is a ‘teacher pet’ thing but I was surprised when I realized it wasn’t. The Faculty really doesn’t like Mimebomb and are very sarcastic towards them, constantly underestimating them and using them as the butt of the joke! And yet we see them completing missions successfully and with finesse, other messing up the mission they set up so carefully and thoughtfully.

Mime Bomb is said to be skilled in symbology and cryptanalysis

Cryptanalysis is the art or process of deciphering coded messages without being told the key. While Symbology is the study or use of symbols. This is very telling. Mimebomb studying codes and symbols can allude to selective mutism or even mutism. Personally, I prefer the former, Selective mutism is a childhood disorder in which a child does not speak in some social situations although he or she is able to talk normally at other times. And this can form in adults too. But the implications that they let if form how they preformed in school/college? Amazing, they made a choice and stuck to it for SUCH a LONG time. That commitment is amazing. This is also useful to more historical based mission or where it may lead into hieroglyph or other symbols. I’m willing to wager that these talents are why DOCTOR BELLUM brought Mimebomb on the hunt for an artifact. Because they would know some of the writing and symbols.

He is also prone to avoiding fights or physical contact when possible

Mimebomb being physically weak is not an accidental detail. Far from it! I think addressing that a male character who is more brains than brawn is a detail that needs to be pushed, and as off as Mimebomb is, they are the perfect example of this. They are not masculine and are easily taken down by Young Blacksheep, Chase, and other characters. Mind you it’s halariauous but PLEASE- You are KILLING their JOINTS. I have a feeling the avoiding physical contact is a very... Self protecting action that I feel would have to be more touched on in a headcanon post rather than an analysis post. The best I can come up with is the speculation that Mimebomb refuses to let people become close to them.

When offered a helping hand to his feet by Black Sheep, he declines with a shrug and silent nod

This, this the most telling thing EVER. Mimebomb refuses a helping hand. They do not work well with others and when they are offered help, the refuse it. They have a self serving bias. A self-serving bias is any cognitive or perceptual process that is distorted by the need to maintain and enhance self-esteem, or the tendency to perceive oneself in an overly favorable manner. It is the belief that individuals tend to ascribe success to their own abilities and efforts, but ascribe failure to external factors. When individuals reject the validity of negative feedback, focus on their strengths and achievements but overlook their faults and failures, or take more credit for their group's work than they give to other members, they are protecting their ego from threat and injury. Mimebomb protects themself at all cost, and that makes me wonder, why? Because they know that they can’t accept others help or their comforts. And they are fine with it. They are okay with being alone.

he stands off in the sidelines and shadowboxes rather than assisting.

I feel like this was originally supposed to be a one off joke rather than an actual trait or habit. But... If you know me by now, I can twist this on it’s head so fast, it’s not even funny. But I can’t here, I can’t except maybe they do this to encourage others? I think when they do work in a team, they do try their best to support who they are working with unless its an annoying slime ball like Neal the Eel (Not hating on Slimebomb, I just noticed they work better as comical enemies rather than a relationship, and i love that)

Now, there was no abilities category in the wiki, and I found this interesting, so i drew from the Trivia section of the page and found out... A lot really, that is interesting. But only one of them made and impression on me and it’s the one I want to focus on for a paragraph or two.

Mime Bomb is actually classified by A.C.M.E. as insane; given he is locked up with Maelstrom in a loony bin. considering he NEVER speaks (by choice), makes sense.

I’m going to take a second to define the term “Insane” using “Wikipedia” rather than a dictionary. “ Insanity, madness, and craziness are terms that describe a spectrum of individual and group behaviors that are characterized by certain abnormal mental or behavioral patterns.” Hmm....What abnormal pattern are we looking at here. Selective Mutism. The mime outfit doesn’t help. I’ll make note that the official wiki says it’s choice that Mimebomb doesn’t speak, but doesn’t give us a reason why, speculation and theories are in store here and I will reference my V.I.L.E Operative headcanons.

In the end, Mimebomb was and still is one of my favorite characters in the whole freaking show. I enjoyed ever second of them on screen, every caper and ever wacky highjinx. I’d watch the whole show again just to see them being the awesome character they are. As usual, requests are open and please! I love when requests come in! Stay tuned for the next one y’all!!

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cali-holland · 4 years

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Golden Hearts, Prologue

Harrison Osterfield X Reader, James Bond AU ~ Sequel to Golden Bullets

Following a messy split, Harrison, Agent 007, resumes his role as an elite womanizer, after his recovery from his previous mission; meanwhile, you’ve stepped back from your 00 status, taking on cases as MI6’s assistant director from your office. When a new threat emerges to MI6 and a dear friend gets kidnapped, can you and Harrison set aside your differences to save special agent Q, better known as Tom? Or will the stakes- and your love, push you two further apart?

Word Count: 2700

Gif is not mine

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Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

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Warnings: violence (unnamed character death, guns, someone gets stabbed, kidnapping, tranq dart, punching/kicking), swearing, sexual themes (my attempt at a heavy make out sesh), mentions of drugs & sex trafficking & sexual abuse

~~~

Tom hated field work, he really did. He could handle himself fine with a gun, but he still hated it nonetheless. Maybe it was because he hated the feeling of having no control. Behind a computer, he was the one in complete control. He could hack, invent, and upgrade things as he pleased, as if it was simple; there were no unknown variables, not truly.

Maybe another reason he hated field work was his current state— yet again, who would enjoy running away from the bullets of angry Spanish men, who were also possibly cyberterrorists.

Technically though, this wasn’t even field work. This was Tom having a good time with his family in Spain when he discovered a meeting of said suspected cyberterrorists. He didn’t mean to stumble across the secret meeting, but when he did, he did his best to acquire surveillance of the scene with his camera, taking a few photographs of the men, clear enough for facial recognition to be successful later. Thankfully, the men hadn’t linked him back to his family, leaving him to flee- or well, attempt to because he knew this information needed to be sent to MI6.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Tom cursed, ducking down an alleyway before kicking in the nearby door. He raced up the stairs and checked behind him quickly. The men were far enough behind him that he was fine- he had time to finish this small mission. He ran into the small, worn down, windowless apartment M had supplied him in case of an emergency, which he definitely felt like this counted as one. Grabbing the laptop from the desk, he slid his camera’s memory drive into it.

“Come on, come on.” He mumbled as he waited for the laptop to load the images. With the file upload complete, he drafted a quick email, fingers flying across the keyboard.

‘Find L’Americain.’ Tom wrote out in the message space before adding in the two recipients, the two people he could trust most with this critical information. Just before he could press the little arrow to send the message, the door got kicked down by the opposing men. Instantly, Tom put his hands up in surrender, knowing with his lack of weapons that taking them on wasn’t his best option- or maybe it was.

One of the men shouted out orders, and Tom eyed the open email in front of him. He couldn’t let this just go to waste; no, he was sacrificing his life for this, it had to go to someone at least. Taking a deep breath, he quickly hit the send button. In one fast motion, he removed the memory drive and threw it on the ground, crushing it and all of its data. He shut the laptop and put his hands up again, feeling one of the men step forward and point his gun against Tom’s head.

“Alright, I’m done.” Tom said with a sigh. He watched as a second man opened the laptop, only to find the computer frozen without Tom’s unhackable code to unlock it. The leader spoke again, and this time, the man behind Tom shoved him to turn him around.

“Who did you send the message to?” The leader questioned in a thick Spanish accent.

“Doesn’t matter.” He paused, a cocky smirk playing on his lips, “All you need to know is— you don’t need to find them, they’ll find you.”

“Are you sure about that?” The other man asked, cocking his gun.

With a wave of confidence, Tom grabbed the man’s wrist in front of him, twisting it up and grabbing the gun from his hands. He fired twice, one hit the man in the chest and the second at the laptop, blowing a bullet straight through the device. He then shot the only light in the room, sending the space into darkness. Tom ducked as the other two fired blindly, and he swept his leg down to knock one over. Tom clutched onto his gun before running in the direction of the exit.

The moment he got back onto the streets of Spain, he ran as fast as his feet could carry him, booking it down the busy roads towards the proper MI6 safehouse, where, hopefully, a better and actually trained field agent would be. He could see the familiar, yellow safe house in the distance, just a block away, and he began to run even harder, feeling a surge of hopefulness overcome him. He might actually make it through this.

That hope was quickly lost as two black motorcycles came from the side streets, stopping with their guns raised, effectively halting him in his tracks. Tom raised his own gun, ready to fire at them. While he was distracted by these two, he didn’t catch the third motorcyclist behind him. He felt a prick to his neck before a sudden wave of drowsiness washed through his system. Dropping the gun, he fell limp to his knees.

“The hell—?” He mumbled, his fingers tracing over the tranq dart in the back of his neck.

That was the last thing he remembered before he slipped into a deep state of unconsciousness.

~~~

The moment he stepped into the club, he was blinded by the pink and gold neon lights, his ears flooding with the blaring sound of some atrocious techno music that had no business being played in such a setting. He followed the waitress dressed in the club’s signature colors to a vip room. When she opened the door for him, he slid past her while brushing his fingers against her waist, a smirk playing on his lips as he did so. In the room sat six men around a deep brown circular table, all dressed in their finest suits; the smoke from their cigars hanging in the air and onto their crisp glasses of whiskey.

The one at the head of the table spoke first, his hand outstretching towards the only open chair at the table, “How nice of you to join us, Mr.—?”

“Osterfield. Harrison Osterfield.” He answered, smoothing out his suit as he took a seat in the chair.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” The waitress asked from his side.

“Martini. Thank you, love.” Harrison replied, his lips in his signature smirk. The woman left the room quickly, leaving him to discuss business with the other men.

“So, Mr. Osterfield,” The leader didn’t get to finish his thought as Harrison held up a finger, silently telling him to wait a moment. The waitress returned to the room, handing him the shaken martini.

“I never discuss business without a drink first.” He stated, before drinking the beverage down in one quick motion. His fingers traced the small, sharp metal rod, complete with a green olive still on the end of it. The men watched as he picked the olive off, abandoning it in the glass.

“You know, I thought a bunch of drug dealing, sex trafficking assholes would check their new guests for guns first.” Harrison said. The men went to draw their weapons, but he was faster, throwing the rod across the table and straight into the leader’s eye. He drew his compacted machine gun from his back holster, firing along the circular table until none of them so much as blinked. He tucked his gun back away under his suit and turned to see the same waitress from before. Her eyes were wide with fear, but he could see her shoulders relax as she realized he wasn’t going to harm her, an innocent employee. He watched as her eyes stayed on one man of the group in particular.

Slowly, Harrison stepped towards her, “Did he hurt you?” When she nodded, he went to comfort her, but she shook her head the moment his hands touched hers.

“Thank you. They were the worst.” She stated, and Harrison couldn’t sense any fear in her voice as she spoke; no, she sounded perfectly fine- happy, even.

“It’s no problem, love.” He smiled at her, blue eyes lighting up as her eyes met his.

“There must be some way for me to,” She paused, “repay you.”

“Well,” Harrison’s lips curved into a smirk, eyeing the waitress up and down, “What time do you get off, sweetheart?”

~~~

“Harder, Harry!”

“I don’t want to hurt you- oh god.” Harry landed on the ground with a loud thud. He let out a groan, rubbing his abdomen where your punch had landed. You playfully rolled your eyes at him as you held out a hand for him to stand up again. He took your hand and nearly fell over again, still surprised by how forceful your grip was.

“Told you I could handle myself.” You teased, making him laugh.

“Are we done yet?” He asked, but still got in position across from you in the ring.

“You can’t be tired already?” You joked, and he raised his eyebrows at you. You sighed, before raising your fists. “Fine. Last one.”

“Loser buys drinks on Friday?” Harry offered, a cheeky smile on his face.

“Agents aren’t my type. Besides, you already know I’m going to win.” You smirked.

“I’m not an agent yet, remember?” He reminded you with a wink.

“Your status changes at midnight, Agent 003.”

“Better get busy on those drinks then.”

As you started to throw punches at him again, he blocked them the best he could, his arms and torso still getting clipped by your knuckles. You started to pull your punches, letting him feel like he had the upper hand. Just as Harry was about to make a comment about finally beating you, you jumped up and kicked him square in the chest, sending him backwards and onto the decently solid ground of the sparring mat. You smirked down at him.

“Finished, Holland?” You asked, and he let out a sigh and nodded- rather, nodded as best he could. You held your hand out to him again, and he took it just like every other time you knocked him over in training. “Good session today. I say you’re 00 ready.”

“I still can’t believe it. Me? A 00 agent.” Harry chuckled while the two of you walked outside of the sparring ring to get your water bottles. “I can’t wait to tell Tom.”

“When does he get back from Spain? He’s there with your family, right?” You inquired before taking a long drink of the refreshing ice cold water.

“Yeah, he should be back in a few days. I’m still kinda bummed my training process kept me from going, but I guess you kinda sign away family vacation as a 00.” He laughed.

“Oh, definitely.” The training room fell silent as you quickly gathered your bag. The moment you were ready to leave, you made a beeline for the door, and Harry jogged to catch up to you.

“About those drinks-“ He started.

“I’ve already told you. It’s not happening, Harry.” You replied, continuing your path to your car.

“Just one date?” He asked. When you didn’t respond, he reached a hand out for yours. The second his finger brushed against your skin, you instinctively grabbed his wrist and twisted it. “Ow, fuck. I’ll drop it.”

You let go of his hand with a small laugh, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Harry.” And with that, you got into your BMW and sent him a quick wave.

When you got back to your apartment, you let out a deep sigh, tossing your bag down next to your couch. It was silent, just like it always was now. Sticky with sweat from your post-work training, you headed straight for the shower. Once you were out of the warm water’s embrace, you changed into your red satin robe, draping it over your shoulders and tying it around your waist. You turned on the TV for background noise as you cooked yourself a quick meal for dinner. It wasn’t until you were sitting down and eating that you realized your TV was playing a “Mission Impossible” movie, right in the middle of an action-packed Tom Cruise scene.

You watched as the actor scaled the Burj Khalifa in Mumbai. With a sigh, you set your empty plate and fork aside, twirling the steak knife in your hand. You didn’t take your eyes off the movie as you threw the knife to your right, sending it straight into the bullseye of your dartboard. You huffed; a steak knife and a dartboard, you really were bored.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss field work. There was a reason why you personally trained Harry to become a 00 agent instead of having another, lesser agent take it on. After all, though, Tom wanted his younger brother to be trained by the best, which was you, even after three months behind a desk. You missed the suspense of keeping undercover, the sweet taste of action, all of it.

But MI6 was changing, and that meant you had to change too. As M retired and was replaced by the new M, Gareth Mallory, you turned in your 00 status to stay in the office. And, with Nine Eyes, a new global security company, seeking to merge with MI6, the 00 program was at stake now as it is, yet all of that was information left to remain between you, Q, and M. Global security sounded like a dream, but it would mean a lot more changes to the organization.

Just as you were about to turn off your TV and turn in for yet another lonely night, a notification came through your computer across the room. Curious, you stood up and walked over to your desk, taking a seat in the office chair to examine the new notification.

“New encrypted message from Q,” the screen read. You clicked on the message to open it, your eyes going wide at the contents.

“Oh god,” You breathed out.

Meanwhile, across London, Harrison was having a different night than you.

“This is me.” The waitress’s lips barely separated from Harrison’s as she spoke. With his hands around her waist, fisting at the loose fabric of her work dress, he walked them backwards out of the elevator. He dipped his head down to hungrily nip at her neck while she led them to her apartment. She fumbled with the keys as Harrison found the sweet spot on her neck, already marking a hickey there. The moment she got the door open, his hands slid down the back of her thighs and she jumped into his embrace, chests pressed against each other.

“Bedroom?” Harrison panted out, his blue eyes full of lust.

“First door on the left.” She barely got the words out before his lips were desperately back on hers.

He stumbled his way through the dark apartment to her bedroom before laying her down on the bed. Her hands worked on unbuttoning his shirt as he discarded his jacket somewhere behind him. She pushed her lips back onto his, sloppily kissing him while he shrugged off his shirt. Harrison wasted no time in finding the zipper on her dress, tugging it down. The moment the dress slipped from around her, she pulled Harrison back with her on the bed, and his lips hungrily followed hers, moans slipping from both of their throats as their tongues and teeth clashed.

Hearing his smartwatch alert him of a new message, Harrison broke the kiss, leaning on one arm to look at his wrist. The waitress’s lips dipped down his neck, biting and sucking on his skin as her hands scratched over his abs, a detour on the way to his belt.

“New encrypted message from Q.” Harrison read the alert, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and worry.

“Stop, stop.” Harrison said, pulling the waitress off his body as he got off the bed.

“Where are you going?” She asked, hurt by the sudden change.

“I have to go. Sorry, love.” He answered, but he really wasn’t that apologetic as he slipped his clothes back on. She huffed and made some angry comment about him mistreating women, but the words flew over his head. He rushed out of the apartment and made his way to the elevator. Once he was within the comfort of the four metal walls with no one around, he opened up the new email on his phone. He let out a shaky sigh, peering down at the message’s contents.

“Shit.”

~~~

General Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-holland @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @hollandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @gorillaglue23

Harrison Tag List: @Calhtlland @tomkindholland @where-art-thau-romeo

Original Series Tag List: @quinjetboi @baby-haz @kickingn-ames @rougese7en @hollandsosterfield @nj01 @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @spencerreidxoxo @duskholland

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield series #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield fic

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geirskogull · 3 years

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Moments of Calm - Part 2

+ Notes: 5.5 Spoilers Present in This Fic, Warrior of Light Danica Voss takes a moment to herself to perfect that strong silent type look by letting her brain get the better of her.

Archive Link

Warnings: This is DIRECTLY The Mega Horny Part so uh NSFW But Beyond that, warning for praise kink i guess? I need to relearn how to tag things

Word Count: 6.5k

He had almost forgotten about how fast she walked. Like wind almost. Moving with a grace and speed she lacked while dancing but made her one of the most formidable combatants he had ever had the luck to spare with. Maybe that was where his softness originated. The times she kicked his ass. The thought made him chuckle and painted confusion on her own face.

“Something Funny ‘Stinien?” She asked her voice low now not out of sadness, but concern for those already sleeping. Though she had to guess the workaholics that were Riol and Thancred were already up.

“No, no, just reflecting.” The look she gave him in turn was one filled with doubt. But she didn’t raise the question again. He was a bit thankful for that. Instead focusing on opening the heavy wooden door of her large room with only moderate creaking.

Her room was some kind of strangely organized mess. Like A dragon’s horde in a way, really, if he was to go about and make poetic comparisons. Though he imagined a Dragon’s Horde was less plush stuffed animals scattered about and more golden coins and rare magical arms and armor, but if there was such a thing as a Danica Dragon well this would be a wonderful horde to suit them just fine.

Danica wove her way through the hazardous maze of assorted fluffy friends towards her bed. Her Movements he could only describe as sluggish and exhausted. He followed behind, though unsure of any particular reason why. Perhaps to make sure she actually lay in her bed and rest? Perhaps because her hands still held one of his captive? Either way, he found himself uniquely aware of when she stopped and turned towards the large window that overlooked the now stirring streets of the town.

"Hells, and here I was hoping to get a reasonable amount of sleep for once." She whispered, probably more to herself than to him. A weak chuckle shaking her form all the while. He felt some sort of relief knowing that it was a real one and she did actually seem to be doing better.

"You're turning into me, Voss." He added in his own whisper, causing her to look from the window to him in surprise. She hadn't forgotten he was there, no, but perhaps she let herself get too lost among thoughts again. This time she was swiftly dragged back to consciousness though, the fragile little smile that sat upon his face proved thus.

"Oh what a crime, I'll be too handsome" She joked in turn, scrunching up her nose in mock disgust. Yes she would be ok. Even if more of these bouts of melancholy and deep fear hit her, she would still be ok. Good. He would raise blades against the star itself if otherwise, for what else caused her such pains. He reached out for the hand he didn't yet hold, which she gladly gave to his grasp.

"Oh stop it you." He huffed, a look of total exasperation taking his face. None of it true of course. He pulled at their joined hands, pulling her closer towards him, his smile losing any hint of exhaustion as her form ran into his chest.

"Fine, fine." She laughed in turn, looking up at him with sleepy eyes filled with such gentle fondness it caused him to pause. Perhaps someday he’d get use to that look. A potential someday where they would get their rest and perhaps in that someday he’d get to wake up to such it in her eyes every morning.

"I can tell them to leave you be if you want, let you sleep in." He offered, his voice a gentle whisper as he let go of her hands only to wrap his newly freed ones around her tight. She shook her head no vigorously.

"You need your rest too. I've kept you up all night." Ah, there was her normal gentle chastising he knew her for. The amount of times even early into their travels together that she sent such worried mother henning towards Alphinaud, himself, and others was countless. It was a static familiar thing and it felt like home.

"Believe me, Dee, I don't mind." The nickname so omnipresent upon lips that felt uniquely intimate between them. Something he never called her in front of others. It was always Voss. Or Danica if he was feeling particularly testy. But never Dee, never in front of others. He couldn’t tell you why.

"Then would you mind...staying?" Her request was simple and honestly should have been expected. He’d been gone for some time and he couldn’t imagine how much longer it felt when she was worlds away. Sure she wasn’t there for years like the others but - He shook his head and the look in her eyes told him she took that as a no and that was far from his answer.

“I don’t see why not.” He whispered, holding her tight so she wouldn’t step back in some sort of miscommunicated hurt. “Get comfortable, I’ll join you soon. It’s not like they’ve got a room ready for me yet anyway.” The smile on her face was one filled with relief and she nodded. Slipping from his arms with that same ferocious grace she was known for and dipping behind a screen to finally relieve herself of the days grime, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“I love you...” He whispered to empty air, like he had back in Azys Lla what felt like years ago now. And like all those years ago, his hands closed around empty air and he felt...lonely. Even if she was only a washroom away.

But he couldn’t sit there wallowing in strange loneliness. Not while she was off doing whatever she needed to do to sleep and he was still there in thankfully cleaner than they had been traveling clothes. He couldn’t say the same for his armor. The ancient artifact he’d yet to have a chance to service since Ul’dah. He had doffed it and went to find her almost immediately, given she had disappeared so readily after the scions split ways in the main hall and it had concerned him. Not that he’d say that to any of the others. The looks some of them, especially her cousin, gave him told him they probably well enough knew why.

He pulled at his top, yanking it roughly above his head and throwing it in some distance corner. Knocking over a strange cat-like plushie that once toppled over seemed to judge him with large beady eyes, its tiny golden crown slightly off kilter.

“What something to say?” He hissed at the inanimate object, like somehow its plastic eyes were judging him. It, of course, did not respond. And could not be judging him. He sighed loudly, kicking off boot after boot towards the same corner, knocking over the doll and covering the judgemental plastic.

“Oh gods, I’m losing my damn mind.” He shook his head meandering towards the mountain of blankets and pillows Voss called a bed and almost throwing himself upon it. Good, she still had a love for very soft things. He’d fall asleep in no time.

“And still dressed. Here I was thinking I was taking too long.” Her voice from a distant doorway drew his eye, and to her form in but a large shirt that he was about 90% sure was his own. Seemingly lost long ago but actually just owned by a new soul. Not that he minded. It look good on her, slipping gently off her left shoulder as she navigated the wasteland of stuffed animals. He chuckled.

“Got distracted by all the prying eyes.” He motioned wide with one of his hands while untying the offending garment with the other. She scoffed, taking a seat next to him upon the bed and drawing her legs up to her chest. Almost like she was nesting among the fabric.

“Oh please.” She chimed, throwing her legs over his lap as soon as he was undressed and bed ready. “They’re just stuffed animals after all.” Laughter lit her voice and he found himself once more enchanted by his fellow Dragoon, much the same as he was when they first met. When she looked at him, staff in hand, with mostly confusion and probably a bit offense on her face, given that his first words to her were something akin to threats.

Gingerly he reached out for her waist, to shift their position and pull her upon his lap.She did not resist, nor pull him down upon the bed to actually rest like was the goal but smiled at him. Wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace that brought a smile to his dour face once more. She had this unique skill really, to get him to smile so easily.

“Well, perhaps they are to you. But to me they are terribly judgy little eyes that I want no part of.” In a burst of confidence, he continued. “ At the moment the only eyes I want on me are yours.” He hummed, watching and enjoying the gentle flush that took to her cheeks moments after. She yawned, a loud over dramatic thing that had her removing her arms from him in some cruel bit of acting. She was relatively good at acting, all things considered.

“And they are, though they want to be closed.” Recovering from the yawn, she tapped his nose gently, all the while scrunching up her own and before hiding another yawn he wasn’t sure was true or not. Either way she was beautiful, present and most importantly in his arms.

“Hm... I find myself not too sleepy anymore.” He whispered, his voice lowering to that place between a growl and a purr that he knew would draw her attention and wake her right up. The smirk that took her face told him it was successful. Her hands dropped from his face to cradle first the sides of his face, and then down to rest upon his open chest.

“Oh really?” She asked, raising a brow. It was her turn to be exasperated. “I thought after how long I’ve kept you up and how busy a day we’ve had you’d be dead exhausted.” Though her words said otherwise, the gentle swirling patterns she now drew upon her chest said she didn’t mind staying up a bit longer if it meant this closeness.

“Aye, tis’ not every day one can say they’ve a Warrior of Light in their lap.” Almost on queue she adjusted herself there, so she was looking directly at him without having to turn her head. So she was straddling his lap with a growing cheshire grin upon her face. He smiled, his own hands taken to cradling her rear, pulling her closer. Their chests sat plastered against each other now, and this was a closeness he had missed.

“Yes but you can say you’ve got a Danica Voss in yours whenever you want.” she chimed in, her smile losing its edge only to have it replaced with warmth she showed very few others. In response he brought up a single hand to her face and brushed some of the errant strands of her hair behind the slight point of her ear.

“Well then, I would very much like her to stay there a while at least.” He leaned forward, making the already small gap between the two infinitesimally smaller, their lips but breaths away from one anothers.

“She’ll -” A laugh shook her form, here she was talking like she was some other person recalling vague information about herself. “I’ll be sure to try,” It was her turn to brush unruly strands of white from his face, fingers lingering longer than they need be upon his cheek.

“You say that like you’ve a choice, my lady.” And gone was the purr, leaving but the growl. His hands dug in hard to where he held her, and he couldn’t help himself but enjoy the faint near imperceivable gasp that escaped her lips. It morphed quickly into a chuckle that tickled his cheeks.

“Oh, are you going to try to stop me, Wyrmblood?” She whispered in turn, ever so slightly tilting her head, and stopping those idle little circles upon his exposed chest. Punctuating really, her words with but one final poke square where his heart was.

“Not unless you want me to.” He warned, and asked, in equal measure, as scarred hands moved up her back and lost themselves among her hair to keep her eyes locked on his.

“I’d love to see you try.” Affirmation that opened a thousand flood gates, bursting at the seams with months of distance, closed finally with those words and a lean to both their heads. Lips interlocking with a ferocity behind them, and not a gentleness. A desperation that spoke of their time on the road.

Her lips were chapped, and coarse, bit by the sandy winds they had experienced that day. His own were not much better, but yet neither seemed to truly mind. His mouth opened faintly against hers as air grew thin, though he felt no need to part yet. His tongue ran across the rough flesh, and when she would not grant him entrance he brought his teeth to bear.

Teeth biting down hard enough to draw blood to the surface, but not spill it. Swelling her lips under affectionate abuse and causing her to gasp just enough through gritted teeth that his tongue could slip in. A grumbling laugh echoed in his chest, it was like the Churning Mists all over again. At least this time they had walls about them.

Before air forced them apart, and allowed her to make any little snips about his manhandling, he pulled her close and flipped upon the bed. Dropping her with an unceremonious Ooph upon the mound of blankets. A giggle shook her form, as she looked up at him with wide mismatched eyes and smiled very much like a cat that had gotten into some cream.

She opened her mouth to tease. He did not give her such a chance, slamming his lips roughly against hers again to silence her fiery tongue. Her spine curved up at the touch, hungering for yet more of his rough manhandling, she was notoriously impatient. He wasn’t surprised once more, given their months apart that must have felt so much longer for her. But he would have his fun, and her impatience wouldn’t stop his teasing.

Payback for many a time before.

His hands wandered up her form, catching on the stolen oversized shirt with ease and slipping beneath its ragged body. His scarred palms chartered familiar terrain, divots where blades fell, rivers of ink, the rise and fall of her hips and chest like a sailor looking over a beloved map.

She whined against his lips, twisted beneath his touch, like a storm raging on open seas, and he once more the sailor gripping hard to his beloved ship with rough bruising hands. Her legs wrapped tight around his hips in turn, trying to drag him under. But he wouldn’t give up so easily. No matter how part of him wished to drown.

Air once more drove them apart, but not very far as his lips crashed like lazy waves against her face, drawing back further and further till he dropped down to her neck. Eyes warry in watching the impetuous storm of a woman he called a lover as she twisted under his touch. When it looked like she might open her mouth to complain that he was taking too long, he’d allow his kisses to grow less gentle upon their slow trek down her form. Teeth once more would join the equation, first dragging down the flesh and then biting hard when she grew bold. Hard enough to leave marks. Hard enough to draw blood, metallic in his mouth.

Her gasps were music to his ears. As were the growing sharp pains in his back, as her nails dug into his bare flesh. Digging deep pathways into his flesh that would rise red in her absence. Marks he’d gladly bear, of course. They urged him on, really, like her heels digging into his ass in turn and though he was sure she’d love if he gave heed to the growing inferno around his heart that demanded he rip and tear and take her as his own, he wanted to savor this.

And he did so by dragging his lips further down her chest, slowly undoing the string upon his former shirt and pulling it over her head to make that beloved swath of skin he had mapped so well visible in the residual darkness of the waning hours of night. Something akin to a purr echoed out of his chest, but was cut short the moment he felt her hands bunch around his undergarments.

“Oh no you don’t.” He growled, hands snapping from her hips and grabbing her wrists roughly. Her desire to move things along he had to admit was understandable. They’d been apart for quite some time, but this was to be savored and he was going to take his time. She’d challenge him there, but for once he would not bow to her precious whims. If he could maintain the strength. She squirmed, trying to wring her hands free but to no avail. He held them fast.

She pouted, the kind of wide overdramatic pout that she did when she’d didn’t get her way that would pluck at his heart strings and had won her many a stuffed animal or other little gift she so desired. Though he held the command here...she held command over his heart. Either way, they wouldn’t win her a victory here today.

Slowly he forced her arms up above her head, before collecting both wrists in one hand and holding them there. Restraining her, and painting a proud smirk on his face. “Patience, Dee, Patience.” He chastised, using his free hand to gently touch her face, enjoying the draw of her eyes when she could not match it with a caress of her own.

“I don’t want to be patient, ‘Stinien.” She whined, once more trying to free herself from his grasp. He could do naught but chuckle at the act, truely. If he was a cruel man he’d sit there and just watch her try time and again to take what she so well wanted, only to steal it away from her with this simple little grasp upon her wrists. But he wasn’t, and she would get her reward in time but first -

“You don’t have to be patient long,” He purred, leaning down right near the slight point of her left ear. “Just keep your arms right there, allow me to taste what I missed and then you’ll be rewarded, Dee.” He leaned back a bit, tilting his head and raising a brow. “Can you do that for me?”

He smiled when her eyes zeroed in on him and his words with laser like precision as she felt her heart pound in her chest. A war seemed be raging behind her eyes, knowing what words waited on the tip of his tongue but were not said. Words she wanted to hear just so badly. Her pride lost, and he waited till she gave the faintest nod of her head before releasing her hands which remained held above her towards the head of the bed of her own volition.

“ Good Girl.”

She froze, stock still, barely breathing now as he returned to his languid teasing pace. Dragging his lips back down his minefield of marks upon her gently, reminding them with faint little nips that they were there to stay a while. In case they were apart again for any extended period of time.

When his lips dragged over her breasts, and his languid tongue traced circles over her raised nipple she made her first sound since he released her arms. A sharp intake of breath as the cold bitter night air was replaced by the warmth of his mouth. His eyes flicked up, and a smile grew upon his face when he saw the palm of one of her hands digging into the others. A self inflicted point of pain to keep her focused on where they must remain.

He’d have to test her resolve.

When he removed his lips from one raised mound, she exhaled a breath she hadn’t known she had been holding. He was being cruel, she had decided, cruel and mean and making her wait as he was torturing her by taking his sweet time, and not just bending her over upon the bed and having her preferred way. Her shoulders relaxed, and she stopped digging her nails into the palm of her hand as he stalled, oh so tyrannous, only to regret it immediately as he took the other in his mouth and grabbed the first between two strong fingers and pinched.

“Ah- AAH” A gasp into the air that was much louder than intended. Poor Thancred next door, she prayed he was a really REALLY early riser and not currently in his room. Though... perhaps this would be pay back for all the times in the Waking Sands.

Yet, she did not move. Nails once more digging hard into her palm, leaving deep gashes upon the flesh that would bruise on the morrow. She held her breath now, as he bit down and pinched in equal measure, just enough to hurt and just enough for her nerves to feel on edge and alive.

When he raised his head, eyes lidded with some amount of pride, and released his hold upon her chest he let out a low chuckle. “Hm, seems you’ve passed the first test.” He gave the raised nubs one final flick before dropping his head below them, slowly continuing his brutally languid and sharp toothed descent.

“I didn’t sign up for Exams Estinien.” She whined, twisting under his touch as if trying to actively avoid it but still not moving her hands. He leaned down towards her head once more, and left a lingering kiss on her swollen lips and smiled when he looked into her eyes once again and saw them red and cloudy.

“Are you afraid to lose Voss?” He purred into her ear, before once more descending, tongue now tracing lazy circles down her toned stomach, enjoying the faint twitch of her every movement.

“We both know I can out last you.” False bravado rang through her tone as each word was a struggle against her desires and her pride and he knew this well. It’s like he knew exactly where to poke holes to make her deflate into something manageable. The purr in his next words confirmed it.

“So sure, so proud.” His free hand wandered and walked spider like up her torso and across her chest towards her chin, gripping it tight and forcing it up. “Very good. Now don’t distract me Dee, I’ve work to do. So look away.” He didn’t need to apply much force to get her to look at the ceiling and away from him. Damn him to all the hells.

She took to biting at her lip to maintain some focus, to draw the nervous feeling away from the slow angel light touch of his lips upon her hips. He was being gentle. It was a heartless cold gentleness that had her parched for more violent and vibrant touch. It was calculated, as was his slow descent from the outside of her tattooed form towards the core of pulsing need that sat soaking the top most layer of her mound of blankets she called a bed.

And she hoped to save laundry for another day.

And he planned on making sure it had to be done tomorrow. Or whenever the two of them roused from bed, the world could deal without it’s heroes for a bit.

As his lips danced around the edge of her old and frayed undergarments he stopped, fingers hooking around its hemline and pulling hard, but not off. His grey eyes lingered and examined the growing wet stain upon its dull fabric and found pride once more welling in his chest. She hungered and it was his fault. Good.

"Gorgeous...” He whispered, and her resolve faltered at the sound of his words,drawing her eyes just barely to him without moving her head. “Look at you, so ready and I’ve only just begun.” She whined, drawing his ire and attention in equal measure as her small movement no longer went unnoticed.

“Hm, what did I say?” She stuck her tongue out in one vain hopeful act of defiance that she immediately regretted as the touch upon her jaw grew harsh, dragging her face back to look into his cool grey eyes.

“Look.” He growled his voice dropping at least an octave. “Away.” She could not stop her eyes from widened, nor how instantaneously she looked out the window, noting the sky growing light and the sound of souls milling the streets setting up their stalls. She hoped they couldn’t hear either of them.

“F-Fine.” She would not beg. She would NOT beg. She was too proud to ever beg but she could hunger like a primal summoned off the lifesblood of it’s followers and he the sickly sweet aether that would keep her material.

“Patience, patience.” A virtue neither had, as illustrated when he removed his hands from her form and returned them to the pathetic fabric that dared separate the two of them. She had plenty, and could mend whatever he broke. Right?

He didn’t voice the question so he didn’t get an answer, forgoing his fingers to dig his hungry teeth into the fabric and yank his head back, animalistic joy welling in his chest and mixing with that pride at the loud screeching sound of ripping fabric.

Air stung her sopping core and she gasped, the slips of fabric that survived his onslaught did not to help save tickle her skin. The gashes in her hand grew deeper as she tried to restrain herself yet that resolve to follow his command, to be that so called good girl that deserved the reward that had been kept from them both for months now remained.

He chuckled darkly, seeing the pink glow to her battered form. All the way from her cheeks to his prize. A smirk to his lips as he considered his options. Torment her more, or claim their prize?

He decided he would do both.

He lowered his head once more, kissing along where fabric had once hid. Slowly but surely driving inward towards the pleasant sopping mess that was her core. She squirmed, the sensation too much even with the sharp bites of pain to anchor her. A short whine escaped her lips as the fraying strings of her resolve began to break into splintered ends.

The entire rope shattered the moment he reached his goal, a loud moan punctuating it’s brutal end the moment his lips first pressed upon his prize. The taste of her viscous fluids coating his tongue instantly, sweet as a honey made just for him.

"That feels good doesn't it?" He asked, raising his head after his first assault, “but you want more” He paused, a wild grin taking his face as he considered very carefully whether it was worth the fun she’d poke at him later for his next words. “But you want to ride the Dragon.”

If she poked fun at him, he could always shoot back that her nod of yes was near instant.

“Just a bit longer then.” He cooed, before laughing at her whimper of frustration, using the act to hide his second attack. He rubbed a hand down the length of her slit, fingers growing slick with the same essence that now dripped from his face, her spin arched at the pressure and once more one of those magnificent melodic screeches of pleasure hit his ears. He smirked then, not giving her a second to recover before sliding a single one of those coated digits into her fiery core.

Her legs grew taunt and her back remained arched off the blankets surface like she was a living breathing cathedral. He didn’t hold enough fervor in his ishgardian body to be above sacking it though. And soon the plunder would be his.

His finger was immediately greeted by the warm tightening embrace of her insides that only pulsed faster with a fiery life as he curled it at the knuckle. She gasped, throwing her head back at the sensation, snapping her final bits of pride into broken little shards of self.

“P-please!” Her voice was an echoy ghost of what it normally was, weakened by the dryness at the back of her throat, and the thirst that rested within. He answered her with a knowing smirk and the addition of another of his thin fingers to her core. She nearly threw herself upward off the bed, the dragoons' well trained legs a danger here.

“Please what?” He whispered, rubbing his thumb in lazy circles around the bundle of nerves that would drive her mad. She bit at her lip until she feared it might start to bleed. The corpse of pride still trying to save itself like some vain dying god.

“P-p-lease.” She whispered this time, shaking faintly, using the last of her resolve to still yet comply with his demands. Yet how she wanted to look him in the eyes and plead with their mismatched colors, saving what little pride she had left by silencing her words.

“Please.” He paused his movements, stilling the constant pulsing action of his fingers. “What?” He asked again, leaning forward and watching now how her entire body twisted against the stillness now. Starved with twitching euphoria just out of reach. His free hand rested upon her hips now, to prevent her from actually manging to reach that, from actually managing to fuck herself upon his hand.

Though admittedly he would have been impressed, it was he who was growing impatient now. The ever growing strain against his undergarments was a pointed reminder of that. He could see her tremble slightly, bite her lip and fight against her will still. Part of him was proud, that will power of hers was legendary in all things it seemed but -

He released his grip upon her hip and grasped her chin firmly again, drawing their eyes together. Leaving nothing in the air save the loud beating of her heart and the shallow breaths they both mustered.

“Please...” She whispered again, he met her words with the faint trace of his fingers down her parched lips. “Please, I’m yours just -” The words were almost there, perhaps it he just flexed his hand slightly they would -

“Stop! Stop Teasing me!” She squirmed, the inside of her growing tight around his two fingers. “Just Please!” She exhaled, her words more a strangled gasp than a proper moan. Tears now edged at the rim of her eyes now, and his smirk faltered. No matter what she managed to stutter out, she was at her limits and he would not push her beyond them.

“Take me, Estinien! I-i can stand this no longer!” And this time, she’d admit it too. Good, good. He had been worried for a spell, that she was too proud to admit when something was too much but then again, she hadn’t been earlier under different circumstances.

He removed his fingers, tips dripping with her essence staining the top covers a deeper color then they started. She exhaled, and then whined for the absence and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Do you want my spear or not?” He raised a brow, she responded with nothing but heavy eyed silence as her body relaxed from the precipice it had been upon. The cliff she had been so close to crossing. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out but a gasp for air.

He took a step back, unhooking her feet from around him to shimmy out of the one remaining bit of clothing stopping her reward. That which she so nicely asked for, that which they both hungered for in equal measure now as he was sprung free.

“Are you ready?” He returned to her form, gently running his hands down her warm body as he wrapped her legs back around him. It wasn’t that she wasn’t helping, but her attention was elsewhere now, eyes lingering upon what pressed hard into her thigh, mouth slightly agape in expectation.

He’d never get tired of that look. Nor of the one he knew awaited them both at the end of this brutal joining.

She nodded faintly, though, to answer his question as words now were beyond her hazy eyes. He voiced the question again, raising a hand to move some of the hair from her face, and then unwind her hands from above her head. Placing each palm gently upon his shoulder, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the way they relaxed at his touch. Melted upon his skin till they almost became as one.

She exhaled a shuddering breath as her eyes cleared and but one tear escaped them, one he quickly wiped away. Cradling her cheek in his hand with a reverence he did not even afford the divine. Leaning down, their lips met once again but it lacked any of the ferocity their earlier joinings held. Only pure gentleness, a reassurance to both their souls that they knew their bonds and boundaries.

And then, still with his lips just hovering above hers, he closed that final gap and connected them. The sign of their joining the arch of her back into his chest and the low groan that left his own lips. Why had he kept her waiting all this? Why had he kept either of them waiting?

Perhaps it was the sweetness of this exact moment, the jolt of electric sensation through both their bodies that was made more wondrous by the wait. But he could philosophise about this meeting later, when he wasn’t so focused on the shock of his starting pace.

Slow, but increasing at a speed that could only be described as breakneck. Or perhaps, he would chuckle later, spine shattering. The resounding slap of their bodies together and the creak of the rickety frame holding up the mountain of blankets muffled the thought however, and the low frantic gasps of his name drowned it outright.

Her fingers lost their way among the tangles of his white hair, grasping at anything to ground herself from the onslaught she had dreamed of. Wrapped in the knots, she inadvertently pulled, snapping his head back and issuing a deep growl from his lips that set her already sensitive nerves alight.

“Again.” His voice was all rough edges, a husky depth with no end, but she wasn’t about to leave a request like that unanswered. She wrapped a strand around a set of fingers when she could and gave it a firm tug, once more drawing a sharp inhale from her lover and a noticeable increase to his speed. And to think she thought he had reached his peak, she gasped, near yelped in surprise, but she would not complain.

If anything she’d keep her hands wound right where they were, tugging upon his white wisps he called hair every time he pulled from her even slightly. He grinned, teeth barred in rabid devotion, though she could not see it, as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. It was his turn to beg.

“Harder.” He urged her, lips pleading against his pathways along her neck. She gladly complied, grasping a full handful and tugging his head from its hidden perch, eyes heavy and hazy with a new found feral lust that had been hidden for but moments too long.

What passed through his lips then wasn't the common tongue, of this Voss was sure, but even more sure was she of the meaning behind the strange moaned guttural sounds.

"Good girl,"

Those sounds alone would have left her mewling, but in addition to the punishing pace he had set, one she kept egging on with ever faint tug it set her dangerously close to an edge she knew she'd quickly topple over. Red hot coils building into blinding infernos in her gut, breaths becoming ragged and short and constant, the outline of him, her fellow dragoon nothing but stars. She knew the snap would come soon and she'd be nothing but faintly twitching putty in his hands, at his mercy.

"Mine. My Girl."

Sounds she hadn't expected to be the final push beyond electric oblivion. Panted words of ownership punctuated by frantic thrusts and growls, as he himself was not too far behind. She couldn't tell how far, of course, as her eyes grew blinded by the stars of euphoric absolution that took her senses far and told the world through one final moan of but a single conformation.

"Yes!"

Her mind was alive in sensations, too many for her to comprehend. The press of his body, the erratic pulsing of her core, the blooming bruises upon her skin, the stuttering irregularity of his brutal pace that stalled and near stopped with a low wheeze and whispered echoing of her name as well as a plastering of her inner walls with a material reminder of the joining and its cataclysmic end.

Perception spun out of control, and as she felt his form near collapse on top of her in one final wheezing flurry of friction, the only sound remaining in the cool room their ragged breaths frantically trying to catch up, and the pounding of their hearts in their ears. Before he crushed her, he rolled across the bed eyes focusing finally upon the crisscrossing beams that made up the ceiling. He didn’t doubt that she could realistically hold the weight of one adult elezen man, but that felt somewhat rude and at least here, he actually cared about that.

Long moments passed in silence, words and language long beyond either of them. The sky grew brighter as night slowly passed into day. Slowly, as sentience returned to them both, and a dull ache across all of their bodies, Voss crawled close to him. Slinging a leg over his own and nuzzling her face into his side with lazy exhaustion.

“Love you...” She whispered, shivering faintly as the thin layer of sweat the two of them had acquired during their act cooled them in the Mor Dhona morning chill. He reached far, pulling one of the hundreds of blankets she kept there over the two of them, fighting off the worst of it.

“I love you too, Dee.” He whispered back, noting that even now her eyes fluttered shut. Soon, he yawned, his would follow and then.

Well, they could face their morning later.

#ffxiv #ff14 #estinien x wol #estinien wyrmblood #Danica Voss

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kutemouse · 4 years

Text

Never Really Over

Disclaimers: I made and edited the above gif myself. That’s why I’ve used the tag #btsgif. Feel free to use, just please give me credit for the edit! I used some of the lines from Katy Perry’s lyrics to inspire and write this, but they belong to Katy.

So this imagine was inspired by the Katy Perry song “Never Really Over,” which, when I heard it for the first time, reminded me of the way my bias works. Yes, I am a Taehyung bias, but every two weeks or so, one of the other members of BTS wrecks me, and I mean WRECKS me to the point where I think, “This is it. This is when I change my bias.” But then Taehyung does something or posts a picture, and I instantly zip right back to him. I’ve been this way since I started stanning BTS, idk why, low-key, I think I’m secretly an OT7 fan.

Age Recommendation: 16+

Warnings: Sweeeeaaaaars (like always), ANGST with a happy ending, Taehyung being a sweetie-pie, no smut, might make a part two with smut idk, honestly, I hope this makes you laugh more than anything.

Word Count: 2,187

Summary: It had been two years since you broke up with Taehyung, and you were finally at the point where he stopped randomly popping into your head. But that didn’t stop him from randomly popping up on your social media, wrecking you into oblivion, and making you do stupid things.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Oh no. Not again. I’m not falling into this rabbit hole again, not today, not ever. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this again, that I’d draw the line and never think of you again, and I did. Or so I thought.

I tentatively scrolled down my feed back to the video of you singing your heart out to a sea of adoring fans, feeling a twinge in my chest as your voice reverberated throughout the stadium. How I missed that deep rumble, the one that drew me out of sleep each morning with a chuckle and a kiss.

Shaking my head, I attempted to push all thoughts of you out of my head. I didn’t miss you. I didn’t miss anything about you, no-siree, I was over you. Ugh, who was I kidding? I couldn’t even go on the internet without seeing you. I was losing it.

“Fuck this,” I thought, standing up from the bench and heading towards my favorite cafe. The bell over the door tinkled, bringing a memory to the forefront of my mind.

We sat in the booth in the far corner so we could have as much privacy as the cafe would allow. “It’s happening, jagiya,” he murmured, taking my hand. “I’m going on tour. I won’t be back for nearly a year.”

“I know,” I muttered in reply, looking down at my lap. I couldn’t be angry, hell, I couldn’t even be sad. We both knew this was coming. Ever since BTS’s popularity shot through the roof, he’s been getting more and more busy, constantly at practice, song-writing, or travelling.

“Hey, we can make this work,” he said, his voice soothing over the pain I was beginning to feel. “I’ll always come back to you, jagi.”

He reached over and grasped my cup, taking a sip from it before squinching his eyes up cutely. I laughed and playfully grabbed for it back. “Hey, that’s mine!”

“I don’t even know how you can drink this,” he said, still grimacing. “Coffee is so bitter.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” I said, giggling.

“Miss?”

A voice brought me back to reality, and I blinked a couple times before looking at the barista. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

She gave me an amused smile. “I asked what you’d like to order.”

“Oh, uh… Hmmm, an iced Americano for today, thanks.”

“You got it. I’ll have it ready in a moment.”

“Thank you.”

I paid then sat down in a booth to wait, fiddling with my phone. My finger touched the fingerprint pad, powering on my screen to show that video once more. Cursing, I closed the app and jammed the thing back into my pocket.

“Miss? Your Americano is ready.”

I stood and took the cup from the girl, walking quickly back outside and sitting down on the bench again. I just couldn’t escape you. It’s like no matter what I did, you were there. You were always there… and not just because your face covered the internet the way clouds covered the earth. You were always in the back of my mind.

I felt my self-control slowly trickling away as I drew my phone out of my pocket, clicked it on, and opened a new message, typing in your name as the recipient. I never deleted your number, scared of breaking the last possible tie I had to you.

Ugh, no, stop. It’s done. It’s been done for two years now. I left my phone in my lap, trying and failing to concentrate on drinking my coffee instead. We parted amicably, with both of us acknowledging that our relationship was over due to you not being able to be the boyfriend I needed. Still, for weeks after we separated, I couldn’t help jumping every time someone knocked at my door, thinking it was you, or stopping guys on the street who even slightly resembled you. That had all faded away, though, so why were my nerves on fire once more?

Our relationship was terrible, or at least it was towards the end. You were constantly gone, and didn’t have time to call or video-chat me. You had to send me text messages on the down-low, scared your company would find out about us and force us apart, or that delulu fangirls would find out about me and come after me. We only spent time together twice in the last six months of our relationship, and I was beginning to get sick of explaining to my friends and interested guys why I was unavailable to date. The second time I saw you, you came over to my apartment wearing a mask, sunglasses, and a baseball cap.

“Sorry,” he said apologetically as he shed his disguise. “I had to circle the block a couple times… make sure I wasn’t followed.”

I threw my hands up. “This is insane!”

“What is?”

“This! This relationship! Taehyung, I can’t do this anymore. This isn’t normal!”

His mouth dropped open at my proclamation. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more serious,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest and turning away.

Taehyung grasped my arms with his large, soft hands. “Please,” he said, his voice cracking. “Let’s just talk about this.”

And talk we did. For hours. And we both came to the same conclusion: That our relationship was no longer working and in order for us to both be happy, we needed to let each other go. I reached up and touched my lips, remember the way you kissed me for the last time. Hard and deep, with both large hands on either side of my face, you kissed me until my heart broke cleanly in two.

Yet, even after all the pain I went through, I was surprised to find myself missing you even weeks after our break-up. Yeah, we were a mess, but it was the best mess I’d ever been in. By the time I figured out that life with you in it, as seldom as that actually was, was still better than life without you entirely, it was too late. You had moved on, and were becoming one of the biggest names in k-pop, no, in the world, ever. I had moved on, too… or so I thought.

Sure, I dated other guys. I even had a relationship that lasted a good six months… but none of it ever felt right. I broke up with the guy after he hinted he wanted to move in together, realizing it would never feel right no matter how much I tried to force it.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and clicked it open, staring at your name at the top of the text. What would happen if I just sent a simple, “Hey?” I let myself indulge in my imagination, thinking about the way you’d ecstatically respond, instantly sparking a conversation and lighting up my deadened heart. After a few days of texting, you’d ask to video chat, and I’d see the face that cracked my heart and soul into pieces, but this time, you were intent on mending all that. You’d come over just like old times, and we’d spend night after night together, intertwined so close we practically become one… But then you’ll leave. Again. Work will call, or your manager, or one of the other members, and you’ll leave spouting useless apologies and empty promises. Then I’ll have to get over you again.

Draw the line, I told myself. Draw it. No more. Yet even as I was thinking it, the side of me that missed you put a toe over that line, inching towards completely diving headfirst into the shit show I knew we’d forever be.

I opened the social media app again and watched that video of you singing for the third time. “Fuck it,” I thought, switching back to my messaging app and typing out a message.

Me: Hey. Just caught myself thinking about you and wondered how you’ve been. I miss you.

I stared at it for a good thirty seconds, my thumb hovering over the send button the entire time. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed down, slowly opening them to see the circle going ‘round and ‘round, trying to send.

Wait, no. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t trip up after two whole years. I frantically tapped on the message, trying to delete it, but then the dreaded check mark appeared. Sent.

“Fuck!” I cried out, startling the closest passerby.

“Sorry,” I muttered, looking down at my lap, my cheeks flooding with warmth. How the hell had you trickled back in? I drew that line, I did, I did, but now I’d tripped up. I sipped from my coffee cup, keeping my eyes on my phone screen the entire time. Nothing. You were probably busy. Hell, you’d probably changed your number for all I knew.

With that thought comforting me, I threw my cup into the nearest recycling bin and began the five-minute trek back to my apartment. I spent the rest of the day distracting myself with studying, my fingers hovering over my phone every now and then, tempted to check it. At around the same time the sun was going down, my phone finally beeped and I snatched it up.

Damn. It was just my classmate asking a question about the essay we were assigned. I rolled my eyes and chucked my phone somewhere on the floor before flopping backwards on my bed. It was over. Has been for quite some time. I didn’t know why I expected anything more.

My phone beeped again, and I sat up so fast I made myself dizzy. It beeped again, and I yeeted myself off the bed and frantically began searching through the ocean of clothes that littered my floor. Shit, where did that damn thing go? I hadn’t chucked it that far, had I?

I dug through the random piles of my belongings, making even more of a mess as I hunted my phone down. It started ringing, and I whirled around at the sound, seeing my screen shine through a random tank top. I stumbled towards it, hands outstretched, and grabbed at it, the phone slipping through my hands like soap and falling back to the floor.

“FUCK!” I yelled out just before a knock at my door made me whip my head around.

Leaving the damn phone, I stumbled out of my bedroom and towards my front door, taking a second to run a hand through my curls in an attempt to smooth them down, before I whipped open the door.

My mouth dropped open in a gasp, eyes widening as I took you in, one hand still holding the phone to your ear, the other shoved sheepishly in your jean pocket. “Hi,” was all you said. Mouth still open like a gaping fish, I wordlessly stepped aside to let you in.

Closing the door behind you, I finally managed to get some words out. “How… Wait, why…?”

You chuckled, the buttery-smooth deep bass of your voice causing tingles to break out all over my body. “I got your text, Y/n.”

“Wait, was that… that was you calling?” I asked, my voice coming out strained. “Sorry I didn’t pick up, I was-”

“It’s fine,” you said, waving my apology off. “I know you’re probably busy… and honestly, I don’t know why I’m here other than the fact that I…”

You trailed off, and I swallowed, anticipating the dreaded words. You were here because you needed to remind me that we were done. That there was nothing between us anymore. That you had a girlfriend.

“That I… Well, that I miss you too.”

For the second time that evening, my mouth dropped open. “You what?” I squeaked.

You chuckled once more, but this time, you had a trace of uneasiness in your chocolate-brown eyes. “I miss you, you dork.”

I didn’t bother trying to speak anymore, I just acted. I rushed towards you, grabbing both of your cheeks, and kissed you with everything I had. You grunted in surprise before grabbing me by the waist, steadying both of our stances, and moving your lips around mine, fully kissing me back. The second we separated, you drew me back in, even going so far as to swipe a mischievous tongue over my bottom lip, causing me to groan in pleasure.

We finally pulled apart, panting a little, your eyes bright, a wide smile on your face. “It’s been two whole years, though,” I said.

“Yeah, and the entire time, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind,” you murmured, peppering light kisses along my cheek. “I won’t let you get away this time.”

I sighed and curled up against your chest, once again falling hard for the way my head seemed to fit perfectly in the crook of your neck, and the way your hands seemed to meld with my love handles. It was like we were made for each other.

Well then. I thought we were done, but I guess it’s never really over, is it?

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bluepenguinstories · 4 years

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Happiness Overload Chapter Fifty-Six

Coriander Rule #56: Never trust someone who sits on top of a pile of popsicle sticks and obsesses over art, for such people will surely monologue.

Exhibit A, and the only exhibit to date: this Dr. Popsicle Stick Lady. Or whichever of her doctor names she gave herself. Who gives a fuck, am I right?

Now, before the rule turned out to be true, my client, Velvet, was on trial for the crime of trusting someone who had way too much fun with popsicle sticks. She didn’t know she was on trial, but she totally was. We both were, but I wanted to think I was the defense attorney. Or the prosecutor.

“I’m telling you, I’m getting bad vibes,” I tried to keep my voice low as I muttered to Velvet.

“Don’t worry. If it comes down to it, you’ve got that backpack blaster and I’ve got this gun I found.”

Tch. “Found”. More like looted off an enemy guard. Not that semantics ever helped anyone.

“Why does someone like you want to help us defeat the guys that you work for?” I called out.

She bobbed her head to and fro as if she was listening to a song. In fact, she grabbed the popsicle sticks that were in her hair and started tapping them against the pillar she sat on. “Look at all the things you can do with a little bit of arts and crafts!”

“You’re not answering my question!” I snapped.

“Oh, but I am! You see, this huge corporation claims to want what’s best for humanity, but they failed to realize that without art, Earth is just ‘eh?’ But that’s just how corporations are, aren’t they? They stifle creativity and restrict art until it’s sanitized and marketable! Just like that snappy slogan I just used! If they can’t find a use for art, they find it useless. Me? I just can’t abide. I need to show everyone all the ways art is essential to humanity!”

“But aren’t you on their side?”

“I’m on the side of art, the greatest side you can be on. As long as I’m inspired, I don’t mind where that inspiration comes from! I need to be free to explore all mediums, and even discover new ones!”

...Yep. There it was. The monologue.

I tried to look around me. I couldn’t see any form of exits besides the way we came in. Figures. If there was a way for her to have gotten out, wouldn’t she already? Considering how The Flashbulb seemed to go to great lengths to hide her existence, I had to assume that she was trapped there.

Yet another ridiculous person we just had to meet. Go-fucking-figure. Really, how could this person help us, anyway?

“Velvet, let’s just turn back and find some other way around,” I nudged her. “I don’t think we’ll find anything here.”

“Really? We found a person. That’s already one thing.”

Gah. The fu...fu...fudgetrucking nerve! Did she not notice the red flags?

Or maybe she did and she’s just confident she can use the situation to her advantage. She’s probably already thought something up. That’s just like her.

“Aaaaand...DONE!” Lord Popsicle (look, it wasn’t like anyone was going to care what I called her) announced. She held up some wooden block.

“We can’t see shit, dumbass! You’re too high!”

“Astute observation!” She dropped the wooden block down. It landed without so much as a scratch. I was hesitant to approach it, as I knew I needed to be on my guard.

“I get it, I get it! I’m a scary lady you just met who recently learned how to use popsicle sticks as chop sticks! It was hard at first, but I got the hang of it! Also, that wood block is made entirely from recycled...guess!”

“How about no?” For real, not even (if I had to guess) five minutes in and I was getting real sick of the repetition. ‘Art’ this or ‘popsicle’ that. How irritating.

“I like that! Unorthodox answer! Quite artsy!”

Velvet took a few steps forward and pointed the gun upward at our supposed helper. “I’ve got this, Corey Andy.”

“I’m going to ignore that for now,” I replied.

Why does she have to come up with the most ridiculous names? There’s no way I’m going to be referred that way.

I walked over to the wood block and picked it up. Then, my hands began to shake: it was a picture of Velvet and I, which, would have been fine. I mean, the details were amazing. Our forms were near perfect. That wasn’t the problem. No, it was that the picture was of me standing on my tiptoes and kissing Velvet’s forehead. Something that happened not all that long ago.

What started as shock and possible fear turned into anger and confusion.

“How could you…”

“How could I draw so fast? Mostly a force of habit from back when I had to finish my dad’s paintings for him.”

“No!” I shouted. My hands were balled into fists, I dropped the painting on the ground. “How could you have known? Unless…”

Beside her buzzed two little flying drones which were about the size of flies.

“Oh, that’s what you mean! I used these little bugs! They’re small enough that they can fit through the cracks within walls! It’s nice for when I need inspiration!”

“Who gave you the right?!”

Velvet turned to me. “This isn’t the time to lose your cool,” she urged me. She was right, too, and by all accounts, it must have seemed like I was making a cow out of beef jerky, but I had my reasons. I didn’t know what those reasons were yet, but they were there.

It used to be my job to spy on people. This shouldn’t bother me.

“Not only can they watch people, but they can also listen in to their conversations, and let me tell you, I’m so glad that you two found a way to get in here. I was really hoping you would. I just loved both what I heard and what I saw. The motivations, the struggles. The pain and joy. It’s all so poetic! I just had to capture your likeness.”

I dropped the painting and stepped on it. “Capture that!”

Was it petty? Sure. Would it drive home how serious I was? You betcha. No more games.

“Is it smudged?” She leaned over and looked down. “I was going to say you could keep it, as a gift, but if you want to use it in that way, that’s fine too! As long as it served some kind of purpose, I’m glad! Besides, I can always make another. The important thing is, no matter how fast or slow I am with my art, I always put effort into everything I do!”

“Look, Velvet and I don’t care!”

Velvet continued to point the gun at the art nut. “I would have phrased it better, but she’s right: we’re trying to fight an impossible battle against an entity that can’t be defeated, so if you want to help us, you’ll step aside and show us where the exit is.”

Damn. I forgot how fierce she could be when she wanted to.

“Give it up, Velvet! There’s nothing she can do to help us. Keep your aim on her and let’s walk back. If she knew where an exit was, why would she be in here?”

Velvet started to walk back, still aimed at the one atop the popsicle pillar. I pressed a button on one of the straps of the backpack and the lasers set their sights on Popsicle Lady.

“If you try anything, I swear…” I stopped myself. I sounded ridiculous. So far what had she done? Spied on us and drew a picture? In other words, a little creepy, but harmless. Velvet was right: we needed to be as efficient and free of distractions as possible. Creepy or not, if that woman wasn’t going to be our enemy, there was no need to attack her.

But as I started to walk back and try to catch up with my silk spun partner, I felt the force of something hit against me and the force thrust me against a wall.

“What the –”

I tried to move my arms, but nothing would happen. For whatever reason, I was stuck.

“What a beautiful wallflower you’ve become,” mused someone from up above.

I could hardly turn my head to face her. Whatever substance had covered me must have been pretty strong.

“What did you do?!”

“Oh, that? That’s gorilla glue! And no, in case you’re wondering, it’s not made from actual gorillas! I’m as surprised as you are, I’m sure!”

“Argh!” I tried to thrash about with the same results. No movement.

“Nothing I can do to help? Isn’t that what you said?”

“Spice!” Velvet cried out.

“Since when was that my nickname?” I groaned. Oh, it didn’t matter.

“No, I will help you two out! By drawing out your potential! True, your goal is a near-impossible one, and you were right to focus on it, but you won’t get very far without some guidance! So allow to make you my muses and become wonderful works of art!”

Ladies, gentlemen, kind folks of the jury, I rest my case.

Damn it, I really thought I was onto something. Usually I could just wing it and when an opportunity arose, I’d take it. I thought that was one such opportunity, but now look at the mess we were in.

“This is all your fault!” Coriander yelled. Whether she thought that way or was just pissed at her situation was anyone’s guess, but I didn’t blame her. “We should have never trusted this art freak!”

It’s not that I trusted her, I just thought that we had caught a lucky break. But then again, maybe I really did trust that person. Maybe I had gotten so used to finding allies recently that I believed there could have been someone in that evil lair who could help us.

You’ve gotten softer, Velvet, I scolded myself. Softer, silkier, smoother. Velvety.

I knew I’d have to take a life eventually. It went without saying that being in such a place and not expecting to have to kill was absurd. As hesitant as I may have been before, I wasn’t about to let anything happen to Coriander. So I set my sights, aimed, and…

I saw myself step forward with a pistol. She pointed it right at me. In my hand wasn’t the same heavy weapon as before, but also a pistol. We both aimed at each other, and then everything went black.

Engulfed in total darkness. Or so I thought, but there was a light somewhere. Above? A dim glow? Either way, I stood, once again.

Stop it. Stop getting distracted by this. My target is the art lady. After that, I need to free Cor...Coral? Never mind. It would come to me.

I aimed the pistol, which I somehow obtained, and shot straight ahead. I was surrounded by Velvets on all side, who also took aim, and before I knew it, confetti. Wait. Confetti? Or nothing?

That’s right. It’s all an illusion. I don’t really get it, but I just have to analyze my surroundings, focus, and then the weak point should appear in my mind.

“I know what you’re doing!” I cupped my hands and called around. “But it won’t work!”

“Cut! Cut!” The voice of the art lady boomed. “End scene! Perfect!”

“What’s going on?” I yelled in response.

“You’ve been cast in the leading role of some new blockbuster movies! But who am I, you may ask? I am the great Dr. Lynch, of course, director extraordinaire!”

I groaned. “I don’t care what you call yourself! I just want to get a move on!”

“So you’re the type of actor who gives every performance your all? Excellent! Next scene!”

I don’t think so.

I ran forward, sure that if I just broke through I would be free of the illusion, and then I could break Coriander free and together we would –

Bright, orange glow. Beat up cars. Explosions in the distance.

“Fine. I’ll bite. What kind of movie is this, anyway?”

I wasn’t sure if she’d answer, but to my surprise, she did.

“It’s an art film! Of course, all films are art, because good or bad, corporate or independent, they all have effort put into them. But, is effort the only thing that goes into art?”

I wasn’t about to answer that. I decided to wander around the city landscape a bit. Even if it was some green screen, illusion, ‘movie magic’, whatever, I didn’t see myself making much progress until I could figure out a way to exploit the situation.

Maybe I should think like a hacker, like the good old days. Only this ‘movie set’ is the software, and I’m the infection.

I went around and kicked some rubble. These “streets” were already on fire, destroyed by some unknown force that I didn’t care to know.

Off in the distance, I could see a group of people in what appeared to be superhero costumes. Jeez, what a bunch of dorks.

“Dr. Banter, I’m going to need you to get irritable!”

“That’s my secret, Admiral: I hate it when you leave the toilet seat up. I hate it when you don’t wash your hands after you use the bathroom and then wipe your dirty hands on the shower curtains. I hate when you put used paper towels in the recycling! I hate when you leave your shoes around everywhere! And when you snore!”

“Yes! More! We need you to turn into Bunk and smush Lowkey!”

I grimaced. While I didn’t know what was being referenced, it was clear this ‘movie’ was parodying something. Regardless, I wasn’t having any part of it. I picked up a brick and threw it at the group.

“Hey assholes! How do I ditch this popsicle stand?”

Everyone turned to me and looked stunned.

“It’s Black Velvet!” Admiral (I guess was his name?) pointed at me. “The secret agent who works for Condom! Why is she attacking us?!”

Condom? Really? Couldn’t they have picked a better name?

“Maybe she’s being mind controlled by Lowkey!” Someone covered in tinfoil suggested.

“You’re right, aluminum foil man! Or maybe Condom is really a front for the evil organization, Gorgon!” Some guy who looked just like a thumb suggested. Everyone looked at him in disgust. Honestly, I was too. I mean, he looked like a thumb.

“You may be the god of fungus, mighty Thumb, but you are not very bright,” Admiral replied. “Besides, that’s spoilers for the next movie! Dude, you’re not supposed to give that away.”

Are they...breaking character?!

I shook my head. It was best not to get sucked into the nonsense. What was that old saying? ‘Exit stage left’? Very well. I turned to my left and began to run.

“Smart thinking! You need to find a way to escape, don’t you?” Came the voice of ‘Dr. Lynch.’

“Gee, I didn’t know this was the director’s commentary track!” I retorted as I ran through a torn down building.

I know this isn’t real, but I don’t know how else to explain this.

“How are you doing this?”

“Should you really be asking that? That’s like asking a director ‘what’s my motivation?’ There are some things you should just know!” Her voice boomed.

She’s right. Somewhat, anyway. I didn’t know how she was doing these tricks, but I knew what my motivation was, and that was good enough.

“Mark my words, I’ll find an opening, exploit it, and break free! Then I’ll break Coriander free!”

“That’s what I like to hear! You might want to hurry, though! I hear poly...urine? Poly...uranium? Um. It’s a hard word to say, but I hear it’s quite toxic! Plus, as we speak, popsicle sticks are being dumped on her, so if you don’t hurry, she’ll suffocate to death!”

I’ll burn this whole set down if I have to. I’ll reduce every piece of “art” that she has to ash. So what if it’s true that most people don’t even “save” one person in their lifetime? As long as both Spice Bae and I are still alive, I’ll fight time and again to keep it that way.

Heh. I needed to be careful with my line of thinking; I didn’t want to be mistaken for an actual hero.

There were worse ways to die and I would have rather chosen any one of them over what was being done to me.

“So that’s just it, huh? You’re planning on confining me here until I die?!” I shouted.

“Hm? Hm?” It was like she was humming a tune. How irritating. “Oh, you can call me Dr. Bob Ross!”

“I’d rather not.”

“Very well! And to answer your question, no, I’m not just confining you. I’m confining both of you! As we speak, your little gal pal is in that little box and hallucinating up a few good movies for her to star in. I can’t wait to find out what movies she was in after she’s all done! But, if she spends too long in there, her mind will erode and wear itself out. That is, unless she finds the willpower to break free. But even if she does, that box is pretty sturdy!”

So basically I have to break myself free and break her out. Or she has to break herself free and break me out

“You two are stronger together, right? And I’m willing to bet you and her are pretty strong individually, as well. So this shouldn’t be too much of a problem, right?”

That’s right. Velvet thrives on life or death situations. As for me…

“If I could just reach the buttons on my backpack…” I muttered.

“Velvet was what you called her, right? Well then! She will become Velvet, the movie star! And you...I haven’t decided yet. But I’ll make you my muse yet. Maybe I’ll make a sculpture out of you…”

That wasn’t going to happen. No sculptures. No human arts and crafts projects. None of it.

Up another torn down building I went until I reached a floor where there were no walls and I could see the sky outstretched.

Where is there to go from here?

“If it’s all an illusion, then there isn’t very far that I can go. Theoretically,” I let out a deep breath. How hopeless. I didn’t know how to go ‘off-screen’.

“There’s no escape! I will rule all of Nude Pork City and there’s nothing you can do!” Cackled a snobby British voice.

“The...fuck city?” I jolted. Startled, I turned around and saw a skinny man in a green leotard with a horse mask on. He cackled once more.

“This movie is PG-13! You can say ‘fuck’, but only once!”

“Dude, you just said it again.”

“Fuck!” He cried out, as if he had already been defeated. The most surprising thing of the whole ordeal was that I could actually hear what he said from underneath that horse mask. “No matter! No one can defeat me, for I am Lowkey, the villain!”

I looked up. Could I find my way out by running to the highest point of the building and jumping out? But then that might just kill me. Ugh. It would really help if I had a laptop next to me right now.

“Hey! Why aren’t you paying attention to me! I am Lowkey!”

“Sorry, this just isn’t my kind of movie,” I explained.

“Heh. Heh! HEH!” He cackled once again, then pulled the horse mask off. Underneath, was an emaciated face which sported greasy black hair. Even if I swung that way, I didn’t think I’d find him all that attractive.

From his suit, he pulled out three little grenades. “You talk a big game, but you’re still human!”

“Still not my type!” I called back, then rolled over behind a pillar. He tossed the grenades my way. I thought I was a safe enough distance, but they detonated, and the explosion sent me back to the further end of the building. Not only that, but the explosion was causing the building to collapse.

I struggled to stand back up. I had to hold onto the very pillars that were crumbling.

I need to run. I need to run and tackle that guy and then get out of here.

From behind me, that same snobbish voice: “Hey cupcake!”

“What...did you call me?” I growled.

“Hey cupcake, why don’t you and I go back to my place later?” He mocked. “Velvet? Like a cupcake? Are you sweet like one too? Do you taste good like one? Hm, cupcake?”

How did that Dr. Lynch woman know that about my past? Did she really know that much about me? Just how did this movie operate?

“Shut up!” I leaped and grabbed onto his leotard, then reached into his pocket and grabbed one of his grenades. “You want to taste something? Taste this!” I shoved it in his mouth, then pulled the pin and let go.

There was little time: I needed to run down the collapsing building before it could come crashing down and reduce everything to rubble.

But isn’t that what I want? To bring it all down? To destroy the “art” that would hurt the ones I care about? Why does this building feel real, anyway? Did she create this elaborate of a set? If it’s not real, then what danger am I in? If I’m in no danger, I shouldn’t be worried about anything…

I stopped.

“Where...where did the gun go?” The one that was taken off of the guard. I had it. Then it was replaced by a pistol. Somehow.

Because it wasn’t real.

When I got to that “movie”, I had nothing. I had to use a brick. I had to use that villain’s grenades. Grenades that weren’t real.

So in other words, I have nothing. But wasn’t that par for the course? I came to The Flashbulb’s lair with nothing. I’ve had all sorts of risky endeavors, and each time, I would just acquire things as I go.

I ran anyway. For whatever reason, I ran.

No. I don’t have nothing. There’s someone I came with that I care about.

On cue, just as it came crashing down, I escaped. Not even a second after, credits started to roll.

...Wait, what?

‘The End’

Then, the list of the actors who played the characters showed up in front of me. I just couldn’t believe the whole environment was covered by text. Names I didn’t recognize to characters that didn’t matter. Then, I saw my own name. Or...my character’s name? Next to it, it listed…

“No...it can’t be…” I gulped. “Scarlett Johansson?! Really? Come on! I have more class than that!”

Then, answering my call, Scarlett Johansson’s name was crossed out, and a new name replaced it.

“ZENDAYA?!”

I shook my head. “Just stop it! Why can’t I be me?”

Thus, Zendaya’s name was crossed out as well, and finally it said:

‘Velvet as HERSELF’

I nodded my head. “Much better.”

“Stay tuned for a post-credit scene!” Boomed Dr. Lynch’s voice.

Right. There was still that matter.

“Not happening!” I shouted, then ran toward the front where the credits were and kicked forward. As I did so, I hit a wall.

Literally.

Everything turned to black. But my eyes opened once more.

There was gas all around me. I began coughing uncontrollably and it ached just to stand. I didn’t understand why, but I did my best to break free, anyway. I banged my fists against the walls.

Pounding of fists.

It seemed like I was going to lose consciousness up until that jolted me back awake. I still couldn’t turn my head. All those popsicles were growing quite heavy. But, that sound. It must have been Velvet.

If she can do that...if she’s still trying…

I had to as well. It’s not enough that she could try to break free on her own. It had be me as well.

At first, all I could manage was to twitch my fingers. With each passing second, it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

But, if I can twitch my fingers…Yes!

I balled my hands into fists and with as much pressure as I could muster, I slammed my fists against the wall. It didn’t amount to much at first, but I kept trying. After a few tries, with increased force, my arms broke free and I could move them again.

However, the pain was excruciating. I cried out. I couldn’t cover my mouth.

“Hm? Oh, hello there,” Dr. Bob Ross turned to me. I raised my arm up and pressed the button on the backpack. Lasers fired around me and broke me free from the wall. With a thud, I landed.

After I brushed off the popsicle sticks, still disgusted, I looked up toward where that mad artist was.

“I’ll break Velvet out myself, then I’ll get up there and kick your ass! Mark my fucking words, you’re dead, kiddo!”

Dr. Bob Ross burst into laughter. “Okay, okay. Congratulations are in order. But you broke free a little sooner than I expected. I’m not ready for you yet.”

I cracked my knuckles and gave a fiendish grin. “Nobody’s ready for me. I can deal so much pain.”

“I’m going to need you to stay put and wait your turn,” she didn’t seem to heed my boasts at all. I watched her spin her finger, and from the ceiling, a giant claw reached down and pried my backpack off of me.

“Hey! What gives!”

She cupped her hands together and shouted: “Popsicle house time!”

“What?!”

Something dropped in front of me. Once again, I found myself confined.

Four walls. Small, dim, with a roof that was only a little above my head. My only reprieve was one window. I looked out: the room on the outside had grown brighter. I could see the encased area where Velvet was, but I no longer heard her knocks against the walls.

She better still be alive, dammit.

I leaned my head out a little more. Next to me was another popsicle house. Someone else leaned their head out: a bearded old man with gray, curly hair.

“She locked you up too, huh?”

I wasn’t about to dignify that with a response. Instead, I walked off to the other end of the popsicle house and ran toward the wall with full force, elbow in tow. Rather than the house breaking apart, all that happened was a world of hurt.

“Ow! Ow!” I winced. “Maybe I need to try harder.” I walked back, then ran again, with even more anger and drive. Again, nothing but pain.

“God damn! Who knew popsicles could be so sturdy?”

“Welcome to Gay Baby Jail,” the old man greeted once more. That time, I peeked out of the window once again.

“What did you call me?”

“That’s the name of the cell you’re in. Once she puts you in Gay Baby Jail, you’re not getting out unless she wants you to.”

I shook my head and lowered it against the window. “This is stupid…everything is so ridiculous.”

“This is your life now. Consider yourself a gay baby.”

“Ugh…” I groaned. “I am getting out of here. I don’t care how. I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because I have someone out there...we protect each other. I’m not saying I care about her, but she’s important to me and I’m going to do all that I can to make sure she’s well!”

Once again, I tried to break the walls that held me in. I wasn’t about to accept that it was useless. There had to be something I could do.

What wonderful muses I happened to acquire. Things were going so smooth that I almost felt like I needed to shake things up more. But patience. Those two were an inspiration, sure, but inspiration wasn’t instant. So while they were kept occupied, helping me along, I had to study them well.

“Now let’s see their character bios…” I pulled up a tablet. Just about everyone’s records was stored in The Flashbulb’s database. If we didn’t have a profile on them, well...I’d just have to make one, wouldn’t I? But let’s not be too hasty.

“What did they say their names were again? Velvet...and...Coriander? Is that right?”

Velvet was easy enough. Sure, there were many Velvets in most universes, but then there was matching a name to a face. Lucky for me, that also proved to be easy. Next was Coriander.

That one was a little harder. There were a few Corianders out there. More people named Cilantro, to be honest, but that was neither here nor there. But a Coriander that had some sort of relation to the Velvet whose profile was displayed in front of me? Unheard of. So instead I refined my search to all the people associated with that Velvet until I saw an image that matched “Coriander”.

My eyes lit up. Yes! YES!

“This! This right here! This is the inspiration I need!” Oh my, how interesting things were. To learn such things about those two. I could use that.

But enough about those two. They were a little preoccupied. My little muses were making me proud, reminding me of why I got into the game in the first place.

Yes: my backstory. Or more, my “midway” story. My humble origins as an intern for The Flashbulb, back when I was still among fellow artists. “But aren’t you still an intern?” The spectators might have asked, were there an audience to spectate on my thoughts. To answer those hypothetical spectators: yes. But there was an explanation for that.

It all started back in Flashbulb University (note: Flashbulb University was not an accredited university), a school where interns for The Flashbulb went, fully funded by the Education Department. We never really learned much, but the wiser of us would join clubs, otherwise we’d just get displaced and used as fodder for whatever tasks those in proper departments wanted done.

I had wandered down the halls, having gotten as lost as ever, when I pulled out my map. At the time, I developed a keen interest in the art of map making, as well as studying architecture. As it so happened to turn out, the layout of the university was...excuse my language...uncreative. If I had my way with the layout, well...I wouldn’t do anything. That wasn’t a medium I was willing to tackle just yet.

Yes. As loathe as I was to admit, there were certain arts that I would never be able to see myself doing. The art of cooking, the art of staying organized, the art of money management. Who needed any of those skills? Not me. Especially when I could just eat whatever was made at the cafeteria. My taste buds could handle anything, and not only that, I got to experience someone else’s art. Really digest it fully (most of the time).

One day in that very cafeteria, I met up with my fellow intern buddies, Dr. O’Keefe, Dr. Kahlo, Dr. Kubrick, and Dr. Méliès. Each of us were aspiring Flashbulb members as well as members of the Painting and A/V Clubs respectively.

“Every form of art will be available to you,” Dr. Louvre told me when I first joined. So naturally, the first thing I clung to was the art of film-making.

So we all sat, some of us eating tacos, others eating escargot. Me? I ate dried squid, of course.

“So what projects have you been up to?” Dr. Kubrick opened up the discussion.

“I’m studying a venus flytrap,” Dr. O’Keefe answered.

“I’ve been staring up at the moon,” it was Dr. Kubrick’s turn.

“No way! So have I!” Dr. Méliès replied, a hint of astonishment in his voice. Then, I glanced over and noticed the two staring into each other’s eyes.

“I see the moon in your eyes,” Dr. Kubrick uttered such words.

“I see the same in yours.”

Was that really so inspiring? Yes. In much the same way I found inspiration from a burning building, Van Gogh found inspiration from the night sky. With that in mind, inspiration could come from anywhere. No, not just anywhere. Everywhere. Every little thing.

So while everyone began to chat among themselves, I began to doodle. Nothing in particular. Unlike my father, it wasn’t so much nature that inspired me, but humanity. Rather, the vague shape that humans took on.

That must be the reason I was recruited, I thought while reminiscing. Back in the memory, I recalled what happened as soon as Dr. Kubrick and Dr. Méliès left.

Dr. Pollack showed up and slammed his fists on the table.

“Hey guys!” He looked around. “Sorry, I should be more discreet.”

He sat down. “Sorry, I’m just frustrated.”

“Having an art block?” I asked as I sipped on oyster milk.

“No. It’s this...this whole thing! Day in, day out, we’re stuck as interns.”

“Well, there’s no way out of it,” Dr. O’Keefe replied. “The Flashbulb isn’t known for its upwards mobility. If they decide to put us in a department, they will, otherwise, we’re here doing their chores for them and anything else that needs to be done that they don’t want to do. Of course, if someone decides to attack the main headquarters, they keep us around so we can be their human shields.”

“Some saviors of humanity, am I right?” He slumped over.

All that time since I’ve known them and I never realized they had such ambitions.

“You know, if you want to be part of a department so bad, it’s not all that hard?” I spoke up.

“What was that?”

“Yeah, ya heard me. Easy peasy.”

“How do you figure that? It’s not like there’s an A/V Department or an Arts and Crafts Department.”

“Of course not. But there is a Fine Arts Department.”

“Those guys? Really? They’re all a bunch of snooty snobs!”

I scowled. “The answer is right in front of you, yet you refuse to see it.”

“Fine, if you’re so smart, tell us.”

“We bring the Arts and Crafts club and the Painting club and the A/V club to them. We could be the first department with its own set of sub-departments. So if you want, present them the opportunity to expand the Fine Arts Department. Those guys love the word ‘expansion’. All you have to do is say ‘expand’ and they get all hot and bothered. Try it.”

Those three looked at each other, then ran off. Not long after, the plan was a success, and Dr. Louvre as well as Dr. Cannes approached me.

“We have you to thank,” Dr. Louvre towered over me and every syllable out of his mouth boomed. “Without your help, we wouldn’t be able to,” he drew a deep breath, breathed the words between his nondescript lips. “Expand.”

He cleared his throat. It seemed that word had quite a powerful effect on him.

“But what about you?” He continued. “Isn’t there something you should want? With your artistic talent, we could make you one of the leaders of the Fine Arts Department, alongside the likes of Dr. Cannes and I.”

I shook my head. “All I want is my own studio. Food prepared for me. All the art supplies I could ever need. An assistant. That’s all.”

“Very well. It shall be done.”

Yeah, that guy sounded so big and commanding, but in actuality, he was too afraid of my artistic talents and so the Fine Arts Department left one day to a version of Earth, with no specific mission attached. While I was content to stay in my studio, I wished they would have invited me. Shame, too. They never did come back to the headquarters, and ever since, it seemed as if most people were too afraid to visit me. They gave me food, water, any art supply I needed, but that was about it.

Oh well. That was all history (in the sense that there were many gaps and the information that was known paints an incomplete picture). I had two muses now, and I would help them reach their full potential. Speaking of, it was probably about time for Velvet’s next movie to start. It should start getting good now that the movies were going to dig deeper into her consciousness.

Ah, I should’ve known by now; the walls were too thick. My movements grew weaker. It hurt just to stand.

I need to...I need to rest a bit…I’m sorry.

Right before passing out, I had just one more thought: Aha! So that’s how it works!

Then darkness once more.

Once again, I found myself leaning against the window, my only reprieve.

Then, I heard the worst thing I could hear: nothing. No more knocks against those walls.

Has she given up?

I kicked the popsicle wall that held me and screamed out. After a few huffs, I paced about.

“She better not be dead! I won’t allow it!” I growled. “She’s too good for that!”

“Relax,” the old man in the other cell called out to me. “If anything, she’s just passed out. Her second movie is probably about to start. It usually takes at least four movies to kill someone.”

Of course. She passed out before. When she first met me from a previous life, she held me at gunpoint while I held her at laserpoint. Her gun was empty. Before my lasers could fire, the power went out. Then, she passed out. It ended up being up to me to carry her and I to a locker, as I was worried about whatever danger could have lurked. Those were memories I still had, as painful as it may have been to recap.

“That...that doesn’t reassure me.” Even still, I felt too defeated to do anything other than relax. So I went back to the window.

“Maybe if I had a lighter or a flamethrower or something…” I shook my head.

“What do you need one of those for?” The old man asked.

“Are popsicle sticks flammable? I mean, they’re wood, right?”

“Those are the questions which will haunt me up to my deathbed.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” I scolded. That was something I needed to tell myself as well, huh? Why was I so worried about someone who didn’t need worrying about, anyway? She was capable. So it was fine. Ugh. No it wasn’t.

I shook my head.

“I can’t do nothing, and it’s not because I don’t think I could survive on my own. That’s not the issue. We could both probably survive on our own. But, I mean, just in case, I’d like to be there…” No, that didn’t sound right. “Well, what I mean is, even if we could both survive on our own, I’d like us to not be on our own as long as we’re alive, y’know? Gosh, maybe I’m taking this whole ‘til death do us part’ too seriously.”

“You sure do care about her, huh? So what, you two married or something?”

“What?! Why would you think that? That’s ridiculous. Anyway,” I smiled. “Yeah, I do. Even though I was supposed to hate her, it somehow ended up like this. She can get on my nerves sometimes but I know she just likes to see my reaction. If it’s something that really bothers me, she knows not to do it. She knows when to be serious, too, and she can be really supportive.”

“Sounds like the real deal.” “Oh yeah. That’s not even going into her talents. She can find the smallest details in the shortest amount of time. Hell, she’s the very definition of ‘think on your feet’. Like, sure, most of the time she’s lazy as fuck, but then when push comes to shove, she really shines. Her hacking skills are unparalleled, and she’s so resilient. Able to take on foes far stronger than her and still maneuver around whatever obstacle in her way. Being able to improvise and use anything around her to her advantage. Honestly, she inspires me, and I hope I can inspire her too.”

I lowered my head against the edge of the window and shook it. I felt like tears were about to fall out. So, at the very least, I made sure to smile.

“What’s wrong with me?” I shook my head.

“You’re a gay baby, all right,” he sounded like a fucking sage.

“Shut it, you. No one asked.”

I thought that maybe if I used my environment to my advantage, just like how I described Velvet, maybe I could have broken out. But I saw nothing that I could use.

Even if that were the case, I wouldn’t give up.

Ugh. Talk about weird dreams. Something about a fisherman’s wife and a giant squid. Being a pirate sure was a mess.

I got up from my uncomfortable cot in my captain’s quarters and stumbled out. As my accursed luck would have it, I had a headache. Like all things, I blamed it on the sea.

Yes, that very sea in which our pirate ship, the Jo-Ann’s Revenge resided.

My body ached as I swayed to and fro, as if enchanted by a sickening sea shanty.

God damn, how much rum did I have last night?

“Mornin’ Velvetbeard,” ol’ paranoid Connard greeted in ever the dull tone. “I hear the marines have taught the parrots to read our minds. We must steady our guard.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay. Jot that down or something.”

Our crew ate our share of mackerel and sardines for breakfast all while we gathered around the table and made plans for our next raid.

“So there’s a trade ship that was spotted,” Connard reported.

“Do we know its contents?”

He nodded. “Doritos, fruit snacks, top ramen. All your favorites.”

“Hot pockets?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh...but when I think of all the sodium…” I leaned over the table and rested my head on it. “Can I just, like, go back to bed? I’ve got this massive headache and I’m tired of pirating.”

“I knew it!” The Jolly Kelly Roger barged in. “You’re not really a pirate, are you? You’re a spy for the marines!”

“The fuck? Forget the plank, I’ll throw you overboard with my bare hands.”

“Go ahead! I hear there’s a pirate ship full of catgirls and I’m prepared to swim over to them!”

I looked up. “Real shit?”

“Mm-hmm! Anyways, see ya. I’m off to cat paradise.”

Jolly Kelly Roger was never seen again.

Meanwhile, three years later, and I wasn’t quite sure what all happened, but Connard went to chill in some pyramid and I lost most of my crew. All that was left was Blanka, Connard’s best and only friend. Who for some reason decided to go with me of all pirates (people).

“How did it even come to this?” I shook my head. Three years, and the headache still hadn’t gone away. It was like a coconut kept dropping on my head every morning.

“Something something gray stoner pirates,” Blanka replied, although Blanka was no longer there.

It was up to me to take on the marines and the 51st Fleet all by my lonesome. So I did. I infiltrated their ranks by punching a hole in the bottom of their vessel and jumping up. To think it was common belief that it was impossible to sneak in. Ha.

I’ve already done it once before, in fact. Like, some odd years back. When I was a wee little Velvetbeard. My first mate, Violetbeard was rumored to have been captured by the 51st fleet, so I took it upon myself to sneak in and find her, for the thought of what horrifying things they could have done to her was too much for me to bear. Unfortunate for me, I never did find her, nor a trace that she was even there. The best I could manage was stealing a pirate ship from them. That is why the Jo-Ann’s Revenge exists.

Now, onto the sneaky pirate stuff…

“There’s gotta be something I can do,” my voice grew weary in what must have been such a short amount of time.

You’re nothing without your technology.

Maybe that was true at one point in time. Even if that was still true, anything could be technology if it could be utilized…

“Isn’t the right, popsicle stick sticking out on the ceiling?” I looked up. Such a faint hope. How to get there. But wasn’t that what my whole journey was built on? Some faint hope that I took a chance with and made it far enough to find myself where I was. So being “stuck” wouldn’t register to me. Even in my past life, though others were convinced I was stuck, I still tried and fought anyway.

There were “ledges” (so many quotations, I know. Bear with me), I could use. Flimsy, easy to break, but that lent me more hope than despair. All I needed was one, maybe even a few, and I could make my attempt…

So, one foot over the other one, and just a few steps more, and I had gotten the diamond stick in the rough. The wooden needle in the needlestack. Just as my luck had turned bright, I lost my footing and fell back onto the metal floor.

“Owwww,” I groaned. There went my youthful back. Now I welcomed the embrace of my newfound elderly back. Oh, and the embrace of several popsicle sticks. One of which, I held in my hand, and when I shook the rest off of me, I got to work.

“You okay over there?” The old man called.

“The okayest,” I scoffed. Then I got to work chiseling away at the wall in front of me.

“What are you doing, anyway?” “Well, old gay baby, I don’t know about you, but this gay baby wants to leave the crib.”

“She can see you, you know.”

“Let her try and stop me.”

“How bold.”

“I’m not bold, I just happened to make the first move.”

“Bold statement.”

That guy was frustrating me. But, deep breaths, I tried to play it cool.

“What are you even in there for, anyway? I just realized I never thought to ask.”

“I was hired as her assistant after the last one got set on fire and had to be hospitalized. I told her that her paintings should have more men in them, especially men in diapers. She scowled, put me in a diaper, then kept me in here.”

“Oh jeez. I’m sorry.”

“Why? It’s not all that bad once you get used to it. I actually rather enjoy it. Plus, I don’t have to go to the bathroom, because I’m always already there.”

Ew. Ew. EW.

“Okay, uh, what was your name again?”

“Dr. Michelangelo.”

That made too much sense.

“Okay, Dr. Michelangelo. You stay right there. I’m not breaking you out.” Once I was free, I hoped and prayed that I never had to meet him again.

Hold on, Velvet. This gay baby is learning to crawl.

So far, so good. The whole sneaking business was a go. Then came the inevitable.

“Jolene, I know you’re there! You stole my man!”

Shivers ran down my timbers. The unmistakable voice of Mustachebeard, the fearsome vice-admiral for the marines. For the record, yes, I did say I was Jolene when I infiltrated their ship last time, but no, I did not steal anyone’s man.

I did my best to avoid detection, knocking marines out one by one as I traversed the hallowed halls of the ship. I stole a musket off of one of the marines, which really helped once I made it above deck of the ship and found one of the vice-admiral’s lookouts. I ran up to her and before she had the chance to pull out her weapon, I pointed the musket I had looted right at her face.

“Y’arr. Name’s Velvetbeard. I’m here to steal your heart.”

“You,” she growled. “I heard you’re the worst pirate to have ever existed.”

“Nah, there’s worse. There’s gotta be, right? I mean, I can’t be that bad, can I?”

I pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. As it turned out, the musket had no ammo. That, and I didn’t know how a musket worked.

“Nice try,” she smirked. “Now men! Fire!”

Behind her was a firing squad, which meant that I was as good as dead. But instead, everything went black. Everything began to spin in place.

That girl, whatever her name was...was kind of cute.

Yes. There was the headache, in full force. My head felt ready to split itself open and all the contents would spill forth for the world to see. It all felt both so uneasy and yet so familiar. As if it was all a rehash of something that I had been a part of before. Something long gone.

It was but a small opening, but that opening was good enough for me. Like a baby, I crawled through and as soon as I was out, I ran over to the metal box that Velvet was trapped in. I kept banging my fists against it.

“I’m impressed, but at the same time, I wish you’d slow it down! She’s got at least two more movies left in her! The next one will surely dig deep into her psyche.”

“Not. Gonna. Happen,” I growled.

That same gloved metal claw came, likely to pick me up. Some artist Dr. Bob Ross was if she thought I was going to be fooled twice. I swerved to my side to avoid the reach, then I grabbed on to the metal spring and I began to hit the wall with the metal claw.

I was awoken by that same lookout, the one I thought was kinda cute. We were in the middle of a cabin. She shook me awake. As it stood, I was grape jelly.

“Come on, we gotta work together if we wanna make it out.”

“Ugh...what happened?” I rubbed my forehead.

“We were invaded by the Polo Wearing Pirates. Fearsome bandits, they are. As much as I hate to admit it, I need your help. Everyone else aboard the ship has died.”

“Oh, I see what’s going on. Some kind of enemies to lovers type thing, right?”

“Wrong. This is serious. We will never be anything more than enemies.”

“Then why did you kiss my forehead?”

I paused.

She was gone. I was somewhere else. In the clouds? Or aboard another pirate ship. Or in a room, where my former first mate was, Violet. Just Violet.

“Why hello,” Violet greeted.

“What...what are you doing here?”

“You wanted to see me. So I am here.”

“But…” It was ten years. Tears began to trickle down. “I can accept you being gone.”

I knew where I was. At a park. Close to where the school was.

“You’re still the same timid Velvet I knew.”

“How do I escape this movie?” I demanded. Was it me coming back to my senses? No. It was just something that came out.

She approached me. Between the high seas and what I thought to be the closing credits. But maybe they were cornflakes in the wind.

“You wish you knew what happened to me. But you never will. That you may have accepted, but it will still be on your mind. The thought of what became of me. Whether I lived or died, and if I lived, have I lived a good life?”

I shook my head. “Maybe I wonder from time to time. Maybe you will always be someone that I’ll miss. But you know what? So will anyone else that I meet. I’ve accepted that I’m not the type to forget people, no matter how big or small the impact. So...deal with it.”

Yes. That was what they called a flashback. Or forward. Or somewhere in between, on the side. Because I was still next to that blue haired spice.

“So you see, ten years ago there was someone who knew me as someone else. I’m still an anxious person from time to time, but I’m also much more than that. In fact, some would even go as far as to call me ‘badass’.”

“What are you talking about?” My enemy, not lover, asked.

“I...maybe you’ll find out in a later stage of our relationship,” I teased. We got up, but I fell again.

“Sorry,” I croaked. “Now I must inform you that I feel like I am dying.”

My eyes. They eclipsed.

Pounding sounds began to erupt, like my own heartbeat. I clutched my chest, but that didn’t feel right.

“Oh no!” The blue haired wonder cried out. “We have to hurry! The ship is exploding! Our ship is going down!”

I tried to get up, but I could feel the heat. Smoke rose up all around us and I started to cough. Not only was the rest of the ship on fire, but so were my lungs.

There.

At last, the box was broken. Gas leaked out and dissipated. I covered my mouth, but I could still feel the effects making me dizzy. Not to mention that I already felt weak from my previous two ordeals.

I looked around and there Velvet was, on the floor. I rushed to her.

“Hey! Hey!” I shook her.

“Our ship is sinking…” I heard her mutter.

“No it’s not! See, I’m right here!”

I held her against me. It took me a few more seconds to register that she was just asleep, but even still, I needed her awake. Then, I thought of something.

“Hey if you wake up, I’ll kiss you on the lips.”

Her eyes shot open. “Real shit?” She uttered with a groggy voice. Then she looked over and saw that it was me, “oh hey, enemies to lovers.”

I groaned. “I wish you wouldn’t remind me.”

Now, there was just one other matter to attend to...but before I could get to that, Velvet tugged at my shirt collar.

“What about the kiss?”

“Can’t it wait? We’re in the middle of a fight.”

“No.”

I let out an exaggerated sigh, then leaned in and gave her a peck.

“Really?! That’s it?! Come on!” She jolted up.

“I’ll do it for real later,” then I turned my attention to what was behind her: the gun that she had before passing out. I took it and almost dropped it, the damn thing was so heavy. Just a few more steps, though, and I would then part with it.

“Hey Popsigirl!” I yelled.

From atop the pillar, I saw a hand emerged which then proceeded to wave at me.

I growled, then threw the gun at the pillar. All the popsicle sticks began falling down, one by one, as the mad artist’s tower crumbled.

Court dismissed.

#happiness overload #scifi #surreal #comedy #drama #gay #writing #stories #fiction #velvet #coriander #pirates #superheroes

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kauladoeswriting · 4 years

Text

Life Will Change, Prologue

What you see here is possibly my weirdest passion project, and frankly I’m a little terrified to share it. But what the hell, I might as well get it over with. If I keep tweaking it it’ll never get posted. No beta we die like men. Yell at me if there’s any weird continuity errors.

While knowledge of neither series is necessarily needed, it will probably make it more enjoyable. Fandom: Rockman.EXE/Persona 5 Fusion Wordcount: 1764

AO3

Next Chapter

November 18th, 2016

After School...

"After him!"

The night sky glittered through the windows as Joker ran by, moving along the sills of the window with grace born in practice and time.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were intentionally leading them on," Nurse commented in his ear.

"Psh, nah. You know how no nonsense he is! He wouldn't do that!" Ribbon responded. Despite her words, her tone revealed she was as joking as Nurse.

"He's going to get caught if he doesn't stop," Rock scolded. "There's an air vent to your left, Joker. Take it."

"Lighten up, Rock!" crooned Light. "You and Nurse worry way too much!"

"Worry? You misunderstand me, Light. Joker's just an idiot." They could almost imagine Nurse tapping her foot without even seeing it.

"I think none of you are taking this with appropriate seriousness." Soldier jumped in. "The only ones even trying seem to be myself, Rock, and Popup." No one could see Soldier, as he was off by himself, but they could hear his frown loudly over the comms.

"Because we should act like a dog?" Light asked, immediately followed by a yelp as someone smacked him. If Joker had to guess, it was Ribbon or Popup.

"How about you're all a distraction and really need to be quiet?" Joker asked, grinning all the same. He had taken Rock's advice, pulling himself up into the vents and let himself out into maintenance hallways, avoiding the guards chasing him for now.

With a quick look around to make sure he really alone, he crept down the hallway, leaping from shadow to shadow. He ducked behind a plush chair as a pair of guards ran by, hoping to catch any one of the nine thieves currently running about the building. They ran by the leader, but of course, they didn’t notice him.

They never did.

Climbing through the building had led Joker to the upper floors. Okay, going up made things a little tougher, but he had accepted that escaping from down below was hopeless on foot. “HALT!”

Oh, wonderful. He was found again. How were they tracking him so fast, exactly?

“There’s no way around! Joker, you’ll have to fight your way through!” Rock’s voice echoed in his ear, the navigator trying his hardest to manage all of the escapes at once. (He really didn’t envy the navigator’s job.)

Drawing his sword from his sheath, he took a wide slash, striking both of the blob like security guards and causing them to dissolve. In a moment, they were more solid demons, something he could actually fight. Have to finish this quickly! Joker grabbed his mask, summing a figure with long flowing hair next to him. “Let’s do this in one shot.” The figure readied it’s blade, wreathed in dark energy.

“EIGAON!” The swordsman next to him drew his sword back, and then in one fluid movement, tore straight through the opposing shadow. Not waiting a moment longer, Joker drove his sword straight through the chest of the shadow’s friend, drawing his pistol quickly and shooting it for good measure.

“And that’s that.” He said, pleased, tucking his weapons back into their respective holsters. “Good one Joker! Now get going!” Rock encouraged.

“Watching him fight is fun, can we look for more things to- OW! Will you stop that?” Light complained, more shuffling as he evidently swung back this time. “Are you trying to get us in trouble?” Ribbon asked.

Shaking his head, Joker took off down the hall way, continuing his hunt for a safe way out. Whatever map he was using, apparently Rock was unable to give him more useful directions.

He was at the top of the building now, looking for a way out when the guards found him a second time. He could fight his way out, or he could do the fun thing…. How much did he feel like channeling Light?

With guards on both sides, and a 5 on 1 match seeming unlikely, even with his skill and variety, Joker decided that channeling Light was in fact the best option here. Pivoting on his heel, Joker faced the huge window directly to his left, and with a few steps back, launched himself straight into it, guarding his face with his arms. For the briefest of seconds, Joker let himself fly through the air, before shifting to head down and land on his feet. For a precious few seconds, Joker thought he might have actually made it outside safely, and that he’d escape from the building unharmed.

And then all at once, the world in front of him lit up with the spotlights of SWAT officers. Oh. Oh hell. Pivoting on his heel, Joker jumped up to grab the fire escape ladder, encouraged by the chanting of his teammates in his ears. He climbed as quickly as he could.

In the back of his mind, he could feel everyone yelling at him, warning of incoming danger. Not just his teammates either. Officers greeted him at the top of the ladder. Even though he knew they were coming, Joker couldn’t help looking surprised. Even more so, when they stomped on his hands, forcing him to let go and sending him spiraling back to the ground.

This time, Joker wasn’t able to control his plummet.

The following was a flurry of motion and noise, as his comm link was torn away and he lost contact with his teammates, amid their worried commentary. “So young, huh?” Commented one officer, grabbing Joker’s face and roughly examining it, as if to get an idea who he was behind his mask. “To think that an actual kid has been committing this string of crimes…” Joker hoped the glare came across the way he wanted it to. With his arms pinned with an adult’s full bodyweight to his back, there’s not much else he can do. “You were sold out, you know.” Another officer, this one far more arrogant sounding, knelt down next to Joker. “You can thank your teammates for this.”

And then Joker’s world went dark.

========

When Joker came to, it was not to the same beautiful building he had fallen asleep in. Rather, it was in a concrete room he had never seen before, with two officers staring him down. He blinked slowly, trying to process the world around him.

His face was bare. His mask was missing. And looking down revealed that he wasn’t wearing a a tuxedo of any kind, or any kind of weapons; just his day clothes.

“Assault, Murder, Grand Larceny, Obstruction of Justice, Property Damage, and more.” The officer was reading his charges. “Quite an impressive rap list for someone who is like, 17 years old?” He asks. Joker glared, not willing to respond to them. If they expect him to cooperate with them, they had another thing coming.

Apparently, the officer with the clipboard had the same idea. “Now, kid. You can make this easy, or you can make it hard. We have a confession prepped for you. All you have to do is sign.” Still not willing to open his mouth, Joker shook his head no, trying as much to shake the worry of his teammate’s safety as he is trying to push away the orders of the officer. He needed to hold his ground. They knew the plan, he had to trust they carried it out.

The officer didn’t agree with Joker’s vow of silence, shoved the chair over, throwing the teen to the ground. “Think you can be a real smart guy, eh? We’ll get your name, one way or another, kid.”

Blue eyes wandered to the camera in the back corner, behind the officer. The officer turned to see what Joker was looking at, and then laughed. “Are you hoping for the camera to save you kid? That someone will see this and come to your rescue? Let me burst your bubble; They don’t come to save criminals like you.” The clipboard is roughly shoved in Joker’s face again, as someone realized they should probably release his hands if they expected him to write. “Don’t even think about lying kid. You’ll just be caught immediately.” He chuckled, as if it were funny. “Not that you could anyways.” Deciding to cooperate to avoid another harsh hit like that, even though he was confused by the statement, Joker raised his hand to write his name on the clip board.

Ijuuin Enzan

The officers looked at the name for a moment. “Isn’t it that kid of that CEO…?” Asked one.

“The one who got in trouble over assaulting a politician?” The other officer confirmed it with a nod.

“You’re going away for a long time kid.” The one that had shoved the clipboard in his face kicked him again, almost completely for ‘good measure’ at this point.

And then he was alone.

=======

Enzan finally climbs to his feet and at least rights hs chair. He was stuck in this room for the foreseeable future. He was waiting for a certain someone, but that person had to actually show up… and a part of him couldn’t help but worry that all their planning was for naught.

Those worries were assuaged when a woman with her hair in a ponytail, wearing a clean pink suit with a blue tie. If anyone could make that look professional… “Ijuuin-kun. I apologize, but we’ll need to make this as quick as you can manage.” She got right to work, setting the folder in her arms down and spreading them across the table. “I have had some time bought for me by my superior, but unfortunately they seem insistent you don’t get a fair shot.” Enzan couldn’t say he was surprised. With a rap sheet like his, he can’t imagine anyone wanted to see him walk free. If only they knew….

“We have been told...things about how you committed your crimes.” Manabe began slowly. “However, the explanations are… spotty at best.”

Enzan nodded. They sounded unbelievable to him even know, and he had been at this for the better part of a year.

“They say you steal hearts, and fittingly, all those your target have make a complete 180 in their behavior. Ijuuin-kun, I need you to tell me everything so I can make an effective defense. I know their… methods, may make talking a little hard, but I need you to try.” Her nose crinkled a little bit at the comment. “You have to try.” “From the beginning?” Enzan spoke finally.

“From the beginning.” Manabe agreed.

“Well. It started in early April ...”

#megaman battle network #rockman.exe #mmbn #persona 5 #fanfic #life will change

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vanillacaramelhoney · 5 years

Text

Look for Me (12/12)

Pairing(s): Robin Buckley x Reader

Summary: Princess Robin Buckley, since the age of eight, was always seen with another girl- (Y/n) (L/n). They always chose to be together, but when (Y/n) is chosen as one of Robin's personal guards, they're practically tied together. It seems innocent to everyone, but so much more can happen behind closed doors.

Warning(s): Mentions of blood, implied death, poor writing

A/N: I hope y’all regret asking for this. Stream the acoustic version of where’s my love by syml for depression. I just want you to listen to it- it doesn’t even need to be right now.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

That Day

Silence is one of those things that drags on. It makes it seem that time passes much slower than it actually is.

Silence can be maddening.

There were so many things she could think about in the time it would take for Robin and her father to stop fighting. There were so many things she could think about before the inevitable.

So, she sat in silence. The only thing she could hear was her heart beating and her heavy breathing with the occasional footsteps passing the room she was shoved in.

(Y/n) had no idea how long she had been in the room, nor did she know how much longer she'd be in it.

The door opened with a loud creak, drawing (Y/n)'s attention.

Two guards stood in the doorway, staring her down. One signaled for her to stand.

Apparently, she wasn't staying for much longer. But where would she be going?

She could think of several options, but it seemed to be a simple room change- to the dungeons.

Okrynth was a very crime free kingdom- there were only a few people currently locked up. Very few people were brought down, so when (Y/n) was, all eyes were on her as she passed.

The guards stationed her in a cell, locked it, and left her to the silence again.

Robin's mind was a mess, and her throat was sore from yelling and arguing with her father for nearly six hours straight.

Her body was still high on adrenaline, and it wouldn't be coming down any time soon.

Right now, though, she needed to get to (Y/n).

Robin hurried down the corridor that led to the room (Y/n) was waiting in. Only, she got pulled aside.

She came face to face with Steve- she only recognized him because of (Y/n) hanging around him.

"What are you doing?" Robin asked, pulling her arm away.

"She is not there anymore," Steve told her.

"What?"

"(Y/n)- she got moved to the dungeons hours ago," he explained.

Robin cursed under her breath- it was her luck to miss her.

Steve went fishing through his pocket. He pulled out a delicate black key.

"It should unlock any of the cell doors, along with the door to the dungeons," Steve said, placing it in her hand.

"Do you even know why she is in there?" Robin asked, showing apparent disbelief that he would help her.

"You two are dating, got caught, and she is taking the fall for it, yadda, yadda, yadda. I'm not an asshole," Steve waved her off. "Go get your girlfriend." He nudged her forward.

Without hesitation, Robin dashed off and threw a quick "thank you" back to Steve. She navigated her way through the castle, doing her best to remain unseen. The last thing she needed right now was for someone to stop her.

She reached the hall that led to the dungeons, hiding behind a pillar. She peeked over, glaring at the sight of two guards standing off to the side of the door.

She couldn't use the excuse that her father wanted to talk to them- they are smart enough to know that it's a lie. If she asked to speak to (Y/n), they would follow her to make sure she didn't try anything. While they didn't directly focus on the door, it was impossible for Robin merely to sneak past them.

There was nothing she could do. But, it seemed that Steve had thought ahead for her.

She could barely see him approach the guards. She had no idea what he said to them, but they walked off. He looked down the hall and caught her gaze before waving her over.

Robin left her hiding spot and headed to the door. Steve left as she approached, most likely going to distract the guards.

She quickly unlocked the door and slipped inside before anyone could possibly catch her.

Moving down the stairs as fast as she could, Robin didn't bother being quiet. All she would do is disturb the people locked up, and it wasn't like they would do much.

She walked down the corridor, checking in every cell as she passed. There were many empty ones, and the criminals were all spaced out.

Finally, she managed to find (Y/n).

The girl sat near a corner of the cell, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

The sound of Robin's footsteps stopping in front of her cell drew her attention. Her eyes widened, and she raced to stand. She approached the bars that separated them.

"What are you doing down here?" (Y/n) asked, watching as Robin unlocked the door. She swung it open, staring at (Y/n). "Robin?"

"We need to leave."

"He didn't change his mind, did he?" (Y/n) whispered.

Robin bit her lip, tears beginning to collect. That was all (Y/n) needed.

"Robin...," (Y/n) trailed off.

"We need to leave," Robin repeated. "I'm sure we can find somewhere safe to go."

(Y/n) shook her head. "No."

"What do you mean, 'no?'" Robin asked.

"You cannot throw your life away for me," (Y/n) told her. "I am not going to mess up your life by making you do that."

"You are not making me do anything," Robin said. "I am choosing to do this."

"I know, but that doesn't change anything," (Y/n) whispered. She brought her hands and cupped Robin's cheeks. "Go back upstairs."

"(Y/n), I can't leave you," Robin whimpered. Her tears began collecting where (Y/n)'s hands cradled her cheeks.

"Hey," (Y/n) choked, tearing up. "Look for me, okay?" Robin knew what she meant.

(Y/n) could hear the footsteps of multiple people approaching the dungeons. They were coming for her.

"You need to go," (Y/n) said, urgency in her voice.

"No," Robin tried to resist. Her hands came up to grip (Y/n)'s wrists.

"Robin, you have to," said (Y/n). "If they do anything to you, I will be devastated."

"And what about you? What about what they are going to do to you?!" Robin cried, tears coming down faster.

(Y/n) smiled sadly at her, the tears finally streaking down her cheeks.

"If you are safe, I could care less about myself," she said. "As your guard, I must protect you."

"No. You have to listen to me! You have to come with me! I can't let him hurt you!" Robin pleaded. "Please. Out of all the times you decide not to listen to me, do not make this one of those times!"

(Y/n) leaned in to press a kiss to Robin's lips, distracting her.

She slowly led the girl back into the cell. They pulled away and let go of each other as (Y/n) stepped around Robin.

"(Y/n)?" Robin's voice was nearly nonexistent.

"I have to keep you safe," (Y/n) whispered. She tore the key from Robin's hand and ran out of the cell.

Before Robin could reach it, she closed the cell door and locked it, leaving Robin to grasp onto the bars.

As much as it broke (Y/n)'s heart, she ignored Robin's cries to let her out.

The girl wiped her tears away and walked off, leaving Robin behind her.

When she reached the stairs, she stopped when a guard appeared. He seemed momentarily shocked to see her out of her cell but shook it off when more guards joined him.

"How the hell did you get out?" one asked.

She tossed the key to them, keeping a blank expression.

"You, uh," (Y/n) clear her throat, trying not to break. She pointed a thumb behind her. "You might want to go check on her."

The group of guards glanced amongst one another before two broke off to pass her.

"So, is everything ready then?" she asked.

"Are you going to cooperate, or do we need to shackle you?"

"Not necessary," (Y/n) said. "Lead the way."

With two guards grasping her arms, they led her off.

Back in the cell, Robin could see the two approaching guards. She waited impatiently, tapping her foot. She bit her nails out of nervousness.

The guards were surprised to see her standing in the cell.

"Let me out," she pleaded.

The guard with the key did such, unlocking the door and opening it for her.

Robin immediately rushed past them, ignoring their yells for her to stop.

She sped up the stairs and into the hall. She looked around for a sign of which way they had taken (Y/n), but there was nothing.

Robin chose to follow the hall that would take her out of the castle the quickest.

"Robin! Hey! Robin!" Steve's voice called her.

Hesitating, she stopped to let him catch up.

"Where's (Y/n)?" he asked.

Robin bit her lip. "She locked me in the cell and left. The guards were coming," she answered.

"Shit," Steve muttered. "Come on!" He pulled her forward, and they ran to one of the many exits of the castle.

They ended up at the front of the castle.

Despite the distance, they could see a crowd taking up the entire town square.

Steve urged Robin along. If they were quick enough, they could make it in time. It was a very slim chance, but Robin had to take it.

Steve led her along every shortcut he knew to get there faster.

They reached the edge of the loud crowd. In the center of everyone was (Y/n), Robin's father, and several guards.

Robin's heart rate spiked.

She tried to run forward, but Steve wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her away.

"Steve, let me go!" Robin cried.

"It's too late," he whispered to her. "It's too late."

"It's not. It's not!" Despite her cries, Robin knew he was right. There was no saving her lover. Still, she struggled in Steve's grasp.

"You don't need to see this," Steve reasoned as he tried to pull her away.

She shook her head, continuing to beg for him to release her.

Robin could faintly see (Y/n) find her eyes. She offered a sad smile that spoke volumes.

Both knew that sooner or later, they'd be caught, and one of them would have to pay the consequences.

That day had come.

Robin fell back into Steve, who sat her down on the ground.

The sight of her lover's blood pooling and soaking into the wooden platform made her sick to her stomach.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #steve harrington #stranger things robin #robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley one shot #robin buckley oneshot #look for me

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melyaliz · 5 years

Text

Canary 8

Canary Masterlist

Fandom: Marvel / MCU

Summary: All I had meant to do was make a friend smile, guess that’s not even ok anymore.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Notes: This was going to be something different and then it turned into this. Like so different that I even had cover art that totally didn’t fit.

Loki and Canary wanted this I guess.

💛PLEASE: Like, Comment, and/or Reblog 💛

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

--------------------------

“So this is it”

“This is it!?! This isn’t just it... this is the AVENGERS!”

“Yeah, ok it’s pretty great isn’t it?”

“More like pure amazing.”

“Well don’t act all fangirly, we do have a reputation around here.”

“Aye Aye captain.”

“And leave that captain stuff for the boy in blue.”

---------------------

Ok so I’m not going to lie, I mean at this point I feel like we have all gotten close. We have seen some real shit together and well…

When I first met Steve Rogers I was smitten.

But like if we are all being really honest with ourselves… who isn’t?

Have you seen that man? Those abs? Those baby blue eyes?

That ass?

And let me tell you, all that stuff is EVEN MORE gorgeous up close and personal.

Plus he was just so nice to me when I first came. Back then, when I was so nervous and young. My powers had just become basically viral thanks to some kids who were quick on the draw with their phones. (But that’s a story for another day) My whole world had been shifted from the small-town girl to an Avenger. During those days I didn’t feel like I fit in here or there.

But Steve took the time to help me feel right at home. Making time ask me every day how I was settling in and taking the time to lean my interests and finding ways to bring them to the base.

He was also the one who pushed Wanda and I to hang out and now we are basically best friends.

Every morning I would look forward to our breakfasts together where we would talk about our past lives. How we were adjusting to the changes we had gone through and ways to cope. I would always feel my heart skip a beat when he would be waiting for me to train during the day.

Those first days were so awkward because every single touch would set my body on fire.

Then slowly, as the days stretched into months my flames started to dull into embers.

Somewhere along the line my infatuation with him slowly faded into adoration and then a friendship.

When that happens, though, I’m not quite sure. Feels recent but I can’t be for sure. It was as if one day Steve turned from the most beautiful man I had ever seen into just... a man.

---------

“So how is the music Sam has been forcing… I mean letting you borrow?” the Canary asked as she helped Steve unload the new equipment Tony had brought back. More fun trinkets for him to tinker with in his evil lair.

Which he, of course, had dumped on Steve to unload, claiming to be too busy at the moment.

“Good but there is something about those big bands that I miss.”

“Ohhh back in my day”

Steve laughed at her playful tone, “There is something about just a good song that makes you want to dance to it.”

“Were you a good dancer back in the day?”

Steve shrugged thinking back to the days when he could barely get a woman to look at him. When Bucky would basically force him on millions of dates with uninterested women. But as the night wore on, and the music would play he would always find that one wallflower who would be swayed by herself and take her across the floor.

“My mom taught me a few moves and Bucky and I use to go dancing all the time.”

“You know I took swing back in the day too.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, some woman from our school decided to teach it over a summer as a way to keep wayward teens from getting into trouble.”

Steve burst out laughing at her tone, making it the perfect pitch to sound like some slightly uptight busy body. “You never told me that.”

Canary shrugged as the last box was put into place. It felt like a lifetime ago. Her mother giving her a dress and dance shoes. The other girls and boys standing in line trying to follow the movements. That was before her powers had shown up.

Before she was the canary.

“Well, may I have this dance?”

“There’s no music.”

“Well, I know a place that does.”

“Then you’re on.” then true inspiration struck, “Actually,” the wheels turning in her brain, a plan. A way to give back to the man who had given her so much when she had first come here, “Let’s say six in the gym.”

“Ok, can I ask why?”

She let out a sort giggle shaking her head as she skipped toward the door, “Nope!”

------------------------------------

Sam grumbled the whole time. Tony didn’t even show up. But Vision was game and Wanda was always happy to help.

After all, Steve always did whatever he could to fit into our time, why couldn’t we try and fit into his?

Plus I needed a distraction from a certain green-eyed (not so) God.

And that look on Steve’s face when he walked in was a nice bonus. It was as if his whole body light up at the sight of the balloons, lights and the music blasting from the speakers with a little help from your’s truly.

“Spotify is a magical thing,” I told him taking his hand dragging him into the room. “They had a whole playlist of top 40’s songs.”

“Can I have this first dance?” Steve asked

“Of course”

An hour later and I was breathless swinging around the room. The music flying around matching the bright lights, sharp horns and deep drums with clean voices. My fingers buzzed with the sounds as flowed around me as I danced. The rest of the team enjoying themselves just as much.

I’m sure the liquor Tony brought helped. (Yeah, he ended up showing up a while after Steve. Not one to miss out on any fun.)

“Oh now I LOVE this one,” Steve said as another tune came on grabbing my hand swinging me around. Sam tipped his glass.

“This brother sure can sing”

It took all my willpower to make the music swallow my laughs as Steve moved me around the room. It helped he was so strong, being able to pick me up and spin me around, it almost felt like I was flying.

My feet hit the ground in time with the music pulling close and then spinning out.

And hitting something.

“Mind if I cut in?”

The music seemed to wash down around me, cold like ice water dripping with sing like poison. Those green eyes looked down at me like a snake about to strike a mouse.

------------------

They were so loud Loki wasn’t surprised they hadn’t woken up hell itself. Screaming and yelling while the music blasted from the gym. The sight that greeted him was no different.

The loud music filled the room as the team of dorks stood around drinking and talking. The Witch and robot were swaying comfortably while the soldier moved in time around the room with his partner.

Loki’s Canary.

A huge smile on the young woman’s face as she looked up at Mr. America. Eyes shining and bright as the music seemed to follow them. Spun around in rhythm as if she was controlling it, maybe she was.

He had never seen her this way.

She was glowing.

And it made his sick.

Standing in the doorway he waited, bided his time. Waiting for that opening, that moment when he could pounce on his prey.

The song swelled up and then came crashing down, the beautiful horns making their last trumpets as the chorus was sung. Spinning around them as Justice Man and his partner moved across the dance floor.

Loki was a snake in the grass, moving so smoothly and deliberately he went undetected until his sound mistress was colliding with his chest.

The look of shock she gave him was so beautiful he allowed himself a small smile. She (almost) always had a way of reacting just how he planned.

“Mind if I cut in.”

-----------------

Of course, the song changed to a slow one.

Of flipping course.

Steve shot me a concerned look, making sure I was ok with the turn of events.

It was like all my walls came flying up so fast I almost didn’t see them happening. They knew they knew how uncomfortable I was and had come rushing to my defense.

“Don’t” Loki’s voice was gentle but firm. Razors cutting into me as his eyes roamed me.

“Don’t what?”

“You know what,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. The walls, how did he always know? His hands were cold angst my warm ones as he intertwined them lead me to the center of the room. It was a good thing my face was already flushed because being this close while Billie Holiday crooned about love was adding a layer to my already confusion emotions that I didn’t want to have to justify at the moment.

Couldn’t I just have one day of peace?

“I’m honestly surprised you know how to do the waltz” change the subject, focus on anything but his large hand on my back.

“I know many things” his voice was thick and deep, like chocolate. Bittersweet in my ears as he leaned in just a bit closer. “I am after all, much older than anyone else in this room.”

“I just can’t see you in a 40’s club.”

“I would never lower myself to be with mortals, but I do happen to be a collector of the arts.”

“Well, then what drew you to these mere mortals today?”

“Like I said, I’m a collector of the arts.” Maybe it was the tone in which he said it, of the way his tongue flicked out for a moment over his lower lip, or how his eyes seemed to wash over me but I suddenly felt very… naked.

And I was very aware of everyone around me.

“I’m not a piece of art.” my words were strong and blunt. No more games, no more veiled innuendos. I’m tired.

His eyes narrowed at my tone as I tugged at his hand. “What? You can spend hours dancing with boy bland there but when someone with real class…”

“I set this up for Steve thank you very much.”

I could feel the anger boiling around me, the music seemed to fade away into silence, just the two of us locked in a staring contest. “And I don’t appreciate you talking about him like that. He’s my friend.”

“Is he now? Is that all he is.”

How dare he… I could feel my face lighting up hot. Memoires of me crushing on Steve for weeks. Thinking about ways to be around him, just be in his beautiful presence. That past me was just so pathetic and even the thought that somehow Loki seemed to be able to see that sent me into a whole new furry. Fight or flight.

I mean he couldn’t really see it but… It felt like he could.

“This sort of dancing will never get you what you want.” he said leaning forward his face only inches from him, “the kind of dancing you need soft and slow, somewhere alone.”

I wanted to blast him across the room. I wanted to run. I wanted to… I wanted to…

“Why do you care?” my heart was racing so fast I could barely hear my own words as I spoke them. I could barely hear anything but that pounding of my heart in my ears.

Gently his hand reached up brushing away a few strands of my hair out of my face, letting them get tangled in his long fingers “Because you’re mine.”

My hand grabbed his pulling it away, “I’m no ones.”

-GET TAGGED!-

Tagging: @royslittleharper @the-shadow-of-atlantis @coffee-randomness @daisyboobear @nilthanious @jason-redhood @hello-i-lovespiderman-blr @ocelysium @pinkwitch21 @tomhncharliep

Loki: @wayward-hell

Canary: @baybay123455 @rizanendoza808 @dragonrosegardens @6-daughter-of-a-witch-6 @califorina-grown @2s0uls @oh-no-a-whovian @it-jinxed-us @pixiehex1985

#Loki #Loki fanfic #loki x reader #Loki x You #Loki x oc #Loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson #Marvel #Marvel x oc #Marvel x reader #Marvel fanfic #mcu x reader #MCU x oc #MCU fanfic #my writing #my story #canary

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creator-zee · 4 years

Text

10 years ago...

Madison leaned against me as we watched the movie on my bed. I glanced up as I saw my mom pass by the door. She suddenly paused and glared at me.

“Montana, can I please have a word with you? It’s about your father.”

I nodded. “Of course, Mom.”

Madison sat up as I slid off my bed and walked into the hallway. Mom grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the door.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I shuffled nervously under her piercing gaze. “Uh, watching a movie?”

She glared at me. “I meant with Madison. You two were awfully close.” She lowered her voice to a harsh whisper, and leaned down. “You’re not a lesbian are you? You now that gays like that ruined or family. Just look at your father, leaving me for some man. You better not be one of them Montana.” She straightened back up and returned her voice to normal. “Go back and finish the movie now, dear.”

I nodded and hurried back to my bed sitting farther away from Madison ignoring her questioning glance.

Present Day...

I tucked my back pack under the table as I pulled out my lunch. I was sitting by myself as usual. I had drifted apart from many of my childhood friends and never tried to make anymore. I saw Madison and her friend group walk by on the way to their table. I couldn’t help but admire how one of her friends, Dana, I think looked in the outfit she was wearing today. I quickly dropped my gaze, as I saw Madison looking at me. I went back to focusing my attention on my sandwich. Unfortunately, I ate it too quickly to last as a distraction for long. I shoved the bag back in my backpack to throw away before pulling out my sketchbook. I flipped to an open page and pulled out my phone to look up a reference image. I had been obsessed with this one show recently and wanted to draw some fan art. What’s the harm? Only I would ever see it.

Too soon the bell rang and I was forced to abandon my drawing in favor of going to biology class. Oh joy of joys I got to go be confused about neurons. I sighed as I entered the crowded hallways, senior year couldn’t end fast enough so I could just go to college already. I was sick of high school. Oh well, three more periods and I could go home.

Home sweet home. I stepped out of the truck my mom had gotten me for my 16tg birthday and headed up the path to the house. I opened the door calling out to announce my arrival.

“Mom. I’m home.”

No response. She must not be home. I headed up the stairs up to my room and tossed my backpack on the floor. I collapsed onto my be sighing. I really didn’t want to do my homework. But, alas, this is the curse of the teenager. I somehow managed to summon up the willpower to get up and open up my backpack and pull out my schoolwork. I decided to also grab my sketchbook. I couldn’t finish my sketch then I would do my homework.

I was midway through a biology worksheet on action potential when my mom knocked on my door and walked in. What’s the point of knocking if you just walk in?

“Hey Montana, How was your day sweetie?”

I shrugged. “Good Mom. If you don’t mind I have some homework I need to focus on.”

She nodded. “Of course, just let me see what you drew and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Wait no!” I lunged for my sketchbook, but it was too late. My mom already had it. She looked up in disgust at my most recent sketch. The fan art drawing for my favorite show. She ripped it out, angrily waving it in my face.

“What shit is this Montana? Why the duck are you drawing, drawing, ugh, lesbians.” She forced out lesbians like it would make her hurl just saying it.

I struggled to defend myself from her wrath. “It’s not-“

“Oh shut it, Montana. I can’t believe you. After how gays like these destroyed our family. I better not catch you drawing anything like this again.” She paused in her fury. “You’re not a lesbian, are you?”

I hung my head. “No, Mom.” The lie sat heavy on my tongue.

She ripped the drawing to shreds, and my soul broke a little. “Good, because if you were it would be out on the streets for you.”

I nodded. “Ok Mom. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“Good.” She turned and stormed out of the room tossing my drawing in the trash as she left. Damn. I had liked that drawing.

As I turned back to the biology worksheet tears dropped off my face onto the paper. Would my mom ever accept me? Or would I always have to lie?

The next day at school I found myself sitting outside at lunch. My sketchbook was on my lap lying open waiting for me to draw something to fill its pages. But the tattered remains of the page my mom tore out still clung to the spirals and I found myself lacking any motivation to draw. As I stared at the stupid price of paper I had to stop tears welling up in my eyes. Was my mom right? Was it really so wrong to be gay?

I sighed staring at the school hoping for inspiration to suddenly strike me. Instead all I saw was Madison punning a girl against the side of the building making out with her. Great. Just what I wanted. To see a reminder of what I could never have. I shoved my sketchbook in my back back and slung it over my shoulder. The tears had escaped my eyes now and were silently sliding down my cheeks. I pulled my hood up and walked to the bathroom. I couldn’t go to biology looking like this.

I put my hands on the sink staring at myself in the mirror. I was pathetic. I ran the cold water and splashed some on my face washing the tears away. My eyes were still red, but that couldn’t be avoided. I could just lie and say I had allergies if anyone asked, not that anyone would. The bell rang and I walked out of the bathroom almost running straight into a girl.

“Sorry.” I hastily apologized as I went on my way.

I sat down in biology class and pulled out my folder. I glanced up to the board, trying to glean some hint of what we would be doing. No luck. The board was empty. I would have to wait for Mr. Monroe to begin teaching. As I waited for the bell to ring and class to start I couldn’t help but overhear the conversations next to me.

“Where was Madison today at lunch?”

“Probably with Kelsey.”

“Ugh, ever since she got a girlfriend it’s like she has no time for us.”

“I know right. I hardly ever see her outside of clas.”

“Speak of the devil...”

I glanced up at this and noticed Madison walking in right as the bell rang I noticed her brown hair was messed up, and she looked a bit out of breathe. She must have had to run to class.

Finally, Mr. Monroe began teaching, continuing the unit on the nervous system. I really didn’t understand it at all. I found myself wishing that I had bothered to actually talk to other people so I could have some friends to ask for help. I sighed and just continued taking notes. I always had the internet to help me struggle through.

Much confusion later, I found myself rushing to pack my stuff up as the bell caught me by surprise. I grabbed my backpack and followed the rest of the class out into the hall. Time for the most riveting class of all, history. Ugh I hate history. It’s all the same. Oppression, revolution, new government that oppressed other. Rinse and repeat.

I entered the class and looked ahead to my seat, but there was some guy sitting on it. Oh great. That’s really what I need right now. Having to deal with some jerk was just what I needed to improve my wonderful day. Note the sarcasm. Instead of actively engaging the dude that looked about like about six feet tall and absolutely ripped, I decided to just stand next to my desk hoping he would move, I didn’t want to have to fight him.

“What’cha staring at girl? Too hard to keep your eyes off my hot bod?” The guy turned to face me.

“No. You’re in my seat.” I stated flatly. I couldn’t find the guy attractive if I wanted to and I had tried, but there was one problem with him, he was, well, a guy.

He laughed. “Oh, I’m in your seat? I didn’t realize we had assigned seats.”

I looked up to meet his gaze. If this guy wanted to be a jerk, he would get another thing coming. I was in no mood to deal with his bullshit.

“We may not have assigned seats but I have sat in that seat every day, since the beginning of the school year.” I glared at him.

He stood up cockily. “Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.” He turned to his goons behind him. “Did any of you notice?”

They all shook their heads burning some variation of “no.”

He laughed. “Who are you again? I don’t remember seeing you around. Are you new?”

I clenched my first as the urge to punch him built. “I’m Montana and I’ve been going to this school for four years.”

The guy just laughed again. “Sorry, doesn’t ring a bell. Who even names their kid after a state anyways?” He turned to his goons who all laughed along with him. He waved me away like I was a stray cat he could shoo away. “Go find another seat State. This one’s mine now.”

I sighed clenching my jaw. “No.”

He turned back to face me. “Sorry, what? I thought I heard you just say no, but that can’t be right. No one ever disobeys me.”

I didn’t budge under his glare. I did t want to pick a fight, but him and his cocky attitude were just asking for one. “I said No. That’s my seat, move.”

I stood up taking a step towards me so that he was right in front of me. “What did you say, girl?”

I didn’t flinch despite him standing over me. I was only about 4” shorter but it was enough. “I said move.”

He suddenly brought his fist around and punched me straight in the face. I stumbled back holding my face, as I felt blood drip down my face.

He smirked. “That’ll teach you. A girl should always listen to a man, especially when that man is me.”

I wiped the blood off my face with the back of my hand. I heard the bell ring but the teacher was nowhere to be seen just great.

“Move out of my seat.” I growled, stepping closer. The rest of the class was watching our every move but I didn’t care. I was not going to let this misogynistic douchebag win.

He tried to punch me again but I ducked. “When will you learn, cunt? It’s my seat now.”

I didn’t dare punch back in fear of getting suspended so I settled for dodging his sloppy punches. Obviously, no one had taught him how to fight properly. Unfortunately, no one had taught me either, and he managed to land another hit in my face which caused me to stumble back. He followed it up by kicking me and knocking me to the ground.

“What the hell is going on here?” The teacher, Mr. Smith had finally arrived.

I picked myself up from the floor, while the guy tried to defend himself. “Nothing, Mr. Smith.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So attacking another student is ‘nothing?’” He pointed to the door. “Office, now, both of you. Bring your stuff.”

The guy groaned grabbing his bag and storming into the hallway, I followed him quietly. Great, the office. I really didn’t need detention. We arrived at the office and the pad just barged right in.

The office lady looked up at the intrusion. “What can I do for you?”

A man peaked out from one of the offices. “Send them in here. Smith just called that these two were fighting in his classroom.”

The dude stomped angrily in the room sitting down on the chair angrily and slouching crossing his arms with an air of false bravado. I set my backpack down next to me as I took the other chair. I could still feel blood running down my face so I pinched the bridge of my nose to stop the flow as the man, Mr. Clark, surveyed us over his desk.

“So what happened?” He asked, coolly.

“I was just trying to get him to move out of my seat when he punched me when I didn’t listen to him and just go to a different seat. I told him to move again but he just punched me again.” I offered.

The other guy snorted.

Mr. Clark raised an eyebrow. “Do you have something to add Tyler?”

“It’s the own bitches fault. She was asking for it. Wouldn’t just go to a different seat?”

“Watch your language Mr. Johnson. We have a strict no violence policy here, and you no that. No verbal attack, if there even was one, warrants a physical attack. I will be calling your parents you have a three day in school suspension. And for you Montana, get cleaned up and head back to class, but if I hear that you threw fists too from the other students you will be joining Tyler in suspension.”

I nodded and stood up. “Yes, Mr. Clark.” I grabbed my backpack and headed to the bathroom to wash the blood off my face. As I splashed cold water against my face, I sighed. Could this day get any worse? I glanced up in the mirror, figuring I was cleaned up enough and headed back to class. I walked in and silently went to my seat, everybody was working quietly.

“Nice of you to join us Montana. We’re doing a partner presentation on one of the movements in the 1970’s.” Mr. Smith said. I internally groaned. So this day could get worse. “I’ve paired you with Ash.” Much worse. I had never talked to Ask before, this was going to be painfully awkward.

#gay #homophobia #homophobic mom #fight #high school #stupid parents #awkward #writing #not edited

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tylercamebackyes · 5 years

Text

i adore you, Cy.

surprise!! @imonlyhereforgay this is your gift!! i was stressing over it because everyone has so many parts and amazing stuff but i worked really hard on mine so im not changing it anymore. happy pride! also i used When too many times but i dont think TJ would care if he wrote a letter to Cyrus.

TJ writes a confession to Cyrus.

Dear Cyrus,

These are 10 of the times I got lost in your eyes.

When we went out for milkshakes after my first game of the season. You were telling a story about how your cousin drank his milkshake in 4 minutes flat, only to realize he was lactose intolerant. He never went out to eat with you again because you laughed at him for weeks. You laughed so hard telling the story that you started crying, but your eyes were lit up with joy.

When you came out to me in your basement. I made a joke about how girls would love a ping pong champion. You said you hoped the guys did too. The guys most certainly do. I was stunned into silence because I realized you wouldn't find it so weird that I thought your eyes were pretty.

That time we went on the Ferris wheel at Adrenaline City. You wouldn't look away from the spinning wheel, but I made you have a staring contest with me. You looked like you were about to cry until Marty spun the wheel and you screeched with your head in your hands.

When I had dinner at your house for your dad's birthday. I was helping serve cake when you said I had gotten frosting on my nose. You wiped it off with a napkin because I "wasn't getting the blue off." The blue didn't even come off after.

When I was getting you do do the high jump into the foam pit at Bouncy Castle Land. Andi and Buffy had always let you sit out, but I made you count to 10 with me before you let me push you off the platform.

When my cat had kittens and you were holding one, but it sneezed and you look at me smiling like a goof. I thought I could look at you smiling like a goof forever.

That time we were studying for my math test and you laughed at the drawing of my cat. When you laugh you get a sparkle in your eye. I got B+ on that math test and you took me to the Spoon to celebrate.

When we were playing the second championship game and I looked over at you during the last timeout. Your smile made me want to win the game to make you proud even though you would be proud either way.

When Andi was thinking about going to New York for an art school, so you went to the swings to think about it. I told you that you were allowed to be upset about it because she was your best friend and you would miss her more if you were here instead of with her. Andi decided not to go.

When you got a brain freeze from eating a snow cone too fast at the fair.

9 times I almost held your hand. Mostly times I missed my chance to.

When we went on that roller coaster and you said you couldn't feel your hands. I thought about it for a long time, but then we were upside down and I missed my chance.

When I watched your dance final and you were shaking when you finished, because when I'm shaking people holding my hands make me feel better but you were being hugged by Buffy before I got the nerve to.

When you came out to Amber at the Spoon, because she said she was frosting everything rainbow for pride month and you said you would definitely but a piece of cake for that, and she asked if you were LGBT+ and you paused and said you were gay. I didn't want to reach over the table so I didn't hold your hand.

When we were both laying on the couch but we couldn't reach the remote, so we both reached out to get it. I ended up falling off the couch.

When my cat scratched you and I helped you clean your hand, and I did technically hold your hand but I almost really held your hand.

When Andi was up for an art award and they were announcing winners. I started clapping to snap you out of peeling your fingernails. She didn't win, but she got 2nd place.

When we were having a sleepover and you turned over on the air mattress just to say "TJ, I LOVE dinosaurs." You started showing me shadow puppet dinosaurs, but you were too tired to do it right.

At Andi's slumber party, you were doing everyone's nails with Amber, and you painted mine yellow. "You're like my lemon boy, Teej. Or a sour-patch kid. Because you're sweet now," you said.

When Andi was upset about her parents not getting married and Buffy was hanging out with Marty again, you told me that you were afraid it was straining your relationship with them. I told you that if you could survive Celia becoming Ce-Ce and Buffy moving you could survive some change.

8 times I almost kissed you.

When we were at the pool and you did the big water slide, and you were so excited that you choked on the water. You laughed so hard that you had to get out of the pool.

When we met Amber's dog for the first time, and you thought he was the cutest thing in the world.

When we got churros at the fair. You got cinnamon on your nose and I still have no idea how.

When we had that pillow fight and you somehow got a hold of every pillow and it was like you had 3 pairs of nun-chucks.

When we were at the drive-in and you were holding all of the candy because Jonah had a broken arm. He said you wouldn't let him hold anything, but you said his arm was hurting. It was probably both.

That time at the lake when I jumped in, and you didn't want to jump in after me so you tried just walking into the lake but you slipped on the mud.

When we were swimming for Buffy's birthday party, Marty and Jonah flipped your floatie over. You complained about your hair the whole day, but I thought it looked better.

When you saw the shooting star on July 4th. Right after you saw it the fireworks started and the sound scared you.

7 times I almost told someone I liked you.

Buffy asked me after my first game of the season if I liked you, and I almost said yes. I said I didn't know.

My mom asked me why I had become so much happier lately. I said I was just having fun hanging out with you and everyone. Part of it was me being happy about coming out, but it was also being around you that made me so happy.

Jonah asked me how long we had been dating. He really thought we'd been dating for months.

I was paying for a Queen record when Bowie asked about the drawings on my hand. He asked me who drew it and when I said that you drew it, he said, "You two are pretty close, huh?" I just smiled and said yeah.

My cousins came over for Christmas. Addie is 8 years old and when she saw me texting you she said, "Why are you smiling so much? My mamma says people only smile that much when they're in love!" I thought it was really funny that she pointed it out before Buffy or Amber.

Jonah, Marty, and I were watching Love, Simon and they asked why I knew all of the emails by heart. It was nice to think of having a love story like that, even if it wasn't with you.

I almost told Amber's dog once, but Andi walked in before I said it.

6 times I did hold your hand.

When you were over and my parents started fighting while we played Mortal Kombat. I didn't want to feel scared like I always feel when they fight, even though I had never done it when they fought before.

When I came out to my dad. Or before, I guess. It made it easier having you there because I had someone there for me if my dad wasn't.

When you had a sleepover and we tried to watch all of Supernatural in one night. I fell asleep after a few episodes, but the first scene always makes me nervous.

When I was going into math class for the last test of the semester. You had worked with me the most and you believing that I could pass made me really want to pass the test.

When we listened to Paris by Sabrina Carpenter for the first time. It was more of me grabbing your hand and spinning you around to the music, but it counts.

When you brought me the blueberry macadamia muffin. That was one of the best muffins I've ever had, by the way.

5 times I almost called you at 2 am.

When my parents were fighting and I wanted to distract myself, but I ended up watching YouTube.

When Khalid announced his tour and I saw the post. You actually ended up calling me first.

When my cat threw up on my bed. I was really stressed but I got worried about the cat and told my mom instead.

After you dislocated your thumb when I tried to teach you how to play basketball. I was so worried that I couldn't sleep, but your mom posted on Facebook that you were fine so I let it be.

When I realized the song stuck in my head was Electric Love by BØRNS. Then I realized you were probably asleep, so I didn't.

4 times I did call you at 2 am.

When my dad told my mom that I was gay. I thought he was cool with it, but while they were fighting he said, "So YOU can have our abomination of a son." My parent decided to get a divorce later that week. I probably called you every week because I couldn't handle it.

When I realized another song that was stuck in my head was Maneater by Nelly Furtado. You didn't know what song I was talking about until I sang the "you wish you never met her at all" part.

When I had that nightmare where a clown came and attacked the whole town but you had an alliance with him but he was set on killing me so you died defending me then the clown died because he wasn't allowed to kill you.

When you texted me saying you hated crying at 2 am. You were crying about your stepdad making a homophobic joke. I said that he probably didn't mean it, and would stop once he realized he was directly hurting you. It still wasn't okay, though.

3 times I thought I had lost you.

When Reed brought that gun. I know I've said it dozens of times, but I didn't think he would bring it while you were there.

When your dad was thinking about moving to Texas and you got really excited, but your mom said she didn't want to give up custody so he stayed. I wanted you to be happy, but I also wanted to be with you forever and I wouldn't really want to be in Texas for months or years on end.

When Kira outed me to the school, and she looked at you when she said I was really obvious about it. I thought you weren't ready to come out in any way at school, but you said that our friendship was worth more than avoiding humiliation.

2 times I almost confessed.

That day when we couldn't reach the remote from the couch. Me falling off the couch made me forget about it, though.

When I came out to you. I was crying and you were almost crying and I have no idea why I was so terrified.

1 time I did.

Right now. I don't know why it's taken me so long, but with enough reassurance from Jonah and Andi, I'm writing this letter to you right now. I adore you, Cy. I want to be around you all the time. I would really, really like to kiss you. I know you might not feel the same, but I also know our friendship would survive a crush. I don't like keeping secrets from you. The last one is this: I like you. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. And I had a teddy bear named Blueberry for 12 years until Reed blew it up. That's all.

Love, TJ. aka Tyler James.

#andi mack #tyrus #pride gift exchange #my fic #cyrus goodman #tj kippen

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seromreven · 5 years

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title: songbird.

pairings: cynthia lennon/female!reader, (kinda) | cynthia lennon/john lennon, (former).

summary: it’s 1968 and the aftermath of John and Cynthia Lennon’s divorce. You’re her best friend through many years; staying at her house to support her and her son through this hard time.

author’s note: hard feels time, y’all.

---

The rain beat hard and fast against the wooden roof of the house known as Kenwood. It was early August but you could easily be fooled by the weather into thinking it was late autumn as the wind and rain knocked hard against the windows of the old house.

You were there visiting your good friend Cynthia in a show of support as she went through a tough and unjust divorce from her musician husband John Lennon. And, by God, did she need it. It was destroying her emotionally and physically as she yet again laid flat on her stomach, crying her heart out, on the large queen bed that she once shared with her so beloved husband.

You were out in the large garden, out in the pouring rain, with her young son Julian. Trying to distract him from the drama and the depressive state of his mother. He was five and was well aware of the situation so as much as you wanted to distract him from all that went on; it was far too late. He had, when you first told him to dress up and go outside, asked you if it was because his mother was crying again. It broke your heart and there was nothing you could say to it but put on your coat and boots in demure silence.

You had known Cynthia long before John had entered the picture. Long before Julian and The Beatles. And you had loved her for just as long. Not as a sister or as a friend; as your best friend. You loved her as something more. Something you never had found the ability to give a name to. You were sure it was more than platonic. Something bordering on romantic, but it had never been confessed. Never something even slightly hinted at. You didn’t want to risk the relationship you had with her. And it definitely couldn’t be brought up now in the mess of a situation John had left her in.

Oh, you could kill him. How he dared to do this to her! Cheating on her with who knows how many women over the years and then all that culminating in bringing in some abstract concept artist into their marital bed while she was on a vacation he sent her on! The gall of the man!

And, oh, you had made your feelings very known when he once showed up unannounced with his new lover at the apartment you stayed at with Cynthia in London. They no longer liked Kenwood, it being too solitary or some bullshit, and wanted to stay there instead. You told him to stick where the sun wouldn’t shine and then some but was quickly ushered away by Ringo Starr, the actual owner of the aforementioned apartment.

Cynthia was fine with it as she had come to miss Kenwood in the time she had stayed in London. But the sight of him and that Yoko Ono had sent her back into a spiral she had otherwise slowly been crawling out of.

So, here you were, in the rain, hopping around in puddles with Julian and the white terrier dog that you shared with Cyn. He seemed content enough at the moment. Pearls of the wonderful laughter of children getting caught in the wind as he kicked and splashed water and mud into the air. Mickey, your West Highland White Terrier, barking along as it rolled around on the wet grass, much to your dismay.

After a long while, you had no way to keep track of how long, you were getting pretty wet. And exhausted from all the running around. Telling Julian so; you forced the young boy inside and gave him the chore of drying up Mickey as you went to boil water for a nice cup of tea for the both of you.

Setting Julian down at the kitchen table; you told him to wait for you there with a set of crayons and a colouring book as you went upstairs to check on his mother.

Cynthia had been quiet the entire time you had been back inside and you had assumed she must have fallen asleep in the aftermath of her fit of sorrow. And so it seemed as you entered the room to fit her gently snoring with her head resting on her arms in what looked to be a rather uncomfortable position. There would be nothing you could do to help her out of the future soreness without waking her up so you resigned yourself to pull over a thin quilt gently and quietly made your way back down to Julian.

Julian was sitting in deep concentration as he drew into the big book with a yellow crayon held fast unto in a tiny fist as it went well beyond the lines of the drawings. You had given him a glass of milk as he was yet to have any interest or taste for tea. His feet swung back and forth from the high seat, narrowly hitting Mickey on the ground who seemed to have no interest in moving out of the way.

You hummed along to the radio that was playing at a low volume as you watched Julian colouring the various pictures of animals and plants. None of the colours fitted the real-life counterparts and the sight of it made you miss the creativity and innocent of childhood in contrast to the sharp and sudden swings and responsibilities of adulthood. You sipped slow sips from your mug as time went by in your watching of Julian. No talking was done as you were quite sure he had completely forgotten you in his enthrallment of the drawings.

If one good thing had come out of Cynthia’s involvement with John; it had been Julian. You loved him as if he was family of your own, which he practically was. You had been around him since his birth. Been around him more then his father had, due to his tight schedule of touring and recording and sleeping around.

No! You refused to get angry again. Angry at the thought of a man that wasn’t even present. Angry at the harm and emotional torment he had caused not only his wife but his son!

Your knuckles were turning white around the grip you had on your mug as you shimmered silently in anger, hoping it would go unnoticed by the young boy next to you. But, fortunately, you were distracted from your sullen thoughts at the sound of a motor roaring and stopping right outside on the road belonging Kenwood.

You went to the window and looked out, mug still in hand, and immediately recognised the car. It belonged to none other than Paul McCartney; a man you otherwise hadn’t seen in a while. You watched him go up the stone pathway leading to the house until he reached the main door and knocked.

Julian’s head shot up from his intense staring contest with the picture of a gorilla and he looked eagerly back and forth between you and the door.

“Julian, it’s uncle Paulie coming to see you!”

You laughed as the young boy jumped down the chair with a great big grin on his face and rushed to the front door. You heard the familiar laughter of Paul as you made your way to the entrance. His arms were in a tight embrace around Julian who was carrying in his arms as he was closing the door behind him; talking and laughing with the kid as he did so.

Julian was animatedly talking about his day, waving his arms around as he described the rain and the animals in his book and how he had played around with Mickey in the garden and how he had painted the tiny dog brown with the mud. Just like in his book!

Paul could only nod to you in greeting as he went into the living room with the boy in his arms, still talking and laughing. You followed along after you had cast a single glance up the stairs towards the room Cynthia were sleeping in. You hoped desperately she was staying undisturbed as sleep had been something she severely needed.

You sat down quietly in an armchair facing the sofa where Julian was still talking. It seemed the conversation had gone from his day to the socks he was wearing. It was a pair he had gotten for his birthday by your parents (they were, in a way, adoptive grandparents of his. Something John had never liked) and they were decorated with small giraffes in bright colours. It was the only pair he ever wanted to wear, though you had the misfortune of crushing his dreams every time they needed a wash.

The moment you had the change; you told Julian to go play with his toys as you needed to have a ‘grown-up’ chat with his uncle. He didn’t seem to mind as he quickly nodded and rushed to his various spinning tops and variants of wooden toys your father had made for him.

Paul looked at you, curious and with his brows raised as he leaned forward to sit closer to you as you said in a hushed voice; wanting to avoid Julian overhearing.

“Cyn’s finally sleeping,” you said with some relief as you glanced towards the entrance hall where the staircase proudly stood. He nodded in thought with the slight mutterings of ‘good’.

Paul hadn’t been a rare presence in the house. Often visiting and checking up on the three of you when his schedule allowed it. He hadn’t deemed the divorce as an end to his friendship with either of you and for that, you were beyond grateful. You needed the extra company for when your feelings for Cynthia and your rage for John (who she still held deep feelings for) became too overpowering. He had become your confidant. And, in a moment of weakness, you had confided in him the feelings you harboured for Cynthia. He hadn’t shunned you. Hadn’t cursed you out for the things you felt for the other woman. He had seemed, in a way, understanding of your situation. Though he hadn’t said so.

Paul got you out of your thoughts (again) when he said; “I wrote a song. For Jules. To cheer him up, y’know.”

“A song?” you asked with a raised brow. Not all too surprising considering who he was. But it still took you by surprise as it was a gesture you hadn’t expected.

He nodded; clearly excited about his musical feat; “it’s not finished yet but it’s… good, if I do say so myself. Did it all on me own,” he said with a wink and you laughed. Though you didn’t admit to it; you were quite excited to hear the song. Especially if it was meant for dear Julian.

You had a long line of questions ready to be asked concerning him, the song, the bastard John, when you overheard the small tapping of feet from the floor above you. You looked up, for some reason thinking that would serve you as a guide as to what was making the noise. Quickly glancing back to Paul, you realised what or whom it was; you stood up with a sigh.

“I’ll go check on her,” and you quickly left to make the journey of the stairs. You whispered her name as you entered the bedroom and saw her staring blankly at the wall where they once had hung a portrait of her and John. It’s current location you didn’t know. It had been long gone once you had finally arrived at Kenwood weeks ago.

She didn’t seem to notice your appearance, though you had called out to her. She didn’t stir or look away from the wall and you were about to leave again when a gentle voice asked you something you hadn’t expected; “lay with me.”

You halted in your steps and swore that your heart stopped beating. Had you heard correctly? You turned and closed the quietly behind you as you looked at her, feeling very confused as you looked at her from your place against the door.

She finally looked to you, tears in her eyes. Her cheeks already a bright pink from her earlier crying.

“I mean nothing improper. I just… miss having arms around me. To hold me.”

You nodded and slowly made your way over to her. Your hard was beating fast as you neared her and the world felt like it was starting to spin. So it was a good thing you laid down on the soft bed, atop the covers. She turned on the bed and with her slender hands, guided yours to hold her gently. With a small whimper and sigh; she leaned against your chest with her hands still on yours.

It didn’t take long before you felt yourself relax and both of your breathing slowed down. You felt her warm breath on your skin through your thin summer shirt which was quickly followed by her calm snoring. And though you knew it was but a momentary event; something that had been followed by pain and unjust suffering, you wanted it to last eternally. This serene, peaceful, moment that so rarely came around these recent years.

You figured you would eventually be missed downstairs but, oh, how you couldn’t give a damn as Cynthia held tight unto your fingers as she finally got the rest she desired.

#the beatles #cynthia lennon #john lennon #paul mccartney #julian lennon #female reader #reader #reader insert #beatles fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #was working on the next chapter on i'll take you there #was instead hit by this angst train

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