#google searches 'how to not push people away when they attempt to interact with you' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

corysmiles · 3 years

Note

Little streamer AU prompts!

-Thinking they were all humans, either Wil or Phil bought tickets for them all to go to an amusement park....but Tommy’s too short to ride. Where does it go from there? Does Wilbur feel bad and sob out apologies? Does Tommy say it’s fine and that they can go without him, only to get kidnapped/lost? Does Tommy say f*ck it and try to sneak on with Tubbo? Your choice :)

-The bois at the arcade during the meetup. They try to cheat the games by having Tommy roll skeeballs into the best slot, or go inside machines to fix the game in their favor

-While Tubbo has Lani, and Phil has probably had like a borrower coworker or something, this is Wil’s first time heavily interacting with someone so small, and constantly watches the others and stays up at night googling how to best handle a borrower. Some of the suggestions he gets from online are way too formal and Tommy is confused as heck at where he’s getting these ideas. Like Wil you don’t have to wash your hands before picking me up if we’re RUNNING LATE C’MON LETS GO

-(the angst prompt) Tommy was so excited to meet others his size and during the meet up he doesn’t feel included or something, and he ahas a mental breakdown. Maybe he hides in a small space so the others can’t find/reach him

-If you don’t have plans for techno yet, maybe he’s also a tiny and thought he was the only one of any of his online friends, but the group FaceTimes him and he sees Tommy is small too but doesn’t make a big deal out of it, just a mentions it in the conversation at some point. Tommy feels instantly better. “Technoblade’s a bigger bad ass than any of you talk freaks!” “Techno was already the coolest, but none of you have a chance now.”

-Tommy wrestles with everyone’s hands

If you can’t tell I love this idea so much lol

-🦎anon

omg I love your ideas so much thank you and I’m so so sorry this post is so long I was gonna split it up but then I was motivated and got really excited (also pls forgive me for any spelling errors this is long and I didnt want to go back and edit it) :]

Little streamer au drabbles

—————————————————————

When Phil and Kristen had originally been planning out all the things they could do at the meet up they didn’t take into account the possibility that any of their friends might be well...tiny. So when the day came for the group to go to the amusement park and they were stopped by security at the first ride Phil knew the day wasn’t going to end well.

“Sorry sir,” the man said to Wilbur who currently had Tommy in his front pocket, “Tinies can’t go on the rides here, it’s too much liability for the park.”

Wilbur just stared at the man in mild confusion, “What if I hold him though, there’s no way anything could happen.”

The man just shrugged, “I don’t know it’s the park’s rules not mine so you can either stay out here with him or pass on rides for today.”

Wilbur looked down at the small teen in his pocket and could tell he was getting upset by the confrontation. Tommy’s shoulders drooped and he kept his eyes down as if to not show the others his disappointment.

“Its alright big man, go on I can stay down here,” Tommy whispered and patted Wilbur’s chest reassuringly. The attempt at comfort just made Wilbur’s frown grow.

“Hey it’s alright Will I’ll stay down here with Tommy,” Tubbo said, “I’m not the biggest fan of heights anyways.”

Wilbur reluctantly agreed and handed over the tiny to the other teen who walked over to one of the benches to wait for the others.

When Wilbur and Phil got off the roller coaster they panicked when they couldn’t find the two teens until they found Tubbo riding on a carousel horse with Tommy hanging off the pole.

Safe to say Wilbur didn’t let Tubbo take Tommy the rest of the day. (Sorry i didnt do angst for this one)

(More under the cut)

—————————————————————

Tommy was so excited to go to the arcade with his friends. When they got there though and Tommy saw all the prizes he could win he started to form a plan.

Tubbo of course would be the one to help him out though since he was the only one that was willing to let Tommy cause any chaos.

It started with small things like having him help them cheat on skeeball or hit targets with his hands on shooting games until they started to look for more ways to cheat.

For the final plan, Tubbo watched as Tommy climbed through the slot of a crane machine and tried to push a large bear toy into the hole.

When he saw the bear he thought Wilbur would like it and while Tubbo was usually opposed to crane games since it’s just a “waste of fucking money” he wasn’t necessarily opposed to helping Tommy get into the machine.

Everything was going fine until a woman with a child came over to the machine to play for themselves; immediately Tommy ducked down beneath the plushies so they wouldn’t get caught and Tubbo began to panic when he lost sight of the tiny.

It was at that moment that the rest of the group came over to Tubbo and asked where Tommy was.

“Uhhh hes in the bathroom,” Tubbo said nervously.

Phil tilted his head at the boy, “Uhuh...where is he Tubbo?”

“Ummmm so about that big man we uh-“

However, Tubbo was interrupted by his phone dinging and his face went pale as he read the text from Tommy.

-Pls get me out of here big man I can’t get this shit off me anymore-

“Uhhhh...oh fuck,” Tubbo muttered, “Um I have not the best news for you.”

“And what’s that?” Wilbur asked.

“Ummm do you have any coins on you?”

Phil looked at Tubbo with confusion, “Yeah, why do you ask mate?”

Tubbo turned back to the crane where the mother and daughter had left and laughed nervously, “well....ummm so by bathroom I kinda meant uh the crane machine? Yeah, Tommy’s in there.”

The adults immediately freaked out at the situation because what the fuck were the kids thinking. And when Tubbo told Wilbur they were just trying to get the teddybear for him cause Tommy thought he’d like it, he felt even more dread.

After almost an hour of Wilbur and Phil putting in money into the claw machine they finally got enough toys out of the way to see the tiny.

With one more try Tommy was able to grab onto the claw and let himself fall out of the machine. Wilbur immediately scooped him up to scold him for being a dumbass but when he saw that Tommy’s face was red and swollen he decided instead to just slip Tommy into his pocket to rest.

With the extra cheated tickets though they were able to buy Tommy a tiny plastic nerf gun from the arcade before they left.—————————————————————

Wilbur was surprised at how quickly Phil and Tubbo were okay with Tommy’s size. While Tubbo apparently had a tiny sister and Phil had had tiny friends before, Wilbur couldn’t recall ever actually interacting with someone so small expect for in passing.

He really cared about Tommy as both a friend and as a brother and he was so afraid of messing up with the teen. He didn’t want to hurt or offend Tommy in any way so of course he went to the best place to figure out what to do: wikihow.

The articles were strange for sure but anything to make Tommy feel more comfortable with him would be worth it.

So the next day when Tommy was supposed to be eating breakfast at Wilbur’s house and Wilbur wouldn’t pick him up to put him on the table he thought the taller man was just being a dick.

Then when Tommy asked him if he would pick him up Wilbur walked away from him to go to the bathroom instead of helping him.

After a minute the brunette man walked back and reached a hand down to lay besides Tommy. Tommy stepped onto his palm and expected him to pull him up towards him but when he didn’t he started to get really annoyed.

“Hey you can move what the fucks up witb you right now you’re being all weird and shit man,” Tommy grumbled.

“Huh? Oh I just...I was looking up some stuff about uh tinies and I thought maybe it would make you more comfortable?” Wilbur whispered with embarrassment.

“What?” Tommy laughed, “Why the fuck would you do that you were fine before I would tell you if I wasn’t comfortable big man you don’t have to worry about that.”

Wilbur felt his heart swell at the comfort and slowly lifted Tommy up to the table for them to eat together. It was still strange having someone so small around but Wilbur would get used to it for Tommy.—————————————————————

Tommy usually didn’t have any problems with having bigger people around. All his friends at home and his family were all humans so he knew he was overreacting about none of his online friends being tinies. But when they went out to dinner together and Phil, Tubbo, and Wilbur were all talking together while Tommy sat next to Wilbur’s cup something broke inside him.

The reason he loved streaming so much was that he thought he finally had met other people like him, but he guessed it was his own fault for never really checking.

As the three laughed loudly Tommy felt himself becoming more and more overwhelmed by the chaos in the restaurant. He couldn’t cry now though his friends were having fun, it would be a dick move for him to ruin the meet up for them just because he expected them to be tinies.

Throughout the meal and on the way home Tommy was mostly silent, he sat in Wilbur’s pocket as they arrived at the man’s apartment. Wilbur waved goodbye to Phil and Tubbo as he took Tommy inside.

Wilbur sat Tommy down on the counter as he changed and Tommy finally felt a few tears fall from his eyes. He heard the sound of a door opening and quickly hid behind a tea box so Wilbur wouldn’t see him in this state.

He started to shake as the tears kept coming while he heard Wilbur searching around for him.

“Tommy?” Wilbur called out but Tommy couldn’t even get a solid breath much less respond.

After a few moments Tommy felt the tea box he was hiding near shift as a large hand wrapped him up gently.

“Oh jeez Tommy are you okay?” Wilbur asked as he lifted Tommy to his eyes.

Tommy wiped his eyes and slowly nodded to Wilbur who looked heartbroken by the tears.

Wilbur sighed, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Tommy shook his head no and Wilbur gave the boy a sad smile.

“I’m sorry Tommy, we’ll talk about this later okay,” he whispered as he tucked Tommy up against his chest. He held the tiny until he heard soft snores replace the sobs and promised himself that whatever made him this sad would never happen again.—————————————————————

Techno had been tweeting at the rest of the sleepy boys since the start of the meetup. The American wished he had gotten to meet up with his friends but sadly because of covid there was no way to safely visit the UK, so instead they settled for FaceTiming one night so that Techno wouldn’t feel as left out.

Techno grabbed his specially made phone and anxiously waited for the call. When Phil’s contact showed up Techno opened it immediately and was greeted by the familiar blonde human’s face along with Tubbo in the corner.

“Hey Techno!” Phil smiled as Tubbo waved aggressively.

Techno smiled and waved back, “Hullo.”

After a little bit of shuffling Wilbur appeared on the screen with something cupped in his hands.

“What you got there Will?” Techno asked with an amused expression.

“It’s me bitch! Ayyy Techno,” a loud and annoying but familiar voice yelled form the taller man’s hands.

“Oh hey Tommy,” Techno laughed, but besides that there was almost no reaction to Tommy’s height.

“That’s it? No big ‘wow you’re small’ or like ‘poggers’ or anything?” Tommy asked.

Techno hummed in response, “Nah why would I care your nothing special cause you’re small.”

Tommy huffed and crossed his arms at Techno, “I’m not special bitch? I’m the only tiny here I’m amazing!”

A small chuckle left Techno as he realized the situation.

“And why are you so sure you’re the only one huh?”

Tommy blinked wide eyed at Techno before a wide grin spread across his face.

“Wait you’re small too?” Phil asked.

Techno nodded to his friends who all had different ranges of shock on their faces.

“Oh fuck yeah!” Tommy screeched causing everyone to laugh.

“See I knew this is why you were so much cooler than these bitches were alpha men you see,” Tommy laughed.

“Yeah,” Techno smiled, “I’m sure that’s why.”

The rest of the call was calmer however Tommy continued to insist that Techno and him were much cooler than the rest of the them. —————————————————————

The first time Tommy had been grabbed to try to get him to calm down or stay still it had been by Phil when he was trying to cook breakfast and Tommy kept getting too close to the stove top. Phil placed his hand over Tommy to keep him still when he felt the kid latch onto his pointer finger and try to pull it away.

“Ay what are you doing mate?” Phil laughed as the tiny continued to struggle with his finger.

“I’m wrestling you big man can’t you tell, and I’m fucking winning!” Tommy grinned.

Phil chuckled at the kid before flipping him over with his thumb.

“Yup you’re winning sure,” he said slyly.

When Wilbur and Tubbo walked in to Phil trying to pin down Tommy with his fingers while the small boy laughed and pushed them away as much as he could they had no fucking clue what was going on.

#🦎 anon #mcyt gt #mcyt g/t #little streamer au #t!tommy #g!wilbur #g!tubbo #g!philza #t!techno #corywrites

167 notes · View notes

olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years

Note

soulmate au?????

Soulmate Au where things that people love/hate appear tattooed on their soulmate’s body. If they love it it’ll be on their front, and if they hate it it’ll appear on their back. The more important it is the closer it is to the heart. They can also move around/disappear over time.

Tim Drake is two years old when he receives his first soulmarks. There are two: the names Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain are found in elegant script over his heart.

He was alone when he’d found it, attempting to learn how to button up his shirt, and they’d sprung from his skin. He didn’t bother crying. He’d long since lost hope that someone would come for him if he did.

Instead, he’d waited for a maid to come into the room on her rounds and called her over.

The woman had smiled kindly as she explained soulmarks. How they were actually a good thing. How they meant that he was going to fall in love one day and one day he could get married! Like his mommy and daddy!

He’d seen how his mom and dad were sometimes. He wasn’t all that impressed.

Tim decided that the whole ‘soulmate’ thing could wait. He had a shirt to learn how to button.

On the other side of the world, however, Marinette Dupain Cheng is born without any tattoos on her body. Her parents don’t think much of it. She was just older than her soulmate, then. Or maybe she didn’t have one. That was fine.

But then, three years later, a computer appeared over her heart.

Marinette didn’t even notice until she was pulling off her shirt for a bath.

She hadn’t been shocked or scared like Tim had been, instead she’d beamed and waddled over to her mother with the widest grin on her face.

“Maman! Maman! Look! I have a soulmark!”

Sabine had smiled and turned to look but, much to Marinette’s confusion, it quickly morphed into an anxious expression.

Then her mother brought the smile back and she figured it must have been her imagination. The woman had reached out to ruffle her hair.

Marinette had finished getting ready and gotten in the bath, and her mother looked her over for a soulmark as she cleaned her. But there wasn’t one. There wasn’t one on her back and, outside of the one that had just formed, there wasn’t one on her front.

Then what was going on? Even abused kids tended to have their parent’s names somewhere on their bodies. But there was nothing.

The next guess was that her soulmate’s parents were dead. Usually, orphans had their housemates’ names on them, so the kid would have to be on the streets. Could a street kid really get enough access to a computer that it appears over their heart?

Sabine finished toweling off her daughter and pressed a kiss to her head after pulling her shirt on.

“Want to watch Pere bake some?”

The little girl’s eyes lit up and she nodded.

Whoever Tim’s soulmate was, they were really good at making friends. His chest was littered with names by the end of their first year of school.

And then there was one name on his back, right over his heart: Chloe Bourgeois. He frowned when he saw it.

For the first time since his first soulmark had appeared, he found himself curious about what was going on.

He pulled out his computer and looked up the name, not expecting to find much.

But, it turned out he did. After running an article through google translate (which didn’t work great) he managed to gather that she was the daughter of the mayor of Paris.

So... his soulmate was French.

(Unless they just had a vendetta against a random 3-year-old. Unlikely, though.)

He pulled up a new tab. It never hurt to learn a new language.

Their likes and dislikes slowly cropped up on their bodies as time went on.

Tim had smiled despite himself when he saw the pictures cropping up. A whisk was found on his shoulder, and then a video game console popped up on his stomach, and then a sewing needle and buttons could be seen under their parent’s names. On his back, he could find what appeared to be homework and broccoli. Whoever his soulmate was, their life seemed quaint and pleasant.

Marinette had been happy to see all the little things popping up over herself as well. A circus tent on the sole of her foot, a skateboard on her neck, a camera by the computer. On her back, she could see what looked like playing cards. She thought all their hobbies sounded cute (if a bit random). She was just concerned about the distinct lack of names on her body; she hoped that they were at least getting enough social interaction.

When she was twelve, it finally happened: a name appeared!

She stared at the script that had displaced the computer and her eyebrows knit together.

Batman.

Maybe a pet’s name? Human names tended to give a first and last name, so...

She typed it into her phone to try and translate it to French and her eyes widened when it actually gave information on someone in this place called Gotham.

A vigilante?

She laid back in her bed and frowned to herself.

In order for a person to show up as a name, there had to be a personal connection. If there wasn’t, like a celebrity crush, it would show up as a picture. But this was text, so…

Well, she hoped that her soulmate was safe.

Over time, more names appeared. They were all just as odd.

Nightwing?

Batgirl?

A simple google search showed they were vigilantes, too. She frowned slightly.

As long as they were okay, she supposed she should just be happy that they were talking to good people.

Besides, being friends with vigilantes seemed kind of cool. She could understand the appeal. She wished that Paris had something like that.

When he was fifteen a polka-dotted yoyo appeared over his heart, displacing their family’s names slightly. He stared at the yoyo for a minute in the mirror and then snickered to himself.

“Damn. They must really like yoyos.”

He laughed to himself and glanced at his back to see if anything changed, and was surprised to find that Chloe’s name had been moved away to make room for…

Was that a butterfly?

“And hate butterflies, apparently.”

She stared at the tiny bird over her heart.

Computers, skateboards, circuses, photography, and… birdwatching?

Whoever her soulmate was, their hobbies had range.

Tim had been changing out of his Robin costume when the names started disappearing.

Panic filled him. He’d heard before that, when your soulmate dies, your tattoos start to disappear.

But a few stayed, as did their hobbies.

He looked over the remaining names.

Their parents were still there, right next to the yoyo. Their family life was okay…

He stared at the other name and his eyebrows knit together.

Who names their kid Chat Noir?

He shook his head slightly. Maybe his soulmate had a black cat and wasn’t good at naming things.

Tim checked his back, mostly out of habit more than anything, and frowned to himself.

The butterfly had disappeared, and in its place were two names:

Lila Rossi and Hawkmoth.

She grinned as she twirled around in the dress she’d made. She was rather proud of it, it had a nice red and black color scheme.

She started taking it off, only to realize something.

Everything was gone.

She looked over her skin, running her fingers over where all the tiny tattoos had once been and felt tears form in her eyes.

Her soulmate was…

And then, slowly but surely, something appeared on her chest.

She wiped her eyes and looked at it, only to frown.

A gag gun that said ‘BANG’.

Nerves rattled around inside her. Something was definitely wrong, she could tell. But how could she fix it?

Maybe she could convince Master Fu to give her the horse miraculous? She could drop into Gotham as Ladybug for a little while and check up on them? Sure, she had no idea who her soulmate was, but she knew who they hung out with. She should at least make sure they’re okay.

A few hours later she was dumped unceremoniously onto a Gotham rooftop.

She looked up at the portal Master Fu had dropped her through and made a rude hand gesture, then pushed herself to her feet. She walked to the edge of the roof, dusting herself off as she went, and looked over the side.

Wow, this place definitely looked like the most dangerous city in the world. She could see a guy holding a gun while walking an old lady across the street it was so bad.

She pulled out her phone and looked up a picture of the vigilantes that she’d seen on her chest. Nightwing… Batgirl… Batman…

Man, did they have to wear such dark colors? It was night! How dare they do the smart thing and make it hard to see them!

Fine. Time to wonder around and pray, she supposed.

She had been considering detransforming and seeing if she could buy a coffee when she heard a click behind her head.

Ah. Fuck.

~~~

Part 1/21, 34k words in all

The version on AO3 was edited by me to make it better (in my opinion) but this is the original version if you'd prefer that

You didn’t really give me any specifics so I’m sorry if this didn’t turn out like you wanted. You were probably expecting fluff but uhhhhhh,,, don’t know why you were asking ME for that --

#sumbitted prompt #timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #laybug #red robin #tim drake #soulmarks #maribat #adribat

366 notes · View notes

hit-me-with-a-ladle · 3 years

Text

Ch.10 Creepypasta x Fem! Reader

Before even realising, the week had ended once more, perpetuating the endless cycle experienced day after day. Though not as severe as the previous, it was still very tiring in its own way. As the first day passed, Ben wanted to perceive her potential, making her brew something after every lesson and making sure the notes taken were comprehensive and correct. But what he failed to inform her was that the slightest miscalculation could end up in an explosion. The combining of two opposing substances ended up in a chain reaction that gave the girl burns and potential scars, their severity somewhat dulled by the elixir Ben would create after, but still very painful.

That week was strange, as Ben was inept at any social interaction. Struggling with reading the room and understanding others thoughts and feelings. Though he hated silence and many-a-time attempted to end it with a random ramble about a certain topic that would last hours at a time, tiering the poor girl forced to listen. His tendency for not understanding physical boundaries had begun to become a problem too, invading the girl's personal space at very unwanted times and always flashing that creepy smile whenever he saw her, making her tense up.

Though the perpetual cycle had begun to have a toll on her. Her body was on autopilot most of the day. Walking around and doing the same things as a robot. And the last day of the week hadn't been any different. She'd fallen asleep the previous night at exactly ten pm after launch and woke up the morning at around five-fifty six am, before her alarm. Getting up taking a shower, bandaging her wounds, getting dressed, and heading towards the stairs for a nutritious breakfast before she'd have to meet the new person sent there to train her. Toby had presumed.

Right as she was about to take her first step down the narrow wooden staircase she stopped in her tracks, looking back towards her bedroom door. Stepping back she walked towards it and walked in, looking around quickly before spotting the thing she was looking for. The necklace Ben gave her, she took it off the previous night and forgot to put it on. Quickly snatching it and clasping it around her neck and putting it under her jumpsuit she hurriedly ran downstairs, not wanting to be off schedule. She wasn't sure why she'd gone back to grab it, but something was telling her that it was special.

Looking at the clock she sighed, twenty minutes left before her training starts. Her thoughts were in shambles as she imagined what the new man was going to be like. A sadistic narcissist like Jack? An aggressive control freak like Masky? Or maybe, a blabbering creep like Ben? She wasn't ready to find out. But it was inevitable, no matter how much she wished she could leave, to get an end to this madness. But she didn't have to wonder for long as she heard light footsteps on the hard floor approaching her. Usually, she wouldn't have noticed something as minute as that but recently her senses have heightened significantly with the constant rushes of adrenaline her body had been going through to stay alive.

Gazing in its direction she finally saw the man, he looked to be around twenties years of age. He was of average height, around five-foot-seven or about hundred-and-seventy-three meters, a bit bigger than Ben. His mouth, covered with a black striped mask and a pair of orange-tinted goggles over his eyes. Bushy dark brown hair peeking out from the blue hood of his stained zip-up. The only feature visible was his pale almost grey skin that seemed cold as ice. Below the waist, he had two old hatchets harnessed on either side of his long baggy jeans, with his gloved hands firmly gripping both whiles staring at the girl. As he stood he would occasionally jerk or twitch to the side without warning. She gazed at him, confused by the sudden motions of his body.

Suddenly the man coughed, grabbing her attention and snapping her out of the daze that she was in. Shaking her head and apologizing immediately. He approached, now right in front of her.

" He-llo. I'm To-toby."

He stuttered as he stretched out his right hand at her. Swiftly grabbing his hand to shake it. The leather that collided with her skin was worn out and patchy.

" Hi." She retorted, trying to pull her hand away but he would let do. She could feel his flesh twitch underneath his thick glove. " So when are we going to begin training?"

She awkwardly addressed trying to soften the ever-growing tension. The man only nodded his head and softly huffed, finally letting go.

Glancing behind her shoulder, staring at the back door with a blank stare he pushed her aside and walked towards it. She was perplexed by him, not expecting such an act as a frown formed on her face. 'Who does he think he is? He didn't even answer my question. Jerk.' She thought, her eyebrows scrunching in irritation while going back to making herself breakfast.

"I'll wait for you to fin-finish outside. Be quic-k."

He said quietly as he stepped outside.

Sighing dramatically she began to eat, starting at the clock on the wall, counting down the seconds with dread. Eating had become a choir, her mouth always feeling dry. The food itself was bland too, devoid of odour and taste made the texture unbearable at times. But she didn't have much of a choice. It sometimes felt like eating sandpaper but she couldn't complain as it would only stir up a problem. Most of the food was meant to strengthen her body and make her more durable. Forcing down the last bite she got up but the dishes in the sink and went towards the back door with a black expression on her face.

Opening it up it made a loud creak, annoying the girl as she slammed it behind her, searching for the googled man. She assumed that he was in the armoured area of the forest. Remembering passing it while doing Maskys test, grumbling at the memory. Picking up her speed and running towards it she got there in about ten minutes. Abruptly stopping when she saw the back of his head, a sense of accomplishment washing over her when she realised that her judgment was right. As she was about to inform him of her arrival he swiftly turned around. His orange stained goggles reflect the sun's rays making them shine.

" Si-since you arrived, w-we should begin." He softly said as he reached for his hatchet and pointed to the middle of the small clearing. It was perfect for close-range combat, especially if what they were using were close-range weapons. It was specifically designed for the people training in them to be wary of their surroundings and to focus their movements. Small bumps and rocks were scattered to make it more of a challenge. Battered practise dummies were also present on the sides, some had throwing stars and objects logged on their body. A small shed was tucked in between two trees, made to store some of the weapons they practise with.

As he stood in the middle Toby walked up to the shed, shoving his hand in his pocket searching for something, suddenly pulling out a set of rusty keys and looking for the one that matched the shed's lock. Going inside he searched for something, the girl wasn't sure what as she wasn't able to even see him. After a minute, he finally walked out holding something in his hand. Approaching her he extended his gloved hand letting her see it, a small hunting knife. The blade sharpened to perfection as the thick mettle it was made out of shine in the light, encased in a large worn wooden handle, finger-like dents could be seen from previous use.

Taking it in her hands it fits almost perfectly, holding firmly she studied the mettle further. Just like Maskys pocket watch, there was a crossed-out circle on it; her face was now showed intrigue by the particular design.

" The b-blade you're hol-ding in your hand is o-one of the most impor-tant things you need to sur-survive. Not only is it used fo-for self-defence it's also used for ever-everyday tasks. For ex-example, cutting down vines and or carving th-ings into wooden sur-surfaces."

As he spoke he would occasionally twitch and jerk but he didn't seem distracted by it, already used to the constant random unwanted motions his body made.

The girl nodded her head, thoroughly listening to his every word said, she'd come to terms that if she expected to escape she had to use everything that they thought her to good use. Toby had started to show her different techniques of cutting and use of the knife, explaining the proper stance and movements. But the girl seemed to struggle, shuffling her feet trying to get the stance right. Toby rolled his eyes and went behind her, starting to fix her mistakes and instructing her while doing so. The girl could faintly feel his uneven breaths on her neck. He was noticeably rough with the way he grabbed her hands, fixing them in place. When he was satisfied he let go and went to the side to watch her work.

The silver blade shined as the light hit its clear surface, the girl quickly jabbing and slashing the tree she was told to work on, creating noticeable scratches as she did. At first, her movements were quite slow and sloppy, not being able to get the hang of the small weapon, but eventually, she got the hang of it, quickly gliding around the tree with pretty much no effort and slashing it with remarkable precision. Toby watched her every step, pleased by her sudden improvement.

"I th-think that should b-be enough." He said loudly, disturbing the girl from her trance. Making her quickly straighten up and look at him.

" I-i think yo-you learned the bas-basic, now le-lets see how you will do it hand-to-hand."

The girl nodded, approaching him without saying a word, blade in hand ready to use. Toby also didn't bother to say a word, only pulling out one of his hatchets and getting into a fighting stance, she quickly followed. Neither of them tried to attack at first, only scanning their opponent, anticipating their every move. A cold sweat started to form on the girl's back as panic slowly arose in her mind, the tension was unbearable, and she feared that it showed on her face, but even still she had to muster up the courage and finally strike first.

She leapt at the googled boy, attempting to slash him with her blade but he avoided it in the nick of time. He was quick to react as he soon tried to sweep her off her feet but she blocked his blow and sprang a bit away creating a small distance. He was the one to attack next, facking a strike with his hatchet to her head, quickly using his other hand to punch her in the jaw, making her stumble and slip. Going to her lever and attempting to strike her again, she was quick to block, using all the possible strength she had in her arms to protect herself. She managed to somehow push him off as she quickly tried to get up, but made one fatal mistake by averting her gaze from his, giving him the Milly-second of a chance to slash her upper thigh.

Screaming in agony she fell to her knees, quickly feeling her weight turned on her back and crashed on the ground, the impact causing the necklace around her neck to come out from the jumpsuit, catching Toby's attention. The bottle shined in the light and wasn't hard to spot, he approached her aching for, carefully kneeling to her lever. Her face was in a mix of emotions, ready to defend herself again at any moment, but as he extended his gloved hands what she didn't expect was for him to reach for the necklace.

He held the small thing in his hands, twisting it around to get a better look at what was contained inside of it.

"A-a protection ch-charm." He murmured, but the girl still managed to somewhat hear it.

Her face showed a mixture of confusion and distress. Moments ago he was trying to slice her throat and how she was softly gripping her necklace, not saying another word.

They stayed in that position for a few minutes, the tension in the air occasionally being broken by the googled man ticks.

" Did Ben gi-give you this?" He asked sternly, twisting the tiny bottle between his thumb and pointer finger as he held it in front of her face.

" Yeah" She only said, averting from his gaze. He scoffed harshly letting go of it and firmly standing up, taking a few steps away from her.

Shooting pain ran up her leg to her back as she tried to stand, quickly holding the wound on the back of her thigh, adding as much pressure as she could so the blood would stop pouring out. Toby did say a word only looking in her direction. The girl's thoughts were racing, anger and fear swirling all in the bat of rage. She has enough of this, recollecting her strength slowly she took a long breath in, subtly looking in her peripherals to spot where Toby was standing. And the moment she felt the adrenaline kick in like all those times before she leapt.

The pain didn't concern her anymore; she only wanted him to feel the same she felt. Tackling his feet, he let out a low yelp as he fell on his lower back, she then quickly acted by pulling out the second hatched holstered to his person and putting it to his neck. Heavy jagged breaths escaped her chapped lips as she stared at him with a wide eyes gaze, sweat coming out of every pour.

Shaking uncontrollably while firmly holding the hatchet to his neck. She whispered, "I win."

12 notes · View notes

written-on-the-trees · 3 years

Text

Do You Believe In Love At First, Or Should I Pass By Again? - Machine Gun Kelly Fan Fiction

Word Count: 2675 words

Warnings: None

Summary: Colson meets a woman in a venue bar who doesn't know who he is, and bad pick-up lines ensue.

Where else can you find this: Ao3 | Wattpad

Colson sat at the bar, staring into his drink.

He was feeling...maudlin. It was one of Dom's weird British words, but even without the man beside him, Colson felt it was appropriate, being in London and all.

And because he was fucking miserable.

Maybe it was just because he'd had a bit too much to drink, hadn't smoked, and had now drunk way too much for it to be a good idea to start now, but he felt like shit. He was on his own for once, and even though it was by his own decision, the empty feeling of being alone in a crowded place was starting to creep in. At first it had been fine, when he'd been riding high on the adrenaline of just being on stage, but an hour that adrenaline was starting to fade and he was starting to regret sending everyone on to party without him.

He was debating going to catch up with them versus just going back to the house they were staying at, when a short woman dressed in black sauntered up next to him. Goth chicks weren't usually his type, but she had enough of a figure to grab his attention. He turned in his seat to flirt with her, but to Colson's surprise she ignored him completely, flagging down the bar tender and ordering a drink without giving him a second glance.

Well, clearly she wasn't here to see me tonight.

Normally, he would've let it go...but tonight he needed a distraction, and charming someone who seemed indifferent to him seemed like the perfect diversion.

Obviously, it didn't hurt that the woman was good looking as fuck. Five foot something of curves poured into torn fishnets, a black leather mini-skirt, and a ripped black denim jacket over a white t-shirt with an interesting crying angel in a lightning bolt design on the front. She flicked straight, silky black hair over her shoulder after she ordered, revealing deep purple lips bisected by a shining silver ring that Colson instantly wanted to bite at, and heavily made up eyes that finally looked over at him. Her grey eyes slid over him, taking him in, and obviously finding him wanting if the vague curl of her lip was anything to go by

He probably shouldn't find that hot, but...he did.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her accent making her words seem all the more insulting...and Colson was still into it.

"Yeah, I was just wondering if your name was Google?" he smirked: "Because you're everything I've been searching for."

Grey eyes rolled heavenwards, a sigh escaping purple lips: "Really?"

Colson grinned: "I've got other lines, if you didn't like that one."

"Maybe I just don't like you."

The words were bitchy as fuck, so much so Colson actually winced...but it was still kind of hot, and he laughed even as he was wincing.

He wasn't usually into this mean girl shit, especially not when it was directed at him, but...apparently he really was a bit fucked up tonight. It probably would've been sensible to examine why that might be, but Colson wasn't feeling up to any kind of introspection right now. It seemed like a lot more fun to just try and get her to be mean to him again.

If he got lucky, she might keep it up all night.

"That's okay; I grow on people. I'm like mould."

That, at least, seemed to get an amused snort out of the woman, even if her expression was still a little guarded: "Your words, mate."

"Yeah? Speaking of words: are you a dictionary? 'Cause you’re adding meaning to my life."

Now the woman groaned, but the sound was playful, and there was a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips, the guarded look melting away: "You need to stop."

"But I'm having so much fun." Colson grinned: "Pick-up lines are great. Try using one back, you'll see."

"I don't know. For some reason, I have been feeling a little off today..." she pulled a thoughtful expression, before suddenly smirking: "...but then you came along, and you definitely turned me on."

Colson burst out laughing, before taking another sip of his drink: "Nice. You got game, English, but I'm not sure you're up to my level yet."

"English? Alright, America." the grey eyed girl half-smirked-half-sneered, the expression mocking but not bitchy: "And I can assure you, if you want to play that game, you're going to end up calling me 'your majesty'. Because I fucking rule."

"That right?"

"Yeah, America. That's right."

Well, if that wasn't a challenge, Colson didn't know what was. And Machine Gun Kelly never backed down from a challenge. He didn't have it in him.

Even if this woman didn't know who he was, that would just make playing this game with her all the more fun.

Colson leaned towards English, a smile curling his lips: "Let's go, then. I’d say God Bless you, but it looks like he already did."

"Didn't need him to; I’m always on top of things. Would you like to be one of them?"

"You sure? You said you weren't feeling yourself today...wanna feel me instead?"

"You wish." she laughed, throwing her head back in a way that made her lip-ring glint in the dim light of the bar and exposed the bare skin on her neck, which Colson suddenly wanted to leave hickies all over...before getting distracted by the grey eyed girl's crooked smirk: "Did you know my lips are like Skittles - if you're good, you might just get to taste the rainbow."

"And here I thought it was the Pepsi that was making you look so-da-licious." Colson winked.

"Oh, America, clearly your brain isn't working properly...maybe it's because you're deficient in vitamin me."

"Speaking of vitamins, did you take your Vitamin D today, or did you need me to give you a hand?"

"How about we play Titanic instead. You’ll be the iceberg, and I’ll go down." English winked, and Colson lost it laughing.

She was overdoing it so much, he knew she wasn't actually flirting with him with that one.

The others might have been questionable in terms of whether she might be interested in him, but that one was just an attempt to knock him off his game - and it had been so unexpected that it worked. From the smug little smile on her face, she knew it too.

Colson didn't mind that he'd lost; it'd been fun going back and forth like he had, and now that she'd warmed up a bit this chick had a good energy; less bitchy, and more sarcastic. He liked it. He liked that she could match him; even if he didn't end up leaving with her tonight, he'd enjoy hanging at the bar with someone who could meet him joke for joke, or pick-up line for pick-up line, than he would fucking someone who was silent through half their interaction for whatever reason. Quiet women were never his type; he liked girls with attitude.

And this woman had it by the fucking boatload.

She was leaning back in her barstool, openly examining him, arms crossed over her chest and one leg thrown over the other. She was the picture of quiet confidence, all relaxed but still sitting tall. Some guys might be put off by her lack of fawning, but not Colson.

He just leant in again with his most charming smirk firmly in place.

"So, since you won, would you let me buy you a drink?"

"I've got one, thanks." she held up her glass of something - vodka and soda, if Colson was guessing by the clear colour - before taking a sip: "Why don't you tell me your name instead, loser?"

"Colson."

"Ah, shit. I was hoping I'd recognise it." she laughed: "You look kind of familiar, but maybe I just saw you in the crowd earlier."

He had walked through the crowd at one point...albeit in a hoodie and tucked between tWo security guards: "Maybe."

"That is literally the least convincing 'maybe' I ever heard." English rolled her eyes playfully: "But okay, Colson. I'm Rosie."

Rosie.

It shouldn't have fit her, a soft name for a woman that was anything but soft, but somehow it suited her. She owned it, wore it well. Just like she wore the blood red rose and black brambles tattooed on the back of her left hand...maybe that was why the name fit her. Beautiful in a prickly kind of way.

That certainly fit her.

Not that he was going to say that to her. Rosie, as bitchy as she had been to begin with, didn't seem like the kind of woman to take dubious accolades like 'prickly' as compliments, no matter how nicely they were meant. Colson got the sense the bitchy remarks at the beginning of their conversation had been attempt to shut him up and leave her alone. He'd gotten past that wall pretty quickly, but he was almost certain he could get pushed back outside it pretty quickly as well.

The more the spoke - about how he was finding London, about whether the UK or US did gigs better, about the band whose t-shirt she was wearing - the more Colson found himself liking Rosie. He'd already thought she had a good feeling about her, but the more he spoke to her the more that good feeling grew. She was a bit like Dom, in a way; less loud and energetic, but just as quick and just as unwilling to put up with anyone's shit, including Colson's. She didn't say anything, but she put out clear signs that she was not see him as someone she'd be interested in fucking tonight, and that if Colson tried to make that happen, he'd find himself alone faster than he could ask her to come back.

Colson respected that. As gorgeous as he still thought Rosie was - and as much as he still wanted to mark up her neck to let everyone know she'd let him do it, and bite at her lip ring while making out with her - he wasn't that kind of guy that pushed for what women didn't want to give him. Usually he was the kind to accept their denial and move on, but honestly he was having a better time just talking with Rosie than he had had in a while.

She just seemed to understand him, even when he was leaving gaps in his stories. He was just starting to tell her about Cassie, showing her his screensaver of him and his daughter together, about how frustrating it was that people didn't seem to trust him to parent his own damn kid, when a girl around Cassie's age appeared at Rosie's elbow.

"Hey Miss Barnes, the show's over. Grace's just queuing to go to the loo but she wanted me to go get our coats?"

Rosie turned and smiled at the kid, already fishing in her pockets for the little ticket stubs they gave out for the cloakroom here, when the kid turned to look at Colson. Her eyes widened, and she went a little pale, but when he smiled - because what the fuck else was he gonna do, glare at a thirteen year old girl who looked like she'd seen a ghost for no good reason? - she just dashed off with the stubs for the cloakroom clutched in her hand.

He was so busted.

Not yet, but as soon as Rosie was taking the kids home, they were going to tell her who she'd been talking to.

"Well, it looks like I'm going to have to go." Rosie announced, tone apologetic as she shrugged in a 'what can you do?' kind of way: "Downsides of chaperoning your niece and her friends to a gig, you're on their time-table."

"I would try and say something positive, but I struggle not giving in to one kid, let alone a bunch of them." he returned: "Maybe if you get a day that you're not on anyone else's schedule, you could give me a call? I'm in London for a few more days."

Rosie looked surprised, but she nodded: "Sure. You want my number?"

"I'll give you mine." Colson pulled a sharpie from the pocket of his jeans, scrawling his number on the back of one of his bar receipts: "I'd lose my head if it weren't screwed on, but my phones usually just as attached to me as my head is anyway."

And this way, if she didn't want to talk to him again, the decision was hers and hers alone.

Seemed fair, considering she wasn't going to know who he actually was until after he was too far away for her to turn him down to his face. Colson couldn't deny he would be pretty upset if he never heard from her again, but it would be better than him reaching out to her and her ignoring him. He had a fairly thick skin when it came to rejection - he had to, by now - but he was certain Rosie would prove an exception to that rule.

Best to give her his number and just hope she gave him a chance to explain why he had half-lied to her.

"Great. Speak to you soon, Colson." Rosie took the receipt and tucked it into the black purse that was slung over her shoulder.

Colson smiled, but the expression felt a little hollow: "Speak to you soon."

He hoped he hadn't just lied again.

MESSAGE FROM AN UNKNOWN NUMBER

So, I might've seen you in the crowd, huh?

Colson blinked at his phone for a few seconds, still half-asleep but for once not hungover or coming down, last night coming back to him in a sudden flash, cutting through the fog of sleep quicker than the lightning bolt on a certain t-shirt last night.

Rosie.

Unlocking his phone with fumbling fingers - not that he'd ever acknowledge that to anyone if they saw it - Colson rushed to respond to Rosie's text message, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he did:

If it helps, I did walk through the crowd at one point.

So you might of.

As opposed to recognising you from when you were on stage?

Yeah, seems likely.

I'm sorry?

There were a few minutes of no response, with Colson holding onto his phone and watching the chat screen, trying not to worry about what Rosie might be thinking.

Would she be thinking of the nicest way to let him down gently? Or maybe the harshest way to tell him to fuck off? Was she going to change now she knew he had a degree of wealth and fame? She hadn't seemed like the type...but he'd really only had one conversation with her. And that conversation had been just two people at a bar. Colson didn't think he was being egotistical when he worried him being Machine Gun Kelly could change things.

It's fine.

I probably wouldn't have told you if I was famous, either.

You telling me you're not a model? Damn, pretty sure I thought I recognised you from a magazine.

It must've been a museum.

Because you truly are a work of art.

Really, mate, you wanna lose this game again?

Colson sighed in relief.

She was still calling him 'mate', and she was still challenging him to play dumb games with her, just like last night. Finding out who he was hadn't changed shit.

He hadn't irreparably fucked anything up.

I'm not hearing any comeback, flower power.

Oh, it's fucking on now, America.

You must be a broom, because you just swept me off my feet.

Colson grinned, racking his brain for a good response as he hauled himself out of bed and headed down towards the kitchen to make himself a coffee. He was going to need it, to keep up with Rosie.

And he was almost unreasonably happy about that.

#The Trees Writes #Machine Gun Kelly imagine #Machine Gun Kelly fanfic #Machine Gun Kelly fan fic #Machine Gun Kelly fan fiction #MGK imagine #MGK fanfic #MGK fan fic #MGK fan fiction #Colson Baker imagine #Colson Baker fanfic #Colson Baker fan fic #Colson Baker fan fiction

42 notes · View notes

snom0001inu · 3 years

Note

What do you think is Viv’s biggest hinderance? Do you think she has a chance to get better in regards to her art and storytelling?

OH! I never expected a question like this, thank you for asking!

This is a loaded question because I’m not too familiar with Vivzie’s work. I only learned about her well after Hazbin Hotel blew up. I have skimmed Zoophobia but don’t hold it against her since she admits she doesn’t like it as much as she used to. I’m honestly not too attached to Helluva Boss, I see it as a filler show.

ᵇᵉᵃʳ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵐᵉ, ᵗʰᶦˢ ᶦˢ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵖᵒˢᵗ

In my AMATUER opinion, Vivzie’s biggest hinderance in her writing is she’s too impulsive when making a character/series. She gains a surface level interest in a subject (vodun, demonology, crime culture, mythology, etc) and tries to make a character out of it but doesn’t go the extra mile most writers do to have the proper research done to make a character more dimensional. A lot of her writing mistakes come from a lack of double-checking simple facts or already established aspects which leads to a lot of consistency issues or contradictions, and in certain cases, inconsideration of someone’s real life background. She’s also quick to throw in extra things that don’t enhance a character at all, just to say she thought up of it. This is a fault on her, but also her writing team, who’s job is also to do the research in order to have the story or characters flow. They need to reach out beyond a few Google searches or YouTube videos and if they can’t find enough material for character development, they need to drop that aspect from the character due to lack of research. Same thing when writing technical or academic papers, you only write what you know and can prove, not make stuff up to fill in the gaps.

Another fault is Vivienne’s tendency to not communicate with her fans properly, she’s either giving too much of the wrong information away or keeping the important stuff needed to clear up confusion to herself under the guise that it’s “important later on”. I’m not sure if that’s her way of attempting to build suspense, but it comes off as bad when the fanbase is as rabid as hers is and causes extreme tension that could have been avoided. ESPECIALLY if it’s a subject that should be handled tactfully, such as someone’s race, religion, abuse, gender identity, sexual identity, etc etc.

ᴵ’ᵐ ᵗᵉᵐᵖᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˡᶦˢᵗ ᵉˣᵃᵐᵖˡᵉˢ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᵃˡʳᵉᵃᵈʸ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵖᵒˢᵗ ˢᵒ ᵐᵃʸᵇᵉ ᴵ’ˡˡ ᵃᵈᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵒⁿ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ˡᵃᵗᵉʳ ᵗᶦᵐᵉ.

In terms of her art, I don’t feel I can comment on that too much because I am a self-taught hobbyist artist and she’s had formal training. What I will say is I do agree a lot of her characters are too similar in design/color scheme and that needs to be altered for things flow a bit better in a visual sense. Her characters do have interesting factoids that can be integrated into their designs a lot better, such as Alastor’s Louisianan heritage (I made a re-color based off the Louisianan flag colors), Vaggie being a moth, Charlie being based off a porcelain doll, and so forth.

I like Monster High for this reason, they’re all based off of famous folklore and mythology too but their stories can be seen in their designs. Vivienne could very well do the exact same thing for her characters, she has the capability, training, and passion to do it. I feel as though Vivienne would benefit referencing people like Wes Craven, Stephen King, Guillermo Del Torro, Junji Ito, Tim Jacobus, and the list goes on for macabre/demon design inspiration.

Do I think she could improve? ABSOLUTELY

Vivienne Medrano has the potential to do an incredible story, she just needs to get out of her comfort zone and interact with people who push her creative boundaries and tell her when she’s going in the wrong direction. She’s very open with how close she is to the people she’s working with, so it makes sense that nobody tells her when her stories are lacking direction or she already established this so she can’t write that happening without conflict because they’re friends, so they support her faults too. There’s also nothing wrong with admitting you don’t know something and needing someone else’s help or input.

When it comes to the creative field, you need new people and new perspectives to appeal to this universal audience that is the internet. That way if there are aspects people don’t like, they can appreciate other aspects of your work instead. If you only write what appeals to you, then you’re only going to appeal to people who think like you and that’s not an audience, that’s a yes man group.

#ask and you shall receive #anon reply #ca canter #long post #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #zoophobia #vivziepop #vivienne medrano #spindlehorse

38 notes · View notes

sophiemsmsmsmgallery · 3 years

Text

I’ll tell you who SOPHIE was - she provided me with the soundtrack to my existence.

SOPHIE - a futuristic goddess, an ingenious music producer, ethereal visionary, a trans icon.... just an icon generally speaking - tragically passed away at the age of 34 in Athens, Greece after falling off a rooftop whilst attempting to capture a picture of the full moon. Her gut wrenching death brought me to tears. This is the first time a famous person’s death has affected me so deeply. Her bold, hyperkinetic approach to producing musical art was so impeccable and refreshing considering so much of modern day’s music tends to sound incredibly predictable. Whilst alive, visionary SOPHIE generated a following of intensely adoring, dedicated fans. Honestly, don’t EVER mess with a SOPHIE fan. Trust me!

She worked with the biggest popstars, rappers, K Pop groups, rappers and upcoming artists but still remained so humble despite her enormous talent. However, she hadn’t reached household name status during her life. Sadly, many people only had heard of SOPHIE after her tragic and unexpected death. This motivated me to write a piece dedicated to this beautiful and timeless mastermind. I do acknowledge that its been exceptionally challenging to summarise how SOPHIE impacted my life onto only a few pieces of paper. However, its the least I can do. Therefore, I present to all of you my written tribute which shall focus on how her extraordinary music has featured during key moments of my lifetime and expanded my initially narrow knowledge of beauty, gender and identity like never before.

Let’s commence this written tribute by travelling back in time to when I had just turned 15. During that time period, my disposition was extremely introverted. In all honesty, like almost all teenagers suffering the displeasing side effects of bloody puberty, I was barely approachable. I adopted the entire persona of a full time punk kid wearing a thick leather jacket whilst applying extremely heavy kohl eyeliner and dying my hair jet black - which looked devastating. I would also scribble quotes associated with the punk ideology and act like some pretentious snob towards anything that was unrelated to punk, industrial or rap music. That was the most rebellion I exuded at the time (trying not to feel complete despair as much as possible for my former teenage self)

That captious mentality caused by teenage angst was erased the minute I listened to a snippet of the musical force of nature named ‘BIPP’ by SOPHIE on a Swiss MTV sponsored advert. The high pitched vocals singing ‘However you’re feeling, I can make you feel better’ provided by Marcella and overall catchy, hyperkinetic production mesmerised me like there’s no tomorrow. Nothing had captivated my imagination like the timeless ‘BIPP’ did so I typed aggressively and rapidly into the Google search engine straight away. I had to know who the mastermind lurking behind this masterpiece was. I had to know of the mastermind who provided me with this pivotal musical epiphany. Then the capitalised name ‘SOPHIE’ popped up right in front of my eyes.

After listening to ‘BIPP’ in its entirety on repeat, I instantly began to read up on SOPHIE and stumbled upon her 2013 interview on BBC Radio 1 with SOPHIE where she concealed her identity by having her 5 year old niece respond to the host’s questions instead of herself. At the time, I assumed Sophie had implemented a voice changer to project the voice of an infant. SOPHIE’s dry humoured response, namely ,,I’ve got a cough!’’ to the host’s bewilderment over the child sounding voice stood out for me. Earlier in her career, SOPHIE’s anonymity prompted much speculation in the music industry and press. I always perceived this bizarre, hysterical act of Sophie’s as a ‘two middle fingers up’ to our environment fuelled by mainstream culture, especially how so many people obsess over notable figure’s personal business and public image instead of their artistic accomplishments far too often. This has to be the ultimate moment my own curiosity for Sophie’s ingenious musical productivity became insatiable. Later on, I would await the 2015 McDonalds commercial anxiously to have my ears blessed with her gratifying track ,Lemonade’ over and over. The synthesised sounds that fizz like pop rocks. Nabihah’s crisp vocals which repeat ‘Candy boys, c - c - candy boys’. The overall ear worm appeal of the track. Flawless!

In the meantime, I discovered that Sophie happened to be a very well known affiliate of the divisive,unique PC Music label based in London, England. During the time period, I was - to be quite frank - not an avid bubblegum bass or hyper-pop listener in the slightest. I worshipped bands such as The Clash, Dead Kennedys, Rammstein,Tool, The KLF and additionally adored rap music ranging from N.W.A to Eminem. They totally divert from the hyperkinetic, exaggerated take on the pop genre embraced by the PC Music label. However, my teenage idols and SOPHIE objectively share something fundamental in common - Through their trailblazing musical output, they push every single barrier possible and deconstruct what constitutes as ,normal’ in modern day society. Even just after releasing her first full length album ‘Product’, SOPHIE embodied a bold form of rebellion against society’s conventionality and unforgiving temperament by incorporating lyrics alluding to a mostly genderless nature and sexual fetishes eg BDSM. As an extremely naive, self conscious teenager, all of this completely perplexed but intrigued me. Any glimpse of art connected with an attitude of non conformity resonated with me in practically seconds and continues to even at 22.

This longing for anything unorthodox traces back to my own childhood. To explain some details about my background, I grew up in a rather small, very conservative village in Switzerland from the age of 9. Even uttering anything LGBT related would illicit responses ranging from loud gasps to shocked faces at my high school. As a non Swiss resident, the educational setting demonstrated to be more than challenging at times. One incident that stands out to me especially is when a classmate ranted about his disapproval of non Swiss inhabitants receiving Swiss pass and then continued with yelling ‘All my family voted for the SVP kick all of (you fucking foreign scum) out!’.Just to clarify, the SVP is the largest party in Switzerland and leans very far right politically. As you can presume, I was utterly distraught by this disconcerting interaction and confess to losing any fragment of self confidence remaining in that moment. Luckily the Swiss MTV channel existed, which was far more on trend with the times and embraced marginalised communities. I will forever cherish Swiss MTV introducing me to SOPHIE’s impeccable, lawless music and being a form of escapism in my bedroom from the racist, homophobic climate prevailing in my village.

At the age of 17, Graduation finally arrived at the door which was an absolute relief. A few hours later, the celebration party took place in a secluded barn and my boyfriend immersed himself into the role as DJ for the night. Towards the end, he sneakily included Product era classics including ‘Vyzee’ and ‘Hard’. I could barely contain my excitement. We all almost choked on the horrendous party smoke, spilt our cheap beer on each other’s outfits and chanted ‘Shake it up and make it fizz!’ and ‘I get so hard.’ Ironically, I believe my Swiss colleagues didn’t exactly recognise the discernible sexual connotations exhibited throughout the song which causes me to giggle ever so slightly looking back. However, it felt liberating hearing SOPHIE’s fiercely electronic, transparent music and seeing my classmates enjoying it - especially as all you would hear on most music outlets there was either dreary Indie or Luka Haenni - the Swiss equivalent to Justin Bieber. That’s the most I’m able to recollect from that peculiar night - aside from a trampoline burning to the ground due to someone placing a candle on it. After all that jazz, a thrillingly new chapter for myself - and even for SOPHIE - would unfold.

At 17, I returned to my place of birth, England, and enrolled at Sixth Form in the South to complete my A Levels. I initially felt extremely elated to move back to England and finally entering the era of adulthood in my life. However, the atmosphere at Sixth Form and in the South of England seemed ... so unfamiliar to me which was heartbreaking. My mind had totally adjusted to a Swiss and my mind endured unsettling feelings of anxiety during the entire first year at British college. However, SOPHIE’s music once again presented itself as a form of therapy for me. She released the ethereal, stunning ballad ‘It’s Okay To Cry’ during this time period. After watching its music video and deciphering the lyrics I realised... Oh my goodness, SOPHIE just came out as a transgender woman! I recall being touched by the exquisite, idiosyncratic song featuring 80s style synthesised arrangements. SOPHIE’S bravery mesmerised me. I knew in that moment, Sophie would revolutionise the music industry, especially the habitat of music production dominated by cisgender, heterosexual men. She proved my initial predictions right - and on many occasions.

The day after SOPHIE released ‘Its Okay To Cry’, I overheard an energetic conversation carried out by a few of fellow openly gay and trans classmates who I’m still acquainted with to this day. They couldn’t contain their excitement about SOPHIE.

Despite the crippling anxiety having affected me so severely at that point, I intervened and expressed my admiration for everything SOPHIE. I felt blessed attending a sixth form alongside gay, non binary, trans classmates who took pride in their identity and sexuality. It put my mind at ease being surrounded in a more progressive environment compared to the intolerant ambience pervading my village in Switzerland. SOPHIE’s music had connected me with such a progressive, solicitous and just simply amazing group of friends. They agreed with me that SOPHIE’s courageous move will impact the music world in such a striking manner and encourage more LGBT people to pursue their goals no matter how extravagant, especially an acclaimed music producer igniting the music industry like SOPHIE. Then all of a sudden they mentioned the track ‘Yeah Right’ and how it blew their mind away due to SOPHIE’s ‘badass as hell instrumentals.’ With all the shame in the world, I confessed I hadn’t heard it yet. Their facial expressions conveyed so much disappointment. One of my classmates quickly plugged their Bluetooth speaker into his laptop and then pressed the play button. From a personal perspective, ‘Yeah Right’ featuring Vince Staples and Kendrick Lamar perfectly stands out to me despite SOPHIE’s extensive and majestic discography to her name.

I contemplate the masterpiece as a pivotal moment in rap music history. Even during 2017, Sophie began exhibiting red lipstick, latex gloves, tight clothing corresponding to a more feminine image which totally distances from the aggressively macho image attached to the rap industry. From the moment Vince Staples commences with his lyrically cutting verses to Kendrick Lamar proceeding with his gripping and more than memorable cameo - I realised that a 3 minute long but significant moment music history in general simply named ‘Yeah Right’, had occurred. Her production on the track astonishes me due to its avant grade and timeless edge. To me, it is a masterpiece that echoes the the extremely distant future of music. I reckon we’ll be dancing to ‘Yeah Right’ at the club in 2137. For 4 consecutive years, ‘Yeah Right’ has been reigning champion of most listened to song on my Spotify account and can express with all certainty... it’s my all time favourite song. In all honesty, it cured me of my severe feelings of apprehension and anxiety at Sixth Form.

After regaining my confidence and FINALLY passing the dreaded driving test - after failing three times in a row - the first song I blasted on my speakers in my cheap, run down car was ‘Yeah Right’ and rather fittingly, Sophie’s live version of the officially unreleased ‘Burn Rubber’ whilst driving to university I was about to attend. I genuinely cried all the lyrics to the song whilst driving on the mundane roads of Southern England and FINALLY felt like a free, independent adult. Even during brief chapters of my life such as passing my driving test, SOPHIE made a crucial and ravishing appearance.

The last three years of my life have played out in a rather turbulent style. Towards the middle of 2018, the year unravelled in a fashion that I certainly hadn’t anticipated. I’ll summarise it to the best of my ability even thought it is extremely difficult to. My longtime best friend, the closest person to me, sadly died to long term chronic illness. I couldn’t articulate my utter grief into words and sadly still struggle to this day. It was a sudden blow to the heart which couldn’t be paralleled to anything else I’ve felt in my short lifetime. A month prior to her untimely passing, SOPHIE had released her acclaimed, gallant debut album ‘Oil Of Every Person’s Un Insides.’ Although OOEPUI is a extravagant, historic work of art, I shall describe how the tracks ‘Is it Cold In the Water’ and ‘Faceshopping’ impacted me.

I perceive ‘Is It Cold In The Water? as a hauntingly riveting piece of music, with vocals sung Cecile Believe that send shivers down my spine. The lyrics ‘Earth shaking, I feel alone’ encapsulated on a personal level how I couldn’t envision an existence without my best friend by my side mocking my naturally deep, monotone voice, her showing me a piece of clothing she had just designed herself as she was an aspiring designer and hurting with laughter whilst impersonating certain celebrities. My raging anger against the world intensified. I placed my formerly devoted belief in a higher existence under the microscope - a belief system that I unfortunately haven’t revisited ever since. ,Is It cold in the water’ epitomises the dilemma and hardship of entering unknown depths without any inkling of what overcoming the ‘cold water’ and how its aftermath would materialise, metaphorically speaking. I realised I had to place my feet in the cold water in order to heal and adjust to coping with my best friend’s death despite how petrifying the concept as such seemed at the time.

And then there’s the outstanding ‘Faceshopping.’ I’ll confess... when I originally listened to this track, I was rather, dare I say, baffled afterwards. The experimentally electronic provided by Sophie galvanised me as usual. However, as a cisgender woman who has dated men right up to the present moment, I was initially under the very ill informed assumption that I couldn’t identify with a lot of the album’s content produced by an trans woman. That display of shambolic ignorance was quickly put to rest when I analysed the lyrics of ‘Faceshopping’ with an open eye. It clicked that the song could symbolise more than one meaning. It examines the age of the internet and the lengths modern day go to in order to pass as beautiful, especially in the name of personal branding. Furthermore, the powerful track demonstrates SOPHIE’s mesmerisingly fervent opposition against what traditional values regard as beauty which is unquestionably ingenious. I feel the lyric ‘My shop is the face I front’ denotes a person’s individual freedom of complementing their psychical appearance - whether through simply makeup or plastic surgery - and evolving their true gender identity shouldn’t be shunned. As someone who has been extremely self conscious about my appearance since the tender age of 12 caused by several factors eg bullying at school, ‘Faceshopping’ uplifted my spirits and enlightened me that no influence other than my personal self shall control how I beautify my own body.

Skipping to 2020, the world has been transformed to a severe extent due to the Coronavirus infecting and heartbreakingly taking millions of people’s lives. With this almost dystopian nightmare occurring, I felt extremely poorly - physically speaking - which had been affecting me since October of the same year. Ultimately I was rushed into hospital in December. After countless physical evaluations and days passing by whilst lying in a lonesome hospital bed, my doctor informed me that due to the severity of my current condition, the likelihood of permanent infertility is extremely high. The news put me into a state of shock. After my doctor left the room, the tears couldn’t stop streaming down my face. I had always envisioned raising my own children. Forgive me for the hyperbolic language but in that moment I felt defeated.

With the prospect of my womanhood being affected forever, I put my headphones to shut out the continuous ambulance sirens blaring outside. I pressed Shuffle Play on my SoundCloud and the first song that appeared was SOPHIE’s ‘Heav3n Suspended Livestream’ version of ‘My Forever’. Cecile Believe reiterating ‘Everbody’s got to own their body’ so ethereally, and the song as a whole proved to be therapeutic in the moment. After pressing the repeat button 20 times - at the very least - I had ANOTHER epiphany: no establishment should dictate what constitutes as femininity or womanhood. Even in the modern day society, childless people continue to be stigmatised, often branded as ‘selfish’ or ‘undesirable’ in many communities. I applaud the progress we’ve made in terms of tackling stereotypes associated with infertility. However, more work still needs to be carried out on this matter. Although it’s only my individual interpretation of the song given the circumstances of my poorly health at the time, the lyrics reassured me that everybody’s - without a doubt - GOT to own their body. Gosh that sounds so rhetorical!

After this pivotal awakening, I was rushed into surgery which lasted about two hours. The next day - feeling extremely lethargic - I woke up to the fantastic news that the doctors saved my physical health from infertility. I will always be so grateful for their treatment of me and my painful condition. Two weeks into recuperation post surgery, I had no choice but to exercise to boost my mental state caused by inactivity and to get my blood circulation going. As a lifelong, passionate dancer I conceptualised and performed a dance routine to SOPHIE’s club inspired, sublime ‘Take Me To Dubai’. - in front of my cracked bedroom mirror, ironically. Still, dancing again and no physical illness bringing me down felt like a individual rebirth. I was anticipating how 2021 would spell out for me - despite Covid 19 still permeating globally. 2021 finally arrived and not even a full month into the ‘glorious new year’, SOPHIE died.

I recall waking up to numerous messages and notifications capitalising the words: SOPHIE HAS DIED!’. In all honesty ... I froze. It didn’t register for about an hour. Afterwards, I couldn’t disguise the heartbreak and shock that SOPHIE was no longer with us - especially given the cause of her death. It’s been two weeks and I’ll acknowledge that I haven’t overcome the sentiment of anger and upset yet because of her untimely passing .The soundtrack to my existence is gone.

Whether SOPHIE’s musical stylings resonate with you or not, you can’t underestimate her fearless disposition and overwhelming talent. She inspired so many fans to embrace their true identity even when their environment was striving to silence them. She challenged our establishment’s shallow interpretation of beauty, gender and identity. Despite coming out as an trans woman and transphobia still being prevalent globally, SOPHIE didn’t let this form of prejudice stand in her way of achieving her dreams. Her revolutionary mark she left on the industry shall never be underemphasised by so many of us.

SOPHIE,

Thank you for everything. I will never ever forget you,

ROBS.

17 notes · View notes

leiwritess-moved · 4 years

Text

Brazil Holds Gifts - Hinata Shōyō (Part 2)

Pairing: Hinata Shōyō x Oc, Hinata Shōyō x black!fem!reader

Genre: fluff, a teensy bit of angst

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 2,804

Author’s Note: Thank y’all for reading, liking, and reblogging the first part! I had so much fun writing this, and to know people actually enjoyed it? The tears!! Hope you like this one just the same (or even more teehee).

Part 1 | 2 |

Day 63

September 2017

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

About a month in, Cee was seeing Shouyou at least once a week for language practice after Caribbean Lit classes.

It started as jokes on the beach after Shouyou’s morning meditation, and then, Cee decided to give her his pitch. Shouyou was jealous that he didn’t come up with the idea first.

Dinner was their time of study. It made the most sense. They were both busy during the day. Shouyou had intensive volleyball training or deliveries, and she had essays upon essays with a side of group study with classmates. Besides, trying to communicate while stuffing their faces made things ten times more fun, and manageable.

They never ate by the water—Cee made Shouyou take the main roads even with their bagged leftovers—so most times, their favorite buffet spot by the dormitories pocketed their money.

Sometimes, Shouyou brought food his boss planned to toss after a shift. Those were Cee’s favorite nights. They ate dinner with Pedro, Shouyou’s roommate, and debated which were the best subbed translations for anime: English or Portuguese. Shouyou normally sat in the center with his chin in the air, quietly humming the Japanese national anthem.

The language barrier made things complicated, yes, but not enough for them to stop trying. They both benefited from the challenge. The good ol’ Equivalent Exchange. Shouyou got English study outside of manga, Cee enjoyed Japanese, and they were able to mess up without scrutiny. Maybe laughter, but nothing to lose sleep over.

Shouyou’s encouraging attitude helped a ton. He had this way of making any challenge feel like an interactive obstacle course rather than a rocky mountain.

Google Translate was a third party in their conversations, and some of their best moments together were spent cracking up because of the mistakes it made.

For general needs, like planning, they used Portuguese. Shouyou became her teacher in that department. He’s lived in Brazil way longer, going on a little more than one and half years compared to her 7 months, and has pretty cool methods to remember key phrases. It became their go-to when they wanted to understand each other quickly.

For example—

“Você gostaria de comer juntos, Shouyou?” Cee asked over the phone while lathering lotion on her legs.

“Jantar, jantar, jantar...” Shouyou sang to himself before deciding, “Carne.”

“Meat?” She clarified.

“Sim,” he confirmed.

“Café? Carne. Almoço? Carne. Jantar? Carne.”

“Sobremesa?!” He added.

“Carne!” They said together and laughed.

“I got you. I know a place,” Cee reassured, and grabbed her Converse’s.

They met at the end of the block, where the dormitories touched the main strip.

As expected, when she arrived, he was waiting. Cee snorted. He was always at the spot before her, no matter how hard she tried to get there first.

Shouyou sat on the curb, next to a neatly folded shirt, with his head resting on the edge of the building. Eyes closed, and legs wide open, he made his phone jump in his lap with a flick of his wrist over and over again. He looked tired. She wondered where he was coming from.

When she stepped onto the curb, Shouyou pivoted, and locked eyes with her. The skin over his chiseled jaw grew taut as he smiled, exposing a top row of straight, white teeth. Her body warmed, starting from the pit of her stomach as he softly wet his lips with his tongue.

Chill, Cee reminded herself. She had to play it cool.

“Hey,” Cee said, flicking his bangs with a finger. “Ready?”

He grabbed his shirt, hopped up, and flung it over his shoulder. “Where we going?”

Cee just shrugged, and started to walk.

He followed, eager to fill the spot at her side. “Cee! Where we going?”

They walked to a restaurant that wasn’t too far. Cee frequented the shop with her Carib Lit crew, especially when she was looking for a bit of home for her taste buds.

It was in-the-cut, and looked sus from the outside, but morphed into a wonderland once you pushed open the doors.

Shouyou gasped when they stepped in.

“Happy?” Cee asked as he spun, throwing his head from left to right.

“Sugoi...” he praised under his breath.

Awesome, indeed.

It was a small restaurant with reds, greens, yellows, browns, and whites. Paintings of young girls with mahogany to dark molasses brown skin decorated the green walls, each of them wearing fluorescent headwraps, and holding flowers, the colors of leaves in New York during Fall. They were four tables filled up by an older crowd of regulars, all of them either gossiping in hushed voices, or cackling with cups filled to the brim with copper-colored liquor in hand.

“Welcome back,” an older woman sitting atop a stool behind the cashier counter greeted them. Cee smiled at the woman with chestnut brown skin, and a lazy grin that pressed dimples into her cheeks. She was the owner of the shop. “Patrick, lemme get some chicken curry with the extra roti skin!” She shouted in the kitchen window behind her, and turned back to Cee. “You bring a new friend this time?”

Cee took out her wallet. When Shouyou reached into his pocket, she patted his arm gently. “Yes Miss,” she replied, handing her a bill. “Lemme get two of them.”

After paying, they were led to a two-seat table in the outdoor area of the restaurant by their waitress. It was in the far back, lit with torch lights at every corner. The area faced the sea, but was blocked off from the water by a wooden fence. Cee breathed in the ocean water scent as they walked into a group of college kids sipping cocktails, laughing with open mouths, and swaying to Brazilian Funk music around their tables. She felt Shouyou move closer to her from behind.

“You good?” She asked, as their waitress gestured toward their table. She pulled out her chair, and watched Shouyou sit in his seat with a plop.

“Hungry,” Shouyou said, rubbing his belly, and Cee chuckled.

“Of course you are.”

When their plates were put down, Shouyou stared at the chicken and potatoes wading in curry sauce with sparkling eyes. He totally ignored the steaming roti beside it.

Cee picked up her spoon, and Shouyou tapped her hand. She looked up. He clapped his hands together, and placed them in front of his face.

“Oh.” Cee put her utensil down, and assumed the same position.

Shouyou nodded once, and in unison, they recited, “Itadakimasu.”

Cee watched as he hurriedly scooped the curry.

“Shouyou.”

He glanced at her with a mouth full of food, and swallowed it down.

“Like this,” Cee instructed, folding the edge of her roti, and ripping a piece. Then, she picked up the curry chicken and potato so it was wrapped in the roti skin. “You can use a spoon.”

His attempt ended in disaster. He tried to pick up everything with the roti, and it fell over his fingers. He looked at her, apologetically.

“Here,” she offered her piece to him, and Shouyou peered at his dirty hands before opening wide. Cee raised a brow. Not quite what she was getting at, but she obliged.

She placed her hand beneath his chin to catch anything that fell. His eyes nervously flicked between her hand and her face. Curry still managed to drip on his chin. She was tempted to wipe it away, but decided against it.

Instead, she wiped her hands with a napkin, and rested on her palms, waiting in anticipation while Shouyou chewed slowly, not seeming to notice.

Cee had a habit of looking at Shouyou’s lips, especially when he ate. It was hard not to stare when his mouth was such an active part of his face. They were pouty with a pink hue, and he was always puckering, twisting, biting, licking them clean, or God knows what else, while they talked. From their first scheduled meet, she decided that, if he ever asked what her issue was, she would blame the staring on a cool method off of YouTube that helped her learn pronunciation faster. In actuality, they just looked so soft, and inviting.

Shouyou purring in praise brought her back to his eyes.

“Delicioso?” she asked, and he nodded furiously. Of course, he liked it. Everyone liked curry and roti. “My grandmother cooks this,” she explained pointing to her food.

“Grandmother?” he questioned with his head tilted and she Google searched Winry’s grandmother, Pinako Rockbell.

“Oh! Sobo!” He stretched the skin on his face and said, “Avò?”

“Yeah. She is from Guyana.”

Cee showed him the-geographically-South American country located right above Brazil on the world map. Shouyou “hoo’d” and “haa’d” with unblinking eyes at the green, red, and yellow of the flag.

“I like curry!” he declared, performing a little jig with his shoulders. Cee copied him. “Japanese have more,” he explained, ogling the dish.

Shouyou leaned over the table as he searched up “カレー.” He pointed out the vegetables in the thick curry sauce, and the side of rice added to the meal in his section of the world. Cee shivered thinking of the peas that her Aunt liked to put into roti.

Placing his index on each vegetable, Shouyou described, “Ninjin...tamanegi,” and Cee repeated. Or tried to. The few times she slipped up, he would laugh to himself.

She made sure to flip him off with a faux sneer.

“Next one, easy,” he said, and pulled up a picture of white potatoes. “Go,” he commanded.

Cee pointed to her chest with her brows furrowed. He nodded. She shook her head. He thought too much of her.

“You know it, Cee,” he teased her, while waving his head from side to side like a snake slithering across water.

Cee chuckled at his imitation of her. She did the same when he needed encouragement for a word.

“I don’t know it,” she retorted, and he squinted his eyes, suspiciously. “Say it,” she urged with finality.

Potato!”

“Oh, that’s it?”

“I wish you good luck in Japan,” he mumbled tauntingly in his first language. Cee nudged his foot under the table, and he yelped. She wasn’t too sure what it meant, but it was common for him to whisper the remark after her mistakes. That’s all she needed.

She looked up at him with a grin, and he returned that blinding signature smile that thinned his eyes.

“Eat your food, you bum” she commanded, and he dug in.

“When is your birthday?” Shouyou asked, and ripped another piece of roti.

Cee stared at her plate in a quiet daze while playing with her straw inside her half-empty cup.

“Cee!” Shouyou called and flicked his straw across the table.

It pulled her back to reality, and she looked up.

“When is your birthday?” He asked again with a pout.

Cee weakly smiled.

From his rehearsed tone, she could tell this was the question of the week. Shouyou tried to come with at least one newly learned phrase, as did she. The idea was to respond in the other person’s native language.

That was if she could muster the strength. Why did he wait so late to do this? She was so damn full.

“Jûni-gatsu?” She responded, slouching in her seat. “In December.”

“Mmm. Nan-nichi?” He followed up casually, and Cee started to sweat.

What the fuck is language again? Japanese? English? We don’t know them.

She watched him scoop a piece of chicken perfectly, and toss it into his mouth. He was a pro at it now after ordering a second round. Cee’s attention flicked from the food to his large almond eyes. She winked at him, and a soft blush dusted his cheeks.

“Sanjûichi…?” Cee tried, leaning her elbows on the table. She wasn’t quite sure if that was right until Shouyou corrected, “Sanjûichi-nichi. Festa de Lemanjá?”

“Mhm. New Year’s Eve,” she said, and groaned, pushing her fingers into her hair. She fluffed the kinky coils, so they covered her eyes. Her brain was mush.

It wasn’t long before she heard the scratching of metal on porcelain.

“Hinata Shouyou,” she growled, and his giggles danced into her ears. She pushed her hair back just as he pierced her last piece of flatbread with his fork. He gave her an innocent look. “Take it,” she said.

He stuffed it into his mouth.

There goes her leftovers.

“I’ll be in Brazil doing final exams on my birthday,” she explained slowly so he was able to hang onto every word. He listened, attentively. “It will be my first birthday without my family.”

He swallowed. “Without your family,” he repeated, squinting his eyes.

“Alone? Like by myself,” she emphasized, and Shouyou hummed with an unreadable look.

Maybe he didn’t understand. Cee started to pull out her phone, but he shook his head.

“I know,” he reassured, boring his eyes into hers. “No family means no grandmother.”

Cee raised her eyebrows. Of course, he knew. Shouyou had been abroad for nearly two years. He was familiar with those lonely nights when a FaceTime call wasn’t enough. He knew the hopelessness that washed over you when not even Google Translate could smooth out a conversation. And, he knew about missing the taste of home.

“Yeah,” Cee said, and looked down at her empty plate. “But, it’s cool. I have friends in Brazil,” she dismissed with a shrug.

“Me,” Shouyou declared. Cee lifted her eyes as he reassured her, “I’m a friend.”

Her heart jumped in her chest.

“Yeah, you are,” she agreed with a smile.

“Here you go!” The waitress returned, placing two opened beers on the table with a clunk.

Both Cee and Shouyou jumped at the noise, looked at each other, and nervously laughed before Cee looked between the waitress, and the drinks.

“Um, we didn’t order these,” she said as Shouyou grabbed the neck of his bottle anyway. Cee reached to slap his hand, and he pulled it to his chest.

“It’s a complimentary drink from Miss,” the woman explained as Shouyou stuck his tongue out at her, and took a sip. “She said she hopes you enjoyed your date. Can I get anything else for the couple?”

Shouyou choked and spat the drink, while Cee’s eyes bulged.

“Kappuru?!” He exclaimed.

“W-we’re not...together,” Cee stuttered out, and Shouyou froze in his seat.

His eyes darted to the waitress, and shook his head. “No, no, no.”

The waitress covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry. Let me take these back,” she said, and started to scoop them up, but Shouyou kept his beer tight in his hands.

Cee slowly grabbed hers too. “It’s cool. We’ll pay.”

She could die. She was going to die.

Cee placed the cooled drink down, pushed her fingers on both temples, and sighed.

Looking up at Shouyou’s red face, she said, “Leave?”

He nodded.

“Você primeiro,” she whispered. “Go first. I’ll follow.”

“No. You,” Shouyou shot back.

“You.”

“Not me. You!”

“Shouyou, I swear to God.”

Cee looked at her phone, reflexively. Midnight. “You liked the food?”

He nodded and bowed. “Arigatō gozaimashita.”

Cee grinned, and leaned on the doorframe of her apartment. Shouyou popped back up, and tucked his hands deep into his pockets. She stared into his face as he rocked back and forth from heel to toe. It was a nervous reflex. She understood.

They’d never stayed out this late before, and due to that, they usually parted ways at the end of the building where they met. It seemed the longer they embraced the night, the more peculiarities it offered back.

Ever since they’d left the restaurant, Cee felt something thick, and tense in the air between them. It rested, soundless, underneath the night critters, and touchy Rio heat. It made her ball up her clammy fists, and draw her eyes away from Shouyou’s chapped lips. His lips that he just couldn’t stop licking, pressing, and biting before gritting his teeth, so his jaw defined beneath the streetlights.

Cee let out a deep breath through her nose as he locked eyes with her just as his tongue glided across his bottom lip.

She grabbed the door knob. “Well, good night, Shouyou,” she said suddenly, and his mouth gaped.

“Mate!” he ordered, and placed his foot in the door. Shouyou inhaled deeply and belted, “Please come to my match!” in Japanese, and Cee flinched.

“Pardon?”

“Bīchibarē,” he muttered. Cee nodded slowly as he shivered, trying his best to find the words. “I have game. You...come?”

Oh. He wanted her to come to a volleyball match. Not to chill with Pedro or piece phrases together over dinner, but to watch him play the game he loved enough to travel halfway across the world for.

Cee tried to suppress the smile forming on her face. She failed horribly as she said, “I mean, that’s cool. Y-yeah. Sure.”

#Hinata Shouyou scenarios #hinata shouyou x black!reader #Hinata Shouyou x reader #hinata x reader #hinata shouyou x oc #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! x black!reader #Brazil!Hinata

21 notes · View notes

brain-rott · 4 years

Text

A Crushed Crush pt.2

Paring: Midoriya x Reader/Bakugo x Reader

Description: Slowly starting to recover from your heart break you look forward to another antics filled lunch only to be caught off guard and alone in the hall by a worried Midoriya. Old wounds torn open once again you aren’t sure how to react and things are only made worse when a furious Bakugo joins the fray.

Word Count: 2455

Tag list: @wifunozomi @mrsreina @silentwhispofhope @http-bakugo

[If you would like to be added to the tag list just mention it in a comment <3]

Rating: PG

Part 1 Part 3

Sometime had passed since that fateful morning, while it still hurt when you thought about it you at least weren’t thrown into tears over it any longer.

Though this was entirely thanks to the support from your new friends and shockingly enough Bakugo, who was the driving force behind your recovery from your heartbreak. While he came off as mean and rude to others, you could see how he would soften around you and that his words held no real bite to them. You were hardly alone as someone was always asking to hang out with you or just inviting themselves into your room to show you some stupid video they had found.

So immersed in this new life you had found, with people that two weeks ago you would have never thought to find yourself interacting with, was surprising to say the least.

You found yourself lost in thought reminiscing how it was Bakugo who was the one to take you in and everyone has simply accepted you so open heartedly.

You couldn't help the happy smile on your face as you ducked your head to hide your excited laugh. When you looked back up Sero was giving you a look from over his shoulder which made you flush in embarrassment. Guess your chuckle was a bit too loud huh?

Class flew by that day mostly on account of your day dreaming. So when Ashido was suddenly leaning into your space you almost jumped out of your seat in surprise.

“Well? You coming to lunch or not?” She said as you glanced around seeing that almost everyone else in the class was already gone.

“Oh sorry I zoned out there, you go on ahead and I’ll catch up!” You announced waving her off as she shrugged and skipped out the door, leaving you to pick up your books.

You let out a sigh as you headed off to the cafeteria smiling to yourself thinking of what antics the group would get up to today. Though things had seemed too good to be true. You didn't notice him until it was too late. As you were walking up to the cafeteria doors Midoriya was waiting stood outside, clearly having been waiting for you after noticing you had fallen behind the others.

“[y/n]!” He called out to you snapping you out of your thoughts as your heart clenched in your chest. A bolt of genuine fear shot through you as you came to a stop in the middle of the hall clutching your books to your chest unable to react as Midoriya jogged up to you.

“I-I want to talk to you.” He announced rather confidently despite his stuttering as he stared at you with those deep green eyes of his.

Memories from what felt like ages ago returned to you, dreaming about his eyes, running your fingers through his fluffy green hair, holding his hand as you walked to class. You scrunched up your face as you turned away from him making him reach out to place his hand on your upper arm.

“[y/n] what’s wrong? Did something happen? Why did you just leave all of a sudden?” Midoriya questioned as he held you before him. You knew if you wanted to you could shake him off but the way his warm hands rested so carefully on you made your heart flutter then clench as reality returned to you.

Had any one ever cared to inform you that liking someone would be so painful you would have never allowed this to happen to begin with though here you were stood speechless before the guy you had once cared for deeply. Maybe even still cared for despite knowing it was unrequited.

“Nothings wrong, Like I’ve said I just wanted some spa-”

“[y/n] Please we are all so worried about you, this isn’t like you. Something must have happened to make you unhappy, please talk to me so I can help fix this.” Midoriya almost pleaded with you as he now had both of his hands on your shoulders squeezing you slightly.

‘If only things were so simple.’ You thought bitterly unable to meet his gaze as you tighten your grip on your books the slight tremble in your frame evident to even the most oblivious on looker.

“I care about you so much please just let me help you. If I did something wrong please, please tell me so I can fix it or apologize. I miss seeing you and getting to spend time with you. You’re my best friend [y/n]” His words drove the final nail in your coffin as you felt the tears start up.

A lump formed in your throat as those last few words echoed in your head like some kind of mantra. ‘Just a friend, he only sees you as a friend’. You repeated to yourself trying not to let it overwhelm you any more than it already was but it was far too late as a hard sob slipped from you. Midoriya now realizing that you were on the verge of full on bawling only stepped closer to you in an attempt to comfort you mumbling something you didn't quite catch as he started to pull you into a hug.

Midorya didn’t even have his arms around you when the cafeteria doors flung open with so much force they cracked against the walls startling both of you.

Bakugo stood there his rage evident by the fire burning in his eyes as he took in the scene before him. His gaze lingered on Midoriya for a moment the irritation and anger evident but as soon as his eyes locked with yours and he saw you were crying his entire demeanor seemed to shift.

“What did you do!” Bakugo snapped as he stalked over, not even bothering to give Midoriya a passing glance as he headed straight to you, reaching out to you as he approached.

“I’m trying to ask what has them so upset!” Midoriya shot back moving to stand between you and Bakugo. The two locked eyes and the soft crackle of explosions sounded as Bakugo had to restrain himself from just blowing Midoriya aside to get to you. Midoriya refused to back down as he held his position between you and Bakugo.

With the attention off of you and already having had enough emotional stress for one day. You turned on your heel and sprinted down the hall letting your books clatter loudly to the floor. Your pencil case seemed to explode on contact with the ground sending colorful erasers and pens skittering in every direction as both of the boys stared after you in surprise.

“How can you be so dense to not see that you’re what's upsetting them!” Bakugo snapped the venom seeming to drip from his words shoving Midoriya out of his way for emphasis as he raced after you.

Midoriya was left behind standing there in the hallway staring after you both stunned as he quietly began to pick up your scattered belongings thinking long and hard on everything he had ever said or done to you.

You didn't know where you were going in all honesty. Initially you had thought to run to the nearest bathroom but the thought of someone walking in on you crying made you immediately decide against it. Slowing for a moment you found you had subconsciously ran all the way back to your class room the large door looming before you. Since it was lunch you knew no one was inside giving you the perfect hideaway for the time being.

Pushing open the door you slipped inside keeping the lights off as you trudged to the back of the class and slipped into your desk rubbing at your eyes aggressively trying to wipe away your tears.

You aren’t sure what you did in your life to end up in a mess like this. Though you were sure it must have been pretty bad to have to have to suffer like this on such a regular basis. You didn't even know what to do with yourself, you tried to think over what had just happened, what Midoriya had just said, but it was just tearing open old wounds. You knew you had to get over this though you had no idea how and no number of google searches or sad songs seemed to have helped.

Your heart ached and made your body go numb as if it was trying to protect itself from having to go through anything else.

Blinded by tears and deafened by your heart, still racing in your ears. You failed to notice the classroom’s door slowly slide open and then close as someone quietly joined you. You only noticed them when they pulled up a chair to sit across from you, their hand resting on your knee as they rubbed soothing circles against your leg.

Bakugo avoided your gaze at first, though when he noticed your lull in sobs he glanced up to see your tear filled eyes and almost flinched at the sight. Slowly, in case you would ask him to stop, he lifted his arm using the sleeve of his jacket to wipe the tears from your cheeks and from below your eyes being as soft and gentle as he could as to not hurt you.

“I hate seeing you like this…” He admitted his voice soft and low as he let his thumb brush over the soft skin below your eye, now red and puffy from crying.

“I-I’m sorry” You spluttered out and he shook his head with a huff.

“Don’t apologize it's all that damn nerds fault. He says he cares about you then goes and makes you cry.” Bakugo grumbled his hand warm against your face as he had still yet to pull away. You let a sniffle escape as you tried to hold in any more tears that threatened to escape and Bakugo almost winced at the sight. His red eyes now holding a soft honey amber hue.

“I care about you a lot [y/n]. I hate seeing you like this…” He admitted once again, his voice barely above a whisper. Had you not been watching him you wouldn't have even known he had spoken.

You were still so numb from your run in with Midoriya you had no idea how to process this new information. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything so you just brought your hand up to cover his as you smiled at him weakly. His seemingly eternal scowl faded all for an instance as it turned into what could resemble a smile. Though it lasted all for a second as he moved his hand to cover your nose with his jacket his normal scowl back.

“Blow your nose and lets get out of here.” He instructed and you were so taken aback you let out a squeak of surprise.

“W-Wha? No Bakugo that's so gross!-”

“Just blow your nose already! I’m not letting you go out there all snot nosed! And don’t even think I would let you go without eating all cause of some asshole!” He snapped jumping up from his seat and shoving his jacket’s sleeve back in your face. You relented and did as he asked though made it quite known how gross you thought it was.

“Come on, I had kirishima grab you your usual.” He explained as he pulled you up from your chair with his non-snotty hand leading you to the door as you both headed back towards the cafeteria.

At the same time as this had been happening. Midoriya had slunk back to his seat in the cafeteria all your items stacked into a neat pile as he set them down at the place you had used to sit, with him at your side. Iida who had been unable to see the somber expression on Midoriya’s face as he sat down beamed at the sight of your items.

“So how did your talk with [y/n] go? Good I presume seeing as they will be joining us again-”

“I made them cry.” Midoriya announced his head hanging in shame as his friends looked at him in shock.

“You what?” Uraraka finally chimed in after Midoriya did not continue.

“I tried to ask them what was wrong but they started crying as soon as they saw me.” Midoriya explained, the sight of you stood before him trembling in his hands made his heart twist in agony.

He cared about you. He really did. He cared so much that he could feel his own tears starting to rise but he frantically blinked them away before they could consume him. His friends now pressing him for details as to what exactly had happened in the hallway.

The air hung heavy as the three of them all seemed to take in and ponder to themselves what Midoriya was saying. Todoroki was, surprisingly, the first to speak up as he gathered his lunch tray sharing a look with his green haired friend.

“I don’t have a clue as to what you may have done that could have upset them this greatly Midoriya. Though it is clear that whatever may have happened, whether its a misunderstanding or something you just simply don't recall, it has affected them gravely and if you ever want to salvage your relationship with them you are going to have to let them come to you on their own terms. Maybe all they really need is some space.” Todoroki offered as he rose from his seat going to dispose of his tray, leaving Midoriya to think over what he would do.

“I still think you should try to talk to them... “ Uraraka muttered as she looked across the cafeteria to where you now sat huddled in the center of your new group of friends, who were all focused on you most likely doing the same as they were now.

Midoriya followed her gaze and felt a pang in his heart as he saw you there, eyes still red from crying, though a smile was slowly returning to your features as your friends comforted you. Bakugo was sat next to you his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned in to speak to you. You nodded, your hair bouncing with each shake of you head.

Midoriya knew he was staring for far too long though he couldn’t pull himself away just yet. The way his heart had burned when he saw you upset, his instincts had told him to comfort you. Though now that he thought about it he couldn't tell why that had been. He let out a sigh as he gave you a finally parting glance. When it finally hits him.

He was in love with you.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the warm reception on the first part. I hope you enjoy this part just as much <3 Lemme know what you all think so far I love hearing your feedback!

A/N**: I should mention that while most of this is pre-plotted who the reader ends up with hasn’t been decided yet so lemme know who you are all routing for.

#BNHA #MHA #BNHA imagines #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #bnha fanfiction

141 notes · View notes

mrwinterr · 4 years

Text

The Consequence [4]

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Charles Blackwood x Female Reader

Summary: The reader is in search of Charles Blackwood as he’s been missing for several days and not once considering the warning that no good ever comes from being associated with a Blackwood.

Warnings: We Have Always Lived in the Castle spoilers (book and film). Smut (unprotected sex, anal sex, vaginal fingering, oral [female receiving], cum stuff - yeah, I said that), attempted dirty talk and language. Semi/non-canon elements to the original story.

*Chapter 4 Warning: I’m not fluent in Italian, so I used Google Translate and various articles to see which were the most commonly used structure for the words and phrases mentioned in this chapter. The smut starts right under the gif and it’s the smuttiest thing I’ve written to date.

Title Inspiration: “The Consequence” by You Me At Six

Disclaimer: There are characters, dialogue and references from the actual book and film, We Have Always Lived in the Castle. They belong to the author and I take no credit for any of these elements.

A/N: I had the majority of this chapter written since September and that was also the month I had begun my "big girl job”...thus the downward spiral of my fanfic life. Whatever. I got really carried away in this chapter. Comments, feedback, questions, etc. – all welcomed here!

P R E S E N T

In exchange for the sisters’ kindness, you offered to help them tidy up the house and fix things you could. This was probably one of the few times you were thankful your father had pushed household work on you since it allowed for you to move through the home effectively. You weren’t sure how long you were planning on staying there and the longer you did, the more you were separated from Charles, but what you did know was that these two had to have held the answers on where he was. You had to get on their good side. You just needed to buy more time.

Your first full week at the house went well. Constance was very easy to get along with, perhaps a bit overbearing and naïve at times, but nonetheless very kind. One would never suspect she was accused of murder in the past. She was more than enthused to find someone who was just as acquainted with the kitchen than she was. Her bright attitude actually allowed you to enjoy yourself for a moment doing these things. On the other hand, Merricat kept to herself a lot. She wasn’t as accepting or open like her older sister. You decided to limit interaction with her for a while.

Earlier that day, while you were preparing to bake gingerbread cookies with Constance, you noticed a few missing essential ingredients such as sugar, so you had offered to go back into the village to pick some up along with a few other items and necessities. The amount of money Constance handed to you made your eyes bulge, only confirming the rumor that you heard when you arrived that this family was indeed loaded.

It was nice to get out of the castle-like house after being coped up in it for days. They didn’t even own a phone, so you thought about ringinng your friend should you find the time. On the route to the market, you got sidetracked and gawked at a nice dress through the window of a small pop-up shop.

The day was still young, so you decided to walk in and browse at the store’s collection. The pastel colored dresses of the Spring collection had you wanting to try them on. The longer you spent looking through the racks of clothing, your mind wandered to a particular dress you haven’t been able to try on. You were supposed to be searching for your perfect wedding dress with your friend soon, but here you were a few towns over trying to find your missing fiancé. You weren’t going to lie; it stung a bit thinking about your wedding plans being halted for the time being. Your thoughts were then broken by a woman’s voice, “that dress would look gorgeous on you, dear.”

You slightly shook your head and realized you had part of the dress you were admiring still in your grasp. To anyone else in the store, you’d looked as if you were examining it rather than lost in thought. Quick to recover, you looked over to give the elderly woman a polite smile, “oh, I was just looking, but you know these things only look good on the display,” you replied playing down the compliment.

“Oh, nonsense! I can tell you possess a different kind of stature from most woman,” she commented back. You weren’t sure what to reply with. She didn’t seem to take your silence as a negative thing before she introduced herself as Helen Clarke and continued to speak, “I haven’t seen you around here. Are you new?” She had a loud voice and was straightforward.

“I’m just passing by,” you said once you told her your name, keeping it short.

“That’s lovely. How are you liking it in our little village?” Oh, she was chatty, you thought to yourself.

“It’s nice,” you lied through your teeth. Aside from Stella, a lot of the people here were hostile, gossiped way too much or were a bit full of themselves. They made the most two hated people of the village, Constance and Merricat, seem as if they were the more tolerable ones. You couldn’t wait to find Charles so you could leave this crazy town and head back home.

“Yes, it has its charm, does it? Say, I know the woman who owns this shop, would you like for me to get someone to help you try on that dress?” She was overly enthused and helpful as you shook your head, placing the dress back on the rack and quickly wanting to leave the shop.

“No, no. It’s alright. I must be going on my way to the market then back up on the hill before it gets dark,” you franticly tried to excuse yourself out of the situation but didn’t realize you spewed out too much information.

“Up on the hill?” She asked, as you also noted the volume of her voice had lowered, “you’re staying in the Blackwood house?” You eyed her warily before slowly nodding. “How are they? The girls. Are they safe? I’ve been trying to see if they’re okay, but poor things must be shaken from that night of the fire.”

You assured her that they were fine, but she didn’t stop talking, “I’ve been trying so hard to get Constance to return to the village after all she’s been through, but it seems I’ll never be able to help her.” You could tell that she wanted to help Constance and didn’t listen to the gossip about her, “she’s a lovely one and doesn’t deserve to be coped up in that house.” You silently agreed not knowing what else to say or do.

“I better get going,” you said trying to escape this conversation.

“Yes, I suppose I’ve kept you long enough. It was a pleasure to meet you, sweetheart. I hope to see you around. Please send my best regards to the girls,” she requested before you bid Helen goodbye, finally exiting the shop to continue your trek to the market.

After retrieving everything on your list, you phoned your friend and briefed her that you would be staying a few more days. You didn’t let on with too many details on where you were staying, concerned that she would come and drag you out of this village herself. You could just feel that the answers you needed were on the Blackwood property.

When you arrived back at the house, you assisted Constance in preparing dinner and soon you both dived into a topic about more recipes and gardening. It wasn’t really your forte, but you had to work with what you were given with. It was always slightly alarming when Merricat approached the two of you. She had a habit of just walking up quietly that it was kind of eerie, however you considered the result of her upbringing and adjusted to it.

As the three of you sat eating, Constance noticed the gold bracelet lined with tiny pearls wrapped around your wrist, “that’s a beautiful bracelet,” she pointed out.

You looked down to the jewelry on your wrist and smiled. The bracelet had been a gift from Charles. He loved to spoil you and who were you to deny him? “Oh, thank you,” you replied, holding the wrist the bracelet was on close to your chest, “it’s from Venice,” you beamed at the history of your bracelet.

“Italy?” Constance’s eyes widened as you nodded just as enthusiastic as she was in response. You adored Italy especially the last time you were there. You began to recount your trip to her including visiting the St. Mark’s Basilica, experiencing a ride on a gondola and walking alongside the many canals and bridges to admire the architecture. Your trip really piqued her interest.

“You should visit someday!” You encouraged her. Surely, with the amount of money she tried to shove at you earlier that day, they could afford a trip to Europe.

Constance flushed at the thought of exploring a new place, but you soon noticed a sense of sadness draped over her when she mentioned not even being able to barely step farther than her garden, especially not after recent events.

Trying to steer the conversation away from awkwardness, you decided to talk about the pop-up shop from earlier. You mentioned the many gorgeous dresses and accessories that would no doubt look great on Constance. She blushed at your words and shook her head trying to stay humble. You were really starting to feel bad that she felt she had to be coped up in this house in order to survive.

“How about you come with me next time?” You suggested trying to convince her to consider going back into the village, “you won’t be alone. We can both try on all the different dresses and then after find a nice place to eat; a little girl’s night out.” The least she could do was live a little and what better way than with retail therapy, right? “It’ll be fun! I’ll make sure nothing happens-“ you continued but your campaign was caught off.

“Amanita Phalloides contains three poisons: mushroom amanitin, which is slow but potent…“ Merricat started reciting. You looked back and forth between the sisters and realized what was happening. She was trying to change the subject. She probably felt threatened that something as simple as getting Constance to break out of her shell would disrupt their lives. “…phalloidin, which attacks the liver and kidneys and-,” Merricat attempted to continue until she was interrupted.

Surprising the sisters, you jumped in, “phallin, which dissolves red corpuscles although it is the least potent.” You noticed she stopped speaking all-together when your voices merged, her head snapped to your direction, but that didn’t stop you from continuing, “the first symptoms do not appear until seven to twelve hours after eating.” Your knowledge of the death cup mushroom seemed to catch her off guard and it made you feel good like beating someone at their own game. Neither sister said anything once you were done, but their gazes remained fixed on you. “It’s good to be aware of these things,” you said with a slight smug on your face before going back to finishing your meal.

That night in the room you were staying, you let out a sigh as you lied in bed. You draped your right arm over your eyes, but when the cool material of your bracelet hit your face, you lifted your arm to stare at the piece of jewelry you hadn’t taken off. Your left hand started absentmindedly tracing it until your eyes traveled to your engagement ring. They were beautiful indeed, but they were also reminders of your fiancé and you were really missing him. You almost slipped Charles’ name earlier when recalling the trip to Venice, in fact, you had to catch yourself a lot from mentioning his name as each day passed. He never left your mind. Before you dozed off you decided to replay the full details of that trip. It was the most heavenly yet sinful time of your life.

P A S T

It was your first visit out of the country and you were like a kid in a candy store. Charles was amused by you, but you didn’t care. You’d always dreamed about going to Italy even as far as wanting to settle here. There was so much to venture to, you both were lost in an endless maze of beauty, culture and history, and each other.

After a long day of touring the city, the both of you decided to cool down in the oversized tub inside the bathroom of the lavish hotel room. Charles reading something as you sat opposite of him at the other end of the tub, jotting things in your small notebook he’d gifted to you on your past birthday. This city gave you a lot of inspiration. There was a small window that overlooked the wondrous city while also at a level of decency to allow privacy for the occupant. Bathing together wasn’t something new, seeing as how intimate you both had become over the years.

You set your stuff aside and watched Charles turn the pages of what he was reading while occasionally whistling to a random tune. You took this opportunity to soak in the water, sinking in, closing your eyes and resting your head on the edge of the tub. That was proven to be short-lived as you felt Charles hands skim along your calves. Your eyes fluttered opened and you slid your body up slightly to look at him.

Charles’ hand reached across him, grabbing one of yours to pull you forward in his direction. A devious smile sprawled on his face when you chose to straddle him for a comfortable position. Arms wrapped his neck and legs on either side of him, Charles’ hands dipped in and out of the water as they ran up and down your back. His hair was slicked back from being wet and yours was loosely made up, some strands not cooperating in place and wet at the ends. He pulled you in by the nape of your neck to him so his lips could finally claim your own.

His hands snaked their way around to your breasts to grope them causing you to moan in response. He knew how to get you going with and without foreplay. You started to rock your hips and rub your pussy on his hardening cock. He detached his lips from yours to suck in a harsh breath at the feeling. He just couldn’t wait to get inside and feel you. Quite frankly you couldn’t wait for that either, so you didn’t. You raised yourself up a bit and gripped his cock. Without breaking eye contact, you slowly sink down his hard length, the both of you groaning at the feeling of him stretching you the deeper he slipped inside. You took his cock so well and he absolutely thrived on it. His hands settled on your hips to help guide you up and down until you found your own rhythm.

“You’re so sexy,” he said breathlessly as his hands left your hips to do their own thing and instead gripped the edge of the tub, watching you ride him. You placed a hand on his strong chest while the other was loosely wrapped around his neck as you brought your lips down on his, tongues not hesitating to dart into each other’s mouths. Your hand slipped down his chest and into the water to reach down behind you and cup his balls, palming them. “Oh my…fuck,” Charles growled against your lips. You took his bottom lip between your teeth and grounded harder on him. He was so deep; you let out a moan each time you felt the hairs on his lower abdomen rub against your clit that only layered thick onto the feeling brewing in your lower region.

At some point, his hands regained purchase on your body and started to buck his hips upwards to add onto the work. His movements were so fast, it was your turn to hold onto the sides of the tub for some stability. Each thrust sent a new wave of pleasure through you that you almost found it hard to catch your breath. You thought you might as well be drowning in this tub as he brought his mouth to one of your nipples while the other was being taken care of by his skilled fingers.

You watched as strands of his hair fell out of place, him bite his lip and eyes squeezing shut. It was a tall-tale sign that he was close to coming. The sight of your orgasm racking through your body and its effect on him, the way your eyes glossed from the pleasure, lips parted to let out inaudible gasps, chest heavily rising from trying to catch your breath, legs quivering, and your pussy clenching tight around his throbbing member, were your tall-tale signs for him and things that didn’t make it hard for him to follow you into total euphoria.

You grabbed his face in your hands and slammed your lips to his once more as you felt his cum continue to shoot through inside of you repeatedly. The movements slowed down, but didn’t stop because it felt so good, the warmth provided to each other, you both didn’t want it to end there. All that could be heard was water sloshing and the faint noises of the city outside mixed with each of your uncontrollable pants. There was no self-control whenever you both lost yourselves in each other.

Walking along the cobblestoned pavements, footsteps echoing, you started to reflect how happy you felt. There were no worries, and no one here judged you. It was a busy city packed full of people, but the only person that stood out to you was the man holding your hand. You looked down at your hands clasped together and a faint smile made its way on across your face when you looked at the new accessory adorned your wrist.

Sometime during the day, Charles stepped away from you to speak to a native of the city in Italian asking for directions. As much as you loved to hear him speak in a different language, your eyes wandered at the many shops along the strip. A sparkling display caught your attention as you started gravitating towards the jewelry in a window of a store that sounded like it was out of your budget. You weren’t sure how long you were admiring the piece until you felt Charles’ hand at the small of your back, breaking your trance. You tried to convince him you were only looking, even though you thought it was one of the most gorgeous pieces of jewelry you’ve ever seen. You didn’t even wear much jewelry either because nothing like this was as dazzling back at home or you definitely couldn’t afford it. He reiterated that he wanted to spoil you as if this trip wasn’t enough. He gave you everything.

The city was just as breathtaking in the night than it was in the day. From the top of the balcony of your hotel room, you overlooked the people whose nights were just beginning, the streets and the gondolas that were slowly drifting in the water, which seemed to sparkle casted by the golden glow illuminating from the streetlamps. The cool breeze swept your hair away from your shoulders exposing your neck and causing you to slightly shiver as you stood there in a long white backless dress. The trip was nearing its end and Charles had taken you to an elegant restaurant that you couldn’t read the menu to, so Charles took care of everything.

You instantly warmed up when Charles encased your body with his arms snaking around your waist before settling on each side of your hips and pressing his body against your back. Your hair blown aside from the wind allowed him easy access to plant a kiss behind your ear. The action stirred a small tingle in you. The response tightened his grip when he felt you involuntarily shiver with each contact his lips made on your skin. He progressively started to lick and nip at your ear lobe before kissing a trail down along your neck. You leaned into his body, head cocked to the side and thrown back to rest on his shoulder, providing him full access, your hands grasping onto his forearms for some stability as you slowly started to unravel for him.

Charles then spun you around to face him, “you’re so lovely,” he said just audible for the both of you to hear as he stared at you. You wanted to melt in his hands as he ran them down your exposed back. He leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your lips. It held a much deeper emotion to it, but you didn’t linger on to that thought too long as he pulled away from you too soon for your liking. He chuckled lightly at your eagerness and brought a hand up to cradle your face. When you opened your eyes to look at him, like always, you found yourself lost in sea.

“You’re it for me, baby,” he said before one of his hands reached down his pocket to produce a small, black velvet box. They said your life flashes before your eyes when you die, but can the same be said for love? Because the last few years with Charles flashed before yours as you stared at his hands opening the box to reveal a generous sized ring. Was he it for you?

This was a man who appeared out of nowhere in your life during one of your breakdowns, enlightened a whole new vision and version of yourself that you didn’t think was inside of you, including developing a sense of confidence and thick skin. You came to the conclusion that if you died and your life did flash before your eyes, you definitely wanted Charles to consume and star in it.

You didn’t let Charles finish whatever speech he put together before you pulled him in for a kiss. A kiss that embodied the unique bond, exploding throughout both your bodies. When you pulled away, you watched as he let out another chuckle, licking his lips before speaking, “so is that a yes?” You playfully rolled your eyes at him and confirmed your acceptance. After he slipped the ring on your finger, you raised your hand to examine it. You weren’t admiring its size, shape or beauty, but what it represented. He was everything.

The last day in Venice started out quite interestingly and would become unforgettable. No doubt you and Charles spent the night before continuing to celebrate the first step to your promises of spending forever with each other. You were spent to say the least. Your body felt heavy as you lied lazily on your stomach, arms tucked under the pillow your face was buried into. Unbeknownst to you, the white bed sheet that covered your body began to slide down, exposing you and then seemed to stop just below your lower back.

If the cool temperature of the room didn’t stir you awake, it was the set of warm lips that were leaving wet trails down your spine. A pair of strong hands on either side of your body started to make their way up from your waist, along your ribcage, brushing the sides of your breasts and back down. You let out a tired noise, not exactly ready to get up.

A tolerable amount of weight was placed on top of you, slightly sinking you deeper into the mattress, but enough to let you breathe. Hands traced your arms underneath the pillow your head rested on before fingers intertwined with yours. You peaked one eye open just in time for your new fiancé to place a kiss on your cheek, down any patch of skin visible to him, from your neck and between your shoulder blades.

Charles started to slowly shift his body up and down along your ass through the sheets and hitting the skin of your lower back that wasn’t covered, allowing you to feel his stiff member. Even between the sheets, the friction the threads created between the two of you felt just as good. It gave off some sense of thrill knowing what’s to come soon. You focused on how his breathing started to increase the more he started to ground his hips into you.

“Mmm…baby,” you whined when a particular thrust was noticeably harder than the previous ones. The sharp movement had you involuntarily squeezing his hands in yours and your hips retaliating by bucking back up to meet his.

You heard him hiss at your sudden reaction and release your hands. The next thing you knew, warmth had left you momentarily as he sat up. Before you could turn over and see where he went, your head left the pillow as you got dragged to the center of the bed, lower body hoisted up. You were now bent over, ass in the air, the bed sheet gracefully falling down to your bent knees that were dug into the mattress. Charles ran his hands along the sides of your thighs before settling on top and grabbing a handful of your flesh in each of his palms. He wedges one of thighs in between your legs to knock them apart, enough to give him room to work with.

Those lips that left wet tracks along your spine earlier were now leaving scattered nips and kisses on your ass, while one of his hands snaked its way around one of your thighs to the front and stopped at your clit. Slow small circles and the combination of soft kisses, this tender side of him was always refreshing and you knew it wouldn’t last, so you tried to bask in this moment.

Then you felt the familiar structure of his face pressed between your cheeks and Charles poked his tongue out to lick a strip between your folds. It didn’t take long for him to buildup on his routine of fucking you with his tongue. He continued to rub harsher circles on your now sensitive and soaking bud and the hand, that was helping you stay balanced on your knees from giving out due to the immense pleasure you were feeling, left its place, only for Charles to insert a finger inside you – his tongue and digit taking turns in you. You gasped when he took it upon himself to insert another finger and experimentally spread apart inside you.

“Fuck, babe. I can’t believe how tight you are,” he groaned as he attempted once more at a scissoring motion inside your pussy, marveling at the sight of stretching you out.

His hands were doing quite a number, you started to feel your arousal sliding down your thighs and sweat gathering on your forehead. “…mmm, but you’re always tight, aren’t you?” His voice now laced with a huskier tone, “no matter how many times I stuff my big cock in this pussy,” his words egging you on while he also nipped at your inner thighs.

The bed shifted as Charles sat back up, his bare cock now settled between your ass. He started to slide his hot, hardened member much like he did several minutes ago, but this time nothing was between the two of you. You could now perfectly feel every ridge and vein rubbed up against you mixed with the pre-come that collected itself on its tip. Charles bent down to nip at your ear lobe that wasn’t pressed against the mattress and started to encourage you to chase your orgasm.

His fingers hadn’t left your clit, but the rhythm grew very relentless, and you knew you were going to be feeling its bruising effect later on. Your thighs began twitching the moment you finally reached a peak that erupted, breathing labored and fistfuls of white linen now in your tight grasps.

Charles whispered soft praises in your ear and started kissing another path down your spine. Your lower body was about to finally give out until he caught your hips and kept them steady. You let out a small wince of pain as the skin of your knees started to burn and become slightly sore from being dug into the sheets too long.

You could hear the wet sounds as Charles fisted his cock, coating it with your juices that soaked his hand. He dragged his heavy member though your folds, gathering more wetness and you braced yourself for the next intrusion, but then you felt him linger and slide against the ring of tight muscle, the tip slightly grazing it. He’s only once attempted entry in your backside, and surprisingly he didn’t even put up much of a fight for it back then, so this set an alarm off in you.

“What-“ you tried to sit up on your elbows and speak up, but you couldn’t. You were vulnerable, wrecked and weak, as if your body unwillingly surrendered to him.

You face planted back onto the mattress as Charles pushed you back down roughly onto it with one hand and then resumed his task, “you trust me, right, baby?” you heard him speak from behind. Your heart started racing. You weren’t sure if you were ready for that. Then you thought back to the first night with him and the small amount of insecurity you harbored resurfaced. The familiar question of trust and fear of losing him. You turned your head to the side and you squinted as you stared at the ring that sparkled harshly from the ray of sunlight that peaked through the crack of the curtains. He just chose to spend the rest of his life with you, but you sold yourself to Charles a long time ago.

You nodded against the bed, but that didn’t seem to suffice for Charles because the next thing you felt was a sharp pain run through your scalp as he grabbed a fistful of your hair in his hand, neck snapping back to pull your head up.

“No, I need to hear you say it,” he demanded.

You braced your palms in front of you to help support your body in this position before responding to him, “I-I trust you, Charles.”

“You want this,” he stated and you could feel the tip right at your hole.

“I do. I do want this. I want you, Charles,” you confirmed before letting out a low groan.

It was all he needed as he slowly inched the thick bulbous head of his cock inside you. Charles let out a straggled groan at how incredibly tight this entry was. You tried to put on a brave act, but the pain had you second guessing all too quickly.

“Ch-Charles, it’s not gonna fit, baby, st-“ you struggled to speak.

“Shh, baby girl. Yes, it will,” he was quick to cut you off before you could tell him to stop as he tried assuring you while continuing to push his cock all the way in. Wanting to please him, you toughed it out and waited for the initial pain to pass through. It would be worth it in the end.

A new sensation started to bubble up inside of you. It was rather conflicting because on one side you felt as if you were being ripped apart and then the other pleasure began to consume you. Charles filled you and he filled you up really good.

With a quick snap of his hips, he fully bottomed out. You let out a loud yelp from the stinging feeling of his forceful action. His grip still in your hair, he started to build up a rhythm - fast. You hardly had any time to adjust to this new position, but he wouldn’t deliberately cause you any pain, right? The truth was it did hurt at first, but soon enough that sensation that was brewing in your lower abdomen started to boil with each shallow thrust and you were about ready to burst.

Your head was swimming as he left sloppy kisses to your tear stained cheeks. At some point, your eyes began to water from the pain and pleasure. Your mouth hung wide open and eyes half-lidded, you struggled to keep them trained on him. A particular thrust whipped out a wanton moan out of you, signifying you were enjoying this, and Charles laughed. He was actually laughing at you.

“Ragazza sporca,” he said more to himself. Dirty girl. You were his dirty girl, alright.

You didn’t know what he said, but you still heard him. Your body began to slump forward and he let go of your hair. That now free hand found its way back to the bundle of nerves of your sensitive clit. You were moaning uncontrollably and that boosted his ego. All that could be heard throughout the room was a remix of moans, a faint squelching wet noise and skin slapping.

You let out a small cry when the built-up sensation in you just snapped. The juices from your orgasm started cascading down your thighs, leaving a damp spot on the bed. Charles wasn’t that far behind. It came as a surprise when he pulled out, leaving you gaping and quickly flipped you over onto your back before finally releasing streams of his warm cum onto your stomach even projecting as far as towards your breasts and neck.

“Fotter mi,” Charles said breathlessly while admiring the mess he made upon you. Fuck me. He plopped down on the spot next to you and gawked at your sated form, chest rising and his cum sliding down the curves of your body, “mi fai impazzire,” he commented. You make me crazy.

After a couple of minutes, Charles got up to retrieve a washcloth and hastily cleaned you up for now. He brought the sheet back up to cover your bare bodies and lied down behind you. His hands rested right below your breast with your own smaller ones trying to encase them and his head nestled in the crook of your neck, where he lulled you to rest with litters of sweet kisses, but before you dozed off again you heard him say one last thing, “baby, you and I have many plans to make when we get back home.”

P R E S E N T

You weren’t really sure if those plans were already set in motion or going to happen or what he was exactly even talking about as you sat down at the front steps of the house. You were taking a small break after trying to help clear out the front yard of the destroyed furniture and other objects.

The sisters didn’t seem to want to do it or it was the last thing on their list – most likely having to do with the fear of being caught by someone from the village, so you took it upon yourself. Besides it allowed you to come out and get some fresh air as you couldn’t understand being coped up in this big house for that long.

A slight movement within your distance suddenly broke your thoughts. You squinted to try and get a better look, but what you weren’t anticipating was it be a cat. A black cat was sitting a few feet away from you, staring at you. You started coaxing the cat to you, believing he was a stray. The cat slowly walked in your direction but stopped before studying you.

“Here, kitty,” you continued to allure the cat to you, “I won’t hurt you.” He ultimately was convinced and hopped onto your lap. You let out a small chuckle and smiled as the cat snuggled close to you, “you’re a handsome cat, aren’t you?” you said returning his affection.

Constance’s voice calling out to you pulled your attention away from the feline. You stood up, the cat still in your arms, and before you stepped back inside the house you stopped to think if it was okay to bring an animal inside. Were the sisters allergic to cats? Constance’s insistent request for you didn’t allow you to think too long and you decided to just bring the cat with you. You met Constance in the kitchen and stood a little weary, a bit anxious to see her response to you bringing in an unknown animal into her home.

“There you are! I wanted to ask if you can help with preparing…,” Constance started but once her eyes landed on the cat in your arms, she lost her train of thought. You started petting the cat to keep him calm and waited to see what Constance’s next reaction would be. “Oh, you’ve found Jonas,” she said with a smile now on her face.

“Jonas?” You inquired. She knew this cat.

“Yes, he belongs to Merricat,” she explained, “we haven’t seen him in a few days. Oh, will Merricat be delighted to see him.”

“Jonas,” you said with more sound, now knowing what to call him.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Merricat from the other room, avoiding your gazes as she tried to quickly walk past the kitchen until she was caught by Constance, who called out to her.

“Oh, Merricat! Come here! We have a wonderful surprise for you!” She boasted.

You heard Merricat’s footsteps draw near and when you turned around to face her, she stopped and stared at Jonas in your arms. She had that same blank look on her face but with a bit more sense of shock surrounding her aura. She must be very protective of Jonas.

You extended your arms out a little to offer her cat back to her. She began to reach out for him, and you took notice of the dirt embedded deep in her fingernails.

Was she digging something?

Nonetheless, she quietly thanked you as she started petting Jonas. You gave her a small smile, believing maybe she was finally warming up to you.

Later that night, you were frantically digging through your suitcase in search for your notebook. It was your current notebook, the latest on that Charles gifted to you and the one you were writing in the day before he left. Clothes scattered the floor, toiletries and accessories shoved off and knocked over on the dresser and pillows and blankets all in disarray. Moisture began to build up and cloud your vision, but it wasn’t deterring you from panicking on your notebook’s whereabout.

You plopped down on the bed and heavily sighed in defeat. You could’ve sworn you’d packed it in your bag and taken it with you. It contained a lot of personal anecdotes of you and Charles and other random photos, works or drawings.

Your life was in that journal. It wasn’t with you and if that wasn’t you, Charles’ absence only felt even stronger.

You just wanted to go home now.

A/N: Well, you survived this chapter. I have the last two planned out, but nothings actually written yet since I’m literally married to my job.

#mrwinterr writes #charles blackwood x reader #charles blackwood x y/n #charles blackwood x female reader #charles blackwood imagine #charles blackwood fanfic #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan smut #we have always lived in the castle #whalitc #charles blackwood fic #the consequence #charles blackwood #charles blackwood smut #sebastian stan x reader

27 notes · View notes

priceweed90-blog · 4 years

Text

Android Mobile App Development Ide Opinions & Information

This course of mainly consists of reworking the app's programming construction and making it portable and accessible on other platforms. Surat. The crew contains nicely-skilled programmers, graphic designers, and entrepreneurs to deliver environment friendly software program on the go. Cell application is a sort of software program that's often operational with sensible units, through which B2C businesses can thrive. With the god-sent function of push notifications, one can get important information about earthquakes, floods and different emergencies based on the automated analysis of reports outlets. I hope this article will help you decide the most effective platform in your apps or games and offer you enough information so that you can choose.

Healthcare Apps

Books (on Safari Books Online)

Duration of app development

Cellular Performance Testing Instruments

Unix Shell & Apache Pig Installation

Path 2: Wait 7 days and publish a content report

Reasonably priced Worth

Within the western world these problems are no more thanks to the development of knowledge expertise. The growth of on-demand services inspired many entrepreneurs and formed the muse for a lot of successful start-ups around the world. To get the utmost benefit out of the android software development one can only consider professional company which offers higher companies in this competitive market. Can s/he advise you find out how to market your app and how to guage its efficiency. In the case of a faster framework, programming errors and issues can come up in an unpredictable pattern which may be exhausting to research for software developers.

It will assist an superior arrangement in tackling points identified with execution and consumer encounter. In-App Advertising: The app is free to obtain and use but incorporates advertisements that will help you earn income. This sport is just not solely about flying by way of hoops; feel free to go away the course and discover the nice mountains and flowing river valleys across the large digital world. 6. Manic Digger: Wonderful Free Different! OS or Android- A very powerful question that each app owner has to reply earlier than beginning the app improvement process. This makes the app compatible for operating systems beyond the native one. Most of the people turning to Android have one reason in widespread and that's big selection of units available and you can also make your own choice. Massive variety of cell phones is out there with Android.

%tweet%

— %t_name% (@%t_account%) 08 08, 2020

For the reason that mobile users get more selective when it comes to their cell phone designs, display screen sizes and naturally the software the phones run on, the challenges for mobile app builders are inclined to rise. The mobile applications developed for different platforms need to be examined a number of times in terms of efficiency, accuracy and usability. For the reason that chances of conflicts are higher when the app is to be run on totally different cellular working systems, extra assistance is required from the builders to make sure easy functioning. Following are some tips that developers should keep in thoughts during app growth. To make sure that the app runs as smoothly on these different operating methods, the cross platform app development process needs to be adopted.

To make this happen, the cross platform software growth professionals must work laborious in the backend. Gadget function : Native app is definitely better for those who want system options like camera, notification and gesture and so on. • Native app is healthier if you would like your app to work when there is no such thing as a connectivity. What's Flutter and React Native? The apps, in order to be compatible with all of those completely different mobile working methods, need to undergo cross platform software development process. Whatever your corporation process or context, Blueberry has the experience to offer bespoke, complete solutions to cell integration, enhancing not only communication but additionally effectivity and productivity.

Either for everyone or certain group of individuals, either in business or pure senseless enjoyable. Having a devoted cellular application for your business or model is the easiest method to reach the maximum variety of your targeted group. Barcode Reader searches eBay, Amazon, Google Product Search and variety of other worth comparability services and shops. No special equipment is required for using the app on iPhone 3GS, iPhone 4 or iPad 2. Barcode capture with camera works on iOS 4.0 and later, on iPhone OS 3.x all barcodes are entered manually. The appliance will efficiently run on iOS and Android platforms and the code may be efficiently reused for progressive internet functions and even for the desktop functions.

Moreover, the Android Software program Improvement Package allows developers to construct artistic and interactive apps, so as to enhance the usability of your machine. Google gives Software program Development Kit (SDK) for the creation of Android Utility. Parting Ideas There are occasions when businesses attempt to hurry things which though meets their operation however fail to detect the safety loopholes within the Android app during the event section. https://androidfantasy.org/top-11-places-start-android-mobile-app-development/ will attempt to cowl some points which can assist you to decide the platform and which can give you higher gross sales and larger customer base. Protecting this in your thoughts, you want to decide on the development platform that can show you how to construct a successful software for each Android and iOS.

Android has obtained giant number of phone producer. This analysis helps to reduce the number of malicious applications, however can't catch all of them. Expertise plenty of routes stuffed with crazy stunts, as well as a variety of helicopter fashions. Therefore, staying competitive and providing a superior consumer expertise on completely different gadgets has develop into a problem for majority of software platforms providing firms. Apple might need larger consumer base but Android can be getting some pretty good sales. Good evaluation, I hadn't heard of buzztouch gona check it out. Unit testing will ensure that you just take a look at out each unit individually and with the assistance of hot reload all testing strategies are made even higher.

It may well analyze your app's performance and test repeatedly. It reduces expenses and overheads and can test over a thousand actual gadgets. Such versatile purposes might be utilized in numerous zones, spreading over from improvement to instruction. Android OS gives users the complete customization option, therefore, one can completely embrace imagination, which will surely result in revolutionary and artistic apps improvement. Android was born in between 2005-2006 and later brought into existence in 2007 by Google and since then its rising at a faster pace. Although we see pattern of Android Application Growth rising and so because the selling of gadgets.

#android app developement #android studio

1 note · View note

bubbletimestories · 4 years

Text

A good man (Vampire!Steve Rogers/Reader)

Summary: The super soldier's serum did not only give strength and endurance, Steve Rogers learned it at his expense and after decades of isolation, the vampire resumes service with the Avengers, hoping to be able to forget his nature to save lives. But your meeting risks destroying his hopes...or not ?

Warnings: blood, death, curses

Themes: vampire, transformation, love, heroism, choice

A/N. I don’t really like Captain America but...well, it was fun

Translated with Google traduction, sorry ^^’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23513203

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

Chapter 3.

A wrathful voice echoes a few meters from the pasteboard decor and Steve puts down the files, intrigued and eager to change his mind. He pushes open the door, not at all surprised to find himself in a dark concrete corridor, and tries to find out where these vociferations can come from. In an adjoining room, much more austere than his bedroom, he finds a young woman waving sketches with an exasperated look under the worried gaze of the "nurse" who was at the soldier's bedside when he woke up.

- Have you ever looked at a photo? Or even seen a movie from that period? No wonder he discovered the hoax so quickly, he could see the strap of your ... rhaaa! It’s stupid!

You are deeply annoyed that no one took the time to listen to you before launching this ridiculous masquerade. You would have taken the time to take care of the costume down to the smallest detail, to ensure that the underwear is also vintage or even that the agent's hair is tied. But nobody is listening to you, nobody! With a wave of your hand, you dismiss the young lady who fled by snapping her heels, her man's tie (another mistake) hopping at each step. Exhausted, you drop into a chair with a dramatic sigh, not immediately noticing the man with the impressive build who enters the room. Politely, he clears his throat.

- Hmm ... You seem to know a lot about 1940s fashion.

You jump and look up, detailing the newcomer for a fraction of a second (you couldn’t resist) before taking control.

- I ... I love a job well done. It was a very elegant period.

Agent Carter, she was a beautiful woman who should have served as a reference. But obviously, you will not make this remark out loud, already knowing the relationships that Captain America had with her. Instead, you stand up and reach out to introduce yourself.

- Agent Y/L/N, I am delighted to know that you are with us. - Steve Rogers, me too, ma'am.

His big hand presses yours very gently, as if he were afraid of having too much strength and you smile. You know a certain Agent Coulson who will be delighted to know that his idol is awake. But for the moment, you appreciate having a face to face with the hero, not knowing if you will see him again one day. With a gesture, you invite him to sit down, pushing away the sketches strewn across your desk, a set of notes on vintage outfits, decorations ...

- Waking up seventy years after the war must have shocked you…

You’re trying to imagine how the young man might feel as he thinks about what to say to corroborate Nick Fury’s version. He never liked to lie, but he had to learn in the last century. So he nods.

- At the beginning, yes, but I'm glad to know that Hitler’s butt was kicked.

You have a laugh and he immediately appreciates this spontaneous sound, he is not sure to find much sincerity in this nest of spies. You think that he must feel very lonely, all his loved ones having disappeared or died.

- I know that this must be very confusing and that SHIELD is not really a warm den but I hope you can count me as a friend from now on. If you need to talk or just want to have a coffee, don't hesitate.

In spite of yourself, you replace a wick behind your ear, it was obvious that you were not going to stay stuck in front of the angelic air of the young man on whom you did a thesis. Well, to be precise, it was on "American and German propaganda figures in wartime, the conflict of icons" but you devoted a huge part to him.

- It would be my pleasure, Agent Y/L/N. - You can call me Y/N.

It'll probably take a while, but you'd love to be able to get close to him, just as a friend, of course. Unfortunately, it is not today that you will be able to get to know each other, an all-black agent coming to warn Captain America that Director Fury wishes to speak to him. You say goodbye quickly and watch him leave, thinking with a touch of emotion that you have thawed America’s ass, and successfully.

Chapter 1.

Murmurs circulate in the crowd of high ranking officers and scientists gathered for this major military and genetic advance. A super-soldier is an innovation that will pay off especially in these times of world war. Some people talk about money, a lot about peace that this hero of a new genre will offer. Installed in his capsule, Steve Rogers is far from being as enthusiastic, the heart beating strongly in his temples at the risk of deafening the final recommendations that are addressed to him. Already, they strap him, they prick him, they stuff him with tools to measure his heart rate, the thickness of his muscles as if he were only a laboratory animal and for a second, the young man is worried that the experiment would fail or, worse, that he would only become a clever monkey in the hands of the powerful ones. In a falsely playful tone, he turns to Dr. Erkskin:

- You save me any of that schnapps? - Not as much as I should have.

Anyway, he is not allowed to drink alcohol for a dozen hours, to make sure everything is in order. With a distracted ear, he listens to the scientist interact with Howard Stark, his attention constantly returning to Agent Carter who constitutes a warm presence in this huge icy room full of white coats. Before she goes to join her superiors, she takes the time to give him an encouraging smile and Steve regains some courage. A nurse sticks a needle in his arm, the sensation lasting only for a moment.

- That wasn’t so bad. - That was a tetanus shot.

Erskine exchanges a look with the patient but adds nothing, letting the maneuver continue as several tubes filled with blue liquid are brought in. The cold plates make the subject's thin body shudder, concentrating on his breathing. A reassuring hand is placed on his shoulder as he tenses up when he feels the serum penetrate his body. That's it, it's time to become a legend or die in front of a hundred people, nothing to worry about. The cabin closes in on him and after a final attempt at humor, Steve grits his teeth and prepares for the worst, repeating why he is doing all this, thinking about this war that he can end, all these soldiers who are waiting to see their mother, their sister, their relatives. He thinks of Bucky, it's his turn to protect him.

The cabin begins to radiate intense white light as if Steve is turning into a being of light and they will need an angel to defeat the dark forces that are crushing Europe. Everyone holds their breath as the silence fills with the roar of the Vita rays pulsing in the metal box. The buzz is soon joined by a cry of pain that goes on and on, cracking the certainties of some of the spectators who look at themselves, worried. They scream to stop everything, they shout his first name but Steve refuses, he can still hold on, there is no question that everything fails because of him. He is strong enough to bear it. The devices crackle in sparks in a final cacophony then everything stops, humming, blinding light and breathing of scientists and soldiers who, all, watch for a sign of life in the cabin. Is he dead ? Is he alive? Even Rogers is wondering as the doors open and he regains consciousness, his muscles on fire as if he had been passed under a tank. If he is in pain, it is sign that he is still alive, but in what condition?

Abs, abs, abs ... This word goes through more than one spirit as the result of the experiment is revealed, tall, muscular, glistening with sweat : a success. Some officers find themselves feeling more aroused than they should, coughing seriously as they rush to get a closer look at this super soldier they've been promised. Steve lets himself be supported by Erskine and Stark coming down from the capsule, his mind still foggy and struggling to understand how much he has changed. He is just sure of one thing, to see all these people gathered and who measure for the most a good less head than him: he grew up. As they begin to applaud and congratulate themselves, another thought comes to gnaw at the soldier's birth joy: how much has he changed inside? While cheer is a must, Steve sincerely hopes to rise to the challenge and become the hero the world needs, not just another monster.

***

Captain America, a somewhat snoring name but one that the young man has been carrying better since he delivered his friend from the clutches of HYDRA. Their exploits are starting to make headlines and enemy troops are increasingly worried about seeing the man with the blue, red and white breastplate appear. It took the soldier a while to get used to his new body and new abilities, but now he has mastered his strength and his shield to perfection, much to the amazement of his companion, James Barnes. The latter is just beginning to understand that he is no longer the protector in their duo, even if he still looks down to look for his almost brother, before remembering. Today, as he walks amid the smoldering rubble of a Nazi base, the young man has definitely regained hope for the future, carried (in part) by a little guy from Brooklyn.

- Steve? Where are you ?

Bucky sets out to find his partner, moving away from his comrades who sing their victory in a mixture of German, French and English. His worn boots resonate as he sinks into the dark, his gun in his hand and his senses on the alert, watching for shadows in search of a possible enemy. Soon, he finally see Steve's muscular back, molded in his blue mud-stained uniform. Bending over something, the hero seems focused on his task and does not immediately hear his friend, realizing too late that he is no longer alone.

- Steve ...

The man's livid face twists into a painful mask as he meets a shocked look, the soldier tensing his hand on the trigger of his weapon even if he does not shoot, frozen.

- Bucky ... I can explain ...

His voice broken by fear contrasts with the vision of the inert body near him, his throat ripped and scarlet like the octopus on his uniform, with the blood flowing on the chin of the famous Captain America.

Chapter 2.

Alone in his bunk, Steve cannot sleep, constantly crossing and uncrossing his thin arms to try to get the anxiety out. Tomorrow, he will finally be able to serve his country as he dreamed and he is delighted but that does not prevent him from being worried. With his usual compassionate air behind his glasses, Dr. Erskine joined him with a bottle of alcohol, fully understanding how tense the young man can be. Himself is far from being calm, didn't his last subject become a monster? As Steve voices his doubts about his legitimacy, the scientist feels it is time to reveal some things, secrets that make the enemy even more terrible.

After grabbing two glasses, Abraham begins to speak in his soft, pensive voice, as if he were counting a story, his story. The best ideas can become weapons if they fall into the wrong hands, and if so, should we really blame the inventor who just works under the threat of a weapon? In a few words, Erskine paints a portrait of the head of HYDRA, this Schmidt obsessed with power and the occult arts, ready to sell his soul to acquire supremacy. Captivated and understanding what role the supersoldier formula could have played in this plan, Steve asks:

- Did it make him strong?

His friend looks down, the images going up in his memory, as vivid and burning as a brand with a hot iron. Whatever the outcome tomorrow, he can never forgive himself for his failure, only trying to compensate for it.

- Yes, but there were….other effects. The serum was not ready, but more important, the man... The serum amplifies what is inside. Good becomes great... Bad becomes worse.

Schmidt was bad, rotten to the core and the serum only exposed this darkness to everyone's. Each time Abraham closed his eyes, he saw the gray skin, the protruding veins, the pupils as scarlet as the blood that the Nazi was thirsty for, so thirsty. Here in the United States, the word "vampire" sneers but it is this, a terrible and voracious creature that will not stop until it has bled the world to the last drop. Chasing this image to return to the present, the scientist pours schnapps in the two glasses while explaining to Steve how important his physical weakness and his sense of justice are.

- Whatever happens tomorrow, promise me you’ll stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier...but a good man.

They cheer, but before the young man can take a sip, Erskine reminds him that he must be fasting for the next day's procedure. Docile, Steve hands him his glass and lets the genius scientist get drunk in his place since he doesn't need to be fasting. And, thinks the old man, it may be better not to be sober. Did Rogers even understand how much this experience was going to affect him? It's not certain, but Abraham doesn't feel strong enough to talk about it any longer. It may be a sign of cowardice but he prefers to leave his hopes to this young man so invested, determined and pure.

Chapter 3.

The war is over. Nazi Germany was defeated and the world slowly fell back to sleep in a peace intended to make people forget the horrors that were more than 50 years ago now. Forces continue to operate to seize power but in a much more subdued way, the fighting between Good and Evil is now held in the utmost secrecy. Housed in a replica of a 1940s hospital room, the man known as Captain America reads and rereads files for information. Obviously, he plays the idiots as he was asked, affecting not to have known the last decades. To his amazement, the idea that he could have been frozen in a block of ice comes as no surprise, and this version was swallowed by the agents who come and go in the corridors chatting. Perhaps it is a more acceptable vision of things than the truth.

Slowly, the young man raises an arm in front of his face, the rays of a false sun hitting his skin as he thinks of what he is, a supernatural and immortal being that people are once again seeking to enlist to save the world. Although he was told about a team, made up of Tin men, Nordic gods and greenish monsters. This Nick Fury must be crazy to want to surround himself with such fairground phenomena ... or a genius. The vampire's blue eyes veil slightly when he thinks of Dr. Erskine, who died far too quickly before he can guide the young man into his new life. So far, Steve has refused to join civilization and its wars: Vietnam, Korea, he has avoided all of them but what would his mentor say about the next? Would he encourage him to join this SHIELD and his hero program?

- I don't care about the rush, you could at least have put on a suitable bra! Round cups, I don't believe it!

- Have you ever looked at a photo? Or even seen a movie from that period? No wonder he discovered the hoax so quickly, he could see the strap of your ... rhaaa! It’s stupid!

- Hmm ... You seem to know a lot about 1940s fashion.

You jump and look up, detailing the newcomer for a fraction of a second (you couldn’t resist) before taking control.

- I ... I love a job well done. It was a very elegant period.

- Agent Y/L/N, I am delighted to know that you are with us. - Steve Rogers, me too, ma'am.

- Waking up seventy years after the war must have shocked you…

- At the beginning, yes, but I'm glad to know that Hitler’s butt was kicked.

- It would be my pleasure, Agent Y/L/N. - You can call me Y/N.

Chapter 4.

Rubbing your hands covered with dried blood on your pants, you finally take a break after several hours caring for the wounded, civilians and agents. What the media already calls the "Battle of New York » will not have lasted long, a few hours at most, but the damage has been immense, the victims numerous. However, these are happy mines that flourish in the streets because the crowd has found new protectors and a whole team! No doubt that the coming days will be devoted to these heroes and their courage, you are looking forward to them.

Exhausted, broken and dreaming only of sleeping for several weeks, the Avengers finally return to base to take rest and you resist the urge to throw yourself on the neck of the man in a starry blue suit who is chatting for the moment with the famous Tony Stark. He has managed to drag the whole little troop to a shawarma restaurant and he is very proud of it. After giving the billionaire a friendly pat on the shoulder, Steve manages to slip away, promising to taste, next time, this dish stuffed with onions which he could not touch because of a nasty blow to the jaw. The poor man is exhausted from having fought for so long and if the sun, contrary to legend, does little to affect his vampiric nature, he does not like to stay in broad daylight for so long. It is therefore with joy that he finds the dark corridors of SHIELD and smiles sincerely when he sees you.

- Not bad for a start, Captain.

You can't help but tease him, enjoying seeing an amused glow light up the blue eyes of the nonagenarian. Even if you will not admit it in front of witnesses, this day was rich in strong emotions and not only when you came to the aid of the injured but also, and above all, because you only had one fear: to see the young man tragically dying in battle. Once out of sight, you do not hesitate to let out a sigh of relief, leaning against the wall receiving the backlash from all this accumulated anguish.

- It was fuc…so scary...

You who imagined keeping your calm in front of him, you feel your legs swaying, as if you had only just realized how lucky you were. It must be said that you were far from being prepared for a threat of this magnitude, an unimportant little agent that you are. Seeing your trouble, Steve reaches out with a shy hand to support you, holding you by the arm in case you want to fall. - We have succeeded, Loki will be judged on his planet, New York will rise again. You can catch your breath.

- I hope you're right ...

You straighten up, a little calmer, and raise a hand to spread a lock of hair in front of your eyes, by reflex. When he sees your palms dirty, your friend is worried but you reassure him with a gesture.

- It's not mine, I just healed a lot of wounds today. I'm going to go clean up.

The advantage of SHIELD is that they kept the old water fountains in the corridors as if we had never left the 80s. So you only have a few steps to be able to rinse your hands, conscientiously rubbing your palms to remove the brown plates. Maybe it's the sight of the water turning pink or the tiredness accumulated but Steve feels the hunger start to burn his throat like a fire and he tenses up behind you. Isolated in concrete basements, it is not certain that someone will pass by there for several hours and if the young man acts quickly, you will not even have time to shout before losing consciousness while he will drink.

- Casually, seeing you fight like that, it made me want to do something. - What?

Captain America shakes his head, chasing away the terrifying thoughts that had started to plague his reason, shocked by his own darkness. How could he have considered hurting you, especially you who are always so nice, so warm ?! Tetanized by shock and a devouring thirst, Steve does not make a gesture when you approach him, sliding your hand into his before standing on tiptoe to reach his lips, depositing a kiss of which you have been dreaming for a long time (maybe even before they thaw him, we all have a historic crush ...). The gesture is so surprising, so sweet, that the young man feels his vampiric impulses fade as the wind would chase a dark cloud from the sun. Without thinking, he hugs you with one hand and gives you your kiss. How long has it been since he tasted a woman's lips? Since Peggy, probably. You’re far from being the same, you don’t even have anything common, but it’s just as intense.

Too fast for your liking, you move away from each other and you touch the bruise that already marks the chiseled jaw of the hero before you step back, pink with pleasure and excitement.

- We will have to treat that... Rest, soldier.

Your face lights up with a big smile and you slip away like a teenager, displaying surprising joy for a SHIELD agent. Left alone, Steve still analyzes what has just happened, the reddened cheeks bringing out his surprised pupils. One thing is certain, he loved this kiss from start to finish, so much that you made him forget his thirst for blood…

Chapter 5.

The detachment sent by Fury to Sokovia has only time to deploy as the robots begin to attack from all sides, not hesitating to target the buildings to make them collapse on the fleeing crowd. While evacuating entire families, you have to shoot androids like video game characters and you are not alone in finding this surreal. However, you have had time to prepare for the past three years, as your intensive training has made you much more effective on the field. As a gas cylinder explodes a few meters away, carrying half a dozen Ultrons, a colleague takes the time to joke.

- When it’s all over, Thor should invite me to dinner. - In that case, do you think Wanda Maximoff will be free for a coffee? I don't know yet if I want her or want to be her.

You laugh at your own remark before dodging a projectile, refocusing on your task to help everyone go to safety. The terrified screams mingle with the explosions and the rumbling of the buildings which are falling apart but you are not afraid, you do not have time to be afraid. You run through the streets, adrenaline pumping through your veins and making you more confident. A robot appears between you and a couple who remains paralyzed by fear, the two men taking each other's instinctively by the hand when they see their last hour arrived. Without waiting, you draw your weapon, aim the metal head where there is a chance of finding a weakness. Your bullet penetrates the metal without succeeding in destroying the attacker but it has the merit of attracting his attention.

- Run!

You are ordering civilians without trying to find out if they will understand, relying on their survival instinct to take off as quickly as they can. The android rushes towards you by launching a projectile that you avoid justice, the impact tearing off a section of wall that falls to dust. By reflex, you strike where you can to unbalance the machine, shooting without having time to aim. An iron fist closes on your wrist and twists it to make you drop your weapon, two expressionless eyes darting on you a blue gleam. Taking advantage of being lifted by the android, you band your muscles and throw your legs into the robotic chest, hoping to make him let go. You succeed and your opponent impaled on a metal rod protruding from the wall before dying out. No time for a well-felt response to the dangers of tetanus, you catch your breath and pick up your gun. A deafening roar suddenly sounds, filling the whole space, louder and longer than a thunderclap. In your headset, the officers panic, shouting that the ground is cracking under their feet, the city splitting in half like a cookie. You can feel the vibrations, see the buildings lose their height and your confidence falters slightly. How to save a city that is falling apart?

- I'm going to do my best ... I have to.

With this decision, you return to combat, hoping that SHIELD will quickly send something to evacuate the civilians. As for the heroes who are currently fighting the origin of this chaos, you can only pray that they come out victorious and all alive. You refuse to worry about them and for one in particular, it would only slow you down. But that doesn't stop you from threatening in the wind, without fear of being rebuked for your language.

- Steve, if you die, I summon your ghost and kick your ass.

He is busy on his side, issuing orders, hitting enemies with his shield, working as a team with Agent Romanoff when their paths cross. His superhuman strength is very useful in destroying robots, but he can do nothing if the city crashes. It is out of the question that Ultron causes more losses, the hero will prevent it by all means. Like you, he is determined to do everything, until he has no breath of life. Between two attacks, he thinks of you, your smile, your jokes, the feeling of your body under his. If he survives, he'll admit certain things to you, you've been waiting too long and you've offered him so much ... he has to be honest. But for that, it is still necessary to stop the demonic puppet created by Stark.

Nick Fury's rescue vessels arrive, deploying all around town to collect civilians and transport them to safety. When you learn this, you breathe a sigh of relief even though there is still a lot of work to be done. Around you, the world is nothing but metallic ruins and wrecks as the ground continues to shake. Robots fly over your head, shooting everywhere at once, increasing panic. Officers disperse to guide the crowd toward the rafts, their orders hardly covering the hubbub. You run everywhere, supporting the wounded, redirecting groups to keep them safe. Many people have been knocked down and trampled on in panic, they must be helped by trying to remain calm despite the calls, the terrified screams, the explosions.

- Помощь!

A child drums against the window of a car, coughing and crying at the same time begging you to come to his rescue. On the driver's seat, the one who must be his mother is unconscious, her forehead bloody. You rush and try to open the door but it is pushed in, the twisted metal preventing any opening. Not speaking Russian, you put your hand on the glass to reassure the little boy before telling him to step back as far as possible with gestures that you hope are simple but clear. It takes a little while for the child to obey, but when you shatter the window, he has the reflex to protect himself with his arms. You slide into the passenger compartment to take the little guy against you, whispering comforting words while trying to keep a soft and calm tone even if you see the smoke starting to escape from the car. You are running out of time, you cannot save the mother and if you delay too long, the three of you will die. Despite the child's screams, you start running towards the lifeboats, telling yourself that there is nothing more you can do, that you are saving a life.

The breath of the explosion hurls you forward and you hit the pavement covered in debris as you roll with the little boy hugged, absorbing the shocks. Stunned, you try to get up but something lifts you off the ground and takes you away immediately, so fast that you barely have time to realize what is happening before being placed in the midst of the survivors with your precious load. A young man with white hair gives the mother of the child to whom he can provide care, taking the opportunity to catch his breath. You get up with a painful, relieved grin.

- Thank you, Mr. Maximoff. - Pietro. Or Quicksilver, if you get me a drink.

He winks at you and starts off in a flash, disappearing as quickly as he came. You decide to do the same, you don't have much time left to evacuate the population, the city is already way too high in the sky. Ignoring your limbs screaming in pain, you leave the ship by drawing on your last reserves. A real hero fights till the end.

***

Sokovia collapsed in a rain of stones and dust but its inhabitants are unharmed, taken in by SHIELD for time to be treated and placed in a safe place. As the debris continues to fall into the sea, Steve Rogers circles the heliporter to reassure civilians, taking the time to offer comforting words to those in need. But seemingly, his blue eyes are looking for a particular shape, and he feels divided between anxiety and relief by not noticing you. Although, he soon smells a familiar but oh so terrifying smell: that of your blood. Hidden out of sight like a dying animal, you are seated against a wall, your hand pressed against your black, sticky side.

- Y/N! - Hush... there are some who rest here ...

You stick out your tongue, happy to see him even in these circumstances. Seeing his gaze slid towards your wound, you shrug with detachment.

- There are already far too many injured people to be treated, I am not a priority.

The young man cannot blame you, he would have exactly the same reaction if he was injured. And if he were mortal too. Suppressing his urge to give you a sermon, he kneels down to be at your height, running a hand over your livid, already frozen brow.

- What happened ? - Oh you know, you walk in the street, you come across a robot, you fight, you are injured. Routine…

You’re proud that you’ve managed to get the words out in a coherent order, your mouth becoming mushy and your ideas muddled by draining your blood. You vaguely wonder if you could touch your guts by slipping your fingers into the wound, but it's an idea far too twisted to express it out loud. Instead, you smile at your lover, hoping that his presence will warm you as usual.

- Mission accomplished, Captain ...

It would have sounded like a good sentence before dying tragically but you still have a little strength, a little time maybe. Because you know it is no longer useful, you release your arm, dropping your hand without trying to compress your injury. You look at the hero's tight jaw, his mouth on which you have placed so many kisses, his eyes that fill with tears. Even like that, he's sexy, almost annoying. For now, you can read in his eyes how desperate he is but also the internal conflict that eats away at him. The young man loves you deeply and he has a way to save you and keep you with him forever but the price is too high. He cannot inflict this on you who knows nothing.

- Y/N… I'm sorry… - Do it, Steve.

You look him straight in the eye, very serious, while tilting your head to keep his hand on your cheek, taking advantage of this contact as long as it lasts. Your reply surprises the hero who widens his eyes without understanding. Poor little man so innocent, you really have to put the dots on the "i".

- Transform me, honey, you have my permission.

If he could hurry a little, it would work out, but Steve is too shocked to react, opening his mouth several times before stammering.

- You knew ?! - Of course... but that doesn't change anything for me.

You smile, obviously you knew, you read his files and then you have been around him long enough to be aware of certain things. Nick Fury is also aware and it even makes sense. He’s the head of SHIELD, he wasn’t going to welcome the first guy with a flashy costume on the pretext that he would have saved the world. Your body no longer supports you and you slide on the ground as a black fog fills your head, obscuring your vision, vaguely feeling the blood soaking your clothes.

- Shit ... I put blood everywhere ...

You pass out before Steve can blame you for your language, your last words being neither grand nor elegant. You become a pale and bloody rag doll in the arms of Captain America, this man who has already lost so much. He whispers your name by caressing your icy skin, half cradling you without succeeding in driving your request from his mind. He can save you, he has the power but he refuses, it would not be fair to inflict such a life on you, made of blood and insatiable appetite.

No ... what is not fair is that he is still forced to sacrifice his happiness, that yet another person dies before his eyes. Erskine, Bucky, Peggy, he has given up on so many loved ones over time... It is not fair, he has done nothing to deserve so much pain. A rebellious anger swells the heart of the hero who furiously wipes the tears on his cheeks while looking at you. He always obeyed orders, did what he thought was right. This time he will act neither for America nor for a noble cause but for you, for him. At least you, he'll keep you by his side, he can protect you.

- I love you, Y/N.

Determined, Steve takes whatever he can to cut his throat, resting your mouth on the wound hoping that you still have enough life to taste his blood. The ferrous liquid falls on your lips and into your throat while the young man bites in your wrist as gently as possible, simply piercing the skin to collect a few scarlet drops. Let's just hope that the serum will change your metabolism as it upset Rogers' metabolism years ago. But it is too late for scientific considerations or logic.

***

- ... and it was because he was covered with the blood of his enemies that he was nicknamed "Red Skull"? - Yes, a very morbid nickname but which he wore wonderfully.

Sitting on your bed, Steve looks at you with tenderness as you ask him a multitude of questions, lying on the mattress and completely recovered from your injuries. Tirelessly, you pass and pass your arm in a ray of light, surprised not to fall to dust. You have to believe that legends are wrong about vampires, they don't really fear the sun.

- I haven't changed physically, I can go out in broad daylight ... It's easy to be a vampire, I don't see why you make a big deal of it! - It seems that you are a good woman, Y/N.

If it had not been the case, you would have become a bloodthirsty creature like Schmidt or, in the best of cases, you would have died and you would have been buried like any SHIELD agent who died during his service. Fortunately, everything is now arranged and you can lure the famous Captain America against you to kiss him with passion. After all, you have all of eternity before you.

Hope you liked it, don’t hesitate to send a nice comment. Take care, stay safe, you are wonderful

#Captain America #vampire #love #fic

1 note · View note

cleverbroadwayurl · 5 years

Text

It Only Takes a Taste (Jeremy Heere x Reader Pt. 22)

Song: It Only Takes a Taste from Waitress

Word Count: 6316

Need to Catch Up? The links are weird on this site! Check my masterlist!

A/N: Oh my god I’m not sure how I did it, but I promised it and here it is! I know that there’s been a lack of content lately, and I’m trying to fix that while making a living for myself and wow it’s getting to be a lot! But I will keep working at it and trying because I know when writing gets posted, others are more inclined to create as well! So here’s part 22!! Credit to: MJ!!

Taglist: @retrogarden @be-more-heidi-hansen @scarsonthecuffsofyourjeans @bluhimaweirdo @catatonic-kuragin @stargirl-murphy @dee-writes-fics @macbookpro-hard-drive (I thought I’d tag u bc this fic was literally like your idea)

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of an abusive ex-boyfriend, mentions of intimacy. mentions of fear of intimacy, implied trauma, mentions of trauma, self-depreciation, mentions of the SQUIP, mentions of The Play, mentions of previous fic parts, IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW

Jeremy nods, and stutters out a quick “okay” before you practically vanish before his eyes. Everything and everyone around him was almost static, as if you hadn’t been there at all. But the tingly feeling in Jeremy’s heart and hands said different. It was something different within him. It was the first time he’d left and had some kind of security when thinking about you. Everything almost worked out, was almost perfect, and it was like….god he didn’t even know. You trusted him. You were okay. And in a solid night, he had gotten everything he’d wished so hard for—and he wouldn’t trade that for the entire world.

The Heere household hadn’t been so clean in years. Jeremy’s mom was the last person to really get it sparkling, until this very second, in which Jeremy was counting plates, blankets, amount of food, sodas, waters, amongst other things that had been perfectly laid about for an arrival that had been planned days in advance. Of course, you’d seen the Heere household in its usual somewhat cluttered glory before, but this was different, this was new, this was planned.

But it wasn’t a date…or was it? Jeremy stood for a second and stared at an old painting that had been there as long as he could remember. Was this a date? It was a planned interaction between the two of you, you coming over in what, 20 minutes or so? And yet, there was that same lingering feeling in the air, like you were still off limits like this was just the typical friend thing that he and Michael did. You were just coming over to play games…but then again, that could be counted as a date. He’d heard of other people doing that, but he also heard that there was sometimes no romance to it. Of course, he had Google searched it because his gut was just as unsure as to the logic. He knew that you wanted to be there. You’d texted him first, he brought up the idea of game night, you liked it, said you’d come over in a few days, now minutes, and he was still confused about the entire event. But, instead of pushing romance onto you, Jeremy made a definitive decision that this was a friend date. Yeah, just a friend thing. The last thing Jeremy would ever want to do was make you feel pressured into something you weren’t ready for. He assumed you’d seen that so many times before, and he wanted to be a source of comfort, a source of happiness. He just wanted to make you safe.

The ring of the doorbell catches him off guard, and he runs to answer it, the small window not being completely transparent to display who was really out there. He really hoped it was you and not a religious group asking if he had thought about Christianity that day. With a flick of the lock, and a twist of his wrist, the door was opened, and there you stood, almost basking in the light radiating from the house.

You’d mentioned you would be wearing something comfortable because it wasn’t worth it to play games in jeans—Jeremy agreed, of course, meaning he was in his own sweatpants and t-shirt—but even though you stood in pretty much the same attire, Jeremy couldn’t help but feel underdressed. For the first time ever, you stood on Jeremy’s doorstep, a genuine smile on your face, shoulders tall, and no fear emitted from you. It was the first time Jeremy had seen you healthy in front of him, your cheeks a normal color and your eyes as bright as Jeremy could ever only imagine them. Seeing them in real life felt like a fantasy of some kind. Nervousness creeps its way into your features and Jeremy suddenly realizes he’s been staring at you for like two minutes straight, oh my god, he has to say something otherwise it’ll get more awkward.

But why were you nervous? You should not be the one who’s nervous. You were a good person, even though Jeremy had seen the slander that had happened against you on social media less than recently. But you knew Jeremy, and Jeremy knew you. Meaning all of that stuff that was said Jeremy knew was only conjecture. He knew that it was lies and attempts to get people onto your ex-boyfriend’s side. Some believed him, Jeremy was sure, but your reputation only got stronger with Jeremy. He saw it as you being so successful while the things you left behind put up a fight before dying. It was a triumph. Your nerves became more and more apparent, and Jeremy began to mirror that, his own hands beginning to sweat because oh my god he definitely didn’t say anything like he was supposed to.

“Sorry I’m late, I had to change after work, and they kept me late so uhh…” you began hands fidgeting with the edge of your sweatshirt. Your eyes darted downwards, and Jeremy resented himself for making you revert to old habits.

“Oh! It’s fine, actually, uhh the food was uhh late and it’s totally okay,” Jeremy rushed out.

You giggle at him as he opens the door and lets you inside. He knows you’ve seen his house before, but you still stop to take it all in. It’s different. It’s new for both of you, but good. There’s something in the air as Jeremy stares; your eyes following the structure of his living room before they finally land back on him. He blushes and turns his eyes towards the ground, cheeks and ears getting hot. Jeremy can feel every little droplet of sweat…god it feels like he’s going through middle school again, a smile on your adorable face as he does so. He fidgets with the hem of his shirt before he asks if you just want to head down into the basement. You smile and nod, heading towards the door and down the stairs as Jeremy grabs a pizza and some water. Jeremy can feel the smile on his face grow as he carefully steps down the stairs and into the already-lit basement.

Jeremy sets the pizza down in front of the TV and beanbags, far enough away where both of you have leg room, but not so far that the pizza is unreachable. You sit on one end of the room, while Jeremy sits on the other; beanbags having so much space between them, Michael could probably take a nap in the space. But it feels right. For some reason, space seems to be a requirement before continuing with the night. There’s no pressure to touch, there’s no pressure of accidents, and for some reason, it feels like a decision that needed to be made, and was, mutually.

Eyeing up his own game collection, Jeremy turns to you, realizing that you’d been watching him, almost as he’d been watching you. “What did you want to start with?”

“It’s up to you” comes your response, corners of your mouth turning upwards. Jeremy can feel his heart beating faster at that, along with the fact that you were admiring—no—observing him from a distance. Your eyes glistened in the dimmed lights, almost brighter than any afternoon summer sun. He hadn’t seen that ever, even when he’d first started noticing you. It had always been slightly dimmer. But this? This freedom, this happiness? Was something Jeremy was so glad he had the opportunity to witness in his—friend.

It’s only now that Jeremy realizes that you had just cast the decision of what to do onto him. His mind raced with options, none of them being worthy of your time, especially since you hadn’t shown a preference and you were the guest, so this would be a tough choice. He wanted something fair, something that both of you could get into, even if that meant he would have to sacrifice winning. Maybe winning wasn’t important with you around. Jeremy decided that as long as you two were comfortable and having fun, anything would be fine. That’s probably why you put the decision onto his shoulders. Jeremy could recall you mentioning something about Mario Kart before, and he thought that was a safe choice, even though he wasn’t the best at it, to say the least. Michael would drag that into a melodrama about just how terrible Jeremy was at Mario Kart, but it was something that was current common ground between you and the nervous boy. He moves slowly, almost like the rules that had been distinguished in that basement so many months ago were still significant. He finds the cartridge and puts it into his switch before turning on the system. He takes a glance backward, almost checking to see if everything is okay with you, and he watches as you observe the screen, biting your lip as you do so. It isn’t a soft biting of the lip, it’s almost like you’re nervous, like that’s a way to take the stress out of the situation. Maybe the rules were still significant. You two were alone in the house, basement door closed with heavy and steep stairs leading to an exit. Maybe that was scary. Maybe that was nerve-wracking.

But instead of dwelling on trying to decide what would ease you, it was almost like he knew that actions would soothe that more than anything. He grabs the attachments for the joycons, allowing both of you to play instead of just one player. He held out them in front of you, blue and red controllers both set up for playing. The title music played softly as he wordlessly smiled and gestured to pick whichever one you wanted. And that was a true no preference choice he’d laid out in front of you. Left or right, red or blue, Jeremy didn’t care as long as you were comfortable. The weight of the choice brings your face down, the glisten in your eyes dims, and your hand gently grabs the red one as Jeremy’s other hand grasps the blue one. Your expression doesn’t change as you gingerly hold the joycon and get your hands in place for playing. Your nerves hit Jeremy hard, but he was glad you managed to choose the one controller you wanted.

Jeremy had ended up with the blue one, the left-handed one, but he didn’t mind. You were sitting, observing the controller before he hit start. And finally, things started to ease within the room.

With a few quick button presses, the multiplayer menu is displayed, more choices set in front of both of you. He looks at you again, seeing which one looks like the best option. But your eyes are almost stuck on the cursor on the screen. It’s almost like you’re scared of what is going to be picked. He brushes the thought aside and gives you a choice once again. His own preferences for what he wants to do are out of the door. Even as just friends, Jeremy’s priority is providing a comfortable place to just relax for a second. That’s how he and Michael had managed to become friends without filters. Michael wanted to battle in Mario Kart?? He’d say it, loudly, and usually compromising with later rounds. Jeremy was able to do the same, friendly arguments are healthy. They make sense. You’re allowed to disagree with the people around you. But then again, maybe you weren’t scared of the choice, but rather really wanted to do a particular type. Just to be sure, he somehow verbalized his concerns: “Is there a type you wanted to do? Grand Prix? Just races? Or Battle?”

“Any of them is fine with me,” your smile almost seems forced, like something is keeping you on edge. The very last thing Jeremy wants to do is make you uncomfortable, but this seems like it’s something bigger than him.

“Okay. I know I’m still working through 100cc, so did you just want to help me out with that?” Jeremy asks, hands becoming sweatier as he asks.

“Sure!” You smile at him again, more genuinely this time. He can see the ease drip into your posture, You bat your eyes towards the ground, before gripping your controller.

He selects Grand Prix before looking to you once again as your eyes concentrate on each cup like they were an intensely written sensation novel instead of just simple “Fun English” chosen by game writers. “Is there a cup you like that I haven’t completed?”

“Uhh kinda weird and retro, but Shell cup,” you say, eyeing up the courses, light coming back in as you do so.

“Shell cup it is.”

As the cup begins, your smile gets wide and you ease into the bean bag a little further. Your hands grip the controller as you get ready to race. It doesn’t even take a look for Jeremy to realize that you’ve relaxed, and he does the same. It’s a friendly game, both of you not worried about winning or losing in the present moment, just having some fun as friends. As the course is showcased on the screen, you two share a smile, followed by a chuckle, and the race beginning.

“I love Moo Moo Meadows,” you blurt out, red grazing your cheeks, like it was a fact that was embarrassing.

“Oh no way, me too!”

And that was the truth. He almost always saved Shell Cup for the last because of Moo Moo Meadows. One lap goes by, and then another. It feels too fast, like the Game Theory episode suggests. Racers, according to the episode, go anywhere from 120-200 miles per hour, just like Jeremy’s heart at this moment. He glances at your face as you steal the lead, your concentration just as heartwarmingly adorable as it had been in senior government. But this had more heart, more passion, it felt like something more beautiful and purely stemmed from something good rather than a dumb group activity. He notices your body tilted with the kart as your character on screen turns and drifts, the sparks around the tires turning from orange to blue. Your thumb flicks and the kart straightens out, giving yourself such a lead that Jeremy swears he’s never witnessed, even when playing with Michael.

His eyes turn back to the screen, and he’s doing somewhat well. Except not really, since his character is in 10th and bound to hit a wall at some point. You’re onto lap 3, and Jeremy is a little over halfway through with lap 2, but it doesn’t matter. He’s just happy that you’re having fun and helping him get that cool trophy, even though for his favorite track, he was doing rather terribly. He glances again at your screen, and you’re still in first with an even better lead, and he’s sure that not even a blue shell could make you place second. Jeremy makes a note to not look at your screen anymore, that it’s causing him to lose places every time he does it. He speeds up, and finally finishes 4th, which isn’t too bad for his favorite track and for messing up so badly halfway through.

The cup flies by faster than Moo Moo Meadows ever did, but Jeremy’s heart kept the pace. The scores are predictable, you did mention that you were rather good at Mario Kart. You’re in first while Jeremy’s keeping fifth. But for the first time ever, he doesn’t care. Frustration doesn’t come with fifth, it’s rather warmth and grace. There isn’t taunting like there usually is with Michael, instead, he gets you stating “keeping a place like fifth is so difficult, I’m impressed. First is easy once you get there.”

As soon as the cup finishes and the final scores are displayed, you earning a three-star ranking, a sticker, and a perfect first, Jeremy still keeps his average at fifth. He usually gets fifth or sixth. First or fourth, maybe, on a good day. But instead of saying something sweet or even a “good game”, your face pales, eyes stuck once again on the screen. Your elbows are practically digging into your body, hands gripping the controller so hard that he can practically see your knuckles turning blue. There was something so familiar about this behavior, the way your shoulders shot up in discomfort, the way your razor sharp focus was unforgiving and isolating, and the way you held everything you had.

“Wow,” Jeremy said, breaking the silence, and hopefully the tension that kept itself locked in your body, “you’re really good at Mario Kart.” You just nodded in response, nothing else moving but the slight movement.

Jeremy’s mind raced faster than it had in a long time. Did he do something wrong? What happened? In that short amount of time, his mind tried to recall every little thing he’d said, every movement, every detail that had been placed in front of him, no matter how small. Did he accidentally move closer to you? Did you catch him staring like a creep? He didn’t remember accidentally bumping into you or touching you without consent in any way, shape, or form, besides maybe brushing hands when you’d grabbed the controller from his hand. But that was before the Moo Moo Meadows conversation when you’d seemed to relax so much. And if he had accidentally brushed you or something, he’d immediately apologize for that. He couldn’t remember anything that had happened over the course of the four races. But then again, your perceptions were different than his. His mind might forget something but yours might keep it locked away forever. And leaving it silent was worse than just asking, apologizing, and getting it resolved, rather than keeping it in the open air, where it could really hurt you.

“I’m sorry if I uhh, made you uncomfortable or anything.” Your eyes met his and he swore they pierced his soul. “That wasn’t my intention, if I did.”

“What?” you asked, confusion now flooding into your face. After a breath, you started again: “Jeremy, you didn’t make me uncomfortable. I just uhh, I guess I like forgot something while we were playing. Just remembered it now. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Jeremy paused, unsure of what you were referencing. He was near positive it wasn’t a good memory. Something told him to speak up again, just to say something to fill the silence that surrounded the room. “Is there anything I can—”

“N-No, it’s fine. Do you want to race again, or maybe do something else? It’s up to you,” your eyes lost his and refocused on something else.

It was now that Jeremy realized that you didn’t move. You hadn’t moved. Usually, there was some shifting for comfort while playing a game and relaxing. But it had been several minutes, and there was no movement from you. It was like your body was a statue, rusted to the bean bag, unable to be moved. Something was very wrong. But if you didn’t want to discuss it right now, or frankly, ever, that was okay. And Jeremy accepted that.

He decided that maybe Mario Kart wasn’t the best idea, especially since he was so bad at it. And if him losing every race seem to only make the tension in the room swell, maybe it was good to just let the game go and choose something else; for both of your sakes. Of course, when it came to picking games that were fair for both of you, meaning probably no first-person shooters from middle school or anything, he decided to choose the great equalizer of all party games. Although it was a bad idea to pull it out, Jeremy thought that the best thing to do was switch over to a less popular part of one of the Nintendo franchises: Mario Party.

Of course, Friendship Ruiner 8000, as Michael liked to call it, included motion controls, which Jeremy was again, not good at. But he figured their janky-ness would even out the skill sets and make it more of a fair fight, even though Jeremy was sure he would be too caught up in you to actually play the game to his best ability. But trying was worth it. You were worth it.

“Do you want to maybe play Mario Party 8? It’s the only Mario Party I have, but I figure that the motion controls are so bad, it would be fun to just kinda laugh at,” Jeremy asked, his eyes flicking towards you. He was telling the truth about the motion controls. Yes, sometimes the controllers stop registering movement. It’s just frustrating for games like Skyward Sword but infinitely funny for games like Mario Party 8 or Wii Sports.

At last, your entire body shifted, like your soul was coming back into view, like everything had just been worked out, no strings attached. “Jeremy,” you started, a smile forming on your lips, “you trust me enough to be friends with me at the end of a Mario Party game?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow,” you stopped for a second before a full smile broke out on your face, even though discomfort still seemed to be at the forefront. A red crept into your face as you continued with your thought: “you must really think I’m a good person or something.”

“Well yeah,” Jeremy blushed in return before he rushed to change the game and console.

“Now it’s been a little bit since I’ve played Mario Party 8, so I’m warning you now, 2v2 games are going to be rough with me,” you said, hands pulling your sleeves down a little bit.

“That’s fine,” he reassured, “motion controls are weird anyway.”

You gave a chuckle as you continued sitting, getting more comfortable within the bean bag chair. “True.”

The game quickly started and both of you were met with less than ideal graphics—when did the Wii get such a pixelated screen?—and the odd mascot appeared before the two of you. His weird laugh came through the speakers, and more choices appeared on every screen. But suddenly, choices became easy. The type was of course 4 player, two being you, two being computers, 15 turns—to make it interesting, and any course except the city one that’s somehow a ripped off version of Monopoly. Finally, the character selection screen appeared, and Jeremy waited for you to pick your favorite original Mario character, just so he wouldn’t take something that would be claimed as rightfully yours, for the game, at least. Once you were done selecting, Jeremy picked his favorite franchise character, one that is overlooked by many people, specifically men. Jeremy Heere chose Princess Peach.

“Peach?” you asked, eyeing him.

Jeremy’s skin went aflame, he could feel the familiar tingling from his toes to his ears. His mind raced for justification, a quick answer, a solution, for why he chose Princess Peach. But you surprisingly beat him to it.

“She’s cool, Jeremy, I’m just surprised. Maybe I should’ve picked Mario or something.”

At the small comment and remark of romantic tension that was still lingering in the room, Jeremy turned every little bit redder and he swore that his heart skipped a beat. Was that you…flirting? With him? Jeremy had never seen that before, especially from you, and especially since you’d been strictly off-limits for so long. Maybe it was playful. It was a joke. It was something that he shouldn’t dwell on. You probably weren’t dwelling on it.

Somehow, the next few decisions happen, and Jeremy is able to form coherent enough sentences to vouch for the computers to be on Hard Mode, just to even the playing field between skill levels.

The game starts immediately, both computers pulling ahead and already placing traps on spaces that are supposed to be +3 coins. Both computers get an added 3 coins, for landing on the space, and both you and Jeremy make fun of the randomized way that both AI are playing the game.

The beginning of the game quickly switches to halfway through, and by now you’ve moved closer to Jeremy, bumping each other periodically, so far behind the computers it’s almost laughable. Each minigame is spent in a fit of laughter as both of you are clearly doing what the instructions are telling you to do, but the motion controls aren’t picking it up. It’s sweet, fun, and most importantly, relaxed. The now somewhat-cold-pizza is starting to be eaten, neither of you cares about how it tastes, but rather, what the moment means.

When the game finishes, Jeremy maintains a steady third, with you in second thanks to the bonus stars that are given out after the game is finished. Although both of you felt that you really didn’t do anything special, it was almost like the game took pity on you, and chose to give both of the actual players some bonus stars.

But between the two of you, the places don’t matter. It was fun to just play an interesting game with one another, despite the casual reputation it has among other groups. Each turn out of the 15 was exciting, fun, and laughable, considering how bad you two were doing. Instead of being put against each other, the two of you had an alliance; a method of teambuilding that couldn’t be fabricated by anyone. This was something special, and there was almost a bond formed that game, something that wouldn’t be easily forgotten or erased. And the room now had comfort practically written on the walls. Of course, it was a comfort with each other. The physical, more touchy, comfort wasn’t present in the room. There was still space between you two, and something still felt right about that. Maybe it was Jeremy’s mind consistently telling him to lay off on certain kinds of affection, especially since you two probably weren’t dating, and to keep his space.

The pizza was nearly gone, a final slice just sitting in the box, neither one wanting to touch it. The excitement of the game before had exited, and leaving in its place easy silence and exhaustion. It was late, and while Jeremy definitely wanted you to stay at his house for as long as you could, it was your choice to leave. He might be bummed out for a few seconds, but then would be honestly grateful for the time he got to spend with you, which was worth much more than feeling sorry for himself in his basement like usual. So he decided to leave an ambiguous question out of the equation of the night and instead decided on suggesting to watch a movie. It wouldn’t take much effort, and leaving halfway through would never be a crime, especially since Jeremy was not the person who wanted to take away that freedom. “Hey, do you maybe want to watch a movie? If you have to go, that’s fine too, but I thought I’d ask, like, just in case you didn’t or something.”

“Sure, Jeremy. That sounds nice after Toad totally kicking our asses.”

Jeremy let out a small chuckle before he flipped off the Wii and changed to the PS4. After cycling through the apps on the menu, he found Netflix and booted it up, the classic Netflix noise making its way into the basement. You sat back on the beanbag as the noise rang out, taking a more relaxed posture than you had the entire night. Although you seemed to be a little more at peace, Jeremy’s mind kept crawling back to the same thought: what even was tonight? The Mario and Peach comment made it seem like a date, but you two had never dated or established dating before, and the beginning of the night seemed only friendly. But now it felt so…date like. And of course, it wouldn’t be any date, no, this was the first date. First dates were uncomfortable, awkward, and kind of hard to swallow. They made even the most confident people cringe. They almost take the appearance of an interview for the rest of the relationship. And Jeremy didn’t want that. He’d rather keep the feeling in the room going and choosing something that wouldn’t make either of you uncomfortable. So he had to narrow his search: nothing with a sex scene or domestic violence of any kind. It would be too hard on you, he assumed, and it would crush him to make you upset on your possibly first date.

“First date?” you inquired, eyes scanning him.

Jeremy jumps up and nearly throws the controller, not realizing that his thoughts had been muttered aloud to the person sitting next to him. “Y-Yeah, because I thought well, the Mario and Peach comment, and I—”

“Jeremy,” you chuckle, smile breaking through and remaining. You finally make eye contact with him and Jeremy can feel the fear creeping up into his features. Wrong move, dumbass. “This isn’t our first date—” shit shit SHIT “—It’s like our fourth.”

For a second the world stops turning and Jeremy can feel his brain reeling back. How the heck was this a fourth date? Those other times he’d spent with you weren’t dates, were they? What counted, what didn’t count, what was in between? How did he miss something as big as this??? He didn’t really want to imply romance, even back in the moments, but this still felt like—

“Our first date I think I count as the time I came over here, even though that was a pretty bad circumstance. Our second was making breakfast, which again, bad circumstance, but still kind of a date. Our third was like four days ago, which, dancing together seems pretty romantically inclined, you know?”

Jeremy can only nod. He does know. He just didn’t think you had wanted—and still wanted—to date him. He’s been overthinking every interaction for over a year, each moment, each sleight of hand, everything that had happened before this very second. But for some reason, you explaining it like this, everything felt like it locked into place. The pieces are there, he just needed reassurance to fit them together.

“Therefore, fourth date,” you gesture around you, and Jeremy suddenly realizes that this was a date. The games, the lighting, the way you made jokes, the discomfort that had now morphed into comfortable bliss, it all felt like a date to him, and he had just wanted to respect your space.

“If that’s okay with you, of course,” you mentioned, hands quickly playing with your sleeves again, eyes darting downwards as if you’d done something wrong and made a terrible mistake. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, and I wasn’t going to if you weren’t thinking it but like you just said—”

“No, I agree with you. Completely. I’m just surprised I didn’t like…come up with it sooner.”

A small smile reappears on your face. “You’re valid, Jeremy.”

Instead of a movie, both of you settle on a light TV show, not really getting into the plot, but rather just relaxing in the dim light of the basement. With no one around, it feels like a lost peace that was recently found, like it was a treasure that couldn’t be seen by anyone else. The first episode ends quickly, another one just starting to play as the silence continues. There’s no awkwardness, no commitment, no extra things to be wary about and nothing that needed to be said. For that first episode or so, things felt like they were supposed to feel. Warm, simple, easy.

A thought occurred to Jeremy as the silence continued: he should be closer to you. This is a date, right? Did you want to hold hands or something? Did you want to be closer, and just didn’t know how to request things? Should he just go for it? No. A quick glance at you told him no. Your eyes were on the screen, captured by the show. Your eyes didn’t even match his for a second, meaning you were comfortable where you were and didn’t want, or frankly need, anything extra. Jeremy just being there was enough. His eyes refocused back onto the screen, getting into the show once more before your voice broke the silence between you two, and the quiet murmur of the show.

“Can I talk to you about something?” you ask, hands still fidgeting as you face him.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Because like, we’ve established this like relationship thing, I just…I wasn’t open in my last relationship, which was my fault and a major mistake.”

Jeremy held his breath but didn’t say anything. How could he? He didn’t know about what happened behind closed doors, wasn’t sure about the things that were said to you. In his mind, you didn’t get the chance to express your feelings or be open. You didn’t have the opportunity to have a good relationship, except maybe in the first little bit. But what did he know besides what you told him? How could even attempt to argue with you on something he legitimately knew nothing about? He wasn’t. At last, Jeremy nods, almost asking you to continue your thought.

“I, uhh, god where do I even start with this?” you breathe deeply before continuing, the breath shaky and uneven. “Jeremy, I can’t…do things yet. I can’t—I’m not—Fuck—I am so—” you took another breath—“I can’t be normal. I just…I can’t like…I have a really hard time with intimacy and romance and I just…I can’t even do simple things like hold your hand—not that you’re gross oh my god I’m so sorry that’s how it sounded—but like…my brain and body won’t let me do that for some reason. I don’t know what’s wrong, I’m so sorry, but I just…can’t be normal. I can’t fall asleep around you, I can’t hold your hand, I can’t be a good partner yet. I know you probably want to do that, and I just wanted to bring it up so you aren’t hurt or confused or something because I can’t do it. I just…I have baggage, Jeremy.”

Jeremy can hear tears starting to form, your voice thick. He knows what it means. He knows that you’re hurt, you’ve been hurt, and he knows that what your “not normal” is probably self-blame and trauma from what he could only catch glimpses of before. And while you’re here saying it’s your fault, Jeremy recognizes that it’s not yours, it could never be, but a particular someone’s, who should remain nameless.

“I know we’ve kissed before, but if we could just…hold off on that please for a little while, that would uhh, be great. And it’s a dumb thing to ask, and I’m sorry I have to ask it, and I know it’s a dumb me-thing, and—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jeremy turned towards you and paused the show as you take in a large breath and prepare for what he’s going to say. But he knows that this is something that’s hard to put into words, hard to handle. He knows this feeling, and he knows what should come after it. “It’s okay. We can wait. We can wait on everything for as long as it takes for you to feel comfortable. I understand that it’s hard, I mean, after the play junior year, I kind of had similar boundaries. But I dated someone who gave me patience. I’ve been forever grateful for that, so I want to do the same for you. You deserve that patience and to be comfortable in your own skin.”

“I—” you started, mouth open, eyes frantically blinking, “Thank you. I mean…wow, I really just…wasn’t expecting that at all.”

“You’re welcome.” Jeremy smiles and lets you have some time to take care of yourself, to calm down and really come back to reality a little bit. He offers his hand out if you want to grab it, but if not, he’s not hurt by it. He knows that sometimes you need physical space as well as emotional space, and wouldn’t be offended if you chose not to grab it.

“Can I ask you something weird?” the question drops into the room harder than a weight being dropped.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Can we like…can we just like function on consent for a little bit? Like we ask before just…touching, even if it’s something small, and can we uhh ask for consent for like kissing and stuff? It’s a weird and tiring request, I know, but…”

“Of course we can.”

“Thank you.”

Jeremy shakes his head before continuing the conversation. “You don’t need to thank me, they’re your boundaries and I want to respect them.”

A tear rolls down your cheek, and Jeremy’s eyes catch it, but doesn’t move to wipe it away. That would be cruel after what he’d just been told, and it feels like every night before is flooding back to him. Touching you before required consent. This was the same thing, the same circumstances, the same hurt. It was different, though. This was him having this conversation with you, this was the fear that he’d break them like they’d been thousands of times before. This was to prevent extra breakdowns that didn’t need to happen and to keep you safe, as much as he wanted to do that while you were in his arms. He’d rather not imprison you during the relationship. He’d rather let you roam free as the birds flying above.

“You have no idea what that means to me,” is finally whimpered out.

Neither of you touch one another, and Jeremy’s hand is discarded. You two finish another two episodes before you gather up your stuff and head up the stairs. Upon request, Jeremy doesn’t touch you. He doesn’t try. He doesn’t ask for consent, because something told him to let you have your space tonight: over text, spatially, over social media, and in any other capacity. You thank him for the night, with promises to text him the next morning, before leaving and heading out to the car that Jeremy’s dad knew too well. No kisses, no touching, but confusion about the Mario Kart incident before still unsolved. But that was another boundary he wanted you to have space on.

You had been wronged before, you’d been confused, cheated out of a life that was set for you that was supposed to be happy. Your ex-boyfriend had done wrong. Jeremy wanted to do it right.

#Jeremy Heere x reader #jeremy heere imagine #bmc x reader #bmc imagine #be more chill x reader #be more chill imagine #bmc self insert #be more chill self insert #Jeremy Heere self insert

34 notes · View notes

hit-me-with-a-ladle · 3 years

Text

Ch.10 of Creepypasta x Fem! Reader