#how do we steer a floating island?
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No Prey, No Pay (opla!zoro x you)
summary: after steering him to a successful bounty, zoro can't stop thinking about you. he decides to do something about it. (Part 2 to Parley)
wc: 1.67k
cw/tags: domestic zoro crumbs, idiots in love but they don't know how to express it, canon-typical violence, zoro is so himbo i love him
note: thank you for all the love on my first two zoro posts!!!! i'm so so so happy y'all liked them; this is one of the first times in a while i've actually been super giddy writing a character. i really hope he's not too ooc, i tried to keep his himbo-ness intact. hope you enjoy!!!
likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated <3
“Here to try killing me again?”
“Oh,” is all he can sputter out, frozen on the doorstep of the Lady’s manor. The stout, shriveled old woman before him was not who he was looking for. To make matters worse, the flower he’d picked from the hillside on his way up the driveway suddenly seemed like a gargantuan beanstock in his fingers. His face was warming but, for the life of him, he could not figure out why. “You’re not–”
“Nope. They’re in the Farmers’ Market,” she deadpans without hesitation, eyeing him with all the amusement of a PhD candidate reading a children’s book. “The Farmers’ Market I created, by the way.”
“Right,” he replies shortly, turning abruptly on his heel and letting his eyes widen in pure horror when she can’t see his face. He tosses the flower into a nearby planter, well aware that she can still see his every move. After several misguided attempts to navigate back to your isolated piece of land in the East Blue, he approached the ornately decorated door with a little more excitement than he expected. Having the Lady whom he’d tried to kill a few weeks prior be the one to open the door was another funny twist of irony that caused him an odd feeling of embarrassment, like he’d dropped you off after a date ten minutes past your curfew. “Thank you for your time.”
“Tell me, pirate hunter,” she called to his back patronizingly. “Why grace us again with your oh-so-menacing presence?”
“I’m wondering the exact same thing,” he mutters, irritated at his failed attempt to find you on the first try.
“When you find them, tell them to pick up more sweet potatoes. I thought we had enough for dinner, but we could use a few more now that you’re here,” the Lady instructs him and her words take a few seconds to register in his mind. But, by the time he’s turned around to ask her what she meant, the door is already shut and he’s too proud to knock again.
As if the mortification on your porch wasn’t enough, it’s nearly impossible to find you in the milling swarms of people in town. The people part naturally for him as he passes, sneaking anxious glances at the three swords on his hip. Whispers of his occupation and intentions float around his ears but he pays them no mind, determined to spot you. Again, he wasn’t sure what he was doing there in the first place; but, no matter what anyone else said, he did know one thing. By some unexpected turn of Fate, he missed you.
“Shopping for produce while you hunt? I didn’t know you could multitask.” The teasing lilt of your voice appears behind him and he can’t help smirking. You’d found him before he found you, even though it was his job to find people. “Word to the wise: the vendors will upcharge you because they know you’re not from the island.”
“What if you’re there with me?” When he finally turns to face you, his eyes flick to the canvas bag slung over your shoulder. It’s stuffed with fruits and vegetables, along with a jar of honey from the beekeeper just up the road from your house.
“They’ll upcharge you more and insist you pay for my stuff,” you reply nonchalantly. “Now that I think of it, maybe we should walk around together.” You brush past him and re-enter the bustling square like he was the last thing on your mind, when really he was the only thing for the past week. You’re certain he’d follow behind you and your theory is confirmed when his voice comes from over your right shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”
“You’re wearing the bracelet,” he observes, easily slipping into place next to you as if it was natural to be by your side. With the sword-clad bounty hunter next to you, it was much easier to navigate the market without bumping every resident of the island.
“Mhmm, I told you I liked it,” you say absentmindedly, stopping at a stand and picking up a vibrantly colored fruit from the stack. Observing it for bruises and finding none, you signal the seller that you’d like to buy the piece in your hand. His farm-worn hand stretches out to you and you fish around in your bag briefly for coins. But, before you can place the money in his hand, Zoro’s fingers are already dropping an unnecessarily large quantity into the shocked farmer’s palm. You gape at him and his unchangingly blank expression, shaking your head in disbelief when he glances at you, eyes shining arrogantly. “Where’d you get all that money and why did you do that?”
“Bounties,” he answers plainly, “and ‘cause I wanted to. Next stand?” You’re still slightly frozen from pure surprise, but he shrugs carefreely and tilts his head toward the rest of the vendors.
“Feel like enlightening me on why you’re here again?” It’s the fourth or fifth stand he’s accompanied you to and, at this point, you were just window-shopping. Since he joined you on your errand, you hadn’t spent any more money; before you could pay any of the sellers, they were already thanking you profusely for your generosity with a pile of shining coins in their hands. Zoro proved to be a very patient companion, respectfully giving his opinions on which piece of produce looked bigger or more appetizing. With most of the required items on your shopping list successfully in your bag, you find yourself drifting over to the stalls of mundane things like pretty flowers and colorful crystals.
“There’s a Marine defector turned intelligence smuggler hiding somewhere in the area. Thought I’d knock out two birds with one stone.” You turn over a piece of aventurine in your fingers, admiring it from different angles in the sunlight. Your breath hitches slightly when Zoro’s face dips down next to yours, watching the crystal from the same angle.
“What’s the other bird?” You glance at him from the corner of your eye.
“Visiting you,” he replies without hesitation, plucking the crystal from your fingers and tossing more coins at the vendor. You don’t stop the laugh that escapes your mouth and you swear his smirk gets more self-assured as he drops the rock into your bag. At a point when you aren’t looking, he swings your bag onto a broad shoulder as easily as if it was a piece of paper. “Also, we need sweet potatoes.” Your eyebrows raise in amusement at his slip.
“We?” You have to fight down another giggle when his face becomes slightly pinker, imperceptible if you weren’t already staring at him. “Since when were we anything?”
“Your boss said she needed more sweet potatoes. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“I wasn’t aware that you went to go see her.”
“I wasn’t either, and then she opened the door instead of you,” he admits and you chuckle at his expression of distaste. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have–get behind me.” Before he can finish his thought, his arm shoots out in front of you, effectively halting you a split second before a knife darts across your vision, embedding itself into the wooden post next to you. The surrounding market-goers break into chaotic panic and you have no choice but to press your back against Zoro’s to prevent getting swept away. Emerging from the crowd, a lethal-looking group of fighters encircle you two and your hand finds the hilt of your saber.
“Pirates?”
“No. Bounty hunters.”
“Friends of yours?” You eye the group warily as the marketplace empties, people running into the nearest building they could find to spectate the upcoming battle.
“I’d call them ‘occupational competition’ on a good day.”
“Ah, great,” you huff sarcastically. “What’d you do to piss them off?”
“Exist,” he deadpans and you hum in assent.
“Yeah, that’ll do it,” you mutter and you start to pull your blade from its sheath, anticipating the fight ahead of you.
“Don’t.” The single word halts your movements and your stomach drops in fear of what he’s sensing.
“What?”
“Let me handle this,” he says in a low tone that makes your skin break into goosebumps. “Can you hold the bag while I deal with them?”
“You sure?”
“Yep. This won’t take long,” he says irritatedly, scowling at the rival hunters that interrupted his day.
“Alright. I’m gonna go get sweet potatoes, then.”
“Third one down on the left. I’ll meet you over there,” he promises before moving faster than you can comprehend, whirling and downing the two attackers in front of you without even drawing his swords. They howl in pain when you stab your blade into their feet for good measure before leisurely making your way further down the street. As you walk, Zoro clears the path for you, mercilessly incapacitating every enemy with ease. By the time you find the sweet potato stall, there’s only one persistent fighter still giving the swordsman problems. You don’t feel any ounce of fear, however, as you pick through the salvageable gourds while the clashing of swords rings out behind you. Eventually, the street quiets and Zoro returns to your side as if nothing happened at all. “Good?”
“I’m fine,” you say truthfully, running your thumb over the bruise of an otherwise good potato. “You think this one’s still okay?” After peering at it and deeming it safe, he nods.
“Yeah, it should be fine. If anything, you can just cut off the ugly spot.” There’s a splattering of red just under his eye when you meet his gaze. Your fingers unconsciously come up to wipe the speck of blood from his cheek and his skin feels just as electric as the first time you touched him.
“Cool. I’m done shopping then, so we can go back home.”
“We?”
“You’re staying for dinner. It isn’t a request,” you command lightheartedly and smile when his steps fall into line next to yours.
“Mmm, I can’t wait.”
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#zoro x you#zoro x reader#zoro x y/n#roronoa zoro x you#roronoa zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x y/n#opla!zoro x you#opla!zoro x y/n#opla!zoro x reader#opla x you#opla x reader#opla x y/n
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omg we know how YN is about mlbrry’s short shorts but I want to know if there’s something she wears out that makes H absolutely feral
Hot As They Come
prompt: this mini blurb turned into something else completely
warnings: body issues, smut
if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it! (this is what motivates me to continue writing)!
i write for FREE - I am also trying to steer away from paetron so everyone can have access my stories - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.
——
He’s a narcissist, so anytime she has his jersey on.
They all were staying at Anne’s lake house (that Harry had purchased her) in Rhode Island for the long weekend - Easton, Cash, and Ezra were in the pool being vigilantly watched by Anne and her friend, Martha when Harry arrives.
He had to fly home from a stretch of games in San Diego, then get in the car, and drive three hours to get to his family.
YN had been inside, laying down with Briar for a nap, having the all fours kids had been exhausting these past two days - plus Briar was freshly one and still had some painful teeth coming in.
When he opens the back gate, he’s automatically met with squeals and whines when his kids realizes he’s finally there.
They’re all floating in the pool with their float vests on, except for Easton who was old enough not to have one.
Chants of ‘daddy’ echo through the backyard as they wave him closer.
Harry being a big child at heart, drops his suitcase, and kicks off his trainers and socks, then his shirt before he’s running towards the pool and cannonballing into the deep end, away from the kids.
When he pops up, hair matted to his head, all of them are giggling wildly - including Anne and Martha as Harry dives back under to pop up near his kids to make them scream in surprise and joy.
The two boys are automatically climbing all over him and he waste no time in tossing them high into the air before they’re sinking into the water.
A whimper comes from his right, near the steps, “Daddy, daddy.”
Harry takes a break from the boys to pout out his bottom lip and swim over to his little boy, scooping him up and wading back into the water.
“Hi bubba, missed you so much,” Harry tells him as he lays his head on his shoulder, sleepy and most likely ready for his own nap.
“Miss you,” He lisps back before his hand is coming up to play with the gold cross on his necklace and tucking his thumb between his lips.
“Mum, where’s YN?” He asks as he drifts towards the edge near where Anne is sat with her feet in the water.
“Inside, she’s taking a nap with Briar,” Anne replies before taking a sip of her own homemade lemonade and swishing her toes.
“Was she tired?” Harry frowns, guilt sinking into his stomach - he knew she had been stressed having to tote all four kids in the car for multiple hours.
She would also lie and tell Harry everything went fine because she didn’t want him to feel bad that he wasn’t there.
“Very. She said that Briar and Ezra were giving her a hard time on the way up. She said Briar’s teeth are coming in and she kept her up all last night,” Anne reports before adding on, “They’ve been asleep for a good three hours so hopefully they feel refreshed when they wake up.”
Harry tries to not internalize it and has to remind himself he’s not a terrible husband or father but he hates when he’s away.
The boys grab his attention again, demanding their father watch them do handstands and swim to the bottom to retrieve dive batons.
All the while, Ezra makes himself comfortable in his dad’s arms and he had removed his life vest so he was more comfortable when he naps against his warm skin.
Harry’s turning quickly when he hears the back door open and his heart jumps like a schoolboy when he sees his wife step onto the patio with his newest little baby just in a swim diaper on her plush hip.
He has to swallow hard when he scans her body, a simple black bikini on with one of his unbuttoned jerseys that’s down to her mid thigh.
She doesn’t even realize how sexy she looks is the thing, he knows she put it on to cover her body a bit more because she’s still a bit self-conscious of some baby weight.
However, he’s basically drooling, the extra weight around her hips, thighs, tummy - decorated with light stretch marks.
Harry hasn’t seen a more beautiful woman in his life.
He wants to bite that soft skin, licks those marks from where her body stretch to accommodate their chunky bubs.
Briar, who’s just learning basic words, squeaks out an excited, “Dadadada.”
Harry wades towards the shallow end where Anne’s waiting to carefully wrap Ezra in a towel while he sleeps, his mother then takes the little boy for a snuggle in the shade.
“Dadada,” Briar continues to whine with a pitiful pout on her face as she makes grabby hands towards her father.
“Oh, hi there, lil’ mama. I missed you so much, little love,” Harry hums as soon as YN shifts the baby into his arms and Briar’s pulling at her dad’s wet locks.
“Dada,” She coos back as Harry winces at the tugs to his hair and his eyes twinkling as he looks at his wife who’s smiling back.
“Hi mama,” Harry murmurs softly as he rocks Briar on his hip, his other hand reaching out to cup her jaw and bring her in for a long kiss.
“Missed you,” YN replies quietly, a bit of sadness and stress in her voice as she runs her hand down his side and squeezes his hip.
“I’m sorry, darling,” He replies back, just as quietly, and moves to kiss her forehead, “You’re such an amazing wife and mama. I appreciate everything you do for this family.”
A crease forms between her eyebrows, lips turned down a bit, “You’re the one who provides for us.”
Harry makes sure they’re making eye contact when he tells her, “What I do for this family is nothing compared to what you provide us.”
“I love you,” YN sighs, leaning over for another quick kiss and adds, “I know you feel guilty but please don’t. I knew what I was agreeing to when we had four kids.”
“Not the first time,” He chuckles, looking fondly back at Easton, who was now seven which was crazy, and thriving.
“Mm, he was just our favorite surprise. Wouldn’t change it for anything,” She replies with a warm smile, leaning over to kiss Briar’s cheek and she lets out the bubbliest giggle.
Martha steps over to them, arms outstretched, “Okay parents, time to share this little muffin with the rest of us.”
Harry slips Briar into the crook of her arm and she goes easily, lounging back and tucking her pacifier that was in her small fist this whole time back into her mouth.
“You look so fuckin’ hot,” Harry hums lowly now that all the babies were out of earshot, his hands coming to her hips.
YN scowls at him, stiff and frustrated when she grits out, “You don’t have to lie to me just because you’re my husband.”
Harry gets defensive instantly, “What would I be lyin’ about?”
“I know I don’t look hot. It’s my first time in a bikini since I had Briar. My stomach is still puffy, my love handles, not to mention my boobs from breastfeeding four kids,” She huffs like it’s obvious as she pinches at skin in her hip.
“Come on, now,” Harry says firmly to her, authority and demand in his voice which wasn’t common for him to take that tone with her, “Mum, you guys okay with watching them for a few?”
Anne waves them off and tells them to enjoy a few minutes alone, they have everything handled.
“Wha-“ YN begins to ask as Harry wraps his hand around her wrist and guides her back into the house, back into their room, and clicks the lock shut.
“Don’t you dare ever insult the body that gave us our four perfect, healthy babies. The body that I fell in love with and am still madly gone for,” Harry nearly hisses as he’s tugging the jersey off of her shoulders until it pools on the ground.
“Harry, I-“
“Just listen to me, would you?” He cuts her off as he kneels in front of her, lips moving over the silky smooth skin of her stomach.
“Love this belly,” Harry praises, kissing, licking, biting at the sensitive skin that has fully went back to normal, “Obsessed with it even. Everything about you gets me hard. I love how you look, I love that you have this, reminds me of what a strong woman you are.”
YN feels embarrassed that she’s getting emotional at his kind words, they were so sincere and reverent that there was no question he meant them.
“These love handles?” Harry scoffs as his large hands grip the extra plush of her hips, “Do you know how sexy it is? Love holding onto them when you ride me.”
His voice had gotten noticeably deeper and gravely with his arousal, standing up and moving to untie her top - letting her breasts falls from where they were held up to appear more perky.
“Don’t get me started on your tits,” He groans as he thumbs at her nipples, being carefully because they were sore from feeding Briar, “Fuckin’ beauties. I remember the first time I got to see ‘em. Swear that was more memorable than when I got drafted. You think I’m gonna complain that they got bigger? You’re crazy.”
YN giggles at that, especially when he gives her a cheeky smile and presses himself against her so he can kiss her again.
His hands go to the ties of her bottoms on each hip, playing with the string as he whispers, “Please let me take these off and ‘ave you. I’ve been starving for it, mama.”
“It’s been a week,” YN chuckles as she bumps there noses - already feeling better about herself, feel more empowered and sexy, “If you’re so hard up, maybe I should help you out.”
“It’s about you. You don’t have to if you don’t- fuckin’ hell, doll,” Harry moans when his damp athletic shorts and briefs are pulled down and YN is kneeling to lick at the bottom side of his hard length.
A thrill shoots about her spine for her husband’s reaction to her mouth, his hands weaving into her locks, and whimpering, “C’mon baby, take me. Can’t be teased right now or I’m gonna come so fast for you.”
“For me?” YN parrots with a mischievous smirk as she pumps him, he’s almost too big for her palm and she loved that.
“F’course, you’re the only thing that makes me come. Whether you’re right in front of me or if m’in my hotel room thinking about you,” Harry pants sweetly, still letting her make the calls when she doesn’t listen and continues to just lap at his dripping tip.
“Best husband,” YN praises him as her hands come up to roll his balls with her thumb, making his cock twitch in her hand.
“Fuckin’ Christ,” Harry grunts after another minute or so, he’s leaning down and pulling her up before he’s picking her up and throwing her own the bed as she yelps in surprise, “Give me tha’ cunt.”
YN spreads her legs immediately and Harry is nearly ripping the bottoms off of her lower half before his face is buried between her thick thighs, sucking harshly at her clit as payback.
“Ba-baby,” YN whines in a kittenish tone, pushing her hips up into his mouth to ride his tone to chase her pleasure, “Wha-no!”
YN complains when he pulls back, crudely wiping his mouth on her belly before leaning down and cleaning up her slickness with his tongue.
“Shush up, we don’t have much time. We got four little buggers out there, s’only a matter of time before one of them causes trouble,” Harry quips as he wriggles her bum up off the bed and wrapping her legs around his waist so he can fuck in.
“There,” She moans quietly a few seconds in when he angles just so that his cock is hitting the spot that sets her afire and then he adds a thumb to her clit for extra stimulation.
“Yeah, I know,” He murmurs cockily, fingers dimpling the skin where he’s holding on to her upper thighs as he pushes his narrow hips into her center over and over again.
Harry nearly comes on the spot when YN redirects on of her hands to her throat, she doesn’t have to say anything before Harry’s gripping at the sides of her neck with his fingers.
“How could you think that you’re not perfect? You’re as hot as they come,” Harry tells her as her limbs loosen and she climaxes, he lets go of the pressure on her throat and follows suit.
“I love you,” YN hums when he collapses on top of her, “Welcome home. You played amazing in San Diego.”
“I love you more,” Harry replies as he smatters kisses along her cheeks, “Those guys were a buncha of ass-“
The both turn their heads when they hear echoing through the backyard a wail that was no doubt Cash because Easton wasn’t sharing a water toy.
“It was fun while it lasted,” YN snickers as they roll of the bed and begin to redress so that they can go back out and take over parenting duties.
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#harry styles writing#harry styles#harry styles smut#mlb!harry blurbs#mlb!verse#mlb!harry masterlist#mlb!harry#harry styles masterlist#harry styles fic rec#harry styles x reader#harry styles fluff#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#file#erodasfishtacos masterlist#fic recommendation#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles huband#husband!harry#dad harry styles#dad!harry#harry styles imagine#harry styles drabble#harry styles writing request
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Dropping an entire fic chapter by chapter on tumblr because I dont have an ao3 account? Dont mind if I do!
Chapter 1- Flower Fruit Mountain
The little fishing boat rocked gently in the waters as it approached the island. Mk gazed warily over the side. The ocean had gone from the expected sea green to a sickly magenta the closer they got. There seemed to be an abundance of plantlife growing on the surface the closer they got to shore, but... it all looked sick. Wrong. Looking closer the spirit guide realized it wasn't growing at all; it was dead matter that had floated to the surface, and something else entirely was feeding off it.
“Hey, uh, Mei? You're sure this is waterproof, right?” He questioned his companion nervously. The woman steering the ship turned to acknowledge him, grinning fondly.
“Relax, Mk! The boat's fine! Just... maybe don't lean too far over the side.” She turned her gaze back to the island. She could see what appeared to be a dilapidated dock jutting out into the water from the shore. Carefully she turned the rudder to bring them in closer.
It wasn't much longer until they arrived. After anchoring the boat and tying it to the sturdiest thing she could find, Mei dusted her hands and set them on her hips. Mk was busy poking around the dock.
Old as the dock seemed, everything lay exactly as it had been the last time it was used. A snapshot in time, rotting away. Right down to the hull of a ship poking out of the water, faded blue paint still visible.
“This is... eerie.” The boy frowned, clutching his staff a bit closer, protectively. “Isn't this place supposed to be super haunted? I thought for sure we'd run into something as soon as we reached shore.”
Mei shrugged. “Guess they don't have a dedicated welcome committee? Come on, Mk! Stop worrying. The sooner we find the source of the rot and lay it to rest, the sooner we can get out of here! Piece of cake!” She wouldn't admit it, but the dragon girl was a bit unnerved by how quiet it was, herself.
Before them, across the yawning stretch of beach, sprawled a dense jungle. Beyond that, in the center of the Island, a mountain loomed far over the treetops. Flower Fruit Mountain, except there didn't seem to be and flowers or fruit left alive.
Mk took a deep breath and drew himself taller, psyching himself up. “Ok. Yeah! We can do this! Easy! Stop the rot, get back home!”
As the two reached the groundcover, it seemed as if the jungle stretched and opened a way for them. Almost welcoming. Almost, if it weren't for the pulsing rot that seemed to cling to near any surface it could. The whole island was a deadzone. And the surrounding islands would be too, soon, if it wasn't addressed. That was why they had come, after all.
The further in the little team hiked, the worse it got. But after an hour of walking, doing what they could to avoid poisoned ground, the silent forest erupted in the sounds of a fight. Mk looked over at Mei, who nodded knowingly. This could be what they were hunting for, or at least part of it.
They picked up the pace, trying to catch up to whatever it was before the scuffle ended.
Entering a clearing of broken trees, they came upon two figures locked in battle - one a deep, sunset purple hue, and the other gold as the sun. Both wore masks, and both seemed to have the same build, though it was difficult to tell with the speed they were moving. Deep gouges scored the earth and rocks around them, some as old as the docks themselves, some much, much newer.
Mk moved to intervene, but Mei swiftly moved an arm across his chest. “Wait. Just watch for now, we can't do anything for them yet. The boy sighed and nodded.
And so they observed the fight. The combatants seemed evenly matched at first, but it soon became apparent the sunset figure had the upper hand. They flung the other around like a ragdoll with brutal ease, and it seemed all the gold figure's energy was focused on just keeping them at bay. Or at least, that's what Mei thought at first but... the gold one really wasn't fighting back at all, were they?
Eventually, the sunny figure paused to catch their breath. “Time out! Time out!” He called, dodging out of the way again. Sunset hit a treetrunk behind him, toppling it and hissing in pain. Mk yelped as it landed just shy of he and Mei's hiding spot.
Both fighters startled, turning to look at the spirit guides. Mk waved sheepishly, chuckling. “Heeeeyy... hi.”
The two spirits seemed to share a look. Now that they were standing still, it was easier to tell what they were. Two monkey demons, or at least the shades of them, blinked owlishly out of their mirrored masks at the human and the dragon girl.
The first was dark, with long fur that seemed to have a life of its own, and dressed in long, elegant robes that seemed ill-fit for combat despite the earlier prowess he'd shown. One of his arms was all but consumed by corruption, though it didn't particularly seem to bother him. That was often the case with corrupted spirits.
The second, a golden-orange hue, seemed far less put together. His fur was wild and his tattered, dust-covered clothes were more suited to traveling than what his counterpart wore. He seemed largely unaffected by corruption, oddly enough. Then again, some spirits were just resistant to it. It was likely he was tethered here by something other than regret and rage, then.
Seeing that they weren't moving to attack, Mk straightened up and continued with a bit more confidence. “Hello, spirits! I'm Mk, and this is my partner, Mei! We were sent here because the corruption from this island is uh... spreading! Very fast!” He coughed, pausing. “We're here to help!”
The purple monkey immediately grew guarded, though he stepped forward, and the gold one kicked awkwardly at the ground allowing him to speak for them both. “Mk, you said? Full offense, kid, but better than you have tried and failed. Just leave now. This doesn't concern you.” his tail flicked in irritation behind him, long, dark fur sweeping away leaves and debris without seeming to pick any up. And just as soon as he'd spoken his piece, he vanished, making it more than apparent he was done talking.
The gold spirit made a noise of derision. “As much as I hate to agree with anything he says... it's not safe here for the living. He's right. Turn back while you can. Leave the dead to the dead, bud.” Unlike the other, he lingered.
“I can lead you two back out of the jungle. But please, don't return. There are other ways to get rid of the corruption.”
Mei sighed in frustration, stepping in front of a crestfallen Mk. “Yeah, that's not how this is gonna work.” She smirked, crossing her arms. “You're stuck with us. We came here to do a job, and we aren't leaving until it's done!”
The remaining monkey demon grumbled under his breath. “Fine! Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you! Let the record show when you die out here, I tried to tell you and you're not allowed to haunt me!” he threw his hands in the air, exasperated, and turned to walk away. He reached the edge of the clearing and paused expectantly, turning to check behind them.
“Well? Are you coming or not? You cant just stay here.”
Mei looked quizzically at Mk. He shrugged back.
“HURRY UP!” the monkey barked, barely concealed grin in his voice. It had been forever since there was company on the island. If they were going to stay, he may as well help give them a fighting chance. And so the human and the dragon followed the spirit through the jungle, moving ever closer to the mountainous heart of the island.
#lmk#lmk fanfiction#spirit guide au#lego monkie kid au#lego monkie kid#lmk mk#lmk mei#lmk macaque#lmk wukong#lmk fanfic#lmk au
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Listen to Cheeseburger in Paradise
Listen to It's Five O'clock Somewhere
Propaganda and trivia below:
Cheeseburger in Paradise:
"I LIKE MINE WITH LETTUCE AND TOMATO 👏
HEINZ 57 AND FRENCH FRIED POTATOES 👏
BIG KOSHER PICKLE AND A COLD DRAFT BEER 👏
WELL GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY WHICH WAY DO I STEER FOR MY-
🍔CHEESEBURGER IN PARADISE?!?!🏝️"
"Buffett said of this song: "The myth of the cheeseburger in paradise goes back to a long trip on my first boat, the Euphoria. We had run into some very rough weather crossing the Mona Passage between Hispanola and Puerto Rico, and broke our new bowsprit. The ice in our box had melted, and we were doing the canned-food-and-peanut-butter diet. The vision of a piping hot cheeseburger kept popping into my mind. We limped up the Sir Francis Drake Channel and into Roadtown on the island of Tortola, where a brand new marina and bar sat on the end of the dock like a mirage. We secured the boat, kissed the ground, and headed for the restaurant. To our amazement, we were offered a menu that featured an American cheeseburger and piña coladas. Now, these were the days when supplies were scarce - when horsemeat was more plentiful than ground beef in the tiny stores of the Third World. Anyway, we gave particular instructions to the waiter on how we wanted them cooked, and what we wanted on them - to which very little attention was paid. It didn't matter. The overdone burgers on the burned, toast buns tasted like manna from Heaven, for, they were the realization of my fantasy burgers on the trip. That's the true story. I've heard other people and places claim that I stopped or cooked in their restaurants, but that is the way it happened.""
It's Five O'clock Somewhere:
"Here's the story of the song as explained by Rollins to The Boot: "I had the idea of, 'It's Five O'clock Somewhere,' and it just clicked that the idea would do really well with that setting. I floated it out and he said, 'Yeah, I've always heard that saying but I've never heard a song about that.' So we wrote it. It was definitely that 'Margaritaville' feel. Jim and I agreed what the story was, that this was a guy who decided to have a few at lunch, and then decided to stay there. Once that framework was there, then the lyrics were very easy for me. The musical setting of it was more Jim's end of it. That chorus, 'Pour me something tall and strong ...' musically, was definitely Jim's thing.
The 'What would Jimmy Buffett do?' line in the bridge was there from the beginning. It was me being sarcastic, poking a little fun at the 'What would Jesus do?' bumper stickers. It happened to be exactly the right thing for that situation. That was the way they brought Buffett into the song, it turned out to be the thing to make the song work for that situation."
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Over the week that we spend in Bali, Pak Arwen, the minivan driver, becomes friendly with my father. This happens because they are both Indonesian-Chinese – which is to say that they share a shiver down the spine regarding certain historical dates, political figures and tribalist slurs.
At some point, when it became too difficult to be Chinese in Sumatra, each man's family gambled the present for its future. My father's fled for Singapore and Pak Arwen's for Bali. Decades later, the two men occupy different stations in life: my father plays a tuan to Pak Arwen's supir. But their shared memory of this gamble – and the conditions that forced it – levels the playing field a little.
Both men, being Christian-Chinese, have lived the parable about the pillar of salt. They understand the importance of moving forward, eyes fixed to the line on the horizon.
Is Pak Arwen looking forward or backward when he tells us: This is too much? He says this as we drive past a large banner, stirring in the breeze by the side of the road. The banner is bright red, with a slogan in block capitals: TOLAK REKLAMASI TELUK BENOA. Resist the reclamation of Benoa Bay.
This is one of the first non-English signs that we've seen all day, which makes me think that it's not for tourists. Or perhaps it's for a specific kind of tourist – the kind that's stayed here long enough to perceive that something isn't on offer to them, and want a part in it anyway.
My father asks: What do you mean?
And Pak Arwen responds, one hand circling the steering wheel for eloquence: Nothing is good enough here. Roads, land, water…
The road in front of us is marked by potholes; the banner speaks of land problems. What about water? I sprint through some figures: say there are 5,000 hotels here plus hundreds of unregistered villas, and each one has a pool…
I think about the news stories that I have read, on The Jakarta Post and Al Jazeera. Impossible to describe how much of this island's water goes into making, and maintaining, glamour. Each week, scores of foreign developers reach into Bali's south coast, summoning up yoga studios and restaurants by the dozen. Trump shakes hands with Harry Tanoe and a golfer's empire materialises, sun-bleached and thirsty by the gallon.
But all this diverts water from the poorer North, where most locals live. In this land of glassy infinity pools, more than half the rivers have already run dry. Streams still criss-cross the terraced rice fields of Ubud. But deeper underground, the freshwater banks are pulling back from parched earth. Bali's farmers live the reality that its tourists cannot see – at night, they sleep in their fields with one eye open for irrigation thieves.
Later, I root around online for more stories about Benoa Bay. I learn that Tommy Winata, the Indonesian billionaire, is trying to reclaim land there. He wants to coax hectares of malls, theme parks and an F1 track out of swampland. But this floating world will crush the coral reefs that protect Bali's coastline and keep the sea at bay. Eventually it will flood the island, dragging whole villages into the sea.
In a place like Bali – I tell myself – the supply of pleasure must always meet the demand for it. Even if it costs the future for some people; even if it means death.
After all this is paradise, where nothing ever runs out.
.
Let me tell you another story about Bali that I know. This one is a creation story, concerning the beginnings of paradise.
Imagine that the year is 1906. Bali is an island divided. Dutch forces have occupied the northern territories, leaving three Hindu kingdoms where once there were six. Today, they begin the march south to complete their reign, winding downwards from Tabanan to Badung to the offshore court of Klungkung.
This story is an old one, whose basic tenets are familiar to many people around the world. At heart, it is a story about mismatched means and ends: guns versus kris, ambition versus ancestral claims.
The Dutch troops begin their journey. Quickly, they pass through the city of Kesiman to reach their first stop, Denpasar. At first, the city streets seem too quiet: where is the resistance that they come ready to meet? But as the soldiers advance, they hear something stirring in the distance, from the direction of Denpasar palace: the faint but unmistakable pulse of drums.
And so they go on. As they near the palace, a procession of silent figures files out from its gates. From a distance, they spy the Raja on his palanquin surrounded by courtiers and priests, wives and guards, and children and servants. There are hundreds of people now, robed in white with dusty feet. Flowers laced into their hair.
Both parties, the Dutch and the Balinese, advance. Now there are 200 paces between them; now, 100. The gap between two worlds is narrowing. Then it closes for the century to come, and possibly forever: a puputan commences. The Raja steps down from his palanquin and gives a signal. Instantly someone lunges forward and knifes him in the chest. Motion erupts across the landscape as men force weapons into their children, then stab themselves. Women fling jewels into the air and then topple, wailing, onto their knives.
Dark liquid starts to fill the ground. A metallic scent rises. But Balinese people keep emerging from the palace in a slow, unstoppable stream. When they're within sight of the Dutch troops, they plunge forward onto their daggers, then collapse into the growing snarl of limbs.
Their bodies cover the ground, both protest and decree.
By this point the Dutch soldiers have opened fire, then ceased fire, then opened fire again. They don't know what to do. Several centuries of colonial rule have left them untrained for situations involving consent – and this seems like more than consent, seems close to an invitation. Eventually, they resort to doing what they know best – which is to seize what isn't on offer, looting the corpses for anything that gleams through the sticky mess of fluids.
There will be two more puputans before Bali falls completely, both of them photographed. Eventually, these pictures will cause a kind of moral backlash in Europe, with the thumping of Bibles and pontifical braying. Desperate to hold on to their empire, the Dutch will announce a new resolution: from now on, they will protect Balinese culture and not gun it down. In fact, they resolve to protect Balinese culture so soundly that it never changes from its present state or experiences the advancements of modern life.
Let the world move slowly here, their edicts declare. Progress is not for the pure of heart. Which is what the Balinese people are, presumably – puputans notwithstanding.
For decades to come, Dutch laws will force the Balinese people to wear Baju Endek and not linen pants – to converse in local dialects and not Malay, the regional code of rebellion. All over the island, atap roofs will sprout over modern innovations in galvanised iron. Whole dances will be invented for the Balinese people to perfect, then unleash upon large groups of tourists.
Soon, these tourists will be everywhere, scouring the island with their notepads at the ready – fresh from the war in Europe, and hungry for visions of innocence. Look at this place, they'll say, pointing at random to rice fields and bare-chested women. What authentic culture; what happy natives! So simple and contented with their lot.
They'll forget about the puputans, the cold carpet of bodies.
Bali becomes a paradise on earth.
Island Paradise, Tjoa Shze Hui
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Ghostic: Exorcism - Chapter 3
Location: Medical Office
Characters: Touri, Yuzuru, Keito, Eichi, Wataru & Tatsumi
TL Note:
Grab a log: This is a line from the manga “Higanjima” (Island of Paramita) where logs are deemed to be an all-purpose weapon.
Yuzuru: *Zzz…*
Hm…?
(...I’ve fallen asleep before I realised. My head feels clouded… It appears I must have been in quite a deep sleep.)
(I have a lesson late into the night today, so I can rest for a bit longer here.)
(But I can’t seem to calm down seeing as there is nothing for me to do. Since I’m here, I can find some work to do at the very least. I should order a new glass after the Young Master broke it yesterday.)
(The smartphone truly is such a convenient item in such times. I can even purchase everyday cutlery on the internet.)
(This helps a great deal as it allows me to complete miscellaneous matters so easily. Perhaps I have a chronic disease where I do not have the time to steer away from my work…♪)
(Order complete. It might be a good idea to search for the Young Master’s new phone while I’m at it.)
(There has been quite a number of dangerous happenings in the world recently. I suppose I do wish to attach a transmitter to the Young Master’s phone in order to protect him…)
(No. That may be too overprotective. It seems I’m still quite guarded after the strange incident last night.)
(I’ve told myself over and over that psychic phenomena are all psychological.)
(But doing nothing will only cause me to succumb to my paranoia. I feel very uneasy when I think about how the Young Master might be in danger.)
(I shall return to practice and shake off these wicked thoughts. They should all be understanding if I told them, “I have recovered after a small nap”.)
Location: ES Halloween Stage (fine)
Touri: GYAAAAH!
Eeeeeeeeeeek!
S-Save me! I’m so scared!
What’s up with all these things~? There are shadows, mysterious handprints, distressing music and props!
It feels like anxiety and despair are taking turns to close in on me as if they’re sneering at me!
A genius entertainer? Yeah, right!
I bet that Long-hair’s gleefully doing all the things I hate. I feel like my emotions have gone on a rollercoaster~!
Keito: Calm down, Himemiya. Hearing you scream so close to me hurts my ears and I can’t stand it.
If you clear your mind of all worldly thoughts, even fire will feel cool. Don’t be so agitated, keep calm and–
Touri: Now’s not the time to be saying that! Scary things are scary!
K-Kazehaya-senpai! Hold my hand, okay!? Don’t you dare let go next time!
Tatsumi: Of course. I shall not make the same mistake again.
Oh? The light is reflecting off that spot over there. It looks as though a white sheet is being hung over something but… could that be the exit?
Touri: The exit? Yay! Let’s get outta here ♪
Keito: Wait. Look closely at that white cloth… isn’t it moving?
Touri: Which means–
A GHOOOOOOST!?
Eichi: Yup. Touri is reacting exactly as I hoped he would.
It looks like the ghost Wataru set up is indeed working as intended. It seems the “ES Haunted House” will be quite promising.
Wataru: The lighting may be under construction so it seems a torch is enough to guide the way through the path.
They will be able to enjoy it perfectly if the lights are constructed before the big day.
An Amazing haunted house presented by us “fine”. I’m looking forward to the actual opening ♪
Eichi: It’s a huge attraction we spent all our efforts on, after all. If anything, we’d only be upset if people don’t enjoy it.
Now, all that’s left is the saloon, in order words, this room. It’ll only spoil the fun if we show ourselves, so let’s hide in a different room in the meantime.
A poltergeist phenomenon awaits them everywhere in this saloon.
Then, the ghosts of the mansion’s residents will float from their paintings and beckon those who pass through the haunted house to come to the other side…
It’s our final big trick: making them feel as though they have succumbed to the domination of the ghosts. I’m sure even this will surprise Keito and Kazehaya-kun.
Wataru: Fufufu, I’d love to see them struck with terror! I wonder how they’ll react to it…♪
Eichi: Yeah, I’m sure Keito will–
Hm?
Wataru: A phone call? Perhaps it’s one of the construction workers?
Eichi: No, it’s from an unknown caller. I wonder who it could be at a time like this? I’ll answer it.
………
It seems it’s a silent phone call. Maybe it’s someone’s prank. There are only a handful of people who have my number, though.
Wataru: Which means someone called your number by mistake? It’s possible they panicked and hung up the moment they heard your voice.
Eichi: Fufu. Maybe a revengeful spirit had enough of the “ES Haunted House” and decided to show itself.
Wataru: Surely not…!
If that is to be true, that would be terrifying! Perhaps our souls have already been taken from us in this mansion…!
Have you already secured the escape route, Eichi? Let us immediately grab a log of wood[*] each and meet up with everyone else!
Eichi: Ahaha. You’re overreacting. There’s no way I would have something like that ♪
Everyone seeks the answers to everything, despite the fact that there are a number of unexplainable things in this world.
I’m sure any kind of phenomenon has a reason behind it. We simply don’t know the cause.
And I think psychic phenomena are the best example of that.
Wataru: Oh, I thought you would join me in my little act. What a shame.
However, I can see that you’re enjoying this enigma. Things such as our dreams and imaginations can save people who are distressed in reality, after all.
Let’s make the “ES Haunted House” a success, Eichi.
Eichi: Fufu. Why are you saying all this now?
You are I – we are accomplices who bear the sin of terrifying others, aren’t we?
Together, let us watch over Touri and the others as they reach their goal, Wataru ♪
Wataru: Yes. Let’s enjoy ourselves until the very end. Enigmas shall remain enigmas.
← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂ Next Chapter →
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I do wanna mention this one thing that happened that was so funny to me.
So the party heads up to a floating island to make a delivery for someone and is met by someone who greets them v creepily and tries to insist on the party going inside their home.
My character, a werewolf, has a v sensitive nose that immediately susses out that this person is undead and old as balls. Alarmed, he immediately gathers his party and they scram.
As they leave, the undead person sends a (creepy) mental goodbye to one of the party.
Later on, after dealing w errands, the party heads back to the inn they're staying at. Only, when they get there, they find that the undead person is THERE and rented a room. Sufficiently creeped, the party discovers that the undead person is a powerful magical figure that is reclusive and seldom goes out.
The party, creeped out, decides to steer clear.
But then the undead person leaves, and the party gets their room key to investigate what brought them down from their residence on the floating island.
In the room, they find a note left on the desk. It is the only thing they find. The note summarily says that my character smells like wet dog and that they find him v interesting. It also goes on to say that OUR PARTY is acting SUS AF, and that whenever we're done being weird, we should head up to visit the undead person so that they can “study” us???
And the whole party got SO OFFENDED about the undead person saying my character smelled like wet dog, along w the fact that they called us SUS when we were reacting to THEIR creepy behavior.
The party proceeded to try and console a completely unaffected werewolf about how he SO DOES NOT SMELL. My character, the werewolf, does not care about his smell and is more concerned about the fact that someone wants to experiment on him (and this would not be the first person expressing such a wish).
And then the party fumed for a while over being called weird when the undead person literally stalked the party just to let them know they wanna study them. Fcking LOL.
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Dec 3 2022 (5:12pm)
I found another great sector in my life to apply positive thinking to: creating songs.
I was just thinking that in order for me to sit down and start working on a song I need to consciously think about it as a session of pushing against my doubts and fears.
When I think of working on a song, I’m afraid of writing something bad, or having to look at my bad ideas, or this or that. It’s very subtle but ultimately steers me away from working creatively. I think I’ll never achieve the fun freshness of Florentine Unknown, or Pleasure, or whatever, ever again. At least, I’m afraid to confirm that.
So, anyway, I need to go into these writing sessions with a positive attitude. Think to myself, “I’m gonna find something great, I just gotta get dirty”, and feel the discomfort of finding garbage. Embrace it. I am closer to finding a gold nugget.
I’ve never done that, encouraged myself into writing. I’ve always just waited for inspiration, motivation to numb me to the sharp prick of venturing into the creative darkness.
I’m actually somewhat shocked I’ve never made this observation before. I do it quite a lot with things I find valuable. I make dull excuses to basically avoid starting them and feeling the ache of it being too much for me at that moment. Writing, maybe reading a hefty book, starting a new hobby… stuff of importance. It’s like I don’t feel ready. Perhaps I just need to tell myself am I, and say fuck it to doubt and fear.
That reminds me of something I heard yesterday. To be masculine is to be without doubt or fear and to be massively ambitious. It was said though it was a baseline, a normative state. I liked that because it framed these things not as something to reach but as frame of mind to embrace.
I think a lot of guys have been punched down by the world into thinking that their ambitions are frivolous, or excessive and that being doubtful and fearful is “normal”. We all have the potential for doubt and fear and any other negative emotion of course, but when we are most “normal” self, we are simply without these emotions. To be yourself is to not fear or doubt, anything, and when you do understand that is a “normal” feeling in that no feeling is a threat to you.
I’ve been a little rough around the edges today, and I had a moment tonight where the abyss rippled through me. I felt the existential terror I’ve felt before, and I said to myself, this is a feeling. I felt the feeling in it’s horrid entirety, making no effort to soften it’s effect. I told myself this is how I feel right now, and that I’ll have to work up from here, this awful place. I reminded myself that no feeling is static, and unchanging. I have the power to go beyond the feeling of existential terror, to change it into something more.
An ultimate question is “is life meaningless?”. I would say yes, in that it does not have any inherent meaning from the get go. The vast terrifying void of existence is a canvas we get to paint on, and create our human way. Love, life, laughter, art, etc. And thank god for it because it is the basis of life. Without that terrifying abyss, this simply would not be at all.
Perhaps that shudder one feels when beholding the magnitude of existence and the fear it inspires is less about being swallowed by an endlessly bitter truth, black and faceless, and more about how unprepared we feel to build the kingdom of our lives on a floating island, because we know so deeply, so instinctually that it is the only thing we will ever do. So we better not mess it up. How better a problem, challenge to drive you mad with anxiety.
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So,
Shuswap Joe couldn’t feel his arms.
Blair was steering their raft from the back, standing proudly against the driving wind as she expertly slalomed along with the fastest moving currents. After their tussle with the rapid, which had drenched them both completely, the water had settled into a lazy burble before opening wide to become the Thompson River. This was the smuggling route the Scotch Creek distillery’s hooch took to the coast, so Joe was familiar with how it looked on a map. Being at surface level was another situation entirely.
The canoe behind them had gone silent hours earlier, though it still lurked in the distance like a sea monster breaking the surface with its serpentine snout. Maybe they’d run out of bullets. As he continued to paddle, Joe wondered what these men were even trying to accomplish. His boss Clif had warned him that some day they might face this sort of trouble, other criminals trying to shoulder into their territory, but the River Eel Saloon’s owner was confident that he’d bought off or employed nearly every working age man in Salmon Creek. Who would be stupid enough to mess with somebody like that?
“What do these men aim to gain from all this?” Joe asked, pausing for a moment as the river came to a glassy calm. “They had no reason to kill Tom.”
Blair frowned. “Not until he gave them a reason to. Not until he went and played the hero, throwing away his life like it was pocket lint. That goddamn war, Joe. It’s not right, what violence like that does to a man. He was just looking for a reason to die.”
“He still loved you, though. And the kids.”
Blair scoffed at that, rubbing the back of her hand across her dripping face. There were wisps of grey in her hair, which was messily pulled back into a ponytail, and the wrinkles around her eyes told her life whole story. It had been a life of pain and disappointment, a life of never quite getting what she wanted. The universe hadn’t been kind to Blair, and her very existence was a kind of stubborn defiance. She had callused worker’s hands and bleeding knuckles, her bare feet braced her against the rough bark of the raft.
“Watch out!” Blair yelled.
Joe turned with barely enough time to duck a tree branch shaped like an open hand, its skeletal fingers reaching for him through the mist. Their raft had become completely engulfed in a creeping white fog that swirled around them like spirits. It seemed like he could hear voices in the wind, chittering and giggling and whispering just beyond the reach of his comprehension. He swung his head from one side to the next, trying to locate the sources, but all he could see was pillowy oblivion on all sides.
“Where are we?” Joe asked, watching more dark branches drift through the mist and disappear. “What is this place? It feels haunted.”
Blair exhaled ominously. “I’ve never seen them in person before.”
“Them?”
“The Ghost Trees.”
And sure enough, as soon as she said that, an island of bone-white trees loomed out of the blank void before them like a ceremonial grave. To Joe it looked like a grove of pale albino humans, stooped and reaching and intertangling with one another. Their trunks were mottled grey but their branches were the colour of pure snow, like all colour had been leached from them by some vampiric force. They were dead, all of them, but they had a sort of sinister presence to them that made it seem like they were watching hungrily as they floated past.
“Those trees were once strong and tall. Proud. But over the years the river began to eat away at the soil they’re rooted in, washing away all the nutrients that they depend on to survive. The river took away their foundation, then it starved them until there was nothing left to do but die,” she said.
“But they’ve stayed here, stubborn, drying into hardened husks. A ghoulish reminder of what they once were. It happens to us all, you know. We start out flush with life, and end up as dried up skeletons that crumble to dust.”
Joe didn’t want to say anything to that.
Blair began slowly paddling again, staring past him as the fog continued to swirl. They’d almost forgotten about their pursuers, who they hadn’t seen in a long stretch now, but Joe had no doubt that they were still back there, relentless. What would happen if they caught up? Would he be able to kill another man to save himself? To save Blair? Or would he become nothing but another skeleton, like the ghost trees looming far overhead? He craned his neck and gazed up past the shivering branches overhead.
“What happens after we die?”
Blair smiled. “Well, Joe. It depends on who you ask about that.”
“What do you think?”
She thought about that for a long time as a light rain pebbled the surface of the Thompson. The raft was moving quickly now, picking up momentum without the aid of their paddles. The tree corpses continued to swipe at them, reaching out with knobby fingers, trying to sweep Blair and Joe down to watery oblivion. Blair chopped at one with her paddle, severing its fingers.
“Here’s what I think, Joe. You look at nature, and it’ll give you the answer. Some day you’ll die, and then something else will eat you. Maybe it will be a worm. Maybe it will be a bird. But they’ll eat up little part of you until you become a part of them,” she said.
“Maybe a part of you will become moss. Some pieces of you will end up in the belly of a salmon. You’ll be part of the earth, but you’ll also be part of the sky. Your mind might be gone, or your spirit if you want to call it that, but your body will still be alive all over. That’s the real afterlife.”
Joe considered this, picturing a hypothetical bear ripping apart a writhing salmon, its essence dripping into the water below as it desperately tries to escape. That fish would become part of the river and part of the bear simultaneously, it’s evisceration a sort of duplication. Blair’s explanation made sense to him, but still he was afraid.
Without his mind, without his body, would he really still exist?
“Watch out,” Blair said, pointing to a long half-submerged tree that lay in their path. She quickly began to steer them away. Its branches looked like sharpened spears. “We’ve got to paddle now, Joe.”
The mist was so thick for a moment he thought he might choke, but Joe began furiously paddling as the tree got closer. The current was strong here, and they were flying towards it at an alarming speed. More trees were appearing out of the whiteness like spectators, leering expectantly. A branch stabbed Joe in the arm, like a thief jumping out of the darkness, and then disappeared again just as quickly.
“Paddle, Joe!” Blair yelled, as the waves started to thrash around the raft. There was blood running down the side of her forehead, but Joe didn’t have time to figure out how that had happened. “Paddle!”
They hit the tree with a smash, and for one terrible moment it seemed like they were going to capsize. Joe’s eyes widened in horror as he gazed down at the frothing madness sluicing through the tree’s branches. His feet struggled to find purchase as the raft rose from the water, Blair throwing her weight against it with an outstretched elbow. As it shuddered and shook in the balance, Joe understood then that death was close enough to kiss him, no matter what he thought of the afterlife.
“Hold on, Joe! Don’t let go!” she yelled, and with a giant crack the raft was free again, twirling in the current. The sky opened up above them, smiling down down with a heartbreaking cluelessness, and the fog lifted almost immediately. On both sides of them were the crumbling walls of the Fraser Canyon, rust-coloured and crowded with jagged boulders. The colour of the water had transformed from a blue-black lifeblood to a creamy chocolate, and the temperature of the water had noticeably dropped.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “We made it, Blair. We made it!”
Blair sat slumped at the back, her whole body trembling like she was freezing cold. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and the blood from her head wound was running down her neck and creating a crimson stain amidst the floral design of her dress. Her breathing was strained, like a bull who has exhausted itself in the ring, but her jaw was set. She blinked determined at the churning water behind them and the thundering waterfall far in the distance. They would be there within a few hours.
“We haven’t made it anywhere. They’re still coming. And this problem isn’t going to solve itself, unless we do something.”
“Okay. What should we do?”
She smiled then, like she had just remembered a raunchy joke. “We’re going to lead them down to the gates of Hell, Joe, and then we’re going to make sure they pass through.”
The Literary Goon
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GUYS I have a hot new take on Encanto, courtesy of my spouse...
The Encanto is actually a floating island and when the candle fades everything cracks/falls apart because the island crashed.
Like... I’ve watched this movie over a dozen times and I’m trying to comprehend where he got that idea? And also, why am I only learning about this theory of his now??? I could’ve been making fic content of this!
(P.S. I saved this in my drafts weeks ago, forgot about it, and recently found it again while looking for my drafted notes on something else... I have started a fic about this though, it’s on my ao3.)
#i'm thinking maybe it's like castle in the sky?#but imagine when the mountains rise that the land within them is rising too#imagine the candle sustaining not only a magical house but a magical floating island#wonder why there are mostly donkeys? because that's all they had#we don't talk about Bruno's horse#wonder why there's no commerce with other towns? floating island#(ignore the director commentary on the issue)#wonder why it's impossible to tell when/where in colombia Encanto is set?#floating island#what good does the breaking of the magic do besides healing family trauma?#returns the island to earth#we're gonna assume the island touches down as light as a feather#yep no breaking and crashing of the island in the same manner as casita... we hope#what can i say *shrugs*#floating island it's a thing#i've started writing the thing#i don't know where this thing is going#how do we steer a floating island?#ps i also shared this idea on reddit but they're not as much fun to talk to#encanto#disney
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Rhythm of the Sea
This is a super cheesy Shanks fic and my entry for both Sea and Rhythm for @onepiece-bingo.
The rhythm of the waters below you were your lullaby, they’d always been the song that saw you off to dreamland, so maybe once more, maybe they could see you off one final time. The broken ship wall that carried you swayed on the waters as you let yourself drift off. It had been days since you’d been shipwrecked, sent adrift on a small board without food or water yet surrounded by miles of ocean. Miles of fresh fish and water, yet starving and dehydrated. Perhaps a little nap, you were tired from drifting, the ocean played you its song once more, the last one you would hear.
Shanks’s eyes narrowed as he looked out at the waters, was he seeing correctly? The figure was outside the limits of his observation haki.
“Benn! Get over here!” Shanks shouted as he pulled a spyglass from his coat, eyes widening when he noticed a figure lying on a board.
“What’s wrong captain?” Benn asked as Shanks shoved the spyglass into his hands.
“In the distance, they need our help.” Shanks said as he pointed before running towards the ship’s wheel. The red-haired captain shouted orders at his crew as he took the wheel, spinning it, steering the ship towards the figure. He didn’t know who they were, but he wouldn’t let them die out in the middle of the ocean like that, he deemed few people heinous enough for such a fate. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before they reached the figure, Benn jumping into the water and retrieving the figure off the board before the wake from their ship overturned the board. Shanks would have done so himself if he’d had the arms to do so, but he was, admittedly, still learning how to get along with just one arm and had almost dropped the spyglass, he needed to make sure that whoever they were saving, they were actually saved.
Once more you were awoken to the rhythm of the ocean against a ship, the rhythm that had always been your constant companion. Your only question was how? You’d expected to drift off to its soothing beat and sway one last time. Opening your eyes, you finally noticed you were lying in a bed aboard a ship, someone had saved you.
“Glad to see you awake. We found you floating on a board in the ocean. How’re you feeling?” A voice asked. You didn’t need to know him to recognize his face from the wanted posters, that being said, you recognized him anyway.
“Better, I suppose. Didn’t figure I’d ever see you again though.” you said, slowly sitting up and looking at your surroundings. It had been a long time but you knew he was a pirate captain, meaning that this was his ship.
“Do… I know you?” Shanks asked, head tilted to the side.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t recognize me. It’s been… oh, right about 16 years since you taught me to listen to the rhythm of the sea.” you said, watching as his look morphed into one of recognition.
“Y/n?” Shanks asked, eyes widening. It had been your secret codeword when Roger had docked at your island, sending an 11-year-old Shanks and a 10-year-old you stumbling into the unexplored realm of young love. You’d always loved the sea, staring out at its vast waters from your bedroom window. So when you’d met him and he told you about what he’d seen, you were instantly charmed. Being a noble’s daughter, you couldn’t do much, but you’d been lucky enough to be able to meet up with Shanks frequently, up until the day that it was time for his captain, and him, to leave.
“I… how? You’re… the island….” For once, Shanks was at a loss for words.
“I ran away, 3 weeks before I was to be wed, I gathered some things up, snuck aboard a ship and took off. Figured I’d look for you.” you said with a small smile. The red head chuckled, his chuckle turning into a full on laugh.
“I returned to your island 4 years ago to look for you! They said that you’d run off!” Shanks said, running his hand through his hair as he walked over to you.
“Yeah, I was supposed to get married when I was 20, you know, 6 years ago.” you said with a laugh as Shanks plopped down on the bed, sitting next to you.
“Do you still love the sea as much as you did back then?” Shanks asked, reaching out and tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.
“If I didn’t, do you think I’d be out here? Searching for the one person in this world I ever… we once promised that if… I know we were young and stupid, but do you think…” you reached your hand out, intertwining your fingers with his. Shanks smiled, leaning in and kissing you.
“What was that cheesy line I said to you once? ‘The rhythm of the sea is nothing compared to your sweet voice, its shimmering beauty nothing compared to your eyes, all the treasures it contains nothing compared to your worth’?” Shanks asked, repeating the cheesiest pick-up line you’d ever heard, and from an 11-year-old none-the-less! You laughed, remembering how a young, red-haired boy had offered you a bouquet of white flowers he’d picked while reciting the line as his hands shook.
“As a pirate, it’s your job to find the world’s greatest treasures and steal them away for yourself, so steal me away and keep the sea’s greatest treasure all to yourself.” you replied, trying not to burst into a fit of laughter as you recited the same thing your 10-year-old self had told him. Shanks, however, did a far worse job of containing his laughter, pulling you into a tight, one-armed embrace.
“I suppose I should introduce my newest crewmate to the rest of the crew then.” Shanks said with one of his large grins.
“Only after you tell me this story.” you said, flipping his cloak back to reveal the missing arm.
“Alright, so arm story first, then notifying the crew I’ve found the greatest treasure in all the world.” Shanks said with a smile before giving you another quick kiss. The rhythm of the sea was your lullaby, and somehow, it had led you back to your love.
#red hair shanks#one piece Shanks#shanks x reader#one piece shanks x reader#red hair shanks x reader#fluff#one piece bingo#cheesy#oh god why did I write this?#oh god why am I POSTING this?
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Work of Art [J.JH] - one hundred and six | flower viewing
You - in the throes of ‘uwus’ at seeing your two friends finally getting together - dropped your phone as you and Jaehyun crouched behind a low wall.
“Calm down,” he laughed as he picked it up an handed it back to you.
“They’re holding hands, Jaehyun, I can’t believe it worked.” You punched at Jaehyun playfully and took your phone back, putting it in your pocket. You peeked out at the two of them again. “Shit, they’re moving.” You watched them until they had gotten far enough away and followed.
“If they’re holding hands we don’t need to keep following them, do we?”
“Oh... I suppose not...” You stood and shrugged. “What do we do now?”
Jaehyun stood and looked around. “We could also view the flowers.”
“But what if we run into them?”
“Then we admit what we did.” He gestured to the walkway, in the opposite direction of where Anna and Johnny had walked.
You walked with him. “You’re much braver than I am. I was planning on not talking to Anna for at least two days if this worked out.”
He smiled. “And if it didn’t?”
“Three or four.” You laughed.
He laughed and steered you towards a nearby bench under an awning and the two of you sat.
“Anyway,” you said and he turned towards you. “Thank you for hanging out with me and doing this dumb plan.” You laughed. “I’m sure there are better ways to spend most of an afternoon.”
“Other than stalking our friends and crouching behind random objects while people walking by stare at us?”
You laughed and nodded.
He shook his head. “No need to thank me. I’m glad they seem to have finally gotten together.”
“I’m more thanking you for hanging out with me while I made sure my plan worked,” you laughed. “It’d be boring if it were just me.”
He smiled. “You don’t have to thank me for that either, I like hanging out with you.”
You looked at him incredulously.
“You’re fun. I don’t think I’ve ever had a bad time hanging out with you.”
You nodded awkwardly and looked at the flowers floating on the surface of the water. You weren’t a huge Monet fan, but you saw the appeal of wanting to paint lotuses over and over again. There was something very serene and other-worldly about them and they way they floated like miniature islands of lush petals.
“Do you like it here?”
“In the garden?” You chuckled.
“In Korea.”
“Yeah, I mean… everywhere has it’s good and bad points, but I’ve been enjoying myself so far. And it’s not where I used to live so… that’s a pretty big improvement.”
“Is where you’re from really that bad?”
You exhaled a long breath. “Shit… yeah--”
“I know you don’t like talking about it.”
“No, I…” you looked at him. “We’re close, right?”
“I like to think we are.”
You nodded. “I don’t know how much I want to say… and you already know a little already… but… I went through a lot of bad shit and I guess I’m just looking for a place where no one knows my family or me and I can start over, you know?”
He nodded. “That’s why you’re working so hard?”
“At the root of it… yeah.”
He nodded again.
“That feels so stupid and ‘Hollywood sob story’ to say out loud. It sounds so fake,” you laughed awkwardly. “Sorry.”
He shook his head. “Don’t apologize. And I don’t think it is. It’s honest. You may not have told me some things about your life because they’re… hard things to talk about, but you’ve only ever been honest with me.”
You nodded. “I’ve also had a really great sense of humor with you.”
He dad-laughed loudly. “That too.”
You looked at each other for a few moments and a smile spread across his face.
“What?”
Your hand had been between the two of you on the bench and now he put his on yours. The stone of the bench under your hand was cool, but his palm was warm and comforting.
“I hope you stay after you graduate. I like having you around.”
You weren’t exactly sure what he was trying to say or even how you felt about it, but you felt your face heat up like it was trying to melt snow. Your heart skipped a beat and you stood.
“Hah-- oh, uh... “ You looked around. “It’s a little warm out here. Let’s get something to drink!” You pointed to the nearest refreshment cart and beelined in its direction like a suburban mom power-walking to the nearest Chobani display.
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#jaehyun#jeong jaehyun#jung jaehyun#nct 127#nct 127 smau#nct 127 fic#nct 127 au#nct smau#nct fic#nct au#college au#nct fake texts#nct fake chats#nct writing#jaehyun imagines#jaehyun scenarios#boyfriend jaehyun#college jaehyun#part 106
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Close to You
Edit: gif by giuliacommissions
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader/OFC
Prompt: I’ll keep you warm. Hold me closer.
Note: As we all know, Wanda Maximoff is the love of my life. A break for softness bc Between the Lines will be angsty and sad for a while 👀
Warnings: this is fucking soft™
Genre: Fluff
Count: 3453
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The world is beautiful.
The sunlight's warmth caresses your cheek, a light wind running its breeze through your hair. The only sound you can hear is the soft music playing and a light snore. The smell of pine wafts through the air as you drive at a steady pace. There's no rush; you are exactly where you want to be.
You hear a slight mumble to your right, and you turn over to see Wanda shifting slightly in her seat but doesn't wake. Her eyes are closed as she curls as much as she can in the passenger seat.
Your lip curves upward gently as you turn your attention back to the road.
You think of the girl beside you.
The world is beautiful.
And it was worth saving.
You constantly have to remind yourself of that fact. Otherwise, you don't think you could get up anymore.
Defeating Thanos had taken everything.
Natasha was gone. Tony was gone. Vision was gone. Steve was not gone, but his hip would probably break if he moved the wrong way, so fighting was out of the question for the old man.
So many people were still gone, and the world never felt so lonely.
You lean your head against your fist towards the window, feeling more of the wind against your face and hair. Taking a deep breath in, you let it out slowly through your nose.
Another noise beside you draws your attention back, and you find Wanda waking slowly. She's a little disgruntled, and the side of her hair has lifted and looped from her sleep.
You bite your tongue, holding in the words that want to come out.
Wanda is absolutely charming.
Still, Wanda turns her head to you a little too quickly, unintentionally catching your thoughts. Her cheeks dust a light rose color as she runs her fingers through her hair to straighten herself out.
"Hey," she rasps, still groggy. Grabbing the water bottle between the two of you, she takes a long gulp, finishing with a light sigh.
"Hey, sleepyhead," you smile. Wanda looks apologetic, but you just chuckle it off.
Wanda looks out the window, breath hitching just ever so slightly at the view. She likes that it feels like the world could go on and on forever in the car with you. The trees look lusher, the air seems crisper, and even the sky seems a little happier--if that makes sense.
"Where are we heading today?" Wanda asks patiently.
Every few days to a week is always new, and Wanda has been on the road with you for a while. She's learned that sometimes you have a place in mind and the other times? You're just driving until you decide you like where you are.
"To Lake Cushman," you tap the steering wheel with your index finger in a slow, steady rhythm. Wanda hums as she rolls down her window too to feel the breeze on her skin.
The rest of the drive is serene. The two of you enjoy the ride, listening to the same song over and over again.
When you get to the lake, you park the car, and Wanda goes to the trunk to help you carry things out. Wanda spends her time at the edge of the lake blowing up the inflatable boat you packed along manually.
You smile.
It wasn't always like this. In fact, Wanda wasn't even someone you were really close with. Of course, you were a team, and you wouldn't hesitate to have her back in a battle. But Wanda used to have her own world with Vision, and that world existed far from you.
It wasn't until the funeral that the two of you really noticed each other.
The funeral left you with a hollow feeling. You stood with Clint and Wanda for a minute more before you turned to leave, muttering about contacting you if something happened.
You were a traveler, always have been. Being an Avenger never changed that.
You hugged Morgan and Pepper before you went to your car to pack things up.
"Can I come with you?"
The sudden words made you turn around.
Wanda stood there, the rim of her eyes red from crying and also trying to hold in the tears. Her legs stood together straight, but she held her hands together in front of her tightly, revealing she was worried about you rejecting her.
You stared at her for a long moment.
"Of course."
The first few weeks to two months of traveling was strange. You're not sure what possessed Wanda to ask you if she could tag along. You're not sure what possessed you to say yes.
Wanda didn't talk much, still grieving just like you. That left the road trips with tons of silence. You weren't really sure of what to think about the company or her specifically. The only time Wanda had ever seemed happy was with Vision, and now he was gone.
But still, you think you could pinpoint a certain day that things seemed to change.
"No powers."
Wanda frowned. "Why not?"
"It's my rules when traveling. If you want to tag along, no powers unless we really need it." You stood firm with your stance.
The two of you were on a hike, particularly a long one with a lot of inclines. Wanda wanted to float her way up--generously offering to take you as well, but you said no.
"You think showing our powers would be dangerous?" Wanda scrunches her brows together with a slight frown on her lips.
"No," you blinked.
"Then, why?" Wanda asks exasperatedly.
You sigh, looking at the girl before you. "Wanda, there are times when efficiency is good. Like when our lives are at stake, or we're in a battle or a mission. Powers are wonderful when we need to save others."
You turn your head to look around the scenery. "But look around here," you tell her, your peripheral vision catching Wanda doing as she's told. "Right now, it's just you and me on a hike. The world isn't falling apart, no fight that needs to be fought, and we have absolutely no rush to be anywhere."
You turn your head back to Wanda's, catching the other girl's vibrant but confused eyes. "For people like us, we generally don't have the luxury to waste time. But if we get the chance the smell the flowers along the way, shouldn't we?"
Wanda stares at you. Blinking once, then twice.
And then a tentative, shy smile blooms.
"I used to hate the sky."
The comment is said so quietly you almost miss it, but it breaks you out of thought.
You move your head further to the side, catching Wanda, who is still staring at the sky. The two of you lie on your backs on opposite edges of the inflatable boat.
"Yeah?" You say as you move your head back to look at the sky along with Wanda. A warm leg moves and presses against yours, and you think about how wonderful it is to be able to share the same sky with Wanda. "Why?"
Wanda is silent, seemingly shocked because no one has ever asked why. So, she presses her lips together, trying to formulate her answer.
"I guess...I hated that the sky always seemed to pass by," Wanda sighs as she closes her eyes. "It was like time was passing by, and I didn't get the chance to notice it. I'd wake up when it was still dark, and by the time I was done the day, it was dark again."
At this point, Wanda can't tell if the warmth against her leg is hers or yours. All she knows is that she wants more of it.
"I guess you don't hate it anymore?" You chuckle a little, knowing you and Wanda spend most days relaxing in the sun.
Wanda opens her eyes, staring at the clear blue sky. The thought of how she's always learning something from you crosses her mind.
For example, if they have the luxury to enjoy the flowers along the journey, they should.
Or oranges can be very flammable.
But Wanda has come to realize things on her own too.
Like how life is made up of moments, and if she decides to be just a little brave, she can get the moments she wants.
"The sky is beautiful during the day," Wanda concedes, but she bites her lip as you hum. Taking a deep breath before swallowing. Her moment of bravery comes in the form of sliding her hand across the small boat, her fingers just meeting the start of yours. "But I no longer mind when it's dark when I wake up and dark when my day ends if I am with you."
You turn your hand over, palm facing up as you curl your fingers to just hook Wanda's fingers.
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You're the first to wake up from your slumber. You don't even remember falling asleep. After having enough of lounging in the boat, you took Wanda on another hike. At the very top, you packed food along with a blanket. You and Wanda sat under the shade, watching the horizon just beyond the valley with soft talks about hopes and dreams.
There's a sadness in Wanda that you don't think will ever go away, but you watch her with slow eyes as she talks about how it would be wonderful to exist in a tiny evergreen lush island.
Wanda has a lovely complexion with rosy cheeks as she looks at her hands, talking about an island that may only exist in her dreams. Her long lashes draw you in, and you wonder if it's terrible of you to notice such things.
You check your watch, noticing you only slept for half an hour, and look over to Wanda, who is curled against you. She sleeps peacefully as there's still plenty of daylight out. You look up, the sun passing through the leaves and branches above you.
Wanda sniffles slightly in her sleep. You turn over to find the girl shiver just once, shuffling closer to you to seek warmth.
As you take your jacket off to drape it over her, you wonder how and when you got pulled under Wanda's spell.
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The day comes to a quiet end after dinner and sitting by the campfire. The wonderful thing about your car is that you can push the back seat down and make a little bed to rest in.
The back is filled with pillows and blankets, and as you have your pillow propped up with your back against it, you can look out the back window of your car and into the skyline outside.
Perhaps it's because the two of you have slept most of the day, but sleep doesn't come as easily at night. You've got your Bluetooth speaker playing music in the background to relax you.
"I can't sleep," Wanda mumbles and sits up. You chuckle as Wanda props her pillow up, too, with a sigh.
She rests her head back, looking through the sunroof, and gazes at the stars.
"Do you want me to turn off the music?" You ask, but Wanda shakes her head, hair falling from her ear as she does.
"No, I probably napped too much today."
"Our sleep schedule is going to get fucked if we keep napping during the day," you snicker. "I guess we should find more things to do during the day than a hike. I was thinking maybe we could start going into town to do things."
"Like what?" Wanda asks.
You shrug. "Go to museums, actually eat at a restaurant, watch movies in a theatre. I don't know. Anything we want to, I guess."
Wanda gnaws on her lips because all those things sound like a date, and her fingers thrum against the floor in anticipation. She looks at you, blinking while you stare back, unsure.
"I'm cold," Wanda states, leaving you in confusion.
"Oh, uh..." You stutter, feeling your body tense. "Do you want more blankets? A sweater?"
Wanda stares at you with a tilt of her head. "No."
You press your lips together, opening the blanket just a little from where you are, and offer your arms to the other girl. Wanda may be using all the courage she has, and you realize now is not the time to be dense.
And it's worth it when Wanda can't help but smile as she scoots closer into your arms as you hold her, pulling the blanket up to her shoulder.
There's a certain tingle on your skin. A pit in your stomach, a warmth that spreads through your chest when Wanda's body presses against yours. The way she lies against across your chest while you cradle her in your arms. The smell of cinnamon and orange blossoms permeate the air you breathe, and even though you're in the middle of nowhere, you feel like you're home.
Wanda sighs in contentment. She likes the way you don't say anything else, and the only words that float through your mind are lyrics from the song playing in the background.
The hours pass like it's nothing, and soon, the sun rises steadily. The sky becomes a palette of colors you've seen a million times. You've seen every color of the sky. But seeing everything again with Wanda is different.
You hold Wanda tighter in your arms, becoming more daring as your fingers trail across her arm covered by her shirt. The scent of her hair flirts with you as your fingers trail up her arm until you trace her bare collarbone. The way Wanda breathes is noticeable, filling her chest as it rises and holds.
Your hand drops and Wanda tilts her head to look up at you.
The sky is no longer just pink and orange. It's cotton candy that trickles far and wide. It's the color that reflects off of Wanda's skin, hitting her eyes, and for a moment, you think you saw a glimpse into the future.
"Why me?"
The question holds nothing but soft wondering. Within the words, Wanda suspects you mean why did she ask to come with you that day?
Why now?
Wanda licks her bottom lip.
"Why did you say yes?" She counters back.
You don't say anything. You try to think of an answer, but nothing comes to your head. The truth is you don't know why. You just looked at her that day, and you couldn't have pictured yourself saying no.
Wanda shifts, looking back at the sunrise.
"Did Stephen ever tell you there's millions and millions of realities out there?"
You sigh with a grimace, "Yes, so many times."
Wanda chuckles raspily, and you feel the vibrations against your chest.
"It's strange, isn't it? To think so many versions of you exist out there, that every reality would be different from the one we exist in today," Wanda lifts her hand from out the blanket, holding up and letting the sunlight filter through her fingers.
You don't say anything and only listen to Wanda because this may be the most she's spoken since coming on this trip.
"I loved Vision," Wanda says finally. "I don't think I will ever find a love I had with him again."
You blink, unsure what to make of that statement. You understand it, you really do. You'll always be understanding of her grief, and yet, your tight arms around her begin to feel awkward.
Wanda chuckles again, dropping her hand back down on your arm to keep it in place. "And that's okay."
"I have lost so much," Wanda's breath shutters for a moment. "We both have."
You swallow slowly, trying to not like the pang of pain distract you.
"But as much as I have lost, I've always gained something. I've lost my parents, and that led to gaining powers. I've lost my home country, but I gained a family with the Avengers. I've lost Pietro, and I gained Vision. I've lost Vis," Wanda swallows, "And I gained you."
"So, when you ask why you," Wanda licks her lips, "It's because I'm no stranger to loss. Even though grief has come to my door again, I know something good when I see it. And I saw you. I saw this moment."
"This moment?" You scrunch your brows together. It's such an odd moment to see, and yet so much of Wanda's behavior over the last six months made more sense.
Wanda sits up, turning to face you as the blanket draped over her slides down her back. Hands pressed against the ground on either side of your legs, she leans in close. You catch specks of the sky in her eyes, but this one isn't just the cotton candy that's just outside.
You catch specks of all the beautiful lush green trees you've seen. The sea and the sand the waves push up against. You see the white sun and shy hands that inch closer until they meet.
A hand touches your jaw, shyly sliding further until Wanda holds your cheek.
"Are you cold?" She murmurs, feeling the lack of warmth from sitting upright the entire night.
"Yeah," You mumble as Wanda leans closer and closer until you can feel her breath on your lips.
"I'll keep you warm," Wanda whispers, and you feel the brush of her lips. "Hold me closer."
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"You know, I wish there was a way– that I could let her know. That we won." Clint looks over at Wanda. "We did it."
"She knows--they both do." The rim of Wanda's eyes is red as she looks out onto the lake. Clint gives her a side hug that she returns for a long minute.
"You know where to reach me if you need me," you mutter, turning to leave the two alone.
Wanda looks at your retreating form. You didn't shed a single tear at the funeral, but she did not blame you. She had recognized that kind of grief on herself once upon a time, and she knows it's the kind that hurts more than any crying could.
Clint eventually bids his farewell and takes off, leaving her alone to gaze out onto the lake.
More tears well up, and Wanda isn't sure if she should let them fall or will them to magically go back into her eyes. It seems she decided too slow, and the tears well over down her cheeks as someone comes to stand next to her.
He takes a deep breath, holding his hands behind his back.
"I'm sorry for your loss," he politely passes his condolences.
"Me too," Wanda says without breaking her view.
It's silent for another minute.
"You know," Stephen squints as if that will let him see further. "I went through 14 million realities to see which one where we would win and only came out with one."
"If this is supposed to make me better, it's not--"
"Hear me out," Stephen cuts Wanda off. "In every reality that we manage to bring everyone back, including the one where we win, there was only one thing consistent."
Wanda laughs humorlessly. "And what's that?"
"You are grieving, yes, but," Stephen turns to face Wanda, causing her to turn to him as well. "You gain something so, so very beautiful."
Wanda's brows furrows, confused at what Stephen is trying to hint at. It isn't until he turns his attention to something that she turns too, stunned.
It's you, slowly packing your car.
"Strange, isn't it?" Stephen muses like he's talking to himself. "14 million realities, and every single one you return in, you gain her."
Wanda stares at you, unsure what to make of what Stephen is telling her.
"Why her?" She mumbles.
Stephen grins.
"I think you're a smart girl, Wanda," he tells her without answering her question. "I think if you let yourself, you'll see something good. You'll see her, even if you are grieving."
Stephen places his hand on her shoulder, giving her an encouraging squeeze before he walks away.
Wanda stands there, still looking at you while she tilts her head just to the side slightly.
And she's not sure what happens, but she sees something in her head.
A cotton candy sky, the light barely visible. She sees pillows and blankets in the back of a car. She hears the same song playing over and over in the background.
Wanda sees you.
She sees you in a light she's never had before, in a way she didn't think was ever possible.
"I'm cold," you whine, and Wanda sees herself smiling as she leans closer.
"I'll keep you warm," she sees herself bold and wanting. "Hold me closer."
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff imagine#scarlet witch x reader#scarlet witch imagine#wanda x reader#avengers imagine#mm: my fics#genre: fluff
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I SCREAM, YOU SCREAM (Starring John Constantine's Impeccable Parenting skills)
*This is a one-shot special for 3k views; it can be read regardless of where you are in the story*
— TWO YEARS AGO —
— LONDON —
“This is so stupid.”
“Oi! I’m not enjoying myself, either. I could be doing a lot more interesting things on a Saturday afternoon.”
“Yeah, I’m sure liver failure is a big commitment.”
“Okay,” Zatanna scooted forward, leaning between Raven and Constantine from the back seat. Raven’s knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel. When she glanced in the rearview mirror, she saw Etrigan calmly lick his thumb and turn the page on his copy of People Magazine.
“You’re a bloody seventeen year-old. How do you not know how to drive?” Constantine complained, turning in shotgun to give Raven a judgemental look.
She gritted her teeth. She did not like being in such close confines with him. His comments were getting on her nerves. And he smelled. The sharp aroma of liquor mixed with stale vomit. “I’ve been busy.”
“Like you’re one to judge, John.” Zatanna quipped, shifting to keep her uncomfortable position. “You’re terrible behind the wheel. How did you even get a license?”
“When most sods my age were reenacting the end of Thelma and Louise, I was mastering the dark arts.”
“Mastering is generous. Oh, Katy Perry’s new album is venerous,” Etrigan flipped to another page.
“Alright—we’re off topic, I don't want to be parked here all day. Set the knob to drive and let’s shove off.” Constantine grumbled.
Raven did as she was told and pulled on the “knob.” When it was level with the drive setting, the car started to inch forward in the empty parking lot.
“You’re doing great, sweetie. Let’s go over some basic driving rules first—” Zatanna offered.
Constantine dismissed her with a hand. “Blah blah blah, just ignore her. Here’s what you need to know: green means go. Yellow means go faster. Red means go when the coppers aren't looking.”
“Yeah, most of what you said is illegal,” Raven rolled her eyes. In the process, her gaze was drawn to the dashboard, “Can we turn the music on?”
“Yes.”
“No!”
Zatanna and Constantine exchanged a glare.
“She needs to focus. She’s not used to this,” Zatanna remarked.
“Any situation is improved with Led Zeppelin, Zee,” Constantine gestured at the slowly-inching car, “and this one is in dire need of some improvement. Roth, go to the stop sign. It’s time to release you into the population—and there’s a gas pedal there for a reason. Step on it.”
Raven tapped the other pedal with her foot. The car lurched forward and the stop sign blurred past as they met oncoming traffic.
“WOAH—!” Zatanna leaned over and straightened the wheel. Constantine’s face was squished up against the window. Etrigan barely glanced up from his magazine.
“I never gave Chaz enough credit for raising a daughter,” Constantine yanked himself off the glass surface, rubbing his face. “Bloody hell.”
Raven hardly caught his words. She was too busy trying to figure out the maze of roads before her. Everything was backwards: Londoners drove on the left, opposing every American street she’d been exposed to for the past few years. She hunched down, squinting, trying to stay in between the lines. Raven’s foot cried out in protest of being set at such an odd angle for a long period of time.
“You’re not even on the road—you’re in the other lane, you have to level yourself!” Constantine gripped the dashboard in front of him.
“I’m trying—stop yelling at me!” Raven snapped at him.
“Should’ve let Boston join us. He’s dead; he can't die in a car accident. He’s immune,” Constantine covered his eyes.
Something red filled the rearview mirror. “Here’s Boston—oh, fuck.”
“Shit—shit!” The car swerved. Raven winced as horns blared around her. She sank down lower in her seat.
“Boston!” Zee swatted the air that depicted the ex-trapeze artist’s spectral form. “Bad timing! We’re busy!”
“What? Etrigan texted and said you were getting ice cream.” Boston Brand settled into the empty seat behind Constantine, floating in the unoccupied space.
“You can't even eat it.” Zatanna pointed out.
“Don't rub it in! I don’t go for the food: I love scaring the kids that work at Dairy Queen by turning the machines on and off.”
Raven shook her head, keeping her eyes on the road. “I should’ve never returned to society. I should’ve stayed in Themyscira—no, I should’ve sailed to an empty island and lived out the rest of my life with a coconut named Wilson.”
“Don't steal my plan B,” Warned Constantine.
Boston’s form went through Constantine’s chair, his face hovering before the infamous Hellblazer. “You don’t look so good, Johnny. ‘Ey, kiddo, maybe you should stop by a bathroom.”
“Don’t bother. I went on that last turn.”
“Ew.” Boston shuddered and melted into the backseat. Raven chewed on her bottom lip as a traffic light appeared ahead.
“We’re turning right,” Zee instructed her.
“If you run over pedestrians, you get bonus points!”
“Boston, I will banish you to hell, so help me...”
Raven turned on the blinker and the car started to slow. She heard someone uncap a marker and scribble across parchment.
Raven’s eyes slid towards Constantine’s seat. “Are you drawing a pentagram right now?”
“It’s a sign. ‘Says impaired driver. Boston, take this and tape it to the back of the car. Give the wankers some warning.”
“Uh, this says insane driver, not impaired—”
“Shh! Just do it!”
The car steadily approached the crosswalk. Raven looked up and down the street for anyone walking, hopefully not future victims.
“Is that...Nanaue?”
The massive shark was hurrying across the road with his laptop; he was attending MIT online in order to spend more time with John. Apparently, the half-man, half-shark hybrid was an excellent tech wiz.
“Do not hit my boyfriend,” Constantine ordered.
“I'm not—although, for the record, I do not enjoy listening to you hook up with a shark every night.” Raven involuntarily shuddered, shoving away flashbacks of certain thuds late at night that reverberated throughout the House of Mystery.
“Agreed,” Boston nodded along with her. “Thank god for the vinyl records—that Marina lady’s a saint. What is she, Welsh?”
“And Greek.”
“Wow. A literal Greek goddess. Can we listen to her right now?”
“NO!”
The stop light turned yellow.
“Speed up, Raven. This light takes forever,” Zatanna replied.
“Slow down,” Constantine countered. “Do not hit Nanaue. That tall pile of earth-defying genetics is my one source of happiness.”
“High talk from the guy who just said ‘yellow’ means speed up,” Zatanna rolled her eyes in the rearview mirror. “Raven, step on it. We have places to be.”
“Why the rush, Zee? Is there a specific reason you don't want to see him—? You will stop at that crosswalk, young lady!”
“John, don't be an ass. This has nothing to do with us, and everything to do with me wanting ice cream before Boston terrifies the villagers!”
Raven had enough. She shouted over the chaos, “WILL BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP? CALM DOWN RIGHT NOW OR I WILL TURN THIS CAR AROUND AND NO ONE’S GETTING ICE CREAM!”
Raven turned her attention back to the road. A tower of silver with a glimmering sheen rose before her. In a hoodie with khakis.
Raven slammed on the breaks. Constantine face-planted against the windshield. Zatanna yelped as her seatbelt tugged her back against the tan leather seats. Boston went flying forward, floating past the outside of the car.
When the car fully stopped, Raven shut her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. She opened them, and a massive shark (with all limbs attached) waved at them from the front of the car.
Constantine pulled his face away from the glass (again) and turned to her, “No casualties. A broken nose. An intact boyfriend. Not bad, Roth.”
Boston floated back to the car, scowling, “Uh, I’d like to revisit the ‘no casualties’ part!”
Etrigan finally looked up from his copy of People Magazine, “Are we there yet? Why is Constantine covered in sweat?”
“Because parenting bloody sucks, that's why!”
#starring tired parent john constantine#other tired parent zatanna#a fed up goth child#a half shark boyfriend#a sadistic ghost#john constantine#raven roth#raven#rachel roth#zatanna#zatana#king shark#nanaue#boston brand#constantine#dc#justice league#justice league dark#john constantine x king shark#dc comics#love + fear#etrigan the demon#humor#lol#damian x raven
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DannyMay Day 5: Doorway
"Are you guys seeing this?" Danny's voice sparked through the background distortion of their Fenton Phones.
"What is it?" Sam craned her head in his direction, but her driver's ed training refused to let her release the steering wheel of the Specter Speeder. Across the seat from her, Tucker shifted to lean against the window.
"Not from here dude," he replied. "What's up with those doors?"
"They've got a plaque between them. Seriously, you've gotta see this. I think the island's big enough to land on."
Tucker looked back at Sam, and they exchanged a shrug.
"You heard the man. Adventure calls!"
Sam circled around to approach the tiny landing ground, chewing her bottom lip as she delicately maneuvered to set them down on the slab of rock which was barely larger than the Speeder itself. When she felt the landing gear dig its retractable claws into the stone, sending vibrations through the carriage, she un-tensed and remembered to breathe, smiling to herself. She'd gotten good at this; there was no way she wasn't passing her driver's test come April.
She popped her door open, Tucker scrambling out behind her, and they shuffled sideways along the available ledge to where Danny was hovering in front of the two doors mounted at the edge of the bare island. A plaque floated between them, carved in dark wood.
"Woah." Sam traced a finger over the florid raised border. There was an embossed image of a woman in a long dress and a snarling tiger, with text below.
"What?" Tucker squeezed in behind her. She scooted a little further down to make room for him, Danny floating up above the two of them.
"Can you believe it?" Danny asked, looking down on them with a lopsided grin, wide enough to border on manic.
"The Lady or the Tiger," Sam read. "In instances of unknown guilt, the accused shall select one door of the twain to receive justice."
"Wait, like that short story we just had to read?" Tucker pulled out his PDA and tapped something in. "Stockton, 1882."
"Do you think I could get extra credit if I took a picture of it?" Danny's grin stretched a little farther and became a little toothier. Ghost mouths had a tendency to do such things.
"So he based his short story on a place in the Ghost Zone?" Tucker mused.
"Or the story became so popular that it manifested out of the ether," Sam said. "I mean, it was influential enough that it's become a figure of speech."
Danny tipped over so that he was floating upside-down. "So would you say that ‘The Lady or the Tiger’ could be a chicken or egg scenario?"
Tucker groaned. "God, Danny."
"No, no," Sam said, "this is an improvement. His puns are getting cleverer over time."
"There's also a third option," Danny added. "Stockton became a ghost and his lair pays homage to his most memorable achievement." Sam considered it and nodded.
Tucker snapped a photo and saved it. "Well, if you're getting extra credit, so are we. I had to rewrite my last paper after Cujo drooled on my first draft."
"Sorry," Danny said, righting himself. Tucker waved him off.
"Not your fault. But blaming you makes me feel better." Sam snorted and knocked shoulders with him. Danny stole his beret and shoved it on his own head.
"So… you wanna open the doors and see what's behind them?" Danny asked, sinking down between them.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Sam said. "I prefer to avoid situations where I might get eaten."
"Tuck?" Danny flopped his head on Tucker's shoulder. Tucker took the opportunity to grab his hat back. "There might be a pretty lady."
"I thought we weren't expanding this trio without a full consensus."
Danny reeled back in fake shock. Sam slung an arm around Danny’s shoulders. "He's matured so much!" she joked.
"Hey," Tucker put a hand over his heart. "I'm a family man."
"Fine, we'll leave the doors unopened. We'll never know the answer to the mystery that has haunted the past two centuries. If you guys are cool with that."
"And how are we supposed to finish our mission before school on Monday if you get mauled by a tiger?" Sam gestured Tucker back towards the Speeder door, following in his wake.
"I can put a beacon on the island if you want to come back," Tucker suggested. "We could try to trick Walker into opening one."
"Ooooo, yes please." Danny floated up over the Speeder pod as Tucker climbed in and dug something out of his backpack. He handed it out to Sam, who kneeled at the edge of the island and pressed the device into a crag on the underside. She brushed off her hands as she stood up.
"Alright, no more distractions. We've got a book to return."
#dannymay2021#phanniemay2021#Danny Phantom#Sam Manson#Tucker Foley#Everlasting Trio#QPPs are a hill I will die on#my writing#drabble
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braced myself for the goodbye
Hi friends! This is an 8x11 speculation fic as requested. All the talk of that amazing promo and the concerns of a possible Upstead breakup took me down a seriously deep rabbit hole of feelings and angsty goodness that became this one shot. Title is lyrics from the song “Mine” by Taylor Swift. Enjoy lovelies!
TW // mentions of domestic violence
Also on AO3 and FFNet!
Braced myself for the goodbye,
'Cause that's all I've ever known
Then you took me by surprise
You said, "I'll never leave you alone"
Twelve hours ago Hailey’s morning had started out so wonderfully. She had been half asleep, anticipating the sounding of her alarm to wake her for the day, but instead she was woken up with Jay’s lips ghosting over her skin. It was dreamlike, a glimpse of what heaven could be. She had smiled uncontrollably, wiggled against him, and when she rolled in his arms to face him she was greeted with a grin and his sleepy voice saying good morning.
“A very good morning indeed. Not a bad way to get woken up. Who’d have thought that elite Detective Jay Halstead would be such a sap? And a cuddler too.”
He had rolled his eyes at her, but there was a playful smirk on his face and he just pulled her closer against him. His arms wound under and around her and his hands pressed against her back. The feel of his fingers had sent goosebumps shooting out all across her skin.
“I think you love it,” he told her as he casted quick glances between her lips and her eyes.
“I do love it,” she said while moving her hand up his chest and around his neck to the back of his head.
He hummed out a response and leaned his head down closer so that little space was left between them.
“I love you,” he confessed.
He hadn’t given her a chance to respond and instead pressed his lips against hers for several moments, swallowing the moan that escaped her and not waiting or expecting her to say the words back.
The moment he said them and his lips were on hers, Hailey felt like she was floating. She knew she loved him, she had for a while, and a part of her knew he loved her too, but hearing the words as they fell from his lips was something she didn’t think she’d ever forget. It put an ache in her chest that was so good she wished she could bottle it up and keep it for forever.
The moment was cut short when they’d been interrupted yet again by a ringing phone and before she could say the words back that she so desperately wanted to say to him, they had to get dressed and head into the district. What Hailey hadn’t anticipated was the case they’re pulled into wrecking her beyond comprehension.
What was supposed to be a simple wellness check quickly turned into a search for a missing family and an ugly domestic violence case that Intelligence took the lead on. And in the process of connecting the dots and weeding through the lies of an abuser, Hailey was forced to remember her past and the monster her own father had been while she was growing up. The monster he could still be.
By the time the case is over and the last of the files have been closed, Hailey is completely deteriorated from the workday. She just wants to crawl into bed and try to forget, but when she enters her apartment she quickly spots a hoodie hanging over the back of her couch that doesn’t belong to her. Suddenly her heart aches again as she thinks about her partner.
Jay had been an anchor for her throughout the day just as he’d always been since they became partners. He kept her grounded without being overbearing, letting her know he was there for her and by her side. But as the day went on Hailey reflects on the abuse she doesn’t think she’ll ever really fully move on from.
Weekends that were supposed to be spent having fun with her brothers and being normal kids were instead spent running to the nearest sibling’s bedroom and locking the door when her father had drunk one too many beers.
His voice was always so loud when he was yelling that Hailey could swear the whole house would shake. He’d start downstairs, shouting at her mother, knocking his fists into her first, and when she’d sink to the floor or pass out he’d go in search of Hailey or one of her brothers.
There are moments she can remember so vividly hiding in so many places to avoid her father’s hands or whatever belt or cord he had been able to find. The back of a closet, the bathtub, under the dining room table, the shed out back when it wasn’t too cold. She’d spent so much of her childhood hiding and fearing her father, watching the relationship between him and her mother zig zag and spiral, that most days Hailey’s not sure how she turned out to be even remotely sane or normal by any means. She remembers how he’d always apologize to them all, tell them he loved them. Like loving someone and beating the crap out of them were synonymous and one in the same.
She tries so hard to not compare her life with her father to her relationship with Jay, but she can’t help it. She knows deep down that her partner would never think of hurting her the way her father has, but after the day she’s had and the too much time she’s had to think, she’s also unsure if she can love him back the way he deserves. She wonders if maybe it was a sign from the universe when they were interrupted earlier in the morning before she could say the words back to him that he so easily could say to her.
Maybe she wasn’t supposed to say them.
Maybe she wasn’t supposed to love him.
There’s a knock that breaks Hailey out of her thoughts and she makes her way to the door. She glances through the peephole and sighs.
Of course it’s him. Who else would it be?
She considers not opening it, but then thinks of what she has to do and the conversation that needs to be had so she opens the door and forces out a smile as she looks up at her partner.
“Hey,” Hailey nearly whispers.
“Hi,” he says back with a half-smile.
She lets him enter the apartment and closes the door behind him. She makes her way towards the kitchen, leans back against the island, and then nods to the couch.
“You left your hoodie here,” she tells him.
He glances to the couch and looks back at her, gives a short nod. “I didn’t come here for my hoodie. I wanted to see you, make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m...dealing,” she says slowly, as if trying to find the right words to say.
He waits for her to start and steer the conversation, but when she doesn’t he takes a small step towards her.
“Do you want me to leave?” He asks even though it’s the last thing he wants to do.
She shakes her head, but it doesn’t give him the relief it should. Not when she’s looking at him the way she is, as if she’s about to give him the worst news of his life.
“We should talk. I’m sure you have questions,” she says as she crosses her arms over her chest.
“Maybe, but you know you don’t need to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with, Hailey. I’m not gonna push you,” he tells her.
She does know, but she also knows she has to do this while she still has some nerve left.
“I need to tell you this. I need you to understand.”
He nods and gestures to the couch. “You wanna sit?”
She shakes her head and he shuffles his weight to his other foot as he stuffs his hands into his coat pockets. He can tell she needs a moment. He’s always been able to read her, give her exactly what she needs without saying a word, so he waits until she takes a deep breath and then she speaks.
“I don’t think I ever really learned relationships,” she starts, but her eyes don’t meet his as if she’s somewhere else entirely and not standing there in the same room with him.
“My parents didn’t exactly give me and my brothers the greatest example of what one should look like. My dad - he used us all like his own personal punching bags. And my mom, she took it. She just took it every single time and I never really understood it when I was little. Five year old me couldn’t understand why daddy was hurting mommy. It got to a point where it was just normal, expected. And as I got older, I still didn’t ever fully understand it. I think maybe it just happened so much that it was burned into my mom’s brain that, that’s what love is. That it’s okay if someone hurts you as long as they say they love you and they’re sorry after.
“I’ve had boyfriends and I’ve loved them, or tried to anyway, but relationships haven’t ever been easy for me. It’s like a what-if game constantly playing in my head, like a voice in the back of my mind that I can’t ever silence completely. And it gets loud. It gets so loud sometimes. The second-guessing and the wondering if there’s an ulterior motive for things someone says or does. It’s something I’ve never been able to turn off. It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to turn off. Like it’s burned into my brain too. There are parts of me that are just unfixable. Parts of me that I don’t think will ever fully heal.”
There’s a look on her face that Jay knows all too well and he braces himself for what’s about to come. He watches Hailey lean back against the island and she tightens her arms across her chest almost defensively. He doesn’t say a word though, just gives her a nod telling her to continue and waits for it.
“Being your partner is easy for me, Jay. Being your friend is easy. And I know we didn’t ever label whatever it is that we’ve been doing, but I don’t really know how to be a girlfriend. Especially a girlfriend who works with their boyfriend. I’ve tried it before and I don’t know how to be that person. Maybe it’s because of my parents. Maybe I just don’t really know how to love either and that’s not fair to you. Even with Garrett. I know I loved him, but I just – I didn’t know how to. And in the end he paid the ultimate price for loving me.”
Hailey pauses, takes a breath, and then continues. “I don’t wanna hurt you, Jay. I don’t want you to get hurt. You’ve been so good to me and I like being with you, but I – I don’t...”
She looks away from him as she blows out another breath, unable to finish her sentence, but he does it for her.
“You want it to be over,” he says.
The dejected tone of his voice sends a pang through her chest and she nods her head slowly as she meets his eyes again. There’s a sadness in them she doesn’t think she’s ever seen before.
“I think that might be best for both of us. I shouldn’t have – I thought I could do it. That night in the bar when I told you about the job offer and you kissed me? I wanted that for so long. I wanted you. But I’m beginning to realize that just because you want something it doesn’t mean you should have it. And I would never forgive myself if I hurt you down the road by saying or doing something stupid in the heat of the moment. Not after everything you’ve already been through. You don’t deserve that and you shouldn’t have to live with that possibility or my issues. You shouldn’t want that. So, yeah. I want it to be over for both of our sakes.”
She’s not sure what he’s thinking and it’s the first time in a long time that she can’t read him, but it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want to do this, wishes it could be different. That she could be different. But it’s not and she’s not, and she’s afraid that if it doesn’t happen now then both of them will just hurt each other later. So she does the hard part for the both of them, ripping it off clean like a Band-Aid, and ignoring the sting it leaves.
She’s not sure how much time passes as she watches him and waits for him to speak. She can tell he’s thinking too hard, digesting what she’s told him, and the longer he’s silent the more she thinks that her decision to end it all right here is the right call, but then he surprises her when he looks up at her with glistening eyes full of love and compassion and understanding. Everything that he is. She’s not sure she deserves it.
Jay shakes his head slowly as he looks at her from a few feet away. He’s kept his distance, not wanting to make her feel cornered or not in control of the conversation and situation, but then he takes a few steps toward. His eyes burn into hers and she feels her heart pounding relentlessly inside her chest.
“You said you don’t know how to love, but I don’t think that’s true. Hailey, if it weren’t for you being my partner, for your friendship, your love for me - platonic or otherwise, I wouldn’t be here right now. I probably wouldn’t be alive right now.”
His voice is low, almost guttural, as if he’s lost his voice and it’s too painful to speak, but he keeps his eyes on her and goes on still.
“Hailey, you’re the person who loved me enough to make me realize I needed therapy. You’re the one who loved me even after knowing about my own past and the demons I have. My PTSD, what happened with Erin, my dad. You showed me every time you’ve stuck by my side and trusted my decisions even when others didn’t. You showed me when you chose to stay here instead of taking that job in New York. No one has ever chosen me over anything like that before. Not even my own brother. You have showed me countless times you love me without ever saying the words. But that word means something different to you because of your family and I get it. I don’t need to hear you say you love me to know that you do.”
He takes slow, hesitant steps towards her until he’s standing in front of her within arm’s reach to still give her, her space. He looks at her with tears still in his eyes, trying to keep them from falling, as he watches her own roll down her cheeks now.
“I’m not going anywhere Hailey. I know things haven’t been easy for you, they haven’t been fair or made sense. Life hasn’t been kind to you, but that doesn’t make me care about you or love you any less than I do, and it doesn’t make you unworthy of receiving that love either. The things you do for the people in your life, complete strangers even. You have the biggest and most beautiful heart of anyone I’ve ever known.
“You deserve this Hailey. We both do. I know you’re scared, I am too, but not because of your past. I’m scared of losing you. We don’t need to define anything or put a label on it if that’s what you wanna do. Girlfriend might be a bit of a weak term for you anyway when you’re so much more than that. We can take it one day at a time, take things as they come, but I want this. I want you. I wanna be with you.”
“Jay, I - “
“If you really want it to be over between us then I’ll respect your decision and I’ll walk out the door and we’ll never talk about it again. All I’m asking for is a chance to show you how it’s supposed to be, that love can be good. That it is good. That it doesn’t come with conditions or ulterior motives. That you deserve every good thing in this world. And I’ll be here to remind you when you think you don’t.”
He can see the wheels turning in her head, but her eyes are everywhere except on him now and he can’t quite read the look on her face, and it scares him.
There’s a fleeting moment where he knows he won’t come back from this, that she was it for him, but he won’t push her. He won’t do that to her. And when she finally meets his eyes again, but doesn’t say a word, he ignores the crushing of his chest and the sinking of his stomach, and takes a step forward to close the distance between them.
He knows what this is now.
Why she mentioned his forgotten hoodie. Why she didn’t wanna sit. Why she’s kept her distance.
She wasn’t intending for him to stay.
He lifts an arm slowly, not wanting to scare her, and rests the palm of his hand against the side of her face. He brushes his thumb over her cheek like he has a dozen times before now, realizing a second later that this might be the last and it sends an ache through him again. He leans forward and presses his lips to her forehead, lingering a few beats longer than he should, but if it’s the last time he kisses her he’s going to savor it. He removes his lips and drops his hand a moment later, and steps away from her.
When she still doesn’t speak all he can do is give a slow nod before he turns for the door. He doesn’t make it three steps before she calls out to him, her voice shaking and his name cracking in half as it falls from her lips. He stops mid-stride and she notices the slight hesitation from him before he turns around to face her, and then she sees that his tears have fallen. Tears for her. For them.
She knows what she is about to do is the hardest thing she’ll ever do and it’s terrifying, but not as terrifying as it would be if she let him walk out her door for good.
“I want that with you. The good kind of love. I want it and it scares the hell out of me,” she breathes out through hiccups and fresh tears.
It’s all he needs and then he’s walking towards her. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close and tight against him with one arm around her back and his other hand holding her head to his chest.
Her whole body shakes and she can’t stop crying now as she leans into him. And then she whispers, “I do love you and I want you to stay.”
He squeezes his arms around her in their embrace and presses his lips to the side of her head.
“I’ll stay,” he tells her, knowing it’s the only thing she needs to hear from him.
Her eyes close at the sound of his words and her entire body goes limp in his arms. It’s the first moment since the mess of their day on the job that she finally feels herself fully relax and be at ease. She grips his shoulder with a trembling hand, the rest of her body still shaking, but he continues to hold her up and hold her against him like the anchor he’s always been for her.
She knows he means staying more than just tonight and there’s a moment, maybe for the first time in her life, where the future doesn’t worry her or scare her. Not when it includes him, them.
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